#hydra... why does that sound familiar?

[akanemnon]

Going from Ace Attourney to Mortal Kombat... FIRST - PREVIOUS - NEXT

MASTERPOST (for the full series / FAQ / reference sheets)

[pome-seed]

Just Rest ★ Bucky Barnes

Pairing: Winter Soldier!Bucky X Engineer!Reader

Summary: The Soldat's metal arm is damaged during sparring.

Words: 1.2k

Warnings: Mention of knives and violence.

Authors Note: Based off The Soldier's Keeper, but an engineer/mechanic instead of a doctor. Idk, just trying to get out of my writing rut.

Masterlist Soldier's Keeper Masterlist.

The door slams shut behind you, the sound of metal echoing through the chamber. You stumble forward, your dazed gaze stuck on the writhing bodies in the center of the room.

“Idiot jammed his knife into the dog's gears, go check on him.” A soldier says from behind you. 

You nod instinct, but when your eyes find his, your stomach drops.

The Soldat stands in the center of the room, his breathing ragged as he clutches his metal arm. His jaw is locked shut in that familiar black mask, the neck of it buckled into the rest of his uniform. 

Cold blue eyes find yours before he lowers his head in shame. 

Your teeth ache as you clench, swallowing your own dread. You approach the man carefully, your bag of supplies hanging heavy at your side. You step over defeated soldiers, dodging their grumpy limbs. 

“Hey, can I see that arm?” You mutter, looking up at the sweaty man. 

He huffs quietly against his muzzle, struggling to catch his breath. Contrary to popular belief among his keepers, the Soldat does get tired. He feels pain, he feels exhaustion, and he slows down. 

But they still use him as their training dummy. They still think of him as the iron soldier who never waivers, perfect for beating their rookies into shape. 

But he gets tired.

And he feels pain.

The Soldat lowers his gloved hand, exposing the knife jammed between the plates in his shoulder, the blade pointed towards his collarbone. 

You grimace. “Any pain?”

He tilts his head at you, his brows twitching together. 

You shake your head. “Sorry- I mean in your shoulder-” you gather his whole body must ache from the constant beating he’s been receiving. “I need to know if the blade got down to the bone.”

He shakes his head slowly, subconsciously leaning forward, his body sagging with exhaustion. 

“Okay, that’s good.” You whisper, offering him a sad smile. “I’m gonna take that out now, sound good?” He nods, his gaze slowly drifting to your hands. You grab hold of the handle and carefully pry it from between the mechanics. 

The man makes a quiet sound in his throat, but he stays still for you. 

You dig through your satchel and pull out your tools. “I still don’t get why they make you do this with real knives…” You mutter, peeling off the scraped panel to see the mechanics beneath. “Seems like pointless blood spilt…”

The large man just tilts his head at you, watching you- not your hands. He didn’t often get the chance to speak with you. You were rarely left alone. But he aways listened. 

Because you were the only person who spoke to him like he was still human. 

You pick through faded wires and loose bolts, but find no notable damage- or so you think. 

You use a thin metal tool to lift another interior panel- the Soldat flinches hard. You freeze. “Did that hurt?” You frown.

He nods mechanically. “Mm…”

“Okay, just bear with me then,” you mutter, shifting the panel carefully. You shine your light between the metal and see faint red staining the cool steel. “Looks like he did knick something…” You sigh and turn back to the man guarding the door. “I need to take him to the lab, looks like there's some damage.”

The soldier visibly groans, then mutters something into his radio. “Alright, go on.”

“Come on,” you turn to the Soldat. “Let’s get you fixed up.”

His lashes flutter in a slow blink. He nods slowly and steps into your space before you even start moving. You smile and slowly take his hand. His gloved fingers are still in yours as you lead him into the hall. 

The walk to the lab is a short one, but you’ve memorized it by now. 

You’ve been with Hydra for over a year, and no matter how much you may have hated it at first, you quickly accepted your circumstances. They needed you to do a job, so you did it. In return, you got to live. 

You spent most of your time in the lab, waiting, or working. The rest you spent in your small room.

“Sit on the table please.” You release the man's hand and tug off your satchel. He obeys without a thought, like always. When you finally sit down at his side, you take a quick look back at the doors. You’re alone. 

So you slowly cupped his metal jaw and tilt his head up. Blue eyes latch onto yours. You slide your hands back into his hair and unbuckle his muzzle. The clast comes loose after you struggle with it,  then you finally pull it free. 

“Since we’re alone,” you whisper, smiling up at him. 

The Soldat shifts his jaw carefully, working the locked up muscles. “Thank you.”

You pat his knee. “Now let’s get that arm fixed, huh?” You pull your tray of tools closer. 

While you work, the Soldat watches you, his body swaying every time he blinks too long. You wonder how long he’s been running drills today. How many other men he had to fight, for the sake of training. But you don’t ask, because you just want to let him rest. Besides, his time with you was usually the only relaxed moments he got. 

“Can I tell you a secret?” You mutter, twisting wires back into shape. 

His head jolts up from where he’d been dozing off. “What?” His deep voice questions close to you.

“There isn’t much damage, I knew you’d be fine.” You glance up at him. “But I wanted to get you in here, so I lied.” 

His soft frown makes him look confused. “You did?” He glances at his shoulder. 

“Mhm,” you nod. “Just wanted to make sure they gave you a moment to rest.”

“Oh,” he huffs, his shoulders sagging as he sighs. 

“If I gave you the all good, they would have had you jump right back into sparring.” You mutter, sealing over chipped metal.

“Yeah…” he whispers. “Thank you…” He licks over his dry lips.

“Shush, just catch your breath.” You adjust your light to see deeper. 

He obeys, taking your words literally as he goes quiet. You smile to yourself and continue working. 

There isn’t much blood, thankfully. The tip of the knife must have just barely sunken into the muscle fused to metal. But it was enough that moving those internal plates stung. So you’re careful.

You’re always careful with the Soldat. 

And he knows it. So he lets his tired eyes fall shut. He lets his body sag a little further, until his head is dropping heavily onto your shoulder. 

You stiffen, but you don’t wake him. You just continue to work, until you're sealing the exterior plate back in place. And when you do, you stay put, allowing him to rest. 

You sit there, his metal hand resting in your lap. Your frown curls deeper as you feel his soft breath flutter against your exposed skin.

You wish there were more quiet moments like this. You wish he was allowed such a pleasure. “It’s okay,” you whisper, your fingers carefully raking through his long hair. “Just rest…”

A/N: Can you tell I kinda miss the Hydra era of the soldier's keeper...

Taglist:

@a-world-with-pure-imagination @frog-fans-unite @1967barracuda @akkklys @cherryheairt @lonelyghosts-stuff @mysoulbelongstobuckybarnes @devilslittlehelper @miss-chuchu @dollface-xoxo @natalia42069 @thuul-box @local-crazy @justachillgirllui @pleasecallmeunhinged @cookies-and-music @fallen-w1ngs @unicornqueen05 @bloodmocha @sleepysongbirdsings @fadingcollectivenightmare

[scariusaquarius]

rehab. 13.

Avenger! Bucky Barnes x Winter Soldier! Fem! Reader

Summary: While on a mission to find any more possible super soldiers that were a part of the Winter Soldier program, Steve and Bucky make a discovery in an abandoned HYDRA base that was cleared out a few years prior to their mission. They discover the Reader, a long-forgotten soldier that was still asleep within a functioning cryostasis pod; still awaiting orders. While Bucky isn't happy about it, he is put up to the challenge of helping to rehabilitate the soldier in Wakanda where she may be able to become a person again.

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A/n: Since the Avengers are all gonna be doing their own thing with each group, I want to make sure to include everyone and introduce the rest of the avengers! Also, if you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee! If you would prefer to read Rehab on Archive, you may do so right HERE!

This is an au where Bucky joined the avengers but still rehabilitated in Wakanda (sometime before Infinity War [canon divergent cause NOPE]). I am NOT fluent in Russian, so I did use google translate cause I couldn't find a good translator that I trusted. If anything is wrong, PLEASE let me know!! Also, I tried to list as many warnings as possible so you know what the story will contain as chapters are posted. Stay safe!

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Genre: Slowburn, Enemies to Lovers/Friends to Lovers, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Humor, Drama, Dark Content Rated: Explicit Warning: Angst, Dark Content: Graphic Depictions of Sexual Assault, Blood and Gore, Mentions of Manipulation, Kidnapping, Canon-Typical Violence, Body Horror, Nonconsensual Body Modification/Scarring, Emotional and Physical Abuse, Mentions of Murder, Mentions of Suicidal Thoughts/Ideation, Graphic Depictions of Human Remains, Mentions of Sexual Coercion/Manipulation, Death, Misuse of Drugs/Forced Drugging, Self-Harm (Graphic Depictions and Mentions), Nightmares

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Author: ScariusAquarius

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rehab masterlist. chapter 10 / chapter 11 / chapter 12

There were voices all around her, some familiar and some not. As her head pounded with pain, the soldier was unable to open her eyes. They were so heavy, feeling as though they were like concrete weights stuck to her face, and there was a sicky sweet scent wafting into her nose.

There was an oxygen mask stuck to her face, and though the soldier wanted to tear it off, her limbs were too heavy to really move. She could hear the Fist of HYDRA speaking to someone, but she couldn't place it. All she knew was that he sounded young and sounded worried.

But why?

'Nobody would ever worry about you. You're weak. You're nothing. I don't know what Doris saw in you.'

Doris? The woman from her dream? Why was she relevant? The soldier tried to open her eyes again, but she was unsuccessful still. Her body was too heavy for it to be normal fatigue. They must be drugging her.

"What do you want me to do if something goes wrong?"

The younger man was speaking now, sounding nervous, and if the soldier listened closely, she could hear the boy shuffling from foot-to-foot with anxiety.

"I mean, if she's a super soldier like you, wouldn't she be able to break through the webs?"

"Aren't they supposed to be strong enough to hold two halves of a ship together?"

The young boy chuckled nervously, asking in a small voice.

"Please don't remind me about that. That was almost the worst day of my life."

The Fist of HYDRA just sighed before he stated.

"You'll be fine. With how much anesthetics she's been pumped with, I think she will be too drowsy to fight if she does wake up."

But that wasn't true. She was a machine. A soldier. It was in her nature to fight no matter what condition she was in. Failure was not an option.

Her fingers twitched slightly as she tried to regain movement, and it seemed as though the two men didn't notice as she began to become conscious and aware.

"Didn't Shuri state that she had removed the programming? What even is the programming? All I know is HYDRA is, like, the worst."

As the Fist of HYDRA began to go into depth about what the Winter Soldier program was and how they did the programming, the soldier couldn't help but to pause as her eyes fluttered open.

"-If you began to show signs that you were remembering your old life, they would put you in a Mind Chair and pump as much electricity into your brain as they possibly can without killing you to erase those memories."

"That's...that's horrible. I'm so sorry."

The lights above her were so blinding that she had to squeeze her eyes shut. They opened again, and she sluggishly began to move, ripping the mask off of her face. The young boy who had been speaking seemed to gasp and jump up from the fright, his red and blue suit almost an eyesore to her pounding head.

"Bucky!"

The Fist of HYDRA immediately stood up, hands in the air as if to calm her down, and she had to hold onto the side of the bed as her legs became jelly.

"Все в порядке. Ты в порядке."

She felt nauseous, bile swimming in the back of her throat, and she gripped the side of the table so tightly that she bent it within the shape of her grip.

Standing up carefully, there was a brain fog that was clouding her mind. Things looked too bright; sounds were too loud, and her head began to pound. She stumbled slightly as she stood up completely, and she hissed out.

"Нет!"

The soldier groaned and fell to her knees, and the Fist of HYDRA bravely came to her side, placing a warm hand against her back as he knelt on the ground beside her.

"Все в порядке. Вы помните что-нибудь, что произошло после моего ухода?"

For some reason that the soldier could not understand, tears began to fill her eyes. She looked away from the man with shame, whispering as her shoulders began to shake.

"Voices....people...places...Что вы со мной сделали?"

She looked back at the Fist of HYDRA and she became guarded when she remembered that the boy in red and blue was here as well. He was keeping his distance, his hands raised in a strange position, and the Fist of HYDRA said gently.

"Shuri got rid of the HYDRA programming...or, at least most of it, I think. You're no longer under HYDRA's complete control."

The soldier began to grow anxious and irritated, her hand shooting up to grip the Fist's throat as she hissed.

"Who am I if I am not HYDRA?"

The Fist was calm, his metal hand gripping her wrist tightly, and she knew deep down that she would not win a fight with the Fist of HYDRA if it came down to it.

She never could.

"If you calm down, I can tell you. We found you, (Y/n). We found who you were before you were with HYDRA."

That name. Why was he calling her that name? The soldier gripped his throat for another moment before her hand relaxed slightly, and she whispered in a broken whisper.

"Эта красивая женщина - я?"

The Fist of HYDRA nodded, whispering softly.

"Yes. The pretty woman from your dreams is you."

Suddenly, the faceless mannequins from her strange dreams began to morph into faces, a beautiful woman greeting her by the record player and an angry sneering man yelling at her to get out of his office. The soldier began to feel sick again, and she whispered softly, crying.

"I don't understand. I...I....I'm malfunctioning...my programming is flawed. I...I need to be recalibrated...reprogrammed. I don't want to remember."

In a bout of bravery, the young boy in red and blue knelt to the ground, asking her softly.

"How come you don't want to remember? Don't you want to know who your family is?"

"My only family is HYDRA!"

She threw a metal table at the boy, who yelped and shot out some strange substance that clutched onto the metal and stuck it straight to a wall. The Fist immediately stood up, standing in front of the boy protectively as he urged.

"It's okay. It's okay, we're not going to hurt you. Peter's gonna say sorry, aren't you?"

The Fist gave the boy, Peter, a firm look, and Peter looked sheepish.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you."

He then leaned in close to the Fist, hissing in exasperation.

"She just threw a whole table at my head!"

"At least it's not a knife. That wasn't very fun either."

Peter's eyes seemed to bulge out of his head, and the soldier shook her head as the pounding became worse. The soldier couldn't deal with standing anymore, so she sat down on a metal chair and clutched her head.

"(Y/n)?"

A strange feeling filled her, and the soldier looked up with confusion. Why did he call her that?

"Who is that?"

The soldier winced as the lights became unbearable, and the Fist of HYDRA looked at Peter, asking him gently.

"Can you turn the lights down low for her?"

Peter quickly jogged to a control panel on the wall, dimming the lights just enough that the pressure within her head lessened. The Fist of HYDRA carefully sat down in front of her, saying as he slid over a file to her.

"We found out who you were, (Y/n). We found who you were before you were HYDRA."

The confusion and fear spilled from her eyes as she stared at the file; stared at the pretty woman in the picture on the front, and she whispered brokenly; sounding unsure as the words sputtered out of her chapped lips like a desperate plea.

"Ты мне врешь. I was born in HYDRA. HYDRA is my only family."

The Fist shook his head before he sighed and chewed on his lip slightly, trying to figure out a different way to approach the subject before he asked the soldier.

"Do you remember what I told you before you were reactivated about how my name was given to me before I was with HYDRA; About how I had a family before HYDRA kidnapped me?"

The soldier was struggling to remember, bits and pieces of the conversation coming to mind despite the difficulty, and she nodded after a moment. The Fist replied, his expression calm.

"You had a family and a name too. You had a whole life before you were taken by HYDRA and made into a Winter Soldier. Just like how my parents named me James, your parents named you (Y/n)."

Peter asked, mostly to himself, though the Fist gave him a dirty look.

"Wait, your first name is James? Why do they call you Bucky then?"

"My middle name is Buchanan."

Peter made a face of understand, and the Fist rolled his eyes. Settling his attention back onto her, the soldier felt her body tremble uncontrollably as his body seemed to loom over her. In her mind, she was becoming a speck on the floor; an insignificant piece of trash that deserved nothing while the Fist seemed to grow a thousand times taller. His eyes were angry; his lips snarling, and the soldier began to cry; covering her face and whispering softly.

"Please stop. I'll stop remembering. I'm sorry. There are...flaws in the programming. I need to be rebooted. I must be punished."

She began to ramble, the words spilling from her lips despite the voice in her head yelling at her that she must not speak unless spoken to. She does not deserve to have a tongue in her throat for speaking out-of-line. She must shut herself up and if she cannot, she must utilize her surroundings.

"Hey, hey, slow down. Breathe, (Y/n)."

The name sparked so much confusion; so much pain within her pounding head that she could not help but to scream, lashing out and throwing her balled fists wildly.

"Stop calling me that! I have no name!"

Suddenly, that same sticky substance that had attached to the table was wrapped around her hands. The force of being hit with the web smacked the back of her hand against the wall, and she tried as hard as she could to pull away. However, she was still too weak; too panicked to think clearly.

She became frustrated and upset, kicking at the bed and screaming loudly as the flesh of her hand began to pull painfully; the web stuck on like glue. Despite the pain, however, she kept pulling her hand; even when the webs finally cut deep into her skin and blood ran down her arm.

Arms came around her, making her scream louder; fear running through her scrambled mind. This was it. She was finally going to be punished. She had been out-of-line for too long. She'd been remembering too long. They were finally going to put her in her place.

"Hey, it's okay! It's okay. Listen to my voice. Listen to me. You're okay. Follow my voice, солдат. Вы не в беде."

Tears streamed down her scarred cheeks, and the soldier was hyperventilating. She was still struggling, trying to break free of his hold, but he was much stronger than her.

He had always been much stronger. Much better. Everything that she could not be.

'You're despicable. Even the Fist of HYDRA would do better than this. Shall I call him to teach you a lesson?'

"Мне очень жаль. Прости, Кулак ГИДРЫ! Пожалуйста, не делайте мне больно. Я буду слушаться!"

Bucky swore his heart had never shattered so hard before in his life. He remembered when his mother had passed away; Rebecca too young to really understand what was going on and why their mother wasn't waking up. His father hadn't even been home that day; too busy working that Bucky had to run for a neighbor.

He remembered being scared; confused and distraught about his mother suddenly passing and the way he just couldn't understand why. Why did his mother die? Why did she have to leave them so soon? How was he going to take care of Rebecca?

That weight that had settled on his shoulders had eased when he met Steve, but that side of him that had been jaded by his mothers death and the world and the ignorance of how to care for another human being...it truly never went away.

To hear the woman in his arms plea for The Winter Soldier not to hurt her...it was almost akin to death.

"What on Earth is going on in here?!"

Shuri's voice trilled through the air, and though (Y/n) was still thrashing in his arms, Bucky let her go as his arms fell; too shocked and winded to be able to function properly. Peter took over, webbing the girl completely while giving Bucky a concerned look, and though his mouth was moving, Bucky couldn't hear a damn thing.

Please don't hurt me. Please don't hurt me. Please don't hurt me.

Fist of HYDRA. The Winter Soldier. That is who you are and who you will always be.

I'll obey!

Oh, god, Howard!

"James."

Bucky's head shook slightly as he was roused from his thoughts, and he was immediately aware of the lack of screams. Glancing down, he noticed that (Y/n) had been sedated and was completely out; webbed up and lying on her back on the ground. Her cheeks were wet, eyelashes dewed with tears, and Bucky could feel bile rising up in his stomach.

"James, I need you to focus on me, alright? Listen to me."

Shuri's voice was calming, but Bucky could only stutter out his words as the shock continued to blow through his body.

"I...I'm here. I just...I...I think I need a moment."

Bucky immediately made his way to the balcony outside the lab, breaking the door from how hard he had pushed it open, and when he got outside and around the wall, Bucky immediately braced himself against it and began to cry.

You can never escape HYDRA. Where one head falls, two shall grow back in its place.

You will always be HYDRA. Even if you escape, you will miss your time here. It will call you home whether you like it or not.

I don't care. He killed my parents.

He was hyperventilating; panicking. His hand was going numb; the tips of his fingers tingling, and he could feel the need to vomit growing. His skin was sheening with sweat, but Bucky only felt cold.

He felt the cryogenic frost crawling up his body and invading his ears and nose and mouth, and he slid to the ground, placing his hands over his head to drown out the sound of the screams; of Maria Stark's cries; of (Y/n)'s pleas.

"Um, Mr. Barnes?"

Peter's voice was gentle, though Bucky was still lost within his head. Peter shifted from foot-to-foot, unsure of what to do, so he just sat next to Bucky quietly. He stared at the ground and pursed his lips, a furrow in his brow.

Peter didn't really know how to deal with panic attacks. He could recite complex inorganic compound formulas like the alphabet and he could describe the Standard Model Lagrangian like it was another day...but Peter had never been good with mental health.

Hell, he wasn't really a star model when it came to mental health and had no room to talk, but seeing Bucky like this...to see that woman in the lab that had been so badly abused by HYDRA plea for her life...it was horrifying.

At least, it sounded like she was pleading for her life. Peter didn't really know any Russian despite Natasha teaching him a few words. Taking a deep breath, Peter spared a glance at Bucky, hearing the way his heart was starting to slow down a bit. He was patient, just sitting with Bucky quietly as the man began to come down from his panic.

Bucky's jaw clenched slightly before he looked down at the ground, wiping his eyes and cheeks, and he said softly as Peter glanced over at him with a caring expression.

"Thanks, kid. I'm sorry you had to see me like that."

Peter shook his head, replying carefully.

"Oh, it's not a problem, Mr. Barnes. Sometimes we...sometimes we need a friend, and sometimes we need to be a friend. It's what we do. We help people."

Bucky nodded carefully, muttering.

"I see why Steve likes you, kid."

"Captain America likes me? That's so cool."

Bucky snorted, and Peter chuckled in embarrassment. The boy then paused, looking nervous before he asked.

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

Bucky replied without missing a beat.

"Don't push it."

"Understood."

Bucky shook his head before he watched Peter get up and dust his suit off. Bucky was quiet, just observing the kid for a moment, and he turned his gaze away when Peter stated.

"I'll go back inside and check on her. I'm here for you if you need it, Mr. Barnes. Honest."

Bucky nodded, and he called after Peter before Peter could get into the lab again.

"Hey, Queens."

"Yes, sir?"

Bucky almost bristled at the way Peter called him 'sir' and instead retorted with a pointed look.

"It's Bucky. Mr. Barnes was my dad."

Peter smiled gently, nodding his head before he said.

"I'll make sure to remember that, Bucky."

-

STORY NOTES: The soldier has woken up despite the anesthetics going through her body, possibly due to her heightened metabolism adapting and gaining tolerance to the drug, and she is aware that Bucky and another person are in the room with her, who turns out to be Peter Parker aka Spiderman. They are conversing on what to do if she wakes up, and Bucky makes a comment about the incident with the ferry in Spiderman: Homecoming.

Peter then asks about the Winter Soldier programming, in which Bucky explains the process and what it was and how they would take the memories of their subjects if they started to remember their old life. At this time, the soldier finally gets up, and Peter alerts Bucky. While the soldier is trying to orient herself, Bucky tries to comfort her, but the soldier is unwilling to accept comfort.

The soldier asks what Shuri had done to her, and Bucky explains that Shuri had removed most of the Winter Soldier programming that it would no longer affect the soldier. The soldier is distraught by the loss of her HYDRA identity, and she makes a comment internally about how if she wanted to fight Bucky, she wouldn't be able to as she never could, implying that she knew Bucky when he was the Winter Soldier as well. Bucky takes that time to introduce her name to her and let her know that he found her previous identity.

(Y/n) becomes distraught, and though Peter tries to ask her about her feelings and family, (Y/n) lashes out and tells Peter that her only family is HYDRA. She lashes out, and Peter uses his web to detain her. She suddenly has a lapse in her memory when Bucky calls her by her given name, and Bucky tries to tell her that they found out who she was before HYDRA again. He shows her the file, and (Y/n) is perturbed by seeing a picture of the woman she had seen in the mirror.

Bucky reaffirms to her that her name is (Y/n) (L/n) and she had a whole family before HYDRA, and she begins to panic so badly that she begins to hallucinate. Bucky calls her by her name again, and the soldier finally snaps, trying to lash out at him again. She begins to have a meltdown, and though Bucky tries to comfort her by holding her, the soldier has an auditory flashback of when she was told she was going to be punished by the Winter Soldier.

She begs Bucky not to hurt her, that she is sorry and she will comply, and Bucky is devasted. He recalls how he had felt when his mother had passed away, and he relates the feeling to (Y/n) begging him not to hurt her to the feeling of death. Shuri comes in, asking what is going on, and Peter finally completely webs (Y/n) when Bucky becomes too shocked to keep a firm hold on her.

Bucky begins to have a panic attack and exits out of the lab, and Peter follows after him to make sure that Bucky is okay. Peter thinks about how he doesn't really know how to deal with mental health properly and that seeing Bucky in such a state of disarray and hearing (Y/n) plead for her life was scary for him to witness.

Peter chooses to sit with Bucky quietly, and Bucky is thankful. Peter reassures Bucky that he doesn't mind helping him and asks if Bucky would like to talk about it, and Bucky tells Peter not to push his luck. After Peter tells Bucky he is going to check on (Y/n) and calls him Mr. Barnes, Bucky tells him to call him by his nickname, implying that they have further their friendship. End scene.

TRANSLATIONS

Все в порядке. Ты в порядке. - It's okay. You're okay.

Все в порядке. Вы помните что-нибудь, что произошло после моего ухода? - It's okay. Do you remember anything that happened after I left?

Что вы со мной сделали? - What have you done to me?

Эта красивая женщина - я? - That beautiful/pretty woman is me?

Ты мне врешь. - You're lying to me.

солдат - soldier

Вы не в беде. - You're not in trouble.

Мне очень жаль. - I'm so sorry

Прости, Кулак ГИДРЫ! - I'm sorry, Fist of HYDRA. (This translated directly as "I'm sorry, HYDRA Fist")

Пожалуйста, не делайте мне больно. Я буду слушаться! - Please don't hurt me. I'll obey!

TAGLIST: @tilldeathripsusapart @vicmc624 @mgchaser @aash3 @samfunko @seventeen-x @valckenaux @babybeeelle @sc4rrc @cjand10

[moonlit-imagines]

Headcanons for being an Avenger and an ex-Widow

Avengers x reader

warnings:

a/n:

prompt: anon 🥀: “hcs for how avengers would react to reader being an ex widow like natasha”

when you defected from the red room, you rejected SHIELD

“why trade one corrupt organization for another?” -you (not aware shield was ACTUALLY corrupted by hydra)

you freelanced for a bit, avoiding recruitment at all turns and trying to keep control of your life

but nick fury wouldn’t let you drop from his radar

“y/n, meet natasha romanoff” -fury

“i know you…” -you

“red room, yes” -nat

“what are you two doing here?” -you

“trying to recruit you, actually” -nat

“like i told your boss a dozen times, i want no part in working for SHIELD, the notion bores me” -you

“well, what if i told you a new position opened up?” -fury, watching your brow raise “im assembling a team, one with the most skilled players in the game”

“spies?” -you

“not quite” -nat, smirking

thus started your induction into the avengers

and nat became probably your best friend

“i’ve never met another widow defector, it’s…nice” -you

“we killed him, you know…” -nat, hesitating “dreykov. barton and i got him”

it was the best news you’d gotten in a while

the rest of the avengers were a bit ragtag compared to the soldiers they recruited

the billionaire in a suit, scientist with anger issues, the asgardian god

then 3 assassins and a soldier from world war ii

but you all made nice eventually, especially after fighting side by side

being with the avengers instead of a lonely assassin gave you back some of that humanity you lost over the years

“y/n, want to go on a run?” -steve

“with you? what’s the point?” -you

“i’ll slow down for you” -steve

routine runs became a stress reliever for you

you traded war stories with nat and clint on late nights when you couldn’t sleep

and tony made you his “guinea pig” when it came to testing new technologies

“i didn’t mean it in a derogatory way! i know where you come from, bad choice of words. would you though? it’s a pretty cool gun…wouldn’t want it to go to waste…” -tony

and bruce, sweet bruce, bruce recluse….

i just wanted to say that actually

bruce and you didn’t have all that much in common but sometimes he’d sit with you and keep you company, maybe offer you some food

you’d have really meaningful conversations with the avengers, too

“so, what deterred you from joining SHIELD?” -steve

“a lifetime of being controlled by people with their own agendas and no regard for their soldiers’ lives” -you “sound familiar?”

“all too familiar” -steve

“then you understand that i was not going to work for the united states government, it was hard enough joining the avengers” -you

okay, okay. you might be wondering “wheres all the action scenes?” fine here they are

you and nat knew some pretty outdated moves pretty well. after all, you were taught the same

it was easy to fight with her, it was almost like you were telepathically communicating your next moves

“are we sure the red room didn’t give them some kind of mind reading chip?” -tony “hey, that should be my next project”

“absolutely not” -steve

clint got jealous of you and nat because the bond they had was similar to yours, but you suggested a group effort with him

so you and nat taught him some red room lessons (minus the horrendous abuse)

thor enjoyed your ruthlessness

“y/n, you never cease to amuse me!” -thor

“they just knocked a man out, thor” -clint

“yes! hilarious” -thor

“you don’t laugh when stark does it” -steve

“stark? well, he’s not too funny” -thor

“hey! im funny…” -tony

honestly getting really close with the team

and eventually welcoming wanda and vision

assuring wanda that coming from a less-than-friendly background didn’t make her any less than the avengers

“you know, i was pretty bad before i joined up. you’ll fit right in!” -you

the avengers went through a lot of ups and downs

and by the time they’d split, you already left

“i’m sorry, guys. i’m just not cut out for this line of work.” -you

“what do you mean?” -tony

“you know what i mean. i cant be an avenger anymore. i cant be idolized and i cant be associated with whatever mess is brewing here” -you

you wanted to go solo again, working for the group was never what you really wanted

it was nice for a while

and you watched as the drama between steve and tony unfolded, feeling grateful you didn’t have to pick a side

*pressing ignore on your phone for the fiftieth time*

freelance life just suited you better

until you found the red room was still operating

and for once you picked up the phone

“hey nat. are we freeing these widows or what?”

taglist: @locke-writes // @captainshazamerica // @summersimmerus // @prettysbliss // @simp-legend // @wild-rose-35 // @nekoannie-chan // @beth-gallagher22 // @mymelodymia // @deanzboyfriend // @mr-mxyzptlk-1940 //

[munsonshire]

Train trips with Bucky

Pairing: Reader and Bucky Barnes

Warnings: talk about the war (WWII) because of what happened to Bucky and all that, no gore though, or talk about torture, so you're safe

Notes: Yes, I know I left for a long time. Let's pretend that never happened in the first place. Is that good? Yes? Good, let's go

Bucky Barnes Masterlist / Main Masterlist

---

Okay, so this headcanon has two versions: first, if you met him before the war; second, if you meet him after (during Avengers Civil War or after); a third would be you're immortal and loved all that time, though that's unlikely

Before the war

He always picks the window seat. He absolutely loves to look out the window and get lost in the sights. He finds it calming and is often lost in thought when he does it. Also, if you're very close, aka dating or really good friends, he might (MIGHT) let you sit there for a little bit.

He's overly protective of the luggage; he doesn't like the idea of anyone else touching it or getting too close to it. He insists on carrying everything and keeping it right on top of your seats, not further, ever. That's mostly why he prefers to travel light, just a little bag with a few things, and that's it.

During train travels, it's either him looking out the window or sleeping, sometimes both at the same time. But if it's you who falls asleep first, he stays awake....someone has to take care of the luggage.

Other times, he will get somehow nostalgic and tell you stories about when he was a child and how he went on little trips with his parents.

He's totally relaxed during these trips, and even more so if it's with you.

After the war

He has trouble with trains, I mean, who wouldn't after falling off one and getting tortured for the next 50-something years. Convincing him to go on a train trip with you takes effort, and even more effort does it take to make him get on the train.

Once he is inside, and after a lot of reassurance, he might get a bit comfortable. But all that goes down the train when the train starts moving, the sounds, the movement are all too familiar. He's tense, his fingers crunching the armrest, his look distant, like he's remembering all at once, and he's desperately trying to ground himself and not freak out.

You've obviously talked about this before; there's no way in hell you're getting him on a train without having talked about it before. You know all his fears, what happened at the war, Steve, Hydra...that's why you try to talk to him softly. Reassuring him that nothing is going to happen, and even more importantly, that he's safe. You might even offer the possibility to get off the train at the first stop if he really can't handle being on it for the duration of the trip. He really appreciates it. And maybe the first time he does accept the idea of getting off the train. But the second time you go with him, he is a little bit more confident.

But even after the first tries, he's still super aware of his surroundings, like danger is everywhere waiting for him to lower his guard. He checks the exits, speed of the train, and even the people around him. But as you work with him to get past his fears, he slowly but surely starts changing those habits.

He sometimes opens up about what happened with the trains during the war. How they were often packed with soldiers, how they’d move in the dead of night, and how the sound of the tracks beneath them felt like a countdown to something he couldn’t control. His voice falters a bit as he talks about the things he saw during the war, and you can hear the weight of it all.

Bucky will stay awake a bit longer than he needs to, avoiding falling into a deep sleep, because he’s afraid of nightmares — ones where he’s in the middle of a mission, the sound of the train tracks rattling, or worse, when he’s back in Hydra’s grasp. But eventually, if you’re there, he’ll fall asleep with his head on your shoulder, clinging to you like a lifeline, finding comfort in your presence.

Even though he doesn’t want to admit it, part of the reason he’s so insistent on carrying your bags, picking the safest seat, and staying alert is because he’s not just watching for danger — he’s keeping both of you safe from his triggers, too. He’s trying to make sure that you’re both okay, even when he’s not fully okay himself.

As the train moves into more peaceful countryside or quiet towns, you notice Bucky’s shoulders start to ease, his jaw unclenching a little. He might even smile at you, a small, almost imperceptible thing, but it’s real.

Once you’re past the worst of it — the initial nerves, the tension — he’ll get absorbed in the ride. Maybe he’ll even chuckle at the quirky things you see out the window. For a moment, the pain of the past feels more distant, the train just a train again.

[gemmawritess]

Blue velvet

Summary:You were his love, something that should have never been taken from him and now Bucky has to wallow in it.

Warnings:Character death(reader), implications of sex, implications of stab wound and blood, angst wc:1.1k

A familiar, slightly scratched record hummed through Bucky's now empty apartment. The tune of Blue Velvet — the tune Bucky had once introduced to you. The tune that was one of the favourites that he showed you on your first date.

She wore blue velvet

You once wore a blue velvet dress, the bluest of blue that captured your curves on the dance floor. Your blue dress that was meant to be returned on a sleek hanger at the end of the night, the dress that instead stayed on you till the end.

It was unexpected, something even Bucky couldn't protect you from. A Hydra ambush. On the night that Bucky wanted you forever, now he had to mourn you forever. Your royal blue fabric was tinged into a murky, scornful shade of purple as a blade sliced mercilessly through your chest. The motion of you falling limp in your boyfriend's arms as he cried and tried to soothe you was a feeling that hollowed Bucky's chest.

"Bucky..." your voice painfully switched to an agonised whisper as his face went deathly white. Why couldn't it have been me — what else could he have thought when he saw you, the love of his life, fall into his arms as he tried not to cry?

"Shh, shh, it's okay, baby," Bucky tried with all his might to sound comforting as he screamed for help while trying to rub your back.

"I love you, Bucky. You're going to be okay, okay?" you coughed out before using one last ounce of strength to meet his brave cerulean eyes.

He couldn't even fully reply between raw gasps and sobs, but he managed to say "I love you" back one last time.

He stayed there in the middle of the dance floor that Tony hired for one of his annual balls. His heart was beating alone, desperate for its mate to return. No one else had gotten hurt — to the extent of you, at least. He didn't budge at the commotion of everyone else going back into fight or flight, because you were meant to be fighting back with him.

Warmer than May, her tender sighs

The way you would sigh in contentment after making love, cuddled up on his lap. The soft light of your bedroom illuminating all the features you love about Bucky: the softness of his skin despite all the littered scars, his strong arms that wrapped around you like you both were designed for it. "You're the most beautiful person I know," your voice quiet but never wavering in passion as you blissfully sighed against Bucky's neck; letting a small smile sit on your face as his neck heated up slightly at your words.

"I don't know what I did to deserve you, baby," he confesses before gently bringing your face up so he can meet your kind eyes. Not once has Bucky imagined having the most beautiful girl in his life, let alone trusting him in the most intimate act.

Ours, a love held tightly

The thing Bucky would always do would be to sneak up behind you and wrap his arms around your waist to pick you up and spin you around. "Buckkyyyyy," you would squeal with your back pressed flush against his chest.

"Can't a man hug his girlfriend anymore?" he would always say back cheekily before resting his head on your shoulder.

"He can, but his girlfriend should have two feet on the ground when he does." Your words would always make him shake his head and smile like a madman before spinning you around once more before putting you down — with his hand wrapped around your waist while you steadied yourself.

But in my heart there'll always be precious and warm a memory

The apartment that is now only in his name, yet your belongings have never once moved since he lost you. The pillows left messy on the couch from play fighting with him weeks ago, the bathroom with your various skincare products left forever now untouched in some small attempt that maybe you can come back and use them while Bucky brushes his teeth. Perhaps it was his ultimate karma from being the Winter Soldier, your warm love ripped away just when he thought he was worthy of it.

His years in Hydra's grip, sobbing silently in his cell, wishing to escape it and live a life of peace. Perhaps he's never worthy of peace, instead always on the brink of it with the chance for it to be cruelly stolen away.

I still can see the blue velvet through my tears

When did he start crying? Both hands shook as he darted his head down. Your blood eternally stained his hands, even if no one could see it. The record popped from its scratches that it had gained over the years, but you never minded; you said it made it unique — like Bucky. "I miss you so damn much, baby." His shaky words into the emptiness of the room turned into pained howls that resembled sobs. The kind that you told him he would never experience again as long as you loved him.

The room was caving in on him — your echoing laughter from when you would dance in the living room during the dead of night with this song humming along with you both. Your soft words in between moans as you would reiterate your love for him started to join in on the taunting in his aching mind. With no other way to silence the memories in his head, Bucky tried to claw them out of his head. It all stopped for a split second — your fingertips brushed his scalp as you whispered, "It's okay, Buck, I'm here." Were you there?

Immediately all movements of his stilled before he frantically looked around to try to find you. Like second nature, he ran through the apartment calling your name — if he could feel you, where are you? Tears stung his eyes as he searched, yet nothing. The memories bittersweet, yet they were bitter as even his own subconscious taunted him with the idea of you still being with him.

His suit wrinkled as he crashed down against his front door, dropping his head to his knees as he sobbed. He would do anything to see you, yet the way he sees you hurts him in every way. A different voice filled his ears — not his own hyperventilations, not the soft echo of your voice, but the commanding yet comforting voice of Steve.

"Ya in there, Buck?"

Bucky shouldn't even be doing this — he imagined professing his love even more at your wedding, to your face, not to a room full of people watching him lament about you as they pitied him.

a/n:I tried to make this gut wrenching how the fuck do y'all do it?? Have no fear I wanna write a fluff one shot after this

[princessbutler1316]

O!Ciel's Real Name Theory

So, where do I start? First we may have some clues, here and there.

But I will start first with Yana's name, we all know that's a pseudonym, so a Brief description of how the Japanese letter system works, it has three types: Kanji, Katakana and Hiragana

Katakana and Hiragana are basically the same, but one is used to foreign language and the other Japanese language

Kanji is composed of ideograms where each one represents a concrete or abstract idea. Also they can have more than one meaning

枢- toboso

やな- ya na

Let's forget about the Yana and focus in the surname, 枢, when you search on a Japanese name site (I'm also an author and these sites are my salvation), one of the pronunciation is this:

The constellation is composed of seven bright stars of the constellation Ursa Major;

Not only are the stars in the Big Dipper easily found themselves, they may also be used as guides to other stars outside of the asterism. Thus it is often the starting point for introducing Northern Hemisphere beginners to the night sky:

Polaris, the North Star (seems familiar?), is found by imagining a line from Merak (β) to Dubhe (α) and then extending it for five times the distance between the two Pointers. Extending a line from Megrez (δ) to Phecda (γ), on the inside of the bowl, leads to Regulus (α Leonis) and Alphard (α Hydrae).

BUT THE STAR THAT CAUGHT MY ATTENTION WAS THIS ONE:

By following the curve of the handle from Alioth (ε) to Mizar (ζ) to Alkaid (η), one reaches Arcturus (α Boötis) and Spica (α Virginis). A mnemonic for this is "Arc to Arcturus then speed (or spike) to Spica."

Why was this the only star that caught my attention?

No specific reason the name sounded good to me.

Jokes apart after some research, I'm positive this is O!Ciel real name:

ARCTURUS PHANTOMHIVE

Or Arturo Phantomhive, since u know, French names

But if you ask, do I have more proof or evidence?

HELL YES

Evidence 1

Firstly, let's go back a little and talk a little about colors, starting with Weston High School, which, as everyone knows, is an improved version of Harry Potter but without magic.

The only house that was not represented was Hufflepuff, which has the main color: yellow.

Instead we have Violet Wolf which is represented by the color violet/purple

What does it have to do with it?

They are complementary colors in the spectrum of colors, any painter or artist knows that

This was also applied to the Green Witch Arc, which in this case was used to replace Little Red Riding Hood

So, what else does this have to do with it?

Well, Arcturus is an ORANGE star

While Sirius is a BLUE star

Yes, the two are complementary colors also the fact O!Ciel is always using Blue...

Evidence 2

I'm not going to deny this one but it's kind of stupid, but it could still be relevant

Did you notice that the name Ciel Phantomhive has the same initials as his grandmother?

C.P.

Well, if the name Arcturus Phantomhive has the same initials as if Madame Red had married Vincent

A.P.

And all the evidence points to O!Ciel being closer to his mother than his father…

You understand what I meant

[thisiscatherinesworld]

home alone, tryin’ not to eat (i can’t stand the dialogue)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/57836233

by me! (thatonegirlwhocries)

Summary:

Bucky stood in his small kitchen, staring at the untouched breakfast on the counter. The toast was cold by now, the butter having congealed into an unappetizing layer. His stomach churned, not with hunger, but with the familiar knot of anxiety that food always brought. With a sigh, he pushed the plate away and poured himself another cup of black coffee, hoping the bitter liquid would stave off the gnawing emptiness inside him. Or, Food had always been a struggle for Bucky. Even before the war, he was used to giving his portions to his sisters or Steve. They needed it more. During the war, rations were low, and he learned to get by on very little. HYDRA loved to torment their Asset by denying food and playing mind games. Now, even though he was free, HYDRA's ghost still haunted him, controlling his every meal.

Written for AugustofWhump Challenge (2024)

Empty.

That’s all it felt. Empty.

No, no, no! The Asset doesn’t feel. Feelings are for humans, and It is not human.

But It is so empty. The Asset does not know why It feels empty. There is a gnawing at Its stomach, and the empty feeling only grows stronger, an insidious presence that twists and claws inside Its core.

Its Handlers haven’t fed—inserted a nutritional IV—into the Asset for a long time. They said It was very disobedient on the mission.

It tried to carry out the orders within mission parameters. It really did. But they don’t care.

They never do.

The Asset doesn’t know how It was bad. They never tell It why. They just punish.

“You were a very, very bad boy today, Soldat,” his Commander growled into his ear before locking It in the cell. The Commander’s breath was hot and foul, his voice dripping with sadistic pleasure. “You need to learn your lesson.”

It doesn’t want to be a bad boy. No, no, no, NO! The Asset doesn’t have wants. Or needs. Just orders.

And hunger.

It always had that.

Its Handlers said no food until It learned Its role as the Fist of HYDRA. The words echoed in Its mind, each syllable a hammer striking Its fragile sense of self.

Would It ever learn?

The Handlers said that It would.

It would.

Even if it meant being hungry.

All the time.

The cell was cold and dark, the only light coming from a flickering bulb outside the barred window. The concrete floor was rough against Its skin, the chains binding Its wrists and ankles biting into flesh.

Every movement was agony, but staying still was worse. The hunger gnawed relentlessly, a savage beast that would not be tamed.

The Asset curled into a ball, trying to make itself as small as possible. Memories, or fragments of them, flitted through Its mind. A different time, a different place.

Faces without names, voices without context. Warmth, laughter, love. Things that seemed alien now.

It squeezed Its eyes shut, trying to banish the thoughts. They were dangerous. They made It weak.

But the emptiness remained, a void that threatened to consume everything. The Asset’s stomach growled, a pitiful sound in the oppressive silence. I

t was a constant reminder of Its failure, Its inadequacy. It would never be enough. Never good enough. Never obedient enough.

“Please,” It whispered, though It didn’t know to whom. The words were a desperate plea, barely audible. “Please, I’ll do better.”

But there was no response. There never was.

The Asset’s world was pain and darkness and hunger. It had forgotten what it meant to be anything else. The hollow ache in Its gut was a familiar companion, a twisted comfort in its constancy.

It clung to the hope that someday, somehow, it would be enough. That the emptiness would be filled. That the hunger would be sated.

But until then, It would endure. Because that’s all It knew how to do.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bucky stood in his small kitchen, staring at the untouched breakfast on the counter. The toast was cold by now, the butter having congealed into an unappetizing layer.

His stomach churned, not with hunger, but with the familiar knot of anxiety that food always brought.

His stomach churned, not with hunger, but with the familiar knot of anxiety that food always brought.

With a sigh, he pushed the plate away and poured himself another cup of black coffee, hoping the bitter liquid would stave off the gnawing emptiness inside him. The emptiness hurt. The pain was bone deep, and always have been.

But the feeling of being full was worse. So, so much worse. It was unnatural, inhuman. But he’s never truly been human, has he?

Looking back down at the forgotten toast and butter, he gagged. He felt disgusting even considering eating. He was not worthy of food. Of joy. Not after the stuff he had done. Not after the people he killed.

And Bucky understood that it ‘wasn’t him’, but it was. He was the one who pulled the trigger.

The doorbell cut through his horrid thoughts. Bucky’s head snapped up, gazing down the sparse hallway to the front door.

Get the door, you fucking piece of shit, barked a cruel voice in his head.

Breaking out of his trance, Bucky scrambled for the door. The vibrainum fingers fumbled with the many locks that would not hold during an attack, attempting to wrench the door open.

The doorbell went off again, and Bucky tried to go faster. He internally cursed these stupid ten dollar locks from the store around the block. Looking down, he realized his left hand had dented the metal holding the door shut.

With the locks finally disabled, he grasped the now-ruined handle and yanked it open. Sam’s face greeted him.

“I’ve been knocking for five minutes now, old man, what took so long? You doin’ the daily crossword?” Of course. Sam and his constant need to be a smartass.

“Jus’ come in,” he gave in response. Sam brushed past him and strutted into the apartment. Bucky regretted having the pre-mission debriefing at his apartment.

“Man, you have like, no stuff in here!” Yelled Sam from his ‘living room’. Sighing, Bucky went to join him.

The feeling of hunger never faded. It never did.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The mission was simple enough. An easy in-and-out. There was supposed to be minimal guards and agents. Key word: supposed to be.

In reality, there are dozens of soldiers running at them when they were told there was going to be roughly twenty.

Which was… fine. Bucky and Sam could take them. Bucky was just so tired.

He was sluggish in his attacks, worse in the defensive field. And Sam noticed. Of course he did.

Fuck Sam and his ability to notice all the little 'problems' in Bucky's life.

Sam's face scrunched up. "Are you ok, Buck?" he said, punching the guy that tried to get the jump on him.

Bucky forced a tight smile, throwing a punch that lacked his usual strength. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he lied through gritted teeth. The truth was, every movement felt like it was dragging him deeper into a pit of exhaustion.

Sam didn’t buy it. He never did. “You sure? You look like hell, man.”

Bucky didn’t respond. He couldn’t afford to let Sam in on how bad it really was. Not now, not ever. Instead, he focused on the fight, trying to keep up with the wave of enemies swarming them.

But his body betrayed him. A sudden dizzy spell hit, and Bucky’s vision blurred. He stumbled, nearly missing a knife aimed at his gut. Sam swooped in, disarming the attacker with ease.

“Watch it, Buck!” Sam shouted, concern lacing his voice. “What’s going on with you?”

Bucky shook his head, trying to clear the fog. “Just a bad day,” he muttered, pushing himself to keep going. But his movements were becoming more erratic, less controlled. He could feel his strength waning with each passing second.

Sam, always the protector, took a defensive stance in front of him. “Stay behind me,” he ordered, his voice brooking no argument. Bucky hated it. Hated feeling weak, hated needing help. But he couldn’t deny that he needed it.

The remaining guards were quickly dispatched, and the room fell silent. Sam turned to Bucky, his eyes filled with worry. “We need to get you out of here,” he said firmly. “You’re not in any shape to keep fighting.”

Bucky wanted to protest, but his body was betraying him. His legs felt like they could give out at any moment. Reluctantly, he nodded. “Fine. Let’s go.”

Sam wrapped an arm around Bucky’s shoulders, helping him stay upright as they made their way out of the compound. Each step was a struggle, the world around him spinning.

“You’ve got to start taking better care of yourself, Buck,” Sam said quietly. “This isn’t sustainable.”

"I'm fine, Sam," Bucky whispered.

Sam didn’t buy it. He never did. “You sure? You look like hell, man.”

Bucky didn’t respond. He couldn’t afford to let Sam in on how bad it really was. Not now, not ever. Instead, he focused on the fight, trying to keep up with the wave of enemies swarming them.

If Sam found out what a disgusting piece of shit Bucky was, he wouldn't want to be around him.

Who would want to be around a person who couldn't even eat? He was pathetic. Sam couldn't know. He just couldn't.

But his body betrayed him. A sudden dizzy spell hit, and Bucky’s vision blurred. He stumbled, nearly missing a knife aimed at his gut. Sam swooped in, disarming the attacker with ease.

“Watch it, Buck!” Sam shouted, concern lacing his voice. “What’s going on with you?”

Bucky shook his head, trying to clear the fog. “I’m good,” he muttered, more to himself than to Sam. He threw another punch, but his strength was waning fast.

The next wave of attackers came, and Bucky was slower than ever. A heavy blow to his side made him double over in pain. He barely had time to register the punch that followed, knocking the wind out of him.

Sam was fighting off multiple opponents, but his eyes kept darting to Bucky, worry etched on his face. “Bucky, fall back! You’re not right!”

Bucky wanted to argue, to push through, but his body wouldn’t cooperate. Another dizzy spell hit, and he stumbled backward, his vision narrowing. The world around him turned into a blur of colors and sounds.

The last thing he heard before darkness consumed him was Sam’s frantic shout. “Bucky!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The room was dimly lit, shadows clinging to the corners like specters. The cold metal table in the center of the room was stark and unforgiving, much like the men who stood around it. The Asset was strapped to a chair, its wrists and ankles bound with heavy chains. The clinking of the chains was the only sound in the oppressive silence.

The Commander entered the room, a sinister smile playing on his lips. He carried a tray covered with a metal dome, and the faint aroma of food wafted through the air. The Asset's stomach growled involuntarily, a reminder of the gnawing emptiness that had become a constant companion.

“Ah, Soldat,” the Commander said, placing the tray on the table. “You must be hungry.”

The Asset didn’t respond. It had learned long ago that speaking out of turn only brought more pain. The Commander lifted the dome, revealing a steaming plate of food—roasted chicken, mashed potatoes, green beans. The sight of it made the Asset’s mouth water, but it kept its gaze fixed on the floor.

“You’ve been very disobedient,” the Commander continued, cutting a piece of chicken and holding it up with a fork. “But we believe in positive reinforcement. Do as you’re told, and you’ll be rewarded.”

The Asset’s eyes flicked to the fork, then back to the floor. It knew this game. It had played it many times before. The hunger was unbearable, a constant, aching void that seemed to grow with each passing second.

The Commander moved closer, the fork tantalizingly close to the Asset’s lips. “Open your mouth,” he commanded.

The Asset hesitated, then obeyed. The taste of the chicken was overwhelming, a burst of flavor that brought tears to Its eyes. It chewed slowly, savoring every moment, every bite a cruel reminder of its captivity.

“Good,” the Commander said, a glint of satisfaction in his eyes. “See how easy it is? Follow orders, and you get to eat.”

The Asset swallowed, the taste lingering on Its tongue. The Commander cut another piece of chicken, but this time, he didn’t offer it immediately. Instead, he held it just out of reach, a cruel smile playing on his lips.

“But disobey,” he said, his voice dropping to a menacing whisper, “and you’ll starve.”

The Asset’s stomach twisted with a mix of hunger and fear. It knew the Commander’s threats were not empty. It had spent days, sometimes weeks, without food, the agony of starvation used as a weapon to break Its will.

“Please,” the Asset whispered, its voice raw with desperation. “Please, I’ll do anything.”

The Commander’s smile widened. “That’s what I like to hear.” He fed the Asset another piece of chicken, then set the fork down. “Now, let’s discuss your next mission.”

The words were a hollow echo in the Asset’s mind. All It could think about was the food, the promise of more if It obeyed. The Commander detailed the mission parameters, the Asset nodding mechanically, its thoughts consumed by the gnawing hunger and the brief relief that obedience would bring.

“Remember,” the Commander said, leaning in close, his breath hot against the Asset’s ear. “You are nothing without us. We control whether you eat, whether you starve. Your life is in our hands.”

The Asset nodded again, the weight of the chains digging into its skin. It understood all too well. HYDRA owned It, body and soul. The food was just another tool of control, a reminder that even the most basic human needs were not Its own.

The Commander left the room, leaving the half-finished plate of food on the table. The Asset stared at it, the hunger clawing at Its insides. It knew better than to reach for it. It would only be fed if It performed well on the mission.

The room grew colder as the minutes passed, the scent of the food a cruel torment. The Asset closed Its eyes, trying to block out the hunger, the emptiness. It was a weapon, a tool, nothing more. And HYDRA would use every means necessary to ensure It never forgot that.

The Asset steeled Itself, knowing that the only way to survive was to comply, to follow orders, to endure. The hunger would always be there, a constant reminder of Its place. But as long as It obeyed, there would be moments of relief, fleeting as they were.

And so It waited, chained and starving, for the next mission, for the next bite, for the next test of Its obedience. The cycle of control and hunger, of pain and fleeting relief, would never end. Not until HYDRA decided It was no longer useful.

But they never did.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bucky woke to the sterile smell of antiseptic and the soft beeping of medical monitors. His head felt heavy, and it took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the bright lights of the hospital room.

He blinked, trying to piece together what had happened. The mission. The fight. The pain. And then… nothing.

“Hey, you’re awake.” Sam’s voice was soft, but it held an edge of relief.

Bucky turned his head to see Sam sitting in a chair beside the bed, looking exhausted but relieved.

“Where am I?” Bucky croaked, his throat dry and scratchy.

“Hospital,” Sam replied. “You passed out during the mission. Scared the hell outta me.”

Bucky tried to sit up, but a sharp pain in his side made him wince. Sam was quick to place a hand on his shoulder, gently pushing him back down.

“Easy, Buck. You’re pretty banged up. Docs said you were dehydrated, malnourished, and running on fumes. What the hell were you thinking?”

Bucky closed his eyes, feeling the weight of Sam’s words. “I wasn’t,” he admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “I just… couldn’t.”

Sam sighed, the sound filled with frustration and concern. “You need to take care of yourself, Bucky. You can’t keep running on empty.”

Bucky nodded slightly, knowing Sam was right but feeling the familiar knot of anxiety tightening in his chest. The thought of eating, of trying to fill that emptiness, was still too much to bear.

Look how revolting you are, the voice in his head said, viciously. Even Sam knows it now. He'll most likely leave your fat ass behind where you belong.

Bucky shook his head, as if that could dispel the voices in his head. It didn't work.

You are nothing, the voice screamed. You are worthless. Do you actually think Sam wants to be around you? You can't even EAT, you little bitch.

“Bucky?” Sam’s voice cut through the dark thoughts. “You okay?”

Bucky forced his eyes open, focusing on Sam’s worried expression. “Yeah, I’m just… tired,” he said, though the exhaustion he felt went far beyond the physical.

Sam studied him for a moment before nodding. “I get it. But you’ve got to let us help you. You’re not alone in this.”

Bucky wanted to believe that, but the voices in his head were relentless. He looked away, unable to meet Sam’s gaze. “It’s not that simple, Sam.”

“I know it’s not,” Sam replied gently. “But you’re stronger than you think. You’ve survived this long, and you’ll keep surviving. But you’ve got to start taking care of yourself.”

The sincerity in Sam’s voice chipped away at the walls Bucky had built around himself. He swallowed hard, fighting back the urge to retreat into his shell. “I’ll try,” he whispered again, the words feeling heavy on his tongue.

Sam nodded, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “That’s all I’m asking, Buck. Just try. One step at a time.”

Bucky closed his eyes again, letting Sam’s words sink in. Maybe he could try. Maybe, with time, he could start to push back against the darkness that had been consuming him for so long.

A soft knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. Bucky looked up to see a nurse entering the room with a tray of food. The sight of it made his stomach clench with anxiety, but he forced himself to take a deep breath.

“Mr. Barnes, it’s important you eat something,” the nurse said kindly, placing the tray on the table beside his bed.

Bucky glanced at Sam, who gave him an encouraging nod. “Just a little,” Sam said. “You’ve got to start somewhere.”

With trembling hands, Bucky reached for the tray. The food looked unappetizing, but he knew he had to try. He picked up a piece of bread, forcing himself to take a small bite. It felt like swallowing sand, but he managed to get it down.

“There you go,” Sam said, his voice filled with pride. “One step at a time.”

Bucky nodded, chewing slowly. The voices in his head were still there, but for the first time in a long while, he felt a glimmer of hope. Maybe he could do this. Maybe he could start to heal.

As he took another bite, he glanced at Sam, who was watching him with a mixture of relief and determination. Bucky knew he had a long road ahead, but with Sam by his side, he felt like he could face whatever came next.

“Thanks, Sam,” he said softly, and for the first time, he allowed himself to believe that things could get better.

Sam smiled, reaching out to squeeze Bucky’s shoulder. “Anytime, Buck. We’re in this together.”

And for the first time, Bucky truly believed it.

[lcvebucky]

i miss my lover, man // stevebucky angst

pairing: steve x bucky

chapter: 2/3

summary: “Don’t forget Steve” is all that goes through his head as he is strapped to the chair. “Don’t forget Steve” is that that goes through his head as the machine whirs to life. “Don’t forget Steve” is all that goes through his head as they shout orders at him, scream so loudly he flinches. He knows that he’s going to lose his memories, knows that one day, he will forget everything. He can’t even seem to remember his name now. The only name he remembers is Steve’s, and he is desperate to hold onto it. Steve was someone he loved, once. He can’t seem to remember his face-- it’s all blurry.

or

Bucky suffers at the realization of what his hands have done as the Winter Soldier, drowning in guilt and depression. A journey to his recovery.

word count: 4.1k

follow me on ao3 @mikoilu

https://archiveofourown.org/works/54277762

The asset throws the man in front of him inside, stopping only when several guns are pointed at him. He pauses, breathing heavily.

One of HYDRA’s men, Alexander Pierce, walks in. “Mission report,” he demands angrily.

The asset does not answer. All he can think about is the name the mission called him. Bucky. Bucky. Bucky. Why does it sound so familiar? The word echoes in his brain, reverberating and jumping around. There’s something he’s missing, something…

“Mission report, now,” The man repeats, walking forward.

The asset stays silent, eyes glazed over and haunted. He receives a lash from the Alexander. It stings, but hardly registers. It’s just barely enough to bring his attention to the man.

“The man on the bridge. Who was he?” He says quietly. Broken. He is broken into a million shards and this strange, strange man calling him Bucky fits together.

“You met him earlier this week on another assignment,” Alexander Pierce says calmly, but the asset knows he is lying.

“I…knew him,” He whispers.

Alexander sighs and takes a seat down. “Your work has been a gift to mankind—” His words blur out as the asset’s ears ring to the point of pain. Bucky Bucky Bucky. He remembers faintly, trying to remember something. Someone. What was his name? He can’t seem to place it, can’t seem to clear the fog in his brain.

“But I knew him.”

The muscles in Alexander’s jaw tightens. Wrong answer, the asset thinks. “Prep him.”

“He’s been out of cryo freeze too long.”

“Then wipe him and start over.”

At those words, the asset’s heart drops. But no, he has learned to not feel fear. The asset does not feel. He swallows his terror as they push him back on the bed, a bit harshly.

The moment the machine whirs to life, he starts to panic. Hyperventilating, a sign of weakness. His chest rises and falls as the machine clicks to his face. This is what the asset was made for, a lab rat to be tested. He should not protest, accept it without hesitation.

The sound of his anguished screaming fills the chambers.

++

The next thing he remembers is fighting. He’s locked in battle with his mission, who remains stubbornly on the defensive, never lashing out.

“Bucky,” the mission pants. “You know me.”

His head feels like it’s going to split in two at the sound of that wretched name. “No, I don’t!” he shouts angrily, hitting him across the face.

The goddamn man gets back up again, refusing to stay down. “Bucky…” he breathes. “You’ve known me your whole life.”

No. No. No. Stop saying that.

“Your name is James Buchanan Barnes,” the man says between heavy breaths.

“Shut up!” The asset screams, backhanding him.

The mission gets up again. “I’m not gonna fight ya,” he pants, dropping his shield. “You’re my friend.”

Friend.

Mission.

Friend.

Mission.

“You’re my mission,” The asset bites out angrily, “You’re. My. Mission!” he screams in between punches. With each draw of his fist, he should feel better. Yet all it does is make him feel worse.

“Then finish it…” The mission manages to say. “‘Cause I’m… with you to the end of the line…” He gasps out in between heavy breaths. His face is banged up from the Winter Soldier’s metal arm, and the sight should satisfy him, yet all it does is twist his stomach horribly.

The ground lurches beneath them, and the glass falls beneath his feet. The mission tumbles to the ground.

The Winter Soldier hangs on, watches his fall. He feels like a piece of his heart is wrenched out of his soul.

++

Steve wakes up to the sound of Trouble Man. He’s hooked up to a bunch of machines in an unfamiliar setting.

“We need… we need to find Bucky,” he says, trying to get up.

“Woah woah woah,” Sam says. “Calm down, Cap. Bucky is safe. He’s in the other room right now. Natasha knocked him out ‘cause he kept trying to kill us all.”

“…How?” Steve groans. His neck is killing him right now, and it’s taking everything in him to speak.

“Well… about that. He actually… turned himself in,” Sam rubs the back of his neck awkwardly.

“What?!” Steve exclaims, sitting up all the way, much too fast.

“Something about… wanting to talk to “the mission.” But once people got too close to look at his wounds, he took down a couple of agents, so Nat had to sedate him. It took three times the normal amount to get him down— that man’s not human, no doubt. He should be up soon.”

There are so many questions he wants to ask, first of all being how did Nat stick a needle in the Winter Soldier without getting absolutely crushed? But that’s not important right now. He has to see Bucky. Steve moves his legs over to the side of the bed, ripping out the wires.

“Wait, you’re not cleared to go yet—” Sam protests, but Steve waves him off.

“I’ll be fine. Superhealing, remember? I’ve been worse,” Steve offers him a Captain America, winsome smile, which seems to convince Sam a little bit, because he doesn’t follow.

He asks a passing (nurse? agent? civilian?) where Bucky is held, and she points toward a door down the end of the hall. “Be careful, though,” she warns him in a slight Australian accent. “He just woke up, and he’s a little… unstable.”

Steve thanks her, ignoring the pit in his stomach. He pushes the door open. To his surprise, there is no guards in the room, other than two armed agents at the door. He’d expected much more security for a wanted war criminal.

“Hey, Bucky,” he says tentatively.

Bucky-not-Bucky sits on the edge of a bed. His hands are clasped together, and his leg is shaking up and down.

“I expected more… guards,” Steve tries to joke, lighten the situation.

“I took them out,” Bucky-not-Bucky says matter-of-factly, as if simply stating that the weather was nice today. “So they left.”

Typical. Steve approaches hesitantly and sits next to Bucky on the bed. To his surprise, the man doesn’t flinch away, doesn’t tackle him with his arm to Steve’s throat.

“Do you… remember?” Steve asks, trying not to sound too hopeful.

“They told me your name was Steve. Steve Rogers,” Bucky tells him quietly. His voice is so cold, so not Bucky, that Steve flinches.

“Yes,” Steve says slowly. “Do you…remember me?”

Bucky stops. Looks at him. “Steve,” he says. “Whoever it is you think I am… I’m not him. I don’t recall any memories of you. Whatever HYDRA did to me— it’s permanent. Whoever it was that you used to know: he’s gone.”

Steve has been punched in the stomach many times in his lifetime, but none have hurt as much as this. He swallows, tries to give Bucky a smile. He fails miserably.

“That’s okay. Just… just don’t leave, ‘kay? Stay for a bit. HYDRA’s gone now, they won’t hurt you anymore. We… we have food, and clothes, and— ” He doesn’t realize he’s rambling until Bucky stops him.

“Okay.”

“—cell service, and…Wait, really?” Steve startles, trying not to sound too excited.

“Yeah,” Bucky says. Maybe once in a lifetime he would have given Steve a reassuring smile.

Not this one.

[sjsmith56]

Assignment Bucky Barnes, Chapter 31 - Face to Face

Summary: Bucky is sent to June 1943 to help intercept Mason. First, he has to stop someone else from the future from making a big mistake.

Length: 4.1 K

Characters: Bucky, Peri, Mrs. Houseman, Merton, OFC (Barnes descendant)

Warnings: Historians are flawed humans, just like everyone else.

Author notes: I wanted Bucky the chance to meet one of his descendants.

<<Chapter 30

The presence of the two women, a tall redhead and a shorter brunette, were a big surprise to Bucky when he stepped out of the portal, still grasping the redhead's arm.  When he had last seen the attractive redhead in the way she looked now, it had been a one-night stand in 1940.

"Pearl ... Peri," he said to her.  "How is it possible?"

"I explained it before about taking years off," she said.  "I'm not the same Peri that you met in Sam's living room.  I'm from another 30 years beyond that Peri.  My identity is now Paulina, and I infiltrated the headquarters of Lowell Pierce Mason."  She noticed he seem startled at the name.  "Yes, he is a descendent of Alexander Pierce, through his daughter.  He's the leader of Phoenix, the current incarnation of HYDRA.  I think you remember Victoria."

The shorter woman came forward and Bucky's mouth opened as he saw the head librarian of the Greenpoint branch of the Brooklyn Public Library.

"Mrs. Houseman?  You're a historian?"

"I was," she said, glancing at Paulina, "until I ended up here during a time when the historians lost contact with headquarters.  Fortunately, I knew where to find Merton, and he gave me a place to live while he helped me get a job at the library.  Then I met Edward and chose to stay."

"Now that we have that reunion finished, we need to talk," said Paulina, getting down to business.  She gestured around her as Bucky noticed they were in a sparsely furnished apartment.  "You and I will stay here in this flat.  Merton will be joining us soon as we need him to distract someone while we intercept Mason, the doppelgänger May Weatherly, and a third person."

"Do you know who the third person is?" asked Bucky.

"Yes, but before I tell you I think you should know something."  She looked hesitant to continue until Victoria spoke.

"He should know," she said.  "She is family."

"It's one of your descendants," said Paulina.  "She's only 19 and had infiltrated Mason's headquarters on her own.  I should have stopped her, but I didn't even see her until the day Ariel was rescued.  I was on my back, bleeding from a gunshot wound and she was angry, almost out of control.  She followed the other two here to kill them but if she does that she'll be arrested on her return to the future on several charges of unlawful death.  If we can stop her first and send her back, she'll only face misdemeanour charges.  A slap on the wrist would be her punishment."

"What's her name?" asked Bucky, curious. 

The two women glanced at each other again and grimaced.

"Peri," said Paulina, finally.  "She's named after one of her ancestors."

"So, you're family as well?" asked Bucky in a cynical manner.  "I'm not moving a muscle until you tell me the truth, Paulina."  He put a harsh emphasis on her name.  "For all of your claims of objectivity you seem to have interfered a lot in this timeline.  Why?  What the hell was so important that you did all of this?"

Victoria stepped forward and placed a hand on Bucky's arm.  "You have every right to be angry but remember that historians are still human.  We love, we hate, and we sometimes make decisions that make sense at the time then we try to make amends for our mistakes.  Sound familiar?"

"What is that supposed to mean?" he asked her, slightly calmer but still irritated.

"I'm Ariel's birth mother," said Paulina.  "Merton is her birth father.  She was conceived by IVF because I wanted the perfect historian to study you, one who could have a relationship with you and find out what really made you tick.  You are such an enigma to history, even with your notoriety.  Before the war your behaviour was such a mystery, openly courting and sleeping with many women cementing a reputation as a lothario, not being involved in anything more than casual relationships, yet you stayed quiet about your conquests.  Why was that Bucky?"

"None of your business," he responded, his ire up at her turning this on him.  "So, Ariel knew she was your homegrown spy?"

"No, she didn't know," interrupted Victoria.  "Peri and Merton were found out, and almost kicked out of the guild for their plan.  The chair wanted the pregnancy terminated but relented when it was suggested that Ariel be raised by an adoptive parent, with no knowledge of her parentage.  Peri asked me and I agreed as I wasn't ready to go back to the past anytime soon after my last assignment.  I raised Ariel as my daughter under my real name, Skye Paxton, until she was 16."

"Skye was declared dead when the Reapers, Lowell Mason's first terrorist group destroyed the historian's headquarters," said Peri.  "She was on duty in the portal room along with six others.  To save their lives, one person sent the others back a year, except the explosion that destroyed the facility affected the stability of the portal.  Skye was sent back to 1928, and became younger in the process.  She sought out Merton and for a year none of our resident historians could contact us and we couldn't contact them."

"Why would Mason destroy the building?  That sounds like the actions of a madman.  Why wasn't he arrested then?" 

"I was chair by then, not an easy process after you've spent almost 16 years in subordinate positions," replied Paulina.  "I had just authorized a sanction on a young woman, a true believer of Mason's ideology, who was being trained to seduce you into impregnating her.  It was always about your genetics, Bucky.  The Winter Soldier worked because of your genetic makeup and Mason wanted an army of your descendants for HYDRA to take over the world after World War II.  Somehow, he found out about Ariel early on and began training his own daughter to do what Ariel was supposed to.  After I sanctioned his daughter, he went mad with revenge, but he managed to do it without leaving evidence, all while recruiting followers from his university political science teaching position.  He found May Weatherly, seducing her at a young age."  She noticed the look of disgust on Bucky's face.  "Oh yes, he is degenerate in more ways than one.  With one of his followers on the guild council he was able to get her into the program.  When I reinstated the assignment on you, she was in serious consideration for it, but Ariel's abilities were too much for anyone else to be considered.  It wasn't nepotism that had her assigned to you, it was her own qualifications and thoroughness."

"So where does Peri Barnes, I assume that is her name, fit in?" he asked. 

"She's a bit of a rebel," smiled Paulina.  "For the past year she was supposed to be in training for the Avengers.  They are still a force to be reckoned with.  As a descendant she does have super soldier capabilities.  Then she suddenly went AWOL.  No sign of her until she appeared shortly before the raid on Mason's building.  Once she ascertained I was alright she left me, after calling for a medic.  The force that came to rescue Ariel learned that three people came back to this time, Mason, Weatherly, and after some hacking into their security cameras, Peri Barnes.  I can only assume she intends to kill both of them.  They can't be killed in this timeline; they need to face charges in theirs.  We have to find Peri before she puts herself on a road to ruin."

"What date is it today?" he asked.  "We have to find her before Steve gets transformed, right?"

"Yes, we do," confirmed Paulina.  "It's Saturday, June 19, 1943.  His transformation is Tuesday, the 22nd and he'll return to his flat later that afternoon to pack in preparation for Senator Brandt's war bonds tour.  We're expecting May to be there, waiting for him, dosed with a pheromone booster.  Merton is going to intercept Steve before he gets to his flat, take him for a drink, dinner, whatever he has to in order to delay him.  Us three will deal with May and Mason, as he'll be nearby to make sure it happens.  Peri will likely try to take them at the same time, but I would rather find her before then, before there's a chance she can make things worse."

"Is the location of Steve's flat common knowledge in the future?" asked Bucky.  "I could always stake it out and watch for anyone who doesn't belong there.  I'm pretty sure I can see them before they see me."

The two women looked at each other and agreed it was probably a task that Bucky would be better suited for.  Paulina was still recuperating from her gunshot wound and would be using a modern medical kit to speed up the healing process.  Victoria had taken several days off from work, using vacation hours and leaving the former Miss Warren in charge until her expected return on June 23.  In this timeline Ariel had only left just days before, still reeling from young Bucky's betrayal, a fact the older version was very well aware of.  When Merton arrived with some groceries the two men shook hands, and he confirmed Paulina's account of Ariel's rescue in 2142.  While Victoria and Paulina went into her bedroom to continue her medical treatment Merton raised a small brown paper bag to Bucky.

"Drink?" he asked.

Bucky nodded and put the groceries away while Merton poured out two glasses of whiskey. 

"I know what Ariel is to you," said Bucky as the historian handed him his glass, "and to Paulina."

"You must think we're terrible people," replied Merton.  "I wanted to tell her so many times."

"At least you were there for her, after I messed things up," countered the solemn super soldier.  "I'm not really angry.  Hell, I grew up with lots of kids whose mother was really their grandmother, raising her daughter's illegitimate child as her own.  People are human.  Some of her trauma about losing her parents was real, wasn't it?  Losing Skye at the age of 16, never knowing her father; even though what she told me was made up it wasn't that far removed from the truth."

"We try to keep traumatic events like that in the persona's life linked to a similar event in the historian's life," said the historian.  "Makes it more authentic.  We pushed her too hard for this one.  She wanted to marry you, wanted to stay and wait for you, even knowing you wouldn't return because she loved you that much.

Both men took another drink, then stared into their glasses.  "I don't think she loves me anymore," said Bucky, suddenly.  "She was so angry with me at Peri's apartment.  As long as she's safe I'll be happy with that and go back to 2024."

"Then you'll be giving up without a fight," replied Merton.  "That was her grief and anger talking.  She recognized Sam as the one of the men who rescued her and Rebecca in 1940.  Once he identified himself, she knew you were the other man and asked about you.  I think a week being held captive has tempered her feelings considerably about everything.  Knowing your partner, he likely had a good talk with her on the flight back to headquarters.  Paulina said her 2142 version told him everything, even things that I don't know, because I don't know everything.  I do know that when I get back, I'm going to tell Ariel who I really am because I still want to be part of her life, whether that's still in 2142 or 2024."

They continued drinking their whiskey as Bucky thought over what Merton said.  He was still thinking about it hours later when he approached Steve's flat.  Grinning as he found the spare key, he unlocked the door, put the key back, and quietly entered the small space, locking the door from the inside.  The memories of times spent there flooded his mind as he stepped onto the cracked linoleum floor and took in the darkened space, seeing the tiny icebox and cast-iron stove, the rickety countertop that hid the bathtub beneath it, a sink and a cupboard on the wall.  A small table for three was in front of a built-in sideboard filled with Steve's art supplies.  The bathroom was even smaller than he remembered it.  Considered a luxury to have a private one in those days, it came with a sink and toilet.  Then he saw what was considered the bedroom, with the same bed that he and Ariel slept in for three nights when he was back on leave at Christmas in 1942, so they could have time alone together.  Looking at it now it was indicative of just how poor Steve really was but for those three nights it was a haven for Ariel and him.

While his thoughts were filled with those moments, Bucky heard quiet footsteps coming up the stairs outside.  Stepping into position near the door he flattened himself against the wall, listening as the person located the key and inserted it in the lock.  Just like he did, the person replaced the key in its hiding place then opened the door carefully.  Aware of their heartbeat Bucky waited as the person hesitated at the door.  Calming himself, he felt his own heartbeat slow, and an icy sense of readiness filled his body.  As the door was closed behind the individual, he stepped forward, grasping their neck and pushing them against the wall.  With his other hand Bucky flipped the light switch and came face to face with a young dark-haired woman, with eyes as blue as his.  At first, she fought back with surprising strength, but as his gloved left hand tightened around her throat, her efforts slowed down, and she began to gasp.

"Who are you?" he asked.  "Why are you in Steve's flat?  I'll lessen my hold if you stop struggling and answer my questions.  Do you comply?"

Her eyes grew big, and she took a better look at him, at the dark hair and beard, and the dark eyes that were almost hidden under the cap he had pulled low over them. 

"I will comply," she sputtered, and Bucky released her throat but blocked her from leaving.  She rubbed where his hand had gripped and coughed a few times then stood up and looked at him with a confused expression.  "Who are you?"

"Answer me first," said Bucky.  "Then we'll talk."  He indicated for her to go in and sit at the table.  "Know that I can tell when a person is lying."

He observed her carefully as she approached the chair, watching as she glanced at the window in the bedroom, knowing that she was considering throwing herself through it.

"I can stop you before you even get to the window," he said, seeing the surprise on her face as he voiced it.  "Now sit, be a good girl, and tell me your name and why you're here."

As she sat, he pulled his chair over, placing it directly in front of her.  Then he took his cap off so she could see his face fully. 

"I don't understand," she began, but he frowned at her, and she nodded.  "My name is Peri Barnes, and I'm here to wait for the traitors to arrive.  It's my plan to stop them permanently."  She watched his face, looking for a reaction.  "Who are you?"

Smiling, Bucky took his left glove off, inwardly pleased at the reaction he got from her.  "I think you know."

"How do I know you're not one of Mason's future soldiers, sent on a mission to stop me?" she asked defiantly.  "You could be sent from the alternate timeline to make sure I don't succeed."

"Or I could be the original Bucky Barnes, changed slightly so I wasn't easily recognized by my family," he said.  "I could have been sent here to 1940 by Peri Wayne to make sure that Lowell Pierce Mason didn't kidnap Ariel Black and replace her with May Weatherly.  Then I could have been brought to this specific time to prevent her from seducing Steve Rogers after his transformation."

Peri's mouth opened, then closed and she swallowed.  "You're him?" she asked.  "The real one?  It's not in any historical documents that you were here."

"For good reason," he said, then he leaned forward.  "Were you planning to kill Mason and Weatherly?" Her face coloured but she stayed silent.  "So, you're planning to violate my most sacred promise to myself, to never kill again."

"But they deserve it!" she exclaimed, her anger surging out of her.  "He wants to bring back HYDRA and the Winter Soldier program.  When they failed with replacing Ariel they chose plan B, to get Steve Rogers to make May pregnant.  They recruited me, not aware of who I was because out in public I go by Patricia Warden."  She noticed the look on his face.  "Everyone wants to be friends with a member of the famous Barnes family.  I just wanted to be accepted for who I was."

"I believe you," he said gently.  "Peri, you being here has placed our mission in jeopardy.  I'm here with three others and we plan to take Mason and Weatherly into custody and return them to 2142 for a very public trial."

"They deserve to die," she replied bluntly, her face set. 

He nodded.  "Killing them would satisfy you briefly but taking a life is not an easy thing.  Since I left HYDRA I've killed a handful of people, only as a last resort when I had no other choice.  Their deaths still bother me.  It sounds to me like you've appointed yourself judge, jury, and executioner.  Sounds like what HYDRA did when I was their Fist."

"It's different," she spat.  "I'm not trying to take over the world.  I'm trying to make it right."

"By ruining your life in the process?"  He looked intently at her.  "There's nothing right about that.  You'll throw everything away if you kill them.  Guild security will arrest you, put you on trial for causing unlawful deaths, and the Barnes name will be associated with a killer, once more.  Have you learned nothing about what lengths I went through to leave the killing behind?"

Her lips began to tremble, and she put her hands to her mouth to suppress the sob that threatened to erupt.  As tears began forming in her eyes, Bucky shifted to put his chair beside her so he could put his arm around her.  The dam of tears broke, and she buried her face in his chest, crying profusely.  Reaching into his pocket he took out his handkerchief and offered it to her.  She chuckled when she saw it which helped her stop crying. 

"It's a family legend that you always carried one of these," she said, after cleaning the tears off of her face.  "A clean one at that."

"I always have one to offer a lady in distress," he answered.  "So, you're my what ... great great granddaughter?"

She nodded.  "I'm descended from your oldest son, Sam, although I guess I shouldn't have said that.  I'm not good at keeping things under wraps.  Probably, why I'm flunking out of the Avengers."

"Is there a reason you chose that profession instead of something else?" he asked.

"I'm a screw up," she said, then she took a deep breath.  "Thought I was representing the family tradition, although I could have gone into libraries, or history, or antiques.  I just wanted to make my mark; you know?"

He did know and he squeezed her shoulder.  "Listen, I worked on the docks, had dreams of being a pro boxer, and even took a course in technical drawing when I had the idea that I could be a draftsman, or an architect.  I didn't want to go to war, but I found that I didn't mind being a soldier.  Not the killing part, but the planning and organization of missions.  Being part of a unit, they become like family to you and protecting that family becomes part of the job.  When I was finally free to set my own life I floundered, lived on my pension, and had nightmares all the time.  Working with Sam Wilson and starting the Avengers up again felt right and they accepted that my participation would not extend to killing, except under the most dire of circumstances."

"But what if I don't want to do anything that the family has done before?" she said.  "What else could I do?"

"Anything," he replied.  "Be a carpenter, be a writer, be a carnival barker."  She looked at him, confused.  "They don't have carnivals anymore?"  He shook his head, bothered by that.  "You're what 19?  You can try many things before you find what's right for you.  Be true to yourself and don't go down a path just because it's well worn.  Don't be afraid to choose something different."

"What now?" she asked, then nodded when she saw the expression on his face.  "You're going to send me back, aren't you?"  She stood up.  "Alright, my first arrest.  Hopefully, my last."

Bucky stood up beside her and hugged her, then placed the chairs back, exactly as they had been.  He took one more look around the flat and turned off the light as she opened the door.  While he waited, she found the key and locked the door from the outside, replacing the key in its hiding place.

"How did you know where to find that?" asked Bucky.

"I guess it was a story you told your kids and your grandkids, and it made its way down through the years," replied Peri.  

They walked down the steps of the building and out into the darkened street.  As they began walking Peri stepped up the pace.  When Bucky looked sideways at her, she raised her eyebrows and gestured forward with her head in the universal nonverbal language asking, "Wanna race?"  Before he could respond she took off, laughing while she opened a good lead against him.  With a grin he started running, easily catching up to her and for the remainder of the distance back to the other flat they ran side by side, feeling the exhilaration of how effortless it was.

When they arrived back at the other flat, she recognized Merton and Paulina.  They both assured her she wasn't in serious trouble.  It would likely be enough to get her kicked out of the Avengers, considering she went AWOL to come back in time illegally.

"That's okay," replied the younger Peri.  "I wasn't really cut out for it, anyways.  Grandpa here made me realize I didn't have to follow anyone's path but my own."

"As long it's legal," clarified Bucky.  "And don't call me Grandpa.  You know you have to keep this quiet.  I'm not supposed to be here."

Paulina offered her a handshake.  "Thank you for knocking out the one who shot me," she said.  "How did you know I was undercover?"

"I didn't," said Peri.  "Not until I heard Mason order the guy to take you out, that you were a traitor to the cause.  He was a lousy shot.  Where did Mason find those people, anyways?  Most of them were complete amateurs."

"There are always people who feel disenfranchised," said Merton.  "People like Mason use them to advance their own purposes.  He fills their minds with messages that they are special and needed to implement change.  As soon as he gets what he wants from them he discards them.  His trial will show him for the pedlar of lies that he really is."

The sound of a portal opening distracted them as Victoria adjusted the controls on her device.  Shyly Peri offered her hand to Merton, whispering that she knew who he was.  He pulled her into a hug, whispering back that they would talk on his return.  Then she looked at Paulina, who just nodded, still keeping her professional distance.  Finally, she faced Bucky.  Before she could say anything he hugged her and kissed her on the forehead.

"Stay on the right path for you," he said. 

Smiling grimly, she turned towards the portal and stepped inside.  When the signal arrived that she was safely through Victoria shut it down and the four looked at each other.  It was late and they had many preparations to make before Tuesday.  Even though Mason and Weatherly were the most recent believers from the future they didn't know how many of Mason's followers were still in the past.  Everything could still go very wrong, changing the future in the process.

Chapter 32>>

Series Masterlist

Comments and reblogs would be greatly appreciated.

[knownflyingobject]

Hydra's Love

Murkiness is my nest. The swamp dearer than my Mother's embrace, sweet Hera. Her words a lash upon my iron skin, I've known nothing better in this place.

It's made me bitter.  But for what I must do, she raised me well. I slither beneath the tree by day, by night on Lerna I rain hell. 

Waiting, waiting. For him. For it is only him that I live for. I long to see his naked, brute face. Heracles, I think, was the name he bore.

I rest among the roots. My puny brothers chatter, I ignore them.  There is shuffling above ground? If I cared enough, another human would now meet its end glum. 

They won't calm. I am annoyed! I begin to rage.  How dare they disrupt my rest! But as I hear their whispers, I stop to think: mother would make me engage.

To train, she'd say.  I am not given another moment to think for smoke enters my sanctuary. Enraged, I emerge, and in disbelief I freeze and blink.

There he was. This man. This stature. A gorgeous sample. Ruining my garden. His gaze does not waver.  He is here for me. Must he my pathways trample?

My brothers prevail. What was a weak creature in my sight is now a blood smear as raised instincts kick in and we attack. Mine! My own! I coil around his rear. 

Only to be blinded by pain. With a flash of light, my brothers are gone.  I despair; I feel weak. I call to Mother like a fawn.

Coward! Calls Hera. As if she were right around the corner.  Yet she sees my struggle and calls on a crab of all things. The ultimate form, yet to me a complete foreigner.

How do I collaborate? Heracles did not hesitate. My help met its end under his mighty foot. Familiar annoying hissing. My brothers are back twofold! My failures I can now amend.

He stops now. Unsure. Whistles. Why are human sounds so weird? And so powerful? He summoned another like a god. Ioalus, he called him. Flash and Fire appeared.

I wail. I scream. I am in agony of agonies. I want my muddy bed. They slash us. They burn us.  Soon I am the last remaining head.

I fought valiantly. I wish to confess my admiration. Closer he steps. Did he really notice the love in my eyes? All I see is, wielding the shine, his glistening biceps.

I'm thrust into soil. Not moist, but familiar. No longer can I roar.  He's leaving, I failed, and I'm alone. But my blood on his arrows will protect him forevermore.

[crossover-enthusiast]

HITTING YOU WITH MORE CHARACTERS FOR THE AU!!! /silly

Long post :P

Dexter: A rat king. I know that this is a real phenomenon and not exactly a monster but hear me out: Dexter is literally ALL the rats in town, he can see and move through their bodies, he can also make several of them group together inside his exterminator suit to try to imitate a human form. It has its advantages but Dexter is one of those who have the worst time with his curse.

Bob: Wendigo (a creature so associated with cannibalism was perfect for Bob) is much more violent now and is always on the lookout for new humans who may come to town. With the exception of the protagonists (Ivan, Maurice, etc.) he was the one who killed most of the humans who came to town.

Hatzgang: Merged into a hydra/chimera. I was thinking of something similar to Falin from Dungeon mesi with branching necks connecting their human torsos to the Big body.

They are one of the most aggressive monsters (especially Roy), but it is also easy to defeat them since all they have to do is argue each other to distract them.

Jaune: A mermaid, quite wild and aggressive. Sings to attract all kinds of creatures to the lake and, well, devour them. Lila looks familiar to her but she doesn't remember why.

Aaron: Captain of a ghost ship. Similar to Frank's train, but in his case he only travels across the lake and does not force anyone to join his crew (of which by the way Liv is a member), he spends his nights trying to find Jaune but the curse keeps them separated.

Richard: Harpy, he flyes through the skies of the town looking for any information that may be useful to Carmen. He is along her the king of the mountains.

OOOOOO

Oh my god I love all of these

Dexter literally being 20 rats in a trench coat (or exterminator suit rather) is SO cool!! Also really funny. I like how it also parallels him with his mom, she can flawlessly assume a human form while Dexter, uh... He's trying his best. Him being able to control all the rats is rad too!

Yeah Bob being a wendigo sounds about right. I imagine Ivan has encountered him at least once and has him as top priority on the "find a way to kill/avoid at all costs" list

Immediate thought is the Ceberus Hatz from the SM 6 credits -- usual depictions of chimeras have one head as a lion, another as a goat, and the third as a snake, though looking (briefly) at old art, swapping the snake with a dragon's head wasn't out of the question. I'm gonna assume Roy's the lion, Robert's the goat, and Ross is the snake/dragon (probably snake bc Aaron)

Siren Jaune!!! I love that! Could probably be some cool fish to base her on too-- don't have much to say but her not remembering Lila- aw :[

Also- Oh my god Captain Aaron. That is so cool! I also love how that kind of sets him as a foil to Frank, since while they're both the heads of ghost vessels, Frank kidnaps people and just has the train in mind, while Aaron just has his own funky little crew that willingly came aboard and is trying to find his wife. And then he's never able to find her awww :[

I love the detail of Liv being with him too, she so would. Makes me think of the HH all being split up into different parts of the town

Oooo harpy Richard! Don't have much to say about him either, but I like how he's very much serving Carmen despite being king. Also the mental image I got of Richard as a harpy made me laugh lmao

[imawreck]

Ballroom

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/WinterSoldier x Original Character

Summary: Tony throws an extravagant fundraiser

Warnings: flashbacks, gross men, mild steamy thoughts

Word Count: 5,565

Max-

Bucky let me lead the way to the meeting where we both took a seat at the table, eyeing Tony who sat at the head with a man standing off to his right behind him. Tony didn't look very pleased to be there, but the man looked the exact opposite. I recognized him from the carnival, the man who hid himself so poorly behind the tent. There was something off about him, his face was too familiar to me. No matter how hard I tried to recall him, I just couldn't.

My thoughts were interrupted by Tony, "Due to recent events and the rise in Hydra activity, Shield has sent us a few extra hands to help with security. Specifically for our ex-Hydra friends." Tony nodded in Bucky and I's direction and continued, "This is Agent Rumlow, he will be watching over the two of you when you leave the tower. I know it isn't ideal, but orders are orders and not even I can refuse them."

There was a mutual groan that resonated through the room as all the avengers let their features settle into those of distaste.

I frowned, Bucky and I hardly needed a monitor. We were assassins, the worlds most feared to be exact.

"Anyways, the point of this meeting was to notify you that I will be hosting a fundraiser this evening. All of you should find suitable attire and attend. More information has been sent to you regarding the details. Dismissed." With that, Tony exited the room with Rumlow in tow, who threw me a wink that sent waves of discomfort through me. There was a cacophony of groans, though I wasn't sure it was because of Shield's orders or Tony's love for 'fundraisers'. Perhaps both.

I shook my head, turning towards Bucky next to me. "Does Rumlow look familiar to you?" I found his eyes glued to where the agent in question had just left before they flickered down to my own.

"No, but I'm not a fan of him." There was an underlying tone of what sounded like anger laced through his words, but I decided to ignore it. Shield orders weren't always fun to work with.

I sighed, dragging myself out of the chair and shrugging my shoulders in a stretch. "I think I'm going to head to breakfast if you'd like to join me?" It was a reach, but I had wanted to spend more time with Bucky. I couldn't get enough of him no matter how much of my time was spent in his presence. He was a light, a pillar of comfort and strength, of protection and happiness, that I desperately craved.

Bucky shot me a smile, "Why of course, doll. I wouldn't miss it for the world." He stood from his chair to join me and I was reminded just how large he was. His towering height, several feet taller than my own, caused him to have to bow his neck to look at me. His shoulders filled the doorframe as we exited the room, and despite his size his footsteps were as silent as ever. I was constantly amazed by him.

The two of us enjoyed our breakfast together, talking and laughing. I hadn't realized how long it had been until I tore my eyes from him to peer around the commons room. We were the only ones in the room and the clock read 10:00 A.M. We had been talking for almost three hours. I glanced back at Bucky after I heard his chair scrape against the floor and watched as he walked over and dumped our plates into the sink. Lucky for the both of us, it wasn't our chore day and Sam was doomed instead.

"I think I should go figure out what to wear to this event Tony has planned for us."

This seemed to catch his attention as he turned around to lean himself against the countertop. Bucky seemed to hesitate before he spoke to me. "Have you thought about who you want to go with?"

I shook my head slowly, "No, I just thought I would go and mingle for a bit. Lots of people make me antsy." Bucky nodded at my answer but his shoulders slumped slightly.

"Would you change your mind if someone were to ask you?"

I raised a brow at him, watching as his eyes dropped to his hands as he tried to find something else to look at. "I might, if it's the right person."

At my answer, his turbulent eyes met mine again. "The right person?"

I nodded, picking at my nails to tease him with the silence. "Someone tall, dark, and handsome."

"Sounds like you've already have someone in mind." The smile on Bucky's face grew ever so slightly, "Does this guy got a name?"

The joy flickering in his eyes only spurred me on further. "Oh he has many, and he's the kindest man I know. He can dance too. I would love to dance with him again." I sighed, adding to the drama. "Unfortunately I don't think he will ask me."

Bucky's face was covered in a full blown smirk, his eyes sparkling. "Come on, doll, he'd be a fool not to." He pushed off of the counter and meandered towards me. His feet stopped just in front of me, close enough for my knees to brush against the front of his thighs from where I sat in chair. He leaned his arm against the bar, eyes solely focused on me. I was captivated as he moved his left hand to brush his cold fingers behind my ear, situating a loose strand of hair. "Max," my heart stalled at the softness in his voice, "Would you accompany me to Tony's extravagant fundraiser tonight?"

I could hardly contain myself, trying desperately to find my voice. Once I did, I nodded. "Yes," I breathed, unable to force my voice any louder. Bucky chuckled, dropping a sweet kiss to my forehead. It surprised me in a good way, and I couldn't hide the flush of red that danced across my cheeks. He laughed, the sweetest sound I'd ever heard, and began backpedaling out of the commons room with a smile splitting his face.

"I'll be at your door by 8."

_____

I could hear my heart still  pounding in my ears an hour after he left.

Natasha and Pepper joined me after a quick text filling them in on the recent events. Natasha was practically foaming at the mouth, begging me to tell her the details. Pepper on the other hand respectfully smiled and listened to what I wished to tell them. I really liked Pepper, and it blew my mind that she could put up with Tony like she did.

"That was all that happened, Nat." I finished telling her, watching as her shoulders slumped and her eyes rolled.

"You two are going to be the death of me. Everyone in the tower can practically see the tension between you two. Why don't you just ask him out?"

I shrugged, "We've gone on one date Nat. No matter what other history we have, we hardly know each other enough to date. Plus, I don't think Bucky is comfortable with the thought, the last thing I want to do is run him off."

Pepper hummed in agreement at my side, having joined Nat and I on the bed. "Bucky has a lot of trauma on his plate, he needs someone that is patient with him the way you are."

Her words warmed my heart and I sent a smile her way in thanks. "I'm nervous for tonight." I balled my hands in the sheet below me, "I haven't been to something like this in a while and I don't know if I can remember how to dance. I haven't even looked at the details yet."

Both Natasha and Pepper shared a knowing look, smiles crawling onto their faces. It made me worry, deeply. "What did I miss?"

Natasha shrugged, the smile still plastered on her face. "Oh nothing, just that the event is set in the 40's when your beloved Sergeant was in his prime."

My eyes blew wide as Pepper added with her, "Tony thought since three out of all the Avengers had actually lived during that time that the event might be a little more fun."

My heart stalled, "T-the 40's?"

Suddenly I was thrown back in time, back into a body that was my own in an age I wasn't sure I wanted to remember or not. It was nightfall and the Hydra base I lived in was quiet save for the crickets that chirped under the moonlight. I sat outside the back door, having snuck out into the cold night to escape the screams of the prisoners held inside. It was moments like these that I really resented myself. The guilt of what I have done, what I would continue to do, devoured a part of my soul that could never be recovered. It was 1945, about the middle of October, and a new asset had been captured. I had seen him just once, and the pain and fear in his eyes had nearly killed me. I was a scientist of sorts, smart enough to build capsules to contain super soldiers like the Captain. But I was trained too, one of the best in Hydra. I remember sitting in the snow though, as I remembered his shouts of pain. Begging and begging them to stop.

I was pulled out of my head by a hand on my shoulder and Pepper's gentle voice, "Max?"

I jumped, flinching away from her touch and trying to collect myself from my memory, "Sorry." I didn't know what I was apologizing for exactly but neither of them questioned it. I tried to fight against the waves of panic I was feeling, a result of delving too far into the past. I was worried that Bucky's memory of his time would be as unpleasant as my own. "What do I need to wear?"

Pepper smiled, "I have just the thing."

_____

It was 7:45 by the time the two of them had finished dolling me up. I felt clean and... and pretty. It was a rare feeling, and I was pleasantly shocked by it.

Pepper had slipped me into a simple black and white polka-dotted dress with a shallow V-cut neckline. The material was loose and flowing, only clinging to my skin in the most attractive ways. Cinched waist and a flowing skirt. Natasha had once again lent me a pair of heels. These were much taller than the others but comfortable enough for me to walk without a concern for falling.

I had bought myself a perfume all those months back, when the Super Soldiers and I first ventured out of the tower on our shopping trip. It wasn't frilly or too strong, and I had grabbed it just because I had enjoyed the way it smelled on the woman who I watched spray it on herself a mere few feet in front of me. I didn't like to buy things that were unnecessary.

I sprayed some on myself and finished applying light makeup like I used to in the day. Makeup was the only thing the two women didn't know about in the 40's. I had chosen a dark lipstick, burgundy red, as I was uncomfortable with the signature bright crimson usually worn that would no doubt be on every single woman at the event. I curled my lashes and applied some liner, finishing the look off with some mascara. Natasha had styled my hair in big waves, leaving it down and framing my face. I turned to them once I had finished my evaluation, "How do I look?"

Natasha winked, "Like you'll knock his pants off."

I let out a burst of laughter, blaming the nerves bubbling in my stomach. "Thanks, Nat."

Pepper nodded, shooting me a sincere smile. "You look wonderful."

I returned her smile, "Thank you for helping me. I owe you both."

There was a sharp knock at the door and all three of us shared an equally excited and startled look. Pepper ushered me to the door and the two of them opened it and slipped out, smiling at whoever was on the other side. I heard Natasha's voice echo down the hall, "Keep your hands respectful Barnes, she's breathtaking."

I opened the door wider, finally gathering the courage to glance up at him. His head was still turned as he spoke, "I'm a little early so if you need a few more min- Oh wow." Bucky's bright eyes found mine and his face lit up in surprise. I watched as his eyes took in my dress, all the way down to the glossy heels nervously tapping on the floor. The way he looked at me was soft, like I would disappear if he looked away for a split second. I watched him too, taking in his clean appearance and freshly shaven face. He wore a simple suit, black all the way down to his toes. His hair was pulled back and tied at his neck in a small little ponytail. Definitely not 40's, but fitting nonetheless. He looked absolutely charming. "You look beautiful doll, absolutely beautiful."

I couldn't help but smile, "You clean up great too. I like what you've done with your hair."

He laughed and butterflies erupted in my stomach, "Yeah, someone tied it up for me before and left me the hair tie. I figured I'd put it to good use." He held his arm out for me, "Shall we?"

I didn't hesitate to take his arm in my own, feeling his warmth seep into me from under his sleeve. It didn't take a genius to see that the both of us were nervous. Bucky put on a good face as we made our way towards the event, but the louder it got the more his smile seemed to lessen. I leaned into him the more crowded the halls got as I desperately tried to avoid touching anyone. I ran unnaturally cold, and I feared that if my skin were to touch anyone, they would cause a scene.

Taking note of my efforts, Bucky's arm dropped my own in favor of guiding me in front of him. He used himself as a sort of shield, keeping me in front of him as he gently wove us between bodies. I was grateful for his efforts.

The music that played was upbeat and old, but in a sort of way that almost soothed me. Bucky guided us over to the bar and away from most of the people beginning to sway. Everyone was dressed nicely, their dates smiling and twisting around on the dance floor. I had never learned the dance of the time, too busy with Hydra to have a chance to immerse myself in the norm. I envied them, honestly.

Bucky's low voice brought me out of my thoughts, "Would you like to dance?"

I glanced between him and the people dancing elaborately on the marble floor. "I don't know how to dance like that." I shot him a sheepish smile, "I wasn't exactly free during this period. I hadn't started undercover missions yet."

He seemed to catch my gist, "You weren't allowed out?"

I shook my head, "No, not until later. After everything."

We let a silence settle over us for a few moments. It was deafening. I took a breath, still watching the bodies dance across the floor, before I turned back to him. "Teach me?"

Bucky's turbulent eyes met my own and a small smile pulled itself back onto his face, "Of course." He offered me his palm and I took it gratefully, making our way through the crowd.

Bucky was always so gentle with me. He was gentle in the way he touched me, talked to me. He was gentle in the way he looked at me. It made me feel safe and cared for. A feeling so foreign to me ever since I could recall.

Bucky pulled me in, speaking low in my ear as he coached me through the steps. "You're going to move your feet just like this," he maneuvered his feet quickly to the beat but clearly so I could catch on.

I mimicked his steps albeit a bit clumsier.

He grinned, "Good job, now you just do that every time the beat sounds like that and then I spin you out like this." His flesh hand took my own, carefully spinning me outward before he pulled me back in and engulfed me in his arms.

I laughed, thrilled by the feeling of his body against my own and the sway of our bodies with the music.

"You're a natural, doll."

Bucky moved himself quite gracefully despite his size. It was mind boggling to watch, but pleasant too, seeing him so happy and relaxed. It was almost like he was slipping back into his element. I had heard he was a charmer from the talk around the tower every once and a while, when Steve would tell a story and I happened by. I would always try and listen when I could, enraptured by their time before the war. Steve's stories always sounded so wonderfully normal and untouched by the terrors of war and loss.

We danced wildly until the song changed its rhythm, Bucky swaying us both easily across the beats. I hummed, leaning against him and letting him lead. "Thank you for this. I would have to say it's one of my favorite memories, I'll never forget it."

He chuckled at that, drawing back to look me in the eyes. "You don't have to thank me."

I nodded, "I do actually. You do so much for me, defended me when I first got here and haven't stopped since. I wouldn't be here if it weren't for you, you know."

A sheepish smile curled upon his lips, and he pressed his warm fingers gently against my spine to pull me closer, "I'll always defend you."

I reached for his face, feeling his smooth skin against my palm. "I know you will. You're a good man, James, the best I've ever known."

Bucky's eyes lit up at the mention of his name, curling his fingers into the fabric at the back of my dress and pulling me into a bone crushing hug as the song came to an end. He held me there for a moment as we both enjoyed our moment in peace.

Until a cough shattered it.

"Hope I wasn't interrupting something important." Rumlow's low voice reached our ears and Bucky pulled himself away from me, holding me at arm's length. Rumlow stepped forward, "Could I borrow your date for a dance?"

I could practically feel the irritation rolling off of Bucky's stiff shoulders. He seemed to straighten at Rumlow's request, his body broadening as he stood to his full height. I had realized Bucky tended to make himself smaller around me, less threatening in the way his head always bowed or his shoulders caved inwards the slightest bit.

The song that had begun to play was more modern, probably for the guests to rest from the older more elaborate dances. I wouldn't have trouble keeping up with it. I glanced back at Bucky to find his questioning gaze already on me and I gave his left arm a quick squeeze as I stepped away from him. "Sure, just one."

Rumlow's smile grew and I couldn't help but feel a little unsettled by it. Bucky leaned down close enough for me to hear him over the music, "I'll get us some drinks. Just shout if you need me."

I nodded, letting my hand drop from his arm. He walked away, eyeing Rumlow as he left. Rumlow didn't seem fazed by it though, simply holding his hand out to me and pulling me in. "He's a real tough guy, huh?"

I nodded, not exactly thrilled to be dancing with him. "Bucky is complicated."

Rumlow swayed us around, his arms low on my back and drumming his fingers against my spine. "You two seem awfully close."

I raised a brow at him, "Yes, we are friends."

"You seem a lot closer than that." Rumlow tugged my body closer, bringing his face mere inches from my own. "Are you friends with benefits maybe? Surely you could get a man who really wanted to be with you for more than that."

I yanked myself from him, scowling, "We are done here, get lost."

He didn't take the hint, grappling for my arm and trying to pull me back against him. "Come on Sugar, just tell me if you're a free girl or not. I want a chance."

I wrapped my hand around his wrist, squeezing tightly enough to have his face morphing in discomfort. "I. Said. Get lost."

Suddenly there was a wall behind me, warm and secure. Arms knocked away my offenders hands as the mountain of muscle moved in front of me, blocking the man away from view. Bucky's voice was low and dangerous, "Leave." His hands stayed curled into fists at his sides as he stood rigid. Every inch of him screamed violence, yet he held himself together.

Rumlow threw up his hands, a smile still on his face. "Easy man, I was just talking with her. Can't help me for showing interest." His feet carried him backwards, but not before he leaned to the side just enough to meet my eyes and wink at me just as he had done in the meeting. A shiver ran down my spine and another tug of familiarity raced through my mind. Why was he so familiar to me?

Bucky didn't relax until Rumlow had disappeared through the crowd of bodies. Once he had, Bucky whipped around, scanning me for injuries or anything out of place that he could find. Once he was satisfied, he let out a breath of relief. "Are you alright?"

I nodded, too upset for words. Bucky seemed to catch on, gently taking my hand and leading me back over to the bar. He pulled the stool out for me and sat next to me, sliding my drink over in front of me. I took it gratefully, downing the liquid in a few sips. It burned all the way down, distracting me from the earlier events.

I might have been one of the most feared people out there, but it didn't seem to keep creeps away or the nerves that came with encounters such as that. I'm still human after all.

"Doll?"

I snapped my head over to him, eyes wide. "Yes?" His flesh hand covered over my own clutching the glass between my fingers, drawing my eyes to the damage. There was a distinct crack in the side and my hands were shaking. I pulled them into my lap and out of his reach, "Sorry."

Bucky shook his head, pulling his arm back to himself. "Whad'ya say we get outta here? Find somewhere a little quieter?"

I looked at him then, taking in the sincerity in his ocean blues. There was no dark intentions hidden within them, not like Rumlow. There was only safety. I found myself nodding and slipping off the stool. He followed, standing next to me and offering me his hand. I took it, letting him once again lead us out of the room. We slipped into the hallway and easily into the elevator. Both of us sighed as the doors closed behind us, enveloping us in a silence we seemed to yearn for. Neither of us spoke as the elevator lifted us, taking us up to my room.

I slipped out of the elevator as soon as the doors opened, easing at the empty rooms and the lack of noise once again. Bucky followed behind me just a few steps away. He walked me to my door, waiting for me to dismiss him for the night. I wasn't quite ready to let him go though, I only danced once with him this evening. I hadn't spent such a wonderful night solely with him and guilt had begun to lick at my stomach.

"Come in for a while? I owe you just a few more dances, don't I?" I was hopeful, too hopeful.

But of course, Bucky humored me with his kind smile and warm eyes. "Most definitely, I'm not letting you off that easily." The two of us slipped behind the door, Bucky easing it closed once we were inside. "Sit on the bed for a second."

I did as he told me, plopping onto the edge of the bed and watching as he kicked off his dress shoes beside the doorframe. He walked over to the only chair in the room and snagged the sweater he had given me off the armrest where I kept it the rare few times I wasn't wearing it.  He made a motion of raising his arms and I mimicked him, allowing him to slip the material over my head. I sighed in satisfaction, finally getting some semblance of warmth since I put on the dress. I tended to wear long sleeves or pants often due to my lack of body heat and it warmed my heart to realize that Bucky remembered the small fact.

He then knelt in front of me, slipping the heels off my feet and setting them at the edge of the bed. His eyes glanced up at me sheepishly, "I heard some girls at the bar talking about how uncomfortable they could be and figured you'd feel the same."

I laughed, "They really are dreadful." There was a swell of happiness in my soul at the grin he reciprocated at my words.

"Shall we?" Bucky lifted his hand to me, allowing me to take it and tug me from the bed and out towards the balcony attached to the room. I never used it, too cold for me as the fall began to set in. Bucky called to Friday, and the AI seemed to know exactly what he wanted as music began to trickle into my room. "Just follow my lead, you'll be a professional in no time."

We danced for hours.

I didn't know how he put up with my lack of skill or the amount of times I stumbled and caught his toes. He would just laugh, easing me back into the music and coaching me along until I had the moves down to heart. Bucky would swing me out, spin me around, and dip me low one moment before he had us swing into the next move. It was wonderful and thrilling, the room filled with our laughter and teasing. I had never felt more alive than in that moment. Never felt so happy than with him. I never wanted to let it go.

Of course, every day has to come to an end. Ours so happened to be 2 A.M. when Stark notified us that our music was 'atrociously loud and your laughter is grating against my eardrums three floors down.' We had just laughed and turned off the music, sending Friday back with an apology.

Once we had caught our breath, we made our way back into the bedroom and shut the balcony door. Bucky's hair had loosened some and strands of brown hair tickled the sides of his face and framed his jaw. I was reminded once more how beautiful he was.

"Thank you for tonight, I've never had this much fun."

Bucky smiled, brushing a strand away from his face. "Any time, I had a blast."

A silence engulfed us then, neither of us really wanting to leave. I struggled to think of something else to say, to keep him here a moment longer. I thought about what it would be like after he left, the waves of nightmares just waiting for me behind closed eyes, to drown me. He turned away, leaning down to grab his shoes as I spoke. "Bucky?"

"Hmm?" He looked up at me, patiently waiting for me to ask my question.

I wrung my hands in my lap as I took a seat at the edge of the bed again. "Would you stay? You're not the only one that struggles with nightmares." It had been a long time since I had admitted a weakness to anyone, but the peace in which I had slept that night was too much of a temptation not to ask.

I could see his mind processing what I said, his left hand clenching as he thought about it. I knew he still feared the prosthetic, but he also knew I could handle myself. It was a few beats before he nodded, releasing his shoes back by the door and coming back over to the bed.

I motioned to the dresser, "The clothes you lent me are in the top drawer."

A soft smile pulled onto his face as he grabbed the garments from the drawer. I turned away, giving him a moment of privacy as he slipped out of his suit and into a pair of sweatpants.

There was a warm hand on my elbow when he was finished, guiding me around to face him once more. "Do you mind if I sleep like this?" Bucky stood before me in just his sweats, giving me a full view of his sculpted torso. I shook my head, desperately trying to keep my eyes respectful.

I turned towards the dresser and began shifting through my clothes for something comfortable to wear to bed as the mattress creaked behind me. I was used to long sleeves and undergarments, but the thought of sleeping next to him in so little clothes sent flames up to my cheeks. I opted for a T-shirt and a pair of shorts.

I headed towards the bathroom, glancing at Bucky stretched out on the bed, "I'm going to rinse my face and I'll be right back. Do you need a toothbrush? There's a spare under the sink you can use when I'm finished." He hummed in response, obviously exhausted from the events of tonight.

I cleaned up in the bathroom, scrubbing my face free of makeup and slipping on more comfortable clothes. I cracked the door open as I began preparing my toothbrush, not at all surprised when Bucky slipped in a moment later and mimicking my motions. It was as if it was normal, like we had done it a million times before. In a sense, we had. I could recall many times that the two of us had shared a hotel room and a small bathroom, much more cramped than this one. We had spent nights in the same bed and watched over each other in the night. It wasn't so different from now as we stood shoulder to shoulder at the sink and brushed our teeth together.

When we were finished we both slipped into the bed. I took the left side while he took the right. I could feel the weight of his body on the other side of the bed, the pull of my body towards his. I could hear my heart pounding in my eardrums. The scent of his aftershave from this afternoon still clung to his skin and wafted temptingly towards me. I wanted so badly to turn to him, to look in his eyes and feel his skin against mine. I wanted to feel the cool metal of his arm against my side and the trace of his fingers over my back. The memories I had of us tugged at my mind, torturing me with the lack of contact between us both. It was nearly agonizing.

There was a shift in the bed and then warm breath hit the back of my neck in slow steady exhales. He had fallen asleep. Nearly five minutes in and the assassin had let the soft pull of exhaustion take him off to the land of dreams.

I relaxed into the mattress, content by his comfort. I let my eyelids slip closed as I shifted to find a comfortable position. The moment I moved though, a heavy arm was snaking around me. It pulled me back against Bucky's chest and slipped beneath my shirt to rest against my stomach. I knew he was asleep, but the contact sent a shiver of excitement slithering down my spine. I took a breath to collect myself and relax my muscles once more. But his breath was hitting my neck and sending goosebumps across my skin, and his leg had slipped itself between my own and molded our bodies against each other in his sleep. He was warm and comfortable, safe, but I knew that if he woke up he would remove himself in embarrassment.

It was wrong of me to be so taken with him, to have these thoughts as he slept next to me. How could I help myself?

I gently shook my head in an attempt to clear my mind. When that didn't help I forced my eyes shut again and focused solely on his breathing. In, out. In, out. I let it lull me into sleep, letting the darkness slip over me as my own breath evened with his and consciousness slipped away.

Tags<3

@cjand10 / @blackbirdwitch22 / @imdoingathingmom

[mementos-of-me]

Evermore

Chapter 31. Secret gardens in my mind

Previous chapter

Masterlist

Things are kicking off...

Thank you for your support <3

pairing: Pietro Maximoff x OFC

warnings: Soft Nadia, protective Nadia, angst with a hopeful ending, declarations

I could remember how the sunlight felt as it curved over my skin, salt in the air that I breathed in. With eyes closed and my head tilted skyward it was swirling back to me.

The world became blurry as I spun around and around, my hand enveloped by a larger one. There was music playing but I couldn’t make out the song. I giggled as my shoes clicked against the floor, dress catching the air and puffing out around me. The spinning stopped and I was wobbly on my feet, when the room stopped spinning, I was being held upright by two hands clasping my upper arms. I looked up at the person standing before me. He had dark hair, that was all I noticed, that and his familiar voice. One that had become a recurring sound in these echoes. “All that cake you ate earlier is gonna come back up if you don’t take a break from dancing.”

When his face came into focus, I tried hard to make out the features, willing my mind to remind me of them. I’d seen him so very many times in my dreams, and in my memories. Yet, his face had always remained a mystery, a blur of dark features.

When the adoring brown eyes were revealed to me, I clung to the image. There was a bright smile on his lips that spoke to his amusement.

“No, it’s not!” I responded petulantly.

He laughed heartily, poking my cheek. “Why so grumpy?” I tried to force a frown onto my face, willing the smile to stay away but it was tough when he watched on with that cheeky look, eyebrows raised, waiting for me to crack. Like lightning an idea hit me, the corners of my lips upturned but before he noticed I began to dry heave dramatically, pretending to gag causing him to jump back. It wasn’t long before I broke out in laughter, the disbelief written across his expression only making the giggles bubble up quicker. The boy gasped at me. “You little-” He shook his head but the warm grin that grew across his face betrayed his lack of real ire.

He lurched at me, but I dodged him quickly attempting to take off running but he was too quick, catching me swiftly and holding me tightly in his embrace. “Say you’re sorry!” I attempted tirelessly to escape, holding in my laughter as I wiggled and pushed at his arms, but it was futile. “Say it.”

“Never!”

He began tickling my sides relentlessly, hearty giggles pouring from me as I thrashed in his hold, seeking a reprieve from the torture.

My chest rose and fell heavily as I returned to the room across from Dr. Norris. I clutched the edges of my seat, blinking a few times to help my eyes adjust.

“Are you still feeling alright?”

I nodded, attempting to steady my breath. “Fine.”

“Do you want to continue?”

“Yes.”

It was his turn to nod. “Okay. Let’s take a short break and then we’ll keep going.” He made another note in his booklet before closing it and standing from his seat.

“Anna said you were an expert. How exactly does one become practiced in this kind of thing, is this a common… condition?” I asked, eyes trailing after him as he walked by.

“Your case is certainly unique. However, I have some experience sifting through the minds of people in your line of work.” He said, searching through the filing cabinet. “The psychological conditioning which Hydra subjected you to is not unlike what is done to create a sleeper cell agent. My expertise is in severing the mental blocks created by that kind of training.”

“Okay expert, why was remembering eliciting such a response from me before?”

Norris sat back down in front of me, setting down a manila folder and resting his hand over it. “I can’t say for certain, but my best conclusion would be that the sudden memories were overwhelming to your body, you were being thrust into multiple segments of your life that were unfamiliar and non-linear, it was triggering your survival instinct. It is also likely that it was a result of your body rejecting the memories.” I furrowed my eyebrows at him, gesturing for him to elaborate. “What Hydra did to your mind was no accident, they were rebuilding your world in the way they wanted you to see it. It is evident that they manufactured a perfect prison for your mind, an impenetrable fortress that guards the person you were. Clearly, it was not as sturdy as they’d believed, however, I suspect that part of your body’s reaction to the memories is the result of your mind fighting the foreign recollections.”

I supposed that made sense, but there was still a question on my mind. “Why now? Why am I suddenly remembering when for years I haven’t?”

He tilted his head from side to side as if considering my question. “That part I haven’t quite figured out yet either. My assumption would be context cues. That is typically the most significant aid in remembering.”

“Context cues?”

“Basically, when the environment you are in shares similarities with that of a past environment it can trigger your recall. The environmental cues are hard to pin down though, it could be anything, places, weather, smells, sounds-”

I swallowed heavily. “Music.”

“Exactly, music can be a strong trigger, as can people. Spending time with people from your past, or who remind you of someone you knew before can also be a trigger. Giselle is clearly one trigger but it’s hard to say what triggered your recollections prior to the exposure therapy.” He leaned back in his seat. “I suspect you would have remembered pieces here and there over the years, even if you didn’t realize it.”

I thought back to that day all those years ago when I’d laid among the dead in the back of that truck, the woman’s voice that sang to me in my dreams. The feeling of her soft hands smoothing over my hair. It baffled me, the thought that perhaps that kind of softness could have existed in my childhood.

When I left Norris’ office, I was deep in thought, going back through every moment when something had slipped through the cracks. Each memory that had forced its way to the forefront of my mind, demanding to be known.

I searched for Pietro as I went, thoughts of how he had been this morning pulling me from my pondering.

It had been a week since our conversation since I’d asked him if he was keeping something from me. I had intended to push the issue, and I still planned to but things had been a little complicated since Lagos. Wanda was struggling with what had happened, and the rest of the team were too. None of us knew how to proceed after that. Pietro was finding it particularly difficult; I knew he did not hold her personally accountable, but he’d barely spoken to her since we returned. Not that he’d spoken much at all. He’d been so withdrawn, and it was worrying me more and more as the days went on. When I found him, he was hiding out once again, confined to his bedroom.  I decided then I’d find a different time to continue our earlier conversation, a better time.

Instead, I laid down beside him, his breathing was calm, and steady, but I knew he wasn’t asleep. Silence sat heavy over the room. I studied the back of his head; wishing, not for the first time, that I was better at this type of thing. “Do you want to talk about it?” I swallowed heavily. “Or we don’t have to... either way I’ll stay here.” It was what I could offer him.

At first, he didn’t respond and then I wondered if maybe he didn’t want me to stay. I remained beside him, nonetheless.

“I do.” It was so quiet that I barely heard him and after so many beats of silence, I almost thought I’d imagined it. “Want you to stay… I don’t really want to talk about it though.”

Another long, silent moment passed between us. I reached out toward him, stopping just short of his back. The hesitation was short-lived when I saw the way his shoulders slumped even further with his exhalation of breath. My palm pressed flat to his spine before I smoothed it across the strong expanse of his shoulders, back and forth. We remained like this for a long while, the only sounds in the room were our breathing and the quiet drag of my hand over the material of his shirt. Pietro reached his hand back behind him grasping my wrist and tugging it gently. I took it as a sign to shuffle closer to him, letting one of my hands fall over his bicep while I bent the other to slide it beneath my head. He moved back a little so that my chest grazed his back, and I caressed his arm slightly, unsure how to proceed, not particularly adept when it came to physical touch. Eventually, when I saw his eyes drift closed, I moved closer, so our bodies were flush and when I moved my hand, he lifted his arm for me to slide it beneath, his fingers intertwining with mine as he held it in front of him.

I stayed there beside him until I was sure he was sound asleep, at which point I carefully climbed out of his bed and slipped from the room. When I walked past the glass panes lining that hallway I felt the last rays of sun dapple against my flesh, fighting the chill that still clung to the air even as winter dispersed.

My eyes drifted closed and I tried to let the feeling of the sun carry me away. I thought of the boy’s dark hair and of the features I could make out, dark puppy dog eyes, that bright smile. My mind seemed to form him before me, only ever revealing one feature at a time. I thought of the way his voice sounded and when I heard it in my mind I clung to it tightly.

The wind tousled my hair slightly, blowing blonde curls into my eyes. I ran the pad of my thumb over a buttery petal. A little bush of pale pink peonies lay at my feet. My knees dug into the soil as I knelt before them, selecting one especially colorful flower to snip from the bunch.

Smoke disrupted the sweet fragrance of the peonies, burning my nostrils. I glanced over my shoulder and saw first the small billowing cloud of white being expelled, then the dark hair and a glimpse of a sullen expression. “You’re going to get in trouble again,” I murmured looking back to the plants before me.

“Jesus, bug, you scared the shit out of me!” The boy spoke, taking another puff from the cigarette and blowing it away from me before stubbing it out. “What are you doing out here? It’s going to get dark soon.”

I shrugged, picking up the little colorful watering can and holding it above the last bush. “There’s still a little sun and I wanted to pick this for mom.” The boy moved closer, I didn’t see it, but I could feel his presence behind me. “She’s been so sad.”

He scoffed. “Yeah, because dad is being a dic-”

“You’re not supposed to say that word.”

He breathed out a soft laugh. “Sorry.” When he sat beside me, I glanced over at him again. The sun was just over his shoulder, obscuring part of his face and blinding me when I looked right at him. The way it sparkled around his cheek when he leaned backward, planting his palms on the grass, made it look like a warm golden aura.  

“Hey, buggy…” I spoke softly, and he hummed in return, tilting his head back and basking in the warmth of the afternoon.  “Could you maybe be a little nicer to dad?” His eyes opened then, and he glanced over without moving his head. A silent question was evident on the tip of his tongue. “I just think… maybe he’ll be here more if we’re extra nice to him.”

A hand landed over my shoulder, gentle, and comforting in its weight. “You know dad being gone has nothing to do with you right?”

The memory shifted then, the sun seemed to disappear as quickly as it had come and then it was clouds overhead.

There was a damp smell hanging around, the low crackle of thunder almost foreboding. This was new. My head felt heavy as it leaned back against a smooth surface that had been warmed by contact with my skin. Everything was blurry and my consciousness was fleeting. The reflection of lights through glass made me realize that I was in a car, droplets streaming down the window, city lights swirling together as my head rolled to the side. Something covered my mouth and nose, a pungent smell wafting into my nostrils, and then the lights were gone again.

“Kid?” The familiar voice startled me back to reality and I stood up a little straighter, glancing over my shoulder to see Tony standing in the doorway leading to the conference room.

“Sorry, I was just... in my own world.” He nodded, scanning my face, his typical air of nonchalance slipping for just a moment. “Is everything alright?”

Tony shook his head, rubbing a hand over his face. “Not really, no.”

I sighed heavily, looking back out the window. “I’m assuming you heard about the mess in Lagos?”

“Mess is putting it a little lightly.” I nodded, watching his reflection approach in the glass. There was a long moment of silence between us.

“How bad is it going to be?”

He shook his head yet again. “I’m guessing you haven’t watched the news.”

I shrugged. “I’ve been trying to avoid it.”

“For who’s sake?” Silence filled the space between us as I sent him a sidelong glance in response. He seemed to already know the answer to that question anyway. “Where is Pietro, anyway?”

His question had me bristling slightly. “Now is not the right time to ask him for a mission debrief.” My tone was firm leaving no room for argument. Tony’s eyebrows rose slightly at my words.

“Wow, prickly.” He raised his hands in mock surrender. “I was only going to ask him about mods to his new suit.”

“Oh.” I ran a hand through my hair. “Sorry, I’m just...”

The look he gave me was assessing. I looked away from him, wringing my fingers together. I closed my eyes for a moment and then the sun was back, pressing tenderly into my flesh.

The grass was warm and alive beneath me as I sprawled out. The fabric of his sleeve grazed my arm as the boy lay beside me, looking up at the same brilliant blue sky. I twirled the peony between the tips of my fingers pressing it to my nose once again to smell it.

From the window of the compound, I could see a sky just as blue as the one in my mind, yet it wasn’t the same. “I just... worry about him,” I added. Tony’s eyebrows rose slightly, I imagined he was less surprised by my admission as he was my choice to actually admit it.

Tony turned to look out the window with me, gazing at the stark, spattered whiteness of the clouds. “The suit can wait.”

I found myself wandering around the compound for much of the day, pondering the memories that had begun to reveal themselves. The techniques Norris had used were what I pulled from as I clung onto anything in the memories that was distinctive. I let myself sit in my mind as I recalled how the sun-soaked grass had felt against my palms, holding onto the sleepy feeling that seeped into my muscles from the warmth. The sweet citrus scent of the flowers, the sticky sap that clung to my fingertips.

“That is such crap!” The boy again, though he wasn’t speaking to me, perhaps hadn’t even realized I was there. “There’s always something with you, isn’t there? Something bigger, more important.”

Another voice joined his, a familiar one. “That is enough-”

“No, it’s not! It’s not enough.” I watched the boy pace and fought to sink further into the recollection.

I asked myself, what was he walking on? Was he outside as well?

The memory shifted and within the blink of an eye it was different, the same moment but I was more there, further in it. There was a sink before me, cold marble surrounding it. The peonies sat prettily in an intricate crystal vase atop the counter; a kitchen I realized. When I heard the two voices again, I looked around for them, asking myself the same question, letting myself go further. The boy was outside, I could see the side of his head through the kitchen window, it was ajar. He stood outside but there was no grass, it was like a courtyard, with stone, and fencing in place of the garden I had seen previously.

“I understand how important your work is to you. You’ve made that abundantly clear… What I don’t understand is how you can have a daughter who already sincerely believes that she has to earn your love and still you choose to miss yet another thing that’s important to her.”

I recognized the man then, recalling the dancing and the laughter. The way he looked when he handed the teddy bear to me. “It is just a ballet recital.” He said, gruffly.

“The fact that you really believe that just proves my point!”

I blinked, looking down at my hands as if I could still feel the buttery petals between my fingertips as if there would still be dirt beneath my nails. The compound was quiet as I walked through it. I was glad, needing some more time to sit with my thoughts.

When I entered the kitchen, I was momentarily stunned into complete stillness, there, at the sink stood Pietro, scrubbing at a plate.

“Hey...” I spoke, surprised to see him out of his room. My first thought was to tell him about my memories, the garden and the young boy; to tell him how much better I’ve become at letting the memories fade into me. But, when I saw the somber look in his eyes, I stopped myself. “Do you need some help?”

He shook his head, gaze never lifting from the soapy water. “No. Thank you.”

“Okay. So maybe we can talk now.”

“About what?” He spoke, his voice was gravelly, betraying pure exhaustion. As he spoke, he finally met my eyes. “I meant what I said the other day. Deny it all you want but it is the truth.”

“I will deny it, Pietro, because it isn’t true!” He sighed, turning away from me to finish putting his dishes away. I waited patiently for his response, but it never came. When I said his name again, he braced himself with two hands on the counter, head hanging between his shoulders and still he remained silent. “You’re not going to say anything?”

“What do you want me to say, Nadia?”

I wanted him to say that he believed me, that he didn’t truly think that he made everything worse for people. “You made a poor decision in Sokovia, but it was so much more complicated than just the efforts of you and Wanda.” He shook his head yet again, beginning to walk away. I followed him without hesitation. “Tell me a time other than that when you made things worse?”

He pushed the door to his room open, still facing away from me. “Do we have to talk about this?”

 “Yes, now answer.”

Finally, he stopped. Looking out the window at the snow that was beginning to melt, it was strange to be able to see the green of the grass after months when it was blanketed in white. “That day in the shipyard, when we were fighting… Nadia, I held you down while Wanda took over your mind.” I narrowed my eyes at him, confused as to why he was bringing this up now. It was evident that this wasn’t all, there was more to it. “All of the problems you’ve been having, the way your mind has been all muddled for months, it all started then, didn’t it?”

I opened and closed my mouth a few times, mind slowly processing what he was saying. “Piet-”

“No! Stop, it’s true, isn’t it? If that hadn’t happened, you wouldn’t have had that episode that caught Ross’ attention and you wouldn’t have had to live through complete torture in that cabin.”

“Is that what’s been upsetting you?” He continued staring down at the ground as I took a step toward him. “You cannot know that Wanda triggered any of that, and even if she did Hydra were the ones who muddled my mind first.” He was silent, continuing to stare ahead. I said his name, but he didn’t respond. “Tell me you know that.”

“Fine, your mind was already muddled… but we made it worse. Like I said.” He ran a hand through his hair, I couldn’t stand the way he sounded, utterly depleted of energy. “You were trying to help us, and we were praying on your worst fears, your greatest weaknesses. Our parents would be ashamed.”

That sentiment propelled me toward him once more. I placed a hand on his shoulder, turning him to face me. “That isn’t true.”

He turned away once more, walking toward his bed to take a seat. “Nadia, I’m tired of this. I don’t want to fight with you right now.”

“Well, I do!” He met my gaze finally, furrowing his eyebrows at me. “I want to fight with you, Pietro. Fight for you…” I took a deep breath, searching for the words. “Your parents would not be disappointed in you. Everything you have done for the greater good, were you a little misguided at times? Yes, but you only ever did what you thought was right. Look at all the good you have done, you saved Clint and that little boy in Sokovia, you helped save thousands more that day. You have completed assignment after assignment to stop terrorists and power-crazy lunatics.” He looked away from me, shaking his head, but I continued before he could voice his disagreement. “You saved me, even when I made it clear I didn’t want you to.” His eyes were downcast as I closed the distance between us, taking his face gently into my hands. “You don’t think that’s enough? Pietro, your parents would be proud of you.”

He shook his head, looking down at his lap, it sickened me to think he didn’t believe it. There was a frantic feeling within me, something that pushed me further toward him and had me grasping at the invisible strings between us. It was as if I could see him turning in on himself and some part of me urged me to pull him back out. It had always been hard for me to find the words; I’d never been particularly good at the whole comforting thing. Perhaps it was because I had spent so many years without comfort from another human. Whatever the reason, it was not an easy task for me to say the right thing when someone was hurting. Nor was it so simple for me to reveal myself. However, something told me that bearing myself to him might be the only way to make him see himself as I do. I said his name and he shook his head again, telling me to stop.

Moving to my knees on the floor before him, I placed my hands over his thighs tentatively so that I could find his gaze. “No. I need you to know this. When you were on assignment with Sam… I was so proud of you, really, I was, but I was also terrified that something bad was going to happen. I barely slept before you left. Then when there was the explosion and your comms disconnected and I-I.” I swallowed heavily, closing my eyes to gather my thoughts. My first instinct was to steel myself against the rush of emotions that occurred within me at the memory of that day, but for some reason, I couldn’t. Maybe it was the vulnerability rife in the moment, or the way he had sounded as he told me that he only makes things worse. I wasn’t entirely sure what it was, but I couldn’t bring myself to turn from the emotion and make myself cold. “Pietro,” it was like his name was an anchor, and saying it allowed me to cling to solid ground. “When I thought something could have happened to you it shattered me… in that moment I could not imagine anything worse than living in a reality where I never heard your voice again.”

There was silence between us for a long while after that. Again, my mind screamed at me to turn away; to cover the softness I’d just spilled between us. Yet, I couldn’t. Or perhaps just wouldn’t

His eyes were glossy, and it pained me to see him cry yet again. “You think too highly of me. I don’t deserve it.”

“Yes. You do.” I forced him to meet my eyes, attempting wholeheartedly to convey every emotion I felt through my gaze, hoping he’d feel it. “Of course you deserve it, you are the most deserving of it. The fact that you feel so strongly about all of this should be proof enough that you are nothing but good.”

When a tear escaped his eyes, streaming down his pale cheek I swiped it away. “You’re a hypocrite.” He said, laughing a little.

“I know.” A soft smile spread across my lips as I nodded. “So, let’s make another deal, I’ll work on the perpetual guilt thing if you do the same.” I wasn’t entirely sure how achievable that was for me, I’d lived with the dark, searing, nauseating ache of remorse for as long as I can remember. Without it, I worried I’d feel incomplete. However, if it meant he’d forgive himself, and try to let go of that feeling, I’d try as well. “A fair deal, no?”

He swallowed heavily, nodding gently. I wiped the last straggling tears from his cheeks, letting my hands rest against his cheeks. He leaned forward, his forehead falling to rest against mine. “I’m sorry for yelling at you,” I told him I forgave him, and I meant it then I pressed a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth. He sat up, hands wrapping around my wrists to pull me with him. I slid into his lap, his hands enveloping my face, nose bumping my own. The hands on my cheeks slid downwards, moving to wrap around me. With his head buried into the crook of my neck, he murmured. “You know I’d save you again and again, even if you were mean to me.”

I laughed, running my fingers through his hair. “I might let you, even if you are incredibly infuriating.”

When he spoke again, I felt the amusement leave me just as quickly as it had come. My spine went pin straight and my mouth dried up.

“I love you, Nadia.”

[phoenixstark1708]

the daughter of an archangel pt.4

The man came in once she left, and set down a bunch of books, and a strange electronic thing that folded. “hello phoenix, my name is mark. Im just going to ask you some questions to figure out where you’re at academically.” oh! I know what academics are! That is my favorite thing! My face visibly lit up at the prospect. The man began with painfully simple math equations “134+23” and “33x11” they progressively got harder, and I continuously got them gorrect. The man seemed astonished I knew all that I knew all this stuff. Trigonometry is where I got confused. He noted that on his clipboard. Then came science, which I was again, above average. Then history, I didn’t know much, because the stuff I was taught was purely propaganda. Then came literature, which I was average in. And finally, foreign languages. The man was obviously shocked when he realized I was fluent in 53 languages.

I later met with a psychiatrist, and spoke for nearly four hours. I explained my childhood, and past, and she listened intently, asking some questions, and recording the conversation. I had several preliminary diagnoses, but she wanted to meet in a few weeks to see where I was at. By the end of the day, I was tired, but I stayed awake because I knew I would be punished if I fell asleep. I sat on the edge of the bed until tony came in “hey phoenix, how’re you doiung? Pepper told me how well you did today. Im going to get you some tutors so you can get an education. Is that okay?” I nodded “great. Then, there was something else we needed to talk about.” I looked up at him “you are not a prisoner here. You can explore as you please, you can eat whatever you feel like, and do watever you need to. You don’t need to ask. For an example, if you wanted to shower, you can. If you wanted to sleep, you can. Eat? Of course. Drink? Yes ma’am.” I was looking at him quizically, confused as to why I was allowed to do these rhings. I was definitely not complaining. “but, I think it would be best for you to stay here, in the house. Of course you can go outside if you want, but stay close. Its not safe for you out there yet.” he finished. “take care kiddo.” he ruffled my hair and walked out of the room. I laid down on the bed and slept.

After a months of living with tony, I finally began to gain weight, I was finally gaining confidence, my face began to fill with color, and my academics took off. I was getting more confident, and happy. Actually happy. For the first time in my life. I still had times when I felt terrible for leaving bucky; How could I not? He saved me. I was having frequent flashbacks. After meeting with the psychiatrist again, I was diagnosed with PTSD. I refused the medications they offered, vividly remembering the various drugs hydra expiramented on me with.

Everything was going good, until one day, a black man came with an eyepatch. Tony explained he was here to help, and he called him because of me expressing my desire to help the world after all the damage I'd done. We sat at the patio table, tony giving us privacy. “so, I hear your name is pheonix stark?” he sort of questioned “yes sir, that’s me” “good. But I know that you don’t have any official family- yet. I wanted to talk about tony adopting you. He has already agreed, but has made it expressly clear that its off if you don’t want him to. This way, you can become an official citizen of the united states, and you can go to a real school. How does this sound, phoenix?” I waited a moment “good. It sounds good, but tony said that you were here to talk about me helping the world?” he chuckled “straight to the point. I like that. Yes, that’s the other thing I wanted to talk to you about. Im the head of an organisation called SHEILD. I know you are relatively familiar with us?” my eyes widened in fear when he mentioned SHEILD. “y-yes. You know me, what ive done. Why would you want me there?” I asked in a small voice “we want you because you would be an excellent addition to our organization. HYDRA controlled you, we all know you didn’t have a choice. We want to help you learn to control your powers, and how to fight. We want to train you to be excellent. And make no mistake, you are not forced to, you will not be harmed by us, and you don’t have to do any of this if you don’t want-” I cut him off in excitement “i’ll do it” I was beaming with joy not showing in my voice. “we will also send you on some missions when you’re ready. Nothing like what you did at HYDRA, you would be saving people, not hurting them.” I nodded “this may seem like a lot, phoenix, but I think this would be a good thing for you.” “i want to do it. All of it. I want to be adopted by tony, and I want to join SHEILD. This will be my opportunity to make amends for the things ive done. Thank you.” just then, tony come out of the door. I ran to hug him – an astronomical improvement from when I arrived; afraid to even talk. “thank you.” I murmured “thank you kid. Phoenix Stark has nice ring to it, huh?” I nodded, beaming with excitement.

After that day, we signed a LOT of paperwork for the adoption. I found it hilarious that we had to sign hundreds of papers, quite a change from what I was used to. and I became an official U.S. citizen! I had never felt so much like a person, rather then a machine. I struggled with terrible nightmares of the punishments I endured, and the missions I partook in. I couldn’t stop thinking about the sacrifice bucky made for me. I hated HYDRA for it, well I hated them for a lot of things, but especially that.

i saw you like the other 3 parts, so tagging you in this one :)

@breadhead19

[thehunterstars]

@bisexualterror and i: let's make all fluffy scenarios with keony and lori, no need for angst in this household

also me: but what if one/both kids show up looking boy (?) and don't want to shape-shift out of fear that tony will be disgusted or something 🥺

keke: you know what bro.....

Shape-shifting has always come easier to Lori, but even Keony, for their fondness of their born features, has always felt as though their skin is made for other things, other shapes.

Their body, their soul was clay, moldable for unimaginable levels of magnificent beauty and horror– and utterly precious in others hands.

Meleable, until their feelings became oh-so-breakable, when the clay dried into something more difficult, fragile enough to shatter and yet harder to manipulate.

HYDRA liked to test the limits of anything and everything. They had to learn to bend, lest they risk shattering, until HYDRA was forced to sweep up the pieces of their messes. Breakage. Failures.

The kids can admit to themselves, late at night when the darkness cloaks them in its warmth like a familiar friend, that Tony is nothing at all like HYDRA.

“What if we’re too… alien, to fit in here.” Keony whispers into the darkness, inhaling and exhaling like the very thought pains them. To be alien is to be too different, and for all their naïveté’ on the world, they have both seen what this world does to those that are different.

Lori shifts in the darkness, green eyes bright and easily finding them, curled in a ball, the wall a solid presence behind them. They had been given rooms, one each, but being apart... let's just say that after being isolated from each other as a punishment, being separated for too long made Keony itch until they had seeked out for Lori, the only familiar presence nearby.

“I don't know,” Lori confesses hushedly, in part ashamed but mostly afraid and trying not to show it. To not know things is dangerous when you can do the things they can do. Not knowing, when you were created to possess the combined intellect of a genius and a norse deity, makes them feel something not quite embarrassment but akin enough that it burns. “I don’t care about the rest not liking us, or trusting us, but I don't know if I could take it if… if he never trusts us, or our powers.”

He.

Tony.

They could see it on his face, how closely they were watched, always firmly kept within his sightline. And no matter how well he hid his wariness, the quiet horror of who they were, the kids could read it plain as day. A face that Keony became intimately familiar with thanks to mirrors. It was, after all, an imperfect copy of their main Template– Tony himself.

“We should’ve gone to our Asgardian donor, space would be cool.” Funny thing, how the night made Keony more sociable, chatting Lori’s ear off in a way that was rare during the day.

Maybe Asgard would have been more accepting of their abilities, but for all Lori’s magical prowess, they had yet to truly grasp dimensional travel. Something to correct, some day, in the future.

“You know what they say, he got locked up for trying to take over the Earth." Lori pointed out, shifting closer to Keony in hopes that the giant expanse of the bed would feel less like it was trying to swallow her whole.

Keony pouted.

“If we could break out, why can’t he?” But the point wasn’t worth arguing about. Even if they could go to Asgard, they both had decided it was safer to be seen as the children of Tony Stark, right now, than to be seen as any more of a threat than they already were if they tried to chase after Loki. Someone who was just as reviled, and as caged now, as they had been.

No, all they could do now was be more careful.

Lori let out a tired laugh, more of a deranged sound than anything actually mirthful, that was eventually swallowed by the darkness, as everything was prone to. “We’ll be okay, we can learn how to be more... normal.” Until they trust us, went unspoken. Until he trusts us and stops treating us like a bomb ready to detonate.

“I'm so tired, Lo, I just want to be safe.”

Keony was always honest about their feelings, at least more so than Lori. It always made Lori fumble for a response, analyzing emotions always came easier to them than expressing them.

“I hope we can find that here.”

Hope was a dangerous thing to have, and yet it still crawled its way inside of their chest, waiting to grow either flowers or decaying rot inside of their bodies— regardless, it would make itself at home there.