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[buckysflower]

Sentimental Part 2 (Bucky Barnes x OC)

summary; a new project by HYDRA was created to obtain leverage over the former Winter Soldier but when the Avengers intervene, a battle between HYDRA programming and reality breaks out

word count: 848

Longing.

Bucky feels tense, like his insides are trying to compact themselves into a tiny box. Like he can’t get a grip on reality.

Rusted.

He feels old and stale, like his skin is tightening as well as trying to convey his true age but struggling against the serum. 

Furnace. 

He feels hot, like his body is trying to fight the infection of the serum but it’s too strong and he might explode.

Daybreak.

He feels the pain of his fall, the pain of his arm being ripped from his body and the pain of this new one being sewn to every nerve. Causing a new beginning without his consent.

Seventeen. 

He vaguely remembers his family, what he used to have and he feels immense and powerful grief. 

Benign. 

Bucky feels…remembrance? 

He finds himself in a HYRA lab, like the one where the Winter Soldier was born. The lab is dark and unnaturally quiet. He hears his boots click on the hard floor. However silent the assassin learned to become, his breath hitches loudly in his throat.  His metal hand clenches and his arm whirrs in suspense, ready to attack. 

Nine.

He sees the familiar emblem on the back wall and similar equipment littered across the tables but something is...off. He notices a large container, almost like one used for shipping, and sees a window into the container. Bucky cautiously steps closer and peers inside but second guesses himself and steps away. 

Homecoming.

He feels the same atmosphere from his time at HYDRA but rather than pain he feels a tone of counterfeit. A tone of forgery. Fabrication. 

One. 

He feels solidarity with whomever is in that container. 

Freight—

He wakes up in a cold sweat. Even though Wakanda wiped HYDRAs programming from his head, he still feels the emotional ties to those insidious words.

Bucky bolts up to a sitting position. His long hair clinging to his forehead and his shirt feels like it’s attached to his skin. With a heaving chest, he climbs out of bed and pads to the kitchen area of the Avengers Compound. He pushes his hair out of his eyes and grabs whatever coffee is left in the pot. It’s stale.

The sun still hasn’t risen so he decides to sit outside and watch it. Padding down to the elevator and out to the front of the compound, he sits on the corner steps and watches the sun rise over the trees of Upstate New York. He relishes in the peaceful moments the morning always has to offer. This is the only time he can feel alive. These past few weeks for some reason have taken a toll on the super soldier. He can’t find the energy to care for people or to even care for himself. It’s an uphill battle to even shower so he doesn’t very often. To be honest, it doesn't really matter because he generally stays away from people anyways.

He jumps slightly when he feels a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey Buck,” Steve greets as he sits down next to him. Steve leans forward and puts his crossed arms on his knees as he sighs in contentment. “How are you doing?” Steve inquires gently.

“ ‘M alright” Bucky mumbles, his usual answer. Steve accepts the vague and definitely false answer anyway. 

“Stark wants all of us at a briefing today.” 

“That’s cool.” Bucky fidgets with a thread on the hem of his shirt.

“All of us, Buck.” Steve sucks in a breath and gazes back out on the horizon. “Listen, I know you’re struggling but I need you on this mission.” 

Bucky tenses slightly and his best friend definitely noticed. Bucky remembers a flash of his dream—nightmare. 

“What’s wrong?” Steve asks worriedly. 

“It’s fine, just a stupid dream I had last night.” Bucky brushes him off and starts to get up. Steve sighs in slight frustration.

Steve walks into the briefing room first where the rest of the Avengers are, followed closely by Bucky. They both sit down near Sam.

“Woah man,” Sam makes a face at Bucky. “Dude you smell nuclear.” 

“What are you gonna do? Shit on my car, Birdman?” Bucky shoots back. The rooms gets hit with a flash of awkward silence that is quickly broken.

“Boys, put your rulers away.” Tony chastises from the front of the room. “FRIDAY, display visuals.” He commands the AI. “We have reason to believe our buddies at HYDRA are harboring another project person—thing.” Tony glances at Bucky for a brief second. 

“We don’t know what is going on for sure but this is definitely a search and rescue type of mission.” Steve adds.

“Thanks Cap, but it’s my turn to talk. See? I have the laser pointer.” Tony points the laser at Steve’s chest and draws circles on him for emphasis resulting in Steve putting his hands up in surrender. “Anyway, yeah I guess, search and rescue. But also dangerous search and rescue because we have no idea what is up HYDRAs dreadfully colored sleeve.” 

While Tony finishes briefing everyone, Bucky is still thinking about what he saw before he stepped away from the window. He could have sworn he saw a girl with red hair. He visibly shakes his head and tunes into whatever snarky comment Tony has to say.

[buckysflower]

Sentimental Masterlist

part 1 

part 2

[buckysflower]

Sentimental  (Bucky Barnes x OC)

summary; a new project by HYDRA was created to obtain leverage over the former Winter Soldier but when the Avengers intervene, a battle between HYDRA programming and reality breaks out

A/N first story since cringe wattpad lets get this bread. this bad boy is set in an AU where like avengers are all happy and together bc endgame made me cry so

word count: 885

Sunlight poured into the small room. Although compact, the room was neatly organized and complete with almost everything one may need. With a twin bed covered in a vibrant yellow duvet tucked into the corner, adjacent to a cherry wood dresser stuffed with unfolded clothes. In the opposite corner, a small desk was covered in pencils, pens, paints and a couple cups from the kitchen here and there. The walls were dressed with different paintings of various types of sunflowers and the white curtains sway with the morning breeze.

Through the door a black and white cat pushes its way into the room and leaps onto the bed. After gently making its way to the sleeping figure of a girl sprawled on her back, the cat nudges the girl’s unruly red hair and licks her button nose. 

“Oh jeez!” The girl wakes with a start, bewildered at the sudden sensation of something wet on her face but immediately relaxes when she realizes who the culprit is. 

“Hello my sweet baby,” she coos as she pets the feline’s head. She yawns and rubs her face, moving the cat slightly so she can get up. The girl moves her hair behind her ears and squints to find her clear framed glasses. As soon as she feels the familiar plastic, she dons the frames and steps down on the hardwood floor. Stretching her arms above her head, multiple cracks and pops fill the room as she yawns.  

When she gets to the kitchen, a short distance from her room, she notices the newspaper has been delivered. She picks it up and begins the process for the most needed substance on the planet, coffee.

Drink in hand, she finally notices the cover page.

 Global Pandemic, Federal Government Enacts a Shelter In Place. Please stay inside as our nation begins its lockdown. 

She lets out a low whistle because the paper has said the same thing for months and she reads the rest. The standard ‘Best Songs of the Year!’ and ‘How To Make Your Own Scrunchies!’. Eventually she gets bored and sets the paper down. 

The young girl gets up and goes to her bathroom to tame the animal that is her hair. Playing some music from her radio, she washes her face and pulls her ginger hair into a low bun with a scrunchie she may or may not have made herself. The girl studies herself in the mirror, the freckles sprinkled across her face, the vibrant blue eyes that unfortunately don't work that well, the pink lips that always seem to be chapped. She takes a step back and studies her body. Her tall frame she loved for volleyball but hated when it came to the opinions of boys, the curve of her hips that held thighs which were squishier than she liked, inevitably her eyes were drawn to her stomach. She touches the softness of it and can’t help but feel the familiar creep of sadness as she wonders how long the quarantine will last and if she will look like this forever. She can’t go outside and she hates it. However, she knows she must make the most of it. As if on cue, her beloved feline rubs against her calf and she takes a deep breath.

Determined to stay busy, the girl takes up many tasks. She cleans her kitchen, then her room, then she moves to creating paintings, then to dancing to music and then gazing at the beautiful sun set. Later, darkness laid a soft blanket over her room and the only light came from a flickering lamp. Feeling the caffeine wear off, the girl slips into bed. With her cat by her side, she drifts off into deep sleep. Her pulse slows and her breathing is steady.

A machine beeps when her resting heart rate is reached and a few men dressed in white coats wheel an IV bag up to the sleeping girl seemingly out of nowhere and insert the needle into her arm. The cat is rushed away into a cage and her room opens up like a movie set to reveal a dark lab with the large emblem of HYDRA on the back wall. Rows and rows of computers and assorted lab equipment litter the large room. Wires that connect the walls of the girl’s room to the ceiling above let out a faint buzz as the electricity is turned off. The monitors that make up her windows flicker to blackness while another scientist carefully rolls up her newspaper again and places it on a table behind him to be delivered the next day.

“Project Ophelia is stable, sir.” A short stout female scientist reports to her tall intimidating commander. “By slowing her thyroid, we are able to keep her contained. The synthetic hypothyroidism we created will keep her fatigued and weak within her muscles. Besides,” the scientist smiles to herself proudly “we won’t have to feed her as much because her metabolism is slowed.” 

“Where is the Asset?” The man asks slowly and forcefully in a thick Russian accent.

“I’m sorry?” She looks up from her clipboard confused.

“Find me the Asset. Project Ophelia is ready.” He nods to the scientist closest to the girl. Immediately the scientist plunges a syringe into her arm.

She screams awake