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#captain america: winter solder
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monster-cock69 · 6 months
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All human au where Steve and Bucky are in an open relationship and Peter knew but didn’t realize they were each other’s husbands until he’s leaving the apartment after hooking up with one and sees the other
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nanaonmars · 6 months
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today i am thinking of sambucky and dying a little inside at the fact that they’ll probably never be canon
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celaenaeiln · 10 months
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The Batman/Captain America Crossover is just a treasure trove of goodness
First you have cute little Dick glaring at the Nazi with his arms crossed: >:(
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Bucky bragging about having the better mentor 😂
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Lmao imagine walking into the bat cave and finding a 100ft tall playing card of Joker - BATMAN WHY?
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Bucky calling Dick a shrimp! Ngl I was expecting Dick to beef right back. Bucky reminds me of Roy sm in this comic.
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Even the Joker joining into fight the Nazi villain! Best villain vs villain battle!! He’s literally like “I’m crazy and evil but not that crazy and evil”
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The crossover teamups!
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Bruce bragging to Bucky about being cooler. He totally didn’t forget that comment.
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THIS ONE! THE ICONIC “MY LEGS ARE TOO LONG FOR THIS CHAIR IM GONNA SLOUCH” POSE. Batman invented this before it ever came into the 21st century.
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And finally, it all begins again!
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Dick!Bats and Bruce Wayne Jr!Robin break Cap out of the ice and then the marvel movies begin. Avengers Assemble!
I nearly forgot - Dick and Bucky get stranded in the middle of nowhere farm and have to radio in to get Batman and Cap to pick them up. It was very “when are you coming?” And “oh shit! I knew we forgot something!!”
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sarahowritesostucky · 27 days
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Fanvid Friday
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halfofmysoulsblog · 1 year
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Caged In - The Winter Soldier/Reader
Summary: Falling in love with him wasn’t supposed to happen, but you connected with some distant part of him with your compassion. After escaping with The Winter Soldier from the terrorist organization known as HYDRA to Bucharest Romania, you form an unlikely friendship and relationship with the assassin.  
OR as I like to think about it: An AU where The Winter Soldier never fully regained his memories. 
TRIGGER WARNINGS 
Torture  
Physical Assault  
*Bucky isn’t the nicest at first, but he does not inflict any of the triggers onto the reader* 
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Your head was pounding, and your vision was blurry as you struggled to open your eyes. A blurred image of a man in white is standing before you, and a malicious smile is slowly forming the more your body started to shake off the dizzy feeling. A man with glasses is standing over you, and you groan softly. Your lifting wrists are restrained, and it causes your heart to race, a persistent beeping sounding at the same time. A cold, white, gloved hand is brushing across your forehead, and this stranger is leaning over you. “Shhh, shhh, relax,” He coos, his voice mimicking what is supposed to be a soothing tone, but it makes you nervous.  
“Where am I?” You ask, turning your head away from his hand, looking to your right, your attention being taken as there’s a man sitting in a chair, and you can’t see his face, but by the way he’s clenching the handles of the chair, you assume that he did not like where he was. Your eyes are widening fright as a few men are walking from the shadows, dressed in similar clothing as the man next to you, and one of them is shoving something in the man’s mouth. “What are they doing?” You ask, doing your best to sit up. The restraints on your wrists don’t allow for much movement, and you struggle to see, horror growing in your gut as you see one of them walk up to this large piece of equipment with a bunch of knobs. 
“You don’t want to see that sweetheart,” He’s gripping your chin, turning your face back to meet his malicious gaze. The lights within this large place are flickering, and you’re wrenching your head back as the man is screaming in agony. Your eyes widen even more, sickness rolling in your stomach as one of them men loudly reads from a book of some sort. “STOP! STOP!” You’ve never seen anyone get tortured before, and your natural response is to do whatever you can to stop them even if that meant screaming over the loud noise. They didn’t stop. Actually, they pretended you weren’t even there, and the doctor next to you is roughly grabbing your face and pushing your head back down on the slab you found yourself.  
You struggle against his grip, but it is futile as he’s placing a strap over your forehead, and you try kicking your feet, but every part of your body is bound. Your fingernails dig into the palm of your hands, drawing blood, and something is sticking you. Whatever it was…it was good. It worked through your system faster than you could blink.  
One blink was all it took, and everything faded…
 
“Happy Birthday to you!” The choruses of Happy Birthday made you laugh lightly, and you blow out the cupcake, only for it to be lightly shoved upwards, your nose dipping into the chocolate icing. “Hey! Watch the scrubs,” You complain, chuckling lightly, grabbing the napkin being handed to you. You wipe your nose, smiling at your coworkers.  
“Thanks guys really. Best birthday ever,” You grin, taking a lick of the icing. “So, how does it feel to be 26? Officially half the age of us fuckers in here,” You laugh softly, walking around the cafeteria table, smiling at Dublin. The others roll their eyes, and you shrug. “Feels…great. Besides, you’re not old. Obsolete maybe,” Your shoulder is being nudged as the others disperse, glancing at their beeping pagers. You walk alongside Dublin out of the cafeteria, and he smiles down at you. “Whatever. When are you gonna make an honest man out of my grandson?” You shake your head, pulling up your hair, maneuvering yourself to the side as a gurney was being wheeled past.  
“When your grandson grows up. How about that? He’s a knucklehead Dubs, and I don’t have time to chase after him. Is he still with that crazy girl that stabbed him in the hand with a fork last week?” Dublin looks away, nodding shamelessly. “Well, until he lets the crazies go, I’m by my lonesome. How’s Linda and your new great grandbaby? I still haven’t been by to see her. I heard she’s a cutie,” Dublin is smiling, gushing about his new granddaughter, and you follow along with a smile.  
Nearing the lobby, you glance at Dublin as he pauses, bringing you in for a hug. “See you over the weekend, enjoy the day you have off you hear? Don’t let this place drive you crazy. Stay safe. Lin says give her a call yeah?” You squeeze him, laughing as he grumbles about his brittle bones. “Whatever. See you,” 
That’s all you remember. You don’t remember getting home. You don’t remember if you even got into your car to go home. You remembered saying goodbye, and then you found yourself here. In this unfamiliar place where they torture people. Your hands are no longer restrained, and you aren’t on a slab of metal either, instead on a hard, cold, concrete floor. Your head hurts, and your body throbs as you feel like you’ve been poked and prodded at.  
Upon opening your eyes, things are blurry. There are muffled voices and machinery whirring about, and upon sitting up, you are relieved to see that you were still in your scrubs, only your tennis shoes missing. Once your vision clears, you realize that you are in a small cage, and you’re not alone. To your right is a man, his face hidden behind a mask, the metal arm drawing your attention immediately. His hair was wet, as if he’d been sprayed with water, his dark eyes staring at you. Your head tilts as you remember, just faintly, the same arm gripping onto the arm rest of the chair he sat in, as he screamed for his life. “You. You’re alive,” You didn’t think a person could withstand being electrocuted to the extent he had been, and you’re too concerned with the fact of his safety that you don’t truly realize the danger that you are in.  
He just stares at you before he moves so quickly that you couldn’t even tell what was going on. He was reaching for you, grabbing onto your arm in a tight grip, jerking you from the ground, giving you whiplash. You suck in a sharp breath as pain blooms from your elbow to your shoulder. Your free hand reaches out to push against his arm, and in another quick move you didn’t think was humanly possible, he was letting go of your arm, switching his grip to his metal hand which was wrapping around your throat, cutting off your air supply. Your eyes are widening as he lifts you from the floor as if you were a fly. You claw at the metal, a strangled cry leaving your mouth. “Put her down. She’s harmless,” A deep voice is commanding, and you’re being dropped to the floor immediately. You reach to your neck, putting as much distance between you and this man, which wasn’t much.  
The man who spoke is walking into the cage, staring proudly at the man, this wicked gleam in his eyes. He’s flickering his eyes to you, and you push your back against the cement wall. “Alexander Pierce. Meet my proudest project. The Winter Soldier,” You turn your eyes to the man, The Winter Soldier, and there’s no life in his eyes. There’s nothing. “Know why you’re here?” Alexander is asking, and you shake your head slowly. He’s walking deeper inside, his footsteps echoing. “I’ve experimented on men and women. The ones who fight and exhaust themselves. Most war occupations than anything…but a nurse…what kind of drive do you have to survive?” His question makes your heart squeeze, and you know his thoughts are venturing to the many different ways he can make you squirm. You chance a glance at the man, and then back to Pierce. You weren’t getting through the cage door. You wouldn’t even make it a step forward.  
He was going to break you. You knew this. He was going to make you scream the same way he made him scream. The thought is terrifying, but you face the line of danger every day going into that hospital. Fighting for people’s lives, praying a disgruntled patient or former patient doesn’t barge into the emergency room waving a weapon, sicknesses that have no cure. You’ve been broken before. Emotionally. When you lost everything…so how much different would physical pain be?  
You stare at this evil man…your lips pursing.  
Caged In 
Physical pain was torture.  
Your sweating forehead was being dabbed by a cool cloth, and the doctor, some German name you’d have no intention of remembering it, was harshly speaking to you in a foreign language. A human being could be electrocuted, at low voltages. It felt like pins upon pins were stabbing you everywhere, and it didn’t help that you couldn’t scream. Your teeth were biting down on the leather strap, and your hands were handcuffed to the sides of the metal gurney. The effects to what this had on you weren’t what he apparently wanted. He had given you this serum of sorts, blue, injecting it into the IV, and at first, you could feel something happening to your body before you were expelling it. Throwing it up all over the floor, and it just seemed to make him angrier.  
Why won’t you take it?! 
That’s the first thing he screamed to you as you stared up at him with teary eyes. He tried inserting it into your veins straight from the needle, and again, it coursed through your body, and you were throwing it up almost immediately the next time around. He then came to a conclusion that maybe your body had to be under extreme stress, thus his inflicting this round of pain upon you. You weren’t sure what they did to the man for him to be able to withstand this, and you can only assume the blue stuff is what made him be able to sustain such pain.  
The buzzing through your body is still intensified even though the machine has been turned off. Your wrists are being freed as well as the rest of your body, and you’re leaning over unwillingly, gravity weighing you down. Your hands barely brace against the floor as you fall into a heap, a soft groan leaving you, parts of your body unwillingly twitching. The voices are you are lingering, melding together, and the doctor is speaking. “Get her up and out of here. I want her back here in the morning,” Black boots enter your peripheral, and something silver is swiping across your sight before you’re being picked up off the floor as if you weighed nothing.  
Caged In 
Your cheek stung, your ribs hurt, and your arms were throbbing.  
The heavy brown boot is knocking into your side, keeping you down, and you slowly roll on your back, hazily looking up at the figure staring down at you. That’s all he did. Watch and intervene. If necessary. Two weeks; your strength and the doctor’s patience was waning. You were adapting to the situation, but not how Pierce was hoping for. You knew that, but you knew that the longer you fought, the longer it would prolong your life.  
In the two weeks you’ve been in this unknown place that held other kidnapped people, but none quite like you, the idea of escaping was nonexistent. You would never make it out of here alive, and as long as Pierce told his program to do something, he did it. Without question. Without cause. If he told him to run after you, you could forget making it anywhere. As far as you knew, you were the only female, the last woman you did see had been here for a few hours at best, and you never saw her again. You believed her to be dead. Pierce planned to put you through the ringer in whatever way he could think of, and that included fighting against a man half your size, and you were losing.  
Your body was still weak from the electrotherapy as the doctor called it, and as excruciating as it was, your brain had its way of protecting you in the only way it knew how. Going to a place where this did not exist. A place where you once truly smiled. A place where you were happy. Safe. With the people you loved. With your friends. Before the nursing…. before…it all.  
“Get her up,” The man, Rumlow you think is his name, gruffly murmurs. He’s looking down at you, and he does something he’s never done before. He hesitates. He’s looking back at Rumlow confused as if he did not understand. “She is tired,” He explains, and you’re blinking as Rumlow is coming to stand beside your head. “Why the fuck do you care? I said get her up. I’m not finished,” You’re shaking your head, practically pleading with your eyes as he bends down, pulling you up to your feet. You wobble, and Rumlow is grabbing your arm hard, making you clench your eyes shut. “I think he needs a reboot or some shit,” You ignore the pain, for a moment, as you hear the same voice as before, the one that was reading from the book when you first woke up.  
You knew what this meant, and now you felt guilty because you knew what was coming. “No, no. He…was only…” Your face is being grabbed by rough hands, and your eyes are sweeping across the room before you’re meeting Rumlow’s. “I’d shut the fuck up before I send you right with him,” Your eyes are glazing over with tears as the machine wires on, the lights flicker, and he’s screaming again.  
Caged In 
You were exhausted, but that didn’t stop you from waking up when your barred door was being unlocked and he was walking in. You didn’t know his name, and you didn’t want to refer to him as the winter soldier always, but you had no choice but to think of him as such. He looked…unbothered as always, and your stomach lurches at what they were doing to him. They just kept making him forget, making him colder, making him into this killing machine. You didn’t know how deep the Winter Soldier program ran, but you assumed, like Pierce had said, he was the most successful.  
Your words from the night before probably ring no bearing to him as he glares down at you. He’s saying something you in Russian, his voice snappy and demanding, but you have no clue as to what he was saying. He’s grabbing you by the shirt, pulling you to a stand, and there’s some man you’ve never seen before. You could only assume he was another one of the people who rounded up people like you. You’re rearing back as he’s reaching for you, and you swat at his hands as they attempt to roam. “Get away from me,” He’s smirking, letting you hit at him, your fists not doing as much damage as you would have hoped. He’s tugging on your shirt, pulling you against him. You push away from him, a distressed hum leaving your mouth as he is grasping your cheeks, scrunching them inward, his gaze, once a bit inebriated, now mixed with dark intention. He’s letting your face go, before a long arm is snagging around your waist, keeping you against him as he walked out of the cage and towards a set of various doors.  
Panic truly sets in as you start to claw at this man’s arm, and you’re inching away from him as far as possible.  “No! No!” You start to kick your feet, not caring about screeching as loud as you could. He’s unphased by your nails scratching at him and your body hitting his in any way it could. He’s continuing idly, opening one of the doors. You brace your feet against the wall beside the door as he turns you around, pushing with your own weight, sending both of you flying backwards. You land on the floor next to him, scrambling to get up from the floor. As you’re coming up on your feet, you turn, your eyes widening briefly, a gasp leaving your lips as Rumlow is standing there, his fist connecting with your face so hard that all you saw was black as your head hit the concrete. 
Caged In 
It was incredibly dark, and your head throbbed. A bright light is suddenly shining on, causing your eyes to squint. Your head bobs lightly as you look down, your eyes catching the familiar seat pattern. There were claw marks in the foam of the chair, and you slowly lift your head, watching as Pierce comes into view, smiling down at you. “You just stay in trouble, don’t you?” He asks humorously. You don’t respond, and he’s humming. “Silent treatment. Okay. Anyway, and this isn’t personal by the way, but I’ve got to keep the balance here just right. Just because you’re a girl doesn’t mean I treat you any less fairly. This lovely thing…as I am sure you have seen…is amazing. I don’t plan to wipe your memory, but I do plan to teach you a lesson,” He’s standing slowly, and there is this doctor you’ve only ever seen in this area coming upon you, your blurry gaze focusing slightly.  
He’s forcing your mouth open before shoving a mouthpiece inside your mouth, between your teeth.  
This? This felt so much worse. The second he turned the machine on, tears were springing into your eyes. The pain was excruciating, and you willed your brain to go to its happy place. However, there was nothing for you to think on but the pain. There was no way to describe it, and you clench your eyes shut, your fingers digging into the arm rests. Your eyes were starting to roll, an indicator that you were going to pass out. The mouthpiece was hard and cut at your tongue, and you could taste the blood lingering there. Were you screaming or crying? It was such a mix that you didn’t even know at this point. Why you? Why on that day? Why did you ever go into work? 
Why weren’t you home that day? Why didn’t you answer your phone? Why didn’t you… 
The machine is powering down, and you are staring at the floor, still crying, though your screaming has ceased. There’s flashing red lights over the floor, and a heavy hand is suddenly forcing your face up, and the dark look in his eyes brings you no clam, only apprehension. “Bodrstvovat',” He practically hisses, undoing your wrists and then dropping to do your ankles. You stare at him, partly confused because your brain hadn’t quite recovered yet, and also because you were sure that something was going on, but he was helping you. He’s pulling the mouthpiece from your mouth, and you spit the blood from your mouth. He’s jerking you to a stand, briefly pushing on your body to gauge your balance. It isn’t steady. However, he’s handing you a gun, but before you take it with shaking hands, he’s tugging you by the shirt, threateningly speaking. The Russian inflection in his tone makes you shiver. His threat seemed the most promising of anyone here. “You shoot me, you die,” You nod to showcase your understanding, and you grip onto his arm for balance, the metal seemingly altering under your touch as if ready to burst a hole through your chest. You can see the displeasure in his eyes briefly at just the mere idea of you touching him before they were glossing over with this indifference. He’s turning, and you follow behind him, ignoring the yells and shouting from other people. He’s leading you in that general direction, where the commotion lies. You stay behind him, the gun in your hand. You didn’t know how to shoot a weapon but you would learn today.  
You grip onto his vest as he barges through the crowd, and you hold onto your weapon tightly, keeping your eyes on his form as he is shooting his gun without even really looking in any direction. A heavy body is knocking into you, taking you to the floor, and your head hits the concrete, but you will yourself not to black out. Not here. A searing pain is sliding through your side, and your scream is drowned out by the others. You couldn’t see who was on top of you, and you didn’t care. The knife in their hand was dropping the moment you pulled the trigger. The body is being jerked off you, and a hand is gripping you by the arm, pulling you up, cold, blueish eyes looking at you approvingly before pulling you along.  
You stay behind him, only becoming a bit more sure in this plan as he’s leading you from the large room and down a series of empty halls. “Hey!” You risk the chance of turning your head, and there’s the man from yesterday, aiming a gun at the both of you. You’re being tugged around the corner, and bracing your back against the wall, you chance a glance to the left of you where your companion was focused on the wave presumably blocking the way out. Turning back to your own man, you find that he’s not alone anymore, and you don’t know how many rounds this gun holds, but you try to make every shot count. Your eyes blink with every press of the trigger and your ears pop with every loud burst of fire that goes off. Your aim wasn’t as all over the place as you feared. You were at least hitting your target.  
“I’m running out! You got anything else?!” Your fingers press on the trigger again, but it just clicks, and he’s quickly switching places with you, handing you another weapon that felt heavier, almost vibrating with your fingers on the trigger. He’s crouching to the floor, and you manage to catch him digging into the back pocket under his vest, his metal fingers expertly grabbing at something. The bullets whizzing past your head make you turn back to the issue at hand, and you press the trigger on this gun, your eyes widening as multiple rounds are being let off at once. Your arm is being grabbed, and he’s pulling you at hurdling speed into a pair of steel doors, bursting them open. While he’s leading you along, you continue firing, only stopping when you saw nothing but smoke. A large burst of fire is erupting from the building, and you realize that this place was a bank. “We were in a bank?!” You’re turning around to catch your footing as he tugs you along, running for a vehicle. He doesn’t respond, instead, pulling open one of the doors to a truck, sliding over to the passenger side before reaching out and pulling you into the driver’s seat. He’s leaning over to fiddle with the wires underneath, sparks flickering before it was starting.  
He takes the gun from you, nestling it by his feet. “Drive,” He’s commanding lowly, and you turn to grab your seatbelt, but he’s grabbing your hand tightly. “Now,” You nod before putting the car in drive and stepping on the gas petal, the tires screeching against the asphalt.  
Caged in  
Returning to your apartment was never going to happen and you knew this when you drove off, but it hit home when you crossed state lines into New York. You’d been driving for hours, your eyes wide open, foot pressed on the gas as if there was a trail of fire on your ass. Your eyes kept flickering to the rearview mirror, and your heart didn’t stop beating a mile a minute. “Get off on the exit, and slow down,” You’re doing exactly what he says, your foot pressing on the brake much harsher than you would have liked due to someone merging in front of you. Your right hand comes to brace across his body out of instinct as the car comes to a halting stop in front, and you glance over at him warily.  
He's reaching for his gun as the driver’s side door is opening, and stepping out is obviously a disgruntled driver. He’s pushing your hand away, and you bite your lip in fear as the man is yelling at the both of you, walking his way to the car. The Winter Soldier is leaning half of his body out of the window with his gun aimed, and the driver is quickly getting back into his car. He’s speeding off in front of you, and you slowly start to drive again, glancing over at him as he leans back into the car. “Was that necessary?” You question nervously, and you don’t have to look at him to feel his annoyance. “Drive,” He just replies.  
*** 
You warily step on the boat, following him as he steps on, speaking to the captain in a foreign language. “What about her?” You lean against the side, looking out into the dark sea, your hand flitting to your side as it started to throb. Now that the adrenaline was slowly fading, your wounds needed attention. “She’s of no concern,” You tear your eyes to him before looking to the captain. “Actually, if you’ve got any alcohol, that would be fantastic and a first aid kit if you have one,” He’s glancing at you warily, looking at the slowly growing red blotch on your scrubs. “I don’t have nothing for that, but I can definitely get you some needle and thread,” He’s inclining his head for you to follow, and you stare at him, his gaze on you as you brush past him.  
You’re led to the captain’s quarters where he’s guiding you down to a desk, placing a bottle of tequila on the table next to a needle and thread. He’s pressing a few buttons, fiddling with something that you presumably believed was for starting the boat. You lift your shirt, wincing at the deep gash on your side that was oozing blood. You’re untwisting the cap off the bottle before taking a swig, letting the burn ride your throat before you were slowly pouring it over your wound. You grit your teeth, groaning in pain as it burned. You tilt your head back, blinking away the tears.  
“Fuck,” You breathe, a hum of discomfort leaving you. Placing the bottle back on the table, your shaking hand reaches for the needle and thread, and you go about casting it through the small hole. After a few hazy tries, your frustration becoming apparent, a hand is reaching out, snatching it from you before it was being given back, threaded, and you go about inserting the needle through your skin, your lips trembling as sweat dripped down your forehead. You keep your eyes open as the needle pierces through your skin, sniffling with each slow passing. “Fuck, I forgot to disinfect this,” You whisper to yourself, and you look around for a lighter. One is being placed in your hand, the lighter shaking slightly, and you flick your finger, the small fire illuminating your skin in a soft glow. Brushing the lighter across the needle, you pray for the best, slowly continuing with the process of sewing your skin together.  
You want to pass out from sheer exhaustion alone by the time you’re finished, but you just set your shirt down, leaning into the chair. He was staring off into space, and you’re almost afraid to startle him on accident. You hesitantly reach out with a hand, tapping a finger across his arm, quickly retracting your hand as to not let him jerk you if he so pleased. He’s slowly looking down at you, his gaze a mix of lost and cold. “Thanks…” You whisper, and though he says nothing to you, you know that he understands. That he had a reason for helping you. His nod is small, you almost missed it, but it was there. 
Caged In  
The morning, saltwater air is the only soothing things against your rolling stomach, and you stay close to the inner potion of the old cargo boat, breathing through your mouth. You keep yourself against the wall, smiling hesitantly at one of the crew members. “Not a fan of the sea?” He’s asking, and you pause, shaking your head. “No. Not really. First time being on a boat,” He’s smiling at you, lightly chuckling. “You’ll get used to it,” You shrug, closing your eyes against the wave of nausea. “I hope so,” You murmur, and when you open them, he’s holding out his hand, offering you what looks like a mint. “It helps,” He assures, and you warily glance down at his hand before taking it. “Thanks,” As you pop it in your mouth, you’re meeting his distant stare as he stands on the other end near the captain. You can feel his hard stare on you, and you wonder if he’s upset you’re talking to people.  
He didn’t say you couldn’t converse, only to keep your mouth shut…which in your defense was hard to do especially if someone was asking you something.  
The man is turning to see where your attention lied, and you almost shiver as you can feel his cold gaze shift. “He your boyfriend?” The worker questions, and you shake your head. “No. He’s…just someone I met,” He’s turning to you then, the wind blowing through his curly hair, his bronze skin making you smile slightly. “Don’t ask too many questions, yeah? Thanks for the mint,” He moves to let you pass, and you slowly make your way down, focusing on breathing through your mouth.  
*** 
Your body is tired now, and you were starving. The day was long, and now that darkness has descent, you curled onto the small bed into this extra room on the boat, glancing up at your companion. “Do you sleep?” You question, and he just shakes his head. “No,” He replies as he looks down at you. He was standing by the door like a guard dog, but you wouldn’t trick yourself into assuming he was guarding you. He probably had nothing to do with himself. “You don’t have to stand there,” You murmur sleepily, your eyes drooping. The boat is rocking, and you turn on your side, facing away from him. “I’m…fine…if that’s the only reason you’re standing there. Either sit or leave because you’re making me nervous,” You mumble, and he’s grunting in disdain at you but you can hear the door closing behind him as he leaves. Sleep claimed you very quickly, and you believe that your tiredness is what keeps the nightmares at bay.  
Caged In 
Bucharest was fucking cold, and you were shivering under the bundled coat you were given. Don’t speak. Don’t ask questions. He’d told you, rather commanded you moments before getting off the boat. You were just happy to be off that god forsaken thing. You’d happily oblige anything else. He was talking in Romanian to a man, and you couldn’t help but huddle beside him, his body generating heat. You keep your gaze down, listening to them talk. A passport is being shoved in your hand, and you wondered how he had all this set up. You’re following behind when he moves, softly speaking to him once the two of you crossed into the city. “Where are we going?” You ask between the chattering of your teeth. “Safe house. Be quiet,” You huff quietly, shivering again, pursing your lips. This safe house was a good distance by walking, and you were slightly bothered by the fact that he didn’t seem too much affected though he had a jacket on. You believed it was to blend in, and he walked silently beside you. It was a beautiful city, from what you could see, and after walking for over 30 minutes, your feet were aching. Your steps were starting to slow, and you kept blinking to see clearly. “How m-much f-f-further?” Stuttering, you glance up at him, and he glances down at you. You wouldn’t know this now, but he just might’ve appreciated the fact that you didn’t complain. He’s pointing to a small house in the distance that was at least another 15-minute walk, and you nod your head, pulling the coat up higher against your neck.  
*** 
The safe house was cold of course, but it was warmer than the outside elements, and once inside, you were sitting down on the floor, shivering in your coat and blowing into your hands. He was walking around you, his heavy boots tapping against the floorboards before he was stepping into another room and leaving out a door. You’re not too concerned what he’s doing, only hoping its to cut the power on. As if your thoughts could be heard, the generator is cutting on, and you sigh. The heat would soon be coming on, and that made your throbbing feet worth it. He’s coming back inside, though he doesn’t come back to where you sat, seemingly rummaging through something in another room.  
You only find yourself able to move when the heat finally kicks on, and you properly take a look around. It was a very small house, but neat and roomy. It only had one bedroom, a bed big enough for one person and basic bathroom. Nothing too fancy. There was a standard kitchen attached to another room, that held a couch. You weren’t too picky about what things looked like, satisfied with the fact that you were safer. At least you hoped so with him being around. Despite his cold shoulder in regard to you, he hasn’t done anything to physically hurt you, and you believe he prefers you stay out of his way while he did whatever it is he was doing. You didn’t know why he decided to help you. You didn’t care really. You were here, even if that held some unknown door for what your life would look like now.  
Your home. Your job. Your friends. That was gone. That was over.  
Now? You didn’t know what this meant for you or what he planned to do, but you’d wait out this unknown before finding some way to start over.  
After exploring the place a bit, finding it semi stocked with food that you’d never even seen or heard of, you were drawn to one of the closets as you could hear some rummaging behind the doors. You weren’t a shoot first, ask questions later kind of person, but your companion was, brushing past you the moment he heard something, wrenching open the closet doors, his gun drawn. You caught the sight of the small animal before he did, and you were almost swooping down before him to grab it from the floor before it became the subject of bloodshed. He’s however beating you to it, snatching up the small white furball of a cat with a hand, the pained shrieking making your heart drop. “Stop! It’s a cat!” You push against his arm, your hands wrapping around the animal, trying to be gentle as you tried snatching it away from him. He’s letting it go, and it’s cuddling into your arms for protection, and you’re caught off guard as your back is pressing against the wall harshly, his metal hand wrapping around your throat.  
He’s squeezing, not enough to cut off your breathing, but hard enough where it hurt, and his cold gaze is glaring as he stares at you. You swallow, your eyes widening as he steps against you, his eyes crinkling into an even harsher glare, and you can feel his fist tightening and releasing pressure, as if he were struggling. The cat is tearing from your hard grip, jumping along his arm, and his eyes flicker in confusion, his head turning slightly to watch the feline walk up his arm, and then purr against his neck before hopping down. He’s slowly letting you go, and you bring up a hand to rub at the tender flesh. With hesitance, you move away from him, bending down to pick up the cat, holding it close to your chest. You weren’t sure what went through his head, and despite what they did to him there, probably even before you came along, he still instilled a sense a fear in the back of your mind, and at least for the moment, you were okay with stepping away from his presence. “I…You can stay in here. I’m…I’m okay on the couch,” Your voice wavered slightly, and he’s staring back at you, without a murderous glare this time.  
You start to turn away, using your arm to wipe at your eyes.  
You weren’t hiding out in another country, just for this. Maybe you couldn’t hold it all on him, but he couldn’t just snap at you at the drop of a dime. With a hesitant sigh, you’re turning back to face him, meeting his gaze through your tearing eyes. Clearing your throat, you hold the cat tighter to you. “If we’re staying here, you can’t just threaten me or…hurt me just because I do something you don’t like. I’m on your side here. Remember that before you decide you want to choke me,” You don’t expect him to say anything, and he doesn’t, but you can feel the heavy weight of his gaze on your back as you left the room.  
You were sure that he didn’t sleep as the night went on, and after finding a cover that was draped over the back of the couch, you set the cat on the floor, petting its fur. It hops back up to lay with you as you settle into the hard cushions. Its claws tickle slightly as it paws over your chest before settling down. You sniffle quietly, huffing at yourself as you wipe your eyes. Now that you could rest and think, your brain had plenty of ample time to replay what has happened in the span of just a few weeks, and this moment of emotional confusion and fear was a catalyst to what harbored deep within your brain.  
*** 
The tension from then on was palpable and avoiding him became top priority. He seemed to hold the same regard for you, and you were never in the same room as him. He seemed to leave every day, at the same time, gone for the same amount of time, and you used that alone time to shower. You wondered if that was his way of giving you privacy. Maybe he could see the fear all over your face. Maybe he was aware of how you avoided crossing paths with him. Regardless, you used this time for yourself.  
You were usually out by the time he returned, and you were slipping on some clothes, opening the bathroom door. He was just stepping into the room, and you leave the door open, holding your towel to you as you slowly make your way around the bed. You were waiting for him to move, which he usually did, leaving you ample room to leave. You avoid looking at him, your heartbeat quickening slightly the longer he stood there. Without a word, he’s stepping towards you, and on instinct, you were stepping back, the back of your knees hitting the edge of the bed, and you’re unable to keep your balance, finding yourself sitting down. Swallowing heavily, you stare up at him with wide eyes. You didn’t think he’d hurt you again, not that you don’t think he meant to the first time the more you thought about it, but it was jarring when he moved. It felt like he was rushing at you.  
He stops a few feet in front of you, brows furrowing slightly. He’s rolling his shoulder, the sound of mechanical whirring following at the same time. To you, it looks as if he were going to say something, but he merely walks into the bathroom, and you let out a breath, slowly coming to a stand. You hastily make leave for the other room, and you’re caught off guard as there is a bag of food waiting on the counter. Setting your towel down on the back of a chair, you unravel the bag, finding a hot to-go box that emitted the smell of something that resembled Chinese food. Upon opening it, it was Chinese, and you found a napkin, fork, and even a cup of water all for you. Was he trying to tell you that he got you food and just didn’t know how? It was a new response from him, and you wondered if he were either keeping you satiated or attempting to offer some form of peace. It was still hot, and you take it over to the couch, settling down, eating silently. While your thoughts mostly lied in the here and now, you were aware of his presence when he stepped out of the room, a long-sleeved shirt on with a pair of sweats.  
He kept the mask on much to your curiosity, but you don’t voice that yet.  
There was still the possibility that he might be nice now, but what about tomorrow? 
Or the day after? 
Were you being fair in this assessment of him? You weren’t holding everything against him, but he had to learn. He had to learn that not all people were horrible, and that not all people were going to hurt him, and for you? You had to have patience. Talking wasn’t on his priority list to understand these things, so you had to show him. The more he understood of how his actions affected himself and those around him would you hope he becomes comfortable enough to talk about things.  
“Thanks….by the way,” You murmur as you can feel his gaze on you. “Hungry?” You ask, extending out your arm, and his gaze flickers to the tray. He’s looking back at you as if confused by what you just asked him. “Eat. Do you eat?” You reiterate, tilting your head at him. “It’s good,” You add, and he just shakes his head, sitting down in the chair beside the counter.  
*** 
From there, something shifted. It was a small shift, but one that you noticed, nonetheless. The tension eased greatly. You felt less like a prisoner, and more like a person that’s not being watched 24/7. Food seemed to be a peace offering in his mind, and like clockwork, every other day, he was dropping you off something new to eat. He had this habit now of sitting in the same room as you as you ate, never saying anything, his gaze on nothing in particular.  
It was simple. He was sharing space with you. At a distance. 
Tonight, you were heating up your leftovers, and you turn towards him, leaning over the counter. He was fiddling with the wooden chopsticks you had, his fingers placed awkwardly over them, his head tilted. You chuckle lightly as his brows furrow. “You’re using them wrong,” He’s glancing up at you, and you slowly walk around the counter, standing on the other side of him. “It’s like this,” Reaching out a hand, you slowly place it on top of his metal one. He’s looking up at you then, eyes searching yours. Slowly, your fingers spread across the cool surface, and you’re fixing his fingers. You show him how to push them together, and he does what you show him a few times.  
The microwave is beeping, and you move away from him, walking back around and pulling the food from the microwave. You decide to place it near him, motioning for him to pick up the piece of broccoli. “Try it,” He goes in for the grab, picking up a part of the stem before it was falling back into the styrofoam plate. He goes to try again, deciding to pick up a noodle. The result is the same, and he’s grunting in annoyance. The chopsticks break against the pressure in which he was holding it, and he’s tossing the broken pieces to the side. “Okay…how about these,” You reach for the metallic ones that you’d recently just bought, handing them to him. You make your way back around the counter, standing alongside him, placing them in his hand.  
You guide his fingers again, leaning forward a bit to fix the way his hand was placed. Your hair brushes against his arm, and you turn your head just slightly to gather an understanding of what was going through his mind. His gaze is warm almost, his brows drawn inward as he keeps your gaze. He was a closed book to you. You couldn’t discern any viable emotion in his eyes, only able to tell the difference between him being beyond angry or when he was in a mellow mood.  
This gaze of his was neither angry nor mellow. It seemed different. You ease up, guiding his hand over the tray, helping him pick up a piece of broccoli and hold it without fumbling it. You smile softly, and to your surprise, he’s pressing the sauce covered vegetable to your lips. Slowly opening your mouth, he’s placing it into your mouth, his eyes drifting to your chin as it dribbled past your lips. You go to reach for a napkin, but his other hand is coming up, his warm thumb swiping it away. 
It's your turn for your brows to furrow as you stare at him.  
With a newfound ease, he’s grabbing a piece of chicken, holding it up. He’s meeting your gaze again, pushing out his hand. Opening your mouth again, you take the piece of chicken from him, slowly chewing. After swallowing, you place your hand over his. “You don’t have to…” You whisper. He’s turning his hand over, setting the chopsticks down, and you slide your hand into his. You stare down at your adjoined hands, tilting your head. His hand is lax, and his fingers start to curl inward slowly, giving you time to pull your hand back if you so wished.  
You don’t.  
He lifts his head, his eyes narrowing slightly, but not in annoyance, rather in thought.  
With your other hand, you reach up to brush your fingers against his temple. His cool fingers tighten slightly over yours as you do so, and you freeze, frowning. “I’m not going to hurt you,” You whisper. He’s lifting his hand, his warm skin pressing against your cheek. With a pass of his hand, he’s brushing your hair to the side, his thumb brushing along your neck in the process.  
You suck in a breath as he places your hand against his vest, over his heart.  
Caged In 
When you first got him the journal, you almost laughed at the way he looked so confused. As if he didn’t know what to do with it. You were standing alongside him one afternoon, passing him the pen. “It’s for your thoughts you know? When you’re confused or remember something. I know you said you don’t eat, but plumbs are good for helping with memory,” He stares at you and then down at the pen. You scribble your name across the first page, setting the pen down.  
“You don’t have to write in it every day, but it could help to do so. Write what you think is important. You never know what you’ll remember,” He’s taking the pen from you, pausing momentarily before he’s slowly writing. You peer over his shoulder, your brows raising at the name he wrote down. Bucky.  
“That’s what he called me,” He says lowly, and you don’t know who this he is, but you assume that it is someone he must know. “Bucky,” You say softly, and he’s turning his head to look at you. He’s turning in the chair to face you, and he’s gently grabbing your wrist, holding up your left hand. He’s pulling your hand close to his face, and your fingers slip under the black mask that hid his features. His muscles tense underneath your fingers, and you stop your prodding.  
You stare down at him, and he’s intently watching you.  
One of his hands slowly press against your hip, his fingers softly digging into your shirt, seeping into your skin. He’s nudging you closer, and you step between his legs. His head leans forward against your abdomen, his forehead resting against you. Your free hand is reaching up to tangle your fingers in his hair. You slowly run the tips against his scalp, massaging gently, and his hand slips around until his arm is resting lightly around your waist.  
**** 
Bucky accepted your affection in a way that was neither fully reciprocated nor rejecting. You usually made the first move to initiate some form of contact, all of which was inherently friendly and open. He seemed to like it the most when you were touching his skin, silently sitting while you stood, his arm woven around you like a cocoon. You didn’t say anything to him, offering your affection and support just through touch. It didn’t happen very often, though when it did, it usually lasted for a long time before you were ready to sit, and he eventually learned to move away from you, signaling that you were free to move away. The silence would linger, but it wouldn’t be uncomfortable.  
This became a new normal over the next two months. There was nothing new going on, and the days consisted of either staying inside or going out on a store run. Most of your nights and days were in this house, and it was quiet. There was no tv, not that you would know what to watch, and there wasn’t a radio that could add any noise. It was just you and him. Along with the cat that would occasionally wander in before disappearing into the night. It wasn’t so bad, and over the last week, Bucky had finally been writing in his journal. You didn’t like hovering when he did, but you were anxious to know how he was doing mentally. He of course was still very stoic, doing things within a routine, with a purpose, and that seemed to fit him just fine. You? You were coming along somewhat well. Sometimes you had nightmares, and sometimes you didn’t sleep at all, but you were pushing through. As the days went on, you kept thinking about the type of life you would have, and you didn’t want to spend the rest of it in Romania. You didn’t know how long this would take, but you were slowly starting to come to the conclusion that this was your life, and that meant eventually, you’d have to make new connections here. If you wished. You missed your apartment; you missed your coworkers…but then again…was it ever really home? 
You glance over at Bucky as he’s closing his journal, getting up from his chair. You watch him curiously as he picks up a plumb, setting it in his jacket pocket. You can’t help but smile. The last few batches you had to toss because he wasn’t eating them, and they were starting to spoil. You lift the magazine over your face as he turns to look at you. Meeting his eyes, you lower the magazine, smiling at him. His head cranes to the side, and he steps towards you as he zips up his jacket. “Where are you going?” You question, focusing all of your attention on him. “Out. Don’t leave,” You hum in understanding, nodding. “We should really work on your communication skills. When will you be back?” You ask, setting the magazine down, your hands pressing against the cushions. “Soon,” He replies in response, stopping just a few feet in front of you. “Right. I’ll…see you soon,” You come to a stand, and he’s stepping forward, almost pressing against you. With a hand, he’s tugging on your shirt, his arm weaving around your waist, mimicking something close to an embrace. Your eyes close briefly as the coolness of his fingers span against your cheek.  
His nose is nudging your temple, and he’s taking in a deep breath before letting you go. 
***** 
Bucky had never been gone long for more than two hours at best, and even then, it was such a rarity. When the two hours finally struck, you started to pace, peering out the window every few minutes. You knew not to worry so much about him as he was very capable of taking care of himself. He was durable and could hold his own in a fight. Still though, you worried about his safety when his mental state was not at all 100%. After two hours, and no sign of him did you go on the hunt for your jacket. He said not to leave, but you were going to find him. You’re slipping your sleeves in, zipping it up once on, looking around for anything you may need. Just as you’re slipping on your shoes, the front door is opening, and your breath catches at the sight of him. He definitely didn’t look the same way he left, a few scratches on his face, the blood drying already, and his vest was slashed in various places, the dark red blending into the fabric.  
“What happened to you?” You’re making your way towards him, pulling off your jacket in a hurry, tossing it off to the side. He’s leaning against the door, his eyes tightening as he stares up towards the ceiling. “Bucky?” He’s holding out a hand for you not to come any closer, saying something to you. A warning you believe it to be. “Derzhis' podal'she,” He hisses, his hand pressing against his side. You ignore such words and gestures, stepping up to him, pulling on his hand. “Get away from me,” He says lowly, his head dropping to meet your concerned gaze. You pause, definitely weighing the two options you had. “You’re hurt,” You protest softly, tugging on his hand to pull his arm away. He’s just grunting as you force his hand away. You start to pull on him so that he could sit. You needed to see how bad off he was. 
He's following you, albeit hesitantly, and as you’re leading him to sit in the chair by the counter, he’s grabbing his journal as he sits. “Move your hands, this can wait,” You start to take the journal from him, but he’s turning it around for you to see what he’s written. Your eyes travel across the scrawling of random words and names that he would only understand until the three words are warranting your attention.  
Don’t hurt her 
Your eyes catch his troubled gaze, and you gently take the book from him. “I trust you,” You whisper in assurance, setting the book back down. “Let me see you,” You murmur, reaching for his vest, and he’s grabbing your hand in a quick move. He starts to squeeze your hand, and your jaw tightens. Your sturdy features are dropping to one of discomfort as he brings you to your knees. Your other hand is clenching his pants leg, and you groan softly, trying to keep your eyes on him. His name falling from your lips is like a trigger for him, and he’s letting go of your hand. You cradle your hand to your chest, wiggling your fingers in the process. He’s coming to a stand, and you quickly follow his lead. “Sit down,” You advise, reaching for him.  
“Bucky…please. It’s okay,” You soothe, stepping towards him. He’s stepping back with every release of your breath as you slowly advance on him. His back is pressing against the wall, and you reach out to touch his face. He’s grabbing your wrist, holding your hand back. You slowly shuffle towards him, forcing your wrist from his grasp. “It’s okay,” You whisper, placing your hand against the side of his face. “I’m not going anywhere. Let me look at you,” His eyes are pained as he stares at you before they’re softening. You reach for the zipper, slowly unzipping it. You expected him to have a shirt on, but he was shirtless underneath. The revelation makes you realize he didn’t have his jacket with him. Your eyes sweep over the different gashes on his body, and you sigh softly.  
“Okay, these don’t look too bad…” You breathe, and with a gentle nudge, you’re leading him to the bedroom, motioning for him to sit on the bed. he’s removing the vest, wincing as he did so. You were rushing into the bathroom, wetting a fresh rag with hot water. It stings slightly as you  ring it out, but you’re returning, standing in front of him before squatting down between his legs. He leans back slightly as you press under the wound on his abdomen, and you gently wipe. You look up at him with a worried gaze, his eyes above your head. You didn’t really have access to a first aid kit, and you didn’t really need one in conjunction with him. He’s stiff as a board while you tend to him, his breathing even and deep. The wounds looked to be already healing as you sat there, the small ones already turning pink, the larger, deeper scars taking a bit longer. Still, you slowly press under each one, checking him out fully. From what you could tell, these were done by knives. Where did he go? What happened? You come to a slow stand, your hand sliding up the front of his body in the process. Your thoughts quiet as you look down at him.  
He’s grabbing the rag from you slowly, tossing it to the side, his hand reaching to his face. You wait with bated breath as he slowly pulls off the black mask that hid his face from you and anyone he came into contact with. With a gentle tug on your wrist, he’s brining you back down to your knees, staring down at you. He’s guiding your hand to his face, and your fingers spread across the smooth skin. He’s whispering your name softly, and your eyes flutter close as he presses his nose against yours. You pull back first, just slightly, taking in a small breath. You open your eyes to look at him, your thumb slowly rubbing against his temple. His face was set in a frown, his brows drawn. You take your other hand, holding his face. His eyes are opening, his gaze holding very few emotions, and you’re not surprised by the cold stare. Still, it warrants no fear from you. You were starting to find comfort in it. It’s all you’ve gotten to understand of him.  
His hand is sliding up the side of your face, the warmth seeping into your skin as he brushes some of your hair back. “You can’t fix me,” He whispers tightly, and your lips purse. You didn’t believe you could either, but that wasn’t the point. That wasn’t the reason you showed him things, or held him, or touched him with such softness. “I don’t want to fix you. Just help you,” His gaze is narrowing as you lean into his touch. “I’m past helping,” He says, pulling his hand away. You reach for his hand, but he’s standing up, stepping over you. “I don’t care,” You say, using the bed to pull yourself to a stand. You walk behind him, your hand pressing against the red star. His arm is jerking, and you ignore the way his hands fist, your cheek pressing against his shoulder where skin met metal. He’s turning in a swift motion, his warm hand grasping your chin, his fingers pressing into your jaw as he tilts your head up. His touch wasn’t soft by any means, but it didn’t bother you. He was warring with himself now. You could see it in the way he stared at you. A part of him is willing to hurt you, and it wasn’t because of physical contact. Rather the connection you were starting to develop with him, and to him, it probably made sense to take you out. That’s a weakness he cannot afford. Then…there was the man. The man who wanted to do right.  
His grip was tightening, but you’d show no fear. You weren’t scared of him anymore. His jaw is clenching, his eyes narrowing at you. His grip is suddenly easing up on you, and his metal fingers grip at your shirt, tugging you closer. “Vy durak,” He murmurs to you, and your brows lower. “You are a fool,” He repeats in English, and his lips are grazing against yours as he speaks. “I know,” You whisper. Your heart stutters as he stares at you, and his eyes are  guarded. His fingers dig into your side as he holds onto you tightly. Your hands are placed on his pants for support as he was slightly leaning you back. Your eyes flutter close as his lips barely touch yours, his warm breath spanning across your face. They press against your temple before brushing against your ear. “Krasivyy durak,” He murmurs darkly.  
Caged In 
Things changed from there.  
Bucky from the point forward came to the conclusion that he could not worry about the before, but only the now. Trying to search for this past version of himself was difficult, and his memory was still out there somewhere. He was starting to adapt to this different, new life of his, following this drive to stay hidden, away from things that could hurt him…and you.  
This closeness that had developed set forth a trust that would not be taken lightly. You were neither a friend nor a partner, somewhere in between. Physical contact with you came easy to him now, but that didn’t mean he was embracing you every chance he got or sitting alongside you on the couch. They were like more passing moments. Rare moments where the quiet surrounded the both of you, and you’d find yourself staring at him, his gaze trained on you just as equally. Or sometimes…he’d let your hand rest in his grasp, your other tracing invisible lines across his face.  
His touch was just as soothing as yours was, soft but firm with pressure. He had this peculiar habit of holding your chin in his grasp, keeping your gaze locked with his. You felt like his eyes were telling you much more than his voice ever could. You just had to read them. There were these moments of ‘will they, won’t they’, where you were so close to him that the two of you could share breaths. Those quiet moments where all it would take is for either one of you to lean forward. When his hand would drift across your cheek, or when he started murmuring this phrase to you: Malen'kiy  
He didn’t tell you what it meant, but you believed it to be something kind as he’d murmur it so softly to you. You knew nothing about him but what you’ve seen, and he knew only small things about you from your time being held with him in that place. He didn’t talk about it, only telling you that it was called HYDRA. Regardless, you felt connected to him. There was just something about him…you’d never give up on him. He didn’t for you, especially when things would be much easier if he had. He didn’t have to save you. And for that, you owed him your life.  
*** 
There was one rule he had, something he stressed as time went on the closer you became with him.  
You couldn’t leave without him. It didn’t matter if it was to the market where the two of you went to on a daily basis. It didn’t matter if you were walking to the end of the road. Under no circumstances did he want you leaving without him. It wasn’t just about the fact that you weren’t well equipped to handle yourself, but with it being a different country, and no matter how lax of a country, you alone were a target. You were young, pretty, a virgin to the life of danger. Different. He didn’t say that was the reason, but you figured it was. He was trying to protect you, even if he didn’t right out say it.  
It wasn’t your intention to leave at first, but he was in the shower at the time, and you would only be gone for a moment. This was the first time you’d be making something fresh to eat, and you missed a crucial ingredient you needed. You slipped on your jacket and your shoes, slipping out quietly. It was still the afternoon, and you weren’t worried. The 5 minutes it was supposed to take you turned into 15, and then 20. Then 30. You weren’t sure how you got lost especially when you knew the way back by now, and you knew Bucky was probably pissed, looking for you. Since the two of you were always together, there was no need for a cell phone, but now you wish you had one. It was usually a straight walk down into the market and back, but the one you usually went to had moved a bit farther than usual, and you did find it, but it took quite a few turns down blocks and streets.  
You ended up on a winding road that led to nowhere, and you’d been gone for over an hour. Nightfall came quickly in Romania, and just because it was the light out now, didn’t mean it would look like that an hour from now. It was starting to get cold, and you pause in the middle of the road. You decide to turn the way you came, your shoes sliding across the slick cement. You wrap your coat tighter around you, shivering slightly. You were trying not to panic, but how could you not when you were lost, traveling who knows where? 
You rub your hands together, looking around at the setting sun in the distance. If you could make it back to the shops, you’d be alright.  
But you never made it much of anywhere, truly having no idea what you were wandering into.  
*** 
One moment, you were walking, and the next, you were waking up on a table. There was this dingy light swinging above your head, causing your eyes to squint. You groan softly, your head turning to the side. Your hands are chained to the legs of this table, and there’s a calloused hand grabbing your face. He was large in stature, wide, or chubby as you would say, with dirty brown hair, dark brown eyes. He was saying something to you in Romanian, and of course, you didn’t understand.  
He was bending down, squeezing your cheeks, a deep laugh emitting from his chest.  
He’s letting your face go, and there’s this odd slurping sound that captures your attention. To your horror, there is a young boy, maybe between the ages of 14 and 16, chewing on what you believe to be a foot. Your scream is one full of terror, and this stranger’s hand is forcing your face back to him, his voice loud and booming as he laughs at you, chuckling in another language. Your heart practically drops when he does say something in English.  
“Dark meat is so tender,” He’s pressing a dirty hand to your face, and you flinch away from him. You were truly starting to panic as you stare back up at this swinging light bulb, pulling on these chains that went nowhere. You should’ve never left, and the terror that was coursing through you right now was like nothing you’ve ever felt. “Please….let me go,” You whisper, your hands fisting. A smaller, more feminine hand is suddenly tugging on your hair, shifting your gaze up and behind you. She looks like the others, dirty, her teeth a dark brown. Hair thin and brittle, sticking to her sweaty forehead. 
In the all the things you could die from, why cannibals? 
She’s speaking to you in Romanian as well, and her hand raises, the sharp knife in her hand making your eyes gloss over with tears.  A loud blast occurs and she’s flying backwards, but you can’t see anything around you fully. All you can hear is a crashing around you, and the man is leaving your side, only to be tossed over your head, crashing on the other side. Bucky’s face is appearing over you, his mask hiding his face, dark eyes raking over you. “You’re here,” You breathe out tearfully, and he’s nodding. He’s easily jerking your hand free before leaning over and ripping the chain from your other wrist. You’re sitting up quickly, your arms wrapping around his neck. His arm is swooping under you, and he’s pulling you from the table. You didn’t watch to see what he did next, hiding your face in his neck, jumping the two times his gun went off. Your heavy breathing was all that could be heard, even as he steps back outside into the elements. 
“Don’t leave without me again,” He warns you, but his grip tightens around you as he starts the trek home. “I won’t. I won’t,” You promise into his neck.  
Caged In 
Your nerves were rattled. For many reasons. Namely because of the quiet that surrounded you, and his hard stare as he looked at you. You were lucky to be physically unscathed because that would’ve gone left very quickly. All you had was a tender knot in the back of your head. He’s leaning against the kitchen counter, his back to it, arms crossed over his chest. “I told you not to do one thing and it was don’t leave,” “I planned to come right back,” You defend, taking in a deep breath before exhaling. “Planning and doing are two different things. You didn’t come back right away and look where you ended up. I followed your steps very easily, so imagine if HYRDA was here too? They’d find you and kill you. I didn’t bring you here for this to be like a vacation to you,” “What do you expect me to do? I didn’t ask you to bring me anywhere. I’m not like you. I’m a nurse from Washington D.C. who was minding her own business on her birthday, and next thing I know, I’m in some torture facility. I can’t do what you do. I can’t fight to save my life, I can’t just turn off the things about me. I’m human. So yes, I thought I could walk outside like a normal person, and find one stupid ingredient that I don’t even fucking have anymore and come right back,”  
You’re leaning back into the couch, blinking away the frustration tearing at you. He’s quiet for a moment, and you wonder if this’ll be the end of the conversation. You did what you did, and he couldn’t berate you forever about it. You almost became food to a family of cannibals, but you didn’t and that was import…  “I don’t care,”  His words stung lightly, and you can’t help but look over at him, a glare forming on your face. “Of course you don’t. You care about nothing,” You bring yourself to a stand, intent on walking towards the bathroom so you could shower. “Can we argue tomorrow?” You smoothly walk past him, and he seems to give you the space you wished for, or at least you thought he did. You just weren’t able to hear him any longer, and it would be no surprise that he’d knew how to cut off all sound of him even existing. You got as far as stepping into the shower before you could feel his presence like an added weight. The flimsy shower curtain was being pushed back without much regard to your privacy, and the words or shrieks of surprise are unable to leave your throat due to him stepping behind you without concern for his clothes. He’s reaching for you then, and your confusion is being replaced by surprise as he pulls you forward, his grip tight on your waist as he pulls  you flush against him. Your hands squish against his chest, and one of his hands gently grasp at your face. Without a word, he’s closing the distance, his lips pressing against yours in a kiss that was anything but gentle, though it fit this moment perfectly. Your hum of surprise is muffled by his mouth, and you raise your hands, locking your arms around his neck. You pant in between breaths, his lips smooth against yours. He’s following the tilting of your head with his own, his fingers digging tightly into your flesh. Your eyes flutter open as he’s pulling back slowly. “I only care about essential things. My location being untraceable and your safety,”  
In a breath, he was guiding you back under the spray of the warm water, his hands leaving your sides as he unzipped his vest, his gaze wandering your body curiously. There was no point in hiding, too late to take that step back, and your eyes drift as he goes about unzipping his pants after having laid the vest off to the side. Before you could take it in with your eyes, he was stepping forward, his warm body brushing against yours, and while holding your gaze, he’s guiding a hand down, and you involuntarily squeeze. There’s this heated look that flashes in his eyes, and with an arm, he’s pulling you forward, kissing you again. 
*** 
Your body felt like it was on fire. The warmth and cool of his hands contrasting with different parts of your skin. You would consider the shower a warmup, a prelude to what awaited you. It didn’t matter that the two of you were dripping wet, it didn’t matter that the water was left running, or that the floor would be wet in certain spots. All that mattered was the two of you. Like a habit he couldn’t shake, he was holding your face while he kissed you, his other hand holding up a thigh as he rocked into you. He swallowed every little groan and whimper, only pulling away when you’d need to breathe, focusing his lips on another part of your body. Your fingers brush against his back, the pads digging into his skin. “Smotri na menya poka ya trakhayu tebya” The phrase he utters to you is so soft but demanding as he grasps your face again, turning your head back to him. Your legs were quivering, your nails seeping into his skin. You’re turning your head again as pleasure rolls through your body.  
His lips kiss against your ear, tongue licking your warm skin, and he is whispering to you again, this time in English. You don’t know if this is what he said the first time, but you’re obliging upon his heated request, “Look at me while I fuck you,” You turn your head without direction from him, and his gaze is intense, taking every breath away with each pumping of his hips. “Malen'kiy,” He soothes, brushing a hand along your face, and your eyes water. Everything felt intense from the movement of his body, the moments prior leading up to this, and the possibility of what this means when this is over. 
You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you, and you moan softly into his mouth as he dominates your lips, his teeth nipping across your skin. His hand is tightening in your hair, his fingers tangling into your long strands, and your gaze crosses with his. Your eyes are widening with each passing second and he’s now holding your face again, with less pressure, watching you reach the edge before falling apart. There are no words you can say, there’s no sound coming from you besides a small wail, and he’s holding your trembling legs against his waist. There’s this look of pure satisfaction crossing his features your orgasm spreads through your body, your whole body shaking with small tremors, eyes rolling, nails raking across his skin. You can only let out a deep breath as you lay there, staring up at the ceiling in what could be similar to shock and an odd feeling of contentment. 
He was right. You were a fool. But it didn’t matter. You were his fool.  
*** 
You were sprawled across his back when you awoke, your head nestled between his shoulder blades. Blinking your eyes open, you nuzzle into his back. Turning over on your side, he’s shifting as you follow, his arm laying across you. Your hands brush against the metal of his arm, and he squeezes against you. “Tak milo,” He’s murmuring, and you turn to the side to face him. “What happens now?” You lean into his touch as his hand trails up your front, his fingers trailing across your skin, the cool settling across your cheek. “I teach you how to defend yourself,” He says quietly. “If you’re with me, intimately, that makes you more of a target than you were before. You need to learn how to shoot. You need to learn how to defend yourself, against weapons and in a fight,” You nod, scooting closer to him. “And in the long run?” His thumb smooths across your cheek. “You ask pointless questions Malen'kiy,” With a roll of your eyes, you lean over him, sliding across his back. “And you’re horrible at answering them,” You turn your gaze to him as you step off the bed, your lips curling into a smile. “I don’t answer questions that do not need answering. That is your answer,” He’s grabbing your hand before you can get too far. “Shower and then get dressed warmly,” You squeeze his hand before nodding.  
“Are you going to join me?” His gaze darkens as he looks at you.  
*** 
“You know…I’m not much of a push-up kind of girl,” You mumble, groaning as he presses his foot on your lower back, correcting your form. “Keep your arms tight,” He instructs, and you roll your shoulders, pushing your hands closer together. “Tighten your core. It’s like pushing in your stomach,” You tighten your stomach, taking in a deep breath. “Exhale on every drop, and inhale on every rise,” You slowly lower your body, exhaling, inhaling as you push upwards.  
Working out was never anything you’ve ever took the time to care for or do outside of the occasional walk around the block. “Do it again,” He says, removing his foot, and you repeat the process slowly. “Again. Keep your back low,” He’s pressing on your back again before removing his foot. “I thought I was,” You stress, shakily lowering yourself. He’s crouching beside you then, and he’s pressing a hand against your stomach, adding pressure, his other hand pressing against your back, straightening out your body. “Drop,” He’s commanding, and his hands stay where they are, pressing against you as you do to help you contract the right muscles. He’s guiding you back up slowly.  
“Do it again. You need to gain your own upper body strength,”  
You nod to showcase your understanding. He removes his hands, allowing you to do one. It was easier than your first two, but not easy. “Get lower,” He guides you on how low he wants you, and you grunt softly on your way up. “Good,” On your way down, you let your arms rest, and you turn to look at him as he leans to get face level with you. “You have zero upper body strength,” You roll your eyes, huffing. “Gee, thanks for the courage,” He didn’t smile very often, and you wouldn’t call the lifting of his lips a smile, but it was something.  
*** 
You roll over on your back, breathing heavily. “How many was that?” You ask, and he’s standing across the room, raising a brow. “Five,” You give him an incredulous look. “Seriously?” He motions with his hand for you to roll over. “Goal is ten. Keep going,” You groan softly before rolling over, getting your body in position. “Get out of your head, focus on something to ground you,” He murmurs, stepping closer, his foot nudging your feet apart just a bit. You close your eyes, taking in a deep breath before lowering yourself with ease, rising with an intake of breath. “Count in your head if that helps, but don’t focus your energy on getting to ten. Focus on doing one at a time,” As you take into account of what he says, preforming another, he’s walking around you, fixing something here or there to maximize your form.  
When you get to ten, you realize that it wasn’t so bad now that they were done. He’s handing you a cup of water as you sit up. “Does it have to be so hot in here?” You question, greedily taking sips of the cool water. “Helps with endurance. Soon, you’ll be out in the cold,” He’s taking the glass from you, and he’s placing a pillow behind you, and you already know what’s next. It was a routine now. Pushups, sit-ups, planks, lunges, and then squats being last. Your goal was between 10-20 each, with a plank of at least 20-30 seconds. He did keep pushups to 10 at minimum as you were starting out and didn’t want to overexert you. This usually lasted for the hour, hour and a half before he was finished for the day. 
This was only your second week now, and you were usually tired by the time you were finished, but you had to hand it to yourself that you didn’t complain, listening to his instructions and criticisms. He did not go easy on you by any means, just easy on your body, but enough of a challenge for you. Even when you couldn’t hold yourself up for much longer or your stomach was starting to hurt, he was beside you, coaching you through. He always seemed to reward you afterwards, usually by sneaking into the shower with you after turning the heat down a bit and then with a fruit platter he had chilling in the fridge.  
Sex with him wasn’t just a one time every few days, and he’d never admit it, but he liked touching you. May even obsessed with it, and with that revelation in mind, you made sure to have birth control pills on hand. There were some pharmacies where you didn’t have to have a prescription, and you went with this one brand that didn’t have too many side effects and which acted in accordance with your body. It became like second nature to take one every day, especially since they laid next to the little table beside the bed, and sometimes he’d hand them to you after breakfast.  
Over the last few weeks in general, he’d stopped writing in his journal. He explained that he had no use for it anymore. He explained that he understood that he used to be someone that did good things, but he was no longer that person. He was neither a killer unless he had to be, and trying to remember who he was, was stressful and only seemed to fragment his brain even more. He said that he was neither good or bad, and that he simply wanted to live a life that he could understand. While it didn’t include hiding from HYRDA for the rest of his life, he understood it well enough to have the capacity to care for you and make do with what he had access to. Remembering things might only make things worse.  
*** 
The safehouse is quiet, your quiet moans blending in with the soothing murmuring in your ear. Rest day. Your stomach was pressed against the bed, his body hovering over yours, your dark hair in a tight grip as he pressed against you, his abdomen barely rubbing against your ass. Your head was pulled back, your neck being attacked by harsh bites and sucking kisses. “Ya lyublyu trakhat' tebya,” He whispers into your ear, his hips snapping forward sharply causing you to groan in response. Both of your hands were resting in front of you, one on top of the other, his larger hand over your wrists. You swallow heavily, loudly moaning with every swell of his dick jabbing into you, deeply touching every part of you. “Bucky,” You groan, your hands fisting under his. He suckles on your neck, groaning against your skin. “Ty takoy vkusnyy,” He mumbles, and a soft whine ruptures from you. You were a sucker for him speaking in Russian, and you didn’t care that you didn’t understand a thing he said. He’s capturing your lips as you convulse around him, swallowing your cry. You’re dropping your head to rest between your arms, panting slowly, your eyes closing as he releases inside you, slowly with each thrust. He keeps a hold on your hands, pressing kisses against your back, and you find yourself drifting into a peaceful state.  
*** 
You swing at him, and he’s of course dodging your punch. “Good. Again,” You swing with your left hand, barely nabbing his shoulder. “Watch me. Anticipate me,” Your eyes drift across his form as he moves sideways, and you watch his feet as they barely move from the ground. You watch the way his feet seem to slide. Would you be able to do that? How did he do that? His boots barely make a sound. You’re barely moving back as he aims for your face, his knuckles slightly graze across your cheek. “Hey! I wasn’t ready,” You defend, putting your hands back up. “Pay attention,” He snaps in warning. “They’re not going to wait for you to be ready,” Your eyes widen as he’s sending a punch straight for your face, and you lean backwards, bending your back, and he’s tugging on your jacket so you wouldn’t fall backwards, jerking you back forward, his head tilting in surprise before he’s nodding approval.
“Good. Keep your feet planted and firm,” You weren’t sure why he’d tell you that, and you don’t have much time to think about it before he’s lunging for you. Your yelp makes his ears ring as he tackles you to the ground, his hand coming under your head to brace it. He’s looking down at you with a raised brow. “I wasn’t ready?” You say, and the words come out like a question as you sheepishly look up at him. “Don’t think about what I ask you to do. Do it,” He’s easing up off you, grasping your hand to pull you up. He’s giving you a second to get your head straight before he’s lunging for you again, and like the first time, you’re going down. This cycle repeats for at least ten more times, and you’re growing frustrated. “Are you trying?” He’s asking, pulling you back up, and you glare at him. “You’re like a sack of fucking bricks,” You quip in annoyance. “You don’t complain about my weight when I’m on top of…” You’re catching him off guard as you swing at him, and he’s catching your hand, a hum leaving him. You raise your leg, following what you’d instinctively do instead of what was being asked of you. He’s letting your wrist go, swatting down your leg, and you’re punching at him with your other hand, causing him to lift both hands to block his face. His eyes rake over you in approval, “That’s my girl,”  
“I’m your girl now?” You poke, easily falling in line as this turns into a spar. “Why? You’re someone else’s? I’d kill him, I hope you know that,” You can’t help but laugh.   
*** 
Your heart raced in your chest as you ran, the wind blowing in your ears. You could hear your heart thumping, and you slowly slow to a stop, panting heavily as you bow over, placing your hands on your knees. You grab the water given to you, greedily taking gulps of it. “Slow,” He advises, and you nod, taking slow and small sips. You hand him the water, as if he’d need it, but he takes a few sips anyway. You can’t help but take a few steps forward, nuzzling against him for warmth. Despite your running, the heat only lasted but so long. The temperature was dropping almost every other day, and he’d been considering doing other activities and training exercises to keep you from getting sick. However, you said no and that you wanted to run. Running seemed the easiest, especially since he was helping build your endurance. It was calming kind of. You didn’t think about anything really. Not about the current worry or where you were, or even about the fact that you were with him. Your mind was just blank.  
This week, it’s all you focused on, getting further each time.  
His arm is weaving around your shoulders, and he’s holding you close. Your attention is caught by the snapping of a branch somewhere in the distance, and he’s tensing against you, gently pushing you away, his hand reaching to his hip. You get behind him, peering around his arm, your eyes darting across the woods frantically. He’s pulling out his gun, and his body language completely changes. He’s tense, and you know he’s glaring out into the nothingness. Your heart picks back up as there’s a second branch snapping, and his head is tilting before he’s lowering his arm. “Come here,” He’s murmuring to you, and you follow without question, letting him pull you in front of him. Your eyes are drawn to the deer that emerges from the shrubbery, the large antlers like nothing you’ve ever seen.  
Your heart warms at the fawn that hesitantly follows. Both of their eyes are on the two of you, and you stand completely still. You were almost afraid to breathe as to not disturb the atmosphere. They’re slowly continuing on with their journey, turning their backside to the both of you. Bucky is pulling out his sniper rifle, and you look to him with a mixture of confusion and disappointment. “You’re not going to shoot them are you?” He’s chuckling before shaking his head. “No malen'kiy. I’m going to show you how to follow them. Can you see them?” You turn back to where you saw this last, squinting your eyes. “No,” He’s crouching beside you, and you follow his lead as he wraps his arms around you, holding the gun in front of you, the end resting against his shoulder before he was moving a bit so you could look through the scope.
Closing one eye, you look through the magnified lens, his hands guiding the weapon, and you place your hand over his. “There,” It was like they could sense it on them, and you make contact with the male, breathing in awe. They start to move, and you push on Bucky’s arm for him to follow. When they started to run, you could no longer keep up, and you lean back slightly, lifting your head to look up at him. He’s placing it in your hands, guiding your hands along where he had his, and you can hear him click a button. “Be still. It’s going to sting,” “What is? Oh my god that’s freezing,” He keeps your hands where they are, and you grit your teeth as the cool changes to a burning hot before it was cooling back to normal. You move your hands away, shaking them. “What was that?” He’s moving it away, setting it back against his back. “Print sensors. Anyone who touched it that wasn’t me…it wouldn’t end very well for them. Something HYDRA equipped,” You look back up at him incredulously. “Well I could’ve touched it,” He’s raising a brow. “You wouldn’t have,” He says confidently. “Want to run back?” He’s asking, and you shake your head. He’s easing you up to a stand before swiping a hand under your legs. You laugh in surprise before wrapping your arms around his neck. “This I like,” You lean your head against his shoulder. 
When returning back to the safe house, you drew a bath, relaxing your aching limbs. He had climbed in behind you not too long after assuring everything was locked up and checked out. You’d fallen asleep, your head leaning against his shoulder. He’s raising a hand, the water slightly rippling, small drops plopping, and he’s pushing back some of your hair, his eyes sweeping across your face. You can feel him pressing a kiss against your forehead, but you were in too deep of a sleep to wake up. His grip is light as he lays his arms across you.  
*** 
When you’d been handed the gun for target practice, you were slightly reserved. He could see the apprehension all over your face. “What?” He’s asking as you look at it. “Nothing…I just…it’s…I know it’s more than just pulling the trigger,” He nods slowly, brows furrowing. “You shot one in HYDRA,” “Well yeah, that was different. It was a bit more life and death then,” He’s rearranging it in your hand, and you stare up at him. “It’s always life or death. You’ll be fine. You hold the gun. It doesn’t hold you. The safety is on. Aim for that tree,” You take a deep breath, aiming for the tree, and you wish you could say that it was just nerves causing your hand to shake, but it was much more than that.  
It was different when he was holding it. It was different when you had to use it. It’s not quite the same when you decided to fire a weapon. When you made the conscious decision to…kill. “I don’t want to,” You hand the gun back to him, shaking your head. “You need to. Take it,” He’s forcing it back in your hand, and you forcefully shove it back. “No. Can’t we do something else?” His eyes narrow at you, and he slips the gun on his hip. “What’s the problem?” You meet his curious gaze, but you’re not staring at him.  
The rain was cold, and your heart was racing. The heavy weapon in your hand seemed to pulse beneath your fingers as you slowly follow him down the street.  
There was anger coursing through you. So much anger and grief. It’s like a red haze covering your eyes. Your target was oblivious to you.  
Your hand didn’t shake when he rounded the corner. Your breathing was steady when he finally paused, turning around. His eyes had widened into fear. “Please don’t! I have a family!” And you didn’t? The family he slain? He didn’t even recognize you. The first round felt slow. It hit him in the leg, and he went down. The way he screamed…you just put another bullet in his abdomen. A blink, and his shoulder was bleeding. A press of the trigger and his heart stopped beating.  
Malen'kiy… malen'kiy… 
“Malen'kiy,” You blink a few times, shaking your head to clear it. “Sorry…” You shake your head. “I’ll do push-ups, squats, I’ll run miles…I…I don’t want to shoot…” 
*** 
Remembering things…weren’t the best of ideas.  
You felt like you couldn’t get any air into your lungs. You felt this sickness weaving it’s way through you. Followed by shame. Followed by guilt. It woke you from your sleep, jerking you awake, leaving you sputtering for breath. Your body knew he was there before you even fully gained the boundaries of what was around you. He was always there. You’re clambering over his body, fumbling your way into the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet before you were heaving into it, dropping to your knees. 
The heaving was mixed with sobbing. And you just couldn’t stop crying. Even after you emptied your stomach contents. Even as Bucky had followed you, trying to understand what was wrong. Even as you brushed your teeth…you couldn’t stop crying. He’d eventually got you to lay down, your head cradled on top of his arm while he combed through your hair with his fingers. He held you tight, softly murmuring to you. Kissing your cheek or the back of your head.  
You came face to face with your monster. Your guilt. Your pain. You came face to face with the person that HYDRA wanted.  
And like a ghost…his face reaches the deepest places of your mind.  
*** 
“Eat,” He says, the patience long gone from his voice. You open your mouth to tell him the same thing you’ve been telling him for the last two days. Except he’s interrupting you. “I don’t care if you’re not hungry. Eat,” He’s placing the breakfast in front of you, and you look down at it. He comes to sit in front of you, forcing your face up. “I’m worried about you,” Your eyes gloss over with tears, and you sigh, licking your lips. “I killed someone. Six years ago. I wasn’t home that night. I was upset. My family and I got into a fight…I went to work early…they were brought into the hospital that night. A friend of mine worked at the police department, and…he told me what happened. There was a suspect…and I wanted him dead. I got what I wanted. I bought a gun I didn’t know how to use. I followed a man I did not know. I cornered him…I killed him. I didn’t care if I was right or wrong,” 
Your head drops, and you stare at the floor, swiping a hand across your face. “Were you right?” He asks quietly, brushing a hand through your hair. “Does it matter?” You reply, looking up at him. He’s brushing a hand across your jaw, brushing his thumb across the smooth skin. “Not to me,”  
Caged In 
Talking sometimes made things better.  
His hand was warm over yours, his breathing steady, and he’s pressing on your finger, the bullet hitting the tree. Straight in the circle he’d drawn. The gunshot isn’t so loud with the ear plugs, but you could smell the gunpowder. He’s moving away from you, your cue to try next. You take in a calming breath, and only when you slowly exhale, almost running out of breath do you fire. You glance at him, and he’s looking to the tree. He’s tilting his head and you follow his line of sight. “Now that…I really do suck,” You can barely hear his grunt of agreement before he’s stepping next to you again. Showing you the ropes. How to aim. How to breathe. How to feel. You spent hours outside with him just aiming the weapon, using it without firing it.  
It took some time for you to be able to shoot in the general area of the target he’d created with the tree. It was progress. You felt more confident behind it, and you could feel a lot of confidence in yourself about a lot. You felt like you could take care of yourself. That you could somehow keep up with him.  
It was late when the two of you finally came in, and he was already making his way to the bathroom. You follow behind him, watching as he strode to the shower, cutting it on. You make your way into the bathroom, wrapping your arms around his waist. He places a hand over yours, squeezing. Turning to face you, he’s wrapping an arm around your waist, pulling you close, and you lose yourself in his gaze. He’s bending, dipping his head, his lips pressing against yours. As you’re wrapping your arms around his neck, he’s pulling away, his eyes narrowing as he was listening to something. “What?” You murmur curiously, searching his face. “Your feline friend wants to be let in,” He didn’t understand why you liked that cat so much. It was probably dirty and had no where to go, but you adored it. “Be right back! I’ll make sure it stays in the living room!” You’re pulling away from him, quickly making your way to the back door, unlocking it. You still had your jacket on, and even then, the burst of wind was chilly. Peering outside, you don’t see the cat, and you squint into the dark.
“Here kitty!” You call, grabbing he flashlight from your pocket. You step outside, letting the door close behind you. You can hear the cat fumbling around near the bottom of the house, mostly likely hiding under the small piece of wood that anchored out. “Here kitty kitty,” You kiss, bending down as you saw it, and you reach out your hand to coax it out. The hiss it lets out makes you retract your hand. It had never hissed at you before. “Oh come on,” You coo, reaching out again, retracting your hand as it swiped at you. Now, you come to a stand, wondering what had gotten into it. Common sense should tell you it’s a feral cat that probably gives two fucks about you. Still…it was just so cute. However, if this was where it wanted to be, you couldn’t force it. Turning around, your heart practically drops, and you’re screaming in fright at being startled. The man who you remembered greeting Bucky when the two of you arrived was standing there, and he’s grabbing your arms, shaking you slightly, saying something to you, the fear and frantic vocal pattern scaring you the more you looked at him. You pull yourself away from him, making a run for the back door. “Bucky!” The door was already opening before you got to it, and you’re running into him as he steps out, his posture already guarded. He’s grabbing you by the arms before pushing you behind him. They seem to talk to one another, and Bucky is apparently understanding what the man is saying, his responses just as quick and snappy. Urgent. He’s suddenly turning towards you, grabbing you by the arm before almost shoving you inside. “Pack your things. We’re leaving,” You don’t have time to ask questions, and he’s tossing you a bag to put your things in. “What’s going on?” You ask frantically, and he’s ignoring the question, placing things in the duffle bag he had. “Pack. I’ll explain later,” You start grabbing anything and everything you knew you had and couldn’t leave behind. 
The place was cleared out in less than five minutes, due to you having to choose between things. He’s coming towards you and taking your hand, leading you out the back door.   
*** 
Following this man out to another location was the plan at hand. At least that’s all you knew. It was freezing outside now, snow starting to fall. Your teeth kept chattering, and you were holding onto Bucky’s hand tightly. “A little further,” He soothes to you over the wind, and you keep your head hidden against his arm, shivering. “How m-m-uch?” You stutter, and he stops, quickly pulling off his jacket. “Put your arms in,” You’re ready to disagree, but he’s slipping it on over your coat. “I can take it,” He’s zipping it up to your neck, grabbing your hand again, tugging you forward. It was dark, and you couldn’t really see, only blindly following him as he guided you.
Eventually, and you can’t say how long, he was stopping before pulling you along inside somewhere. Your eyes hadn’t adjusted, and you looked around into the inky blackness. The man is cutting on a lantern, illuminating this small shack like place. It was incredibly small, but it would do until…whatever Bucky had planned. You stood off to the side, holding your trembling hands, watching as Bucky seemed to be looking for something. He’s turning to the man sharply, and you can only gasp as he’s jerking the man against the wall. He was quickly speaking in another language, pushing the man harder into the wall. “She will freeze to death in here,” He hisses, and you make your way to him, placing your hand along his arm. “She’s not like me,” You tug on his arm, your teeth involuntarily chattering. “S-stop it. I-I-I’ll be okay,” He’s looking down at you, his jaw tightening. He’s letting the man go, before jerking him close.
“Get what I asked you to have. It has to be ready in 6 hours so we can make port. If I hear nothing, I assume it’s done,” The man is swallowing heavily, holding out his hand, and Bucky is digging into the coat he’d placed over you, handing the man a thick roll of cash. “It will be done,” The man is leaving out the way the two you came in, and Bucky is closing the door, pushing against it. He easily pulls over a table, leaning it against the door. He’s taking a few breaths before turning to you. You make your way to him as if gravity was pulling you, and he wraps his arms around you. “It’s going to be even colder as the night goes on,” You nestle yourself into his embrace, shivering more. He’s kissing your head, moving the two of you towards the only reclining chair that sat in the room, bringing the lantern and setting it on the floor. He sits first after removing the gun off his back, pulling you into his lap with ease. You curl inward as you settle, focusing on breathing out slowly. “I’m scared. Are they here?” You whisper, and he holds you tighter. “It’s not HYDRA. They think I killed the king of Wakanda. He was in Vienna Austria,” You stare up at him in confusion.
“That’s impossible,” “But not illogical. It’s only a 7 and a half hour drive from here,” You frown, your lips pursing in confusion. “I don’t understand…you didn’t murder anyone…that’s not right,” He’s pressing your head back to his chest. “Stop talking. It’s going to be okay,” You lay against him, and the two of you sit silently for an hour at best, your body trembling every so often. You felt warmer but it was still so cold. His attention was on nothing in particular, his arms tight around you. You wiggle in his hold, and he’s loosening up, allowing you to turn a bit. His brows lower as you straddle him. “Now isn’t the time for…” You gently grasp his face, pressing a kiss to his lips. He hums lowly, kissing you back, his brows raising as you pull away. “When your heart races…your body temperature rises…kiss me,” He’s indulging in your soft request, cradling your face, fingers brushing across your cheek. You tilt your head, your lips brushing against his. Your nose brushes against his, and he pulls you closer, an arm coming around your waist. When you pull away to breathe, he’s pressing a kiss under your jaw. You nestle under his chin, keeping your hands between your bodies.  
“Bucky?” You whisper into the silence, your ear resting over his steady heart. “Go to sleep,” He murmurs, brushing a hand through your hair. “You don’t even know what I was going to say,” He’s chuckling, wrapping his arms around you.   
*** 
It was still cold six hours later, but your body was burning. Neither of you made it to port. They’d come out of no where, an ambush, soldiers aiming guns while Bucky held you firmly at his back. You were ready to follow whatever he did. It was shoot to kill. They had you both circled, and Bucky’s hand was flexing on the back of his vest. However, it would be too close and it would risk serious injury to you. They were yelling in German. The soldiers from Austria had come to collect on their bounty. Your hand was tightly squeezing his, and in a move faster than any of them could blink, he’s pulling his gun off his hip, making three shots, killing five out of the 15. He was just about to swivel you around knowing his front was clear, but then he came out of no where. The red, white, and blue shield. Captain America. He dropped beside you, holding his shield over you as shots rang out. He must’ve had a friend as a few more were taken out, and Bucky is using that to get you the hell out. He’s running with you, out in the opposite direction of where you were headed. Opposite of the port. He held your hand tightly, pulling you, and your feet stepped in line behind him.  
Your heart beats erratically in your chest, your ears swimming with the wind.  
Then something burned. The feeling caused you to stop in your tracks, and your hand is slipping from his. The snow flies around his feet as he comes to a halt, and you’re glancing at him in confusion, watching his gaze flicker from confusion to recognition, and then rage. Your knees are buckling, and he’s right beside you, catching you before you could drop to the ground. “I…I’m okay,” You assure breathlessly, clinging onto him. “Get up Malen'kiy. Come on,” He urges, and you grunt, placing your hand over your abdomen, your hand shaking as you pulled it back to see how badly you were bleeding.  
“I’m okay,” You whisper, swallowing. He’s nodding, gripping your hand again. He’s standing slowly, guarding you slightly, his attention flowing to the trees. He’s hesitant to move, unsure of where it came from and how to guard you. “Bucky…we need to keep going,” You urge, pressing against your stomach, your eyes closing in pain. “Stay behind me,” He’s urging, and as if he were like water, he’s pulling the sniper rifle off his back, aiming for the trees. You get behind him, following him as he slowly moved in a circle. You shake your head slightly to clear it, ignoring your body as it was trying to tell itself that shutting down was the most logical thing to do.  
Captain America is emerging from the trees, creating this barricade of some sort as he stands on the other side of you. “I’ve got you covered,” You wait with bated breath as Bucky is suddenly pausing, and you can hear his intake of breath before you hear nothing but the quiet zip of a bullet, and a harsh thumping in the distance. He’s easing the gun back in its sleeve before he’s turning, scooping you into his arms. You hold onto his neck, your nails slightly digging into his skin. “There’s an abandoned hospital a few miles out,”  
*** 
Blinking open your eyes, you find Bucky looking over you, his face contorted in worry. On the other side of you is not America’s hero, but its citizen. Steve Rogers. “We didn’t pull it out yet,” Your jackets were unzipped, and you reach your hand out. “Give me a mirror,” You murmur tiredly. One is being placed in your hand, and you maneuver it so you could see the bullet wound. You lean your head back on the metal gurney, looking at Bucky. “Take it out,” He doesn’t disagree, or agree, staring at you to be sure this was the right decision. “You’ll need some gauze, and I think you still have the first aid kit? There should be tweezers and some alcohol pads,” He’s nodding, brushing a hand over your head.  
“Isn’t that a little dangerous?” Steve is asking, and you look to him. “I think dangerous has left the building,” Bucky is easily returning with the items you requested from the duffle. While he’s setting up what he needs, you walk him through the process. “You don’t want to make an incision. Try not to poke tissue on your way down, and gently pull it out. I’m going to bleed a lot more than I have already, but that’s okay. Take the alcohol pads and press firmly,” You breathe, leaning back to stare at the ceiling. “I also don’t think it’s a good idea to tell you I’m having hallucinations, but I’ll tell you anyway,” You murmur, and Bucky is looking over your face sharply. “That’s not good,” Steve says, and your eyes flicker to his worried expression. “No. Seeing a doctor that has on a plague mask is not good. Give me your hand please,” You take his offered hand, looking back at Bucky. “He’s useful,” His lips are lifting despite his growing worry. You squeeze Steve’s hand tightly as Bucky does as directed, gritting your teeth as he dug for the bullet. Your eyes start to roll and droop as he’s pulling it out slowly. “That’s a lot of blood,” “Zatknis', poka ya ne ubil tebya,” Bucky snaps in annoyance. 
Your face is being guided, and you focus your attention on Bucky; you could feel Steve pressing down the alcohol pads and bandages. “Rest,” 
**** 
The two super soldiers were on opposite ends of the room, barricaded behind some equipment. Bucky was smoothing your hair back as you laid against him, your forehead covered in a thin sheen of sweat. “Do you remember me?” Steve is asking, and Bucky doesn’t look up from his careful evaluation of you. “I don’t care to remember you,” He murmurs honestly. The words are a pang to Steve’s heart, and he’s silent before speaking, “You’re my friend. My best friend,” Bucky lifts his eyes, his gaze narrowing. “I’m sorry to disappoint. I am no longer the friend you think I am,” Steve frowns, his blue eyes flickering to you as you laid still. “Your name is Bucky Barnes. You were born March 10, 1917. You were always getting me out of trouble, saving my scrawny ass from everything. We did everything together. You enlisted in the military first and you told me…” Steve is faltering in his speech of fumbling memories as Bucky stares at him with an indecipherable expression. “I know who you want me to be, but I will never be that friend to you,” Steve’s brows furrow and his frown deepens. “I can help fix you,” Bucky looks back down, his hand nudging your jacket apart, his eyes sweeping over the gauze. “She fixed me,” “How? By letting your memories just slip away? If she really cared for you or loved you even, she wouldn’t…” Steve stops talking at the dark look Bucky was giving him. His eyes were cold and narrowed. Steve slowly comes to a stand, and Bucky watches him sharply. “They’ll find us, and it’s kill on sight for you if you haven’t noticed. If I can’t fix you, let me save her. They don’t care about her, and she’ll get caught in the crossfire. You know this. I know this. She can’t survive out here much longer. It’s too cold and look where we are,” Bucky knew this. He had a plan, two really, one that’s already in motion, and the other…he knew how this would play. What Steve would say. What Steve would propose.  
*** 
There was this nagging beeping you knew all too well. It seeped through your brain, causing your eyes to flutter open, and there’s this blurry outline of a blonde individual. “Where is he?” You inquire, your voice rough with sleep, likely from the sedation. “Gone,” He murmurs softly, pulling up a chair to sit beside the bed. Raising your hand, it’s halted by the handcuff attached to your wrist. You look down, then back to the blue eyes staring at you. “Is this necessary?” You question. “Yes. You’re considered a flight risk. Be lucky it’s this and not in a glass cell or the raft,” Your brows lower before you look around at the bare hospital room. “Where did he go?” You question, turning to look at him. He’s ignoring your question, leaning forward slightly. “You’ve been here unconscious for a few days. Just about three. You care for him, don’t you?” You nod once. “Then you’re the only person that can get through to him. Help me find him. He needs to get his memories back. That isn’t Bucky. That’s the man HYDRA created. You have no idea what it’s like there,” 
This chuckle like scoff leaves you, and he looks slightly offended you find anything humorous regarding the situation. “I was there for a few weeks…I know what it’s like, and if it weren’t for Bucky, I’d be there or dead. That’s how we got here. Bucky and I have been in Romania for months and I can tell you now that he didn’t kill anyone,” As you’re speaking, he is pulling out a folder, and he lays it across your lap. Opening it, you see very familiar faces. “He killed them,” Your eyes sweep across the image. Blood spattered across the walls. Three dead bodies. Each taken out by a single blow. “To protect me. I got lost and I wandered a bit too far. They were going to kill me,” “I don’t see any weapons,” You used your free hand, closing the folder, looking at him. “You’re trying to find good in places and people that don’t have any. They didn’t need weapons. Their mouths were quite enough or did you miss the skin stuck between his teeth?” He’s pulling the folder close, picking up the picture, his eyes flickering across the image. “So are you saying Bucky isn’t good?” You stare at him for a moment, pursing your lips. “No. But it sounds like you’re calling him immoral,” He meets your curious gaze, blinking a few times in confusion. “Does he have morals?” He asks softly. “You have no understanding of how he works, do you? He’s not a senseless killer. Not anymore. His morals only exist if whatever it is, is worth capable of his compassion,”  
His stare is not as gripping as you would’ve imagined it. His eyes, only holding your attention for a moment before you were looking away. 
“You?” He questions.  
You shrug. “I think I’d be dead if he didn’t. I get that you’re trying to save your friend, but he doesn’t want to be saved. You can’t force him to. I got him a journal not too long after we got to Romania. He was using it to remember but I think after a while it just frustrated him. I don’t personally care about what you want. Call me selfish. If it works for him…it works for me. He doesn’t go snapping people’s necks. He didn’t kill a king. He just wants to be quiet somewhere. Without fighting or…being forced to do things he has no power or control, and remembering this person you want so badly…it could just break him. He’s already broken. Underneath the surface that is willing to kill you because you’re in his way or has something he wants…he’ll never be the man he was before or the man he was while in HYDRA. He wants to find this version of himself that he makes. Not what’s remembered,” 
You hold his gaze, and there are emotions flickering behind them. He looked sad. Then determined. Among other emotions you couldn’t discern. “So you won’t help me?” You stare at him a moment longer before shaking your head. “No,” He slowly comes to a stand, nodding. “Then I can’t help you. You’re under arrest for harboring the suspected murderer of King T'Chaka. As well as harboring the man for more than a dozen murders. In addition…you’re now the suspect of a murder investigation into the death of Julius Jacobson. Your rights will be read once in America,” He’s nodding his head towards the door, and a few soldiers emerge, and one of them help you sit up while the other unlocks your handcuff. Your hands are being placed in front of you, the cuffs snuggly tightening over your wrists as you’re guided to stand. “Walk me out Captain?” You ask, and he nods, dismissing the officers, and after slipping your feet into the boots at the bed, you’re being escorted out of the room and down a hall littered with soldiers.  
“You have time to change your mind,” He stresses. You just glance up at him, smiling. “I think that if he wanted to remember, the two of you would be…like brothers. I don’t want to change my mind. I’ve made my decision, and you should come to terms with his,” He’s frowning down at you, and he lays a hand at your back, escorting you outside. The sun was bright, and you squint as you see an SUV waiting under a carport. As the two of you are walking, surrounded by a few soldiers, you glance at him again. “You’re a good person. Just because you can’t do what you want for Bucky doesn’t mean you failed,” He still frowns, but nods slowly.  
You take in a breath as he leads you along, and you lift your hands to your face to shield the sun from your eyes. He’s opening the back door for you, guiding you in, his hand landing on the top of your head to keep you from hitting the top of the SUV. He’s buckling you in, pulling the strap tight. “Take care of him,” He’s murmuring to you, and you raise a brow. “I’m not stupid to believe he won’t come from you. When he does…take care of him,” He’s closing the door, and you sit back in the seat as the SUV is slowly pulling off.  
Your thoughts were on many things. Mainly of what was next. Where did that leave you? What did this make you now? Who did this make you? A fugitive? An enabler? Wanted? Immoral? Demoralizing? Weak? Strong? What did this make you?  
Or were you just a person…with a heart that will follow the person it cares for to the end because that’s what the heart does? Were you a person in love, willing to be selfish for your own desires?  
You couldn’t answer these questions.  
Nobody could really.  
You knew…and he knew… 
You were a fool. A fool in love. 
3 Years Later - New York City  
You were just blowing out the candle, your brow rising as the front door was opening. Bucky was walking in with a few bags in his hands, and you lean against the counter. He’s setting them down by the door, closing the door with his foot. “You’re late,” You murmur, watching him curiously. “Am I?” He asks, looking at his watch. “Mhm. By....two hours. You know, this restaurant is going to ban us at some point,” Sauntering over to him, you take some of the bags. “Hey, hey, that one is a gift, and you can’t see it,” A smile grows on your face, and you look at the few in your hand. “Which one?” You start to nose your way through some of them as you sat them back on the floor, and he’s snagging an arm around your waist, pulling you close to him. “Tak neterpeliva moya Lyubov',” He murmurs, and goes in for this kiss, but you turn your head, chuckling at his look of betrayal. You brush your fingers through his short hair, shaking your head. “You’re still late,” He’s dropping the rest of the bags, lifting you by the legs, his hands resting comfortably under your thighs, and you wrap your arms around his neck. 
“Blame Fury, but...I can make it up to you...” Your laughter is contagious as he presses apology kisses under your jaw, and you roll your eyes.  “Mmmm,” You hum, holding his head close, softly tugging on his hair. “Fine, but I request a spa day, on Fury’s dime no less, and you Mr., will be accompanying me to this restaurant one day even if it kills me,” He’s kissing you softly, his head tilting back as he breathes you in. “Vse, chto ty khochesh', detka,” He murmurs against your lips.  
MASTERLIST
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stuckonylove · 2 years
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Getting ready for date night
Tony: *looking at himself in the mirror* Okay now Harley spray me with a bit of cologne and Peter tell me I don't look fat
Harley: *sprays cologne*
Peter: Mr. Stark, you don't look fat
Tony: *self satisfied* Thank you!
Elsewhere
Steve: *looking at himself in the mirror*
Bucky: *sprays a pump of cologne*
Sam: you don't look fat
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cherry-shake · 1 year
Text
A buckynat OC
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Alyona (A-lona) Romanova-Barnes
Alias: Wolf Spider, Brown Recluse, Subject 3, Lonnie
Age: 18
Place of Birth: South Siberian Mountains
Parents: James Barnes, Natalia Romanov
Affiliations: Russia, Red Room (defunct), U.S. government
Abilities: super spy, super soldier, red room serum
Universe: Earth 616
Origin:
Alyona's creation start well before her time with the start of the Wolf Spider program by the Red Room. The Winter Soldier was used to train Constantin and was punished greatly when he failed. Dimitri Petrov was the scientist in charge and knew he would be next. Dimitri stole his unstable red room serum and gave it to his oldest son Sergei at 9 years old. The Winter Soldier killed both Dimitri and his wife leaving their two sons in care of the state. Sergei, much like the wolf-spider volunteer, was hostile and full of rage. Yet he was able to pull it together in order to get his doctorate.
The Russian Government became tired of the failures of the Red Room and largely stopped funding. However, they turned their interest to the young Sergei Ivanov (who changed his name in his youth). He proposed the idea of a soldier who was given no identity and knew nothing but Russia. It was a way to keep the Red Room in check and kill anymore subjects who went out of line. Of course, Sergei had his own plan in mind. Alyona's targets would be anyone associated with the Red Room.
Using D.N.A. from both Natasha Romanov and James Barnes, Sergei made several attempts to grow a child and eventually was successful. However, a girl was not pleasing to many funders. Alyona was dubbed subject 3 and was fed Russian propaganda from the moment she could breath. Isolated deep in the mountains of Siberia, Alyona was given no name, no parents, no background. She learned to talk from the history videos and Sergei barking orders. As soon as she could walk, she started training and had schooling by several child specialist one of them being Nikita Alexovna. Alyona started killing at a young age and was adept at hand-to-hand combat, espionage, and weapons. Her targets she was forced to kill were mainly red room survivors or retired government officials who approved the program. What Sergei did not plan for was Alyona's temper and stubbornness. She was often punished harshly by Sergei himself or left outside with nothing but her tanktop in the Siberian winter. After a particularly harsh beating, Nikita bandaged her wounds. This was one of her first kind memories.
Alyona was able to sneak into Sergei's private quarters with Nikita's key and read his files on her parents. She kept her head down and behaved herself. Soon she was on her first kill outside of the base. Her target was Katerina, a KGB agent and one of the founders of the Red Room. She wasn't able to pull the trigger and went on the run. Wanted by not only Sergei's guards but also the Russian government once they discovered their plan. She went into hiding deep in the forests at the edge of Moscow.
Hydra also heard of the opportunity to steal a Russian asset. Alyona was swarmed by Hydra agents that Captain America and Black Widow were tracking. Black Widow helped to guide her to cover. Sergei arrived with his personal soldiers. While fighting, Sergei yelled out "Laika". Alyona's main mission was started and immediately started to fight Bucky. He avoided her blows the best he could and was able to talk her down. Alyona was able to resist her programming albeit painfully. Natasha and Bucky were able to get her out before Russian forces came. Sergei was arrested by Russian forces after discovering his long list of government officials killed by Alyona. The officials still have a watch out for Alyona. Alyona was rendered unconscious and was unable to be awaken. SHIELD doctors discovered a chip in her neck that allowed them to control her, make her unconscious, and even had a kill switch. They were able to remove it safely leaving a small scar on the back of her neck. The relationship with her parents was rocky at first. She refused to trust Bucky until he showed her his red star. Bucky proceeded to train her and nickname her "Lonnie" and she got extremally close to her mom
Other Comic Tie-ins:
During the Siege of Asgard, Alyona watched her father be killed on T.V. and struggled while he was in the hospital.
The Breakup - When Leo kidnapped and brainwashed Natasha, he also targeted her daughter and wanted her to call him "dad". When Bucky left, Alyona was raised by Natasha and solely used the last name of Romanov. Natasha believed that Alyona was created from her DNA and a random red room donor. Bucky regularly called and checked on his daughter despite the face she often told her she hated him.
Captain America going Hydra: Alyona joined the army at 18 wanting to find herself and truing believing that her only point in life is to be a soldier. Once Captain America took over as a Hydra agent, Alyona abandoned the army not wanting to help Hydra and joined the underground. She spoke at her mother's funeral.
Afterwards: Alyona began her own vigilante work and really became her own person. Without Shield, the U.S. government hired Alyona and a few other military personnel to be trained to handle espionage and Hydra. This included working largely with the OFU along with Ian Rogers.
Natasha's revival: Alyona struggled to bond with her mom after she was cloned because she felt she wasn't real. When Natasha was brainwashed into her life with Stevie and James, Alyona was pulled in from a mission by her aunt Yelena and told the news. She was hesitant but agreed to let her be happy. After all, it’s been a rough few years. Albeit, she still felt hurt that she was not included in her mom’s perfect life. This was purposeful in the plan because Madame Hydra did want her daughter’s namesake to affect the brainwashing.
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threemarvelousthots · 2 years
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Steve Rogers x Reader
********************
Can a home be a person?
- Home is where you are loved wholly and unconditionally, without barriers, restrictions, judgments, or expectations.
He was home, his presence one that constantly enveloped you in warmth, comfort and peace. You wanted him, You wanted him to hold you in his arms one last time, to feel him kiss the skin of your cheeks, feel his hand hold yours as you walked aimlessly around town. To smell the scent of Mahogany and Amber as you danced, a dream you wished for every night.
********************
He leaned against the doorframe, the record player filling the room with a soft familiar tune, the windows open and blinds pulled to the side allowing the fresh breeze of the summer air filter throughout the room. The smell of cinnamon wafting from the kitchen signaling you had of course made your famous snickerdoodle cookies for dessert.
Your hips swayed slightly as you took each book off the shelf in front of you, surveying their quality, dusting off the shelves before placing them back in my particular order, as you hummed along to the music. Your mustard polka dot dress stood out perfectly against your hair that fell down your back in soft waves from having it pinned up during the day.
Moving on their own, his feet carried him closer to you, his hand softly moving to hold your waist, the warmth of his lips meeting the soft skin of your shoulder earning a content hum from low in your throat as you placed the book in your hand back in its rightful place.
His hand moved towards your arm, his fingers gliding towards yours softly the feeling of goosebumps forming on your skin beneath his fingers. Your eyes watched as his fingers intertwined with your own and he spun you around pulling your body to his chest, your hands still entwined.
“You get more and more beautiful every time I see you.“ He breathed, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead, the feeling of your eyes closing noticeable against his chin causing him to chuckle.
You melted in his arms as your bodies swayed intime with the music, your head laying against his chest and his resting gently on top of yours, his free hand moving slowly up and down your back. You had longed to have him here in your arms for as long as you could remember.
Your mind wandered, hypothetical situations dancing almost in time with your bodies. What could come of us, could one day we be dancing in this very room, the soft patter of little feet echo throughout the house? Or the click clack of a four legged friend.. or maybe both. The endless amount of possibilities for the two of us now becoming our reality.
It was finally just two.. You and Steve Rogers.
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phant0mspades · 1 year
Audio
MSW36/ACC#998255
Audio clip from the fourth neurology session with MATTHEW WALSH. Subject continues to resist, further treatment required along with a review of prescriptions.
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stevedigsbucky · 2 years
Photo
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jakelcckley · 2 years
Note
Sebastian Stan is just a bland white man, he doesn’t compare to Oscar. I wouldn’t be able to pick him out of a crowd of other ugly white men. Keep him out of Oscar’s tags // just bitter and embarrassing that neither oscar nor seb would give a second glance towards your ugly ass 😂 loved your reply op!
LMAO i did a double take on your message,, thank you lovely anon! Maybe the sender of this message just woke up on the wrong side of bed and the first thing she saw upon scrolling was my post then decided to slander the hell out of sebastian 😭.
With that, here's another moon knight and winter soldier edit that i found especially for you 🫶🏼. I hope you are having a good day (or night wherever you are)
@/onxlysstan on tiktok // link to edit
we are a simp over masked characters lmao
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tinaxpow · 16 days
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Sam @furious_shan (insta) Karli - me
📸 @mathiasfrisch.cosphoto (insta)
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bitchysoulwasteland · 4 months
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No one but you.
Bucky Barnes X Vamp!Reader
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A/n: my Queen obsession once again reveals itself, but, hey, I’m happy, so who cares?
You and Bucky had known each other back in the 1970s when you had been the front woman of Queen. Back then, of course, he was the Winter Soldier and you were an unknown singer when you met in 1968 with a struggling band desperate to find a frontman and a bassist. It was just you, Roger Taylor and Brian May back then. You were all still college students in your final year in the band ‘Smile’, which was before Freddie’s flamboyant changing of the band’s name.
You had met the Winter Solder at a pub in London. You had brought him a drink after you saw him outside, looking physically beaten up. From then, he hung out with you and the band. He had been there when Freddie and Deacy joined. When you had recorded your first song. When you had left Trident Studios and joined EMI.
But, he then disappeared. He was gone without a trace which left a gaping hole of longing within your soul itself.
This was when your songs started to be discarded from albums. They began to not even be recorded. You had lost your muse, seemingly your reason for life itself. The lads in the band noticed this before anyone else did.
It was a few years of heartbreak before everyone lost you. More than metaphorically, of course.
It was 1975 when you disappeared. You wrote a note to the band, apologising for your absence, resigned from the contract with EMI and moved to America.
You had given up with your life, so you were pray to those who would try to harm you. You were vulnerable and loved a good alcoholic drink, so it was easy for the sod that turned you into a vampire to do so. You didn’t really remember it, but you did know that you had been fending for yourself since then.
The only good thing to come of it, was that you no longer had to worry about how your soldier left you. You didn’t have to. You pushed it to the back of your mind and tried to forget about it.
You had your mansion, your alcohol and your memories of Queen to get you through. You had also befriended a vampire called Damon Salvatore and another called Stefan Salvatore who lived a few roads away from you.
It got to the point where you were basically living in their place more than your own. You and Damon often got blackout drunk and would go around Mystic Falls just for the hell of it, which would then result in Stefan having to clear up your mess.
Present day: Mystic Falls
The Quinjet landed in a field beside a mansion. There had been a system failure, so Steve had to land it. The Avengers walked out of the jet, Bucky at the back. They walked to the door and Steve knocked on the oak.
Inside, you got up from the sofa and answered the door, somewhat shocked the Captain America was there.
“Win?” You said, seeing the soldier behind Steve.
“Y/n? You’re alive?”
“Un-bloody-fortunately, yeah. Come in, all of you.” You said, letting them in.
“I thought you’d died, doll.”
“I couldn’t do it after you left.”
“Do what?”
“Queen, life, any of it. I gave up. I wrote the lads a note before I left…. It hurt Win. It hurt so fucking much.” You said as Bucky wrapped his arms around you.
“I’m sorry, doll.” Bucky said, slightly tightening his embrace.
“It wasn’t your fault. With the whole Hydra and mind wipe thing I knew it would come eventually. Just maybe not so soon.”
A knock came from the door. “Y/n, I brought Jack Daniels.” It was Damon, there for the monthly drown your sorrows meeting you two would have.
“I guess you found someone else, huh doll?” Bucky said before letting go of you and walking into the living room as you answered the door, letting Damon in. You left the door open and vamp speeded to Bucky.
“It’s not like that, Win. It has never been like that. Not with him and not with anyone else, alright? And if you don’t believe me, you can ask him.”
Bucky looked you in your eyes. “You sure, doll?”
“There’s no one, Win. No one but you.”
Bucky smiled, embracing you once again. Damon stood in the doorway, happy that you had found Bucky again.
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crepuscularqueens · 6 months
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Winter Solder with Captain America's helmet
based on Germanic warrior with helmet by Osmar Schindler
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