#mentioning of bucky barnes

[bangchansrose]

if my boyfriend started leading a group called the new avengers that worked with the government (and included the government appointed captain america) after i fought alongside the former captain america for the belief that the avengers should not work with the government due to fear of limitation and corruption AND was chosen by the former captain america to be the next captain america, i too would be fucking pissed

[daxisyzz]

hiiii i hope you are well !!! i was wondering if you could maybe do a fic where the reader gets kidnapped and tortured by hydra on a mission or something, and after a while bucky and the team find her and save her but she’s so psychologically damaged that she’s scared of everyone? preferably lots and lots of protective and comforting bucky as he looks after her and he becomes the only person she’s comfortable with, all the angst and hurt/comfort with a happy ending would be amazing!!! thanks 🩷

Heyyy!! Hope you're doing well too. Writing this fic made me cry so I hope it's what you expected. Sorry for answering late🙃

Only safe with you

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Hurt/comfort, angst, trauma recovery, Kidnapping, psychological torture (not graphic), PTSD, panic attacks, emotional vulnerability, mentions of touch aversion, recovery

Word count: 1.1k+

You didn’t scream when they took you.

That came later—when your voice cracked raw from begging the shadows for mercy, for death, for something other than the cold numbness pressing in around you like icewater under your skin. But in the beginning, there was only silence. The kind that hollows you out from the inside.

The kind that makes you forget your own name.

You had been captured by Hydra. A mission gone wrong. A corner turned too fast. A shot fired too late. And then it all disappeared beneath the haze of a needle and the slam of a steel door.

No one found you. Not for weeks.

And in that time, you stopped existing.

You curled in on yourself, starved and shaking, while voices you didn't recognize whispered in the dark, breaking you down with every calculated word. They told you you were abandoned. That no one was coming. That you were alone because you were unworthy of being loved.

They never needed to touch you.

They just watched you rot from the inside out.

When the team finally found you, you didn’t recognize them.

You heard the explosion first—the thunder of boots, the sharp bark of Bucky’s voice, the sound of someone screaming your name like it meant something.

But all you saw were more shadows.

You tried to crawl into the wall when they burst into your cell. Your fingernails broke against the concrete, your body instinctively folding into itself, your mouth whispering pleas in a language you didn’t know you remembered.

You didn’t know Bucky was crying until his tears hit your hands.

"Hey," he choked, dropping to his knees, blood on his knuckles and desperation in his eyes. "It’s me. It’s Bucky. I’m here, okay? I’ve got you. You’re safe."

But safety was a concept that no longer made sense to you.

When his hand brushed yours, you screamed.

You screamed like you were dying. Like you were on fire.

And something in Bucky broke that day.

The jet ride back was too bright. Too loud. You were swaddled in a blanket like a child, staring through people who whispered your name with eyes full of quiet sorrow. Natasha sat across from you, tense and silent, her hand clenched in her lap.

Steve paced quietly in the back, eyes heavy with guilt.

Tony said nothing, choosing instead to sit beside you in stillness.

They all felt the ache, but none knew how to hold it.

Because they saw the pieces of you, scattered and bloody, and none of them knew how to put you back together.

Except for Bucky.

He didn’t leave your side. Not once.

You wouldn’t let anyone else near you. The first time Bruce tried to assess your wounds, you had a panic attack so violent your lips turned blue.

But Bucky?

You let him stay.

You didn’t speak. You didn’t sleep. You didn’t see him. But he was there. Sitting on the floor, silent and patient, like he was trying to absorb your pain with every breath.

"You don’t have to talk," he whispered once, voice so low it made your ribs ache. "I’ll just be here. I’m not going anywhere."

And he wasn’t.

Not when you curled into corners, sobbing so hard you threw up.

Not when you tore your own skin in your sleep.

Not when you started to disappear into yourself again.

He stayed.

And the others watched, hurting in their own quiet ways.

Natasha lingered by your door some nights, pacing like she wanted to knock but couldn’t.

Steve brought books you didn’t read.

Tony made sure the lights never flickered in your room again.

They didn’t say much. They didn’t force anything. But they were there.

And Bucky? He just was.

Weeks passed.

You started whispering again. Small things. Words like "water" or "blanket" or "stay."

Always to Bucky.

Only to him.

He was the first person you let touch you again.

A pinky finger. Brushing yours. Barely there.

You sobbed when it happened. Clutched your chest like it hurt. Like it burned to feel something again.

Bucky didn’t cry. Not then.

But that night, Steve found him in the hallway outside your door, fists bruised and bloodied against the wall.

"I can’t lose her again," Bucky whispered, voice shattering. "I can’t."

Recovery wasn’t linear.

Some days you smiled.

Some days you screamed.

Some nights you let Bucky hold your hand.

Some nights you clawed at your own skin, begging him to make it stop.

And he did.

Not with force.

Not with words.

Just with presence.

He’d pull you into his lap, wrap his arms around your shaking body, press his lips to your temple and whisper, "You’re safe. You’re not alone. I’ve got you."

Until you believed him.

Even if only for a moment.

One night, you whispered, "Why did you stay?"

Bucky looked at you, moonlight catching the cracks in him that matched your own.

"Because you matter. Because you didn’t give up. Because you let me find you."

You blinked, tears spilling freely. "I don’t feel like a person anymore."

His voice broke. "Then let me remind you how to be one."

They say healing is like a mosaic, broken pieces coming together to form something beautiful.

You were still cracked. Still healing. Still learning how to exist in a body that had been turned into a prison.

But Bucky loved you through all of it.

With hands that never rushed.

With words that never demanded.

With a heart that only ever whispered, You are safe here.

And for the first time in months, maybe years—You believed him.

One Year Later

The morning sun slipped in through the curtains, painting your room in pale gold. The shadows that once clung to the walls had long since faded, replaced by quiet warmth and slow, steady breaths.

You sat curled on the couch, a book in your lap, half-forgotten, as Bucky entered with two steaming mugs in hand. He paused in the doorway, watching you with that soft look he reserved only for you—a kind of awe, like he still couldn’t believe you were real.

"You’re staring," you said, voice lighter, steadier now.

He grinned. "Can you blame me?"

You set the book aside and took the mug he offered, your fingers brushing his without flinching. That tiny act still felt like magic sometimes.

You leaned into him when he sat beside you, and he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you in without a word.

There were no more nightmares that week.

You’d started laughing again. Dancing in the kitchen. Humming in the shower.

You still had days where the world felt fragile, like it could crack open beneath your feet—but you no longer fell alone.

You looked up at Bucky, your eyes soft. "Thank you for not giving up on me."

His thumb brushed your cheek. "You saved yourself. I just got to love you through it."

And you did. Slowly, then all at once. Day by day, moment by moment, you let the light back in through him.

[risrambles]

funniest thing about the sambucky ship is it’s not even far-fetched we actually have like a lot to work with on the canon front

the therapy scene? rolling down the hill? fixing the boat? the shield training scene? sam spending two years searching for bucky? bucky showing up when sam needed him? the “i love you”?!?!?! good lord we really are well-fed in regards to some of the other mcu ships

[f-misc]

(captain america: brave new world spoilers)

sambucky scene transcript!

----

On Sam, looking at Torres in the hospital, hearing footsteps come up behind him.

Sam: "It's a private room. Go away."

Bucky comes into view beside Sam.

Bucky: "Missed you too."

They look at each other. Bucky a soft smile. Sam looks away, a smile tugging the corner of his mouth.

Sam: "I hate to admit it...I'm glad you're here."

Sam looks back to Bucky and they both go in for a hug, Bucky closing his eyes in it. They part, stood side-by-side again.

Bucky: "You looked good out there on that 6 o'clock."

Sam shakes his head a bashful smile. Then sombre again.

Bucky: "But then I saw this."

Sam: "Doctors had to restart his heart. They don't know if..."

Sam closes his eyes.

Bucky: "This isn't your fault."

Sam: "It makes me think of Steve. How many alien invasions did he stop, again?"

Bucky: "Two."

Sam: "Two. Wow. What made me think I could follow that. I should have took the serum. Like Steve. Like you."

Bucky looking at Sam.

Bucky: "Why?"

Sam: "Because this is all starting to seem much bigger than me."

Sam turns to fully face Bucky.

Sam: "Ross, he asked me to restart the Avengers, Buck. But Joaquin's in here. Isaiah's in prison. And Sterns...I had him. I had Sterns. Right in my hands. And he got away. He damn near pushed us to the brink of war, because I wasn't—"

Sam emotionally cuts himself off.

Bucky: "Say what you need to say."

Sam looks down, then back to Bucky.

Sam: "Steve made a mistake."

Bucky: "No he didn't. He gave you that shield, not because you're the strongest, but because you're you. You think if you had that serum, you'd be able to protect all the people you care about. Steve had it, and he couldn't. You're a human being and you're doing your best. Steve gave people something to believe in, but you...you give them something to aspire to."

Sam squints at Bucky.

Sam: "Did your speech writers help you with that?"

Bucky: "They did, yeah, the ending, a little bit. Well, did you like it? Was it—?"

Sam: "No no, it was good. Solid...B plus."

Bucky: "Yeah. Emotional."

Sam: "Very. I felt it."

Bucky: "But just enough."

Sam: "Yeah."

Bucky: "Listen, I've gotta...catch a plane. I have a campaign fundraiser. It's so stupid."

They look over Torres, smiling. Bucky looks at Sam.

Bucky: "He's gonna be all right, man."

Sam looks at Bucky, shakes Bucky's hand.

Sam: "Thanks, Buck."

Bucky: "I love you, buddy."

Bucky cuffs Sam's arm and leaves; Sam nods, looking after him.

[anyalikeslasagna]

TONY STARK IS ALIVE AND WELL

NATASHA ROMANOFF IS ALIVE AND WELL

STEVE ROGERS STAYED WITH BUCKY AND DIDN’T THINK WITH HIS DICK

PETER PARKER IS HAPPY

INFINITY WAR AND ENDGAME NEVER HAPPENEDDDDDDDD

i scream as they drag me to a room with padded walls

[ironshieldchild]

i saw somewhere once a post that said "if tony stark was still alive he'd love making fun of john walker in steve's honor" and yeah i absolutely think that is true. and tony would be the most upset out of everyone, actually

[buckysleftbicep]

the scene where alexei says “engaging defensive measures” and pony by ginuwine starts playing is still top tier for me, the steam in the back with john and ava, and then yelena covering her face and then asking alexei who he’s driving makes me laugh every time i watch it. honestly love this father daughter duo

[chronic-hyperfixator]

[risrambles]

bucky barnes vs catching a fucking break

[yaboitegin]

How tf did I draw this?? Also Céline colors?? whaaatt???

[idk-maybe-i-did-it]

not for the world

where he doesn’t know why her sheets are drenched in blood, but he wouldn’t leave her to deal with it on her own.

warnings: lots of blood (it’s a period fic u guys), slight swearing, a few other things if you squint but I’m not saying them if you don’t see them

roughly 2k

a/n: this one fits into the world of what happens after dark but other fics aren’t required to understand, this one was almost entirely me expressing myself cause I’m in pain right now and wanted bucky lol

─────────

He knew something was wrong when she didn’t come out of their hall for dinner that night. Sometimes she slept early, sometimes she didn’t feel like coming out, but she almost always told him. Whether it had been through a glance, an exchange of thoughts, a text, a few words; she always let him know.

Maybe he went too far last night, maybe she actually didn’t want to deal with him, maybe— maybe it doesn’t matter.

Maybe it doesn’t matter because he really cares about her and she makes him laugh in the dark. She makes him smile when nobody else can.

Maybe it doesn’t matter if she’s mad because he’s been utterly wrecked by her and can’t stand to think of her in pain. The last time she’d been in her room this long without telling him— he doesn’t even want to think about what happened then.

The thought that maybe she’d done something bad again, or somehow found a way to injure herself on accident, is what sends him knocking on her door. He cares about her, more than he’d like to admit, and he’s becoming so damn tired of hiding it.

She doesn’t answer, not immediately. His gut twists and he knocks again, louder this time.

All that he gets in response is a little whimper, small and so quiet that he just knows she didn’t mean to make it. The noise sets off warning bells in his head, in his entire body, and it takes all his restraint to use the biometric scanner on the door instead of barreling into it.

The smell of iron hits him before anything else does, the sight afterwards making his blood go cold. Bucky’s moving and by her side within half a heartbeat, his hands yanking the blankets back from her body and—

Her bed sheets were soaked with blood, the comforter clinging to her lower body when he walked in. Her shorts, thighs, legs, lower back and abdomen, and bedsheets were absolutely destroyed from blood when he pulled the covers back.

“No no no, wake up for me, wake up for me doll.” His voice breaks, heart clenching in his chest as he shakes her side. Her name leaves his lips like a prayer, over and over again, as he slides his metal arm under her back and the other under her knees.

Her whimpers hurt him to his core, her little groans of pain as she clutches to him.

“Hurts,” she mutters, a desperate plea to her voice, a whole body flinch as he starts walking with her in his arms.

Confusion, panic, and a need to make sure she’s safe stampedes through him. His chest is rising quickly despite all his training and the panic won’t go away.

“Gotta tell me where it hurts,” he instructs begs as he kicks her bathroom door open and lays her down across the floor.

His eyes dart everywhere and anywhere all at once, a sweep from head to toe, and his hands clench as he keeps seeing blood. He’s used to seeing her blood, seeing her in blood, seeing her surrounded by blood, but it’s not normally this much, not of anyone else’s or her own.

More whimpers escape her lips as he holds her hip, keeping her flat on the floor. Her reaction makes his heart squeeze, his right hand reaching up to cup her cheek.

Her eyes, squeezed shut in pain. Her nose, scrunched in agony. Her hands, curling and uncurling around nothing. Her legs, curling upwards and into all the—

A realization smashes into his skull, gods, he’s so damn stupid.

“You on your period doll?” He only asks just to make sure, really shouldn’t have, really didn’t have to—

The shaky, whimpering nod of her head as she rolls it into the floor breaks him a little more.

“Are these your favorite shorts?” He asks as he digs around above them in the bathroom cabinet for a knife he knows she buried in there, she’s got about seven hidden around her room.

A small shake of her head, a pained whisper of consent as she cracks her eyes open and sees what he’s doing. Bucky meets those eyes, holds them for as long as she keeps them open, and pours everything he can’t say into his gaze before dropping it down.

Right. Shorts have got to go. He grasps the edge of them and holds the knife up to it bef—

Wait, he should start the shower first. He backpedals and stands a few feet away, reaching for the—

“can’t stand,” she whines from behind him, his plan obvious.

He backpedals again, squatting down for a second to press a kiss to her hairline before starting the tub in the corner behind her. His hands work quickly, twisting the knobs where he knows she likes them. Tony has this bathroom arranged weird, stupid new designs, he remembers when—

“Bucky,” she whines softly, one of her hands somehow having reached for him.

He’s at her side immediately, holding her hand gently and cradling her head from the floor.

“Hey, hey dove, it’s alright, I’m here okay? Gonna get you all cleaned up and back in bed alright?” He reassures her, watching her intently as the deep bathtub fills up.

She responds, but he doesn’t really understand most of it. Her words come out in blabbers and whines, whimpers lacing everything and making the concern only tighten more in his stomach.

His jaw clenches, brows pull together, and he looks away for a moment. He can’t stand to see her in so much pain, he’s never been able to.

He moves down to cut her shorts off again, asking her to meet his eye and waiting as she gives him permission, and soon she’s free of the blood soaked garments. He’s more careful with her shirt, he knows it’s one of her favorites, and soon enough he’s settling her down in the warm bath water.

She’s a mess, clinging to his arms once he sets her in there, tears dripping down her cheeks from the mixture of heat and pain, blood lifting from her skin and into the water. Her cheeks are pale and her skin flushed, she keeps mumbling about it being ‘too much’.

Bucky keeps an eye on her, leaned against the back of the tub, as he grabs the trash can from the corner and one of her scrunchies from the sink. He wraps her hair into a bun on her head, soft apologies as he pulls at it a little, and sets the trash can beside the tub because at this rate she looks like she’s going to puke.

“Gonna be right back, alright doll? Won’t be ten minutes I swear,” he promises her, hands gentle on her cheeks as he helps lean her back against the tub again.

He strips the bed quickly, pulling bloodied sheets off and pausing as he sees a blood soaked liner beneath them. Did she keep an extra layer under her sheets on purpose?

It doesn’t matter, he bundles all of them up, including the liner, and carries them down the hall into the laundry room along with her favorite sweatshirt. He takes care of all the usual things, soaking them in cold water first, before heading back to her room.

His right arm is blood smeared, so is his shirt and sweats, but he doesn’t mind. The bedsheets he finds easily, the liner too, and he works on pulling them onto the bed while she washes up in the tub. He wanted to help her, but based on the noises coming from the bathroom, she’s got it herself.

He goes to his room after checking in on her, grabbing some boxers and coming back in. He glanced at her underwear when she asked him for some but he didn’t know if she’d want to ruin any of her nice ones. Nice ones looked to be all she had.

Digging around in her bathroom was easy, setting one of her thicker pads up in his boxers a little more difficult, but he figured it out soon enough. He used to load and unload guns for a living, he could figure out a pad.

She seemed to be dozing off in the tub, the tang of iron sharp where she’d scrubbed the blood off, and he took the chance to clean the blood off her bathroom floor while she was out.

Bucky’s never done this before, cared for someone like this. He’s never cleaned spilled blood from a place of comfort before, never stripped bedsheets from anyone else’s bed, not since the 30s when him and Steve were having sleepovers and wrecking the place.

It’s oddly comforting, this feeling that settles in his chest. The pain, the panic, at seeing her like this, it’s comforting. It means he can feel again, he can care for someone without bringing more pain.

“Just curious,” he begins as he crouches by the tub, reaching in to drain it, “Is there normally this much blood?”

He didn’t mean to be rude or callous, he just wanted to make sure she was okay. But the wince on her face as he asks, fuck, it does him him.

“I didn’t mean it like that doll—“

“for someone who controls blood, you’d think I could control my own.” She jokes miserably, cracking weary, pained eyes open to watch him.

He moves with a purpose, lifting her up with one strong arm and wrapping her in a towel with his other. He’s gentle with her, hands not lingering and touching only where he needs. His movements are deft and precise, but soft and sweet too, as he helps her into the boxers he prepped, some shorts, and a short sleeved shirt he found in the closet.

She was running a fever when he found her, her whole body flushed and clammy, he wasn’t taking any chances even with her dropped temperature. His hands drop from her sides and clench around the towel and Bucky leans back on his thighs to watch her on the lid above him.

“So your powers make it worse?” He asks quietly, meeting her eye from the floor.

He’s worried, his concern increasing again when her breath quickens, when she meets his eye and her cheeks flush.

“Yeah, basically.” She mumbles softly, not able to hold his gaze any longer.

He rises onto his knees and a hand gently frames her face, searching her eyes for any sign of pain or discomfort. All he finds is embarrassment, flashes on pain, and something else. He doesn’t want to think about the something else too much, acknowledge how she’s looking at him, but he can focus on something else.

“There’s nothing to be ashamed of, you know that right?”

He hopes she does, but he knows she doesn’t. He knows that she’s embarrassed of this, ashamed of her body and her blood, and it kills him every time he’s reminded of it.

He lets his left arm settle on her wrist, his thumb brushing softly against the landscape of skin while his other palm stretches across her jaw and cheek.

“Look at me,” he whispers her name afterwards in a plea, needing her to understand.

Determination and tenderness filled his eyes as he met her own, and Bucky made sure she saw everything.

“You are human, these things happen. There is nothing to be ashamed of.” His throat clamped with emotion and his voice cracked near the end, his eyes burning with unshed tears as looked at her. As he said with his eyes what he couldn’t with his lips.

You are human.

You have scars and they’re just an extension of you.

You bleed and that’s alright.

You’re messy and you’re a work of art.

You are deserving of everything good in this world.

—

“What d’ya need Doll?” He asks softly, his eyes scanning her.

They’re settled on her bed again, he has her propped in a cocoon of pillows, and against himself.

Her arm wrapping tight around his waist, her head burying into his clean t-shirt. The trembles and flinches from her pain making his grip tighten on her.

“stay?”

“of course.” a chaste kiss to her hair, an arm wrapped securely around her.

He wouldn’t leave her for the world.

[hurtspideyparker]

Bucky Barnes in Civil War is in pure survival mode; he's a house cat who's been lost on the streets and gone feral. Steve is reaching out a palm to bring him home but there are dogs barking and cars honking and a stranger is walking too close. He runs. It always ends in a fight

[steve-rogers-language]

Welcome class.

Our subject for today is -

"Communities" the LGBTQIA+ does NOT accept and does NOT identify with.

"MAP," what does that stand for? Minor Attracted Person.

In other words a pedophile.

The reason "MAP's" say they are accepted into the LGBTQ community is so they can blame the LGBTQ community for their disgusting behaviors.

The LGBTQ community does NOT identify or accept pedophiles. "Minor Attracted Person" is NOT a real thing, they are just a pedophile.

If you see a flag like this -

Be warned. They are a pedophile. This is NOT a real LGBTQ flag.

Any questions class?

[jemgirl86]

Hey, why are so many of you pretending that you don’t know that there are two related, yet different, problems happening at once:

Yes, we understand that the new avengers aren’t particularly accepted by the public within universe, it was obvious, but that doesn’t change the fact that it’s actually absurd that this team even exists within the marvel cinematic universe lol. Also, it’s extra nonsensical that Bucky would even agree to be on this team. It makes him look like a bad friend, and a person with questionable character. Bucky chose to work with Walker, who tried to kill his best friend, Sam, and is still running around in a way that undermines and tarnishes Sam’s legacy, and he’s working with him on a team funded by (and likely controlled by, despite whatever nonsense Yelena says or thinks) the lady who is actively trying to hurt Wakanda, the same lady he was supposed to help Congressman Gary bring to justice.

Bucky is betraying everyone who has ever helped him by willingly being on this team. And, yes, he is doing it willingly. He could shut this shit down at any moment, he just doesn’t want to, and that makes him a crappy friend. Even if it turns out later that he has a “good” or “legitimate” reason for working with Walker and Val and other people who openly disrespect his friends, if he’s not telling those friends the reasons, it still makes him a crappy friend 🤷🏾‍♀️ And, again, he’s also a person of questionable character because why would he agree to work with any team, not just controlled by the government, but by the head of the CIA at that??!!

The other thing is actually more important and upsetting, but can be explained far more succinctly: TPTB at Disney/Marvel are feeding into, and even encouraging, their racist fans by sidelining Sam Wilson and other Black characters and characters of color, even if they’re doing it for “the plot.” These execs are not stupid, they know how their fandom is, and they know how they’ll react to things like the Tbolts PCS and ad campaign. They’re egging on the Not My Cap crowd with the writing and current direction of the MCU, and I don’t believe they don’t know it.

Listen, let me give you an example: Every time John’s time as Captain America was referenced, every time someone mocked him for it or whatever, even though they were making fun of him, nobody ever mentioned Sam. During all, or even one of those instances, somebody could’ve said: “well, Sam Wilson is Captain America, not you,” or something like that, but they didn’t. In fact, as a viewer it felt like they were going out of their way to not say who Captain America is, to not say Sam’s name. It was weird and jarring. Then, when they finally did mention his name, it was to basically make him the butt of the joke, and they did it in a way that they had to have known would cause the MCU fandom, especially Bucky stans, to attack Sam.

Look, none of this is unintentional, and y’all have to start acknowledging it. It’s silly to pretend you don’t know what people are complaining about.

[deadtired-highkeyenergetic]

Stars That Shine

So it was supposed to be normal angst. And then I don't know what happened. But back to school assignments I go.

Summary: Bucky visits a grave for the last time.

The skies are grey today. Rain falls to the ground, turning the soil beneath his feet a dark brown. Still he trudges on, ignoring the way his dark brown locks plaster to his face until he reaches his destination.

He stares at the simple grey slate that is before him, inscribed with words you had chosen and traces over the grooves with a finger. His heart clenches, the words ringing in his ears, your voice whispering softly in the wind. Shakily placing the flower he had brought along on the ground, he sits in the pouring rain, hugging his knees to his chest. Silent salty tears mingle with the rainwater, streaming down his cheeks and dripping onto the dirt that swallows it all up. His throat feels raw, itchy even and he swallows a cough.

All words escape him, now that he's here. Everything he had planned to say, lost to the howling winds so he sits there, mind blank with grief. The chill bites his flesh now that you're no longer here to keep him warm, the cold seeps in and he shivers. He wants to go back to cryofreeze, to forget any of this happened but he knows you won't forgive him if he does that. You'd fought so hard to keep Hydra's tentacles from him, willingly going back would only sully your memory.

"I don't understand. You should hate me, I killed your brother."

"I don't hate you. I hate what the Winter Soldier did, but you're not him anymore. You're a different person now, for what that's worth."

He doesn't know why that memory surfaces now. It clogs his throat, causes him to tremble, causes more tears to flow unbidden and he feels himself unravel.

You were everything to him, even if he never outrightly told you that. You were his world, the single unwavering light in the darkness, the anchor that kept him grounded to the present. He'd fallen for you the moment he saw the fire in your eyes, the way you protected those you loved. Your loyalty and devotion had stolen his breath away, your kindness and gentleness had put the stars in his eyes. He'd melted every time your gazes met, frozen in time until you turned away.

Despite it all, he'd convinced himself that you hated him. He'd taken everything away from you, ripped your last living family from you. You had every reason to despise him, but even so you'd stood up for him. Sure your words were always had an edge to them, your wits as sharp as your blade but it had never truly been hurtful. You still treated him like a teammate, albeit reluctantly, and he had caught glimpses of concern sent his way before on missions that you always vehemently denied.

He never could stop his heart from yearning for you, Sam said as much. Sam enjoyed teasing him about his crush on you, intricately describing the stars in his eyes that appeared whenever he laid eyes on you until Bucky's cheeks were hot with embarrassment and the tips of his ears burned red. That always ended in Bucky threatening to give Redwing a free makeover and Steve intervening before things got out of hand.

He had never been safe from Steve's teasing either, although Steve's was more bearable. His best friend had pointed out that he was always grumpy until you showed up and suddenly he would light up. Steve had loved the way you made Bucky feel, the hope you gave him of a brighter future, although Bucky swore Steve kept talking about you like he was a matchmaker.

Bucky exhales shakily, grasping the pendant hanging around his neck tightly. You'd given it to him, saying that you wanted it back once you finished the mission. He was only to help you keep it safe until you returned, and the only reason you had chosen him for that task was because he was the only one with a brain cell who wasn't going on the mission with you.

He'd lorded that fact over Tony for the next week.

But you never came back to reclaim it. You were only supposed to be gone for a week, but one week turned to two, and then to a month and there was still no sign of you. The others had returned without you and search parties were sent out but to no avail. Anxiety gnawed away at him with each passing day, tearing him apart from the inside until he could stand it no more. He'd slipped away in the dead of night, stealing a jet to go to where you were last seen, hoping to catch a glimpse of you, to find you, return the pendant and bring you back home.

He'd gotten his wish, only not in the way he'd envisioned. He'd found you, but instead of sharp witty one liners he'd gotten the cruel howling of the snowy wind over a lifeless husk. Instead of a warm punch to the chest he'd gotten a freezing stab to the heart. Instead of hope he'd found despair.

He'd screamed his anger and grief to the heavens amidst the snow storm, tears freezing on his face the moment they were shed. He'd punched the snow so hard it left a deep indent the size of his fist, kicked the nearest tree and left his boot mark on its trunk but the agony still remained, threatening to overwhelm him. He'd cursed until he had no more curses to give, begged until his throat went hoarse but your body still lay there, as cold and unmoving as the moment he found you. He'd clawed at his own skin, drawing blood as he desperately attempted to alleviate the pain he was feeling but it only bit back harder.

He'd collapsed right next to you after that, passing out and the only reason the two of you were found in that blizzard was because Natasha had tracked the jet. He'd wished the Avengers had never found him just so that he could escape from the pain that was eating him alive but here he was — alive while you were dead. He'd have given everything to switch places with you, he deserved it after what he'd done but fate laughed cruelly at him with each passing moment, watching as a shell of a man took breath after breath even though he had nothing to live for anymore.

He didn't show up for your funeral. He'd disappeared for the days leading up to it and the week after, vanishing somewhere even Steve and Sam didn't know. He hadn't known what words were to be engraved on your tombstone but apparently you'd written them in your will.

"Not a party type?" His footsteps sound way too loud in the quiet stillness of the night.

"I love parties, that's why I'm here on the balcony instead of down there on the dance floor." Sarcasm drips from your words, making him chuckle.

"Unfortunate. Mind if I join you?" He moves to stand next to you, holding out a glass of champagne.

"You've bought however long I take to drain this glass." You start drinking, not even giving him a chance to prepare.

"Do you only ever wear black?" He blurts out, unable to formulate a proper conversation topic with the pressure nipping at his heels. It work, however, because you pause, lowering the glass from your lips to stare at him incredulously.

"Amazing conversation starter, Barnes. And no, I do not. Black is however the easiest colour to work with so it's the main colour in my wardrobe." With that you resume your drinking, draining the glass of every single drop.

"Gold would look nice on you. Or a brighter colour, at the very least." He watches you turn to leave, empty glass in hand.

"I'd look like gaudy star," you snort in reply.

"Even gaudy stars shine brilliantly in the night sky." You'd stopped in your tracks at his words, turning to look over your shoulder. That was the first time he'd gotten you to smile at something he said.

"That's cheesy, Barnes. Try again next time. Until we meet again."

He couldn't bring himself to try again. The words always got stuck in his throat and something or someone always interrupted him whenever he thought about it. So he'd watched from afar, suppressing the feeling whenever it threatened to boil over. You'd danced around him, showing hints of softness but never quite committing and he'd followed your lead, teetering on the edge until he fell.

You were the only one who saw him as James Buchanan Barnes, not the Winter Soldier, not Sergeant Barnes, not Bucky. Just plain old James, and it made him feel something he couldn't quite explain. You'd seen through the cracks in his armour, seen the real him, not the facade he put up to try and fit in with the world. He never knew what you thought of the real him, and would never know. It's too late to ask now, but somehow, he's sure he already knows the answer. After all, the answer always laid in the looks you shot him during those moments of vulnerability.

Even gaudy stars shine brilliantly in the night sky.

He traces those words carved into your tombstone once more, feeling the grooves in the otherwise smooth grey slab and coughs, bloodstained petals floating onto the damp ground.

Until we meet again.

[winterinhimring]

Ok ok ok, so we've all seen the Spiderman in Gotham AUs, but what do you think would happen if STEVE ROGERS wound up in Gotham??? Specifically, how would he deal with The Tortures People for Fun Joker?

Ooh, I like this one. I think the critical thing about Steve (from a vigilante perspective) is that he doesn't like killing, it's not his first resort, and he won't do it unnecessarily, but he absolutely will do it if it's clear that this guy won't stop any other way, especially if civilians are in danger.

That said, he also respects the rule of law, and he's now the only true enhanced on the side of the heroes in Gotham, so I think his first couple of run-ins with the Joker would probably end similarly to the way they would if it was Batman. Joker gets bruised up a bit, tackled away from whatever he was doing, trussed up and stuck in Arkham.

The exception is if Steve turns up in Gotham during a very critical point with a very specific Robin, because he's going to see a man cackling and beating a masked child with a crowbar. And, see, Steve had a masked kid follow him around once (if we mean comics!Steve), and that masked kid got hurt too, and yes he came back, but he didn't come back the same. He came back hurt and used in ways Steve would have given anything to protect him from. All of which is to say, I don't think the Joker actually lives long enough to know what hit him in this scenario.

But let's go back to somewhat less angsty AUs. The Joker, at this point, when he's been stopped and dropped in Arkham a couple of times, is likely to write Steve off as another man with a moral code he can manipulate. Which, fair, Steve is a man with a moral code, but the Joker's vision has been skewed by Batman, and he assumes all heroes have a no kill code. He proceeds to set up the same kind of mind games he would with Batman - he takes hostages, he hurts hostages, and he relies on 'well you'll never take lethal measures' to protect him. He might even throw in a few taunts. 'How easy it would be, if you weren't such a hero, with those clean hands.'

But Steve has an answer to that, an easy one. 'I'm not a hero. The guys who didn't come back, they're the heroes. I'm just trying to live up to them. And maybe my hands aren't clean. But the blood of a man who tortures children won't dirty them.'

At which point, RIP Joker.

Bruce doesn't know what to think of this.

Alfred, who hides guns in the mansion, even if he bows to Bruce's sentiments enough to use non-lethal rounds, has a new favourite person. (This does not displace any of his other favourite people, of course.)

Gotham winds up in the very interesting situation where, if you're a criminal, the Batman is no longer the man you fear most. The Batman is terrifying. He steps out of dark alleys like he materialised there, beats the daylights out of you, and leaves you for the cops, but you know he won't kill you.

No, the man you fear most, if you live in Gotham's underbelly, is the one with the shield and the star-spangled outfit. Because that shield is for defence, but it's for the defence of the innocent. And if you are a man who endangers the innocent, the man who carries that shield will not hesitate to stop you the permanent way.

Batman gives Gotham hope. Hope that will never stay down no matter how hard you hit or how badly you hurt it. Batman, ironically, is the light of dawn at the darkest of night, promising that a new day can come.

Captain America gives Gotham justice. Justice that will not be turned aside by crooked cops or Arkham's revolving door or hostages. Captain America is the light of righteousness that burns away what is evil. His justice can be tempered with mercy, but his kindness is not to be manipulated.

Together, they lead Gotham into a brighter future.

Bruce Wayne and Steve Rogers are mutually unsure what to do with each other. Their upbringings and philosophies are so different that I think it would be hard for them to be friends, at least at first. Alfred knows perfectly well what to do with both of them and thinks Master Bruce needs a friend who shares his commitment to justice, but also won't bow to his hangups. He invites Steve over for tea. They get on like a very polite house on fire. The current Robin thinks the shield is AWESOME.

However, I think Steve and Bruce share enough common ground that they would work through it eventually. (If we went with the Steve-saves-Jason scenario I think a lot of the wary dancing around each other would get skipped because they'd both be all in on 'save the kid' and only find out about their differences of opinion later.) They are both devoted to justice and the defence of the innocent; they differ on methods, but I honestly think the issues would be mostly on Bruce's side, because Steve is clearly, uncompromisingly good. But he's killed. He may kill again. It depends on how self-aware Bruce is about his no-kill line being a personal thing he can't do without sliding into revenge. If he knows that, and doesn't have an issue with others who don't have that personal knowledge, there might not be problems at all. There would be some entertaining rich-kid-poor-kid differences in worldview, but nothing so serious they couldn't be friends.

Entertainingly, this world also carries the possibility of Cap meeting Superman. I think he and Clark would be friends immediately and Ma Kent would adopt him as soon as she heard of him. No angst there, no confusion of different ideologies. You fight for peace, justice, and the American way? So do I! Same hat! Let's go stop those bad guys. Hey, cool shield!

(At some point in the future: Lex Luthor: Superman, I have your ultimate weakness! Kryptonite! Clark, keeling over: That's great, but have you met my new friend? Steve: *punches Lex* Lex, seeing what looks like a blonde Superman clone: How are you unaffected by this? It's kryptonite! Steve: ...I'm from Brooklyn.)

(Years later: Clark, picking up a kryptonite spear: I have to kill Doomsday. Steve: Gimme that. *yeets spear, impaling Doomsday* Steve: How many times do I have to tell you, *I* use the kryptonite weapons when something from your planet tries to kill us!)