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mercurybarnes · 3 years

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Autopilot | B.B.

Autopilot (n.) Functioning in an unthinking or reflexive manner.

pairing | tfatws!bucky barnes/fem!reader [post tfatws]

summary | You and Bucky had been run ragged for months hunting down super soldiers and dealing with a farcical new Captain. Things began to finally calm down, boring routines and all. Until they’re not.

wordcount | 1.3k

warnings | kidnapping, talk of therapy/nightmares (is that a warning?) The Great British Bake Off :)

notes | this’ll either be a two or three parter, honestly i have no idea yet so bear with me pls. (also note that this is not beta read, all mistakes are my own)

navigation | masterlist

(gif from this post by buckybarnesj)

The days just started to blend together.

Nothing new seemed to change, and living with your super soldier, ex-assassin, centenarian boyfriend, it was rather surprising that your days were so mundane.

But again, things just… happened as they always did. A shout jolted you awake (or, it used to jolt you awake, it’s more like an alarm at this point) and you found the space beside you in bed empty and cold, as per usual. Stretching and standing from the mattress, you opened the bedroom door to find Bucky laid on a blanket on the floor of the living room, thrashing and whimpering in his sleep while murmuring unintelligible words in Russian.

With a soft sigh, you sank down onto the hardwood beside him, gentle tapping of your fingers on his chest to ease him awake. And he did, sitting up in a colt sweat, panting and huffing as though he’d ran a marathon — minus the super serum, of course — sweeping his eyes across the room, assessing where he was before laying back with a heavy exhale.

It was typical. Standard. Your daily routine.

Neither of you spoke as Bucky wrapped his arms around you, tugging you close to his chest and holding back his tears, swallowing the lump in his throat.

The first time you’d found Bucky wearing his arm to bed again was four months ago. The sight had broken your heart, seeing him laid on the bed with sweat drenching his brow, his dog tags warm on his neck with his left arm laid perfectly straight down his side. He’d gotten so good with his nightmares, to the point that he flat-out refused to wear that ‘metal monstrosity’ to bed when he didn’t wake up at odd hours thinking he was about to kill someone again.

But then things became boring.

Business with Sam had concluded, a new well-suited Captain America was found in your friend, and no missions needed to be taken on. It was then that Bucky had the time to overthink, and with his overthinking, the nightmares came back full-force.

He hadn’t gone back to see Christina after dropping off his completed book of amends, and you had a sense that, while she may not have been great, she was better than no therapy at all. Which was why you’d begun looking at reviews for licensed therapists that dealt with PTSD and veterans.

As soon as Bucky had found your laptop sliding off your lap when you fell asleep on the couch, six tabs open of different doctors, he became a ball of rage and indignation. He didn’t need to see another therapist, he did what he had to do!

It became a huge fight that broke your routine for a week… before Bucky relented that, y’know what, maybe you were right. Maybe. He wouldn’t give you the satisfaction of hearing him say you were entirely correct, even though you already knew that’s what he thought.

Then, with his name placed on a waiting list and after dealing with a lot of difficulties and confusion over his past actions, things had taken on a new normal. Your updated routine, a schedule that was as dull as it could be.

Somehow, it seemed that the tedious way things had been was… comforting, to Bucky. He seemed calmer, and slowly his nightmares had started to wean. Taking no chances, he still kept his arm on at night, and slept on the floor of the living room, but he was trying. You’d even managed to get him into bed at night before he eventually moved out of the room.

Routine. Rinse and repeat. Both your mind and body ran entirely on autopilot.

That broke quickly.

The one time that routine had broken was a month later, when Bucky had gone to meet with his new therapist, one that you’d managed to snatch up for him with high ratings, proper degrees, a kind demeanour and was actually affordable. You offered to accompany Bucky to his appointment, but he insisted that doing it on his own would be good for him.

So, staying home alone for the first time in… two months? Maybe three, you couldn’t really tell anymore, you heated up the leftover Thai that you two had ordered the night before, and sat yourself on the couch wrapped snugly in a blanket with The Great British Bake Off on the TV, just waiting for Bucky to get back.

Mary Berry had tried an amazing cake, one that you really wanted to try, just before you fell asleep with the carton of rice still in your hand.

Chaos ensued after that.

The lock on the door was broken silently, three men careful and cautious as they tiptoe into the apartment. One sneaks into the bedroom and attached bathroom, the other scouring through the kitchen, while the last covers your mouth with a cloth. The scent immediately has your eyes snapping open, the sight of yellow stained teeth meeting your blurred vision instead of the delicious cake you’d been pleasantly dreaming about.

“He’s not here,” one of the men exits the bedroom, speaking with a thick Russian accent. “Take her instead. We leave note.” With a nod of affirmation, the man holds the cloth to your nose firmer, and you hold your breath until you’re no longer able, forcing you to inhale the sickeningly sweet scent of chloroform before your vision completely blackens.

Bucky grins widely as he enters the apartment complex, taking the stairs two at a time while he digs his keys out of his pocket. The appointment had gone better than he could’ve ever expected, his new therapist — Dr. Rosa, a kind older woman who just barely reached his shoulder when she stood to shake his hand — had already helped him in the span of a single introductory session. He seriously has to thank you for getting it all set up for him.

But his joy fades quickly at the sight of his apartment door. Cracked open slightly with the lock blown off, bits of drywall and concrete crumbling onto the floor.

His left fist clenches tightly, his mind automatically shifting back into the Soldier. He has one sole mission — you. Make sure you’re alive and safe and that the door is just a simple misunderstanding.

He knows it isn’t.

He knew something bad had happened before he even opened the door, but as soon as he does and takes in the state of his home — your home, he’s positively seething. The kitchen, the one you spent hours organizing for him when you first moved in, had been turned upside down, with dishes shattered on the floor, baking trays and pans laid haphazardly across the counter, cupboards left open.

And in the living room, The Great British Bake Off still plays on the TV, Mary Berry wearing a grin just as bright as his had been as she speaks. A box of now cold fried rice dropped onto the floor beside the fluffy blanket that you insisted on buying ‘for movie nights on the couch’.

On the coffee table, a single slip of paper taunts him. Words he wished he’d never have to read adorn the page, his mind unable to fathom that his worst nightmare had become a reality.

One thing he knows for certain; you’re gone, taken by an organization that he only hoped were finally dead.

But as they always said, cut one head off…

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes #bucky barnes angst #tfatws bucky #tfatws #autopilot trilogy #***

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masterofmunson · 3 years

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look after you (3)

TFATWS Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: Sam asks you to join him and Bucky on a mission in Madripoor. When you get injured, Bucky feels the need to remind you more than once that he’s supposed to look after you now that Steve’s gone.

Warnings: sexual themes, language, typical marvel violence, blood, death, murder, just to be sure that i cover all the basis this is 18+. minors dni

Word Count: 5.1k+

Author’s Note: Hello!!!! I am really sorry that this part took me forever to post. The last month has kicked my ass but now everything’s a little calmer. As always, enjoy and tell me what you think! Comments, reblogs, and asks are encouraged and greatly appreciated.

When you return to Latvia nearly a day later, you’re more than eager to get back on your feet. Despite the overwhelming feeling of exhaustion running through your body, you’re glad to be back at it with Bucky and Sam. You’re somewhat rested, and you take the opportunity to visit one of the refugee camps to see if you could find any information on Donya Madani.

When you enter the camp, you try your best to keep a low profile. You don’t draw attention to yourselves and try not to ruffle any feathers.

“We should split up, cover more ground,” Zemo stated.

Bucky glares at him, shaking his head. “No. Absolutely not. You’ll just take off.”

You press a hand against Bucky’s shoulder. He looks over at you and you smile gently at him. “I’ll go with him,” you said.

His blue eyes stare into yours. It makes your heart race and your knees weak. Warmth spreads across your entire body. He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t need to. He knows you’re more than capable of taking care of yourself and keeping a watchful eye on Zemo. It’s why he doesn’t argue.

The four of you split in two and you and Zemo begin walking in the opposite direction. You’re on high alert, watching the refugees carefully. They don’t seem too concerned with your presence and avoid you entirely when you speak and attempt to approach them about Donya Madani. Although you tried connecting with them in the native language, no one wanted to talk.

You’re silent for the most part, taking in your surroundings. You walk past a makeshift classroom and the teacher and his students hurry away from you. This wasn’t what you hoped and wasn't successful. It started to piss you off.

“Have you and Sergeant Barnes been together for long?” Zemo asked, breaking the silence between the two of you.

Your brows pinch together and you stop in your tracks. Zemo turns to look at you expectantly. You take a careful breath. The last thing you need is for Zemo to get under your skin in a place where no one trusted you and away from Sam and Bucky. You begin walking again and Zemo falls into step beside you.

“Not that it’s any of your business,” you justified with a calm tone to your voice, “but we’re not together.”

You feel Zemo’s smirk beside you as he looks over at you. You grit your teeth and squeeze the inside of your palms harshly. You can’t react. You have to lay low. Do not cause a scene. Don’t bring unwarranted attention. Do not stand out.

“But you care deeply for one another, correct?”

That much was obvious. You’ve always cared for each other. At the beginning it was because of Steve. Anyone Steve loved and cared for, by extension, you did too. It was also how you felt towards Sam when you were introduced to one another.

But something changed along the way. You sought each other out. You relied on him as he did with you. You’d grown incredibly close prior to the blip, and if it hadn’t happened, maybe things would be different. Bucky would always be there to help Sam, regardless of the indifference he shows towards him. You’re tired of fighting. It’s all you’ve ever done. You can’t do it anymore.

Bucky feels the need to repent and right his wrongs even though he was tortured and brainwashed to commit such heinous acts. He won’t stop fighting. He needs to help, to protect, to be good for the world. It’s all he’s ever wanted and it had been taken from him for so long.

You nod in reply. You say nothing else. You weren’t about to spill your secrets to the man that brought Bucky incredible pain. He is not your friend and you don’t owe him anything.

Thankfully, Zemo says nothing and you eventually regroup in the courtyard of the camp. You’d come up with nothing valuable and neither had Sam and Bucky. You would be leaving empty handed.

You watch Zemo approach a young girl as you stand beside Bucky. You feel his gaze against the side of your face. You don’t say anything. You’re still reeling from your conversation with Zemo.

Your heart beat picks up and the stress you feel gathers on your shoulders. Bucky whispers your name and this time you turn to look at him.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

No, you wanted to say. He made your mind a jumbled mess. You couldn’t think clearly with him so close to you. He makes your body tingle with want and desire. You wanted James Buchanan Barnes to ruin you completely, if only for a night, consequences be damned.

You swallow the lump in your throat and push down the desire in your chest. The corners of your mouth twitch upwards in a soft smile. You nod, looking back over as Zemo rejoins the group.

“I’m fine,” you said with as much conviction as you could muster and take a step away from him.

Lie, you hissed to yourself. You’ve never lied so blatantly to Bucky before. It made your chest ache painfully.

What could you say? You make me feel like a fool. No one’s made me feel like a fool, not even Steve. But you didn’t want Steve. You didn’t desire him the way you do Bucky, dare you say loved him in the way you think you love Bucky.

Your mind races with imagination. The feeling of his hands on your waist. His lips pressed against the junction of your neck and shoulder. The contrast between his warm, calloused right hand and the coolness of his metal arm trailing along your body and pulling your clothes off.

You needed to get away from him, and fast. You can barely breathe with him beside you.

You’re the first to leave the camp and Sam, Bucky, and Zemo trail after you as they bicker at one another. Yet again, Zemo was one step ahead and holding the information hostage.

As you make your way back to the townhouse, you freeze in the middle of the street. The uniform is unmistakable. You’d seen it on posters, on television, and even on public buses. John Walker, the man you had no desire to meet, was approaching you with his buddy right beside him.

His voice thunders in the street, causing locals to stop what they’re doing to look at the new Captain America. He stops in front of you and looks you up and down. Just as you were sizing him up, he was doing the same to you.

“Is this the reason why you won’t return any of my messages? You’re too busy slumming it with Wilson and Barnes, as well as a known terrorist? I thought you knew better.” Walker asked.

You roll your eyes and cross your arms over your chest. “I’m on vacation,” you said like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Just so happens that Sam and Bucky are in town at the same time I am. Crazy coincidence, right?”

“Watch your mouth, Walker,” Bucky growled at the man.

John’s eyes narrow as he stares at you, ignoring Bucky completely. You’re being childish and petty but you don’t care. Walker is an asshole. His eyes challenge yours, but you square your shoulders and stare him down. He doesn’t scare you. You don’t answer to him.

“We’ll take it from here. Zemo is coming with us.”

“No, he’s not,” Sam said. “We have somewhere to be and Zemo is the only one who can take us there. This is the only time that we may be able to reason with Karli, she lost the person closest to her.”

You resume your trek up the street and the boys fall close behind you. Bucky’s quick to join your side and Walker runs ahead to stop you from moving any further. His gaze flickers between you, Sam, and Bucky. You roll your eyes and let out a scoff.

“You’re really going to let your partner do this, Bucky?” Walker asked him, looking between the two men.

Bucky and Walker bicker back and forth and you and Zemo slip between them when you notice the same girl he had spoken to earlier. You follow her quietly through a back door and slip inside the building. You watch Sam disappear around the corner and you lean against a metal beam in the boiler room. You pick at your nails and ignore Walker pacing the length of the room, looking over at Bucky every now and then as he guards the door.

Walker huffs impatiently and takes a step towards the door. You stand up and Bucky shoves Walker back. You swallow the lump in your throat as the two men stare at one another. At the mention of the serum in Bucky’s veins, rage runs through you. He didn’t ask to be the Winter Soldier. He didn’t ask for the serum. The serum had taken so much from him. It’s not something that he’s proud of.

“Don’t you dare say that,” you hissed at him, shoving him away from Bucky. You were so close to clocking him in the jaw. “You have no idea how much he has lost because of the serum.”

There’s a glint in his eyes and he looks between you and Bucky. “What are you, his guard dog?”

“I can say the same thing about Lemar.”

“We’ve waited around long enough. It’s time to go.”

He shoves himself past Bucky and Lemar does the same. You and Bucky run after them into the main room where Karli and Sam are. Her brown eyes widen in panic and betrayal as she looks from Sam back to John. Sam attempts to reason with her again and you run straight between them in an attempt to block John’s attack.

Karli’s super strength sends you and Sam flying into the nearby table and she takes off. Bucky runs after her and you scramble to your feet. You split off from Sam and back track into the boiler room. The handcuffs are empty and you curse loudly before racing down a flight of stairs. Your heart feels as if it’s beating out of your chest and the adrenaline rushes through you. The ache in your shoulder is the least of your concerns as you creep up to the basement door.

With a gun in one hand, you reach for the handle and twist the knob. It doesn’t budge under the pressure of your hand as you attempt to jiggle it open. The sound of gunfire rings through your ears on the other side of the door. You point the gun on the lock and fire until there’s a hole in the door. You shove your body against the door and it caves under your weight.

With your gun raised, you climb down the steps before relenting at the sight of Zemo unconscious on the floor with John looming over him. You tuck your gun in the back of your jeans and look over the room. Shattered glass vials are all over the floor and you glance at Walker suspiciously.

“What happened?” you asked.

“Zemo shot Karli and destroyed the vials that contained the serum,” he answered before turning his back on you and climbing up the stairs.

Sam and Bucky join you several minutes later. You stare up at them against a cold metal crate beside the unconscious Baron. Bucky crouches in front of you and looks at you carefully.

“You okay? What happened?” he asked.

You nod your head and tell them what supposedly happened while you were attempting to get to Zemo and John Walker before anything worse happened. It made you feel uneasy and you have a gut feeling that Walker was lying to you.

“Do you believe him?” Sam questioned, looking over at Zemo.

You shook your head. You run a hand through your hair and let out a sigh. “No. I don’t trust him. Something about the way he looked at the broken vials makes me nervous. I don’t think he was telling me the whole truth.”

Silence falls between the three of you before Sam speaks again. “Let’s get out of here. We’ll regroup back at the house.”

You nod and get back on your feet. Sam and Bucky pull Zemo from the floor and drag him out of the basement out of the camp to the main street. You return to the house and Zemo is placed on the nearest couch. Bucky disappears out the door once more and you join Sam at the kitchen counter. You fish around the liquor cabinet and pour two glasses of whiskey for you and Sam.

You take the time to shake off the stress and anxiety in your shoulders and enjoy the brief silence covering the room.

It doesn’t last long, and soon Zemo begins to stir back into consciousness. He groans loudly and grasps at his head. Sam wordlessly grabs an ice pack from the fridge and hands both the pack and the glass of whiskey over to him.

You sit down in one of the loveseats and kick your feet up on the coffee table. Within seconds, Zemo starts spewing his self righteous bullshit.

“Jesus Christ, do you ever shut up?” you snapped, downing the rest of your whiskey.

Sam smiles and a low chuckle from Zemo fills the room. You sigh softly and ignore him once more. Bucky returns several minutes later and practically rips off his leather jacket. It makes your cheeks flush and you watch him pour himself his own drink into a glass.

“There’s something wrong about Walker,” he said with a huff.

“You don’t say,” Sam replied with a smirk.

“Well, I know a crazy when I see one, because I am crazy.” He takes a sip of his whiskey.

You bark out a laugh and Sam does the same. “Can’t argue with that.”

There’s a beat of silence that falls over the room and Bucky sighs deeply. “You shouldn’t have given him the shield.”

You jump to your feet and step between the two men. Your hand presses against his chest. “You know he didn’t give the shield to him, Bucky.”

A flash of hurt and anger appears across his face. You had never been on the receiving end of his hurt and anger before. It makes your chest ache as you look at him. He takes a step away from you and glares. Your heart leaps inside your throat and you attempt to reach for him again. He pushes your hand away. He had never rejected you so blatantly before.

“How can you say that? After all that Steve’s done for you and you’re so casual and flippant about the shield! How dare you!” he yelled at you, his voice thundering off the walls and into your ears. It makes you wince and you’re fighting back tears.

“He’s gone!” you shouted back. “Why should I care about something that was left behind by someone who abandoned me!”

His eyes darken as he stares at you. He shakes his head in disbelief and a bitter laugh leaves his throat. “Sam should have never asked you to come.”

“Yeah, maybe you’re right, but I won’t abandon Sam the way that Steve abandoned me. I’m willing to sacrifice what needs to be done, even if it makes me unhappy. I’m not a coward. I don’t want to be here more than you do,” you hissed, your body filling with rage. “I’m more than happy to leave.”

“Good! Then go!”

“Fine!”

Just as you’re about to gather your things and storm out of the house, the doors burst open and John and Lemar storm inside. He points to Zemo and says, “He’s coming with us. Hand him over.”

Sam and John argue with one another and you step away from Bucky. You’re pissed and hurt and you have no energy to join their bitching contest. You cross your arms over your chest and just seconds pass before the Dora Milaje walk through the doors.

You watch with a smug smirk as Walker reaches a hand out to Ayo. You hold your breath as he places a hand on her shoulder. A split second passes and John and Lemar are both getting their asses kicked. You stand out of the way and gleam as they struggle against the Dora Milaje. One of the spears slices through the air and pins the shield against the kitchen table.

“Looking strong, John!” Bucky exclaimed.

If you weren’t pissed at him, you would’ve laughed. Sam says his name disapprovingly and Bucky rolls his eyes as he attempts to stop Ayo from doing anymore damage. Sam soon follows suit and you sigh before joining them.

You had spent several long months training alongside the Dora Milaje when you were on the run after the Accords. They had helped you perfect your technique and made you an ever better fighter. You block the jabs of the spear with the outside of your forearms and quickly side step out of the way as one of the women aims at your gut.

With all things considered, you were fairing far better than both Sam and Bucky combined, and you hadn’t been keeping up with your training regiment.

Another spear nearly sideswipes your face and your reflexes take over as you spin out of the way. You’re growing tired and out of breath, and they still haven't been able to get you to yield.

Soon you were overpowered and you fell on your back with a loud crash. The wind is knocked out of you and you see stars at the corners of your eyes. Your head turns towards the bathroom doors and you can see an outline of a sewage drain. Zemo had escaped in the middle of the fight.

John and Lemar are the first to leave, followed by the Dora Milaje. Bucky lends a hand down to you and you slap it away. You could be petty and angry too. You pretend not to notice the flash of hurt and surprise on his face as he adjusts to his metal arm again with a roll of his shoulder.

“You okay?” Sam asked you.

You grunt in response. “Fine.”

“Let’s go.”

You leave the house and trail behind Sam and Bucky as you walk down a number of streets with no particular destination. You’re silent and fuming as you listen to Sam talk on the phone. He stops up ahead and glances down at his phone.

“That was Sarah. Karli threatened my nephews. She wants to meet and said for me to come alone,” Sam said, staring at the coordinates on the screen.

“We’re coming with you,” Bucky said. There was no room for discussion and Sam didn’t argue.

You’re nearly out of breath when you arrive at the correct coordinates. You attempt to control your breathing as you creep up the stairs with Sam in front and Bucky behind. Sam yells for Karli and she steps in front of one of the white pillars. You stand beside Bucky just far enough that it doesn’t make it seem like you’re a threat. Her eyes flicker over to the two of you before returning to look back at Sam.

You shift nervously on your feet and the sound of Sharon’s voice rings through your ears. She had found John. Karli takes off and it takes a split second for Bucky to run after her. You cling to Sam and he takes off in the air.

“Brace yourself!” Sam shouted at you.

You cling to his back and use his shoulder for cover as he breaks through the glass ceiling. You shake off your legs and Sam squeezes your arm reassuringly.

Suddenly a body flies through the closest door and hits the wall with a crack. To your own horror, John walks up to the man, a man that has super soldier strength, like it’s nothing. It scares the shit out of you as you watch with wide eyes as Walker bends a steel pipe in half before sending the Flag Smasher to the ground once more.

You glance over at Sam and he’s just staring at John. “What did you do?”

You both know that you didn’t need him to answer to come to the right conclusion. Somehow John had managed to snag a vial of the serum. You were right back at the memorial. Something was wrong and it had been John all along. He had knocked out Zemo and stole the last vial before it could be destroyed.

You feel a sense of responsibility for it. If you had reacted quicker than you did down in the basement, maybe then Walker wouldn’t actually have the serum running through him. You could’ve stopped him and you didn’t, and it was all because of a locked door. You could hold your own against John without the serum, but now that he has it and he’s always so full of rage, you don’t know if you would be able to. He had the strength to kill you.

You follow the two men in a daze in an attempt to find Lemar. Everything was quiet and still. It sends you on edge. You step into an empty workshop. Tables are flipped on their sides, chairs everywhere, and scraps of paper and wood litter the floor.

Sam pushes you out of the way as a Flag Smasher jumps from the overhead balcony straight towards you. You stumble slightly before regaining your bearings and joining the fight. Your body screams in protest but you push through it. With every kick and punch finding its intended target, you’ve lived to see another second.

One of them kicks you in the backside, cornering you with another partner. The force of the kick nearly knocks the breath out of you. You shake it off and dodge a stab to the face. You quickly disarm the knife from your opponent and use their surprise to your advantage.

You may not have super serum in your blood, but you put up one hell of a fight. You easily avoided and stepped away as your attacker spins in the air. You wait for an opening and kick your leg up high, sending them backwards. You throw the knife down just inches from their head as a warning.

As you turn on your back, you quickly stumble as another opponent reaches to stab you. Bucky comes barreling in with an iron fist and the man goes flying and crashes into a nearby table. You have a split second to react as Bucky drags you back on your feet.

You don’t know how much longer you’d be able to fight, especially defensively. If any of the Flag Smashers noticed that you were favoring your left side more than your right, they would use it to their advantage and kill you. Your right shoulder throbs and you taste blood and sweat on your tongue.

You spin on your heels as you watch Karli barrel towards you, nearly taking your head off. You were tired, but you were still fast on your feet.

It feels like it happens in slow motion. Lemar miraculously appears and throws Karli off balance. For a brief moment, he was holding his own.

Until he wasn’t.

Karli punches him with so much force that the sound of the pillar cracking underneath his weight vibrates through your ears. Everything stops, even Karli and her followers stare at the man pinned against the pillar. A number of sounds and voices fill your ears as you watch John crouch beside his partner to try and find a pulse. He shakes his head but nothing happens. There’s no response.

Lemar’s gone. Lemar is dead.

Sam nearly drags you with him as John jumps out of the building at the closest window. Your legs burn, screaming for rest as you run alongside Bucky and Sam through the building towards the growing sounds of screaming in the courtyard.

Bucky stops you and grabs your hand, squeezing it tightly. There was nothing you could do but watch as John publicly executed someone with the shield. A shield that used to mean so much to the world was now and forever tainted. It’s legacy is gone.

The civilians that had gathered starred in complete awe with their phones out as they witnessed Captain America slaughter a man that wasn’t responsible for Lemar’s death.

He just stares off into the crowd, breathing hard and heavy as the blood from his victim stains the shield. He takes off, running away from the crowd, presumably to get away from Sam and Bucky.

You take a step, intending to run after him, but Sam stops you. “We’ll get him later. Right now we need to talk to the police and paramedics. If the countless videos aren’t enough proof of what John did was wrong, our statements will.”

You nod but don’t say anything as exhaustion takes over. Your knees buckle and Bucky nearly carries you to the nearest ambulance. A blanket is wrapped around you and you’re given a bottle of water. Bucky leans against the ambulance door and your eyes watch another team of paramedics take care of the body underneath the statue.

He’s placed on to a stretcher and a cloth is draped over his body to give the illusion of privacy, even in death, despite the number of people that watch.

A police officer approaches the ambulance you’re sitting in and asks if you’re ready to give a statement. You nod as you gulp down your water. You tell the officer everything that happened that led to the tragic event that followed just several minutes earlier. You leave out any mentions of the serum. The US government would find out soon enough.

The officer thanks you for your time as another one approaches to take Bucky’s official statement. His is nearly identical to yours, apart from the times that you had split up and separated over the last two hours. He’s gruff and fuming and his arms are crossed over his chest. If you weren’t still angry at him, you would tease him, but now wasn’t the time. The officer thanks him again before scurrying off.

Sam reappears and adjusts the gear on his arms before shaking his arms. “There’s a ping on Walker’s location. He’s at some abandoned warehouse in a wooded area in the outskirts of the city.”

You nod and slip the blanket off your back. Your exhaustion could wait. You jump from the ambulance and Bucky rests a hand on your shoulder. You quickly brush it off.

“You better think long and hard before you open your mouth, Barnes. If it’s anything other than “you’re coming with us,” keep it to yourself,” you snapped at him.

He stares at you with wide eyes and parted lips, and does exactly as you asked. He says nothing.

You walk in silence towards the outskirts of the city to John’s location. Your muscles burn with each step and you’re struggling to breathe, but you push through it. You have to for Sam and Bucky’s sake.

You hold your breath as you enter the warehouse. John’s back faces you and Sam throws an arm out in front of you to stop you from getting any closer. He turns to look at the three of you and you rock back on your heels.

“You don’t want to do this,” John said. His voice is casual and condescending.

Bucky rolls his shoulders. “Yeah, we do.”

The shield flies through the air just inches from your head. You double back as Bucky and Sam tag team against Walker.

Your eyes widen in horror at the sight and sound of Bucky crashing into one of the electrical beams. He remains still and it sends you into a panic. You’d never seen him like that before.

You run straight towards Walker. You use your weight and momentum to leap up and choke him with your thighs, a move Natasha had taught you all those years ago. His fingers dig into the tops of your thighs with all his strength. Your own hands are too busy scratching and squeezing at his throat.

Walker throws his back into a steel pole and it makes you lose your grip on him. The force of the impact sends you crumbling to the ground. Now it hurts to breathe.

You land with a loud crash. You’re in a daze and can barely see straight. Black specks and stars cover the corners of your eyes as you fight off unconsciousness.

John stands above you, his arm pulled back with the shield in hand. He was going to kill you, just like he did to the Flag Smasher, and there’s nothing you could do to stop him.

You’re too weak and injured to fight. You’re on the brink of physical exhaustion. You can’t mask the pain any longer. You’re going to die before you have the chance to tell Bucky how you feel.

You throw your hands up, a futile attempt to stop the shield from blowing your brains out.

Sam knocks John off balance just as the shield moves towards your head. Sam uses the strength of his wings and jet pack to kick John in the stomach while Bucky knocks him from behind. For the first time, John’s on the floor.

Sam and Bucky use all their combined strength to rip the shield from Walker’s grasp. There’s a loud crack that fills your ears and he howls in pain as his hand loosens around the shield.

He swings at Bucky with his uninjured arm and Bucky punches him right in the face. This time John doesn’t get up and Bucky grabs the shield and tosses it beside Sam’s head as he lays on the floor near you. Several silent seconds pass as the three of you catch your breath and attempt to regain your bearings.

Bucky crouches in front of you and gingerly threads his fingers through the hair at the back of your head. You’re not bleeding anywhere on the top of your head.

Although you couldn’t see straight, you know his deep blue eyes find yours. Your head spins and you feel like you’re about to puke.

“The shield,” you slurred, “did you get it?”

His soft laughter fills your ears. He wipes away the blood collecting under his nose. “Yes.”

You hum in approval and your vision begins to clear up. You blink rapidly and Bucky carefully wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you to your feet.

Yes, you were still mad at him, but the way he held you against his side as you walked out of the warehouse made your stomach flip. It nearly makes you forget about your argument just hours earlier.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #Bucky Barnes imagines #bucky x reader #bucky imagine #Bucky imagines #look after you #my writing

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olivemac · 3 years

Text

1300 miles | chapter four | b.b.

Summary | Bucky Barnes is adjusting to civilian life, living in Brooklyn, visiting Sam in Delacroix when he can, and trying to figure out what he wants. When he meets Jo Landry, the tattooed lead singer of a New Orleans-based band, he thinks he might have found the answer. Too bad they live 1300 miles apart.

Time Frame | post-TFATWS

Pairing | Bucky Barnes x fem!oc

Rating | explicit

Warnings | mentions of combat-related injuries, alcohol use, tattoos/body piercings, coarse language, gay male character, bisexual female character, recreational/medicinal drug use (weed), pet names (doll, pretty girl, Sarge), smut [f/m, mutual masturbation, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), PIV, slight dom!Bucky, praise kink, very slight somnophilia], minor angst, and all the romance tropes/fluff because I'm a sucker for it; more warnings to come; 18+ ONLY, minors DNI

Tags | @mrs--barnes

Citation | Vernon, Justin, Dessner, Aaron, Mitchell, Anaïs. “Latter Days.” How Long Do You Think It’s Gonna Last? Jagjaguwar/37do3d, 2021.

A/N | This only took 800 years to finish. Sorry for the wait. Hope it’s worth it. Xoxo

A/N, pt. 2 | Made some very minor edits to the previous chapters – nothing that changes storyline, etc.

series master list | AO3 link | full master list

🎶 1300 miles playlist 🎶

_____

previous chapter

_____

After breakfast, Bucky returns the borrowed motorcycle to Sam and grabs his backpack from Sarah's house. Sam only badgers him about if for a few minutes.

"So, you're abandoning us for Jo?" he asks Bucky teasingly.

Bucky grunts in reply. "It's not like that," he says.

“I get it,” Sam shrugs. “After eighty years, you’re finally getting some.” Bucky glares at him. “Just remember, bros before hoes,” Sam concludes, laughing and clapping Bucky on the back. Then he adds, "Don't tell Jo I said that."

Bucky's been debating how much he should reveal when he finally says, "I really like her, Sam."

Sam smiles. "Good," he says. "You deserve someone who makes you happy."

Bucky returns the smile.

"Come on," Sam says, "I've got errands to run in town. I'll drop you back at Jo's place." Bucky tosses his backpack into the bed of Sam's truck as Sam tells him, "Just remember, we promised AJ and Cass we'd take 'em out on the boat on Saturday morning."

"I'll be there," Bucky says.

_____

Bucky stays with Jo for the next two days, wearing sweats during the day while he lounges in her apartment – something he isn't used to, just lounging – and sitting alone at the end of the bar at night, watching her serve drinks with Danny.

They're inseparable for those 48 hours. There's an impending deadline – a sense that they need to fit everything they can into the next few days before Bucky returns to New York.

He slips out of her bedroom Thursday morning, still smiling from the night before, to find her practicing yoga in her living room. Bucky stops and leans against the wall to watch Jo move from one pose to the next, his eyes lingering on her hips and backside. When she moves into downward dog, she spots him from between her legs.

“Morning,” Jo says, sinking deeper into the pose and working to keep her feet flat against the mat. She notices the smirk on Bucky’s face. “Enjoying the view?” she asks.

His smirk only grows. "I am."

She walks her hands across the mat to meet her feet and stands. Before she can turn around, Bucky is behind her, his front pressed against her back and his hands on her hips.

"Best part of the twenty-first century," he says, "is skimpier clothing." His thumbs rub upward across the soft skin of her exposed belly until they're moving beneath the band of her sports bra.

Jo laughs and turns in his arms. "Not the medical or technological advancements?"

"Nope," Bucky says, "definitely this." He pops the band of her sports bra with his thumbs, then pulls her even closer, one hand sliding down her back.

"Breakfast?" she asks.

Bucky hums. "I'd rather eat something else," he says with a smirk, leaning down to press a kiss against her neck.

Jo laughs loudly. "No," she exclaims, "you can't expect sex after you say something so cringeworthy."

Regardless, she lets Bucky lower her to her yoga mat and hover over her prone body.

"You were saying?" he smirks against her lips before kissing her.

Jo hums and snakes her arms around Bucky's neck, pulling him closer. His lips move across her jaw and collarbone down to the tops of her breasts. Bucky pushes her sports bra up carefully to reveal her breasts before taking a nipple between his teeth. Jo scratches her short nails across his scalp and holds him to her chest. He worries his tongue over the hard peak and around the barbell ends on each side of her nipple.

“Bucky,” Jo sighs, arching her back.

Bucky smiles against the skin of her stomach as he kisses lower. He likes hearing his name on her lips. After not having control of himself for so long, he likes that he has this small amount of power over someone else, this ability to make Jo fall apart so easily.

He peels her leggings and underwear down and off before lowering his face between her thighs. He blows warm air across her cunt, making her tremble.

"Open your legs a little more," Bucky says, pressing his large hands against the inside of her thighs. "Good girl," he praises as her legs fall further apart. Jo sighs again as Bucky looks up at her. "You're beautiful like this, doll," he says. Then he licks a thick stripe across her folds.

Jo keens and her back arches off the mat. His tongue meets her clit as his hands grip her thighs, holding her open. Jo reaches down and cords her fingers through his thick hair, pulling slightly. Bucky moans against her cunt and continues to circle his tongue across her clit before sucking it between his lips. Jo rocks her hips against Bucky's face, and he reaches up to take her hips in his hands and guide her movements. She pulls his hair again, harder this time, and Bucky grunts. He alternates his movements against her clit until she's coming hard against his face.

"Bucky," Jo moans, her mouth falling open.

Bucky pulls back and slides up her body. When he kisses her, she can taste herself on his lips. She snakes her hand into his hair and holds him close against her mouth, kissing him deeper.

"Favorite meal," Bucky smirks when they finally break apart.

"That's it," Jo says, laughing and pushing at his shoulders, "leave. Get out. Go." She points to the door.

Bucky laughs. "You wouldn't," he says, with mock hurt in his voice, as his fingers tickle against her sides.

Jo squeals and squirms against his onslaught. "Fine, fine," she shrieks, laughing, "you can stay! But no more of that!"

"What? No more of this?" Bucky laughs. He rolls onto his back, pulling Jo on top of him to straddle his face, and rips another two orgasms from her before he finally releases her, helps her redress, and follows her to the kitchen to start breakfast.

_____

In the late afternoon, before the bar is set to open, Jo takes her guitar out onto the balcony to practice. After a while, Bucky sets down the book he was reading and joins her. He watches cars and pedestrians pass below them on the street while Jo plays a song with a sleepy pace and melancholy lyrics on lost innocence. Bucky thinks it sounds pretty in Jo's soft tone.

Stacked yourself against the odds

Talking back to an act of God

You and your clever mouth

You were laughing when the lights went out

When Jo finishes and sets her guitar aside, Bucky pulls her chair closer to his and leans in to kiss her, cupping both her cheeks softly in his hands.

"What was that for?" she asks, smiling.

Bucky shakes his head, then says, "Sam said you had a record deal."

"So, you and Sam were talking about me, were you?" she teases.

Bucky looks sheepish, but Jo just smiles.

“Yeah, I had a record deal. Years ago. In Nashville. Then Danny got hurt, and we didn’t know for a while if he was going to make it or have long-term complications or what. So, I came home. He got better. We bought the bar. I still get to do what I love, and I get to be with the people I love,” she shrugs.

Bucky can sense a "but" coming.

“But…Danny blames himself for me not following my dreams. When the truth is, even if he hadn’t gotten hurt, I would have come home. I had an ex tell me once that I'm only happy when I'm failing." She rolls her eyes.

"And now?" Bucky asks.

“I’m just waiting to fuck this up,” she whispers.

Bucky snorts. "If anyone is going to fuck this up, it'll be me, doll," he replies. "I'm a 107-year-old ex-assassin who can barely use a smart phone and hasn't dated in eighty years."

Jo cocks her head to the side and says, "We could fuck this up to together?"

Bucky smiles. "Deal." Then he kisses her, his hand cupping the back of her head and his tongue sweeping into her mouth.

_____

When things are slow at the bar on Thursday night, Jo grabs her guitar and plays an acoustic set for the small crowd of regulars. Bucky watches from his seat at the end of the bar top, nursing his beer. The thought that this is somehow all too good to be true, that he doesn't deserve Jo or any of this, creeps back into his mind. He takes another sip of beer and clenches his vibranium fist, willing the thought away. By the time Jo's eyes sweep the bar to meet his, the thought is gone.

He follows her up to her apartment after closing time, and when the door is locked behind them, he pushes her up against it, his arms on either side of her head, caging her in. He takes a moment to admire her, her green eyes shining with a mixture of amusement and lust. He leans down and nudges his nose against hers, his breath soft against her lips.

“You gonna be good for me, doll?” he whispers.

Jo nods.

“Say it,” Bucky says, his voice dark.

“Gonna be so good for you, Buck,” Jo whispers.

Bucky smashes his lips against hers, rough and demanding. Jo moans into Bucky's mouth. His kiss is all teeth and tongue, and his hands wander to her hips and down to her thighs to lift her into his arms. He doesn't stop kissing her until he has her on her bed.

Bucky presses hot kisses against Jo's neck, then tugs her faded Nirvana t-shirt up and over her head. The rest of their clothes follow quicky until they're both naked. Bucky kisses between the valley of her breasts and licks at the tattoo beneath her sternum before taking one nipple into his mouth. His flesh hand comes up to pluck at the other nipple, and Jo cries out. Bucky pulls his mouth from her breast with an obscene pop and scratches the stubble of his cheek across her tender flesh.

Jo's hands thread through Bucky's hair, and she tugs him back up to her mouth for a kiss.

"Thought you were gonna be good," Bucky mumbles against her mouth. Jo whines. She can feel him smirking.

His hand comes up to graze against her cheek, and he kisses her softly, taking his time now. He's demanding, but gentle, and Jo feels as if every inch of her heated skin is on fire. But she wants more.

"You can be rough with me, Sarge," she whispers.

"Yeah? You like it rough?" Bucky flips Jo over onto her stomach. "On your knees," he growls, pulling her hips up.

When she's on her knees in front of him, he uses his flesh hand to push her chest further into the mattress. His vibranium hand holds her hips in place as he slides into her without warning. Jo gasps and shudders.

“You look so good taking my cock like this,” Bucky praises. His grip on her hip tightens as he guides her back and forth over his cock before holding her still and slamming into her, setting a swift pace. Jo keens and her walls flutter around him.

"Harder," she gasps.

"What do you say?" Bucky warns through gritted teeth. His right hand moves upward to tangle into her hair, wrenching her head backwards.

Jo whines, "Please."

When he pulls himself almost completely from her body, then slams back in, Jo's eyes roll to the back of her head, and she sobs. She's consumed by the feel of him.

Bucky leans across Jo's back and whispers in her ear, “You’re doing so good, pretty girl.” His right hand slips down beneath her body to toy with her clit. "Fuck, you're so wet."

Jo cries out, and her body shakes. Bucky feels the way she tightens around him.

“I got you," he whispers against her ear, "I got you.” His soft tone clashes with his rough movements and makes Jo’s head spin.

Jo comes with a cry of his name, and it sends Bucky over the edge. His vibranium hand whirs as it clenches her hip, holding her still as he spills inside her with a low groan. He falls onto his side, pulling Jo with him and holding her tightly.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” he asks, his voice soft.

“Not at all,” Jo replies, squeezing his hand.

He presses gentle kisses against her shoulder until she slides from the bed to clean up. Then he slips into a dreamless sleep.

_____

Jo wakes Bucky up Friday morning with soft kisses across his jaw.

"Hmph," Bucky grunts, not ready to open his eyes.

"Danny and I are going for a run," Jo says. "Do you want to join us?"

Bucky cracks one eye open to look at her. "Why?"

"Because I like you, and I like spending time with you," she says, rolling her eyes.

The corner of Bucky's lip pulls up and he opens his other eye. "No," he says, "why are you going for a run?"

"Not everyone has the metabolism and stamina of a super soldier, Sarge," she says, poking him in the ribs. “Some of us need the exercise.”

"What's in it for me?" he asks.

Jo rolls her eyes again before answering. "You can run behind me and stare at my ass in tight leggings."

Bucky hums and slides his vibranium hand down Jo's back to cup her left buttock.

“How long do we have until this run?” he asks, letting his other hand trail up and down Jo’s right side.

“Half an hour,” she answers.

“Good,” Bucky says, rolling her onto her back and hovering over her as Jo laughs.

They end up being a few minutes late to meet Danny.

When they finally emerge from Jo’s apartment, Danny is standing at the bottom of the stairs with Greta. Jo reaches out and scratches the dog behind the ears.

“Morning,” Jo greets Danny.

Danny yawns before responding, “It is indeed.”

“Late night?” Jo asks.

Bucky doesn’t hear Danny’s response. He’s too caught up watching Greta sniff his vibranium hand. When she seems satisfied with her inspection, Bucky strokes the top of her head. There was a dog at the small farm where he stayed in Wakanda, and it was nice to have the company at night when his brain wouldn’t shut off and he kept reliving everything he had done as the Winter Soldier. He wonders if maybe he should get a dog. Or maybe a cat.

“Hey,” he hears Jo say from beside him.

He turns his head to find her watching him curiously.

“Where’d you go?” she asks. “Looked like you were stuck in your head.”

Bucky shakes his head and give her a reassuring smile. “I’m here,” he replies.

“Good,” Danny says, turning toward the door, “Because we’re not gonna take it easy on you on this run, Barnes.”

Bucky sees Jo roll her eyes and smirk behind Danny’s back.

“Oh yeah?” Bucky says. “How far are we running?”

Danny’s smirk mirrors Jo’s. “On Fridays, we run until we're hungry, and then we stop for beignets,” he says.

And that’s just what they do. They run three miles in the park before heading to a local cafe. Jo grabs a table for them on the patio while Danny pops inside to order after insisting on paying; Bucky joins him to help him carry their orders. Outside, Greta laps water from the cafe’s outdoor dog bowl, then curls up at Jo’s feet and waits for Danny to come back.

When Bucky and Danny join Jo at the table, their arms laden with plates of beignets and fruit and coffees in to-go cups, Bucky sits as close to Jo as he can. She's wearing an olive-colored sports bra and matching leggings, and she shivers in the cool early morning air. Bucky hesitates before shrugging out of his hoodie and handing it to her. Jo's smile and the sight of her dwarfed by his sweatshirt is worth exposing his arm in public.

Bucky's phone vibrates from the pocket of the hoodie Jo is now wearing. She pulls it out and hands it to him. It's a text from Sam: "Don't forget about Saturday morning."

Bucky responds, assuring Sam he'll be there, and sets his phone on the table next to his plate. Jo glances down and snorts.

"Why is Sam your phone background?" she laughs.

Bucky purses his lips. "He thought it was funny. And I haven't gotten around to changing it. I'm good with tech when it comes to covert missions, not," he holds the phone up, "this."

Jo laughs again and takes the phone from his hand. She holds it in front of his face to activate the facial recognition, and then opens the camera app and takes a picture of the two of them.

Danny reaches across the table for the phone. "Here," he says, and their breakfast shifts into a photoshoot that leaves them all in stitches from laughing so hard at their own antics. Even Greta gets pulled into some photos. At one point, Jo pulls a piece of hair from her ponytail across her upper lip like a mustache, and, for some unknown reason, Bucky suddenly thinks it's the funniest thing he's ever seen.

He probably has a hundred photos on his phone now, just from breakfast. He watches as Jo scrolls through them, and when he sees one of her laughing with her head thrown back, he says, "That one." Jo smiles and shows him how to set it as his background. Bucky takes his phone from her and looks at the picture again. It's perfect.

They're almost done with breakfast, and Bucky has forgotten about his bare arm when a teenage boy approaches their table.

"Hey man," the boy says to Bucky, "You're Sergeant Barnes, right? You work with Captain America? That's so cool, man," he says, barely taking a breath. His excited energy reminds Bucky of Peter Parker. "That shit with the Flag Smashers in New York," the kid continues, "that was crazy. You're, like, a real hero, man."

He moves closer to Bucky to snap a selfie, then holds his fist out, and Bucky knocks his own fist against it, hesitantly.

"Thanks," Bucky mumbles, not used to the praise.

"Tell Captain America it's cool he looks like me," the boy says, pointing to his skin, before heading inside the cafe.

Jo just smiles at Bucky, watching the blush creep down his neck, but Danny says, "You should start charging for pictures." Jo rolls her eyes, and Danny laughs. Bucky can see the similarities between the two of them, and for a moment, he misses his own sister.

"Ready to head out?" Danny asks, breaking Bucky from his thoughts.

"Yeah," Bucky says, standing, "yeah."

When they're two blocks from the bar, Jo slows down.

“My legs are sore. Carry me?” she pleads jokingly, and before she can argue that she was only kidding, Bucky's bending down in front of her and pulling her onto his back, guiding her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck. Jo laughs.

"You're going to spoil her," Danny says, but Bucky just smiles.

Inside her apartment, Jo pulls off Bucky's hoodie and returns it to him.

"Looked better on you," he says and kisses her gently. "I need to head back to Sarah's," Bucky continues. "Sam and I promised AJ and Cass we'd take them out on the boat tomorrow morning, bright and early."

"I'll drive you," Jo responds, and she's grabbing her keys before he can protest.

_____

Bucky returns to the bar on Saturday night with Sam in tow. Jo's band is playing, and the smile she gives him from the stage when he enters the bar makes up for Sam's constant teasing throughout the day. He likes watching her like this. She’s free, uninhibited, beautiful. Too good for me, he thinks. The thought has been creeping in more and more lately.

Later that night, after Sam has left and the bar has closed, Bucky lets Jo lead him up the stairs to her apartment and into her bedroom.

"Let me take care of you," she whispers, running her fingers beneath his t-shirt. Bucky nods and allows her to strip his clothes off before he helps her out of her own. Jo maps each scar on his body with her fingers and her mouth, and Bucky's heart swells at her tenderness.

She pushes him backward onto the bed and tries to take his cock in her mouth, but Bucky stops her. He's not ready to give up that control just yet, worried he won't be able to stop himself from being too rough with her. When she straddles his hips and sinks down on his cock, he holds her hips with his hands and guides her movements. He guides her own fingers to her clit and watches as she falls apart above him before flipping her onto her back and driving back into her. When he comes, it's with a shout of Jo's name, and he drops his head against her shoulder, panting.

As he holds her while she sleeps, the thought he's been having – that he doesn't deserve this – returns, and Bucky lays awake brooding.

When Jo wakes on Sunday morning, Bucky is gone.

_____

next chapter - coming soon

#bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #sergeant barnes #bucky barnes x oc #bucky x oc #bucky barnes x ofc #bucky x ofc #bucky fic #bucky barnes fic #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes romance #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fluff #bucky x original character #bucky x original female character

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ratonnhhaketon · 3 years

Text

Still Breathing

Read on Ao3 | Next Chapter

Summary: Six months after the defeat of Thanos, the world is still in chaos. The threat of the Flag Smashers combined with the new headstrong Captain America means it's time for Valencia Zicari to help save the world one more time. But, in doing so, she also has to pick up the pieces of a broken relationship.

Warnings: Major TFATWS spoilers, Swearing, Angst, Fluff, Slow-Burn, John Walker (just in general)

A/N: HHH, new fic time! TFATWS has been consuming my brain these past few weeks and it was only a matter of time before I made another oc and wrote for Bucky. I’ve had this in the works since the first episode but I’m super excited to finally be ready to start posting! This fic will be relatively short but I do also plan on doing a prequel fic eventually to further flush out my marvel oc, Valencia Zicari. I apologize that this starts off kinda slow, with just two phone calls at the beginning, but it will pick up a lot in the upcoming chapters. In the meantime if you have any questions or comments about the fic or Val’s story, don’t hesitate to send them my way! Hope you enjoy!

Chapter 1 - Your Number On Speed Dial

Bucky’s eyes shot open, his throat closing and lungs gasping for air. He felt the sweat covering his body, the thin blanket tangled between his legs. The cool metal of his dog tags swung against his chest as he sat up, chest heaving as he sucked in breaths and tried to regain his breathing. He looked around his surroundings, slowly calming down as he noticed he was in his apartment.

Another goddamn nightmare.

Realizing he was alone, Bucky instinctively reached up onto the chair next to him for his cellphone. He flipped open the phone, eyes squinting to adjust to the light of the small screen in front of him. He noticed the time, 3:08 am. While he knew that she would more than likely still be up and wouldn’t mind talking, he felt guilty for instinctively reaching out for her this late. Still, he let his hand press accept and after only two rings he heard her familiar voice pick up.

“Hi Buck,” she said with a smile, exhaustion evident in her voice.

“Hi,” he replied with a hoarse voice, sleep still clinging to his vocal chords. “Shouldn’t you be asleep?”

“I could ask you the same question,” she said with a small laugh. “But, yeah. Probably. I’ve been working my ass off trying to get in contact with Fury and nothing is working.”

“Not even through the SHIELD lines?”

She sighed, a hand coming up to rub at her temples. “I’ve tried, but he’s ‘on vacation’ and is only taking messages if they’re life or death.”

“I mean, shouldn’t he be able to make an exception for you? Given, y’know..”

“Unfortunately I lost the ‘you’re my adoptive daughter’ privilege when I decided to grow up and join the Avengers.” Bucky chuckled in response, his nightmare finally starting to fade from the back of his mind. “I’m just.. worried about Wanda. The whole situation still isn’t sitting right with me, especially since any information has been classified and no one at all can access it.”

“Val,” Bucky said quietly, his metal hand coming up to rub against the chain hanging around his neck. “When was the last time you took a break?”

He heard an audible sigh over the phone and a pause before she spoke up. “Not since half of the world disappeared.”

“Well, how about this. Thursday, you finally put all of that aside for a few hours and we can grab lunch. I’ll buy.”

She thought it over for a moment, Bucky’s breath hitching in his throat in the few seconds it took before she spoke up. “Yeah, that sounds nice. We can go to that sushi place you used to take me to.”

“Sounds perfect, doll. I’ll see you then. Now go get some rest.”

“You too, old man.”

~~~~~

Valencia stood in the common room of the compound, a scowl present on her face as she watched the tv. John Walker’s Good Morning America interview was playing at a low volume. She hadn’t even met the man yet and already hated him. Partly because of how he talked about Steve without knowing the first thing about him, and partly because every journalist in the state of New York had been contacting her in an attempt to interview her about the new Captain America. Pulling her eyes away from the screen, she noticed her phone vibrating to announce an incoming call. She answered, a smile tugging at her lips for the first time in the past day. “Hey Bucky.”

“Hi,” he said shortly. She could feel the anger in his voice. “Have you seen the news?”

“Absolutely,” she replied, her scowl returning to her face. “Everyone has been bothering me about it for the past day. I had to tell Pepper that if one more reporter asked to take a statement from me I’d throw someone out of a window.”

“Jeez. Little harsh, don’t ya think?”

“Probably,” she said with a small laugh.

“Hey, have you talked to Sam recently?”

“Yeah, I was just talking to him earlier before you called. He was telling me about having to go to Munich today, something about the Flag Smashers? I don’t know, he didn’t really give me a lot of information.”

“No, that's great. Thanks, doll. See you Thursday.”

“Alright, Buck. See you then.”

~~~~~

Any normal person would be astonished by the amount of trouble one person could get into in the span of 18 hours. But, in terms of being an Avenger, it’s just a normal Wednesday. Especially when it’s Sam and Bucky’s fault. But, Valencia still found a way to be freaking out when Pepper rushed into her room, shoving a phone into her face to announce that Bucky had a warrant out for his arrest. And had subsequently ended up in a Baltimore jail.

In under an hour she had flown down to the city and found the facility Bucky was being held in. She pulled open the door to the jail, eyes quickly scanning the crowd of people before landing on Bucky’s literal partner in crime.

She made a beeline straight for the dark haired man. “You want to explain to me what’s going on here, Sam Wilson?” Eyes narrowed, lips pulled into a tight line.

Upon seeing her he pushed himself out of his chair. “Val! How ya’ been? You been doing okay?”

“Oh cut the shit, Sam. You better have a good explanation for why I found out that Bucky not only had a warrant out for his arrest, but then ended up in a Baltimore jail leaving me to haul ass down here to figure out what in the hell is happening.”

“First, I need you to calm down. Promise me you won’t freak out?”

She glared at him. “Are you-”

“Val,” he said in a stern tone.

She let out a huff before nodding. “Alright, fine. I’m calm.”

“He helped me with that mission in Munich I told you about and then wanted to introduce me to someone in Baltimore. And he may have missed his therapy appointment in the process.”

“He missed-!” Val immediately yelled out, voice louder than anticipated, which drew the attention of the people around them. Sam put an arm around her shoulder and led the two of them over towards an unoccupied side of the room. “Sam, are you serious? He’s been doing so well! He put in so much effort to make sure he made the appointments and you let him go with you?”

“First of all, I told him repeatedly that I didn’t want him coming, but you know how stubborn he is.”

She let out a defeated sigh and dropped her hands to her sides. “So what do we do now?”

“Well lucky for you they’re actually releasing him.”

Before Val could reply she was cut off by the sound of heels clicking before a familiar voice spoke near them. “Sam. I’ve heard a lot about you.” She reached out to shake his hand. “I’m Dr. Raynor. I’m James’s therapist. It’s good to see you again, Valencia.”

Val gave her a smile. “Good to see you too, doc.”

“So nice to meet you. You two already know each other?”

“I took Bucky to the first few of his appointments to make sure that he would, y’know, actually go. But that was before..” she waved a hand in the air, “everything.”

Sam nodded. “Well thank you, Dr. Raynor, for getting him out.”

“Oh, that wasn’t me.”

From across the room a booming voice spoke up, instantly grabbing their attention. “Christina!” The three of them all turned in unison and were met with none other than the new Captain America himself, taking pictures with a bunch of fans. “It’s great to see you again.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me. You know him?” Sam spoke up with a frustrated sigh.

“Yeah, we did some field ops back in the day.”

“I heard you were working with Bucky, so I thought I’d step in.” Val watched as he approached the group, her arms instinctively crossing over her chest. “Miss Zicari, it’s nice to finally meet you. I’ve been trying to reach out for a formal introduction for several days now.”

“It’s Agent, actually. And unlike you I’ve had a lot of other pressing matters that required my attention.”

“Right. Well, anyway. Bucky’s not gonna be following a strict schedule any longer.”

“What?”

“We haven’t finished our work. Who authorized this?”

“Um,” John used both hands to gesture up towards himself. “He’s too valuable of an asset to have tied up.”

Val’s attention went from John to the sound of a metal door closing behind her. Her head turned towards the sound and she was met with none other than a familiar set of blue eyes side-eyeing the blonde man in front of her. She felt the corner of her mouth turn up in a half-smile as his head turned and saw hers. Almost instantly the token frown he wore at all times faded and turned into his own partial smile. She walked over to him, her arms finding their way around his neck subconsciously. “Hey, Buck,” she breathed as his arms wove around her middle, pulling their bodies flush together.

“Hey to you too,” he said with a small laugh. “Pepper finally let you leave the compound?”

She pulled away to look at him. “Less her letting me leave and more so her immediately getting me a flight and shoving me out the door when she found out you got arrested.”

“Alright lovebirds, break it up.” Dr. Raynor said from behind them. Val’s arms dropped to her side and before she had the chance to correct her, the woman spoke up again. “James, condition of your release, session now.” Bucky let out an audible groan, rolling his eyes slightly, to which Val couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle. “You too, Sam.”

“That’s okay, I’ll be out here with Val.”

“That wasn’t a request.”

She pulled her phone from the pocket of her leather jacket and noticed an incoming call. “Just go, I’ll be outside. I gotta take this anyway.” Val walked outside of the jailhouse, sliding a thumb across the screen to answer the call in the process. She partially paid attention to what Pepper was telling her as the new Captain America walked past her, obviously checking her out with a side-eye as she leaned against the chipped bricks. Her eyes narrowed at him as he turned to steal another glance her way before turning her eyes away and down the opposite side of the road.

“Yeah, he’s okay… no, I don’t know the specifics of how it works out with the pardon... I’ll keep you updated, but it doesn’t look like I’ll be back any time soon. I kinda feel like I’ll be joining the idiots on whatever they plan on doing next… Alright, I will. Keep me updated on the whole Westview situation and tell Morgan to stop stealing the snacks from my room. Oh, haha. Take care, Pepper.”

As she hung up the phone she saw the door next to her swing open with a visibly angry Sam walking out of it. Bucky trudged out a few seconds later, looking angry but more upset than the man in front of him. As the door started to close behind him he saw Val and walked over to her.

“Do you think Steve was wrong about me?” She could tell he was fighting back tears by the way his voice cracked at the end.

Her hands cupped his face. “Bucky, no, absolutely not. Why would you say that?”

He looked away, not able to look her in the eye. After all the nights they spent together, her talking him down from a nightmare, reassuring him and chasing the negative thoughts away, he couldn’t admit that part of him still felt that same way. “It.. doesn’t matter.”

“If it’s making you this upset, then yes it does.”

He let out a huff as her thumb began to lightly rub against the stubble on his cheek. “Sam shouldn’t have given up the shield.”

“I know, Buck, I know. But there’s nothing we can do now, so let’s just try to figure out what’s happening with..” she lifted a hand from his face and used it to make vague gestures around them. “Everything right now.”

The loud siren from a police cruiser halted their conversation, the sound making Val physically jump. She looked towards the source of the sound and scowled. This asshole again. “Gentlemen,” John’s eyes scanned Val’s figure quickly before adding, “and lady. Good to see you again.” Begrudgingly, she followed Sam and Bucky’s lead and walked towards the blonde haired man and his sidekick. “Look, if we divide ourselves we don’t stand a chance, you guys know that.”

Sam crossed his arms over his chest. “So what do you got?”

“Should she be hearing this?” John gestured to Val.

She scoffed. “I’m on board now, so out with it.”

“Alright. Well the leader’s name is Karli Morgenthau. We’ve been targeting civilians that have been helping Karli move from place to place. They geotagged a location, then scrambled the signal. But our satellites have found their symbol popping up in various displaced communities all across Central and Eastern Europe. We think that she's taking the medicine she just stole to one of these camps.”

“Well there’s been hundreds of those put up across the planet since The Blip,” Valencia interjected. “So I guess you’ll have to look real hard.”

“Good thing I have 20/20 vision, huh?” John shot back, annoyance prevalent in his voice.

“Where is she now, Walker? Do you know?” Bucky spoke up, patience quickly being stretched thin.

“No, we don’t know, Bucky,” Walker’s voice rose dramatically. “It’s only a matter of time before we find out.”

Bucky cocked his head to the side, eyes narrowing at the man in front of him. “Things are really tense for you, aren’t they Walker?” Val rested a gentle hand against Bucky’s chest, holding him back as a reminder not to do anything irrational- although she definitely wanted him to.

Sam approached the super soldier, putting a hand in the air to further make him back off. “Take it easy. Look, Walker’s right. It is imperative that we find them and stop them. But you guys have rules of engagement and all kinds of authorizations you have to get. We're free agents. We're more.. flexible. So it wouldn't make sense for us to work with you.”

The trio started to walk off before Walker stood up from the cruiser and spoke. “A word of advice, then.” The three of them turned to look at him once again. “Stay the hell out of my way.”

Knowing that it wasn’t worth it to get a final word in, Sam put a hand on either of their shoulders and pushed them to keep walking away. Once they were a reasonable distance down the street, Val turned to Bucky and noticed he was deep in thought. “What’s on your mind, Buck?” she asked with a hand coming up to rest on his shoulder.

“Well, I know what we have to do. When Isaiah said “my people”...” he trailed off, still staring ahead.

“Oh, don’t take that to heart. That’s not what he meant-” Sam tried to correct him before Bucky cut him off.

“No, he meant HYDRA.” He paused for a moment, feet coming to a stop as he looked between the pair next to him. “HYDRA used to be my people.”

“Bucky,” Val spoke up cautiously.”

Sam scoffed. “Not a chance.”

“Walker doesn’t have any leads.”

“I know where you’re going with this, no.”

“He knows all of HYDRA’s secrets. Don’t you remember Siberia.”

“Oh, you cannot be serious,” Val said as she dragged a tired hand over her face.

“So you’re just gonna sit in a room with this guy?”

Bucky hesitated for a moment, obviously not thinking about his idea that much ahead of time. “Y-yes.”

Val sighed, shaking her head slightly. “Out of all your ideas, this has got to be the dumbest.” She looked at Sam, who shrugged his shoulders and nodded. “Fine. Let’s go see Zemo.”

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enkelimagnus · 3 years

Text

Mezuzah

Bucky Barnes Gen, 1886 words, rated T for Hydra shit

Jewish Bucky Barnes, pre TFATWS, post Endgame

A month after his trial, Bucky Barnes gets a house and starts a slow process of reclaiming his identity and home from Hydra, more or less literally.

Read on AO3

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The house is quiet and empty when he opens the door. It’s eerie. He isn’t used to this kind of quiet. No one lives here. No one has lived here in a really long time. Perhaps since… he was a teenager.

It’s clean, it’s relatively well-equipped. It’s made for people who come in and out, almost like a hotel room. Everything is perfectly nondescript. Everything is calculated to be unremarkable.

The corridor ahead is painted off-white, the floor is hardwood. It’s simple. There is a stock photo of a bee and a flower hung on the wall. Bucky immediately hates it.

He can see some doors further forward, a staircase. All off-white paint, hardwood floor, ridiculously innocuous and impersonal frames on the walls.

He stands there for a long moment, with the keys in his right hand, staring inside at the empty corridor and the empty rooms and the emptiness. He doesn’t move. If anyone’s watching him, they probably think he’s crazy. They’re not wrong.

He exhales deeply.

This is his house now.

Up until and including three hours ago, it was a Hydra safehouse. It fell into the hands of the American government the day before, thanks to his activity as… Hydra-sniffing dog for the Secretary of Defense?

And now it’s… officially his house. He signed a paper he barely read to gain ownership of this place, because the Shiny in charge of him whom he can’t remember the fucking name of got orders to find him accomodation that wasn’t an army housing unit. His head is swimming.

The house was empty when they got there, earlier. Still filled with basic amenities, sheets on the beds in the three bedrooms, cans of food in the pantry, bodywash and shampoo and a first aid kit looking more like an ER’s supply cupboard than something used for everyday household nicks and cuts.

Oh, and two corpses in the basement, still chained to the chairs they’d been tortured on.

They’re gone now. Or at least Bucky hopes they are, because if someone decided to play this kind of joke on him… Who is he kidding? He’s not gonna hurt anyone, that would be… all shades of bad.

He thought they would try and put the house on the market. It’s nice, after all, a row house with red bricks and white paint, tall windows and a small staircase. He takes a step back and lets himself trace the edge of the door, the parts of the façade he can see. It doesn’t wear the marks of Hydra.

It wears… other marks.

His eyes catch on two marks on the right side of the doorpost, at about the height of his shoulder. Two holes, the kind of holes left by nails. One above the other, but not parallel. In diagonal. Tilting towards the inside of the house.

There was a mezuzah there.

Bucky walks into the house, towards the closest doorpost he can find. In the wall, on the right side, at about the height of his shoulder, there are two holes that confirm it. There were mezuzot.

There were Jews.

He feels everything go cold as ice inside of his chest. A pit opens in his stomach. This was a Jewish home. This was a Hydra safehouse.

He runs the fingers of his right hand over the holes. How long… Too long.

The last time he touched a mezuzah was on June 14th, 1943, when he walked out of his parents’ house for the very, very last time. It’s a few miles away now, or at least what’s left of it. He hasn’t visited. He doesn’t know the state of it. He doesn’t want to know.

Bucky takes a hard, hurt breath. This house was a Jewish home, and then a Hydra safehouse, and briefly, for a few minutes, it was a US government property. And now… now it’s his.

What the fuck is he supposed to do with this?

He has a house now. An empty house, with no one in it, and phantoms of inexcusable horrors and pains, echoes of the ones he saw in his community back in the day. Echoes of the ones he was around for the past… seventy fucking years.

What is he supposed to do with that?

Perhaps not leave the door open and your shit outside, Barnes.

Yeah. That would be a good start.

He walks back to the doorway and grabs his bag, pulling in his belongings. Some clothes, some toiletries, some meds, shit to take care of his arm. And one stupid postcard from that awful Smithsonian exhibit about Steve.

He shuts the door behind him, the noise echoes down the empty corridor and he sighs heavily. This… is going to be annoying.

The house seems to have been cleared of everything: the caches of money and weapons hidden behind walls, files and paperwork… Bodies. He’s never going into that fucking basement.

All he has to do now is… get settled, and wait for his next call. Perhaps the files will lead them to more safehouses, more Hydra cells waiting in the corners of the world.

It’s been ten years since Hydra revealed itself, a little less since its last leaders fell. But they’re still somehow… there. Acting on no one’s orders, following their own ideologies, usually nothing more than small white supremacist groups. Neo nazis.

Because the nazis, like Hydra, don’t seem to ever want to fucking die.

It’s 2023, and Bucky was really hoping he wouldn’t be still fighting the same fucking assholes.

Perhaps he’s stuck forever fighting the same enemy. Perhaps that’s his punishment for what he did. It feels almost mythological. Like Sisyphus pushing up that boulder, except it’s him punching Nazis into the ground with a metal arm.

Except he lives in a Hydra safehouse that used to be a Jewish home, and isn’t that fucking poetic? It’s not like he’s trying to reclaim his own identity from Hydra’s claws or anything.

Putting his things into cabinets doesn’t take long, and he ends up standing in the middle of the living room after a moment. There’s only one armchair and one chair, no table, a tv… And the open kitchen.

The outside of the house is nice, but the inside isn’t supposed to be the most pleasant, he guesses.

So… what next? Putting on tv and trying to get some shut-eye before his next call? It’s not late, only just past noon. There’s so much time ahead before he’s supposed to try to rest.

He sits down in the armchair, surveilling his surroundings. He needs weapons. He assumes the army took every single one they found. He has a couple of knives, but perhaps he should try and hide some guns around. Just in case.

He’d only just gotten used to the motel rooms they had him stay in. His trial was a month ago. And it’s been a month of back to back Hydra shit, interspersed with therapy sessions, and those motel rooms…

How is he supposed to know what a home is supposed to feel like? His place in Romania, when he was trying to piece his mind back together, had also been a safehouse, and he’d been a fugitive. That didn’t leave much space for interior design. The last home he had was his parents’ house. With the radio always on -- because Deborah would never turn it off -- with the smell of food, and his mother’s voice… With the bookcase filled with everyone’s siddurim and the chumashim, and the haggadot and all these beautiful, beautiful books. With the mezuzot on the doorposts.

Perhaps… perhaps it’s time this house gets to be a home again.

He’s not a good enough Jew for it. He’s barely a Jew at all. His dog tags are carved with P and not H, his magen david is long lost in the Italian mud, he’s spent the last seventy years scrubbed off anything Jewish about himself and acting as a Nazi gun.

But perhaps… this house has been desecrated too. It’s been robbed and sundered. And perhaps, he’s just the right Jew for this? Probably not. What he’s done can never be forgiven. What he’s done… who he is…

He closes his eyes for a moment. It can’t hurt, right?

He pulls himself up from the armchair, grabs his wallet and walks out. His left hand is hidden under his glove. No one will know.

He walks out of that house with the quiet promise that he’s coming back.

Bucky’s steps take him towards 13th Avenue, towards where the old shops used to be, back when he was a smart-mouthed kid.

Borough Park is even more Orthodox now, it seems. Hasidim, perhaps. He doesn’t know. His Hebrew school days are so fucking far from him, and trying to think about those kinds of details make headaches bloom under his skull.

He makes it to a store that looks small and mostly empty and takes a deep, deep shuddering breath.

It goes… fine. The cashier seems a little surprised, but he gets what he’s coming for. Six mezuzot cases and the scrolls to go with them. He has to buy the nails and the hammer to affix them, but… they rest heavy in the plastic bag he carries in his hand. They feel… heavier than they actually are.

The cashier slid him an extra piece of paper on the way out, with words in Hebrew on it. Except it’s been… seventy years and he can’t read Hebrew anymore.

He remembers there should be a specific blessing for affixing mezuzot, but again, his memories of the words are blurry and aching and he ends up googling it on his phone on the way home, once he has the nails and the hammer.

Once he’s standing at the doorpost with his hammer, nails and mezuzah, he stops.

One of his hands is metal and he… he doesn’t know how to feel about holding those precious objects with that hand. That hand of destruction and pain. So it’s either… he holds the case with the metal hand and hammers with the flesh one, or the other way around and he doesn’t know which one is right.

Probably neither.

This is never going to be perfect. His tongue will butcher the words of the blessing no matter how many times he repeats them. But he’s promised he would make this house a home again and this.. This is the way to do it.

So he does it. Metal hand holding the case and flesh one hammering.

Baruch atah Adonai, Eloheinu Melech haolam, asher kid’shanu b’mitzvotav v’tzivanu likboa m’zuzah.

He butchers that language and those words, but it feels.. It feels better than a lot of the things he’s done lately.

He’s precise with his strikes, and it doesn’t take long for all the doorposts of the house, except the bathrooms ones and the basement one, have a mezuzah affixed to them.

The cases themselves are a far cry from the ones he remembers, but it’s… it’s fine. It’s good. It’s enough .

Something settles inside of him. He’s going to have so many nightmares while sleeping under this roof, he’s going to struggle and hate everything, but he’s going to be safe. And the house is going to be a home again.

#bucky barnes #tfatws #jewish bucky barnes #fic #mine

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ghost-of-winters-past · 3 years

Text

white silence and the fragile reality

summary: The world had been destroyed and put back together again, but not without sacrifice and while Sam and Bucky were ready to move on you were afraid of never being able to fill out the footsteps you were trying to follow.

characters: bucky, sam, reader (platonic)

warnings/synopsis: post-endgame (spoilers), pre TFATWS, slight mentions of loss/death, a little angst, one or two swear words, otherwise just best friends being there for each other, fluffy ending. This is based on the request by @superwhoflarrow123 I had so much fun writing this and I really hope it’s anything like you imagined! (roughly 2.5k words)

The compound halls were empty, the flickering fluorescent lights made the whole place look as if it was haunted and honestly, sometimes you actually thought it was. Sometimes a shiver still ran down your spine whenever you passed Tony’s lab or Nat’s favourite red armchair in the space that once was a cosy movie room but now just felt empty. And more often than once you had to swallow down the lump in your throat that caused bittersweet tears to flood your eyes when watching their favourite mugs collect dust on the upper shelves. You still remembered the endless days and nights you spent in quiet sorrow with Natasha during the five lonely years together in these very halls. The peanut butter sandwiches you silently prepared each other every morning and the unexpected tight hugs soon became your only form of solace, afraid that the other might slip away too.

Now everything should be different. The world was saved, Thanos defeated and yet you felt like a piece of you was missing now more than ever. You realized it just a month after Tony’s funeral while standing in the fancy compound kitchen cooking chili that you were planning to take to one of the shelters that cared for those who got lost during the Blip and haven’t truly found their way back home yet. The smell reminded you of a time long gone, a time you thought you’d never want to think of ever again. You still remembered the evenings Steve’s, Bucky’s and your family spent together when all of you were just kids, heating up canned chili and playing old board games while the last of your firewood burned down in the fireplace, never daring to move too far away from it because the heating broke a long time ago and the small cramped apartment otherwise was cold and grey. You remembered being so incredibly proud and still shedding one or two tears when sending Bucky off into war, but that feeling of sadness was nothing compared to the excruciating pain you felt when under heart-wrenching sobs Steve told you that Bucky fell off the train and you thought: that was it. Life couldn’t be more painful than this. You soon had to learn that it definitely could.

You could still see the inside of the plane whenever you closed your eyes. You could still see yourself grabbing Steve’s hand while he said goodbye to Peggy that restored your belief in true love and then just holding on to each other as tightly as you could, waiting for the end. You didn’t remember the crash or the ice, just how you woke up in a strange room that was supposed to feel familiar and yet you could just feel it from the moment you awoke: nothing would be the same anymore. The world you knew was gone. Of course, you and Steve stuck together, helping each other adapt to a world that was so different from the one you once knew and finding a new purpose with The Avengers. Finding Bucky probably was the scariest and happiest day of your life and from then on you did everything in your power to hold onto that small sliver of hope that maybe everything could be okay again. Your small family finally was united again and it felt like it was a new chance for all of you. You just never thought it would end like this.

It was two months after Tony’s funeral when you could finally bring yourself to leave the compound again and try to pick up the pieces of your life. The wet grass made a squishing sound under your boots and the air smelled like fresh rain and new beginnings as you walked over to the front gate of the compound. The black shiny car parked in front of it was the first sign of normal buys life after you were alone for so long that you had to take a short moment to breathe before you pushed open the once automated gate. “Hey, you still remember us?” Sam’s familiar cheery voice called out through the rolled down driver’s window and that was the first time a small smile tucked at the corners of your mouth again.

From then on you decided to make an effort again. You wanted to heal, not only for your own sake but for theirs too. And you knew, Sam and Bucky would be right by your side. The compound started to feel a little more alive again, memories of long lost days turned from black and white to new colours whenever they were around. And they were around a lot. Finally, you were able to think about anything else than what you had lost, but then one day you saw the familiar shield leaning onto the side of the couch and Sam looked at you like one would at a lost child. “Time to move on,” he said softly and you knew he was right.

It was a sunny day, the rays of warmth caressed your face in a way nothing else could and in the air hung the smell of freshly cut grass and blooming flowers. The blue, white and red shield soared through the air like a metal frisbee, occasionally blocking out the bright sunlight from your view. The soft summer breeze carried Sams laughter over the field and it almost felt like nothing had changed at all. “Hey, Buck! I’ma throw my shield as far as I can and you go see if you can catch it, yeah?” Sam urged the brunette but only earned a scowl in response. “I’m not a fucking dog, Wilson.” You snorted and shook your head when Bucky actually started walking over the field backwards, one eye on the shield and waiting for Sam to eventually throw it. “If you catch it drinks are on me tonight!” You could hear Bucky swearing under his breath but as soon as the shield was cutting through the air he started running after it as if his life depended on it and Sam cackled next to you. Everything seemed so normal and easy, no trace left of the sadness of the last months and for the first time in what felt like ages you actually allowed yourself to think about the future again. The small smile that had played on your lips faltered as you started to realize what you were actually doing. Sam had told you about his plans just one or two weeks ago, said he had a responsibility now that he needed Bucky’s and your help with and when you agreed to work with him you hadn’t thought about it yet. But now it rolled over you like a big wave threatening to drag you underwater. “Now be a good boy and bring it back, buddy!” “Fuck you!” Bucky yelled and instead hurled the shield so high that it looked like it was cutting through the clouds. “Be right back,” you mumbled without even looking at Sam and turned around. “You okay?” you heard him ask concern lacing his words and you just waved your hand dismissively in his direction before stalking off. You ignored Sam and Bucky’s bickering behind you as you wandered in no specific direction. You didn’t know where you were going or what you were planning to do, it just suddenly had felt like an ice-cold hand was wrapping itself around your heart and you knew you needed to leave. Pictures flashed through your mind, past fights and battles and between all the mess there was one calming constant: Steve. A sob escaped your lips and you clasped your hand over your mouth, not hearing the footsteps that were trailing behind you.

“Hey.” You suddenly felt a warm, familiar hand wrapping itself around your arm and when you didn’t make a move to turn around Bucky was stepping in front of you, his grasp gentle and his baby blue eyes concerned. “Hey,” he said again, voice gone really soft when seeing the single tear rolling over your cheek that you immediately wiped away with the back of your hand and an annoyed grunt. “What’s wrong?” your best friend asked and suddenly you couldn’t hold back anymore. You didn’t care about how he would feel about you anymore. He was gone for five years but you knew him since kindergarten and you quite literally faced the end of the world together. “I can’t do it!” you burst out. “I can’t do this, okay?” you started to sob, your arms flailing around trying to make him understand what you meant with this and a soft look took over his features. “Can’t do what?” he asked gently and pulled you to sit down with him in the grass. “All of this!” you yelled, your chest heaving under the panicked weight you were trying to get off. “I’m not like you and Sam, okay? And I’m definitely nothing like Steve. I’m not the hero type!” you claimed hoarsely but Bucky just shook his head. “Why would you even think that after everything that happened? After everything you did over the last five years?” You let out a sarcastic laugh. “I was helpless, Bucky! If it would have been down to only me all of you would still be…gone.” “No. Stop doing that! Stop comparing yourself to them. You are as much of a hero as they are.” You wiped the tears from your cheeks again and shook your head. “Only because Steve was still there. I can’t do this without him,” you mumbled and Bucky just let out a little sigh before pulling you into his broad chest. It was silent for a little while. The happy chirping of the birds almost seemed as if they were mocking you.

“I miss him too, you know?” Bucky spoke again quietly and sighed again while resting his chin on the crown of your head. “You still remember him before everything went to shit?” he asked and you could almost hear the nostalgic smile on his face. You huffed. “He was a skinny idiot with a hero complex.” Bucky’s laughter rumbled through his chest and made your head vibrate a little. “I would have been caught dead before telling him but I always thought he was the bravest of us,” he said and memories of a beaten-up blonde kid with smudged bloodstains on his upper lip and raised fists filled your head. “He would have been squished like a pancake if it wasn’t for us,” he continued and a little smile tucked at the sides of your mouth. “I know what you are trying to do,” you grumbled. “Then shut up and listen.”

Bucky lifted his head from your chin and you could see him looking at you from the corner of your eyes, but you just kept staring at the line of trees surrounding the compound area. “You know what the first thing was that came to my mind after I escaped Hydra and got my memories back? How I had let you and Steve down.” Your head whipped around, mouth parting a little and a soft “Bucky,” escaping your lips. You could never imagine the pain he had to go through while being captured and even after escaping and it hurt you to know, that he felt like it was his fault. You wanted to assure him, to tell him that there was nothing he could do that would make you feel let down, but he just kept talking. “You and Steve were doing these amazing things, saving the world and shit and I was doing all this fucked up stuff. It just felt like I wasn’t worthy to be your friend anymore, y’ know?” Regardless of his words, there was a little smile lighting up his face. “I told Steve how I wasn’t worth saving because of all the pain I brought upon this world and you know what he said?” he laughed a little, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “The world has changed and none of us can go back. All we can do is our best, and sometimes the best that we can do is to start over,” he quoted and you immediately knew where it came from. “Peggy.” A smile grew on your lips as you thought of the fierce brunette that changed not only Steve’s but also your life. “Should’ve known he can’t come up with shit like that,” Bucky laughed and you snorted grinning and then wiped at your tear-stained cheeks. You knew what he was trying to tell you. He wanted you to feel comfortable with letting your past behind, to start fresh and just try your best. “You are not alone.” Bucky looked at you all serious but gentle again and this time you didn’t dodge his gaze. “I’m with you. And so is Sam. No one is expecting you to be like Steve. Honestly, no one even wants that. We want you. You are amazing and strong in your own ways and I really think we can’t do this without you. We will do this our own way and we’ll mess up, but that’s okay. We’ll be together. As a family.” Your vision was starting to get blurry again and Bucky tugged you against his chest again. “Thank you,” you croaked out, sniffling quietly, knowing you didn’t need to say more. You sat there together for a little while longer just enjoying being able to hold each other again after all that had happened and only let go of each other when you heard Sam’s fake offended voice.

“Are you really havin’ a sentimental moment without me right now? I feel so betrayed!” You chuckled and stuck out your hand to tug down Sam so he was sitting next to you, not bothering to hide the tears in your eyes from him anymore. “We promise to never have a sentimental moment without you ever again, ‘k?” you assured him and let your head rest on his shoulder. You knew that he understood what you meant. They were stuck with you know and they wouldn’t have it any other way. The sun was slowly settling, tinting the sky a golden hue and the air getting chillier so that the three of you decided to get back inside and leave the training to another day. As they were walking towards the compound Sam and Bucky were bickering, as usual, arguing about what to order for dinner and casually bumping shoulders with each other until even that degenerated and they were full-on shoving each other. You shook your head grinning as you trailed behind them, but before following them inside you turned around one last time. Your face soaking up the last warm sun rays you whispered a little promise into the evening air. “I won’t let you down.” You watched the sun disappearing behind the trees before turning back around. Sam and Bucky were standing at the terrace door watching you. “You comin’?” Sam called out and you took a deep breath. “Coming!”

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anonil88 · 3 years

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TFATWS SEASON 1 FINALE Liveblog

SPOILERS AHEAD.

Lots of action starting from jumping, i get that its necessary but some of it seems or feeld too long and drawn out.

I love Sam's winged captain America suit....mostly, that chin strap to ear cover thing looks weird to me outside of the comic books.

Does it even have a function? 🤨🤨🤨

Disney/Marvel is smart for during these flying and action scenes keeping the camera moving constantly because the eyes are less likely to pick up on what is real.

"MORGENTHAU!" Here comes great value super soldier ladies, gents, and those of the many varying gender identities......JOHN WALKER.

(Insert welcome to Walmart sound)

Him and his janky ass homemade shield that looks like a damn toy in this fight.

She said i don't give two flying fucks about you or your lil friend dude. RIP or whatever lmfao.

They are really jumping John like he's some guy off the street that stepped on their shoes.

Yay Bucky got to be the hero!!! And now he's back to kicking people in the chest. These flag smasgers lack fighting skills, all brawn and instinct with no skill. They keep going for Bucky' left arm not the right.

I really like that if you have closed captions on everytime Sam speaks it says Captain America. :)

Yea you bouta get ya ass beat mr. helicopter soldier.

Very smart planning Sam. 👏 👏

John might kill Karli but I want him to get his ass beat so badly.

Ayy nice kick girl nice kick.

If you really want to be a hero save these people.

Ayy here we.....go?

Oh it's Sam! When the hell did jet packs get strong enough to hold up an armored vehicle with people in it and a man in a full vibranium suit? Comic logic i guess haha.

Let me guess all this smoke is Sharon as the power brokers doing? Oh no maybe not.

They really forgot the power broker is looking for them in all of this.

We were right, she is the power broker that was obvious though.

Ah fuck she, Karli, shot Sharon no!

I hope Sam can get through to her even though his ass really can't fight at all.

I never thought John would be right about all three of them fighting on the same team but here we are.

Can John not make jokes...ever again....

Oh she wants a fight and he won't give it to her and that makes her so angry. Sharon to save the day but also Karli was just a very angry young person who the world fucked over so many times she thought anger was not only her purpose but her solution.

Aw Sam he actually cared about her though and shows up with her in his arms kid of like an angel.

Oh he is calling the politicians out too, in front of the press. Oh?

I wonder how the people will perceive him not as Sam, but as Captain America and Falcon for speaking his truth. He is a black man being the middle ground and mediator between those in power and the people.

Yea I really hate the goggles connected to the neck gaiter.

Bucky has a new Cap for a bestfriend 😭

Also, Bucky really loves being in the company of criminals i swear.

That movement is strong as hell now lol

Oh shit who is this old man? He just killed them all lmfao.

Ayyy the raft!

Oh that was Zemo's henchman lmfao Zemo planned it lmfao.

Time for US Agent to be shield's new personal attack dog.

Sigh Buck.... he has to let go of his old man friend. This older man does deserve closure and he will still have the girl to help him through his emotions. She didn't look upset at Bucky though which is good. No grudges just releasing the past.

Isaiah looks really good and just confident now maybe it is the a haircut. Awwww Isaiah and his grandson at the cap exhibit awwww they gave him a statue. This is making me tear up not gonna lie. Oof this man deserved and deserves so much better than how they treated him. Sam a real one for this.

Ay back in Louisiana!

Bucky looks mighty comfortable in this town full of black people...playing with the kids....helping out during the boil *sips tea* mighty comfortable ☕

Aw the change of the title 😭

Captain America and The Winter Soldier. I.E my captain America is black.

Post credit scene: THATS RIGHT MY BAD BIH AGENT SHARON CARTER BY DAY AND UNDERGROUND CRIME LORD BY NIGHT. "girlboss gatekeep and gaslight" lmfao

Overall thoughts: First i will start with my thoughts on the finale the first half with all the action was just okay in my opinion. I did not have many expectations high or low, but it was lacking something in all the action. Something that most of the other fight scenes had and have had in the MCU. I don't know what that spark is though (could be neat being tired) but it still felt underwhelming. Even Sam's speech was not the heroic candor or bold speech i expected. His talk with Isaiah was better imo. The second half of this episode really stood out for me though and had some very touching moments. Overall for the season, I really liked this show more than I thought I would and I wonder if we will see a season 2 instead of a movie spin off. Honestly from what I've heard from others that might be better if Disney/Marvel is going the route of deep dive with all of their characters. Bucky still has some things to work through but for now he is good and Sam has things to do as Cap so idk how much they would be able to tie together to make a season 2. I would be up for watching it though, really love the dynamic of these two on and off screen.

#tfatws spoilers #tfatws #the falcon and the winter solider spoilers #the falcon and the winter soldier #live blog #liveblog #tfatws lb

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sortagaysortahigh · 3 years

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Hey guys so i think im just gonna post my fics and thats rlly it in terms of the hellsite rn. I have a bunch of wips that im actively working on to just distract myself rn so i promise ill post them soon. I paused some of my angst bc idk if i can really fully commit to that at the moment but here are some of the wips:

Pope Heyward - All too well (paused but almost done)

Tom holland - the hollidate pt 1

Rafe cameron/oc - Call me by your name pt 1 (crime au)

Sam Wilson/oc - Dog Days are over pt 1 (loosely based on tfatws timeframe but definitely fanon univese)

Mat Barzal x Blck reader - ctrl series pt 1/prologue

Matthew tkachuk x reader - prom queen (based on the song not actual title - also bipoc reader but not specific race/ethnicity just not white)

Peter Parker x delmar!reader - complicated (college/frat au) (im also rewriting/replanning the lean on me series)

Editing this post bc i forgot a big one - Rafe Cameron x reader - imperfectly perfect (college au w some themes from Euphoria)

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essenceoflaughter · 2 years

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I posted 228 times in 2021

13 posts created (6%)

215 posts reblogged (94%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 16.5 posts.

I added 294 tags in 2021

#dark academia - 91 posts

#dark academic - 64 posts

#darks academic - 26 posts

#taylor swift - 23 posts

#to bake - 21 posts

#tfatws - 16 posts

#meghan markle - 15 posts

#sam wilson - 14 posts

#quotes - 12 posts

#reading - 12 posts

Longest Tag: 91 characters

#it took me a while to put aside how upset i was with the (not all cops) of the last episode

My Top Posts in 2021

I’ve come to the very comfortable conclusion that D*ny stans = white feminists.

41 notes • Posted 2021-03-19 19:29:08 GMT

You know I don’t hate the Darkling. I like him, he’s an exciting villain even in the books (although I prefer show!Darkling over book!Darkling), but that’s an analysis for another day. There are, however, three things that bother me:

Some Darklina fans: some fans are great, they just like the villain 😏 (and bless their hearts they make the funniest content), but there are the other ones who just can’t take anyone talking about the Darkling and Darklina in a negative light. It’s suddenly, “why can’t you separate fiction from reality”, or “if you don’t like it, don’t talk about it”. And the things is, I DO LIKE IT. I want to talk about a villain I like in the story I like without gatekeepers coming with their pitchforks.

The strange Mal slander: I am convinced that this is a result of the US literacy rate and Americans lack of reading comprehension skills (I’m Arab and this is a running joke in my country). When people say he’s boring, I’m like yeah, that’s fair. But when people talk about how toxic he is I am lost. The worst thing he can be accused of is being a sexually active 17 year old.

Finally, the most heartbreaking for me: the hate towards Leigh Bardugo. All she said was that shippers are free to do whatever they want (as they should), but within her canon, she’s not going to pair Alina with some one who tried to enslave her (pretty fair).

I just wish there was more consideration in this fandom. Everyone is so active and lovely but I think it’s important to call out unkindness.

54 notes • Posted 2021-05-02 04:13:24 GMT

Me before the interview: abolish the monarchy

Me after the interview: ABOLISH !!!THE !!!MONARCHY !!!!

61 notes • Posted 2021-03-08 16:19:39 GMT

I don’t know how to explain to show!Dany stans how slavery/imperialism/colonization is a red line for a lot of us (meaning POC) EVEN in fiction. Anyway, fuck white feminists, viva intersectionality.

PSA for those who still don’t get it: DAENERYS. IS. A. SLAVER. How she sees herself doesn’t matter, it’s how her “free men” see themselves. She can’t be the breaker of shackles while simultaneously benefiting from the people in shackles!

97 notes • Posted 2021-05-25 20:40:19 GMT

“Saved me?” The Lhazareen woman spat. “Three riders had taken me, not as a man takes a woman but from behind, as a dog takes a bitch. The fourth was in me when you rode past. How then did you save me? I saw my god’s house burn, where I had healed good men beyond counting. My home they burned as well, and in the street I saw piles of heads. I saw the head of a baker who made my bread. I saw the head of a boy I had saved from deadeye fever, only three moons past. I heard children crying as the riders drove them off with their whips. Tell me again what you saved.”

This is a Mirri Maz Dur Stan account and THIS is the passage that made me give GOT a chance (I wanted to stop reading after the invasion of Lhazareen).

“Tell me again what you saved”. Chills, just chills.

239 notes • Posted 2021-10-23 21:28:09 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

#my 2021 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

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captain-watercress · 2 years

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I posted 17,009 times in 2021

30 posts created (0%)

16979 posts reblogged (100%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 566.0 posts.

I added 104 tags in 2021

#tfatws spoilers - 25 posts

#bisexual - 14 posts

#lgbt - 11 posts

#lgbtq - 11 posts

#lgbt+ - 9 posts

#lgbtq+ - 9 posts

#amphibia deserves better - 8 posts

#bisexual pride - 6 posts

#pride month - 6 posts

#gay - 5 posts

Longest Tag: 111 characters

#im sorry but the only reason he'd get hired is bc stan is impressed by how few legal documents steven possesses

My Top Posts in 2021

Bucky crushing on both Sam and Sarah is the bisexual representation I need

And who can blame him? LOOK AT THEM!!!

119 notes • Posted 2021-04-16 19:55:40 GMT

I’ve seen some people say that Philip can’t be Belos because their noses aren’t a perfect match

Belos has a bump at the top of his nose, and Philip does not. But this can SO EASILY be explained as Philip/Belos had his nose broken at some point.

There. That’s it. Ideally he was punched in the face.

Thanks for coming to my TEDTalk

130 notes • Posted 2021-08-14 14:07:30 GMT

I know everyone is really excited about this (8/11) potentially being Anne’s birthday, but unfortunately that can’t be right. Say it was Anne’s birthday, August 11th. If five months have passed, it would be the middle of January right now, which can’t be right because they have a Christmas episode coming up soon. Also, Anne and the girls got transported to Amphibia during the school year, and August 11th is still summer vacation.

So I thought to myself, what does 8/11 mean? And that’s when it hit me. If you remember anything from Gravity Falls (a show Matt Braly worked on), Alex Hirsch loved to hide his birthday (6/18) all over the show. So I looked up Matt Braly’s birthday and…

He was born November 8th. The eighth day of the 11th month. 8/11.

139 notes • Posted 2021-10-23 14:52:54 GMT

The Legend of Korra walked so Steven Universe could run so Adventure Time could sprint so She-Ra could fucking fly

530 notes • Posted 2021-04-09 03:35:47 GMT

My dog, Diesel, wanted to let you all know how important it is to see yourself represented in media

Monchi is his new hero

776 notes • Posted 2021-05-04 03:14:57 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

#my 2021 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #I’m very proud that my top post is of my dog #Love that guy

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enkelimagnus · 3 years

Text

Locker Room

Bucky Barnes Gen, 2362 words, rated T for Hydra shit

Jewish Bucky Barnes, pre TFATWS, post Endgame

A small look into Bucky's work life, and the everyday struggles that come with it

TW: mention of medical procedures, death of family, light implying of Hydra Trash Party, the US Army

Read on AO3

Part 7 of Making a Home - the Jewish Bucky series

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The Special Restitution Taskforce operates out of Fort Hamilton, in a brand new wing of the building, all sleek metal and glass that makes Bucky think of toppling card castles. The new architecture these days looks too delicate.

It’s not like he’s got a say in the design of his place of work, so he shuts up about it. He learned a long time ago that the Brass make whatever decision they think is right, and he just has to follow along. That applies to design as well as to whatever gun is shoved in his hands when he walks into one of the aircrafts.

He could voice his opinions - after all, he’s not technically part of this shindig anymore - but he’s content with grumpy thoughts of how glad he is that the house they decided to give him is made of brick and not glass.

The taskforce is a strange sort of unit. There’s a skeleton crew of a handful of soldiers, people specialized in the kind of raiding the taskforce was built for. There’s him, the guy they call to break in a few doors, kill a couple people, and disable bombs, then sign all the paperwork. The rest are soldiers assigned to the SRT for one-off missions that get them a bit of a fatter check at the end of the month, and he can’t blame any of them. He’d have jumped on the opportunity too.

Regularly, there’s one that watches him with a weird awe in their eyes. When he breaches a safehouse, knocks out some Hydra thug that was hiding in shadows thinking he couldn’t hear them breathing from a mile out… He can feel their eyes on him.

They need a shrink as much as he does.

No one should look at him like that. They should recoil and be scared and disgusted, like the other kind of stares he gets while on the job. That admiration makes him sick. He’d give up every skill he’s ever learned in war or with Hydra in the blink of an eye if he could.

But he knows it’s not their fault. The army can breed kids that don’t know anything but violence and blood, that crave it. Who see Bucky’s skills as exploits and signs of heroism, when it’s just the result of decades of abuse. It makes him want to punch the President in the face, when he sees those 20-year-olds starved for combat like rabid dogs, when he sees young eyes haunted by shit they shouldn’t have seen.

So when he sees those with weird awe, especially when they’re young and eager, he doesn’t bark at them the way their superiors do. He asks them questions on the flight over to the target, about their families and their pets and why they joined. Some of them say college and healthcare and once again, Bucky wants to punch the President.

He shouldn’t be in the cargo hold of a plane with kids that just wanted to go to college.

As he changes out of his gear and into his civvies, he can hear some footsteps down the corridor to the changing rooms. He’s not technically an active member of the army anymore, so he gets a flashy lanyard, and he’s not allowed to bring home his gear.

He’s got a set of pink and greens in his wardrobe back home, hung up in a clothes bag to keep it safe. He’s never worn it. He was told they were made to be identical to the ones they gave to the vets coming back from the war, like an upgraded version of the all-purpose stuff they gave them.

He guesses one day he’ll have to attend some sort of official shit and they’ll ask him to wear it, with all the ribbons and things that also sit in a box in his wardrobe, untouched. His status with the army is weird, both part of it and not. They can’t decide whether they want to take credit for his acts of heroism or detach themselves from his acts of horror.

He does actually like wearing the field gear. Tactical pants and boots and a t-shirt, belts and holsters. They’re familiar and comfortable. He doesn’t get to wear that stuff often anymore. Not that he doesn’t like his civilian clothes, but tactical gear has the comfort of familiarity. For seventy years, he only took them off for cleaning and special missions. And the other ‘missions’ that he couldn’t think about without wanting to puke.

The changing rooms are locker-style. They remind him of the old times. He spent a good amount of time in locker rooms, in between high school, Goldie’s, the YMCA’s, the clothing factory’s… It’s different now, obviously. The lockers are opened with personnel ID. He flashes his guest lanyard against the reader and hears the mechanism unlock.

The door of the changing room opens as he pulls his gear t-shirt over his head and someone gasps. He allows himself one small private eye roll. It’s the glint of the arm that gets that reaction. With his shirt off, they can see where flesh and vibranium meet.

It’s impressive, he knows that. It’s impressive to him too. The stump that had been left after the fall and then covered by Hydra’s arm had to be amputated entirely as well, taking out a part of his shoulder. On the outside, the way Shuri’s design sits on his body isn’t very different from Hydra’s, but on the inside, it is. For him, it’s so different. It’s not only much lighter, but it doesn’t pull at him the way the other one did. It hurts way less.

He honestly didn’t really listen to the details of what the Wakandans were planning for his arm. When they took him out of the ice, explained what they’d done to try and remove the codewords, they’d asked him if he wanted them to deal with the arm too. And he’d said yes. They’d made sure he was informed and consented, but the medical jargon had flown over his head. As long as he wasn’t in pain, he was good with anything.

It had taken a week at most, and he’d been able to settle into the village, with goats, armless and painless.

He can feel the eyes on his back, on the arm, on the scars, on the chain of his dog tags around his neck. It feels off but he doesn’t say anything, just proceeds to take off the rest of his gear and pull on his clothes.

The henley has long sleeves that hide his arm, the jeans are a little on the looser side, and the shoes are those casual civilian boot styles.

They’re watching him still. They’re muttering to each other. ‘It’s the Winter Soldier’, and other such comments. Nothing bad, nothing he hasn’t heard a hundred times in this room. He feels horribly exposed anyway.

He closes his eyes before he gets to the outer layer and takes a deep breath. They don’t mean bad. They’re kids. There’s always been kids muttering about him, that’s always been part of his life.

If only he could not be seen. He just wants to bleed into the background and not be perceived. He wants the quiet of anonymity, the serenity of being alone and unseen. Even the blankness of being the Soldier sometimes seems better than being seen. He remembers waiting alone on a rooftop for a target to be in sight, he remembers standing by a door until the hours bled into one another and morning came quickly.

Sometimes he aches for that.

He hates it. Because being a person is… everything he’s wanted, for a really long time. And he shouldn’t want anything else than to feel, to think, to be human. It’s just so hard some days, when he’s being watched, when everyone knows who he is and what he’s done, when he’s not just some random guy named James but he’s the Winter Soldier.

The only people he connects to are those who do not remark on his identity. Like Charlie, the hairstylist whose voice is firm and soothing like Ayo, who doesn’t hesitate to touch him despite the fact that there’s no way she doesn’t know who he is. Or like his neighbor, with the buzzed head and the piercings, who has caught him in the middle of the night three times now, when he goes to run with a short-sleeved t-shirt and the sounds of his own screams resounding in his head still.

Those are his favorite sort of people.

Now that he thinks of it, they were the kind of people he liked back in the day. When he hugged Steve tight and someone would see and know. But they didn’t say anything. Or when his magen david fell from his collar and they would know he was a Hebrew and didn’t rat him out, didn’t use that to get the boss to cut his hours and give them to them.

The quiet people, the allies in the shadows. Those are his favorite people.

He pulls on his hoodie, and his jacket, then the gloves. It’s February, and it’s frigid outside, the biting cold that makes him think of Siberia, or of Steve’s coughing body curled up into his. All the risks he was taking by holding him like that.

The kids are changing into their service uniform now, and as he walks by them to the door, he sees gunshot wounds and scars and he wants to scream again. He’s been fighting for so long, and kids are still getting hurt like this. Granted, they are all well in their 20s, but to him, they look like kids.

He can already feel the virtual stack of paperwork waiting for him tomorrow. For now though, he can just go home. He’ll stop by the hair salon, see if they can take him this week. His hair is getting a little shaggy for his taste.

He waves everyone goodbye as he passes by, because he was raised right. His ma would come out of her grave to smack him if he was rude to someone who doesn’t deserve it. Perhaps he should do that. He hasn’t seen her in eighty years.

He was in the US when she died. They smuggled him onto American soil a couple of months before he was set to assassinate the president and made him lay low in the basement of a safehouse somewhere. He remembers very few things, but he remembers the horrible racist insults and comments from his handlers as Martin Luther King’s speech was transmitted on the radio. They hated the Civil Rights movement with a burning passion. Fucking fascists.

They never knew exactly what he was. Some days, it fills him with so much petty satisfaction. Hydra’s Fist was a Slavic Jew. And they didn’t even fucking notice.

He decides to walk back home, even if it will take at least twice the time it would take by subway. It’s 6pm, though, and it will be completely filled down there if he goes now.

The hair salon has a few customers in, but none are using the clippers right now. That’s his window.

Charlie’s behind the desk, and smiles at him as he walks in. It’s quick work to set up an appointment. Next Tuesday, before opening, he’ll have the place all to himself. He’s so incredibly thankful for people like Charlie. When he first came here, asking to see if they could cut his hair without clippers, she ended up offering for him to come early.

When it’s just him there, there are no buzzing tools around, only scissors and it’s an almost relaxing moment. Charlie doesn’t talk much if he’s not trying to have a conversation, and the silence is not awkward. It’s soothing. A balm. Her hands are light on his scalp, but unafraid. She checks on him from time to time, makes sure he’s okay, but he hasn’t ever felt the fear when in her chair.

The traditional barbershops he would have patronized don’t work with who he is now. And Charlie’s good with her fingers. She makes him think of Ayo sometimes. He probably needs more female friends.

“I can also schedule you for something on the 14th, if you want a fresh cut for Valentine’s Day,” Charlie points out before he takes his leave. “After closing, we do the whole staff, so they look great for their dates. I can add you.”

Valentine’s Day? Fuck, he hasn’t thought of that in years. He barely knew they still celebrated something on that day.

His face must look comical because Charlie chuckles and shakes her head. “Well, you’ll let me know next Tuesday if you want it, okay?” She says quietly. “No pressure. Besides, you never know what can happen in a couple of days. You could find yourself a partner.”

It’s his turn to chuckle, though his is sadder. “Ah, my last… partner is gone, so…”

She makes a face of understanding - even if there’s no way she understands. “Their loss,” she mutters as she enters the info for his appointment on her computer. “You’re a sweet guy.”

You have no idea .

Bucky just gives her a small, awkward smile.

She nods at him. “We’re all set up. I’ll see you fresh and early next Tuesday then, Mr Barnes.”

“James,” he corrects. “Just call me James, please.”

Mr Barnes was his dad. It’s always been his dad. Everyone that mattered called him James or Bucky, and then it was ‘Barnes’ or ‘Sergeant’.

“Then see you then, James,” Charlie smiles. He can see the exhaustion in her eyes, hear it in her voice. He’s gonna make her be there early too. Guilt claws his stomach for a second.

“Thank you,” Bucky nods and bids his goodbyes, walking away from the salon. He’ll leave a very big tip. She deserves it, for helping make his life less complicated. He wouldn’t be anywhere without people like her, and he knows it.

He makes it home soon after that, fleeing the cold of February evening.

#jewish bucky series #jewish bucky barnes #bucky barnes #marvel #mine #fic

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