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tarrynightss · 1 year

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𝒦ì𝓎𝑒𝓋𝒶𝓂𝑒, 𝓎𝒶𝓌𝓃𝑒..

Pairing: Tsu’tey x reader (gender not mentioned)

cw: Major character death, descriptions of a corpse, funeral preparations, grief

“Stop fuzzing.”

Tsu’tey tsked at you as you tried to wash the grime off of his arm, the stubborn man trying to pull away once again. “I can do it myself.”

He had been covered in mud from head to toe when he came back from his hunt, and you had instantly dragged him to the river before he had the chance to stomp it all over your hut.

You clicked your tongue at him. “Most men would be happy to have a woman wash them.”

He grumbled lowly at that, but didn’t deny it. The glare on his face as you scrubbed him down was unconvincing, his eyes always softening when he looked at you. He loved you and your caring nature despite how he sometimes pushed and pulled. It had been one of the main reasons why he had wanted you so desperately as his mate.

A smile had played on your lips as Tsu’tey continued to grumble under his breath while you wiped the rag past his skin. You could feel his muscles clench under your touch, could see his hands ball into fists by his side as he tried his best not to give in. Of course he did by the end, serious face finally cracking into a smile before he picked you up and threw you both into the river with a rumbling laugh.

You bring the wet cloth gently past your mate’s chest, revealing the dulling blue skin underneath the grime and blood. Tsu’tey doesn’t move, his eyes glossy as they stare up at the ceiling. You try to avoid his gaze as much as possible. You must not close his eyes - a Na’vi must be able to See.

There’s neither grumbling or laughing now at your administrations, the hut uncomfortably quiet. Your love is no longer.

You dip the cloth into the bowl next to you, the water clouding red, flakes and clumps floating around in it. Though he can no longer feel it, you make sure to be gentle when you wash his face, so many tiny cuts scattered across it. Your stomach twists as you see the grotesque swelling of his skin around his wounds and eyes, the skin discolored and blackening in places.

“Oh, Yawne,” you whimper, tears pricking at your eyes.

Your shaky fingers brush past his cold cheek. He must’ve been so scared, laying alone on the forest floor during his last moments. A sob leaves you as you imagine what it must’ve been like. Did he call for you? Was he even able to anymore? The shot had not instantly killed Tsu’tey, and neither had the fall. His ribs and the back of his skull had been broken, and one leg had laid at a crude angle when you found him. You imagined he could not even have called for help if he wanted to, his last moments no doubt filled with desperate gasps of air that would never come.

You press a kiss to his forehead as tears roll down your cheeks. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

You should’ve been by his side, should’ve defended him better. One second of distraction is all it had taken for you to lose him. What was this victory worth if you did not have him? It all feels empty, useless. But you know Tsu’tey would not want you to think like this.

With a shaky inhale you push yourself to continue preparing his body. There is not much time. His corpse will quickly expire and start to rot under the forest’s heat and humidity, and you want him to find peace with Eywa in a presentable way.

You wash every part of his body with care, sniffling softly as you look over your work. His front is clean now, but you know his back is still caked with blood. Bile burns your throat as you start to slowly attempt to move him, to turn him around. Tsu’tey deserves to look proper as he’s laid to rest, and though help had been offered, you knew he would want no other to see him like this.

With a grunt, you manage to turn his stiff body onto its side, holding him against you as you reach around to wash his back. He feels wrong, uncomfortable shivers running down your spine as his skin rests against yours. Though this is his body, he no longer feels like Tsu’tey.

It takes quite some scrubbing to get rid of all the blood on his back, Tsu’tey having laid in it for hours before anyone found him. When he’s clean you can see that the discoloration on his lower back is even worse and you have to try your hardest not to gag. You had helped to prepare clan members before, but this is different. This is the man you had made Tsaheylu with, who had held you night after night. To see him this way broke your heart into tinier pieces with every passing glance.

The back of his head had already been stitched and cleaned up by another, and so the only thing you do is try to readjust his hair the best you can.

When you are done, you lay him back down, a sad smile on your face. “There you go,” you whisper, another tear rolling down your cheek. “Looking so handsome, my muntxatan.”

He looks like a shadow of himself, and you try your hardest to picture him when he was still alive. That gorgeous, cocky smile of his on full display, his lips soft and warm instead of dried and cracked.

You attempt to wipe away your sadness as you stand up, moving over to where some of his clothes are laid out. You trail your fingers over the feathers of the shoulder piece that is usually reserved for an Olo'eyktan. He had only carried the title for a week or so, but in your eyes he deserved to meet Eywa as one.

You pick up a waistband with orange beads, turning your head slightly towards where Tsu’tey lays. “Your favorite.”

You dress him in a way that you are sure he would appreciate, and by the end, despite his swollen face and the wounds littering his body, he looks at peace and almost, almost, like himself.

Neytiri is the one who prepares you, the woman silent as she dresses you up in mourning garbs. Dull purples and blacks, your hair pulled back into two braids - not counting the one encasing your kuru - and woven into a bun at the back of your head decorated with magenta Tsawksyuls. Your friend is gentle as she draws onto your forehead with a dark paste that matches the rest of the purples, trying her best to make it resemble your mate’s forehead marking. Not only Eywa will carry him now, but so will you. For the rest of your days.

Your throat feels dry as you make your way to the Tree of Souls, but no tears are allowed to come. Normally Tsu’tey would’ve been buried near Hometree, but you refused to leave him to rot in a destroyed wasteland. This was the main point of your home now, and he deserved to be buried there more than anyone else.

It feels as if you are watching from up in the sky as Tsu’tey’s body is carried in by two of his closest brothers, an odd emptiness filling your body. Your clan is silent, many holding on to one another as they watch with saddened eyes.

Tsu’tey is gently placed down into the hole in the ground, and you look down at him. If you stare long enough, you can almost trick yourself into thinking that he’s just sleeping, laying on his side now and his open eyes barely visible. Perhaps, if you reach out a hand and brush some of the hair out of his face, he will rouse and his eyes will fill with warmth and love again.

Neytiri has to shake you gently by the shoulder for you to snap your gaze away from him, Mo’at to the side presenting you with a basket filled with flowers. Purples, blacks, oranges - as that color was his favorite. Slowly, you reach out to pick up some of them, casting them down onto your lover with shaky hands. You have to be the first, and now the rest of his loved ones will do the same. None of the people who pass by truly surprise you, that is, until Jake Sully steps up. His too small eyes glance at you guiltily as he lays a flower on Tsu’tey, mumbling a quick ‘Oel ngati kameie, tsmukan’. You have to bite your tongue. Though you know Jake is not truly responsible for his death, you cannot yet bring yourself to forgive the demon for ever stepping into your lives.

When everyone has passed by, you kneel down beside Tsu’tey’s grave, laying the last flower just below his chin. You lean in to kiss your lover for one final time, your nose softly nudging his cheek as you had done many times before to catch his attention.

“See you soon, my love,” you mumble against his cheek, a sob wrecking your body as you pull back from him.

Neytiri descends onto you to pull you against her, one hand on your head as she attempts to comfort you. Tears cloud your vision as you watch Mo’at start to chant, your heart beating in your chest like mad. This just all feels wrong and you wish you could pull Tsu’tey out of the cold ground. He doesn’t belong there.

This is not real. This is not real. The words continue playing in your mind like a prayer, but it does nothing to change the situation.

A flurry of woodsprites descends from the sky, the Tsahík reaching out to catch one on her hand. She continues her chants as she transfers it from her palm to Tsu’tey’s, ensuring that Eywa is present to take her child back into her arms. The rest of the People soon join in, their voices carrying into the forest.

You will your tears to stop just enough for you to join your clan members in their chants, your arms linking with Neytiri’s and Mo’at’s as she sits down. The light swaying of your bodies almost feels comforting as you pray to Eywa, pray to her to take Tsu’tey back into her, to have him join your ancestors. You have no doubt in your heart that she will, your mate always having been nothing but loyal to her and the People. He had lived for them, and died for them.

When it comes time to put the dirt over his body, you can no longer bring yourself to look, turning your head away. You don’t move from his side despite not watching, being there to lay a hand on his freshly covered grave when it’s done. As your fingers spread through the dirt you realize that you will never touch him again. You will never again feel his warmth, feel his strong arms around you. Though you will hear his laugh in memories and through Eywa, you will never again feel it rumbling through your body as he holds you.

‘He is with Eywa now, take comfort in that’ Is what Mo’at tells you, but despite your love for the Great Mother, it leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. You know she will take care of him and that he is happy now, but you could’ve given him that. You rest your forehead against his grave as you weep. He should’ve been with you.

@theseuscmander @forasgaard @xx-mayday-martyr-xx @nin3kyuu @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @maoare @lixiesbrowniess @justasimps-blog @callmejod @r3dc4ndy @ikranwings @jakesullyfatjuicypeen @avatarbyamara @puffieboba @mechformers

#tw: death #tw: dead body #tsu’tey x reader #tsu’tey #atwow #avatar #avatar the way of water #atwow x reader #avatar 2009 #avatar 2022 #tsu’tey x you #avatar x reader #avatar tsu'tey #angst #avatar 1 #avatar 2 #fic #avatar atwow

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verybadatwriting · 9 months

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The Winged One 2

Summary: Despite safely dropping off Bucky at the Allied base, you come back.

Warnings: Burned village, dead bodies, the bodies of dead parents, guns, injuries, curse word

Notes: Snake Worshipers = HYDRA. Honestly I’m surprised it only took me a little over a month to write this, I’m normally much slower.

Gn!reader

Word count: 4,736

Part 1

The days were a blur for Bucky. Fever from the infection mixed with days in the freezing wild had made him delirious. He vaguely remembered someone pulling him off the frozen ground and onto a cot in the medical tent.

After a few more disorienting days spent with the doctors crafting a new arm, and healing him from the infection, he was finally able to rejoin the Howling Commandos.

During dinner one night, Steve pulled him aside.

“Hey Buck,” He said. “How are you?”

“Still a little out of it.” Bucky shrugged.

“I’ve been meaning to ask, how did you even make it back here? It’s nearly eighty miles through rough terrain from the train tracks.”

“I…” He began, “I’m not entirely sure myself.” Bucky half-remembered an impossibly huge pair of wings and maybe a sled, but he was sure he had just hallucinated them. Well, mostly sure.

Seeing how truly confused Bucky was, Steve decided to drop the topic for now. After all, his friend had just gone through a very traumatizing time. It was normal for him to seem a bit off.

Bucky knows he’s being watched. He can feel someone’s eyes on him, but when he turns to look, all he sees is empty forest. He tries to shake off the feeling and returns to his first night back on watch duty. He can see his breath in the freezing air, and a chill runs down his spine. Readjusting his rifle, Bucky continued along the perimeter of the camp. With the snow falling on it, his metal arm seems to sparkle.

When he’s halfway around the camp – as close to the forest as he’d get – he sees something move in the shadows.

“Who’s there?” He asks while taking aim. His voice stays quiet, and he hears footsteps. Following them, he walks deeper into the woods. Suddenly, the sound disappears and he’s in a small clearing. Again, he feels someone watching him.

“Who’s there?” He asks, more forcefully this time.

“What is your name?” A voice from the trees asked. It sounded small and scared. Like a lost child.

“It’s Bucky.” He said, slightly lowering his rifle. “I won’t hurt you. Do I know you?”

Wordlessly you slipped from the shadowy trees above him. He turned, and after a moment, recognition seemed to dawn on him.

“Y/n?” He asked.

“The one and only.”

“I… I thought I made that up.” He said, “I thought I was just delirious and seeing things, but no. You’re real.”

“Of course I am,” You laughed, “Are you okay? I see you’ve got yourself a shiny new arm.”

“Mhm. It took them hours to attach this thing, but it works surprisingly well and they got the whole infection under control within a few days.”

“That’s good to hear,” You smiled, “Anyway, that’s only part of why I’m here. The Snake Worshipers have been preparing for something. Countless HYDRA trains go roaring over my valley every day. It’s gotten so bad I can barely sleep.”

“That can’t be good. If you give me a second I can write this down.” He fidgeted with one of his pockets, and pulled out a piece of paper and a pen. Your eyes widened at the paper, and Bucky remembered how much you treasured the single scrap you had made into a map.

“You know,” He started, “If you keep telling me what the ‘Snake Worshipers’ are up to, then I could supply you with plenty of paper." You perked up, considered it for a second, then agreed.

You were about to leave for the night, since Bucky had written down all the intel you had to give, when you asked him one last thing.

“You haven’t told anyone about me, right? Not even Steve?”

“Yeah,” Bucky nodded, “None of them know you exist.”

“Good. Let’s keep it that way.”

“Why?” Bucky was taken aback.

“Although I trust you…” You trailed off, trying to find the right words, “There’s just so many people in that camp and I don’t know if they’re all good.”

“I know these guys,” He reassured you, “Nobody's gonna chase you away for having wings. It’s not like your village–”

“Hey!” You cut in, “There are good people in my village. Just a few nutjobs that would follow the Cleric to the end spoiled it all.”

“Okay,” He said, “Sorry, sorry, just please keep your voice down. They’ll hear us.”

“I’m sorry too.” You said, then looked to the sky. “Well, I want to get out of here before midnight, and that’s fast approaching.”

“And my shift ends then.”

“See you in three days?”

“Sounds like a deal.”

You started on the journey back home, flying so low you occasionally brushed the treetops. At noon you stopped to refill your waterskin in a freezing stream, but aside from that, the whole day was spent flying. It was a wondrous feeling, even though it was quite tiring. In a way, it was a lot like swimming. You were fully in control, every motion affected how you moved. The air rushed by you, icy.

You continued to meet with Bucky every few days. One day, when spring was still weeks away, you were flying home. As the first hints of evening came around, your valley came into view. Diving into it, you soared along the bottom. You saw something strange, slowed down, and grabbed on to a tree.

There was a large swath of fallen trees, right below the train tracks. You got closer, and saw it was caused by a few railcars. They seemed to have fallen not too long ago, as no snow had settled on them yet.

You launched off the tree, and glided to a tipped over railcar. It was made of a smooth dark metal only interrupted by the large door. With a considerable amount of effort, you managed to unlatch the bolt holding it closed and push it open. You slipped inside. The car was filled with crates. One had smashed open during the fall, and you examined its contents of strangely shaped guns.

You knew this was the type of thing Bucky needed to know about, so you carefully removed a piece of paper from your pocket, and started to sketch out one of the weapons. It had cylindrical barrels, a blue light on top, and a wire connecting the two. After that was finished, you looked at the outside of the crate. On the side there were symbols, but you couldn’t read what they said. Despite that, you copied them down onto your paper.

You looked around some more, and found a dead body. He was dressed in a HYDRA uniform, complete with the octopus-headed arm patch. It looked as though he’d been tossed around and killed by the fall, but that wasn’t the scariest part. If he was on the train, there must be others.

Rushing to put everything back in place, you quickly fled to the trees. From there, you simply watched the train. A few hours later, a team of no more than six trekked towards the fallen train.

They wore HYDRA uniforms, and carried huge canisters on their backs.

One went ahead to each train car, dousing it with a shimmering liquid. When he gave the all clear to the group, they opened the valves on their equipment and shot fire at the train.

Within moments it was up in flames burning ten feet tall. The fire didn’t stay put, embers were already jumping to the nearby trees. With the smoke clouding the sky behind you, you flew home, hoping against hope that the HYDRA men didn’t see you.

Watching the trees you hunted in for years go up in flames hurt. It was like a part of you was burning.

When you finally touched down at home, you looked back at the looming column of smoke. It was miles away, and still filled half the sky. Was it going to spread this far? You hoped not, but still wanted to be prepared for the worst.

You packed up your most important things (the papers from Bucky, the map, and some basic survival supplies) and kept them in a bag right by the door. Just in case the fire spread.

Days later, you arrived back at the clearing where you waited in the trees. Just before midnight, Bucky arrived.

“Hello!” You jumped down from the tree, landing right behind him.

“Jeez kid, do you always have to scare me like that?” He laughed.

“No, but I like to.” You still spoke to each other in the mixed up language made from English, a little German, and your native language. Both of you were much smoother with it now.

“I found something interesting,” You said, taking out the papers in your bag.

“Right to business, okay.” Bucky nodded.

“What does this say?” You tapped the letters you copied from the crate.

“Arnimhilation 99L Assault Weapon,” He said, “Where did you see this?”

“I found a train that fell from the tracks. There were tons of crates full of these.” You took the drawing you made out of your bag, and showed it to him. After a moment of staring at the paper, Bucky finally said something.

“How… How many of these were there?”

“I only checked one train car, but they were stacked floor to ceiling.” You tallied them up in your head, “There were about 200 crates.”

“With that number of 99L’s…” He trailed off.

“HYDRA… they came back,” You closed your eyes, trying not to remember the flames lapping up the forest that you called home, and took a steadying breath. “And they burned the entire train. There was nothing left of the weapons, just the empty metal shells of the train cars. I checked the day the flames died down.”

“If they can afford to send an entire trainload of them up in flames, then they must have countless…” The implications of that silently hung in the air.

“This wreck has brought more HYDRA agents into my valley. I don’t… I don’t know if I can go home. I don’t know if I’m going to come home to a burned hole in the ground! I don’t know if they’ll find me in the middle of the night and whisk me away. I- I’m scared.”

A tear slipped down your cheek, and Bucky pulled you in for a hug.

“It’s gonna be alright.” He said, “I won’t let that happen. You’re like family to me, and I protect my family, they’re the whole reason I’m out here.”

“Thank you.” It had been a long time since anyone hugged you, but this felt safe. He would do what your mother couldn’t, and protect you.

“... then we’ll cut them off when they come through the pass here.” Bucky pointed to a small break in the mountains on the map. His fellow Howling Commandos were crowded around a table, along with Agent Carter, Howard Stark, and a half-dozen assorted personnel.

“Any questions?” Bucky asked. A brief pause, then people started to filter out of the tent and towards the mess hall. As he was about to leave, Steve pulled him aside.

“Hey Buck,” He said, “Can we talk?”

“Of course.”

“Privately.” Steve eyed the few people still in the room. Bucky nodded, slipped out of the tent, and went to a secret spot behind the latrines. The smell kept most others away, but not these two. Steve and Bucky would meet there when they didn’t want to be overheard. Today was definitely one of those days.

A few moments later, Steve quietly joined Bucky.

“Is everything okay?” Bucky asked.

“That’s what I was gonna ask you,” He paused, “Among other things. You’ve been a little off since you got back, and you haven’t told anyone about it. Not even me. Did something happen out there?”

Bucky hesitated for a moment, maybe if he told Steve about you he’d understand and want to meet you. Then he remembered how fearful you had looked when he even suggested the idea of meeting someone new.

“No.” He said decisively, “Nothing happened. I mean, it was hellish, don’t get me wrong, but I’ve been trained well, and I got through it.”

“Okay,” nodded Steve, “You sure nobody helped you? You didn’t find an abandoned cabin, or a crate of supplies?”

“No.” He felt terrible lying to his closest friend, but it had to be done. He’d sworn to protect you, and he intended to keep his promise.

“Bucky,” Steve looked into his eyes, “I know you’re lying. I’ve known for a while. You were dropped off outside our medical tent wrapped in a hammock, too sick to even sit on your own. I was willing to let that slide. But now, in there,” He pointed back toward the tent where the briefing had taken place, “You magically know which pass HYDRA is planning on taking.”

“I-” But Bucky had no excuses. He wasn’t supposed to know that. How could he know that? You had intercepted a messenger bird, (which HYDRA used for medium range communication instead of radios, so as to avoid Allies overhearing them), made a copy, and took it to Bucky.

“Buck.” Steve said, “You’re a terrible liar. If you don’t tell me the truth before we leave for the mission, I’ll have to report you. I can’t risk lives to preserve our friendship.”

“I know.”

He’s different today. Agitated. On edge. There’s something gnawing at him from the inside. You were going to ask, then thought better of it. If he needed to tell you, he would. So instead of delving into it, you exchanged food and information.

“I’m afraid I haven’t got much to say.” You said, “Their formations all line up with the info we got from the bird. Do the Allies have a plan to utilize the information?”

“Yeah,” nodded Bucky, “We’re intercepting them after they come through the pass. Hopefully they won’t throw us any curveballs.”

“When do you leave?”

“Tomorrow afternoon.” A silence settled over the clearing, which was strange since you and Bucky usually had lively banter. You had just opened your mouth to speak, when you heard something. Someone breathing nearby. It wasn’t you or Bucky, and it wasn’t an animal.

There was a person hidden somewhere in the leaves, watching the two of you.

You slunk backwards into the forest, and bobbed your head towards the noise to warn Bucky. He turned to look. Almost immediately, the man watching you stepped out from the woods, his hand on the holster on his hip.

“Steve?” Bucky said.

“Bucky,” The other man, presumably Steve, said. They argued for many minutes. You could only make out a few words here and there, but from that and their tone you pieced together that Bucky was trying to convince Steve to put the gun down, while Steve demanded to know who Bucky had been talking to.

Things got more heated, and Steve took out his gun. Immediately, Bucky’s hands went into the air and he took a step back.

“Steve, you don’t need to do this.”

“How do I know you’re not selling Allied secrets?” Steve looked deeply betrayed, “Or setting us up for an ambush?”

“I promise I’m not.”

“I can’t just take your wor–” He abruptly stopped talking, and his jaw dropped.

Behind Bucky, you had stepped out of the shadows. Your wings glistened in the moonlight. Bucky dared a glance behind him, and saw you.

“Don’t hurt them.” He turned back to Steve, “Don’t hurt them, they’re just a kid.”

Wordlessly, Steve nodded and lowered his weapon. Then Bucky switched languages and spoke to you.

“Y/n, why didn’t you escape?”

“This man is threatening you. I could not leave you to face him alone.”

“He’s my friend.” Bucky replied. You raised an eyebrow at this.

“Friends do not threaten one another.”

“Yeah, well, these are strange times.”

“Hey!” Steve shouted, “Can we switch to English, please? Bucky, what the Hell is going on?”

Bucky nodded, and explained what had happened after his fall, you saving him, bringing him back to the Allies, and now spying on HYDRA for them.

“They’ve been giving me information on HYDRA movements in the area,” said Bucky, “And I’ve been giving them food and supplies in exchange.”

“Okay.” Steve said. By this time, his gun was holstered, and he was sitting on a stump across from you and Bucky. The log you were sitting on was freshly fallen, and you were running your fingers up and down the bark while the three of you talked. Bucky served as interpreter between you and Steve.

“How long have they been out here for?” Steve asked.

“Five years.” Bucky replied.

“All on their own?”

“They’re one tough cookie.”

Steve agreed to keep your existence secret, but he also made it clear that if you wanted to join them, you were more than welcome. He even said that after the war you could come to America with them. You declined the offer, and explained that in a few years you intended to go back to your home village.

“By then the Cleric should be dead.” You said, “He was old when I left, anyway.”

Steve nodded, “If you ever change your mind, my offer still stands.”

You tagged along from the shadows when the Howling Commandos went on missions, always watching them. When he learned of this, Bucky insisted you learn to shoot and that you carried a gun with you.

“I can’t have you in a battlefield without a weapon!”

“I always stay by the outskirts. So really, I’m not in the battle.”

On one mission, you were in a tree overlooking the battle, and Bucky was directly underneath it. Today he was tasked with being a sniper, so his entire focus was on the battle. Who had a clear shot on Steve? Was someone in that window?

He didn’t see the HYDRA agent sneaking up behind him, but you did. It felt like slow motion, the man noticed Bucky, drew his gun, and just as he was taking aim, you swooped in. The shot rang out, but the bullet simply glanced off your wings, ricocheting off into some poor tree.

Surprised at your sudden appearance, the HYDRA agent didn’t even see as Bucky appeared from behind you and shot him.

“Are you okay?” Was the first thing Bucky said.

“I think so,” You replied while your fingers traced over your wing, “Could you take a look?”

“There’s barely a mark,” He said, “Does this hurt?” He gently touched the spot the bullet had hit.

“No.” You shook your head.

“That’s incredible!” Bucky mused, more to himself than you. “If Stark could take a look at your wings, perhaps we could design some better armor…”

Ever since that day you’d been a bit bolder in battles, more willing to be in the midst of it, and more thankful that you’d learned to shoot.

The Commandos were familiar with you, since you followed them around, but none of them really knew you. Bucky introduced you to them one on one and you were able to tie together names and faces, but you didn't interact much. Instead, you focused on improving your English and your physical strength.

While you enjoyed following the Howling Commandos and being closer to Bucky, it meant you didn’t go home to sleep. Instead you strung up a hammock in the trees past the borders of the camp.

As you were packing up one morning, Bucky approached.

“There’s a burned patch up ahead,” He began, “And the trees are all dead.”

“Yes. It’s not uncommon for HYDRA to start wildfires for fun.” You said. “What’s the problem?”

“Their roots were the only thing holding the dirt in place. It’s too unstable to drive our trucks over. We can probably walk it without too much of an issue, but it’s huge. Since it’s so dangerous, do you wanna walk by me?”

“I’d be happy to.”

When you first saw the burned area, the contrast between the small buds just starting to appear on the trees behind you, and the crunchy charcoal swath of land in front of you was shocking. The last few living trees were singed on one side, and alive on the other.

As you trekked through the burned landscape with Bucky and his group, it felt oddly reminiscent of going hunting with your father. Even though you’d only known Bucky for a month or two, you couldn’t help but think of him in a fatherly manner.

At nightfall, the Howling Commandos stopped at a burned out village for the night. Since there were no trees standing to hang your hammock from, you reluctantly set it down at the edge of the campfire’s light near the others’. During the night you awoke, and couldn’t go back to sleep, so you stargazed.

Staring up at the stars, you did some mental calculations and came to a gut-wrenching realization. This was your village. You stood, and looked around. To your right was the slope leading to the stream, which meant that your house was just a few moments away.

Filled with fear you half-stumbled-half-flew to your family’s home. All you saw was a pile of rubble. You fell to your knees, but did not let yourself cry. Maybe they had escaped. Yes, your family had been warned and escaped, that must be it!

Digging through the ash, you found bodies. You uncovered two. Both wrapped around each other protectively. They were badly burnt and a little old, but you could tell who they were.

Your parents.

That’s where Bucky found you early the next morning. Kneeling in the ash of your family home, weeping over your parents. Wordlessly, he sat next to you. You leaned over and hugged him, wiping your tears on his shoulder.

“Do you want to bury them?” He asked.

You nodded. Bucky grabbed a shovel and started breaking through the icy ground near the house. He called over Steve to help him. When the two of them were done, you went to have one final look at your parents.

Your eyes drifted to a dark chain around your father’s neck. It was the necklace you had gifted him years ago.

“It’s been years since you’ve seen me.” You said, stifling a laugh, “Why do you still have this?”

You gently unhooked it from around his neck, and slipped it into your pocket. Steve and Bucky lifted your parents into their grave, and started filling it back in.

A few days later, when the mission was finally over, the Commandos returned to camp with you trailing along behind. As they all entered the base, you slipped away to the tallest tree you could find. Your legs ached from the long days of travel, so you flew to the highest branches. You found a nice one, where you could lean sideways on the tree trunk and overlook the camp on one side, and the forest on the other.

The sun started to set over the trees, and in its final rays you were able to pick out the metallic glint of Bucky’s arm approaching the camp’s exit. You watched as it came closer and closer to your tree, and eventually Bucky started climbing it. He pulled himself up not quite as high as you and unslung a pack from his shoulder. Opening it, he pulled out a tin. He removed the top off and offered it to you.

You reached down and took it. It was ham and lima beans. Raising an eyebrow, you looked at Bucky.

“Sorry,” He said, “It’s all they had today.”

You nodded and began eating.

“How’re you holding up?”

You shrugged in response.

“Don’t wanna talk about it?”

“Mmhm.”

“Alright.” Bucky nodded. “The view sure is great up here. You can see the trees are just starting to turn green, and the sky is beautiful.”

“Yeah.” You agreed, your voice wavering only a little. “This is the first real day of spring. On the walk back today, I saw a leaf.”

You smiled, remembering the days of your childhood.

“When someone found that first leaf, they’d go sprinting back to the village, tell all their friends, all their neighbors, and everyone would go out to see the leaf. The Cleric would declare a feast day, which was always stressful since we sometimes got less than an afternoon of notice, but it was always so much fun.

“It was traditional to give gifts to your father on this day. Little leaf themed things, rags, treats,” Your hand trailed to your pocket, “Jewelry.” Carefully, you took out the necklace that had graced your father’s neck. It was made of thin chain with a small teardrop-shaped bit of metal hanging off of it. It was stamped with the image of a leaf, impossibly tiny and intricate. You sat there for a moment longer, debating with yourself.

“Bucky,” You began, “There is another, much older, tradition that when a child’s parents die, their neighbors and friends all pitch in to raise them. I didn’t get that. My entire village–my whole people–has been wiped out.

“Will you take this necklace,” You held it up. “And be my father?”

He considered it for a moment, then smiled.

“Of course,” He said, but was cut off when you crashed into him, nearly suffocating him with a bone-crushing hug.

“Thank you.”

Later that night, Bucky brought you into camp, and went about getting you your own tent. You had tried to push back on this a little bit, but having your own personal space with protection from the elements did sound nice, so you went along with it.

When it was finally set up, you and Bucky sat inside your tent drinking some tea. It was furnished with a small cot, a table, two chairs, and a chest. You’d already stashed your few belongings inside it, and found some uniforms. You held one up. The shirt’s sleeves were way too long, and the pants were barely calf-length.

“They just grabbed whatever they had extra of,” laughed Bucky, “You don’t have to wear them if you don’t want to.”

“I might wear the pants,” You said, “In a different size, of course, but the shirts aren’t made right. See?” You pointed to the back, “There’s no space for my wings!”

The two of you laughed for a while, but when silence eventually fell, the tears silently welled up inside your eyes.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Bucky said when the first tear slipped down your cheek. Trying his best to calm you down, he crouched down next to your chair and said, “It’s okay, it’s okay. It’s okay to miss them.”

“It’s just so stupid!” You said, wiping at your tears, “I hadn’t even seen them in years, why is it making me so sad?”

“I don’t know.”

“And this necklace, too. Why does it hurt so much that he kept it?”

“It means they never forgot you.” Said Bucky. “Not when the Cleric chased you away, not during the harsh winter days, when they didn’t even know if you were alive.

“It hurts because they loved you. It hurts because you love them.”

That calmed you somewhat, and after a hug and some more tea you were able to get to sleep. In the morning, you wandered out to the mess hall, trying not to panic at all the people everywhere.

The man dishing out the morning’s stew–bean augmented with freshly caught rabbit–gave you a little bit of trouble for not being on the list. This almost escalated, since the men in line behind you were being held up, but Bucky stepped in and smoothed things over.

“Being a Howling Commando has its perks.” He said as you followed him to a table. The rest of the Commandos were there, all eating breakfast.

“Everyone?” Bucky cleared his throat, “You’ve all met Y/n before, right?” Heads nodded, and Bucky continued.

“They’ve decided to join the Howling Commandos. Please welcome our newest member.” He nudged Steve, “Steve. The pin?”

Reaching into his pocket, Steve pulled out a small pin and passed it to Bucky. It was of a small yellow wing.

“Just in case you had any doubts about belonging here,” Bucky said, “Our symbol is the wing of the SSR Eagle. You’ll fit right in.”

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#bucky x teen!reader #bucky x teen! reader #marvel #writing #stevexteen!reader #steve x teen!reader #bucky x reader #howling commandos #howling commandos x reader #tw: paternal death #tw: death #tw: dead body #tw: fire

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