thenameswinterfics

[thenameswinterfics]

So, I know this post comes out of the blue (and no one asked for this), but after a conversation I had with a moot this morning, I feel like the urge to share this and (I hope) to help who's struggling with writing like me in this period.

It will be a very long talk, so read under the cut.

When I first started to write here on Tumblr was for The Last Kingdom fandom, and it was after I read tons and tons of fics about my favourite character. I was too shy to ask my moots and writers I follow to write stories for me and so, with my terrible English grammar and all the knowledge I had of him, in May 2024 I posted my first Sihtric x Reader fic. It was nothing special plot-wise, just a tooth rotting fluff I had to let out after reading a passage from a book. But for me it was, a lot.

Writing has become a funny hobby to me, and despite all my insecurities and urges to delete all my writing and write it again, I still managed to finish them and posted them.

Because this is what us writers do. We brainrot on our favourite character, vomit our fantasies on a document and then post it with the thought of sharing it with someone who could resonate with us. I remember how happy and excited I was when I posted my first fics, eager to know what my moots thought on my own headcanons or how I write that type of characters we all love and cherish.

There were times I was happy and carefree, living in my own world.

Then, my first writer's block came.

When I came back to writing, I was still excited, but less carefree than before. I became more cautious with what I write, and I became more perfectionist than I was before.

Still, I somehow managed to post all my fics and being excited when my moots read and reblogged them, or when some follower was happy to share it in their blog.

I was in a small fandom. Interaction there didn't really matter: only the pure joy and excitement to share to the world your endless love you have for the character.

My fics never passed more than 300 notes. The only one who did it was my first (and for now only) Cregan x Reader fic I posted in September 2024. I was happy I had a big reception, but most importantly I was happy there were people who loved my version of the character, it made me more confident as a writer.

Then, in October something happened. And the spell broke.

I wrote my first Bucky fic for a Halloween event, and I was terribly excited to post it because it was the first time I wrote for a character I love and cherish for a good decade. I was terribly nervous about it too, because Bucky's fandom is wide and I was afraid I could be attacked for the way I wrote him.

I posted it, everything was going to be fine.

But when in days I saw my fic got not more than 20 notes, I was a bit disappointed.

Still, I didn't let it get me down and I wrote my last Sihtric x Reader fic before taking a break from writing him for several reasons I won't explain here.

When I saw it got 50/60 notes, I fell into a deep crisis.

I started questioning myself as a writer, if I was really good as I thought and my moots said or I was getting too big for my britches. I even questioned myself if it was worth putting a lot of effort in my writings since I had this poor reception.

Back that time I wasn't aware I was falling in the vicious circle of checking the notifications every time I post something.

This made me slip into another writer's block, even worse than before.

I temporaly broke it in February, because I wanted to post a birthday fic for a moot, but when I came back, this time, it was all different.

I wrote for Bucky again, eager to prove that I can overcome that previous flop that was that Halloween fic. I started outline my first series of him, "Between Dark and The Void", and I was incredibly thrilled to write all the chapters and post them to the Bucky fandom.

I didn't realize I was making lots of mistakes:

I immediately wrote the first chapter and post it. It was an impulsive though, but I had to prove I could have a good reception too if I was able to write a chapter and soon post it.

I made the masterlist soon after posting the first chapter. Even there, I wanted to get as many reception as possible so more people could reach my fic.

My writing style changed totally. I became too perfectionist, the preliminar stage to writing was totally absent in this case. It has to be perfect, like a gift wrapped in the finest gift paper and exposed in a luxurious shop. I lost lots of time to rewrite a phrase perfectly, to write the most fabricated lines to prove I can be a good writer as well, that I can manage words as well.

My inner crisis reached his peak when I saw my fic hit only 100 notes. It was still good, a moot said to me. But for me? It was a total flop.

I started be angry. Angry with myself and with the entire world. I feel ashamed to admit I felt anger and deep jealousy for all the Bucky's moots that posted their fics and have more than 500 receptions in their fic. However, I knew that they didn't deserve my fury, so I kept doing what I can do best: reading and supporting their writing, because this is the reason why moots are here. To love and support each other like they are best friends in real life.

The reason why the second chapter of Between Dark and The Void is not out yet is because I gave up the serie. In my corrupted mind, it wasn't worth wasting time to write a chapter only three souls will read and reblog it.

I came with the decision to post all my fics here on the main rather than my fic account. Not only the reason was because for me it has become difficult to manage three blogs, but I also did it with the subdue intention of improve my engagement here.

I took a pause with writing because I had to prepare my last exam before the graduation. It was there, in my little free time, I came back and read all my old fics. I felt a pang of nostalgia in reading them, because there's something in them I can't find in my new fics anymore.

The love and enjoyment I have in writing them.

I lost this, and for what? For the seek of glory and to be recognized, because deep in my heart I wanted to be recognized by strangers too. And the ones that are close to me and truly appreciate what I create? I've never thanked them enough.

With this, I want to thank six people that stood with me and hear me rambling about this silly thing that I know if the old me would hear this, she would punch in my face. Thank you so much to @sylasthegrim , @zaldritzosrose , @foxyanon , @legitalicat , @bcksbarnes and @whitedarkmoonflower for listening to my nonsenses, to console me when I felt terribly down and for make me see reason. I feel stupid that I only just got there, so let me apologise for that.

And it's with tears in my eyes I have decided that my next Bucky fic I'll write will be made from the heart, with all the imperfections it can have. I will write a terrible version at first and then edit it as many times as necessary. I won't set myself deadlines anymore, nor will I worry if I make those few people who really want to read my fics wait so long. Writing has always been a hobby and a joy for me, a way to express my insane love I have for characters, and I won't let a poor reception deprive me of this anymore.

I will write and cheer with the few ones who will read and appreciate it. It could be one, two, ten, but I will be happy nonetheless.

I will also come back writing again BDATV, because I had so much fun outlining it I won't let a poor reception ruining this anymore!

To the ones that are struggling to write right now, to the ones who lost their spark as I did: please, don't allow anything to deprive you of your joy of writing. Tumblr is weird with notes lately, but it's not your fault. For a million of accounts signed in this platform, there will surely be a dozen who will reblog and reasonate with your writing.

Because the most important thing is not how you write it, but it's the way you express your feelings with words.

I'm so sorry this is such a long reading, but I had to share this experience with all of you.

Thank you for the ones who will read this.

I love you all with my whole heart.

[thenameswinterfics]

⋆˙⟡♡ winter | she/her | 26 | about me

I have two sideblogs: ⋆˙⟡♡ library blog: thenameswinterfics ⋆˙⟡♡ gif blog: thenameswintergifs

More infos under the cut...

I'm a multifandom fic writer, mainly writing for The Last Kingdom, Marvel and House Of The Dragon. I mainly write for Sihtric Kjartansson, Bucky Barnes and Cregan Stark. More fandoms and more characters will likely be add in my writing roster in the future.

I crosspost here on Tumblr and on AO3.

This blog is 18+ and contains mature contents. Minors DNI.

I never, NEVER give the permission for my works to be translated (I can translate on my own in my native language whenever I feel the need to) or to be reposted in sites outside Tumblr or used to feed AI in general.

⋆˙⟡♡ masterlist ⋆˙⟡♡ ao3 account ⋆˙⟡♡ fic requests are currently open! here's the request guidelines. ⋆˙⟡♡ last fic: between dark and the void - chapter 1 ⋆˙⟡♡ if you want to see my reviews on other's fics, track the tag #wintersficrec

⋆˙⟡♡ daeron targaryen x florent!reader - fluff ⋆˙⟡♡ bucky barnes x reader - fluff

image credits to the owners dividers credits: @cafekitsune Header and banner credits: @legitalicat

[thenameswinterfics]

Thank you for the reccomendation! 💜

was looking for some tlk fics and damn this draught is crazy 😣😣

[thenameswinterfics]

BETWEEN DARK AND THE VOID

Chapter 1 - L'Appel Du Vide

Header by me | Dividers by @emmanexelle | 18+ banner by @inklore

READ IT ON AO3

Pairing: Thunderbolts!Bucky Barnes x MutantFemale!Reader Setting: Thunderbolts* Summary: Reluctantly, after a call you accept to help Bucky, your ex-boyfriend, with a task. What should have been a simple impeachment becomes a New York rescue mission, swallowed by a mysterious dark fog. After failing to save two innocent people, and overwhelmed by guilt from your dark past, you answer the call of The Void and abandon yourself to the uncertainty of nothingness. It's up to Bucky to save you and bring you back. Word Count: 6.2 K Chapter Warnings: Thunderbolts* spoilers, Reader is a mutant with the molecular reconfiguration powers, angst, hurt, mention of past trauma, typical canon violence, mention of torture (not described), Reader being mean at first, protective Bucky, no use of y/n. If I have missed some CW, please let me know and I'll add them!

AN: I'm back, this time for real! I never thought that a Marvel movie and my old obsession with Bucky Barnes would bring the writing muses back to me. This is the first fic after some months of writing's block, so apologize if it's not perfect. Many thanks to my wife @sylasthegrim for helping me with the title and to my love @bcksbarnes for beta reading, brainstorming through the fic outline, being my cheerleader and simply bear with me. You're the best, I love you with all my heart! I highly expect this to flop, so thank you for the few ones who will read it.

ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE. I APOLOGISE IN ADVANCE FOR MY GRAMMAR AND VOCABULARY MISTAKES.

BUCKY BARNES MASTERLIST | BETWEEN DARK AND THE VOID MASTERLIST

Appel du vide: "The call of the void". French term that explains an urge to do something dangerous even though you don’t intend to.

The streets of New York had never been so dark.

The skyscrapers that once towered over the city, imposing and gleaming, now disappeared into a veil of darkness, their figures swallowed up in an ominous embrace. Even cars and people seemed to suffer the same fate, falling into a dark hole that slowly, but dangerously, spread through the streets; swallowing everything in its path.

Above this dark fog, Void stood, now in full control of Bob, watching the chaos unfold beneath his feet, not blinking at the high-pitched screams of people running for safety. As he stood, like a god descending to earth to judge mankind, he slowly raised a hand, transforming people into powdery silhouettes stuck to the ground, soon to be moulded by the impending darkness as it moved swiftly towards the crowd.

It was like the scene of one of the most terrifying horror films: planes crashing next to buildings, piles of rubble falling from the sky and destroying everything in sight, cries of children looking for their parents. People ran with every ounce of strength they had left to escape this dark nightmare that was spreading across the city like a living shadow, swallowing up hope, light and every trace of normal life in its relentless path.

But this was the reality. And nothing would seem willing to stop this madness.

You paused under a porch with the rest of the Thunderbolts, your cheeks flushed as you placed your palm against the cold plaster of the wall, your chest rising and falling at a fast pace. You could hear Bucky muttering a few words as he watched the city go pitch black, Walker holding an unstable Alexei, ranting about losing Yelena and not forgiving himself. Ava was the only one silent, pondering her next move, and you were glad that your powers did not allow you to read people's minds, or you would go mad between your own thoughts and those of others.

You knew something was wrong the moment Bucky called you after months of silence; given the strained relations between you two, you were even surprised that the former Hydra assassin - now Brooklyn Congressman - had the time to dial your number and ask for your support with a mission.

You were different from the other heroes and villains who lived among humans — there was something deep and unpredictable in your genetics that set you apart. Most of them chose to become one voluntarily, undergoing genetic experiments to enhance their physical abilities. Others were tech geniuses who compensated for their lack of physical strength with their intellect, building armour and other technical equipment to support civilians. Then there were those who were simply highly trained agents and assassins, who had spent most of their lives honing their bodies into weapons for use for either good or evil.

But you? You were born with powers; your genes had been mutating naturally ever since you were in your mother's womb. There were no labs, no special training, no choices. It was just you, emerging with untamed powers cursing through your veins, marking you as someone superior to the humans.

In the same way you didn’t choose who to work with, you were too young to understand the wrong hands you had fallen into. You were a victim of your own father’s plans to rule the world, seeing you as both his cherished daughter and his precious weapon.

After years of being chained against your will, you became a free spirit, travelling the world and playing the role of the hero you'd never been, helping people and saving them from the clutches of enemies. No matter how strong or bizarre the villains were, whether they were dangerous aliens from another universe or little bullies tormenting the weak boy at school: you would be there, steady and vigilant, protecting every human in your sight. Whether this was your sudden calling, or simply a way to lift your shoulders from the burden of your past, orto keep your hands clean from the innocent blood spilled, was hard for you to know.

But as you listened to Congressman Barnes' voice - low and soft, which was how he usually spoke to you - rattle on about a crucial task for the New York citizens, you realised how high the stakes were.

He called it “impeachment”, a way to remove Valentina and her shady business away from the CIA and the government, and valid witnesses were still on the loose. Four former assassins who cleaned the mess the woman made, four valid testimonies that would make Val’s empire fall like a house of cards. Who better than you to know the best tactics to track down a group of former criminals and catch them?

A part of you wanted to refuse — you were “cleaned” from that shady business. And how could you ever work for the political machine that still had a price on your head, after being a former criminal yourself? The same twisted mechanism that drove a wall between you and Bucky? 

Yet, the shivers that ran down your spine when you heard Bucky's voice, the way his tongue rolled deliciously every time he called you 'doll', the pleading tone of his request, the puppy-dog steel-blue eyes that you could almost feel through the screen…it made it hard for you to decline.

And so there you were, stuck with your ex-boyfriend and a bunch of people you barely met less than 24 hours before, one of them lost into the darkness. 

Not the best situation to find yourself in the last moments of your life. 

“I’m going after her,” Ava said, breaking the silence as she marched quickly through the dark fog that continued to spread.

Bucky grabbed her arm with his vibranium hand, stopping her from carrying out her plan. “And then what?”

“If she walked there, she did it for a reason,” Ava answered quickly, nervously looking at the black fog spreading.

“What if she’s dead? What if there’s no coming back?” Bucky countered, the frustration and worry in his voice clear to hear. They had already lost Yelena, as well as many others who had fallen victim to Void’s actions. Deep down, he was regretful for not being the hero he wanted to be, and for letting down all the people who had applauded him just minutes before the disaster was unleashed.

It was a sight that reminded him of all the sleepless nights and looming nightmares, and of that damn little notebook with all those names marked in it, deluding him into believing he was absolved of sins he himself was not the main perpetrator of. 

Your heart ached to see him so defeated. So remorseful. 

"He's right, Ava," you said, standing up straight and joining the conversation. Your voice was still slightly breathless from the previous run. “Did we all see what happened to Yelena?” She was there with us, flesh and blood, with just a few scratches on her pretty face. And now? Puff! Vanished! Gone!” You grabbed your knees, allowing your lungs to catch as much air as they could before continuing. “Let’s get one thing straight. We lost. Just… how can we protect the people of this city if we aren’t able to defend ourselves? We can’t win against that thing. It’s over.”

A heavy silence fell over the group, and you almost cursed yourself for what you had said. Had they lifted the group's spirits? Of course not. 

“You know? You have many great qualities, but comforting people isn’t one of them” said Ava, breaking the silence once again. Her voice was decisive and carried a hint of disdain. Then, she faced Bucky again, her gaze sweeping over the city. “And about Yelena. What if she isn’t gone?”

“How do you know that?” Bucky replied, his voice a little lower as he resumed his argument with her. You turned your head to look for any human who had escaped the powers of the Void, and that was where your world stopped.

And Bucky's words were the last you heard.

Everything around you grew muffled and distant, as if you were sinking underwater. You could hear Walker muttering something to the team, but his words seemed to come from miles away. Alexei's voice was next, you were sure of it, but this time you couldn’t make out his exact words. A third voice called out to you - who was it this time? Ava? Bucky? You imagining Yelena’s witty comments over you? You couldn't tell - it sounded like distant echoes. 

You seemed gone, your mind disconnected from your body, travelling to another universe. But the truth was that something - or someone - caught your attention. 

Your gaze was drawn to a small figure in the distance, wriggling through the rubble, and the rest of the world faded away. You could hear and feel the child’s loud cries in your ears and in your heart. You could feel your eardrums ringing and your chest tightening in an uncomfortable vice. Next to the child was a woman who quickly scooped him up and ran as if her life depended on it. They were running away — or at least trying to — desperately seeking refuge to save themselves temporarily.

They were like the same civilians that you had tried to help before but failed to save, and who had now been sucked into the void. 

And suddenly your words ceased to make sense.

“We lost”, suddenly echoed in your head. “How can we protect the people of this city if we aren’t able to defend ourselves?” These words made you wrinkle your nose in disgust. How could you ever call yourself a hero when your mind was clouded by such pessimistic thoughts? Had you not sworn to protect the most vulnerable after leaving your brutal past behind?

The shame of your words gnawed at you, raw and relentless. Hearing the mother reassure her son, keeping her nerves steady despite the situation made you feel the urge to act again. They were a reminder of how hard they were still fighting. How they were still trying.

This gave you a new sense of hope. Maybe the war was far from over.

You quickly stood up, your hands trembling and adrenaline suddenly rushing through your veins as if your body had awoken from a paralysed state. Without thinking, you started running towards them, your mind filled with a new sense of purpose.

But your dreams of glory were cut short by a firm grasp on your arm and the coldness of metal beneath your leather tactical suit. You turned your gaze and saw Bucky watching you with a clenched jaw and a severe but worried look in his steel-blue eyes.

“Where do you think you're going, doll?” he asked in a low, gravelly voice, pulling you close with a firm grip. It was bruising, but not tight enough to cause pain.

“Let me go, Barnes!” you replied through clenched teeth, jerking your arm free. He loosened his grip and you stood facing each other while the rest of the group watched, ready to intervene if either of you lost your temper.

“There are still civilians out there who can be saved. I’ll go and keep them safe-”

“So what? Do you want to end up like Yelena? Disappearing inside that black thing and leaving no trace?” Bucky snapped at you, your sudden recklessness was the last thing he needed. There was no venom in his words, only concern and… Was it protectiveness what you felt?

“You've seen how devastated Alexei is. Do you think we can face another loss like that? Well, let me tell you something, doll. We can’t take another loss like that. I can’t bear the thought of losing you!”

You stared at him, stunned by his words. You noticed how his voice faltered when he said he couldn’t bear your absence, how his body trembled when he was overcome with anger and fear, and the apprehension lurking beneath his words. Suddenly, memories of your past together rushed wildly through your mind, making your breathing quicken and your heart hammer in your chest.

That was the Bucky you fell in love with. The damaged super soldier who struggled to find his place in the world. The man who would scream in the middle of the night, beads of sweat on his forehead, and you would rush to his side, cradling him in your arms and mentally curse Hydra for the damage they had done to him. The sweet, caring and overly protective man who would always watch your back on missions, check your wounds and kiss every inch of your bruised skin to ease the pain. The man who would not hesitate to sacrifice his life for you.

But that part of him died the moment he chose to run for Congress, hiding behind a cloak of righteousness that felt uncharacteristic. You could see it in the way he immersed himself in the country's twisted politics, pretending to read file after file and barely acknowledging your presence in the house. You could see it in the way he came home late and stressed from endless meetings, barely having time for you. And when you chose to run away and find your own place in the world? There were no messages, no missed calls and no attempt to trace you.

You became strangers. Never before had you considered going back to when life was easier for the two of you, when you would cuddle up together, feeling the ghost of his lips on yours.

No, there was no time to regret what had been. The lives of ordinary people were more important than a futile argument.

“James,” you called him, his real name felt strange on your tongue. “I saw a mother and child running through the streets, trying to find shelter. They can’t save themselves if we stand here mulling over what to do.”

You saw Bucky moving around nervously, his hands firmly on his hips and his gaze darting between the black fog and you. “You will fail like all the others we have saved before. Like we failed to keep Yelena with us. If they're not dead, they're stuck in that nightmare from which there's no escape."

“We don’t know if we don’t try!” you countered back, frustration rising in your voice as you heard the few people’s screams die behind you, making you more and more nervous.

“Oh, so Miss ‘We-Fail-Because-We-Suck’ feels guilty and decided to return to action?” Walker joined the conversation, a hint of mockery in his serious voice. 

“I don't need you to remind me of what I said before, Walker, thank you,”' you replied, annoyed. “Stay here and mutter all you want, but those two people outside are still our last hope, and I won’t be the one to let them down.”

You approached Bucky with slow and deliberate steps, your hand raised in an attempt to cup his cheek but you stopped mid air, afraid that he would not welcome your gesture. It was the intensity of his gaze that made you want to give up, but then your hand was on his cheek, gently rubbing his stubble. 

“I’ve seen that look of yours, James. Every damn time. You think it’s because of you why we’re all stuck here, you feel guilty because you brought us with you and see the failure of your actions in our eyes,” you spoke to him, low and soft, as if you were talking to a frightened child, “You have done more than enough. You couldn't have foreseen that this would happen. You have all played your part. Now it's my turn. Let me make things right for once in my life.”

You were about to turn and leave the group when you felt a sudden warmth anchor you in place — a firm, slightly trembling hand covering yours. Bucky's hand held yours with an intensity you hadn't felt in years. In that breathless instant, his steel-blue eyes met yours, no longer guarded or distant. Behind them was something burning and pleading, like a man standing at the edge of a cliff, desperate to be heard before the wind carried everything away.

“I won't allow you to sacrifice yourself, doll,” Bucky replied firmly, his voice contrasting with the anxiety he was feeling. Drawing on the last of your mental strength, you slipped your hand out of his.

“I'm not going to ask your permission,” you said, turning your back on him. Before his hands could reach you again, you were gone, like sand carried by the wind. 

The city opened up before you, revealing a surreal scene: the dusty streets were strewn with debris and parts of places had been destroyed amid the chaos that had unfolded. But it was the deafening silence that struck you the most, so atypical for such a huge, lively city.

In the distance, you could hear the soft, quick footsteps of the remaining survivors, the gradually fading noise of cars, and several thuds that echoed in the air — a sign that they had been sent into that darkness with no apparent escape.

You were now standing in an open field, easily navigating the debris as you scanned the area for the mother and son running away in the distance. Maintaining your focus, you pressed your palms against the boulders, which shattered into many small pieces as they fell softly to the ground. Dust swirled in the air as you moved forward with fluid, measured movements, turning over large boulders and clearing the way for the civilians still fleeing.

From a young age, you had the ability to manipulate matter and turn it into whatever you pleased. You first demonstrated this ability when you were with your mother at home. A soft crackling sound came from the ceiling, startling you both, but it wasn’t serious enough to cause any alarm. Then the crack spread further and splinters of wood began to fall to the ground. When you saw that the entire beam was about to collapse, something inside you snapped.

At first, it felt as if time had stopped and the wooden beams were gracefully floating above your head. Then, as if in response to an unspoken command, you could feel the air humming around you. The matter melted and reformed as the splintered wood bent and flowed like liquid silk. The newly formed jagged shards fell to the ground like a thousand needles.

Your father called this a blessing. You called it a curse.

As you grew up, you learned about the dangerous paths you could take with your abilities, and your father forced you to do things you would later regret. You reshaped walls, floors and ceilings whenever you needed to break in unnoticed; you turned a broken chair into a weapon whenever there was a fight; and you were quick to disarm enemy weapons. You could still remember how easily you turned an endowed rifle into a puddle of dark liquid, giving you an advantage in close encounters.

It wasn't just the objects that could be mutated; the enhancements to your powers also enabled you to reshape human molecular structures. At first, the changes were subtle – a quick realignment of a shoulder or cauterisation of a wound. Then, under your father’s command, you were pushed further and soon learned how to break and reform bone density, alter muscle tissue and dull pain receptors in others to force compliance or enhance physical performance. 

You couldn’t count how many people you'd fixed before breaking them in the most vicious ways, some of them not surviving at your powers. You wore their pleading eyes and cries of help as a second skin, and the helplessness in their eyes was the purpose that made you escape from a reality that had become suffocating, that brought you only regret and endless nightmares.

And you swore to keep this part of your life buried forever.

After looking around, your gaze finally fell upon two figures stumbling around on the ground, recognizing them as the mother and child you had seen with the group earlier. Behind them, the black blanket advanced threateningly. It would only take a few minutes before they, too, would become black silhouettes on the ground. 

Mustering all your remaining strength you moved hurriedly, your adrenaline winning over your aching legs. Clearing the path of debris, you were quick to reach the two people, swiftly reaching for their arms and helping them up, before turning and running in the opposite direction of the fog.

“Keep going and don’t look back!” you called out, your voice slightly hoarse from the fatigue, “I’m here. You’re safe with me.”

The woman blinked rapidly and placed her child safely at her side, a flicker of gratitude crossed her frightened gaze. This stirred something new inside you, filling your chest with a sense of contentment. You were used to people looking at you with fear and submission, as if you were a monster walking among them. But this woman thanked you silently with her eyes? It made you believe that you were finally doing something right in your life.

You took a deep breath before resuming your run. Controlling two bodies while sprinting through wreckage was no easy feat, but you didn’t let that deter you. Your resolve was hard to falter.

As you scanned the horizon, only one safe place emerged in your mind: the porch where the Thunderbolts were watching you - silent and still while holding their breath - the only place in the whole city untouched by the spreading darkness, the only place that could shelter two civilians before coming up with a plan to stop that madness.

You were both halfway through the run when you felt your lungs burning inside, the muscles in your body desperately pleading mercy - you felt the need to stop and give yourself some time. But you couldn’t, no. You won’t stop. 

This wasn’t about your endurance anymore. This was about safety.

And so you kept pushing harder with your legs, sprinting firmly but under control to prevent the people holding hands with you from falling during the path. Step by step, you could see the arch approaching on the horizon, and a sense of relief washed over you: you were almost there. One more little effort and your mission would be accomplished.

You could do this. You had to do this.

And then you felt it.

Thud.

A piercing, howling sound reached your ears, sending shivers down your spine. For a moment a part of you feels lighter, as if you were running faster. But it was when you turned back and checked the mother and child’s health that reality stuck at you as a loud smack in your face.

They were gone, turned into powdery silhouettes, stuck in the ground and sent who knows where.

The realisation hit you, fear crept into every bone in your body and, for a moment, you forgot how to breathe properly. Your body was completely spent after being pushed to its limit, and you felt your legs giving in, collapsing under your weight. 

The air felt heavy, your surroundings blurring into emptiness as every sound faded until complete silence was reached. But only one noise crept into your mind: an annoying little voice repeating a phrase that had been your mantra all your life.

You failed. 

The thought was sharp and cruel, gripping your heart like a vice and making you feel sick. 'You failed' repeated over and over again like a broken record, a merciless reminder that no matter how hard you tried to be a hero and do things right, you failed.

How could you protect the people of this city if you just kept getting them into trouble?

The dark fog continued to advance undisturbed, engulfing and reclaiming the mother and her son's shadows. The group's attempts to bring you back were in vain: shouting and inviting you to join them on the porch, you couldn’t hear them, too focused on the darkness reaching you. Soon, you would become part of that nothingness — a nothingness you thought belonged to you.

It was there that you raised your head, and you finally saw him clearly.

The Void.

The dark figure floated motionless in the air, looking at you with white spotlights that seemed to peer into your soul. You didn’t see his lips curl into a mocking smile, nor did you feel the judgement leaving his mouth – if you could have seen it – instead, he just looked at you as if waiting for your next move. 

He tilted his head slightly before finally speaking up. His voice was deep, and its measured pace reflected the weight of her words, which hung in the air like an approaching storm.

“Is that why you're so sad? We're all alone. Hopeless. Without redemption.”

And you never felt so understood in your life.

You were used and abused countless times, your mind bent by the will of people who wanted to use your powers for ulterior motives, and you were too young and scared to break free. 

By the time you realised what they had turned you into, it was too late. You looked in the mirror and didn’t recognise yourself: not your face, not your eyes, and certainly not your hands. Hands that you had washed almost maniacally every day, watching the water turn red in your eyes when it was actually crystal clear. You couldn’t find comfort in the silence; only the cries of men and women begging you to stop torturing them and leave them alone filled your ears. It was all too much for you to bear. How many of them had families who would never see them again? The same happy family that was ripped away from you when you were just a child, a victim of your father’s ambitions?

You thought Bucky could be your beacon in the storm. Hell, that man’s life was a horror story, and he could empathise with your sins and past mistakes. But you were too afraid to tell him about your past, afraid that he would turn you away after learning that you had committed crimes possibly worse than his own. Now your paths were divided by an invisible wall, and you had never felt so alone. 

Nothingness is all you have left.

Acting on impulse, you stood up and marched silently towards the dark fog. There was no wavering in your actions, no second thoughts. 

The Void was calling you, and you were eager to answer its call.

You heard someone -  a very familiar voice - shout at you to turn around. But this didn’t stop your silent march; your body moved towards the dark needles approaching you as if on autopilot.

All you had to do was take a step, and all your pain and remorse would disappear with you.

While hearing a muffled, raw, broken scream, your foot stepped onto the black ground.

And your body moulded into the darkness.

Bucky felt as if his world had collapsed in on itself. Destroyed, disintegrated in the same way his own body had turned to dust years ago when Thanos claimed half of the population's lives by snapping his fingers.

This time, however, the Avengers would not be there to save the day. No one would build a time machine and retrieve six powerful stones, nor would anyone snap their fingers and bring back all the people swallowed by the void.

You were gone, just like Yelena. Just like everyone else.

His mind short-circuited, the guilt of not being able to save New York’s people mingled with the regret of not being able to stop you and your selfless actions. Countless images and what-ifs crossed his thoughts — what if he had followed you and pulled you away sooner? What if he had been more insistent and said no? What if he had been strong enough to counter your stubbornness, to hold you in his arms and never let you go again? 

But there were no answers in the echoes of what-ifs. Only silence.

Unlike his former self, Bucky was never one for many words. His time in the clutches of Hydra was enough to break his spirit, strip him of his confidence, and rob him of his cheerfulness. All that remained were the emotional scars that would never fade. He became a shell of his former self: a grumpy, introverted 110-year-old man who believed that pain was an inevitable part of life and was more inclined to expect negative things than positive ones.

Since being released, he had spent most of his days trying to make amends and find a way to redeem himself. He would sit in the eerie quietness of his apartment, muttering about a past that still haunted him, and about the ghosts of all the people he had murdered and who came to visit him in his sleep. Then he would wake up with short, frantic gasps, his gaze fixed on an empty spot, while the sound of the television in the background tried — in vain — to calm his racing heart. 

Bucky slipped into a daily routine that he struggled to adjust to: mandatory therapy sessions in the morning, undertaken more out of a sense of duty than for relief; solo missions throughout the day to erase the names of people on his list who wanted closure. Loneliness in the evening and nightmares at night. Each day was the same as the previous one, and the day after that would be the same again.

But you? You were the one who shattered his monotonous routine.

You slipped quietly into Bucky's life and became the spark that ignited it. Despite the aura of mystery that wrapped you like a veil, you gave him a sense of purpose, helping him to break free from his endless cycle of pain and self-loathing. With you, he rediscovered the meaning of love and being loved. His fear of being touched melted away beneath the warmth and delicacy of your touch. His body trembled and demanded more, his flesh burned under your fingerprints. Whenever he felt insecure, you would remind him that every part of him was perfect, kissing and adoring the scars on the joint of his metal shoulder — the part of him he disliked the most, but which you were immediately drawn to. 

But your love was not enough to appease his desire to help others and redeem his past, and when the world of politics opened up, something between you cracked. Soft whispers of love turned into heated arguments and nights curled up in bed together became a distant memory. You grew further and further apart until you disappeared without trace. 

In the silence of his feigned apathy, Bucky’s heart was breaking; your distance was far worse than the torture inflicted by Zola and his men. Relief filled his chest when you agreed to help him, albeit reluctantly, and part of him promised that, once Valentina was out of the picture, he would take you in his arms and kiss every inch of your face, murmuring endless apologies against your skin. His arms would wrap around your waist as he promised that he would never push you away again, in the hope that you would both have the restart you deserve.

But now The Void had taken you, trapping you in his dark fog, and with you, every possibility of reconciliation had disappeared.

Bucky could feel his legs trembling beneath him. If it were not for Alexei’s strong arms supporting him, he would have fallen to the ground. The group stood in silence, watching as Bucky’s face contorted with desperation and misery. His blue eyes were glassy and devoid of light, and his mouth moved involuntarily, whispering apologies that could not be heard. It was a sign that he had given up, that all your efforts to stop Bob were in vain, and that giving him the whole city was the only solution to this never-ending puzzle.

Just when he felt he had hit rock bottom, a glimmer of hope took him by surprise. His head turned slightly towards the darkness, and he was struck by a sudden epiphany. 

His mind darted back to the conversation he had had with the Thunderbolts just minutes earlier, before your stubbornness had won out over your rational thinking and led you to your suicide plan. He remembered how Walker had approached him and Ava, admitting that she was right and that there was indeed something lurking in the darkness. The former Captain America recalled the dread he had felt after touching Bob, reliving for a bit the period in his life when everything had fallen apart, when he had failed both as a father and a husband.

A part of him was partially relieved that this could not be the end, that somehow you and Yelena could be saved. It was the reviving of the past that frightened him, more yours than his. Bucky had always been unaware of your history, having confessed at your behest your despondency at reliving certain stages of your life. He feared what you might be forced to witness and how you would change after returning to him. How broken you would be. 

With a newfound strength Bucky stood up, his gaze resting on the dark fog, which had almost engulfed most of the city.

“She must be trapped somewhere there,” Bucky muttered with his jaw clenched, drawing the group's attention. “I have to get her out of there.”

Ava was the first to respond, almost nodding in agreement with his idea. “Thank you,” she said. “Someone who supports my plan!”

“So, what’s the plan? We go in, find Yelena and our mutant friend, and then what?” Walker mused, his hands placed on his lips. He watched Bucky moving his first steps, almost leaving the porch and facing the fog alone.

“Stay there. I’m going to drag her out of this and we’ll be back,” he growled, his eyes flaring with anger and determination: your safety was his priority. 

“What!?” echoed Ava and Walker together, their faces contorted in dismay at the former Winter Soldier’s sudden declaration. 

“Hey, hey, slow down a bit” Alexei interrupted, wrapping his strong hand around Bucky’s vibranium shoulder and forcing the ex-assassin to turn and look at him. “I know you’re the mighty Winter Soldier, and you’re cool enough to be unstoppable and kick everyone’s ass along the way. But you can’t face this alone. We must stick together as the Thunderbolts!”

Bucky looked down and his jaw tightened as he absorbed the Red Guardian’s words. Although temporarily blinded by his protective instincts towards you, he had to admit that Alexei was right. He could not face the threat alone if the enemy had expanded their powers on a large scale. 

He closed his eyelids, inhaling deeply before resting his gaze on the remaining team, looking at them with a solemn expression.

“We'll go there together, then. Try to find Yelena once you’re inside. I’m going to find my girlfriend, and then we’ll manage to meet up together. Is all that clear?” he said solemnly, the word “girlfriend” still spilling easily from his mouth despite your relationship having ended years ago.

At first, silence was their answer. The group quickly exchanged glances, as if looking for implicit confirmation from each other. Then, after moments that seemed like an eternity, the three looked at Bucky, approving his plan as a new sense of hope lifted the group’s spirit. 

Walker turned his gaze towards the dark hole and took the first steps towards it. “Try not to get stuck there, Bucky,” he said dryly, the super soldier’s faint smirk was his only answer.

“Let’s go, Thunderbolts!” Alexei roared in support, his spirits lifted again by the slightly increased possibility of seeing Yelena alive.

All four of them entered the ghostly city, the fresh air of New York caressing their skin for the last time before darkness consumed them. Ava was the first to step inside, her body being claimed as soon as her feet touched the black ground. Walker and Alexei followed, marching with no hesitation as their bodies turned into shadows and were claimed by the darkness.

When it was Bucky’s turn, he hesitated at first. He stood still and watched the dark needles advance quickly, covering the shadows of his friends and then going to claim him.

He lifted his gaze slightly, looking into the heart of the darkness. Countless images of his past flashed before his eyes and his spirit was weakened by the thought of reliving a past that he had spent his whole life trying to redeem, wearing its scars like a second skin.

But he remembered the purpose of his actions, and a new wave of determination pushed him into action. He would rewatch his torture and brainwashing, he would fight his former self as the Winter Soldier, he would never let the souls of the people he had tortured and brainwashed leave him, haunting him with their desperate cries and laughing at him every time he woke up trembling on the floor after another nightmare. 

If walking back from that darkness meant pulling you out from there, then no trauma would be able to stop him from reaching his purpose. 

Bucky took a deep breath before continuing his advance, his feet almost touching the black floor as he entered the tunnel.

And after taking the last step, his world went black.

If you've come this far, thank you so much for reading my fic! Hope you enjoyed it! Please, leave a comment if you want to be added in the taglist or be removed.7

Bucky Barnes Taglist: @volklana @sylasthegrim @watermeezer

[thenameswinterfics]

‼️ A LITTLE ANNOUNCEMENT ‼️

Greetings, everyone. How are you? I hope you are all fine and well.

I never thought I would be able to sit here and write this long post, but... Here we are! With me telling you some things.

I opened this blog in April of last year (April? May? Don't remember, I opened the blog last year), generally as a way to have a clean space where to post my fics everytime I wrote them, since my main blog is just my reblogging mess.

This year I started learning gifs and then I opened my own gifblog. I spent most of the time there due to my writer's block, who literally prevented me from writing anything that could be pleasing for me.

With time I came back to writing, I posted my first fic after months of writing's block, and then I came back managing my gif blog. It was there I realized managing three blogs has been a lot time consuming for me, especially because I still have to study for the exams at university and I'm finding myself to have a short time. (This is also the reason why I slowed down writing/reading/giffing/being on Tumblr in general)

So, I have decided from this moment on my fic blog will merge in the main one. This means that I will post my fics and masterlists there. What will be the destiny of this blog? I don't know if it will be a source blog, an archive blog or just an update blog for the newest fics release. I still have to decide it.

For the ones who sent me their requests: I won't abandon them, absolutely. They're still in the WIP process and will be posted in my main once they're done. I will post the screen of the ask once it's done.

For the ones who follow me just here and not in my main, click here and you will find my main blog.

I hope to see some of you on the other side and thank you for being stuck with me in this crazy year! 💜

Tagging the moots from different taglists and non so they can see this: @bcksbarnes @buckyys-babydoll @mrs-elsie-barnes @soelstress @azriona @societyfolklore @writing-for-marvel @sunday-bug @mrs-barnes-rogers-writes @watermeezer @daydreamgoddess14 @hisredheadedgoddess28 @volklana @leftoverp1zza @whitedarkmoonflower @lord-aldhelm @aneurins-barnard @legitalicat @foxyanon @zaldritzosrose @sihtricsafin @sihtricfedaraaahvicius @sylasthegrim @arcielee @alexagirlie @gemini-mama @ladyinred2248 and I don't know if I forgot someone lol

[thenameswinterfics]

MASTERLIST

Header by me | Credit to the image owners (some are taken from Pinterest) Divider by @emmanexelle

Pairing: Thunderbolts!Bucky Barnes x MutantFemale!Reader Setting: Thunderbolts* Summary: A past disagreement caused a rift between you and Bucky, pushing you further and further apart until you broke up. While Bucky campaigns for a seat in Congress, you continue to fight evil and atone for your past mistakes. After several years apart, you reluctantly accept Bucky's call for help with an impeachment. However, you find yourself with the Thunderbolts, dealing with a great threat to New York. You fall into the Void, and Bucky follows you in an attempt to rescue you. There, you are forced to confront each other's deep traumas and your own feelings, mending a rift that seemed insurmountable. Status: Ongoing General Warnings: Thunderbolts* spoilers, Reader is a mutant with the molecular reconfiguration powers, angst, hurt, implied torture, implied domestic violence, canon-typical violence, implied smut, non-canonical character death, mention to murder, brief spoilers from Winter Soldier: Cold Front, fluff, happy ending

BUCKY BARNES MASTERLIST

CHAPTER 1 - L'APPEL DU VIDE || Words: 6,2 K || Release date: 06/06/2025

CHAPTER 2 - WEAPONS DON'T WEEP || Words: TBD || Release date: TBD

CHAPTER 3 - PAIN IS THE SCAR OF GROWTH || Words: TBD || Release date: TBD

CHAPTER 4 - WHAT REMAINS OF US || Words: TBD || Release date: TBD

[thenameswinterfics]

BETWEEN DARK AND THE VOID

Chapter 1 - L'Appel Du Vide

Header by me | Dividers by @emmanexelle | 18+ banner by @inklore

READ IT ON AO3

Pairing: Thunderbolts!Bucky Barnes x MutantFemale!Reader Setting: Thunderbolts* Summary: Reluctantly, after a call you accept to help Bucky, your ex-boyfriend, with a task. What should have been a simple impeachment becomes a New York rescue mission, swallowed by a mysterious dark fog. After failing to save two innocent people, and overwhelmed by guilt from your dark past, you answer the call of The Void and abandon yourself to the uncertainty of nothingness. It's up to Bucky to save you and bring you back. Word Count: 6.2 K Chapter Warnings: Thunderbolts* spoilers, Reader is a mutant with the molecular reconfiguration powers, angst, hurt, mention of past trauma, typical canon violence, mention of torture (not described), Reader being mean at first, protective Bucky, no use of y/n. If I have missed some CW, please let me know and I'll add them!

AN: I'm back, this time for real! I never thought that a Marvel movie and my old obsession with Bucky Barnes would bring the writing muses back to me. This is the first fic after some months of writing's block, so apologize if it's not perfect. Many thanks to my wife @sylasthegrim for helping me with the title and to my love @bcksbarnes for beta reading, brainstorming through the fic outline, being my cheerleader and simply bear with me. You're the best, I love you with all my heart! I highly expect this to flop, so thank you for the few ones who will read it.

ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE. I APOLOGISE IN ADVANCE FOR MY GRAMMAR AND VOCABULARY MISTAKES.

BUCKY BARNES MASTERLIST | BETWEEN DARK AND THE VOID MASTERLIST

Appel du vide: "The call of the void". French term that explains an urge to do something dangerous even though you don’t intend to.

The streets of New York had never been so dark.

The skyscrapers that once towered over the city, imposing and gleaming, now disappeared into a veil of darkness, their figures swallowed up in an ominous embrace. Even cars and people seemed to suffer the same fate, falling into a dark hole that slowly, but dangerously, spread through the streets; swallowing everything in its path.

Above this dark fog, Void stood, now in full control of Bob, watching the chaos unfold beneath his feet, not blinking at the high-pitched screams of people running for safety. As he stood, like a god descending to earth to judge mankind, he slowly raised a hand, transforming people into powdery silhouettes stuck to the ground, soon to be moulded by the impending darkness as it moved swiftly towards the crowd.

It was like the scene of one of the most terrifying horror films: planes crashing next to buildings, piles of rubble falling from the sky and destroying everything in sight, cries of children looking for their parents. People ran with every ounce of strength they had left to escape this dark nightmare that was spreading across the city like a living shadow, swallowing up hope, light and every trace of normal life in its relentless path.

But this was the reality. And nothing would seem willing to stop this madness.

You paused under a porch with the rest of the Thunderbolts, your cheeks flushed as you placed your palm against the cold plaster of the wall, your chest rising and falling at a fast pace. You could hear Bucky muttering a few words as he watched the city go pitch black, Walker holding an unstable Alexei, ranting about losing Yelena and not forgiving himself. Ava was the only one silent, pondering her next move, and you were glad that your powers did not allow you to read people's minds, or you would go mad between your own thoughts and those of others.

You knew something was wrong the moment Bucky called you after months of silence; given the strained relations between you two, you were even surprised that the former Hydra assassin - now Brooklyn Congressman - had the time to dial your number and ask for your support with a mission.

You were different from the other heroes and villains who lived among humans — there was something deep and unpredictable in your genetics that set you apart. Most of them chose to become one voluntarily, undergoing genetic experiments to enhance their physical abilities. Others were tech geniuses who compensated for their lack of physical strength with their intellect, building armour and other technical equipment to support civilians. Then there were those who were simply highly trained agents and assassins, who had spent most of their lives honing their bodies into weapons for use for either good or evil.

But you? You were born with powers; your genes had been mutating naturally ever since you were in your mother's womb. There were no labs, no special training, no choices. It was just you, emerging with untamed powers cursing through your veins, marking you as someone superior to the humans.

In the same way you didn’t choose who to work with, you were too young to understand the wrong hands you had fallen into. You were a victim of your own father’s plans to rule the world, seeing you as both his cherished daughter and his precious weapon.

After years of being chained against your will, you became a free spirit, travelling the world and playing the role of the hero you'd never been, helping people and saving them from the clutches of enemies. No matter how strong or bizarre the villains were, whether they were dangerous aliens from another universe or little bullies tormenting the weak boy at school: you would be there, steady and vigilant, protecting every human in your sight. Whether this was your sudden calling, or simply a way to lift your shoulders from the burden of your past, orto keep your hands clean from the innocent blood spilled, was hard for you to know.

But as you listened to Congressman Barnes' voice - low and soft, which was how he usually spoke to you - rattle on about a crucial task for the New York citizens, you realised how high the stakes were.

He called it “impeachment”, a way to remove Valentina and her shady business away from the CIA and the government, and valid witnesses were still on the loose. Four former assassins who cleaned the mess the woman made, four valid testimonies that would make Val’s empire fall like a house of cards. Who better than you to know the best tactics to track down a group of former criminals and catch them?

A part of you wanted to refuse — you were “cleaned” from that shady business. And how could you ever work for the political machine that still had a price on your head, after being a former criminal yourself? The same twisted mechanism that drove a wall between you and Bucky? 

Yet, the shivers that ran down your spine when you heard Bucky's voice, the way his tongue rolled deliciously every time he called you 'doll', the pleading tone of his request, the puppy-dog steel-blue eyes that you could almost feel through the screen…it made it hard for you to decline.

And so there you were, stuck with your ex-boyfriend and a bunch of people you barely met less than 24 hours before, one of them lost into the darkness. 

Not the best situation to find yourself in the last moments of your life. 

“I’m going after her,” Ava said, breaking the silence as she marched quickly through the dark fog that continued to spread.

Bucky grabbed her arm with his vibranium hand, stopping her from carrying out her plan. “And then what?”

“If she walked there, she did it for a reason,” Ava answered quickly, nervously looking at the black fog spreading.

“What if she’s dead? What if there’s no coming back?” Bucky countered, the frustration and worry in his voice clear to hear. They had already lost Yelena, as well as many others who had fallen victim to Void’s actions. Deep down, he was regretful for not being the hero he wanted to be, and for letting down all the people who had applauded him just minutes before the disaster was unleashed.

It was a sight that reminded him of all the sleepless nights and looming nightmares, and of that damn little notebook with all those names marked in it, deluding him into believing he was absolved of sins he himself was not the main perpetrator of. 

Your heart ached to see him so defeated. So remorseful. 

"He's right, Ava," you said, standing up straight and joining the conversation. Your voice was still slightly breathless from the previous run. “Did we all see what happened to Yelena?” She was there with us, flesh and blood, with just a few scratches on her pretty face. And now? Puff! Vanished! Gone!” You grabbed your knees, allowing your lungs to catch as much air as they could before continuing. “Let’s get one thing straight. We lost. Just… how can we protect the people of this city if we aren’t able to defend ourselves? We can’t win against that thing. It’s over.”

A heavy silence fell over the group, and you almost cursed yourself for what you had said. Had they lifted the group's spirits? Of course not. 

“You know? You have many great qualities, but comforting people isn’t one of them” said Ava, breaking the silence once again. Her voice was decisive and carried a hint of disdain. Then, she faced Bucky again, her gaze sweeping over the city. “And about Yelena. What if she isn’t gone?”

“How do you know that?” Bucky replied, his voice a little lower as he resumed his argument with her. You turned your head to look for any human who had escaped the powers of the Void, and that was where your world stopped.

And Bucky's words were the last you heard.

Everything around you grew muffled and distant, as if you were sinking underwater. You could hear Walker muttering something to the team, but his words seemed to come from miles away. Alexei's voice was next, you were sure of it, but this time you couldn’t make out his exact words. A third voice called out to you - who was it this time? Ava? Bucky? You imagining Yelena’s witty comments over you? You couldn't tell - it sounded like distant echoes. 

You seemed gone, your mind disconnected from your body, travelling to another universe. But the truth was that something - or someone - caught your attention. 

Your gaze was drawn to a small figure in the distance, wriggling through the rubble, and the rest of the world faded away. You could hear and feel the child’s loud cries in your ears and in your heart. You could feel your eardrums ringing and your chest tightening in an uncomfortable vice. Next to the child was a woman who quickly scooped him up and ran as if her life depended on it. They were running away — or at least trying to — desperately seeking refuge to save themselves temporarily.

They were like the same civilians that you had tried to help before but failed to save, and who had now been sucked into the void. 

And suddenly your words ceased to make sense.

“We lost”, suddenly echoed in your head. “How can we protect the people of this city if we aren’t able to defend ourselves?” These words made you wrinkle your nose in disgust. How could you ever call yourself a hero when your mind was clouded by such pessimistic thoughts? Had you not sworn to protect the most vulnerable after leaving your brutal past behind?

The shame of your words gnawed at you, raw and relentless. Hearing the mother reassure her son, keeping her nerves steady despite the situation made you feel the urge to act again. They were a reminder of how hard they were still fighting. How they were still trying.

This gave you a new sense of hope. Maybe the war was far from over.

You quickly stood up, your hands trembling and adrenaline suddenly rushing through your veins as if your body had awoken from a paralysed state. Without thinking, you started running towards them, your mind filled with a new sense of purpose.

But your dreams of glory were cut short by a firm grasp on your arm and the coldness of metal beneath your leather tactical suit. You turned your gaze and saw Bucky watching you with a clenched jaw and a severe but worried look in his steel-blue eyes.

“Where do you think you're going, doll?” he asked in a low, gravelly voice, pulling you close with a firm grip. It was bruising, but not tight enough to cause pain.

“Let me go, Barnes!” you replied through clenched teeth, jerking your arm free. He loosened his grip and you stood facing each other while the rest of the group watched, ready to intervene if either of you lost your temper.

“There are still civilians out there who can be saved. I’ll go and keep them safe-”

“So what? Do you want to end up like Yelena? Disappearing inside that black thing and leaving no trace?” Bucky snapped at you, your sudden recklessness was the last thing he needed. There was no venom in his words, only concern and… Was it protectiveness what you felt?

“You've seen how devastated Alexei is. Do you think we can face another loss like that? Well, let me tell you something, doll. We can’t take another loss like that. I can’t bear the thought of losing you!”

You stared at him, stunned by his words. You noticed how his voice faltered when he said he couldn’t bear your absence, how his body trembled when he was overcome with anger and fear, and the apprehension lurking beneath his words. Suddenly, memories of your past together rushed wildly through your mind, making your breathing quicken and your heart hammer in your chest.

That was the Bucky you fell in love with. The damaged super soldier who struggled to find his place in the world. The man who would scream in the middle of the night, beads of sweat on his forehead, and you would rush to his side, cradling him in your arms and mentally curse Hydra for the damage they had done to him. The sweet, caring and overly protective man who would always watch your back on missions, check your wounds and kiss every inch of your bruised skin to ease the pain. The man who would not hesitate to sacrifice his life for you.

But that part of him died the moment he chose to run for Congress, hiding behind a cloak of righteousness that felt uncharacteristic. You could see it in the way he immersed himself in the country's twisted politics, pretending to read file after file and barely acknowledging your presence in the house. You could see it in the way he came home late and stressed from endless meetings, barely having time for you. And when you chose to run away and find your own place in the world? There were no messages, no missed calls and no attempt to trace you.

You became strangers. Never before had you considered going back to when life was easier for the two of you, when you would cuddle up together, feeling the ghost of his lips on yours.

No, there was no time to regret what had been. The lives of ordinary people were more important than a futile argument.

“James,” you called him, his real name felt strange on your tongue. “I saw a mother and child running through the streets, trying to find shelter. They can’t save themselves if we stand here mulling over what to do.”

You saw Bucky moving around nervously, his hands firmly on his hips and his gaze darting between the black fog and you. “You will fail like all the others we have saved before. Like we failed to keep Yelena with us. If they're not dead, they're stuck in that nightmare from which there's no escape."

“We don’t know if we don’t try!” you countered back, frustration rising in your voice as you heard the few people’s screams die behind you, making you more and more nervous.

“Oh, so Miss ‘We-Fail-Because-We-Suck’ feels guilty and decided to return to action?” Walker joined the conversation, a hint of mockery in his serious voice. 

“I don't need you to remind me of what I said before, Walker, thank you,”' you replied, annoyed. “Stay here and mutter all you want, but those two people outside are still our last hope, and I won’t be the one to let them down.”

You approached Bucky with slow and deliberate steps, your hand raised in an attempt to cup his cheek but you stopped mid air, afraid that he would not welcome your gesture. It was the intensity of his gaze that made you want to give up, but then your hand was on his cheek, gently rubbing his stubble. 

“I’ve seen that look of yours, James. Every damn time. You think it’s because of you why we’re all stuck here, you feel guilty because you brought us with you and see the failure of your actions in our eyes,” you spoke to him, low and soft, as if you were talking to a frightened child, “You have done more than enough. You couldn't have foreseen that this would happen. You have all played your part. Now it's my turn. Let me make things right for once in my life.”

You were about to turn and leave the group when you felt a sudden warmth anchor you in place — a firm, slightly trembling hand covering yours. Bucky's hand held yours with an intensity you hadn't felt in years. In that breathless instant, his steel-blue eyes met yours, no longer guarded or distant. Behind them was something burning and pleading, like a man standing at the edge of a cliff, desperate to be heard before the wind carried everything away.

“I won't allow you to sacrifice yourself, doll,” Bucky replied firmly, his voice contrasting with the anxiety he was feeling. Drawing on the last of your mental strength, you slipped your hand out of his.

“I'm not going to ask your permission,” you said, turning your back on him. Before his hands could reach you again, you were gone, like sand carried by the wind. 

The city opened up before you, revealing a surreal scene: the dusty streets were strewn with debris and parts of places had been destroyed amid the chaos that had unfolded. But it was the deafening silence that struck you the most, so atypical for such a huge, lively city.

In the distance, you could hear the soft, quick footsteps of the remaining survivors, the gradually fading noise of cars, and several thuds that echoed in the air — a sign that they had been sent into that darkness with no apparent escape.

You were now standing in an open field, easily navigating the debris as you scanned the area for the mother and son running away in the distance. Maintaining your focus, you pressed your palms against the boulders, which shattered into many small pieces as they fell softly to the ground. Dust swirled in the air as you moved forward with fluid, measured movements, turning over large boulders and clearing the way for the civilians still fleeing.

From a young age, you had the ability to manipulate matter and turn it into whatever you pleased. You first demonstrated this ability when you were with your mother at home. A soft crackling sound came from the ceiling, startling you both, but it wasn’t serious enough to cause any alarm. Then the crack spread further and splinters of wood began to fall to the ground. When you saw that the entire beam was about to collapse, something inside you snapped.

At first, it felt as if time had stopped and the wooden beams were gracefully floating above your head. Then, as if in response to an unspoken command, you could feel the air humming around you. The matter melted and reformed as the splintered wood bent and flowed like liquid silk. The newly formed jagged shards fell to the ground like a thousand needles.

Your father called this a blessing. You called it a curse.

As you grew up, you learned about the dangerous paths you could take with your abilities, and your father forced you to do things you would later regret. You reshaped walls, floors and ceilings whenever you needed to break in unnoticed; you turned a broken chair into a weapon whenever there was a fight; and you were quick to disarm enemy weapons. You could still remember how easily you turned an endowed rifle into a puddle of dark liquid, giving you an advantage in close encounters.

It wasn't just the objects that could be mutated; the enhancements to your powers also enabled you to reshape human molecular structures. At first, the changes were subtle – a quick realignment of a shoulder or cauterisation of a wound. Then, under your father’s command, you were pushed further and soon learned how to break and reform bone density, alter muscle tissue and dull pain receptors in others to force compliance or enhance physical performance. 

You couldn’t count how many people you'd fixed before breaking them in the most vicious ways, some of them not surviving at your powers. You wore their pleading eyes and cries of help as a second skin, and the helplessness in their eyes was the purpose that made you escape from a reality that had become suffocating, that brought you only regret and endless nightmares.

And you swore to keep this part of your life buried forever.

After looking around, your gaze finally fell upon two figures stumbling around on the ground, recognizing them as the mother and child you had seen with the group earlier. Behind them, the black blanket advanced threateningly. It would only take a few minutes before they, too, would become black silhouettes on the ground. 

Mustering all your remaining strength you moved hurriedly, your adrenaline winning over your aching legs. Clearing the path of debris, you were quick to reach the two people, swiftly reaching for their arms and helping them up, before turning and running in the opposite direction of the fog.

“Keep going and don’t look back!” you called out, your voice slightly hoarse from the fatigue, “I’m here. You’re safe with me.”

The woman blinked rapidly and placed her child safely at her side, a flicker of gratitude crossed her frightened gaze. This stirred something new inside you, filling your chest with a sense of contentment. You were used to people looking at you with fear and submission, as if you were a monster walking among them. But this woman thanked you silently with her eyes? It made you believe that you were finally doing something right in your life.

You took a deep breath before resuming your run. Controlling two bodies while sprinting through wreckage was no easy feat, but you didn’t let that deter you. Your resolve was hard to falter.

As you scanned the horizon, only one safe place emerged in your mind: the porch where the Thunderbolts were watching you - silent and still while holding their breath - the only place in the whole city untouched by the spreading darkness, the only place that could shelter two civilians before coming up with a plan to stop that madness.

You were both halfway through the run when you felt your lungs burning inside, the muscles in your body desperately pleading mercy - you felt the need to stop and give yourself some time. But you couldn’t, no. You won’t stop. 

This wasn’t about your endurance anymore. This was about safety.

And so you kept pushing harder with your legs, sprinting firmly but under control to prevent the people holding hands with you from falling during the path. Step by step, you could see the arch approaching on the horizon, and a sense of relief washed over you: you were almost there. One more little effort and your mission would be accomplished.

You could do this. You had to do this.

And then you felt it.

Thud.

A piercing, howling sound reached your ears, sending shivers down your spine. For a moment a part of you feels lighter, as if you were running faster. But it was when you turned back and checked the mother and child’s health that reality stuck at you as a loud smack in your face.

They were gone, turned into powdery silhouettes, stuck in the ground and sent who knows where.

The realisation hit you, fear crept into every bone in your body and, for a moment, you forgot how to breathe properly. Your body was completely spent after being pushed to its limit, and you felt your legs giving in, collapsing under your weight. 

The air felt heavy, your surroundings blurring into emptiness as every sound faded until complete silence was reached. But only one noise crept into your mind: an annoying little voice repeating a phrase that had been your mantra all your life.

You failed. 

The thought was sharp and cruel, gripping your heart like a vice and making you feel sick. 'You failed' repeated over and over again like a broken record, a merciless reminder that no matter how hard you tried to be a hero and do things right, you failed.

How could you protect the people of this city if you just kept getting them into trouble?

The dark fog continued to advance undisturbed, engulfing and reclaiming the mother and her son's shadows. The group's attempts to bring you back were in vain: shouting and inviting you to join them on the porch, you couldn’t hear them, too focused on the darkness reaching you. Soon, you would become part of that nothingness — a nothingness you thought belonged to you.

It was there that you raised your head, and you finally saw him clearly.

The Void.

The dark figure floated motionless in the air, looking at you with white spotlights that seemed to peer into your soul. You didn’t see his lips curl into a mocking smile, nor did you feel the judgement leaving his mouth – if you could have seen it – instead, he just looked at you as if waiting for your next move. 

He tilted his head slightly before finally speaking up. His voice was deep, and its measured pace reflected the weight of her words, which hung in the air like an approaching storm.

“Is that why you're so sad? We're all alone. Hopeless. Without redemption.”

And you never felt so understood in your life.

You were used and abused countless times, your mind bent by the will of people who wanted to use your powers for ulterior motives, and you were too young and scared to break free. 

By the time you realised what they had turned you into, it was too late. You looked in the mirror and didn’t recognise yourself: not your face, not your eyes, and certainly not your hands. Hands that you had washed almost maniacally every day, watching the water turn red in your eyes when it was actually crystal clear. You couldn’t find comfort in the silence; only the cries of men and women begging you to stop torturing them and leave them alone filled your ears. It was all too much for you to bear. How many of them had families who would never see them again? The same happy family that was ripped away from you when you were just a child, a victim of your father’s ambitions?

You thought Bucky could be your beacon in the storm. Hell, that man’s life was a horror story, and he could empathise with your sins and past mistakes. But you were too afraid to tell him about your past, afraid that he would turn you away after learning that you had committed crimes possibly worse than his own. Now your paths were divided by an invisible wall, and you had never felt so alone. 

Nothingness is all you have left.

Acting on impulse, you stood up and marched silently towards the dark fog. There was no wavering in your actions, no second thoughts. 

The Void was calling you, and you were eager to answer its call.

You heard someone -  a very familiar voice - shout at you to turn around. But this didn’t stop your silent march; your body moved towards the dark needles approaching you as if on autopilot.

All you had to do was take a step, and all your pain and remorse would disappear with you.

While hearing a muffled, raw, broken scream, your foot stepped onto the black ground.

And your body moulded into the darkness.

Bucky felt as if his world had collapsed in on itself. Destroyed, disintegrated in the same way his own body had turned to dust years ago when Thanos claimed half of the population's lives by snapping his fingers.

This time, however, the Avengers would not be there to save the day. No one would build a time machine and retrieve six powerful stones, nor would anyone snap their fingers and bring back all the people swallowed by the void.

You were gone, just like Yelena. Just like everyone else.

His mind short-circuited, the guilt of not being able to save New York’s people mingled with the regret of not being able to stop you and your selfless actions. Countless images and what-ifs crossed his thoughts — what if he had followed you and pulled you away sooner? What if he had been more insistent and said no? What if he had been strong enough to counter your stubbornness, to hold you in his arms and never let you go again? 

But there were no answers in the echoes of what-ifs. Only silence.

Unlike his former self, Bucky was never one for many words. His time in the clutches of Hydra was enough to break his spirit, strip him of his confidence, and rob him of his cheerfulness. All that remained were the emotional scars that would never fade. He became a shell of his former self: a grumpy, introverted 110-year-old man who believed that pain was an inevitable part of life and was more inclined to expect negative things than positive ones.

Since being released, he had spent most of his days trying to make amends and find a way to redeem himself. He would sit in the eerie quietness of his apartment, muttering about a past that still haunted him, and about the ghosts of all the people he had murdered and who came to visit him in his sleep. Then he would wake up with short, frantic gasps, his gaze fixed on an empty spot, while the sound of the television in the background tried — in vain — to calm his racing heart. 

Bucky slipped into a daily routine that he struggled to adjust to: mandatory therapy sessions in the morning, undertaken more out of a sense of duty than for relief; solo missions throughout the day to erase the names of people on his list who wanted closure. Loneliness in the evening and nightmares at night. Each day was the same as the previous one, and the day after that would be the same again.

But you? You were the one who shattered his monotonous routine.

You slipped quietly into Bucky's life and became the spark that ignited it. Despite the aura of mystery that wrapped you like a veil, you gave him a sense of purpose, helping him to break free from his endless cycle of pain and self-loathing. With you, he rediscovered the meaning of love and being loved. His fear of being touched melted away beneath the warmth and delicacy of your touch. His body trembled and demanded more, his flesh burned under your fingerprints. Whenever he felt insecure, you would remind him that every part of him was perfect, kissing and adoring the scars on the joint of his metal shoulder — the part of him he disliked the most, but which you were immediately drawn to. 

But your love was not enough to appease his desire to help others and redeem his past, and when the world of politics opened up, something between you cracked. Soft whispers of love turned into heated arguments and nights curled up in bed together became a distant memory. You grew further and further apart until you disappeared without trace. 

In the silence of his feigned apathy, Bucky’s heart was breaking; your distance was far worse than the torture inflicted by Zola and his men. Relief filled his chest when you agreed to help him, albeit reluctantly, and part of him promised that, once Valentina was out of the picture, he would take you in his arms and kiss every inch of your face, murmuring endless apologies against your skin. His arms would wrap around your waist as he promised that he would never push you away again, in the hope that you would both have the restart you deserve.

But now The Void had taken you, trapping you in his dark fog, and with you, every possibility of reconciliation had disappeared.

Bucky could feel his legs trembling beneath him. If it were not for Alexei’s strong arms supporting him, he would have fallen to the ground. The group stood in silence, watching as Bucky’s face contorted with desperation and misery. His blue eyes were glassy and devoid of light, and his mouth moved involuntarily, whispering apologies that could not be heard. It was a sign that he had given up, that all your efforts to stop Bob were in vain, and that giving him the whole city was the only solution to this never-ending puzzle.

Just when he felt he had hit rock bottom, a glimmer of hope took him by surprise. His head turned slightly towards the darkness, and he was struck by a sudden epiphany. 

His mind darted back to the conversation he had had with the Thunderbolts just minutes earlier, before your stubbornness had won out over your rational thinking and led you to your suicide plan. He remembered how Walker had approached him and Ava, admitting that she was right and that there was indeed something lurking in the darkness. The former Captain America recalled the dread he had felt after touching Bob, reliving for a bit the period in his life when everything had fallen apart, when he had failed both as a father and a husband.

A part of him was partially relieved that this could not be the end, that somehow you and Yelena could be saved. It was the reviving of the past that frightened him, more yours than his. Bucky had always been unaware of your history, having confessed at your behest your despondency at reliving certain stages of your life. He feared what you might be forced to witness and how you would change after returning to him. How broken you would be. 

With a newfound strength Bucky stood up, his gaze resting on the dark fog, which had almost engulfed most of the city.

“She must be trapped somewhere there,” Bucky muttered with his jaw clenched, drawing the group's attention. “I have to get her out of there.”

Ava was the first to respond, almost nodding in agreement with his idea. “Thank you,” she said. “Someone who supports my plan!”

“So, what’s the plan? We go in, find Yelena and our mutant friend, and then what?” Walker mused, his hands placed on his lips. He watched Bucky moving his first steps, almost leaving the porch and facing the fog alone.

“Stay there. I’m going to drag her out of this and we’ll be back,” he growled, his eyes flaring with anger and determination: your safety was his priority. 

“What!?” echoed Ava and Walker together, their faces contorted in dismay at the former Winter Soldier’s sudden declaration. 

“Hey, hey, slow down a bit” Alexei interrupted, wrapping his strong hand around Bucky’s vibranium shoulder and forcing the ex-assassin to turn and look at him. “I know you’re the mighty Winter Soldier, and you’re cool enough to be unstoppable and kick everyone’s ass along the way. But you can’t face this alone. We must stick together as the Thunderbolts!”

Bucky looked down and his jaw tightened as he absorbed the Red Guardian’s words. Although temporarily blinded by his protective instincts towards you, he had to admit that Alexei was right. He could not face the threat alone if the enemy had expanded their powers on a large scale. 

He closed his eyelids, inhaling deeply before resting his gaze on the remaining team, looking at them with a solemn expression.

“We'll go there together, then. Try to find Yelena once you’re inside. I’m going to find my girlfriend, and then we’ll manage to meet up together. Is all that clear?” he said solemnly, the word “girlfriend” still spilling easily from his mouth despite your relationship having ended years ago.

At first, silence was their answer. The group quickly exchanged glances, as if looking for implicit confirmation from each other. Then, after moments that seemed like an eternity, the three looked at Bucky, approving his plan as a new sense of hope lifted the group’s spirit. 

Walker turned his gaze towards the dark hole and took the first steps towards it. “Try not to get stuck there, Bucky,” he said dryly, the super soldier’s faint smirk was his only answer.

“Let’s go, Thunderbolts!” Alexei roared in support, his spirits lifted again by the slightly increased possibility of seeing Yelena alive.

All four of them entered the ghostly city, the fresh air of New York caressing their skin for the last time before darkness consumed them. Ava was the first to step inside, her body being claimed as soon as her feet touched the black ground. Walker and Alexei followed, marching with no hesitation as their bodies turned into shadows and were claimed by the darkness.

When it was Bucky’s turn, he hesitated at first. He stood still and watched the dark needles advance quickly, covering the shadows of his friends and then going to claim him.

He lifted his gaze slightly, looking into the heart of the darkness. Countless images of his past flashed before his eyes and his spirit was weakened by the thought of reliving a past that he had spent his whole life trying to redeem, wearing its scars like a second skin.

But he remembered the purpose of his actions, and a new wave of determination pushed him into action. He would rewatch his torture and brainwashing, he would fight his former self as the Winter Soldier, he would never let the souls of the people he had tortured and brainwashed leave him, haunting him with their desperate cries and laughing at him every time he woke up trembling on the floor after another nightmare. 

If walking back from that darkness meant pulling you out from there, then no trauma would be able to stop him from reaching his purpose. 

Bucky took a deep breath before continuing his advance, his feet almost touching the black floor as he entered the tunnel.

And after taking the last step, his world went black.

If you've come this far, thank you so much for reading my fic! Hope you enjoyed it! Please, leave a comment if you want to be added in the taglist or be removed.7

Bucky Barnes Taglist: @volklana @sylasthegrim @watermeezer

[thenameswinterfics]

AO3 link added!

BETWEEN DARK AND THE VOID

Chapter 1 - L'Appel Du Vide

Header by me | Dividers by @emmanexelle | 18+ banner by @inklore

READ IT ON AO3

Pairing: Thunderbolts!Bucky Barnes x MutantFemale!Reader Setting: Thunderbolts* Summary: Reluctantly, after a call you accept to help Bucky, your ex-boyfriend, with a task. What should have been a simple impeachment becomes a New York rescue mission, swallowed by a mysterious dark fog. After failing to save two innocent people, and overwhelmed by guilt from your dark past, you answer the call of The Void and abandon yourself to the uncertainty of nothingness. It's up to Bucky to save you and bring you back. Word Count: 6.2 K Chapter Warnings: Thunderbolts* spoilers, angst, hurt, mention of past trauma, typical canon violence, mention of torture (not described), Reader being mean at first, protective Bucky, no use of y/n. If I have missed some CW, please let me know and I'll add them!

AN: I'm back, this time for real! I never thought that a Marvel movie and my old obsession with Bucky Barnes would bring the writing muses back to me. This is the first fic after some months of writing's block, so apologize if it's not perfect. Many thanks to my wife @sylasthegrim for helping me with the title and to my love @bcksbarnes for beta reading, brainstorming through the fic outline, being my cheerleader and simply bear with me. You're the best, I love you with all my heart! I highly expect this to flop, so thank you for the few ones who will read it.

ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE. I APOLOGISE IN ADVANCE FOR MY GRAMMAR AND VOCABULARY MISTAKES.

BUCKY BARNES MASTERLIST | BETWEEN DARK AND THE VOID MASTERLIST

Appel du vide: "The call of the void". French term that explains an urge to do something dangerous even though you don’t intend to.

The streets of New York had never been so dark.

The skyscrapers that once towered over the city, imposing and gleaming, now disappeared into a veil of darkness, their figures swallowed up in an ominous embrace. Even cars and people seemed to suffer the same fate, falling into a dark hole that slowly, but dangerously, spread through the streets; swallowing everything in its path.

Above this dark fog, Void stood, now in full control of Bob, watching the chaos unfold beneath his feet, not blinking at the high-pitched screams of people running for safety. As he stood, like a god descending to earth to judge mankind, he slowly raised a hand, transforming people into powdery silhouettes stuck to the ground, soon to be moulded by the impending darkness as it moved swiftly towards the crowd.

It was like the scene of one of the most terrifying horror films: planes crashing next to buildings, piles of rubble falling from the sky and destroying everything in sight, cries of children looking for their parents. People ran with every ounce of strength they had left to escape this dark nightmare that was spreading across the city like a living shadow, swallowing up hope, light and every trace of normal life in its relentless path.

But this was the reality. And nothing would seem willing to stop this madness.

You paused under a porch with the rest of the Thunderbolts, your cheeks flushed as you placed your palm against the cold plaster of the wall, your chest rising and falling at a fast pace. You could hear Bucky muttering a few words as he watched the city go pitch black, Walker holding an unstable Alexei, ranting about losing Yelena and not forgiving himself. Ava was the only one silent, pondering her next move, and you were glad that your powers did not allow you to read people's minds, or you would go mad between your own thoughts and those of others.

You knew something was wrong the moment Bucky called you after months of silence; given the strained relations between you two, you were even surprised that the former Hydra assassin - now Brooklyn Congressman - had the time to dial your number and ask for your support with a mission.

You were different from the other heroes and villains who lived among humans — there was something deep and unpredictable in your genetics that set you apart. Most of them chose to become one voluntarily, undergoing genetic experiments to enhance their physical abilities. Others were tech geniuses who compensated for their lack of physical strength with their intellect, building armour and other technical equipment to support civilians. Then there were those who were simply highly trained agents and assassins, who had spent most of their lives honing their bodies into weapons for use for either good or evil.

But you? You were born with powers; your genes had been mutating naturally ever since you were in your mother's womb. There were no labs, no special training, no choices. It was just you, emerging with untamed powers cursing through your veins, marking you as someone superior to the humans.

In the same way you didn’t choose who to work with, you were too young to understand the wrong hands you had fallen into. You were a victim of your own father’s plans to rule the world, seeing you as both his cherished daughter and his precious weapon.

After years of being chained against your will, you became a free spirit, travelling the world and playing the role of the hero you'd never been, helping people and saving them from the clutches of enemies. No matter how strong or bizarre the villains were, whether they were dangerous aliens from another universe or little bullies tormenting the weak boy at school: you would be there, steady and vigilant, protecting every human in your sight. Whether this was your sudden calling, or simply a way to lift your shoulders from the burden of your past, orto keep your hands clean from the innocent blood spilled, was hard for you to know.

But as you listened to Congressman Barnes' voice - low and soft, which was how he usually spoke to you - rattle on about a crucial task for the New York citizens, you realised how high the stakes were.

He called it “impeachment”, a way to remove Valentina and her shady business away from the CIA and the government, and valid witnesses were still on the loose. Four former assassins who cleaned the mess the woman made, four valid testimonies that would make Val’s empire fall like a house of cards. Who better than you to know the best tactics to track down a group of former criminals and catch them?

A part of you wanted to refuse — you were “cleaned” from that shady business. And how could you ever work for the political machine that still had a price on your head, after being a former criminal yourself? The same twisted mechanism that drove a wall between you and Bucky? 

Yet, the shivers that ran down your spine when you heard Bucky's voice, the way his tongue rolled deliciously every time he called you 'doll', the pleading tone of his request, the puppy-dog steel-blue eyes that you could almost feel through the screen…it made it hard for you to decline.

And so there you were, stuck with your ex-boyfriend and a bunch of people you barely met less than 24 hours before, one of them lost into the darkness. 

Not the best situation to find yourself in the last moments of your life. 

“I’m going after her,” Ava said, breaking the silence as she marched quickly through the dark fog that continued to spread.

Bucky grabbed her arm with his vibranium hand, stopping her from carrying out her plan. “And then what?”

“If she walked there, she did it for a reason,” Ava answered quickly, nervously looking at the black fog spreading.

“What if she’s dead? What if there’s no coming back?” Bucky countered, the frustration and worry in his voice clear to hear. They had already lost Yelena, as well as many others who had fallen victim to Void’s actions. Deep down, he was regretful for not being the hero he wanted to be, and for letting down all the people who had applauded him just minutes before the disaster was unleashed.

It was a sight that reminded him of all the sleepless nights and looming nightmares, and of that damn little notebook with all those names marked in it, deluding him into believing he was absolved of sins he himself was not the main perpetrator of. 

Your heart ached to see him so defeated. So remorseful. 

"He's right, Ava," you said, standing up straight and joining the conversation. Your voice was still slightly breathless from the previous run. “Did we all see what happened to Yelena?” She was there with us, flesh and blood, with just a few scratches on her pretty face. And now? Puff! Vanished! Gone!” You grabbed your knees, allowing your lungs to catch as much air as they could before continuing. “Let’s get one thing straight. We lost. Just… how can we protect the people of this city if we aren’t able to defend ourselves? We can’t win against that thing. It’s over.”

A heavy silence fell over the group, and you almost cursed yourself for what you had said. Had they lifted the group's spirits? Of course not. 

“You know? You have many great qualities, but comforting people isn’t one of them” said Ava, breaking the silence once again. Her voice was decisive and carried a hint of disdain. Then, she faced Bucky again, her gaze sweeping over the city. “And about Yelena. What if she isn’t gone?”

“How do you know that?” Bucky replied, his voice a little lower as he resumed his argument with her. You turned your head to look for any human who had escaped the powers of the Void, and that was where your world stopped.

And Bucky's words were the last you heard.

Everything around you grew muffled and distant, as if you were sinking underwater. You could hear Walker muttering something to the team, but his words seemed to come from miles away. Alexei's voice was next, you were sure of it, but this time you couldn’t make out his exact words. A third voice called out to you - who was it this time? Ava? Bucky? You imagining Yelena’s witty comments over you? You couldn't tell - it sounded like distant echoes. 

You seemed gone, your mind disconnected from your body, travelling to another universe. But the truth was that something - or someone - caught your attention. 

Your gaze was drawn to a small figure in the distance, wriggling through the rubble, and the rest of the world faded away. You could hear and feel the child’s loud cries in your ears and in your heart. You could feel your eardrums ringing and your chest tightening in an uncomfortable vice. Next to the child was a woman who quickly scooped him up and ran as if her life depended on it. They were running away — or at least trying to — desperately seeking refuge to save themselves temporarily.

They were like the same civilians that you had tried to help before but failed to save, and who had now been sucked into the void. 

And suddenly your words ceased to make sense.

“We lost”, suddenly echoed in your head. “How can we protect the people of this city if we aren’t able to defend ourselves?” These words made you wrinkle your nose in disgust. How could you ever call yourself a hero when your mind was clouded by such pessimistic thoughts? Had you not sworn to protect the most vulnerable after leaving your brutal past behind?

The shame of your words gnawed at you, raw and relentless. Hearing the mother reassure her son, keeping her nerves steady despite the situation made you feel the urge to act again. They were a reminder of how hard they were still fighting. How they were still trying.

This gave you a new sense of hope. Maybe the war was far from over.

You quickly stood up, your hands trembling and adrenaline suddenly rushing through your veins as if your body had awoken from a paralysed state. Without thinking, you started running towards them, your mind filled with a new sense of purpose.

But your dreams of glory were cut short by a firm grasp on your arm and the coldness of metal beneath your leather tactical suit. You turned your gaze and saw Bucky watching you with a clenched jaw and a severe but worried look in his steel-blue eyes.

“Where do you think you're going, doll?” he asked in a low, gravelly voice, pulling you close with a firm grip. It was bruising, but not tight enough to cause pain.

“Let me go, Barnes!” you replied through clenched teeth, jerking your arm free. He loosened his grip and you stood facing each other while the rest of the group watched, ready to intervene if either of you lost your temper.

“There are still civilians out there who can be saved. I’ll go and keep them safe-”

“So what? Do you want to end up like Yelena? Disappearing inside that black thing and leaving no trace?” Bucky snapped at you, your sudden recklessness was the last thing he needed. There was no venom in his words, only concern and… Was it protectiveness what you felt?

“You've seen how devastated Alexei is. Do you think we can face another loss like that? Well, let me tell you something, doll. We can’t take another loss like that. I can’t bear the thought of losing you!”

You stared at him, stunned by his words. You noticed how his voice faltered when he said he couldn’t bear your absence, how his body trembled when he was overcome with anger and fear, and the apprehension lurking beneath his words. Suddenly, memories of your past together rushed wildly through your mind, making your breathing quicken and your heart hammer in your chest.

That was the Bucky you fell in love with. The damaged super soldier who struggled to find his place in the world. The man who would scream in the middle of the night, beads of sweat on his forehead, and you would rush to his side, cradling him in your arms and mentally curse Hydra for the damage they had done to him. The sweet, caring and overly protective man who would always watch your back on missions, check your wounds and kiss every inch of your bruised skin to ease the pain. The man who would not hesitate to sacrifice his life for you.

But that part of him died the moment he chose to run for Congress, hiding behind a cloak of righteousness that felt uncharacteristic. You could see it in the way he immersed himself in the country's twisted politics, pretending to read file after file and barely acknowledging your presence in the house. You could see it in the way he came home late and stressed from endless meetings, barely having time for you. And when you chose to run away and find your own place in the world? There were no messages, no missed calls and no attempt to trace you.

You became strangers. Never before had you considered going back to when life was easier for the two of you, when you would cuddle up together, feeling the ghost of his lips on yours.

No, there was no time to regret what had been. The lives of ordinary people were more important than a futile argument.

“James,” you called him, his real name felt strange on your tongue. “I saw a mother and child running through the streets, trying to find shelter. They can’t save themselves if we stand here mulling over what to do.”

You saw Bucky moving around nervously, his hands firmly on his hips and his gaze darting between the black fog and you. “You will fail like all the others we have saved before. Like we failed to keep Yelena with us. If they're not dead, they're stuck in that nightmare from which there's no escape."

“We don’t know if we don’t try!” you countered back, frustration rising in your voice as you heard the few people’s screams die behind you, making you more and more nervous.

“Oh, so Miss ‘We-Fail-Because-We-Suck’ feels guilty and decided to return to action?” Walker joined the conversation, a hint of mockery in his serious voice. 

“I don't need you to remind me of what I said before, Walker, thank you,”' you replied, annoyed. “Stay here and mutter all you want, but those two people outside are still our last hope, and I won’t be the one to let them down.”

You approached Bucky with slow and deliberate steps, your hand raised in an attempt to cup his cheek but you stopped mid air, afraid that he would not welcome your gesture. It was the intensity of his gaze that made you want to give up, but then your hand was on his cheek, gently rubbing his stubble. 

“I’ve seen that look of yours, James. Every damn time. You think it’s because of you why we’re all stuck here, you feel guilty because you brought us with you and see the failure of your actions in our eyes,” you spoke to him, low and soft, as if you were talking to a frightened child, “You have done more than enough. You couldn't have foreseen that this would happen. You have all played your part. Now it's my turn. Let me make things right for once in my life.”

You were about to turn and leave the group when you felt a sudden warmth anchor you in place — a firm, slightly trembling hand covering yours. Bucky's hand held yours with an intensity you hadn't felt in years. In that breathless instant, his steel-blue eyes met yours, no longer guarded or distant. Behind them was something burning and pleading, like a man standing at the edge of a cliff, desperate to be heard before the wind carried everything away.

“I won't allow you to sacrifice yourself, doll,” Bucky replied firmly, his voice contrasting with the anxiety he was feeling. Drawing on the last of your mental strength, you slipped your hand out of his.

“I'm not going to ask your permission,” you said, turning your back on him. Before his hands could reach you again, you were gone, like sand carried by the wind. 

The city opened up before you, revealing a surreal scene: the dusty streets were strewn with debris and parts of places had been destroyed amid the chaos that had unfolded. But it was the deafening silence that struck you the most, so atypical for such a huge, lively city.

In the distance, you could hear the soft, quick footsteps of the remaining survivors, the gradually fading noise of cars, and several thuds that echoed in the air — a sign that they had been sent into that darkness with no apparent escape.

You were now standing in an open field, easily navigating the debris as you scanned the area for the mother and son running away in the distance. Maintaining your focus, you pressed your palms against the boulders, which shattered into many small pieces as they fell softly to the ground. Dust swirled in the air as you moved forward with fluid, measured movements, turning over large boulders and clearing the way for the civilians still fleeing.

From a young age, you had the ability to manipulate matter and turn it into whatever you pleased. You first demonstrated this ability when you were with your mother at home. A soft crackling sound came from the ceiling, startling you both, but it wasn’t serious enough to cause any alarm. Then the crack spread further and splinters of wood began to fall to the ground. When you saw that the entire beam was about to collapse, something inside you snapped.

At first, it felt as if time had stopped and the wooden beams were gracefully floating above your head. Then, as if in response to an unspoken command, you could feel the air humming around you. The matter melted and reformed as the splintered wood bent and flowed like liquid silk. The newly formed jagged shards fell to the ground like a thousand needles.

Your father called this a blessing. You called it a curse.

As you grew up, you learned about the dangerous paths you could take with your abilities, and your father forced you to do things you would later regret. You reshaped walls, floors and ceilings whenever you needed to break in unnoticed; you turned a broken chair into a weapon whenever there was a fight; and you were quick to disarm enemy weapons. You could still remember how easily you turned an endowed rifle into a puddle of dark liquid, giving you an advantage in close encounters.

It wasn't just the objects that could be mutated; the enhancements to your powers also enabled you to reshape human molecular structures. At first, the changes were subtle – a quick realignment of a shoulder or cauterisation of a wound. Then, under your father’s command, you were pushed further and soon learned how to break and reform bone density, alter muscle tissue and dull pain receptors in others to force compliance or enhance physical performance. 

You couldn’t count how many people you'd fixed before breaking them in the most vicious ways, some of them not surviving at your powers. You wore their pleading eyes and cries of help as a second skin, and the helplessness in their eyes was the purpose that made you escape from a reality that had become suffocating, that brought you only regret and endless nightmares.

And you swore to keep this part of your life buried forever.

After looking around, your gaze finally fell upon two figures stumbling around on the ground, recognizing them as the mother and child you had seen with the group earlier. Behind them, the black blanket advanced threateningly. It would only take a few minutes before they, too, would become black silhouettes on the ground. 

Mustering all your remaining strength you moved hurriedly, your adrenaline winning over your aching legs. Clearing the path of debris, you were quick to reach the two people, swiftly reaching for their arms and helping them up, before turning and running in the opposite direction of the fog.

“Keep going and don’t look back!” you called out, your voice slightly hoarse from the fatigue, “I’m here. You’re safe with me.”

The woman blinked rapidly and placed her child safely at her side, a flicker of gratitude crossed her frightened gaze. This stirred something new inside you, filling your chest with a sense of contentment. You were used to people looking at you with fear and submission, as if you were a monster walking among them. But this woman thanked you silently with her eyes? It made you believe that you were finally doing something right in your life.

You took a deep breath before resuming your run. Controlling two bodies while sprinting through wreckage was no easy feat, but you didn’t let that deter you. Your resolve was hard to falter.

As you scanned the horizon, only one safe place emerged in your mind: the porch where the Thunderbolts were watching you - silent and still while holding their breath - the only place in the whole city untouched by the spreading darkness, the only place that could shelter two civilians before coming up with a plan to stop that madness.

You were both halfway through the run when you felt your lungs burning inside, the muscles in your body desperately pleading mercy - you felt the need to stop and give yourself some time. But you couldn’t, no. You won’t stop. 

This wasn’t about your endurance anymore. This was about safety.

And so you kept pushing harder with your legs, sprinting firmly but under control to prevent the people holding hands with you from falling during the path. Step by step, you could see the arch approaching on the horizon, and a sense of relief washed over you: you were almost there. One more little effort and your mission would be accomplished.

You could do this. You had to do this.

And then you felt it.

Thud.

A piercing, howling sound reached your ears, sending shivers down your spine. For a moment a part of you feels lighter, as if you were running faster. But it was when you turned back and checked the mother and child’s health that reality stuck at you as a loud smack in your face.

They were gone, turned into powdery silhouettes, stuck in the ground and sent who knows where.

The realisation hit you, fear crept into every bone in your body and, for a moment, you forgot how to breathe properly. Your body was completely spent after being pushed to its limit, and you felt your legs giving in, collapsing under your weight. 

The air felt heavy, your surroundings blurring into emptiness as every sound faded until complete silence was reached. But only one noise crept into your mind: an annoying little voice repeating a phrase that had been your mantra all your life.

You failed. 

The thought was sharp and cruel, gripping your heart like a vice and making you feel sick. 'You failed' repeated over and over again like a broken record, a merciless reminder that no matter how hard you tried to be a hero and do things right, you failed.

How could you protect the people of this city if you just kept getting them into trouble?

The dark fog continued to advance undisturbed, engulfing and reclaiming the mother and her son's shadows. The group's attempts to bring you back were in vain: shouting and inviting you to join them on the porch, you couldn’t hear them, too focused on the darkness reaching you. Soon, you would become part of that nothingness — a nothingness you thought belonged to you.

It was there that you raised your head, and you finally saw him clearly.

The Void.

The dark figure floated motionless in the air, looking at you with white spotlights that seemed to peer into your soul. You didn’t see his lips curl into a mocking smile, nor did you feel the judgement leaving his mouth – if you could have seen it – instead, he just looked at you as if waiting for your next move. 

He tilted his head slightly before finally speaking up. His voice was deep, and its measured pace reflected the weight of her words, which hung in the air like an approaching storm.

“Is that why you're so sad? We're all alone. Hopeless. Without redemption.”

And you never felt so understood in your life.

You were used and abused countless times, your mind bent by the will of people who wanted to use your powers for ulterior motives, and you were too young and scared to break free. 

By the time you realised what they had turned you into, it was too late. You looked in the mirror and didn’t recognise yourself: not your face, not your eyes, and certainly not your hands. Hands that you had washed almost maniacally every day, watching the water turn red in your eyes when it was actually crystal clear. You couldn’t find comfort in the silence; only the cries of men and women begging you to stop torturing them and leave them alone filled your ears. It was all too much for you to bear. How many of them had families who would never see them again? The same happy family that was ripped away from you when you were just a child, a victim of your father’s ambitions?

You thought Bucky could be your beacon in the storm. Hell, that man’s life was a horror story, and he could empathise with your sins and past mistakes. But you were too afraid to tell him about your past, afraid that he would turn you away after learning that you had committed crimes possibly worse than his own. Now your paths were divided by an invisible wall, and you had never felt so alone. 

Nothingness is all you have left.

Acting on impulse, you stood up and marched silently towards the dark fog. There was no wavering in your actions, no second thoughts. 

The Void was calling you, and you were eager to answer its call.

You heard someone -  a very familiar voice - shout at you to turn around. But this didn’t stop your silent march; your body moved towards the dark needles approaching you as if on autopilot.

All you had to do was take a step, and all your pain and remorse would disappear with you.

While hearing a muffled, raw, broken scream, your foot stepped onto the black ground.

And your body moulded into the darkness.

Bucky felt as if his world had collapsed in on itself. Destroyed, disintegrated in the same way his own body had turned to dust years ago when Thanos claimed half of the population's lives by snapping his fingers.

This time, however, the Avengers would not be there to save the day. No one would build a time machine and retrieve six powerful stones, nor would anyone snap their fingers and bring back all the people swallowed by the void.

You were gone, just like Yelena. Just like everyone else.

His mind short-circuited, the guilt of not being able to save New York’s people mingled with the regret of not being able to stop you and your selfless actions. Countless images and what-ifs crossed his thoughts — what if he had followed you and pulled you away sooner? What if he had been more insistent and said no? What if he had been strong enough to counter your stubbornness, to hold you in his arms and never let you go again? 

But there were no answers in the echoes of what-ifs. Only silence.

Unlike his former self, Bucky was never one for many words. His time in the clutches of Hydra was enough to break his spirit, strip him of his confidence, and rob him of his cheerfulness. All that remained were the emotional scars that would never fade. He became a shell of his former self: a grumpy, introverted 110-year-old man who believed that pain was an inevitable part of life and was more inclined to expect negative things than positive ones.

Since being released, he had spent most of his days trying to make amends and find a way to redeem himself. He would sit in the eerie quietness of his apartment, muttering about a past that still haunted him, and about the ghosts of all the people he had murdered and who came to visit him in his sleep. Then he would wake up with short, frantic gasps, his gaze fixed on an empty spot, while the sound of the television in the background tried — in vain — to calm his racing heart. 

Bucky slipped into a daily routine that he struggled to adjust to: mandatory therapy sessions in the morning, undertaken more out of a sense of duty than for relief; solo missions throughout the day to erase the names of people on his list who wanted closure. Loneliness in the evening and nightmares at night. Each day was the same as the previous one, and the day after that would be the same again.

But you? You were the one who shattered his monotonous routine.

You slipped quietly into Bucky's life and became the spark that ignited it. Despite the aura of mystery that wrapped you like a veil, you gave him a sense of purpose, helping him to break free from his endless cycle of pain and self-loathing. With you, he rediscovered the meaning of love and being loved. His fear of being touched melted away beneath the warmth and delicacy of your touch. His body trembled and demanded more, his flesh burned under your fingerprints. Whenever he felt insecure, you would remind him that every part of him was perfect, kissing and adoring the scars on the joint of his metal shoulder — the part of him he disliked the most, but which you were immediately drawn to. 

But your love was not enough to appease his desire to help others and redeem his past, and when the world of politics opened up, something between you cracked. Soft whispers of love turned into heated arguments and nights curled up in bed together became a distant memory. You grew further and further apart until you disappeared without trace. 

In the silence of his feigned apathy, Bucky’s heart was breaking; your distance was far worse than the torture inflicted by Zola and his men. Relief filled his chest when you agreed to help him, albeit reluctantly, and part of him promised that, once Valentina was out of the picture, he would take you in his arms and kiss every inch of your face, murmuring endless apologies against your skin. His arms would wrap around your waist as he promised that he would never push you away again, in the hope that you would both have the restart you deserve.

But now The Void had taken you, trapping you in his dark fog, and with you, every possibility of reconciliation had disappeared.

Bucky could feel his legs trembling beneath him. If it were not for Alexei’s strong arms supporting him, he would have fallen to the ground. The group stood in silence, watching as Bucky’s face contorted with desperation and misery. His blue eyes were glassy and devoid of light, and his mouth moved involuntarily, whispering apologies that could not be heard. It was a sign that he had given up, that all your efforts to stop Bob were in vain, and that giving him the whole city was the only solution to this never-ending puzzle.

Just when he felt he had hit rock bottom, a glimmer of hope took him by surprise. His head turned slightly towards the darkness, and he was struck by a sudden epiphany. 

His mind darted back to the conversation he had had with the Thunderbolts just minutes earlier, before your stubbornness had won out over your rational thinking and led you to your suicide plan. He remembered how Walker had approached him and Ava, admitting that she was right and that there was indeed something lurking in the darkness. The former Captain America recalled the dread he had felt after touching Bob, reliving for a bit the period in his life when everything had fallen apart, when he had failed both as a father and a husband.

A part of him was partially relieved that this could not be the end, that somehow you and Yelena could be saved. It was the reviving of the past that frightened him, more yours than his. Bucky had always been unaware of your history, having confessed at your behest your despondency at reliving certain stages of your life. He feared what you might be forced to witness and how you would change after returning to him. How broken you would be. 

With a newfound strength Bucky stood up, his gaze resting on the dark fog, which had almost engulfed most of the city.

“She must be trapped somewhere there,” Bucky muttered with his jaw clenched, drawing the group's attention. “I have to get her out of there.”

Ava was the first to respond, almost nodding in agreement with his idea. “Thank you,” she said. “Someone who supports my plan!”

“So, what’s the plan? We go in, find Yelena and our mutant friend, and then what?” Walker mused, his hands placed on his lips. He watched Bucky moving his first steps, almost leaving the porch and facing the fog alone.

“Stay there. I’m going to drag her out of this and we’ll be back,” he growled, his eyes flaring with anger and determination: your safety was his priority. 

“What!?” echoed Ava and Walker together, their faces contorted in dismay at the former Winter Soldier’s sudden declaration. 

“Hey, hey, slow down a bit” Alexei interrupted, wrapping his strong hand around Bucky’s vibranium shoulder and forcing the ex-assassin to turn and look at him. “I know you’re the mighty Winter Soldier, and you’re cool enough to be unstoppable and kick everyone’s ass along the way. But you can’t face this alone. We must stick together as the Thunderbolts!”

Bucky looked down and his jaw tightened as he absorbed the Red Guardian’s words. Although temporarily blinded by his protective instincts towards you, he had to admit that Alexei was right. He could not face the threat alone if the enemy had expanded their powers on a large scale. 

He closed his eyelids, inhaling deeply before resting his gaze on the remaining team, looking at them with a solemn expression.

“We'll go there together, then. Try to find Yelena once you’re inside. I’m going to find my girlfriend, and then we’ll manage to meet up together. Is all that clear?” he said solemnly, the word “girlfriend” still spilling easily from his mouth despite your relationship having ended years ago.

At first, silence was their answer. The group quickly exchanged glances, as if looking for implicit confirmation from each other. Then, after moments that seemed like an eternity, the three looked at Bucky, approving his plan as a new sense of hope lifted the group’s spirit. 

Walker turned his gaze towards the dark hole and took the first steps towards it. “Try not to get stuck there, Bucky,” he said dryly, the super soldier’s faint smirk was his only answer.

“Let’s go, Thunderbolts!” Alexei roared in support, his spirits lifted again by the slightly increased possibility of seeing Yelena alive.

All four of them entered the ghostly city, the fresh air of New York caressing their skin for the last time before darkness consumed them. Ava was the first to step inside, her body being claimed as soon as her feet touched the black ground. Walker and Alexei followed, marching with no hesitation as their bodies turned into shadows and were claimed by the darkness.

When it was Bucky’s turn, he hesitated at first. He stood still and watched the dark needles advance quickly, covering the shadows of his friends and then going to claim him.

He lifted his gaze slightly, looking into the heart of the darkness. Countless images of his past flashed before his eyes and his spirit was weakened by the thought of reliving a past that he had spent his whole life trying to redeem, wearing its scars like a second skin.

But he remembered the purpose of his actions, and a new wave of determination pushed him into action. He would rewatch his torture and brainwashing, he would fight his former self as the Winter Soldier, he would never let the souls of the people he had tortured and brainwashed leave him, haunting him with their desperate cries and laughing at him every time he woke up trembling on the floor after another nightmare. 

If walking back from that darkness meant pulling you out from there, then no trauma would be able to stop him from reaching his purpose. 

Bucky took a deep breath before continuing his advance, his feet almost touching the black floor as he entered the tunnel.

And after taking the last step, his world went black.

If you've come this far, thank you so much for reading my fic! Hope you enjoyed it! Please, leave a comment if you want to be added in the taglist or be removed.7

Bucky Barnes Taglist: @volklana @sylasthegrim @watermeezer

[thenameswinterfics]

You comment made me speechless, really. I never consider myself a good storyteller, I always think that everything I write is totally nonsense.

I had planned this story after the Thunderbolts vision, and while I completed my outline I was about to delete everything because I felt it would be nonsense.

I'm glad I had people stopping me, you including, and believing in me. I'm so happy to see you have enjoyed this so much, and I hope not to let you disappointed for the next! 💜

Thank you again for the lovely comment (said from one of the best writers and biggest inspirations like you makes me emotional and warms my heart, really), and it's good to come back writing. 💜

BETWEEN DARK AND THE VOID

Chapter 1 - L'Appel Du Vide

Header by me | Dividers by @emmanexelle | 18+ banner by @inklore

READ IT ON AO3

Pairing: Thunderbolts!Bucky Barnes x MutantFemale!Reader Setting: Thunderbolts* Summary: Reluctantly, after a call you accept to help Bucky, your ex-boyfriend, with a task. What should have been a simple impeachment becomes a New York rescue mission, swallowed by a mysterious dark fog. After failing to save two innocent people, and overwhelmed by guilt from your dark past, you answer the call of The Void and abandon yourself to the uncertainty of nothingness. It's up to Bucky to save you and bring you back. Word Count: 6.2 K Chapter Warnings: Thunderbolts* spoilers, angst, hurt, mention of past trauma, typical canon violence, mention of torture (not described), Reader being mean at first, protective Bucky, no use of y/n. If I have missed some CW, please let me know and I'll add them!

AN: I'm back, this time for real! I never thought that a Marvel movie and my old obsession with Bucky Barnes would bring the writing muses back to me. This is the first fic after some months of writing's block, so apologize if it's not perfect. Many thanks to my wife @sylasthegrim for helping me with the title and to my love @bcksbarnes for beta reading, brainstorming through the fic outline, being my cheerleader and simply bear with me. You're the best, I love you with all my heart! I highly expect this to flop, so thank you for the few ones who will read it.

ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE. I APOLOGISE IN ADVANCE FOR MY GRAMMAR AND VOCABULARY MISTAKES.

BUCKY BARNES MASTERLIST | BETWEEN DARK AND THE VOID MASTERLIST

Appel du vide: "The call of the void". French term that explains an urge to do something dangerous even though you don’t intend to.

The streets of New York had never been so dark.

The skyscrapers that once towered over the city, imposing and gleaming, now disappeared into a veil of darkness, their figures swallowed up in an ominous embrace. Even cars and people seemed to suffer the same fate, falling into a dark hole that slowly, but dangerously, spread through the streets; swallowing everything in its path.

Above this dark fog, Void stood, now in full control of Bob, watching the chaos unfold beneath his feet, not blinking at the high-pitched screams of people running for safety. As he stood, like a god descending to earth to judge mankind, he slowly raised a hand, transforming people into powdery silhouettes stuck to the ground, soon to be moulded by the impending darkness as it moved swiftly towards the crowd.

It was like the scene of one of the most terrifying horror films: planes crashing next to buildings, piles of rubble falling from the sky and destroying everything in sight, cries of children looking for their parents. People ran with every ounce of strength they had left to escape this dark nightmare that was spreading across the city like a living shadow, swallowing up hope, light and every trace of normal life in its relentless path.

But this was the reality. And nothing would seem willing to stop this madness.

You paused under a porch with the rest of the Thunderbolts, your cheeks flushed as you placed your palm against the cold plaster of the wall, your chest rising and falling at a fast pace. You could hear Bucky muttering a few words as he watched the city go pitch black, Walker holding an unstable Alexei, ranting about losing Yelena and not forgiving himself. Ava was the only one silent, pondering her next move, and you were glad that your powers did not allow you to read people's minds, or you would go mad between your own thoughts and those of others.

You knew something was wrong the moment Bucky called you after months of silence; given the strained relations between you two, you were even surprised that the former Hydra assassin - now Brooklyn Congressman - had the time to dial your number and ask for your support with a mission.

You were different from the other heroes and villains who lived among humans — there was something deep and unpredictable in your genetics that set you apart. Most of them chose to become one voluntarily, undergoing genetic experiments to enhance their physical abilities. Others were tech geniuses who compensated for their lack of physical strength with their intellect, building armour and other technical equipment to support civilians. Then there were those who were simply highly trained agents and assassins, who had spent most of their lives honing their bodies into weapons for use for either good or evil.

But you? You were born with powers; your genes had been mutating naturally ever since you were in your mother's womb. There were no labs, no special training, no choices. It was just you, emerging with untamed powers cursing through your veins, marking you as someone superior to the humans.

In the same way you didn’t choose who to work with, you were too young to understand the wrong hands you had fallen into. You were a victim of your own father’s plans to rule the world, seeing you as both his cherished daughter and his precious weapon.

After years of being chained against your will, you became a free spirit, travelling the world and playing the role of the hero you'd never been, helping people and saving them from the clutches of enemies. No matter how strong or bizarre the villains were, whether they were dangerous aliens from another universe or little bullies tormenting the weak boy at school: you would be there, steady and vigilant, protecting every human in your sight. Whether this was your sudden calling, or simply a way to lift your shoulders from the burden of your past, orto keep your hands clean from the innocent blood spilled, was hard for you to know.

But as you listened to Congressman Barnes' voice - low and soft, which was how he usually spoke to you - rattle on about a crucial task for the New York citizens, you realised how high the stakes were.

He called it “impeachment”, a way to remove Valentina and her shady business away from the CIA and the government, and valid witnesses were still on the loose. Four former assassins who cleaned the mess the woman made, four valid testimonies that would make Val’s empire fall like a house of cards. Who better than you to know the best tactics to track down a group of former criminals and catch them?

A part of you wanted to refuse — you were “cleaned” from that shady business. And how could you ever work for the political machine that still had a price on your head, after being a former criminal yourself? The same twisted mechanism that drove a wall between you and Bucky? 

Yet, the shivers that ran down your spine when you heard Bucky's voice, the way his tongue rolled deliciously every time he called you 'doll', the pleading tone of his request, the puppy-dog steel-blue eyes that you could almost feel through the screen…it made it hard for you to decline.

And so there you were, stuck with your ex-boyfriend and a bunch of people you barely met less than 24 hours before, one of them lost into the darkness. 

Not the best situation to find yourself in the last moments of your life. 

“I’m going after her,” Ava said, breaking the silence as she marched quickly through the dark fog that continued to spread.

Bucky grabbed her arm with his vibranium hand, stopping her from carrying out her plan. “And then what?”

“If she walked there, she did it for a reason,” Ava answered quickly, nervously looking at the black fog spreading.

“What if she’s dead? What if there’s no coming back?” Bucky countered, the frustration and worry in his voice clear to hear. They had already lost Yelena, as well as many others who had fallen victim to Void’s actions. Deep down, he was regretful for not being the hero he wanted to be, and for letting down all the people who had applauded him just minutes before the disaster was unleashed.

It was a sight that reminded him of all the sleepless nights and looming nightmares, and of that damn little notebook with all those names marked in it, deluding him into believing he was absolved of sins he himself was not the main perpetrator of. 

Your heart ached to see him so defeated. So remorseful. 

"He's right, Ava," you said, standing up straight and joining the conversation. Your voice was still slightly breathless from the previous run. “Did we all see what happened to Yelena?” She was there with us, flesh and blood, with just a few scratches on her pretty face. And now? Puff! Vanished! Gone!” You grabbed your knees, allowing your lungs to catch as much air as they could before continuing. “Let’s get one thing straight. We lost. Just… how can we protect the people of this city if we aren’t able to defend ourselves? We can’t win against that thing. It’s over.”

A heavy silence fell over the group, and you almost cursed yourself for what you had said. Had they lifted the group's spirits? Of course not. 

“You know? You have many great qualities, but comforting people isn’t one of them” said Ava, breaking the silence once again. Her voice was decisive and carried a hint of disdain. Then, she faced Bucky again, her gaze sweeping over the city. “And about Yelena. What if she isn’t gone?”

“How do you know that?” Bucky replied, his voice a little lower as he resumed his argument with her. You turned your head to look for any human who had escaped the powers of the Void, and that was where your world stopped.

And Bucky's words were the last you heard.

Everything around you grew muffled and distant, as if you were sinking underwater. You could hear Walker muttering something to the team, but his words seemed to come from miles away. Alexei's voice was next, you were sure of it, but this time you couldn’t make out his exact words. A third voice called out to you - who was it this time? Ava? Bucky? You imagining Yelena’s witty comments over you? You couldn't tell - it sounded like distant echoes. 

You seemed gone, your mind disconnected from your body, travelling to another universe. But the truth was that something - or someone - caught your attention. 

Your gaze was drawn to a small figure in the distance, wriggling through the rubble, and the rest of the world faded away. You could hear and feel the child’s loud cries in your ears and in your heart. You could feel your eardrums ringing and your chest tightening in an uncomfortable vice. Next to the child was a woman who quickly scooped him up and ran as if her life depended on it. They were running away — or at least trying to — desperately seeking refuge to save themselves temporarily.

They were like the same civilians that you had tried to help before but failed to save, and who had now been sucked into the void. 

And suddenly your words ceased to make sense.

“We lost”, suddenly echoed in your head. “How can we protect the people of this city if we aren’t able to defend ourselves?” These words made you wrinkle your nose in disgust. How could you ever call yourself a hero when your mind was clouded by such pessimistic thoughts? Had you not sworn to protect the most vulnerable after leaving your brutal past behind?

The shame of your words gnawed at you, raw and relentless. Hearing the mother reassure her son, keeping her nerves steady despite the situation made you feel the urge to act again. They were a reminder of how hard they were still fighting. How they were still trying.

This gave you a new sense of hope. Maybe the war was far from over.

You quickly stood up, your hands trembling and adrenaline suddenly rushing through your veins as if your body had awoken from a paralysed state. Without thinking, you started running towards them, your mind filled with a new sense of purpose.

But your dreams of glory were cut short by a firm grasp on your arm and the coldness of metal beneath your leather tactical suit. You turned your gaze and saw Bucky watching you with a clenched jaw and a severe but worried look in his steel-blue eyes.

“Where do you think you're going, doll?” he asked in a low, gravelly voice, pulling you close with a firm grip. It was bruising, but not tight enough to cause pain.

“Let me go, Barnes!” you replied through clenched teeth, jerking your arm free. He loosened his grip and you stood facing each other while the rest of the group watched, ready to intervene if either of you lost your temper.

“There are still civilians out there who can be saved. I’ll go and keep them safe-”

“So what? Do you want to end up like Yelena? Disappearing inside that black thing and leaving no trace?” Bucky snapped at you, your sudden recklessness was the last thing he needed. There was no venom in his words, only concern and… Was it protectiveness what you felt?

“You've seen how devastated Alexei is. Do you think we can face another loss like that? Well, let me tell you something, doll. We can’t take another loss like that. I can’t bear the thought of losing you!”

You stared at him, stunned by his words. You noticed how his voice faltered when he said he couldn’t bear your absence, how his body trembled when he was overcome with anger and fear, and the apprehension lurking beneath his words. Suddenly, memories of your past together rushed wildly through your mind, making your breathing quicken and your heart hammer in your chest.

That was the Bucky you fell in love with. The damaged super soldier who struggled to find his place in the world. The man who would scream in the middle of the night, beads of sweat on his forehead, and you would rush to his side, cradling him in your arms and mentally curse Hydra for the damage they had done to him. The sweet, caring and overly protective man who would always watch your back on missions, check your wounds and kiss every inch of your bruised skin to ease the pain. The man who would not hesitate to sacrifice his life for you.

But that part of him died the moment he chose to run for Congress, hiding behind a cloak of righteousness that felt uncharacteristic. You could see it in the way he immersed himself in the country's twisted politics, pretending to read file after file and barely acknowledging your presence in the house. You could see it in the way he came home late and stressed from endless meetings, barely having time for you. And when you chose to run away and find your own place in the world? There were no messages, no missed calls and no attempt to trace you.

You became strangers. Never before had you considered going back to when life was easier for the two of you, when you would cuddle up together, feeling the ghost of his lips on yours.

No, there was no time to regret what had been. The lives of ordinary people were more important than a futile argument.

“James,” you called him, his real name felt strange on your tongue. “I saw a mother and child running through the streets, trying to find shelter. They can’t save themselves if we stand here mulling over what to do.”

You saw Bucky moving around nervously, his hands firmly on his hips and his gaze darting between the black fog and you. “You will fail like all the others we have saved before. Like we failed to keep Yelena with us. If they're not dead, they're stuck in that nightmare from which there's no escape."

“We don’t know if we don’t try!” you countered back, frustration rising in your voice as you heard the few people’s screams die behind you, making you more and more nervous.

“Oh, so Miss ‘We-Fail-Because-We-Suck’ feels guilty and decided to return to action?” Walker joined the conversation, a hint of mockery in his serious voice. 

“I don't need you to remind me of what I said before, Walker, thank you,”' you replied, annoyed. “Stay here and mutter all you want, but those two people outside are still our last hope, and I won’t be the one to let them down.”

You approached Bucky with slow and deliberate steps, your hand raised in an attempt to cup his cheek but you stopped mid air, afraid that he would not welcome your gesture. It was the intensity of his gaze that made you want to give up, but then your hand was on his cheek, gently rubbing his stubble. 

“I’ve seen that look of yours, James. Every damn time. You think it’s because of you why we’re all stuck here, you feel guilty because you brought us with you and see the failure of your actions in our eyes,” you spoke to him, low and soft, as if you were talking to a frightened child, “You have done more than enough. You couldn't have foreseen that this would happen. You have all played your part. Now it's my turn. Let me make things right for once in my life.”

You were about to turn and leave the group when you felt a sudden warmth anchor you in place — a firm, slightly trembling hand covering yours. Bucky's hand held yours with an intensity you hadn't felt in years. In that breathless instant, his steel-blue eyes met yours, no longer guarded or distant. Behind them was something burning and pleading, like a man standing at the edge of a cliff, desperate to be heard before the wind carried everything away.

“I won't allow you to sacrifice yourself, doll,” Bucky replied firmly, his voice contrasting with the anxiety he was feeling. Drawing on the last of your mental strength, you slipped your hand out of his.

“I'm not going to ask your permission,” you said, turning your back on him. Before his hands could reach you again, you were gone, like sand carried by the wind. 

The city opened up before you, revealing a surreal scene: the dusty streets were strewn with debris and parts of places had been destroyed amid the chaos that had unfolded. But it was the deafening silence that struck you the most, so atypical for such a huge, lively city.

In the distance, you could hear the soft, quick footsteps of the remaining survivors, the gradually fading noise of cars, and several thuds that echoed in the air — a sign that they had been sent into that darkness with no apparent escape.

You were now standing in an open field, easily navigating the debris as you scanned the area for the mother and son running away in the distance. Maintaining your focus, you pressed your palms against the boulders, which shattered into many small pieces as they fell softly to the ground. Dust swirled in the air as you moved forward with fluid, measured movements, turning over large boulders and clearing the way for the civilians still fleeing.

From a young age, you had the ability to manipulate matter and turn it into whatever you pleased. You first demonstrated this ability when you were with your mother at home. A soft crackling sound came from the ceiling, startling you both, but it wasn’t serious enough to cause any alarm. Then the crack spread further and splinters of wood began to fall to the ground. When you saw that the entire beam was about to collapse, something inside you snapped.

At first, it felt as if time had stopped and the wooden beams were gracefully floating above your head. Then, as if in response to an unspoken command, you could feel the air humming around you. The matter melted and reformed as the splintered wood bent and flowed like liquid silk. The newly formed jagged shards fell to the ground like a thousand needles.

Your father called this a blessing. You called it a curse.

As you grew up, you learned about the dangerous paths you could take with your abilities, and your father forced you to do things you would later regret. You reshaped walls, floors and ceilings whenever you needed to break in unnoticed; you turned a broken chair into a weapon whenever there was a fight; and you were quick to disarm enemy weapons. You could still remember how easily you turned an endowed rifle into a puddle of dark liquid, giving you an advantage in close encounters.

It wasn't just the objects that could be mutated; the enhancements to your powers also enabled you to reshape human molecular structures. At first, the changes were subtle – a quick realignment of a shoulder or cauterisation of a wound. Then, under your father’s command, you were pushed further and soon learned how to break and reform bone density, alter muscle tissue and dull pain receptors in others to force compliance or enhance physical performance. 

You couldn’t count how many people you'd fixed before breaking them in the most vicious ways, some of them not surviving at your powers. You wore their pleading eyes and cries of help as a second skin, and the helplessness in their eyes was the purpose that made you escape from a reality that had become suffocating, that brought you only regret and endless nightmares.

And you swore to keep this part of your life buried forever.

After looking around, your gaze finally fell upon two figures stumbling around on the ground, recognizing them as the mother and child you had seen with the group earlier. Behind them, the black blanket advanced threateningly. It would only take a few minutes before they, too, would become black silhouettes on the ground. 

Mustering all your remaining strength you moved hurriedly, your adrenaline winning over your aching legs. Clearing the path of debris, you were quick to reach the two people, swiftly reaching for their arms and helping them up, before turning and running in the opposite direction of the fog.

“Keep going and don’t look back!” you called out, your voice slightly hoarse from the fatigue, “I’m here. You’re safe with me.”

The woman blinked rapidly and placed her child safely at her side, a flicker of gratitude crossed her frightened gaze. This stirred something new inside you, filling your chest with a sense of contentment. You were used to people looking at you with fear and submission, as if you were a monster walking among them. But this woman thanked you silently with her eyes? It made you believe that you were finally doing something right in your life.

You took a deep breath before resuming your run. Controlling two bodies while sprinting through wreckage was no easy feat, but you didn’t let that deter you. Your resolve was hard to falter.

As you scanned the horizon, only one safe place emerged in your mind: the porch where the Thunderbolts were watching you - silent and still while holding their breath - the only place in the whole city untouched by the spreading darkness, the only place that could shelter two civilians before coming up with a plan to stop that madness.

You were both halfway through the run when you felt your lungs burning inside, the muscles in your body desperately pleading mercy - you felt the need to stop and give yourself some time. But you couldn’t, no. You won’t stop. 

This wasn’t about your endurance anymore. This was about safety.

And so you kept pushing harder with your legs, sprinting firmly but under control to prevent the people holding hands with you from falling during the path. Step by step, you could see the arch approaching on the horizon, and a sense of relief washed over you: you were almost there. One more little effort and your mission would be accomplished.

You could do this. You had to do this.

And then you felt it.

Thud.

A piercing, howling sound reached your ears, sending shivers down your spine. For a moment a part of you feels lighter, as if you were running faster. But it was when you turned back and checked the mother and child’s health that reality stuck at you as a loud smack in your face.

They were gone, turned into powdery silhouettes, stuck in the ground and sent who knows where.

The realisation hit you, fear crept into every bone in your body and, for a moment, you forgot how to breathe properly. Your body was completely spent after being pushed to its limit, and you felt your legs giving in, collapsing under your weight. 

The air felt heavy, your surroundings blurring into emptiness as every sound faded until complete silence was reached. But only one noise crept into your mind: an annoying little voice repeating a phrase that had been your mantra all your life.

You failed. 

The thought was sharp and cruel, gripping your heart like a vice and making you feel sick. 'You failed' repeated over and over again like a broken record, a merciless reminder that no matter how hard you tried to be a hero and do things right, you failed.

How could you protect the people of this city if you just kept getting them into trouble?

The dark fog continued to advance undisturbed, engulfing and reclaiming the mother and her son's shadows. The group's attempts to bring you back were in vain: shouting and inviting you to join them on the porch, you couldn’t hear them, too focused on the darkness reaching you. Soon, you would become part of that nothingness — a nothingness you thought belonged to you.

It was there that you raised your head, and you finally saw him clearly.

The Void.

The dark figure floated motionless in the air, looking at you with white spotlights that seemed to peer into your soul. You didn’t see his lips curl into a mocking smile, nor did you feel the judgement leaving his mouth – if you could have seen it – instead, he just looked at you as if waiting for your next move. 

He tilted his head slightly before finally speaking up. His voice was deep, and its measured pace reflected the weight of her words, which hung in the air like an approaching storm.

“Is that why you're so sad? We're all alone. Hopeless. Without redemption.”

And you never felt so understood in your life.

You were used and abused countless times, your mind bent by the will of people who wanted to use your powers for ulterior motives, and you were too young and scared to break free. 

By the time you realised what they had turned you into, it was too late. You looked in the mirror and didn’t recognise yourself: not your face, not your eyes, and certainly not your hands. Hands that you had washed almost maniacally every day, watching the water turn red in your eyes when it was actually crystal clear. You couldn’t find comfort in the silence; only the cries of men and women begging you to stop torturing them and leave them alone filled your ears. It was all too much for you to bear. How many of them had families who would never see them again? The same happy family that was ripped away from you when you were just a child, a victim of your father’s ambitions?

You thought Bucky could be your beacon in the storm. Hell, that man’s life was a horror story, and he could empathise with your sins and past mistakes. But you were too afraid to tell him about your past, afraid that he would turn you away after learning that you had committed crimes possibly worse than his own. Now your paths were divided by an invisible wall, and you had never felt so alone. 

Nothingness is all you have left.

Acting on impulse, you stood up and marched silently towards the dark fog. There was no wavering in your actions, no second thoughts. 

The Void was calling you, and you were eager to answer its call.

You heard someone -  a very familiar voice - shout at you to turn around. But this didn’t stop your silent march; your body moved towards the dark needles approaching you as if on autopilot.

All you had to do was take a step, and all your pain and remorse would disappear with you.

While hearing a muffled, raw, broken scream, your foot stepped onto the black ground.

And your body moulded into the darkness.

Bucky felt as if his world had collapsed in on itself. Destroyed, disintegrated in the same way his own body had turned to dust years ago when Thanos claimed half of the population's lives by snapping his fingers.

This time, however, the Avengers would not be there to save the day. No one would build a time machine and retrieve six powerful stones, nor would anyone snap their fingers and bring back all the people swallowed by the void.

You were gone, just like Yelena. Just like everyone else.

His mind short-circuited, the guilt of not being able to save New York’s people mingled with the regret of not being able to stop you and your selfless actions. Countless images and what-ifs crossed his thoughts — what if he had followed you and pulled you away sooner? What if he had been more insistent and said no? What if he had been strong enough to counter your stubbornness, to hold you in his arms and never let you go again? 

But there were no answers in the echoes of what-ifs. Only silence.

Unlike his former self, Bucky was never one for many words. His time in the clutches of Hydra was enough to break his spirit, strip him of his confidence, and rob him of his cheerfulness. All that remained were the emotional scars that would never fade. He became a shell of his former self: a grumpy, introverted 110-year-old man who believed that pain was an inevitable part of life and was more inclined to expect negative things than positive ones.

Since being released, he had spent most of his days trying to make amends and find a way to redeem himself. He would sit in the eerie quietness of his apartment, muttering about a past that still haunted him, and about the ghosts of all the people he had murdered and who came to visit him in his sleep. Then he would wake up with short, frantic gasps, his gaze fixed on an empty spot, while the sound of the television in the background tried — in vain — to calm his racing heart. 

Bucky slipped into a daily routine that he struggled to adjust to: mandatory therapy sessions in the morning, undertaken more out of a sense of duty than for relief; solo missions throughout the day to erase the names of people on his list who wanted closure. Loneliness in the evening and nightmares at night. Each day was the same as the previous one, and the day after that would be the same again.

But you? You were the one who shattered his monotonous routine.

You slipped quietly into Bucky's life and became the spark that ignited it. Despite the aura of mystery that wrapped you like a veil, you gave him a sense of purpose, helping him to break free from his endless cycle of pain and self-loathing. With you, he rediscovered the meaning of love and being loved. His fear of being touched melted away beneath the warmth and delicacy of your touch. His body trembled and demanded more, his flesh burned under your fingerprints. Whenever he felt insecure, you would remind him that every part of him was perfect, kissing and adoring the scars on the joint of his metal shoulder — the part of him he disliked the most, but which you were immediately drawn to. 

But your love was not enough to appease his desire to help others and redeem his past, and when the world of politics opened up, something between you cracked. Soft whispers of love turned into heated arguments and nights curled up in bed together became a distant memory. You grew further and further apart until you disappeared without trace. 

In the silence of his feigned apathy, Bucky’s heart was breaking; your distance was far worse than the torture inflicted by Zola and his men. Relief filled his chest when you agreed to help him, albeit reluctantly, and part of him promised that, once Valentina was out of the picture, he would take you in his arms and kiss every inch of your face, murmuring endless apologies against your skin. His arms would wrap around your waist as he promised that he would never push you away again, in the hope that you would both have the restart you deserve.

But now The Void had taken you, trapping you in his dark fog, and with you, every possibility of reconciliation had disappeared.

Bucky could feel his legs trembling beneath him. If it were not for Alexei’s strong arms supporting him, he would have fallen to the ground. The group stood in silence, watching as Bucky’s face contorted with desperation and misery. His blue eyes were glassy and devoid of light, and his mouth moved involuntarily, whispering apologies that could not be heard. It was a sign that he had given up, that all your efforts to stop Bob were in vain, and that giving him the whole city was the only solution to this never-ending puzzle.

Just when he felt he had hit rock bottom, a glimmer of hope took him by surprise. His head turned slightly towards the darkness, and he was struck by a sudden epiphany. 

His mind darted back to the conversation he had had with the Thunderbolts just minutes earlier, before your stubbornness had won out over your rational thinking and led you to your suicide plan. He remembered how Walker had approached him and Ava, admitting that she was right and that there was indeed something lurking in the darkness. The former Captain America recalled the dread he had felt after touching Bob, reliving for a bit the period in his life when everything had fallen apart, when he had failed both as a father and a husband.

A part of him was partially relieved that this could not be the end, that somehow you and Yelena could be saved. It was the reviving of the past that frightened him, more yours than his. Bucky had always been unaware of your history, having confessed at your behest your despondency at reliving certain stages of your life. He feared what you might be forced to witness and how you would change after returning to him. How broken you would be. 

With a newfound strength Bucky stood up, his gaze resting on the dark fog, which had almost engulfed most of the city.

“She must be trapped somewhere there,” Bucky muttered with his jaw clenched, drawing the group's attention. “I have to get her out of there.”

Ava was the first to respond, almost nodding in agreement with his idea. “Thank you,” she said. “Someone who supports my plan!”

“So, what’s the plan? We go in, find Yelena and our mutant friend, and then what?” Walker mused, his hands placed on his lips. He watched Bucky moving his first steps, almost leaving the porch and facing the fog alone.

“Stay there. I’m going to drag her out of this and we’ll be back,” he growled, his eyes flaring with anger and determination: your safety was his priority. 

“What!?” echoed Ava and Walker together, their faces contorted in dismay at the former Winter Soldier’s sudden declaration. 

“Hey, hey, slow down a bit” Alexei interrupted, wrapping his strong hand around Bucky’s vibranium shoulder and forcing the ex-assassin to turn and look at him. “I know you’re the mighty Winter Soldier, and you’re cool enough to be unstoppable and kick everyone’s ass along the way. But you can’t face this alone. We must stick together as the Thunderbolts!”

Bucky looked down and his jaw tightened as he absorbed the Red Guardian’s words. Although temporarily blinded by his protective instincts towards you, he had to admit that Alexei was right. He could not face the threat alone if the enemy had expanded their powers on a large scale. 

He closed his eyelids, inhaling deeply before resting his gaze on the remaining team, looking at them with a solemn expression.

“We'll go there together, then. Try to find Yelena once you’re inside. I’m going to find my girlfriend, and then we’ll manage to meet up together. Is all that clear?” he said solemnly, the word “girlfriend” still spilling easily from his mouth despite your relationship having ended years ago.

At first, silence was their answer. The group quickly exchanged glances, as if looking for implicit confirmation from each other. Then, after moments that seemed like an eternity, the three looked at Bucky, approving his plan as a new sense of hope lifted the group’s spirit. 

Walker turned his gaze towards the dark hole and took the first steps towards it. “Try not to get stuck there, Bucky,” he said dryly, the super soldier’s faint smirk was his only answer.

“Let’s go, Thunderbolts!” Alexei roared in support, his spirits lifted again by the slightly increased possibility of seeing Yelena alive.

All four of them entered the ghostly city, the fresh air of New York caressing their skin for the last time before darkness consumed them. Ava was the first to step inside, her body being claimed as soon as her feet touched the black ground. Walker and Alexei followed, marching with no hesitation as their bodies turned into shadows and were claimed by the darkness.

When it was Bucky’s turn, he hesitated at first. He stood still and watched the dark needles advance quickly, covering the shadows of his friends and then going to claim him.

He lifted his gaze slightly, looking into the heart of the darkness. Countless images of his past flashed before his eyes and his spirit was weakened by the thought of reliving a past that he had spent his whole life trying to redeem, wearing its scars like a second skin.

But he remembered the purpose of his actions, and a new wave of determination pushed him into action. He would rewatch his torture and brainwashing, he would fight his former self as the Winter Soldier, he would never let the souls of the people he had tortured and brainwashed leave him, haunting him with their desperate cries and laughing at him every time he woke up trembling on the floor after another nightmare. 

If walking back from that darkness meant pulling you out from there, then no trauma would be able to stop him from reaching his purpose. 

Bucky took a deep breath before continuing his advance, his feet almost touching the black floor as he entered the tunnel.

And after taking the last step, his world went black.

If you've come this far, thank you so much for reading my fic! Hope you enjoyed it! Please, leave a comment if you want to be added in the taglist or be removed.7

Bucky Barnes Taglist: @volklana @sylasthegrim @watermeezer

[thenameswinterfics]

MY J 💜💜

I know I already said it countless times, but thank you so much for being my rock during these days and during the whole writing process.

I was (and I still am) worried to post this, but your enthusiasm helped me with overcoming the urge to leave this in my WIP list forever.

I love you so much and thank you for being my friend and my costant presence in my days. 💜💜💜

BETWEEN DARK AND THE VOID

Chapter 1 - L'Appel Du Vide

Header by me | Dividers by @emmanexelle | 18+ banner by @inklore

READ IT ON AO3

Pairing: Thunderbolts!Bucky Barnes x MutantFemale!Reader Setting: Thunderbolts* Summary: Reluctantly, after a call you accept to help Bucky, your ex-boyfriend, with a task. What should have been a simple impeachment becomes a New York rescue mission, swallowed by a mysterious dark fog. After failing to save two innocent people, and overwhelmed by guilt from your dark past, you answer the call of The Void and abandon yourself to the uncertainty of nothingness. It's up to Bucky to save you and bring you back. Word Count: 6.2 K Chapter Warnings: Thunderbolts* spoilers, angst, hurt, mention of past trauma, typical canon violence, mention of torture (not described), Reader being mean at first, protective Bucky, no use of y/n. If I have missed some CW, please let me know and I'll add them!

AN: I'm back, this time for real! I never thought that a Marvel movie and my old obsession with Bucky Barnes would bring the writing muses back to me. This is the first fic after some months of writing's block, so apologize if it's not perfect. Many thanks to my wife @sylasthegrim for helping me with the title and to my love @bcksbarnes for beta reading, brainstorming through the fic outline, being my cheerleader and simply bear with me. You're the best, I love you with all my heart! I highly expect this to flop, so thank you for the few ones who will read it.

ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE. I APOLOGISE IN ADVANCE FOR MY GRAMMAR AND VOCABULARY MISTAKES.

BUCKY BARNES MASTERLIST | BETWEEN DARK AND THE VOID MASTERLIST

Appel du vide: "The call of the void". French term that explains an urge to do something dangerous even though you don’t intend to.

The streets of New York had never been so dark.

The skyscrapers that once towered over the city, imposing and gleaming, now disappeared into a veil of darkness, their figures swallowed up in an ominous embrace. Even cars and people seemed to suffer the same fate, falling into a dark hole that slowly, but dangerously, spread through the streets; swallowing everything in its path.

Above this dark fog, Void stood, now in full control of Bob, watching the chaos unfold beneath his feet, not blinking at the high-pitched screams of people running for safety. As he stood, like a god descending to earth to judge mankind, he slowly raised a hand, transforming people into powdery silhouettes stuck to the ground, soon to be moulded by the impending darkness as it moved swiftly towards the crowd.

It was like the scene of one of the most terrifying horror films: planes crashing next to buildings, piles of rubble falling from the sky and destroying everything in sight, cries of children looking for their parents. People ran with every ounce of strength they had left to escape this dark nightmare that was spreading across the city like a living shadow, swallowing up hope, light and every trace of normal life in its relentless path.

But this was the reality. And nothing would seem willing to stop this madness.

You paused under a porch with the rest of the Thunderbolts, your cheeks flushed as you placed your palm against the cold plaster of the wall, your chest rising and falling at a fast pace. You could hear Bucky muttering a few words as he watched the city go pitch black, Walker holding an unstable Alexei, ranting about losing Yelena and not forgiving himself. Ava was the only one silent, pondering her next move, and you were glad that your powers did not allow you to read people's minds, or you would go mad between your own thoughts and those of others.

You knew something was wrong the moment Bucky called you after months of silence; given the strained relations between you two, you were even surprised that the former Hydra assassin - now Brooklyn Congressman - had the time to dial your number and ask for your support with a mission.

You were different from the other heroes and villains who lived among humans — there was something deep and unpredictable in your genetics that set you apart. Most of them chose to become one voluntarily, undergoing genetic experiments to enhance their physical abilities. Others were tech geniuses who compensated for their lack of physical strength with their intellect, building armour and other technical equipment to support civilians. Then there were those who were simply highly trained agents and assassins, who had spent most of their lives honing their bodies into weapons for use for either good or evil.

But you? You were born with powers; your genes had been mutating naturally ever since you were in your mother's womb. There were no labs, no special training, no choices. It was just you, emerging with untamed powers cursing through your veins, marking you as someone superior to the humans.

In the same way you didn’t choose who to work with, you were too young to understand the wrong hands you had fallen into. You were a victim of your own father’s plans to rule the world, seeing you as both his cherished daughter and his precious weapon.

After years of being chained against your will, you became a free spirit, travelling the world and playing the role of the hero you'd never been, helping people and saving them from the clutches of enemies. No matter how strong or bizarre the villains were, whether they were dangerous aliens from another universe or little bullies tormenting the weak boy at school: you would be there, steady and vigilant, protecting every human in your sight. Whether this was your sudden calling, or simply a way to lift your shoulders from the burden of your past, orto keep your hands clean from the innocent blood spilled, was hard for you to know.

But as you listened to Congressman Barnes' voice - low and soft, which was how he usually spoke to you - rattle on about a crucial task for the New York citizens, you realised how high the stakes were.

He called it “impeachment”, a way to remove Valentina and her shady business away from the CIA and the government, and valid witnesses were still on the loose. Four former assassins who cleaned the mess the woman made, four valid testimonies that would make Val’s empire fall like a house of cards. Who better than you to know the best tactics to track down a group of former criminals and catch them?

A part of you wanted to refuse — you were “cleaned” from that shady business. And how could you ever work for the political machine that still had a price on your head, after being a former criminal yourself? The same twisted mechanism that drove a wall between you and Bucky? 

Yet, the shivers that ran down your spine when you heard Bucky's voice, the way his tongue rolled deliciously every time he called you 'doll', the pleading tone of his request, the puppy-dog steel-blue eyes that you could almost feel through the screen…it made it hard for you to decline.

And so there you were, stuck with your ex-boyfriend and a bunch of people you barely met less than 24 hours before, one of them lost into the darkness. 

Not the best situation to find yourself in the last moments of your life. 

“I’m going after her,” Ava said, breaking the silence as she marched quickly through the dark fog that continued to spread.

Bucky grabbed her arm with his vibranium hand, stopping her from carrying out her plan. “And then what?”

“If she walked there, she did it for a reason,” Ava answered quickly, nervously looking at the black fog spreading.

“What if she’s dead? What if there’s no coming back?” Bucky countered, the frustration and worry in his voice clear to hear. They had already lost Yelena, as well as many others who had fallen victim to Void’s actions. Deep down, he was regretful for not being the hero he wanted to be, and for letting down all the people who had applauded him just minutes before the disaster was unleashed.

It was a sight that reminded him of all the sleepless nights and looming nightmares, and of that damn little notebook with all those names marked in it, deluding him into believing he was absolved of sins he himself was not the main perpetrator of. 

Your heart ached to see him so defeated. So remorseful. 

"He's right, Ava," you said, standing up straight and joining the conversation. Your voice was still slightly breathless from the previous run. “Did we all see what happened to Yelena?” She was there with us, flesh and blood, with just a few scratches on her pretty face. And now? Puff! Vanished! Gone!” You grabbed your knees, allowing your lungs to catch as much air as they could before continuing. “Let’s get one thing straight. We lost. Just… how can we protect the people of this city if we aren’t able to defend ourselves? We can’t win against that thing. It’s over.”

A heavy silence fell over the group, and you almost cursed yourself for what you had said. Had they lifted the group's spirits? Of course not. 

“You know? You have many great qualities, but comforting people isn’t one of them” said Ava, breaking the silence once again. Her voice was decisive and carried a hint of disdain. Then, she faced Bucky again, her gaze sweeping over the city. “And about Yelena. What if she isn’t gone?”

“How do you know that?” Bucky replied, his voice a little lower as he resumed his argument with her. You turned your head to look for any human who had escaped the powers of the Void, and that was where your world stopped.

And Bucky's words were the last you heard.

Everything around you grew muffled and distant, as if you were sinking underwater. You could hear Walker muttering something to the team, but his words seemed to come from miles away. Alexei's voice was next, you were sure of it, but this time you couldn’t make out his exact words. A third voice called out to you - who was it this time? Ava? Bucky? You imagining Yelena’s witty comments over you? You couldn't tell - it sounded like distant echoes. 

You seemed gone, your mind disconnected from your body, travelling to another universe. But the truth was that something - or someone - caught your attention. 

Your gaze was drawn to a small figure in the distance, wriggling through the rubble, and the rest of the world faded away. You could hear and feel the child’s loud cries in your ears and in your heart. You could feel your eardrums ringing and your chest tightening in an uncomfortable vice. Next to the child was a woman who quickly scooped him up and ran as if her life depended on it. They were running away — or at least trying to — desperately seeking refuge to save themselves temporarily.

They were like the same civilians that you had tried to help before but failed to save, and who had now been sucked into the void. 

And suddenly your words ceased to make sense.

“We lost”, suddenly echoed in your head. “How can we protect the people of this city if we aren’t able to defend ourselves?” These words made you wrinkle your nose in disgust. How could you ever call yourself a hero when your mind was clouded by such pessimistic thoughts? Had you not sworn to protect the most vulnerable after leaving your brutal past behind?

The shame of your words gnawed at you, raw and relentless. Hearing the mother reassure her son, keeping her nerves steady despite the situation made you feel the urge to act again. They were a reminder of how hard they were still fighting. How they were still trying.

This gave you a new sense of hope. Maybe the war was far from over.

You quickly stood up, your hands trembling and adrenaline suddenly rushing through your veins as if your body had awoken from a paralysed state. Without thinking, you started running towards them, your mind filled with a new sense of purpose.

But your dreams of glory were cut short by a firm grasp on your arm and the coldness of metal beneath your leather tactical suit. You turned your gaze and saw Bucky watching you with a clenched jaw and a severe but worried look in his steel-blue eyes.

“Where do you think you're going, doll?” he asked in a low, gravelly voice, pulling you close with a firm grip. It was bruising, but not tight enough to cause pain.

“Let me go, Barnes!” you replied through clenched teeth, jerking your arm free. He loosened his grip and you stood facing each other while the rest of the group watched, ready to intervene if either of you lost your temper.

“There are still civilians out there who can be saved. I’ll go and keep them safe-”

“So what? Do you want to end up like Yelena? Disappearing inside that black thing and leaving no trace?” Bucky snapped at you, your sudden recklessness was the last thing he needed. There was no venom in his words, only concern and… Was it protectiveness what you felt?

“You've seen how devastated Alexei is. Do you think we can face another loss like that? Well, let me tell you something, doll. We can’t take another loss like that. I can’t bear the thought of losing you!”

You stared at him, stunned by his words. You noticed how his voice faltered when he said he couldn’t bear your absence, how his body trembled when he was overcome with anger and fear, and the apprehension lurking beneath his words. Suddenly, memories of your past together rushed wildly through your mind, making your breathing quicken and your heart hammer in your chest.

That was the Bucky you fell in love with. The damaged super soldier who struggled to find his place in the world. The man who would scream in the middle of the night, beads of sweat on his forehead, and you would rush to his side, cradling him in your arms and mentally curse Hydra for the damage they had done to him. The sweet, caring and overly protective man who would always watch your back on missions, check your wounds and kiss every inch of your bruised skin to ease the pain. The man who would not hesitate to sacrifice his life for you.

But that part of him died the moment he chose to run for Congress, hiding behind a cloak of righteousness that felt uncharacteristic. You could see it in the way he immersed himself in the country's twisted politics, pretending to read file after file and barely acknowledging your presence in the house. You could see it in the way he came home late and stressed from endless meetings, barely having time for you. And when you chose to run away and find your own place in the world? There were no messages, no missed calls and no attempt to trace you.

You became strangers. Never before had you considered going back to when life was easier for the two of you, when you would cuddle up together, feeling the ghost of his lips on yours.

No, there was no time to regret what had been. The lives of ordinary people were more important than a futile argument.

“James,” you called him, his real name felt strange on your tongue. “I saw a mother and child running through the streets, trying to find shelter. They can’t save themselves if we stand here mulling over what to do.”

You saw Bucky moving around nervously, his hands firmly on his hips and his gaze darting between the black fog and you. “You will fail like all the others we have saved before. Like we failed to keep Yelena with us. If they're not dead, they're stuck in that nightmare from which there's no escape."

“We don’t know if we don’t try!” you countered back, frustration rising in your voice as you heard the few people’s screams die behind you, making you more and more nervous.

“Oh, so Miss ‘We-Fail-Because-We-Suck’ feels guilty and decided to return to action?” Walker joined the conversation, a hint of mockery in his serious voice. 

“I don't need you to remind me of what I said before, Walker, thank you,”' you replied, annoyed. “Stay here and mutter all you want, but those two people outside are still our last hope, and I won’t be the one to let them down.”

You approached Bucky with slow and deliberate steps, your hand raised in an attempt to cup his cheek but you stopped mid air, afraid that he would not welcome your gesture. It was the intensity of his gaze that made you want to give up, but then your hand was on his cheek, gently rubbing his stubble. 

“I’ve seen that look of yours, James. Every damn time. You think it’s because of you why we’re all stuck here, you feel guilty because you brought us with you and see the failure of your actions in our eyes,” you spoke to him, low and soft, as if you were talking to a frightened child, “You have done more than enough. You couldn't have foreseen that this would happen. You have all played your part. Now it's my turn. Let me make things right for once in my life.”

You were about to turn and leave the group when you felt a sudden warmth anchor you in place — a firm, slightly trembling hand covering yours. Bucky's hand held yours with an intensity you hadn't felt in years. In that breathless instant, his steel-blue eyes met yours, no longer guarded or distant. Behind them was something burning and pleading, like a man standing at the edge of a cliff, desperate to be heard before the wind carried everything away.

“I won't allow you to sacrifice yourself, doll,” Bucky replied firmly, his voice contrasting with the anxiety he was feeling. Drawing on the last of your mental strength, you slipped your hand out of his.

“I'm not going to ask your permission,” you said, turning your back on him. Before his hands could reach you again, you were gone, like sand carried by the wind. 

The city opened up before you, revealing a surreal scene: the dusty streets were strewn with debris and parts of places had been destroyed amid the chaos that had unfolded. But it was the deafening silence that struck you the most, so atypical for such a huge, lively city.

In the distance, you could hear the soft, quick footsteps of the remaining survivors, the gradually fading noise of cars, and several thuds that echoed in the air — a sign that they had been sent into that darkness with no apparent escape.

You were now standing in an open field, easily navigating the debris as you scanned the area for the mother and son running away in the distance. Maintaining your focus, you pressed your palms against the boulders, which shattered into many small pieces as they fell softly to the ground. Dust swirled in the air as you moved forward with fluid, measured movements, turning over large boulders and clearing the way for the civilians still fleeing.

From a young age, you had the ability to manipulate matter and turn it into whatever you pleased. You first demonstrated this ability when you were with your mother at home. A soft crackling sound came from the ceiling, startling you both, but it wasn’t serious enough to cause any alarm. Then the crack spread further and splinters of wood began to fall to the ground. When you saw that the entire beam was about to collapse, something inside you snapped.

At first, it felt as if time had stopped and the wooden beams were gracefully floating above your head. Then, as if in response to an unspoken command, you could feel the air humming around you. The matter melted and reformed as the splintered wood bent and flowed like liquid silk. The newly formed jagged shards fell to the ground like a thousand needles.

Your father called this a blessing. You called it a curse.

As you grew up, you learned about the dangerous paths you could take with your abilities, and your father forced you to do things you would later regret. You reshaped walls, floors and ceilings whenever you needed to break in unnoticed; you turned a broken chair into a weapon whenever there was a fight; and you were quick to disarm enemy weapons. You could still remember how easily you turned an endowed rifle into a puddle of dark liquid, giving you an advantage in close encounters.

It wasn't just the objects that could be mutated; the enhancements to your powers also enabled you to reshape human molecular structures. At first, the changes were subtle – a quick realignment of a shoulder or cauterisation of a wound. Then, under your father’s command, you were pushed further and soon learned how to break and reform bone density, alter muscle tissue and dull pain receptors in others to force compliance or enhance physical performance. 

You couldn’t count how many people you'd fixed before breaking them in the most vicious ways, some of them not surviving at your powers. You wore their pleading eyes and cries of help as a second skin, and the helplessness in their eyes was the purpose that made you escape from a reality that had become suffocating, that brought you only regret and endless nightmares.

And you swore to keep this part of your life buried forever.

After looking around, your gaze finally fell upon two figures stumbling around on the ground, recognizing them as the mother and child you had seen with the group earlier. Behind them, the black blanket advanced threateningly. It would only take a few minutes before they, too, would become black silhouettes on the ground. 

Mustering all your remaining strength you moved hurriedly, your adrenaline winning over your aching legs. Clearing the path of debris, you were quick to reach the two people, swiftly reaching for their arms and helping them up, before turning and running in the opposite direction of the fog.

“Keep going and don’t look back!” you called out, your voice slightly hoarse from the fatigue, “I’m here. You’re safe with me.”

The woman blinked rapidly and placed her child safely at her side, a flicker of gratitude crossed her frightened gaze. This stirred something new inside you, filling your chest with a sense of contentment. You were used to people looking at you with fear and submission, as if you were a monster walking among them. But this woman thanked you silently with her eyes? It made you believe that you were finally doing something right in your life.

You took a deep breath before resuming your run. Controlling two bodies while sprinting through wreckage was no easy feat, but you didn’t let that deter you. Your resolve was hard to falter.

As you scanned the horizon, only one safe place emerged in your mind: the porch where the Thunderbolts were watching you - silent and still while holding their breath - the only place in the whole city untouched by the spreading darkness, the only place that could shelter two civilians before coming up with a plan to stop that madness.

You were both halfway through the run when you felt your lungs burning inside, the muscles in your body desperately pleading mercy - you felt the need to stop and give yourself some time. But you couldn’t, no. You won’t stop. 

This wasn’t about your endurance anymore. This was about safety.

And so you kept pushing harder with your legs, sprinting firmly but under control to prevent the people holding hands with you from falling during the path. Step by step, you could see the arch approaching on the horizon, and a sense of relief washed over you: you were almost there. One more little effort and your mission would be accomplished.

You could do this. You had to do this.

And then you felt it.

Thud.

A piercing, howling sound reached your ears, sending shivers down your spine. For a moment a part of you feels lighter, as if you were running faster. But it was when you turned back and checked the mother and child’s health that reality stuck at you as a loud smack in your face.

They were gone, turned into powdery silhouettes, stuck in the ground and sent who knows where.

The realisation hit you, fear crept into every bone in your body and, for a moment, you forgot how to breathe properly. Your body was completely spent after being pushed to its limit, and you felt your legs giving in, collapsing under your weight. 

The air felt heavy, your surroundings blurring into emptiness as every sound faded until complete silence was reached. But only one noise crept into your mind: an annoying little voice repeating a phrase that had been your mantra all your life.

You failed. 

The thought was sharp and cruel, gripping your heart like a vice and making you feel sick. 'You failed' repeated over and over again like a broken record, a merciless reminder that no matter how hard you tried to be a hero and do things right, you failed.

How could you protect the people of this city if you just kept getting them into trouble?

The dark fog continued to advance undisturbed, engulfing and reclaiming the mother and her son's shadows. The group's attempts to bring you back were in vain: shouting and inviting you to join them on the porch, you couldn’t hear them, too focused on the darkness reaching you. Soon, you would become part of that nothingness — a nothingness you thought belonged to you.

It was there that you raised your head, and you finally saw him clearly.

The Void.

The dark figure floated motionless in the air, looking at you with white spotlights that seemed to peer into your soul. You didn’t see his lips curl into a mocking smile, nor did you feel the judgement leaving his mouth – if you could have seen it – instead, he just looked at you as if waiting for your next move. 

He tilted his head slightly before finally speaking up. His voice was deep, and its measured pace reflected the weight of her words, which hung in the air like an approaching storm.

“Is that why you're so sad? We're all alone. Hopeless. Without redemption.”

And you never felt so understood in your life.

You were used and abused countless times, your mind bent by the will of people who wanted to use your powers for ulterior motives, and you were too young and scared to break free. 

By the time you realised what they had turned you into, it was too late. You looked in the mirror and didn’t recognise yourself: not your face, not your eyes, and certainly not your hands. Hands that you had washed almost maniacally every day, watching the water turn red in your eyes when it was actually crystal clear. You couldn’t find comfort in the silence; only the cries of men and women begging you to stop torturing them and leave them alone filled your ears. It was all too much for you to bear. How many of them had families who would never see them again? The same happy family that was ripped away from you when you were just a child, a victim of your father’s ambitions?

You thought Bucky could be your beacon in the storm. Hell, that man’s life was a horror story, and he could empathise with your sins and past mistakes. But you were too afraid to tell him about your past, afraid that he would turn you away after learning that you had committed crimes possibly worse than his own. Now your paths were divided by an invisible wall, and you had never felt so alone. 

Nothingness is all you have left.

Acting on impulse, you stood up and marched silently towards the dark fog. There was no wavering in your actions, no second thoughts. 

The Void was calling you, and you were eager to answer its call.

You heard someone -  a very familiar voice - shout at you to turn around. But this didn’t stop your silent march; your body moved towards the dark needles approaching you as if on autopilot.

All you had to do was take a step, and all your pain and remorse would disappear with you.

While hearing a muffled, raw, broken scream, your foot stepped onto the black ground.

And your body moulded into the darkness.

Bucky felt as if his world had collapsed in on itself. Destroyed, disintegrated in the same way his own body had turned to dust years ago when Thanos claimed half of the population's lives by snapping his fingers.

This time, however, the Avengers would not be there to save the day. No one would build a time machine and retrieve six powerful stones, nor would anyone snap their fingers and bring back all the people swallowed by the void.

You were gone, just like Yelena. Just like everyone else.

His mind short-circuited, the guilt of not being able to save New York’s people mingled with the regret of not being able to stop you and your selfless actions. Countless images and what-ifs crossed his thoughts — what if he had followed you and pulled you away sooner? What if he had been more insistent and said no? What if he had been strong enough to counter your stubbornness, to hold you in his arms and never let you go again? 

But there were no answers in the echoes of what-ifs. Only silence.

Unlike his former self, Bucky was never one for many words. His time in the clutches of Hydra was enough to break his spirit, strip him of his confidence, and rob him of his cheerfulness. All that remained were the emotional scars that would never fade. He became a shell of his former self: a grumpy, introverted 110-year-old man who believed that pain was an inevitable part of life and was more inclined to expect negative things than positive ones.

Since being released, he had spent most of his days trying to make amends and find a way to redeem himself. He would sit in the eerie quietness of his apartment, muttering about a past that still haunted him, and about the ghosts of all the people he had murdered and who came to visit him in his sleep. Then he would wake up with short, frantic gasps, his gaze fixed on an empty spot, while the sound of the television in the background tried — in vain — to calm his racing heart. 

Bucky slipped into a daily routine that he struggled to adjust to: mandatory therapy sessions in the morning, undertaken more out of a sense of duty than for relief; solo missions throughout the day to erase the names of people on his list who wanted closure. Loneliness in the evening and nightmares at night. Each day was the same as the previous one, and the day after that would be the same again.

But you? You were the one who shattered his monotonous routine.

You slipped quietly into Bucky's life and became the spark that ignited it. Despite the aura of mystery that wrapped you like a veil, you gave him a sense of purpose, helping him to break free from his endless cycle of pain and self-loathing. With you, he rediscovered the meaning of love and being loved. His fear of being touched melted away beneath the warmth and delicacy of your touch. His body trembled and demanded more, his flesh burned under your fingerprints. Whenever he felt insecure, you would remind him that every part of him was perfect, kissing and adoring the scars on the joint of his metal shoulder — the part of him he disliked the most, but which you were immediately drawn to. 

But your love was not enough to appease his desire to help others and redeem his past, and when the world of politics opened up, something between you cracked. Soft whispers of love turned into heated arguments and nights curled up in bed together became a distant memory. You grew further and further apart until you disappeared without trace. 

In the silence of his feigned apathy, Bucky’s heart was breaking; your distance was far worse than the torture inflicted by Zola and his men. Relief filled his chest when you agreed to help him, albeit reluctantly, and part of him promised that, once Valentina was out of the picture, he would take you in his arms and kiss every inch of your face, murmuring endless apologies against your skin. His arms would wrap around your waist as he promised that he would never push you away again, in the hope that you would both have the restart you deserve.

But now The Void had taken you, trapping you in his dark fog, and with you, every possibility of reconciliation had disappeared.

Bucky could feel his legs trembling beneath him. If it were not for Alexei’s strong arms supporting him, he would have fallen to the ground. The group stood in silence, watching as Bucky’s face contorted with desperation and misery. His blue eyes were glassy and devoid of light, and his mouth moved involuntarily, whispering apologies that could not be heard. It was a sign that he had given up, that all your efforts to stop Bob were in vain, and that giving him the whole city was the only solution to this never-ending puzzle.

Just when he felt he had hit rock bottom, a glimmer of hope took him by surprise. His head turned slightly towards the darkness, and he was struck by a sudden epiphany. 

His mind darted back to the conversation he had had with the Thunderbolts just minutes earlier, before your stubbornness had won out over your rational thinking and led you to your suicide plan. He remembered how Walker had approached him and Ava, admitting that she was right and that there was indeed something lurking in the darkness. The former Captain America recalled the dread he had felt after touching Bob, reliving for a bit the period in his life when everything had fallen apart, when he had failed both as a father and a husband.

A part of him was partially relieved that this could not be the end, that somehow you and Yelena could be saved. It was the reviving of the past that frightened him, more yours than his. Bucky had always been unaware of your history, having confessed at your behest your despondency at reliving certain stages of your life. He feared what you might be forced to witness and how you would change after returning to him. How broken you would be. 

With a newfound strength Bucky stood up, his gaze resting on the dark fog, which had almost engulfed most of the city.

“She must be trapped somewhere there,” Bucky muttered with his jaw clenched, drawing the group's attention. “I have to get her out of there.”

Ava was the first to respond, almost nodding in agreement with his idea. “Thank you,” she said. “Someone who supports my plan!”

“So, what’s the plan? We go in, find Yelena and our mutant friend, and then what?” Walker mused, his hands placed on his lips. He watched Bucky moving his first steps, almost leaving the porch and facing the fog alone.

“Stay there. I’m going to drag her out of this and we’ll be back,” he growled, his eyes flaring with anger and determination: your safety was his priority. 

“What!?” echoed Ava and Walker together, their faces contorted in dismay at the former Winter Soldier’s sudden declaration. 

“Hey, hey, slow down a bit” Alexei interrupted, wrapping his strong hand around Bucky’s vibranium shoulder and forcing the ex-assassin to turn and look at him. “I know you’re the mighty Winter Soldier, and you’re cool enough to be unstoppable and kick everyone’s ass along the way. But you can’t face this alone. We must stick together as the Thunderbolts!”

Bucky looked down and his jaw tightened as he absorbed the Red Guardian’s words. Although temporarily blinded by his protective instincts towards you, he had to admit that Alexei was right. He could not face the threat alone if the enemy had expanded their powers on a large scale. 

He closed his eyelids, inhaling deeply before resting his gaze on the remaining team, looking at them with a solemn expression.

“We'll go there together, then. Try to find Yelena once you’re inside. I’m going to find my girlfriend, and then we’ll manage to meet up together. Is all that clear?” he said solemnly, the word “girlfriend” still spilling easily from his mouth despite your relationship having ended years ago.

At first, silence was their answer. The group quickly exchanged glances, as if looking for implicit confirmation from each other. Then, after moments that seemed like an eternity, the three looked at Bucky, approving his plan as a new sense of hope lifted the group’s spirit. 

Walker turned his gaze towards the dark hole and took the first steps towards it. “Try not to get stuck there, Bucky,” he said dryly, the super soldier’s faint smirk was his only answer.

“Let’s go, Thunderbolts!” Alexei roared in support, his spirits lifted again by the slightly increased possibility of seeing Yelena alive.

All four of them entered the ghostly city, the fresh air of New York caressing their skin for the last time before darkness consumed them. Ava was the first to step inside, her body being claimed as soon as her feet touched the black ground. Walker and Alexei followed, marching with no hesitation as their bodies turned into shadows and were claimed by the darkness.

When it was Bucky’s turn, he hesitated at first. He stood still and watched the dark needles advance quickly, covering the shadows of his friends and then going to claim him.

He lifted his gaze slightly, looking into the heart of the darkness. Countless images of his past flashed before his eyes and his spirit was weakened by the thought of reliving a past that he had spent his whole life trying to redeem, wearing its scars like a second skin.

But he remembered the purpose of his actions, and a new wave of determination pushed him into action. He would rewatch his torture and brainwashing, he would fight his former self as the Winter Soldier, he would never let the souls of the people he had tortured and brainwashed leave him, haunting him with their desperate cries and laughing at him every time he woke up trembling on the floor after another nightmare. 

If walking back from that darkness meant pulling you out from there, then no trauma would be able to stop him from reaching his purpose. 

Bucky took a deep breath before continuing his advance, his feet almost touching the black floor as he entered the tunnel.

And after taking the last step, his world went black.

If you've come this far, thank you so much for reading my fic! Hope you enjoyed it! Please, leave a comment if you want to be added in the taglist or be removed.7

Bucky Barnes Taglist: @volklana @sylasthegrim @watermeezer

[thenameswinterfics]

BETWEEN DARK AND THE VOID

Chapter 1 - L'Appel Du Vide

Header by me | Dividers by @emmanexelle | 18+ banner by @inklore

READ IT ON AO3

Pairing: Thunderbolts!Bucky Barnes x MutantFemale!Reader Setting: Thunderbolts* Summary: Reluctantly, after a call you accept to help Bucky, your ex-boyfriend, with a task. What should have been a simple impeachment becomes a New York rescue mission, swallowed by a mysterious dark fog. After failing to save two innocent people, and overwhelmed by guilt from your dark past, you answer the call of The Void and abandon yourself to the uncertainty of nothingness. It's up to Bucky to save you and bring you back. Word Count: 6.2 K Chapter Warnings: Thunderbolts* spoilers, angst, hurt, mention of past trauma, typical canon violence, mention of torture (not described), Reader being mean at first, protective Bucky, no use of y/n. If I have missed some CW, please let me know and I'll add them!

AN: I'm back, this time for real! I never thought that a Marvel movie and my old obsession with Bucky Barnes would bring the writing muses back to me. This is the first fic after some months of writing's block, so apologize if it's not perfect. Many thanks to my wife @sylasthegrim for helping me with the title and to my love @bcksbarnes for beta reading, brainstorming through the fic outline, being my cheerleader and simply bear with me. You're the best, I love you with all my heart! I highly expect this to flop, so thank you for the few ones who will read it.

ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE. I APOLOGISE IN ADVANCE FOR MY GRAMMAR AND VOCABULARY MISTAKES.

BUCKY BARNES MASTERLIST | BETWEEN DARK AND THE VOID MASTERLIST

Appel du vide: "The call of the void". French term that explains an urge to do something dangerous even though you don’t intend to.

The streets of New York had never been so dark.

The skyscrapers that once towered over the city, imposing and gleaming, now disappeared into a veil of darkness, their figures swallowed up in an ominous embrace. Even cars and people seemed to suffer the same fate, falling into a dark hole that slowly, but dangerously, spread through the streets; swallowing everything in its path.

Above this dark fog, Void stood, now in full control of Bob, watching the chaos unfold beneath his feet, not blinking at the high-pitched screams of people running for safety. As he stood, like a god descending to earth to judge mankind, he slowly raised a hand, transforming people into powdery silhouettes stuck to the ground, soon to be moulded by the impending darkness as it moved swiftly towards the crowd.

It was like the scene of one of the most terrifying horror films: planes crashing next to buildings, piles of rubble falling from the sky and destroying everything in sight, cries of children looking for their parents. People ran with every ounce of strength they had left to escape this dark nightmare that was spreading across the city like a living shadow, swallowing up hope, light and every trace of normal life in its relentless path.

But this was the reality. And nothing would seem willing to stop this madness.

You paused under a porch with the rest of the Thunderbolts, your cheeks flushed as you placed your palm against the cold plaster of the wall, your chest rising and falling at a fast pace. You could hear Bucky muttering a few words as he watched the city go pitch black, Walker holding an unstable Alexei, ranting about losing Yelena and not forgiving himself. Ava was the only one silent, pondering her next move, and you were glad that your powers did not allow you to read people's minds, or you would go mad between your own thoughts and those of others.

You knew something was wrong the moment Bucky called you after months of silence; given the strained relations between you two, you were even surprised that the former Hydra assassin - now Brooklyn Congressman - had the time to dial your number and ask for your support with a mission.

You were different from the other heroes and villains who lived among humans — there was something deep and unpredictable in your genetics that set you apart. Most of them chose to become one voluntarily, undergoing genetic experiments to enhance their physical abilities. Others were tech geniuses who compensated for their lack of physical strength with their intellect, building armour and other technical equipment to support civilians. Then there were those who were simply highly trained agents and assassins, who had spent most of their lives honing their bodies into weapons for use for either good or evil.

But you? You were born with powers; your genes had been mutating naturally ever since you were in your mother's womb. There were no labs, no special training, no choices. It was just you, emerging with untamed powers cursing through your veins, marking you as someone superior to the humans.

In the same way you didn’t choose who to work with, you were too young to understand the wrong hands you had fallen into. You were a victim of your own father’s plans to rule the world, seeing you as both his cherished daughter and his precious weapon.

After years of being chained against your will, you became a free spirit, travelling the world and playing the role of the hero you'd never been, helping people and saving them from the clutches of enemies. No matter how strong or bizarre the villains were, whether they were dangerous aliens from another universe or little bullies tormenting the weak boy at school: you would be there, steady and vigilant, protecting every human in your sight. Whether this was your sudden calling, or simply a way to lift your shoulders from the burden of your past, orto keep your hands clean from the innocent blood spilled, was hard for you to know.

But as you listened to Congressman Barnes' voice - low and soft, which was how he usually spoke to you - rattle on about a crucial task for the New York citizens, you realised how high the stakes were.

He called it “impeachment”, a way to remove Valentina and her shady business away from the CIA and the government, and valid witnesses were still on the loose. Four former assassins who cleaned the mess the woman made, four valid testimonies that would make Val’s empire fall like a house of cards. Who better than you to know the best tactics to track down a group of former criminals and catch them?

A part of you wanted to refuse — you were “cleaned” from that shady business. And how could you ever work for the political machine that still had a price on your head, after being a former criminal yourself? The same twisted mechanism that drove a wall between you and Bucky? 

Yet, the shivers that ran down your spine when you heard Bucky's voice, the way his tongue rolled deliciously every time he called you 'doll', the pleading tone of his request, the puppy-dog steel-blue eyes that you could almost feel through the screen…it made it hard for you to decline.

And so there you were, stuck with your ex-boyfriend and a bunch of people you barely met less than 24 hours before, one of them lost into the darkness. 

Not the best situation to find yourself in the last moments of your life. 

“I’m going after her,” Ava said, breaking the silence as she marched quickly through the dark fog that continued to spread.

Bucky grabbed her arm with his vibranium hand, stopping her from carrying out her plan. “And then what?”

“If she walked there, she did it for a reason,” Ava answered quickly, nervously looking at the black fog spreading.

“What if she’s dead? What if there’s no coming back?” Bucky countered, the frustration and worry in his voice clear to hear. They had already lost Yelena, as well as many others who had fallen victim to Void’s actions. Deep down, he was regretful for not being the hero he wanted to be, and for letting down all the people who had applauded him just minutes before the disaster was unleashed.

It was a sight that reminded him of all the sleepless nights and looming nightmares, and of that damn little notebook with all those names marked in it, deluding him into believing he was absolved of sins he himself was not the main perpetrator of. 

Your heart ached to see him so defeated. So remorseful. 

"He's right, Ava," you said, standing up straight and joining the conversation. Your voice was still slightly breathless from the previous run. “Did we all see what happened to Yelena?” She was there with us, flesh and blood, with just a few scratches on her pretty face. And now? Puff! Vanished! Gone!” You grabbed your knees, allowing your lungs to catch as much air as they could before continuing. “Let’s get one thing straight. We lost. Just… how can we protect the people of this city if we aren’t able to defend ourselves? We can’t win against that thing. It’s over.”

A heavy silence fell over the group, and you almost cursed yourself for what you had said. Had they lifted the group's spirits? Of course not. 

“You know? You have many great qualities, but comforting people isn’t one of them” said Ava, breaking the silence once again. Her voice was decisive and carried a hint of disdain. Then, she faced Bucky again, her gaze sweeping over the city. “And about Yelena. What if she isn’t gone?”

“How do you know that?” Bucky replied, his voice a little lower as he resumed his argument with her. You turned your head to look for any human who had escaped the powers of the Void, and that was where your world stopped.

And Bucky's words were the last you heard.

Everything around you grew muffled and distant, as if you were sinking underwater. You could hear Walker muttering something to the team, but his words seemed to come from miles away. Alexei's voice was next, you were sure of it, but this time you couldn’t make out his exact words. A third voice called out to you - who was it this time? Ava? Bucky? You imagining Yelena’s witty comments over you? You couldn't tell - it sounded like distant echoes. 

You seemed gone, your mind disconnected from your body, travelling to another universe. But the truth was that something - or someone - caught your attention. 

Your gaze was drawn to a small figure in the distance, wriggling through the rubble, and the rest of the world faded away. You could hear and feel the child’s loud cries in your ears and in your heart. You could feel your eardrums ringing and your chest tightening in an uncomfortable vice. Next to the child was a woman who quickly scooped him up and ran as if her life depended on it. They were running away — or at least trying to — desperately seeking refuge to save themselves temporarily.

They were like the same civilians that you had tried to help before but failed to save, and who had now been sucked into the void. 

And suddenly your words ceased to make sense.

“We lost”, suddenly echoed in your head. “How can we protect the people of this city if we aren’t able to defend ourselves?” These words made you wrinkle your nose in disgust. How could you ever call yourself a hero when your mind was clouded by such pessimistic thoughts? Had you not sworn to protect the most vulnerable after leaving your brutal past behind?

The shame of your words gnawed at you, raw and relentless. Hearing the mother reassure her son, keeping her nerves steady despite the situation made you feel the urge to act again. They were a reminder of how hard they were still fighting. How they were still trying.

This gave you a new sense of hope. Maybe the war was far from over.

You quickly stood up, your hands trembling and adrenaline suddenly rushing through your veins as if your body had awoken from a paralysed state. Without thinking, you started running towards them, your mind filled with a new sense of purpose.

But your dreams of glory were cut short by a firm grasp on your arm and the coldness of metal beneath your leather tactical suit. You turned your gaze and saw Bucky watching you with a clenched jaw and a severe but worried look in his steel-blue eyes.

“Where do you think you're going, doll?” he asked in a low, gravelly voice, pulling you close with a firm grip. It was bruising, but not tight enough to cause pain.

“Let me go, Barnes!” you replied through clenched teeth, jerking your arm free. He loosened his grip and you stood facing each other while the rest of the group watched, ready to intervene if either of you lost your temper.

“There are still civilians out there who can be saved. I’ll go and keep them safe-”

“So what? Do you want to end up like Yelena? Disappearing inside that black thing and leaving no trace?” Bucky snapped at you, your sudden recklessness was the last thing he needed. There was no venom in his words, only concern and… Was it protectiveness what you felt?

“You've seen how devastated Alexei is. Do you think we can face another loss like that? Well, let me tell you something, doll. We can’t take another loss like that. I can’t bear the thought of losing you!”

You stared at him, stunned by his words. You noticed how his voice faltered when he said he couldn’t bear your absence, how his body trembled when he was overcome with anger and fear, and the apprehension lurking beneath his words. Suddenly, memories of your past together rushed wildly through your mind, making your breathing quicken and your heart hammer in your chest.

That was the Bucky you fell in love with. The damaged super soldier who struggled to find his place in the world. The man who would scream in the middle of the night, beads of sweat on his forehead, and you would rush to his side, cradling him in your arms and mentally curse Hydra for the damage they had done to him. The sweet, caring and overly protective man who would always watch your back on missions, check your wounds and kiss every inch of your bruised skin to ease the pain. The man who would not hesitate to sacrifice his life for you.

But that part of him died the moment he chose to run for Congress, hiding behind a cloak of righteousness that felt uncharacteristic. You could see it in the way he immersed himself in the country's twisted politics, pretending to read file after file and barely acknowledging your presence in the house. You could see it in the way he came home late and stressed from endless meetings, barely having time for you. And when you chose to run away and find your own place in the world? There were no messages, no missed calls and no attempt to trace you.

You became strangers. Never before had you considered going back to when life was easier for the two of you, when you would cuddle up together, feeling the ghost of his lips on yours.

No, there was no time to regret what had been. The lives of ordinary people were more important than a futile argument.

“James,” you called him, his real name felt strange on your tongue. “I saw a mother and child running through the streets, trying to find shelter. They can’t save themselves if we stand here mulling over what to do.”

You saw Bucky moving around nervously, his hands firmly on his hips and his gaze darting between the black fog and you. “You will fail like all the others we have saved before. Like we failed to keep Yelena with us. If they're not dead, they're stuck in that nightmare from which there's no escape."

“We don’t know if we don’t try!” you countered back, frustration rising in your voice as you heard the few people’s screams die behind you, making you more and more nervous.

“Oh, so Miss ‘We-Fail-Because-We-Suck’ feels guilty and decided to return to action?” Walker joined the conversation, a hint of mockery in his serious voice. 

“I don't need you to remind me of what I said before, Walker, thank you,”' you replied, annoyed. “Stay here and mutter all you want, but those two people outside are still our last hope, and I won’t be the one to let them down.”

You approached Bucky with slow and deliberate steps, your hand raised in an attempt to cup his cheek but you stopped mid air, afraid that he would not welcome your gesture. It was the intensity of his gaze that made you want to give up, but then your hand was on his cheek, gently rubbing his stubble. 

“I’ve seen that look of yours, James. Every damn time. You think it’s because of you why we’re all stuck here, you feel guilty because you brought us with you and see the failure of your actions in our eyes,” you spoke to him, low and soft, as if you were talking to a frightened child, “You have done more than enough. You couldn't have foreseen that this would happen. You have all played your part. Now it's my turn. Let me make things right for once in my life.”

You were about to turn and leave the group when you felt a sudden warmth anchor you in place — a firm, slightly trembling hand covering yours. Bucky's hand held yours with an intensity you hadn't felt in years. In that breathless instant, his steel-blue eyes met yours, no longer guarded or distant. Behind them was something burning and pleading, like a man standing at the edge of a cliff, desperate to be heard before the wind carried everything away.

“I won't allow you to sacrifice yourself, doll,” Bucky replied firmly, his voice contrasting with the anxiety he was feeling. Drawing on the last of your mental strength, you slipped your hand out of his.

“I'm not going to ask your permission,” you said, turning your back on him. Before his hands could reach you again, you were gone, like sand carried by the wind. 

The city opened up before you, revealing a surreal scene: the dusty streets were strewn with debris and parts of places had been destroyed amid the chaos that had unfolded. But it was the deafening silence that struck you the most, so atypical for such a huge, lively city.

In the distance, you could hear the soft, quick footsteps of the remaining survivors, the gradually fading noise of cars, and several thuds that echoed in the air — a sign that they had been sent into that darkness with no apparent escape.

You were now standing in an open field, easily navigating the debris as you scanned the area for the mother and son running away in the distance. Maintaining your focus, you pressed your palms against the boulders, which shattered into many small pieces as they fell softly to the ground. Dust swirled in the air as you moved forward with fluid, measured movements, turning over large boulders and clearing the way for the civilians still fleeing.

From a young age, you had the ability to manipulate matter and turn it into whatever you pleased. You first demonstrated this ability when you were with your mother at home. A soft crackling sound came from the ceiling, startling you both, but it wasn’t serious enough to cause any alarm. Then the crack spread further and splinters of wood began to fall to the ground. When you saw that the entire beam was about to collapse, something inside you snapped.

At first, it felt as if time had stopped and the wooden beams were gracefully floating above your head. Then, as if in response to an unspoken command, you could feel the air humming around you. The matter melted and reformed as the splintered wood bent and flowed like liquid silk. The newly formed jagged shards fell to the ground like a thousand needles.

Your father called this a blessing. You called it a curse.

As you grew up, you learned about the dangerous paths you could take with your abilities, and your father forced you to do things you would later regret. You reshaped walls, floors and ceilings whenever you needed to break in unnoticed; you turned a broken chair into a weapon whenever there was a fight; and you were quick to disarm enemy weapons. You could still remember how easily you turned an endowed rifle into a puddle of dark liquid, giving you an advantage in close encounters.

It wasn't just the objects that could be mutated; the enhancements to your powers also enabled you to reshape human molecular structures. At first, the changes were subtle – a quick realignment of a shoulder or cauterisation of a wound. Then, under your father’s command, you were pushed further and soon learned how to break and reform bone density, alter muscle tissue and dull pain receptors in others to force compliance or enhance physical performance. 

You couldn’t count how many people you'd fixed before breaking them in the most vicious ways, some of them not surviving at your powers. You wore their pleading eyes and cries of help as a second skin, and the helplessness in their eyes was the purpose that made you escape from a reality that had become suffocating, that brought you only regret and endless nightmares.

And you swore to keep this part of your life buried forever.

After looking around, your gaze finally fell upon two figures stumbling around on the ground, recognizing them as the mother and child you had seen with the group earlier. Behind them, the black blanket advanced threateningly. It would only take a few minutes before they, too, would become black silhouettes on the ground. 

Mustering all your remaining strength you moved hurriedly, your adrenaline winning over your aching legs. Clearing the path of debris, you were quick to reach the two people, swiftly reaching for their arms and helping them up, before turning and running in the opposite direction of the fog.

“Keep going and don’t look back!” you called out, your voice slightly hoarse from the fatigue, “I’m here. You’re safe with me.”

The woman blinked rapidly and placed her child safely at her side, a flicker of gratitude crossed her frightened gaze. This stirred something new inside you, filling your chest with a sense of contentment. You were used to people looking at you with fear and submission, as if you were a monster walking among them. But this woman thanked you silently with her eyes? It made you believe that you were finally doing something right in your life.

You took a deep breath before resuming your run. Controlling two bodies while sprinting through wreckage was no easy feat, but you didn’t let that deter you. Your resolve was hard to falter.

As you scanned the horizon, only one safe place emerged in your mind: the porch where the Thunderbolts were watching you - silent and still while holding their breath - the only place in the whole city untouched by the spreading darkness, the only place that could shelter two civilians before coming up with a plan to stop that madness.

You were both halfway through the run when you felt your lungs burning inside, the muscles in your body desperately pleading mercy - you felt the need to stop and give yourself some time. But you couldn’t, no. You won’t stop. 

This wasn’t about your endurance anymore. This was about safety.

And so you kept pushing harder with your legs, sprinting firmly but under control to prevent the people holding hands with you from falling during the path. Step by step, you could see the arch approaching on the horizon, and a sense of relief washed over you: you were almost there. One more little effort and your mission would be accomplished.

You could do this. You had to do this.

And then you felt it.

Thud.

A piercing, howling sound reached your ears, sending shivers down your spine. For a moment a part of you feels lighter, as if you were running faster. But it was when you turned back and checked the mother and child’s health that reality stuck at you as a loud smack in your face.

They were gone, turned into powdery silhouettes, stuck in the ground and sent who knows where.

The realisation hit you, fear crept into every bone in your body and, for a moment, you forgot how to breathe properly. Your body was completely spent after being pushed to its limit, and you felt your legs giving in, collapsing under your weight. 

The air felt heavy, your surroundings blurring into emptiness as every sound faded until complete silence was reached. But only one noise crept into your mind: an annoying little voice repeating a phrase that had been your mantra all your life.

You failed. 

The thought was sharp and cruel, gripping your heart like a vice and making you feel sick. 'You failed' repeated over and over again like a broken record, a merciless reminder that no matter how hard you tried to be a hero and do things right, you failed.

How could you protect the people of this city if you just kept getting them into trouble?

The dark fog continued to advance undisturbed, engulfing and reclaiming the mother and her son's shadows. The group's attempts to bring you back were in vain: shouting and inviting you to join them on the porch, you couldn’t hear them, too focused on the darkness reaching you. Soon, you would become part of that nothingness — a nothingness you thought belonged to you.

It was there that you raised your head, and you finally saw him clearly.

The Void.

The dark figure floated motionless in the air, looking at you with white spotlights that seemed to peer into your soul. You didn’t see his lips curl into a mocking smile, nor did you feel the judgement leaving his mouth – if you could have seen it – instead, he just looked at you as if waiting for your next move. 

He tilted his head slightly before finally speaking up. His voice was deep, and its measured pace reflected the weight of her words, which hung in the air like an approaching storm.

“Is that why you're so sad? We're all alone. Hopeless. Without redemption.”

And you never felt so understood in your life.

You were used and abused countless times, your mind bent by the will of people who wanted to use your powers for ulterior motives, and you were too young and scared to break free. 

By the time you realised what they had turned you into, it was too late. You looked in the mirror and didn’t recognise yourself: not your face, not your eyes, and certainly not your hands. Hands that you had washed almost maniacally every day, watching the water turn red in your eyes when it was actually crystal clear. You couldn’t find comfort in the silence; only the cries of men and women begging you to stop torturing them and leave them alone filled your ears. It was all too much for you to bear. How many of them had families who would never see them again? The same happy family that was ripped away from you when you were just a child, a victim of your father’s ambitions?

You thought Bucky could be your beacon in the storm. Hell, that man’s life was a horror story, and he could empathise with your sins and past mistakes. But you were too afraid to tell him about your past, afraid that he would turn you away after learning that you had committed crimes possibly worse than his own. Now your paths were divided by an invisible wall, and you had never felt so alone. 

Nothingness is all you have left.

Acting on impulse, you stood up and marched silently towards the dark fog. There was no wavering in your actions, no second thoughts. 

The Void was calling you, and you were eager to answer its call.

You heard someone -  a very familiar voice - shout at you to turn around. But this didn’t stop your silent march; your body moved towards the dark needles approaching you as if on autopilot.

All you had to do was take a step, and all your pain and remorse would disappear with you.

While hearing a muffled, raw, broken scream, your foot stepped onto the black ground.

And your body moulded into the darkness.

Bucky felt as if his world had collapsed in on itself. Destroyed, disintegrated in the same way his own body had turned to dust years ago when Thanos claimed half of the population's lives by snapping his fingers.

This time, however, the Avengers would not be there to save the day. No one would build a time machine and retrieve six powerful stones, nor would anyone snap their fingers and bring back all the people swallowed by the void.

You were gone, just like Yelena. Just like everyone else.

His mind short-circuited, the guilt of not being able to save New York’s people mingled with the regret of not being able to stop you and your selfless actions. Countless images and what-ifs crossed his thoughts — what if he had followed you and pulled you away sooner? What if he had been more insistent and said no? What if he had been strong enough to counter your stubbornness, to hold you in his arms and never let you go again? 

But there were no answers in the echoes of what-ifs. Only silence.

Unlike his former self, Bucky was never one for many words. His time in the clutches of Hydra was enough to break his spirit, strip him of his confidence, and rob him of his cheerfulness. All that remained were the emotional scars that would never fade. He became a shell of his former self: a grumpy, introverted 110-year-old man who believed that pain was an inevitable part of life and was more inclined to expect negative things than positive ones.

Since being released, he had spent most of his days trying to make amends and find a way to redeem himself. He would sit in the eerie quietness of his apartment, muttering about a past that still haunted him, and about the ghosts of all the people he had murdered and who came to visit him in his sleep. Then he would wake up with short, frantic gasps, his gaze fixed on an empty spot, while the sound of the television in the background tried — in vain — to calm his racing heart. 

Bucky slipped into a daily routine that he struggled to adjust to: mandatory therapy sessions in the morning, undertaken more out of a sense of duty than for relief; solo missions throughout the day to erase the names of people on his list who wanted closure. Loneliness in the evening and nightmares at night. Each day was the same as the previous one, and the day after that would be the same again.

But you? You were the one who shattered his monotonous routine.

You slipped quietly into Bucky's life and became the spark that ignited it. Despite the aura of mystery that wrapped you like a veil, you gave him a sense of purpose, helping him to break free from his endless cycle of pain and self-loathing. With you, he rediscovered the meaning of love and being loved. His fear of being touched melted away beneath the warmth and delicacy of your touch. His body trembled and demanded more, his flesh burned under your fingerprints. Whenever he felt insecure, you would remind him that every part of him was perfect, kissing and adoring the scars on the joint of his metal shoulder — the part of him he disliked the most, but which you were immediately drawn to. 

But your love was not enough to appease his desire to help others and redeem his past, and when the world of politics opened up, something between you cracked. Soft whispers of love turned into heated arguments and nights curled up in bed together became a distant memory. You grew further and further apart until you disappeared without trace. 

In the silence of his feigned apathy, Bucky’s heart was breaking; your distance was far worse than the torture inflicted by Zola and his men. Relief filled his chest when you agreed to help him, albeit reluctantly, and part of him promised that, once Valentina was out of the picture, he would take you in his arms and kiss every inch of your face, murmuring endless apologies against your skin. His arms would wrap around your waist as he promised that he would never push you away again, in the hope that you would both have the restart you deserve.

But now The Void had taken you, trapping you in his dark fog, and with you, every possibility of reconciliation had disappeared.

Bucky could feel his legs trembling beneath him. If it were not for Alexei’s strong arms supporting him, he would have fallen to the ground. The group stood in silence, watching as Bucky’s face contorted with desperation and misery. His blue eyes were glassy and devoid of light, and his mouth moved involuntarily, whispering apologies that could not be heard. It was a sign that he had given up, that all your efforts to stop Bob were in vain, and that giving him the whole city was the only solution to this never-ending puzzle.

Just when he felt he had hit rock bottom, a glimmer of hope took him by surprise. His head turned slightly towards the darkness, and he was struck by a sudden epiphany. 

His mind darted back to the conversation he had had with the Thunderbolts just minutes earlier, before your stubbornness had won out over your rational thinking and led you to your suicide plan. He remembered how Walker had approached him and Ava, admitting that she was right and that there was indeed something lurking in the darkness. The former Captain America recalled the dread he had felt after touching Bob, reliving for a bit the period in his life when everything had fallen apart, when he had failed both as a father and a husband.

A part of him was partially relieved that this could not be the end, that somehow you and Yelena could be saved. It was the reviving of the past that frightened him, more yours than his. Bucky had always been unaware of your history, having confessed at your behest your despondency at reliving certain stages of your life. He feared what you might be forced to witness and how you would change after returning to him. How broken you would be. 

With a newfound strength Bucky stood up, his gaze resting on the dark fog, which had almost engulfed most of the city.

“She must be trapped somewhere there,” Bucky muttered with his jaw clenched, drawing the group's attention. “I have to get her out of there.”

Ava was the first to respond, almost nodding in agreement with his idea. “Thank you,” she said. “Someone who supports my plan!”

“So, what’s the plan? We go in, find Yelena and our mutant friend, and then what?” Walker mused, his hands placed on his lips. He watched Bucky moving his first steps, almost leaving the porch and facing the fog alone.

“Stay there. I’m going to drag her out of this and we’ll be back,” he growled, his eyes flaring with anger and determination: your safety was his priority. 

“What!?” echoed Ava and Walker together, their faces contorted in dismay at the former Winter Soldier’s sudden declaration. 

“Hey, hey, slow down a bit” Alexei interrupted, wrapping his strong hand around Bucky’s vibranium shoulder and forcing the ex-assassin to turn and look at him. “I know you’re the mighty Winter Soldier, and you’re cool enough to be unstoppable and kick everyone’s ass along the way. But you can’t face this alone. We must stick together as the Thunderbolts!”

Bucky looked down and his jaw tightened as he absorbed the Red Guardian’s words. Although temporarily blinded by his protective instincts towards you, he had to admit that Alexei was right. He could not face the threat alone if the enemy had expanded their powers on a large scale. 

He closed his eyelids, inhaling deeply before resting his gaze on the remaining team, looking at them with a solemn expression.

“We'll go there together, then. Try to find Yelena once you’re inside. I’m going to find my girlfriend, and then we’ll manage to meet up together. Is all that clear?” he said solemnly, the word “girlfriend” still spilling easily from his mouth despite your relationship having ended years ago.

At first, silence was their answer. The group quickly exchanged glances, as if looking for implicit confirmation from each other. Then, after moments that seemed like an eternity, the three looked at Bucky, approving his plan as a new sense of hope lifted the group’s spirit. 

Walker turned his gaze towards the dark hole and took the first steps towards it. “Try not to get stuck there, Bucky,” he said dryly, the super soldier’s faint smirk was his only answer.

“Let’s go, Thunderbolts!” Alexei roared in support, his spirits lifted again by the slightly increased possibility of seeing Yelena alive.

All four of them entered the ghostly city, the fresh air of New York caressing their skin for the last time before darkness consumed them. Ava was the first to step inside, her body being claimed as soon as her feet touched the black ground. Walker and Alexei followed, marching with no hesitation as their bodies turned into shadows and were claimed by the darkness.

When it was Bucky’s turn, he hesitated at first. He stood still and watched the dark needles advance quickly, covering the shadows of his friends and then going to claim him.

He lifted his gaze slightly, looking into the heart of the darkness. Countless images of his past flashed before his eyes and his spirit was weakened by the thought of reliving a past that he had spent his whole life trying to redeem, wearing its scars like a second skin.

But he remembered the purpose of his actions, and a new wave of determination pushed him into action. He would rewatch his torture and brainwashing, he would fight his former self as the Winter Soldier, he would never let the souls of the people he had tortured and brainwashed leave him, haunting him with their desperate cries and laughing at him every time he woke up trembling on the floor after another nightmare. 

If walking back from that darkness meant pulling you out from there, then no trauma would be able to stop him from reaching his purpose. 

Bucky took a deep breath before continuing his advance, his feet almost touching the black floor as he entered the tunnel.

And after taking the last step, his world went black.

If you've come this far, thank you so much for reading my fic! Hope you enjoyed it! Please, leave a comment if you want to be added in the taglist or be removed.7

Bucky Barnes Taglist: @volklana @sylasthegrim @watermeezer

[thenameswinterfics]

BETWEEN DARK AND THE VOID

Chapter 1 - L'Appel Du Vide

Header by me | Dividers by @emmanexelle | 18+ banner by @inklore

READ IT ON AO3

Pairing: Thunderbolts!Bucky Barnes x MutantFemale!Reader Setting: Thunderbolts* Summary: Reluctantly, after a call you accept to help Bucky, your ex-boyfriend, with a task. What should have been a simple impeachment becomes a New York rescue mission, swallowed by a mysterious dark fog. After failing to save two innocent people, and overwhelmed by guilt from your dark past, you answer the call of The Void and abandon yourself to the uncertainty of nothingness. It's up to Bucky to save you and bring you back. Word Count: 6.2 K Chapter Warnings: Thunderbolts* spoilers, Reader is a mutant with the molecular reconfiguration powers, angst, hurt, mention of past trauma, typical canon violence, mention of torture (not described), Reader being mean at first, protective Bucky, no use of y/n. If I have missed some CW, please let me know and I'll add them!

AN: I'm back, this time for real! I never thought that a Marvel movie and my old obsession with Bucky Barnes would bring the writing muses back to me. This is the first fic after some months of writing's block, so apologize if it's not perfect. Many thanks to my wife @sylasthegrim for helping me with the title and to my love @bcksbarnes for beta reading, brainstorming through the fic outline, being my cheerleader and simply bear with me. You're the best, I love you with all my heart! I highly expect this to flop, so thank you for the few ones who will read it.

ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE. I APOLOGISE IN ADVANCE FOR MY GRAMMAR AND VOCABULARY MISTAKES.

BUCKY BARNES MASTERLIST | BETWEEN DARK AND THE VOID MASTERLIST

Appel du vide: "The call of the void". French term that explains an urge to do something dangerous even though you don’t intend to.

The streets of New York had never been so dark.

The skyscrapers that once towered over the city, imposing and gleaming, now disappeared into a veil of darkness, their figures swallowed up in an ominous embrace. Even cars and people seemed to suffer the same fate, falling into a dark hole that slowly, but dangerously, spread through the streets; swallowing everything in its path.

Above this dark fog, Void stood, now in full control of Bob, watching the chaos unfold beneath his feet, not blinking at the high-pitched screams of people running for safety. As he stood, like a god descending to earth to judge mankind, he slowly raised a hand, transforming people into powdery silhouettes stuck to the ground, soon to be moulded by the impending darkness as it moved swiftly towards the crowd.

It was like the scene of one of the most terrifying horror films: planes crashing next to buildings, piles of rubble falling from the sky and destroying everything in sight, cries of children looking for their parents. People ran with every ounce of strength they had left to escape this dark nightmare that was spreading across the city like a living shadow, swallowing up hope, light and every trace of normal life in its relentless path.

But this was the reality. And nothing would seem willing to stop this madness.

You paused under a porch with the rest of the Thunderbolts, your cheeks flushed as you placed your palm against the cold plaster of the wall, your chest rising and falling at a fast pace. You could hear Bucky muttering a few words as he watched the city go pitch black, Walker holding an unstable Alexei, ranting about losing Yelena and not forgiving himself. Ava was the only one silent, pondering her next move, and you were glad that your powers did not allow you to read people's minds, or you would go mad between your own thoughts and those of others.

You knew something was wrong the moment Bucky called you after months of silence; given the strained relations between you two, you were even surprised that the former Hydra assassin - now Brooklyn Congressman - had the time to dial your number and ask for your support with a mission.

You were different from the other heroes and villains who lived among humans — there was something deep and unpredictable in your genetics that set you apart. Most of them chose to become one voluntarily, undergoing genetic experiments to enhance their physical abilities. Others were tech geniuses who compensated for their lack of physical strength with their intellect, building armour and other technical equipment to support civilians. Then there were those who were simply highly trained agents and assassins, who had spent most of their lives honing their bodies into weapons for use for either good or evil.

But you? You were born with powers; your genes had been mutating naturally ever since you were in your mother's womb. There were no labs, no special training, no choices. It was just you, emerging with untamed powers cursing through your veins, marking you as someone superior to the humans.

In the same way you didn’t choose who to work with, you were too young to understand the wrong hands you had fallen into. You were a victim of your own father’s plans to rule the world, seeing you as both his cherished daughter and his precious weapon.

After years of being chained against your will, you became a free spirit, travelling the world and playing the role of the hero you'd never been, helping people and saving them from the clutches of enemies. No matter how strong or bizarre the villains were, whether they were dangerous aliens from another universe or little bullies tormenting the weak boy at school: you would be there, steady and vigilant, protecting every human in your sight. Whether this was your sudden calling, or simply a way to lift your shoulders from the burden of your past, orto keep your hands clean from the innocent blood spilled, was hard for you to know.

But as you listened to Congressman Barnes' voice - low and soft, which was how he usually spoke to you - rattle on about a crucial task for the New York citizens, you realised how high the stakes were.

He called it “impeachment”, a way to remove Valentina and her shady business away from the CIA and the government, and valid witnesses were still on the loose. Four former assassins who cleaned the mess the woman made, four valid testimonies that would make Val’s empire fall like a house of cards. Who better than you to know the best tactics to track down a group of former criminals and catch them?

A part of you wanted to refuse — you were “cleaned” from that shady business. And how could you ever work for the political machine that still had a price on your head, after being a former criminal yourself? The same twisted mechanism that drove a wall between you and Bucky? 

Yet, the shivers that ran down your spine when you heard Bucky's voice, the way his tongue rolled deliciously every time he called you 'doll', the pleading tone of his request, the puppy-dog steel-blue eyes that you could almost feel through the screen…it made it hard for you to decline.

And so there you were, stuck with your ex-boyfriend and a bunch of people you barely met less than 24 hours before, one of them lost into the darkness. 

Not the best situation to find yourself in the last moments of your life. 

“I’m going after her,” Ava said, breaking the silence as she marched quickly through the dark fog that continued to spread.

Bucky grabbed her arm with his vibranium hand, stopping her from carrying out her plan. “And then what?”

“If she walked there, she did it for a reason,” Ava answered quickly, nervously looking at the black fog spreading.

“What if she’s dead? What if there’s no coming back?” Bucky countered, the frustration and worry in his voice clear to hear. They had already lost Yelena, as well as many others who had fallen victim to Void’s actions. Deep down, he was regretful for not being the hero he wanted to be, and for letting down all the people who had applauded him just minutes before the disaster was unleashed.

It was a sight that reminded him of all the sleepless nights and looming nightmares, and of that damn little notebook with all those names marked in it, deluding him into believing he was absolved of sins he himself was not the main perpetrator of. 

Your heart ached to see him so defeated. So remorseful. 

"He's right, Ava," you said, standing up straight and joining the conversation. Your voice was still slightly breathless from the previous run. “Did we all see what happened to Yelena?” She was there with us, flesh and blood, with just a few scratches on her pretty face. And now? Puff! Vanished! Gone!” You grabbed your knees, allowing your lungs to catch as much air as they could before continuing. “Let’s get one thing straight. We lost. Just… how can we protect the people of this city if we aren’t able to defend ourselves? We can’t win against that thing. It’s over.”

A heavy silence fell over the group, and you almost cursed yourself for what you had said. Had they lifted the group's spirits? Of course not. 

“You know? You have many great qualities, but comforting people isn’t one of them” said Ava, breaking the silence once again. Her voice was decisive and carried a hint of disdain. Then, she faced Bucky again, her gaze sweeping over the city. “And about Yelena. What if she isn’t gone?”

“How do you know that?” Bucky replied, his voice a little lower as he resumed his argument with her. You turned your head to look for any human who had escaped the powers of the Void, and that was where your world stopped.

And Bucky's words were the last you heard.

Everything around you grew muffled and distant, as if you were sinking underwater. You could hear Walker muttering something to the team, but his words seemed to come from miles away. Alexei's voice was next, you were sure of it, but this time you couldn’t make out his exact words. A third voice called out to you - who was it this time? Ava? Bucky? You imagining Yelena’s witty comments over you? You couldn't tell - it sounded like distant echoes. 

You seemed gone, your mind disconnected from your body, travelling to another universe. But the truth was that something - or someone - caught your attention. 

Your gaze was drawn to a small figure in the distance, wriggling through the rubble, and the rest of the world faded away. You could hear and feel the child’s loud cries in your ears and in your heart. You could feel your eardrums ringing and your chest tightening in an uncomfortable vice. Next to the child was a woman who quickly scooped him up and ran as if her life depended on it. They were running away — or at least trying to — desperately seeking refuge to save themselves temporarily.

They were like the same civilians that you had tried to help before but failed to save, and who had now been sucked into the void. 

And suddenly your words ceased to make sense.

“We lost”, suddenly echoed in your head. “How can we protect the people of this city if we aren’t able to defend ourselves?” These words made you wrinkle your nose in disgust. How could you ever call yourself a hero when your mind was clouded by such pessimistic thoughts? Had you not sworn to protect the most vulnerable after leaving your brutal past behind?

The shame of your words gnawed at you, raw and relentless. Hearing the mother reassure her son, keeping her nerves steady despite the situation made you feel the urge to act again. They were a reminder of how hard they were still fighting. How they were still trying.

This gave you a new sense of hope. Maybe the war was far from over.

You quickly stood up, your hands trembling and adrenaline suddenly rushing through your veins as if your body had awoken from a paralysed state. Without thinking, you started running towards them, your mind filled with a new sense of purpose.

But your dreams of glory were cut short by a firm grasp on your arm and the coldness of metal beneath your leather tactical suit. You turned your gaze and saw Bucky watching you with a clenched jaw and a severe but worried look in his steel-blue eyes.

“Where do you think you're going, doll?” he asked in a low, gravelly voice, pulling you close with a firm grip. It was bruising, but not tight enough to cause pain.

“Let me go, Barnes!” you replied through clenched teeth, jerking your arm free. He loosened his grip and you stood facing each other while the rest of the group watched, ready to intervene if either of you lost your temper.

“There are still civilians out there who can be saved. I’ll go and keep them safe-”

“So what? Do you want to end up like Yelena? Disappearing inside that black thing and leaving no trace?” Bucky snapped at you, your sudden recklessness was the last thing he needed. There was no venom in his words, only concern and… Was it protectiveness what you felt?

“You've seen how devastated Alexei is. Do you think we can face another loss like that? Well, let me tell you something, doll. We can’t take another loss like that. I can’t bear the thought of losing you!”

You stared at him, stunned by his words. You noticed how his voice faltered when he said he couldn’t bear your absence, how his body trembled when he was overcome with anger and fear, and the apprehension lurking beneath his words. Suddenly, memories of your past together rushed wildly through your mind, making your breathing quicken and your heart hammer in your chest.

That was the Bucky you fell in love with. The damaged super soldier who struggled to find his place in the world. The man who would scream in the middle of the night, beads of sweat on his forehead, and you would rush to his side, cradling him in your arms and mentally curse Hydra for the damage they had done to him. The sweet, caring and overly protective man who would always watch your back on missions, check your wounds and kiss every inch of your bruised skin to ease the pain. The man who would not hesitate to sacrifice his life for you.

But that part of him died the moment he chose to run for Congress, hiding behind a cloak of righteousness that felt uncharacteristic. You could see it in the way he immersed himself in the country's twisted politics, pretending to read file after file and barely acknowledging your presence in the house. You could see it in the way he came home late and stressed from endless meetings, barely having time for you. And when you chose to run away and find your own place in the world? There were no messages, no missed calls and no attempt to trace you.

You became strangers. Never before had you considered going back to when life was easier for the two of you, when you would cuddle up together, feeling the ghost of his lips on yours.

No, there was no time to regret what had been. The lives of ordinary people were more important than a futile argument.

“James,” you called him, his real name felt strange on your tongue. “I saw a mother and child running through the streets, trying to find shelter. They can’t save themselves if we stand here mulling over what to do.”

You saw Bucky moving around nervously, his hands firmly on his hips and his gaze darting between the black fog and you. “You will fail like all the others we have saved before. Like we failed to keep Yelena with us. If they're not dead, they're stuck in that nightmare from which there's no escape."

“We don’t know if we don’t try!” you countered back, frustration rising in your voice as you heard the few people’s screams die behind you, making you more and more nervous.

“Oh, so Miss ‘We-Fail-Because-We-Suck’ feels guilty and decided to return to action?” Walker joined the conversation, a hint of mockery in his serious voice. 

“I don't need you to remind me of what I said before, Walker, thank you,”' you replied, annoyed. “Stay here and mutter all you want, but those two people outside are still our last hope, and I won’t be the one to let them down.”

You approached Bucky with slow and deliberate steps, your hand raised in an attempt to cup his cheek but you stopped mid air, afraid that he would not welcome your gesture. It was the intensity of his gaze that made you want to give up, but then your hand was on his cheek, gently rubbing his stubble. 

“I’ve seen that look of yours, James. Every damn time. You think it’s because of you why we’re all stuck here, you feel guilty because you brought us with you and see the failure of your actions in our eyes,” you spoke to him, low and soft, as if you were talking to a frightened child, “You have done more than enough. You couldn't have foreseen that this would happen. You have all played your part. Now it's my turn. Let me make things right for once in my life.”

You were about to turn and leave the group when you felt a sudden warmth anchor you in place — a firm, slightly trembling hand covering yours. Bucky's hand held yours with an intensity you hadn't felt in years. In that breathless instant, his steel-blue eyes met yours, no longer guarded or distant. Behind them was something burning and pleading, like a man standing at the edge of a cliff, desperate to be heard before the wind carried everything away.

“I won't allow you to sacrifice yourself, doll,” Bucky replied firmly, his voice contrasting with the anxiety he was feeling. Drawing on the last of your mental strength, you slipped your hand out of his.

“I'm not going to ask your permission,” you said, turning your back on him. Before his hands could reach you again, you were gone, like sand carried by the wind. 

The city opened up before you, revealing a surreal scene: the dusty streets were strewn with debris and parts of places had been destroyed amid the chaos that had unfolded. But it was the deafening silence that struck you the most, so atypical for such a huge, lively city.

In the distance, you could hear the soft, quick footsteps of the remaining survivors, the gradually fading noise of cars, and several thuds that echoed in the air — a sign that they had been sent into that darkness with no apparent escape.

You were now standing in an open field, easily navigating the debris as you scanned the area for the mother and son running away in the distance. Maintaining your focus, you pressed your palms against the boulders, which shattered into many small pieces as they fell softly to the ground. Dust swirled in the air as you moved forward with fluid, measured movements, turning over large boulders and clearing the way for the civilians still fleeing.

From a young age, you had the ability to manipulate matter and turn it into whatever you pleased. You first demonstrated this ability when you were with your mother at home. A soft crackling sound came from the ceiling, startling you both, but it wasn’t serious enough to cause any alarm. Then the crack spread further and splinters of wood began to fall to the ground. When you saw that the entire beam was about to collapse, something inside you snapped.

At first, it felt as if time had stopped and the wooden beams were gracefully floating above your head. Then, as if in response to an unspoken command, you could feel the air humming around you. The matter melted and reformed as the splintered wood bent and flowed like liquid silk. The newly formed jagged shards fell to the ground like a thousand needles.

Your father called this a blessing. You called it a curse.

As you grew up, you learned about the dangerous paths you could take with your abilities, and your father forced you to do things you would later regret. You reshaped walls, floors and ceilings whenever you needed to break in unnoticed; you turned a broken chair into a weapon whenever there was a fight; and you were quick to disarm enemy weapons. You could still remember how easily you turned an endowed rifle into a puddle of dark liquid, giving you an advantage in close encounters.

It wasn't just the objects that could be mutated; the enhancements to your powers also enabled you to reshape human molecular structures. At first, the changes were subtle – a quick realignment of a shoulder or cauterisation of a wound. Then, under your father’s command, you were pushed further and soon learned how to break and reform bone density, alter muscle tissue and dull pain receptors in others to force compliance or enhance physical performance. 

You couldn’t count how many people you'd fixed before breaking them in the most vicious ways, some of them not surviving at your powers. You wore their pleading eyes and cries of help as a second skin, and the helplessness in their eyes was the purpose that made you escape from a reality that had become suffocating, that brought you only regret and endless nightmares.

And you swore to keep this part of your life buried forever.

After looking around, your gaze finally fell upon two figures stumbling around on the ground, recognizing them as the mother and child you had seen with the group earlier. Behind them, the black blanket advanced threateningly. It would only take a few minutes before they, too, would become black silhouettes on the ground. 

Mustering all your remaining strength you moved hurriedly, your adrenaline winning over your aching legs. Clearing the path of debris, you were quick to reach the two people, swiftly reaching for their arms and helping them up, before turning and running in the opposite direction of the fog.

“Keep going and don’t look back!” you called out, your voice slightly hoarse from the fatigue, “I’m here. You’re safe with me.”

The woman blinked rapidly and placed her child safely at her side, a flicker of gratitude crossed her frightened gaze. This stirred something new inside you, filling your chest with a sense of contentment. You were used to people looking at you with fear and submission, as if you were a monster walking among them. But this woman thanked you silently with her eyes? It made you believe that you were finally doing something right in your life.

You took a deep breath before resuming your run. Controlling two bodies while sprinting through wreckage was no easy feat, but you didn’t let that deter you. Your resolve was hard to falter.

As you scanned the horizon, only one safe place emerged in your mind: the porch where the Thunderbolts were watching you - silent and still while holding their breath - the only place in the whole city untouched by the spreading darkness, the only place that could shelter two civilians before coming up with a plan to stop that madness.

You were both halfway through the run when you felt your lungs burning inside, the muscles in your body desperately pleading mercy - you felt the need to stop and give yourself some time. But you couldn’t, no. You won’t stop. 

This wasn’t about your endurance anymore. This was about safety.

And so you kept pushing harder with your legs, sprinting firmly but under control to prevent the people holding hands with you from falling during the path. Step by step, you could see the arch approaching on the horizon, and a sense of relief washed over you: you were almost there. One more little effort and your mission would be accomplished.

You could do this. You had to do this.

And then you felt it.

Thud.

A piercing, howling sound reached your ears, sending shivers down your spine. For a moment a part of you feels lighter, as if you were running faster. But it was when you turned back and checked the mother and child’s health that reality stuck at you as a loud smack in your face.

They were gone, turned into powdery silhouettes, stuck in the ground and sent who knows where.

The realisation hit you, fear crept into every bone in your body and, for a moment, you forgot how to breathe properly. Your body was completely spent after being pushed to its limit, and you felt your legs giving in, collapsing under your weight. 

The air felt heavy, your surroundings blurring into emptiness as every sound faded until complete silence was reached. But only one noise crept into your mind: an annoying little voice repeating a phrase that had been your mantra all your life.

You failed. 

The thought was sharp and cruel, gripping your heart like a vice and making you feel sick. 'You failed' repeated over and over again like a broken record, a merciless reminder that no matter how hard you tried to be a hero and do things right, you failed.

How could you protect the people of this city if you just kept getting them into trouble?

The dark fog continued to advance undisturbed, engulfing and reclaiming the mother and her son's shadows. The group's attempts to bring you back were in vain: shouting and inviting you to join them on the porch, you couldn’t hear them, too focused on the darkness reaching you. Soon, you would become part of that nothingness — a nothingness you thought belonged to you.

It was there that you raised your head, and you finally saw him clearly.

The Void.

The dark figure floated motionless in the air, looking at you with white spotlights that seemed to peer into your soul. You didn’t see his lips curl into a mocking smile, nor did you feel the judgement leaving his mouth – if you could have seen it – instead, he just looked at you as if waiting for your next move. 

He tilted his head slightly before finally speaking up. His voice was deep, and its measured pace reflected the weight of her words, which hung in the air like an approaching storm.

“Is that why you're so sad? We're all alone. Hopeless. Without redemption.”

And you never felt so understood in your life.

You were used and abused countless times, your mind bent by the will of people who wanted to use your powers for ulterior motives, and you were too young and scared to break free. 

By the time you realised what they had turned you into, it was too late. You looked in the mirror and didn’t recognise yourself: not your face, not your eyes, and certainly not your hands. Hands that you had washed almost maniacally every day, watching the water turn red in your eyes when it was actually crystal clear. You couldn’t find comfort in the silence; only the cries of men and women begging you to stop torturing them and leave them alone filled your ears. It was all too much for you to bear. How many of them had families who would never see them again? The same happy family that was ripped away from you when you were just a child, a victim of your father’s ambitions?

You thought Bucky could be your beacon in the storm. Hell, that man’s life was a horror story, and he could empathise with your sins and past mistakes. But you were too afraid to tell him about your past, afraid that he would turn you away after learning that you had committed crimes possibly worse than his own. Now your paths were divided by an invisible wall, and you had never felt so alone. 

Nothingness is all you have left.

Acting on impulse, you stood up and marched silently towards the dark fog. There was no wavering in your actions, no second thoughts. 

The Void was calling you, and you were eager to answer its call.

You heard someone -  a very familiar voice - shout at you to turn around. But this didn’t stop your silent march; your body moved towards the dark needles approaching you as if on autopilot.

All you had to do was take a step, and all your pain and remorse would disappear with you.

While hearing a muffled, raw, broken scream, your foot stepped onto the black ground.

And your body moulded into the darkness.

Bucky felt as if his world had collapsed in on itself. Destroyed, disintegrated in the same way his own body had turned to dust years ago when Thanos claimed half of the population's lives by snapping his fingers.

This time, however, the Avengers would not be there to save the day. No one would build a time machine and retrieve six powerful stones, nor would anyone snap their fingers and bring back all the people swallowed by the void.

You were gone, just like Yelena. Just like everyone else.

His mind short-circuited, the guilt of not being able to save New York’s people mingled with the regret of not being able to stop you and your selfless actions. Countless images and what-ifs crossed his thoughts — what if he had followed you and pulled you away sooner? What if he had been more insistent and said no? What if he had been strong enough to counter your stubbornness, to hold you in his arms and never let you go again? 

But there were no answers in the echoes of what-ifs. Only silence.

Unlike his former self, Bucky was never one for many words. His time in the clutches of Hydra was enough to break his spirit, strip him of his confidence, and rob him of his cheerfulness. All that remained were the emotional scars that would never fade. He became a shell of his former self: a grumpy, introverted 110-year-old man who believed that pain was an inevitable part of life and was more inclined to expect negative things than positive ones.

Since being released, he had spent most of his days trying to make amends and find a way to redeem himself. He would sit in the eerie quietness of his apartment, muttering about a past that still haunted him, and about the ghosts of all the people he had murdered and who came to visit him in his sleep. Then he would wake up with short, frantic gasps, his gaze fixed on an empty spot, while the sound of the television in the background tried — in vain — to calm his racing heart. 

Bucky slipped into a daily routine that he struggled to adjust to: mandatory therapy sessions in the morning, undertaken more out of a sense of duty than for relief; solo missions throughout the day to erase the names of people on his list who wanted closure. Loneliness in the evening and nightmares at night. Each day was the same as the previous one, and the day after that would be the same again.

But you? You were the one who shattered his monotonous routine.

You slipped quietly into Bucky's life and became the spark that ignited it. Despite the aura of mystery that wrapped you like a veil, you gave him a sense of purpose, helping him to break free from his endless cycle of pain and self-loathing. With you, he rediscovered the meaning of love and being loved. His fear of being touched melted away beneath the warmth and delicacy of your touch. His body trembled and demanded more, his flesh burned under your fingerprints. Whenever he felt insecure, you would remind him that every part of him was perfect, kissing and adoring the scars on the joint of his metal shoulder — the part of him he disliked the most, but which you were immediately drawn to. 

But your love was not enough to appease his desire to help others and redeem his past, and when the world of politics opened up, something between you cracked. Soft whispers of love turned into heated arguments and nights curled up in bed together became a distant memory. You grew further and further apart until you disappeared without trace. 

In the silence of his feigned apathy, Bucky’s heart was breaking; your distance was far worse than the torture inflicted by Zola and his men. Relief filled his chest when you agreed to help him, albeit reluctantly, and part of him promised that, once Valentina was out of the picture, he would take you in his arms and kiss every inch of your face, murmuring endless apologies against your skin. His arms would wrap around your waist as he promised that he would never push you away again, in the hope that you would both have the restart you deserve.

But now The Void had taken you, trapping you in his dark fog, and with you, every possibility of reconciliation had disappeared.

Bucky could feel his legs trembling beneath him. If it were not for Alexei’s strong arms supporting him, he would have fallen to the ground. The group stood in silence, watching as Bucky’s face contorted with desperation and misery. His blue eyes were glassy and devoid of light, and his mouth moved involuntarily, whispering apologies that could not be heard. It was a sign that he had given up, that all your efforts to stop Bob were in vain, and that giving him the whole city was the only solution to this never-ending puzzle.

Just when he felt he had hit rock bottom, a glimmer of hope took him by surprise. His head turned slightly towards the darkness, and he was struck by a sudden epiphany. 

His mind darted back to the conversation he had had with the Thunderbolts just minutes earlier, before your stubbornness had won out over your rational thinking and led you to your suicide plan. He remembered how Walker had approached him and Ava, admitting that she was right and that there was indeed something lurking in the darkness. The former Captain America recalled the dread he had felt after touching Bob, reliving for a bit the period in his life when everything had fallen apart, when he had failed both as a father and a husband.

A part of him was partially relieved that this could not be the end, that somehow you and Yelena could be saved. It was the reviving of the past that frightened him, more yours than his. Bucky had always been unaware of your history, having confessed at your behest your despondency at reliving certain stages of your life. He feared what you might be forced to witness and how you would change after returning to him. How broken you would be. 

With a newfound strength Bucky stood up, his gaze resting on the dark fog, which had almost engulfed most of the city.

“She must be trapped somewhere there,” Bucky muttered with his jaw clenched, drawing the group's attention. “I have to get her out of there.”

Ava was the first to respond, almost nodding in agreement with his idea. “Thank you,” she said. “Someone who supports my plan!”

“So, what’s the plan? We go in, find Yelena and our mutant friend, and then what?” Walker mused, his hands placed on his lips. He watched Bucky moving his first steps, almost leaving the porch and facing the fog alone.

“Stay there. I’m going to drag her out of this and we’ll be back,” he growled, his eyes flaring with anger and determination: your safety was his priority. 

“What!?” echoed Ava and Walker together, their faces contorted in dismay at the former Winter Soldier’s sudden declaration. 

“Hey, hey, slow down a bit” Alexei interrupted, wrapping his strong hand around Bucky’s vibranium shoulder and forcing the ex-assassin to turn and look at him. “I know you’re the mighty Winter Soldier, and you’re cool enough to be unstoppable and kick everyone’s ass along the way. But you can’t face this alone. We must stick together as the Thunderbolts!”

Bucky looked down and his jaw tightened as he absorbed the Red Guardian’s words. Although temporarily blinded by his protective instincts towards you, he had to admit that Alexei was right. He could not face the threat alone if the enemy had expanded their powers on a large scale. 

He closed his eyelids, inhaling deeply before resting his gaze on the remaining team, looking at them with a solemn expression.

“We'll go there together, then. Try to find Yelena once you’re inside. I’m going to find my girlfriend, and then we’ll manage to meet up together. Is all that clear?” he said solemnly, the word “girlfriend” still spilling easily from his mouth despite your relationship having ended years ago.

At first, silence was their answer. The group quickly exchanged glances, as if looking for implicit confirmation from each other. Then, after moments that seemed like an eternity, the three looked at Bucky, approving his plan as a new sense of hope lifted the group’s spirit. 

Walker turned his gaze towards the dark hole and took the first steps towards it. “Try not to get stuck there, Bucky,” he said dryly, the super soldier’s faint smirk was his only answer.

“Let’s go, Thunderbolts!” Alexei roared in support, his spirits lifted again by the slightly increased possibility of seeing Yelena alive.

All four of them entered the ghostly city, the fresh air of New York caressing their skin for the last time before darkness consumed them. Ava was the first to step inside, her body being claimed as soon as her feet touched the black ground. Walker and Alexei followed, marching with no hesitation as their bodies turned into shadows and were claimed by the darkness.

When it was Bucky’s turn, he hesitated at first. He stood still and watched the dark needles advance quickly, covering the shadows of his friends and then going to claim him.

He lifted his gaze slightly, looking into the heart of the darkness. Countless images of his past flashed before his eyes and his spirit was weakened by the thought of reliving a past that he had spent his whole life trying to redeem, wearing its scars like a second skin.

But he remembered the purpose of his actions, and a new wave of determination pushed him into action. He would rewatch his torture and brainwashing, he would fight his former self as the Winter Soldier, he would never let the souls of the people he had tortured and brainwashed leave him, haunting him with their desperate cries and laughing at him every time he woke up trembling on the floor after another nightmare. 

If walking back from that darkness meant pulling you out from there, then no trauma would be able to stop him from reaching his purpose. 

Bucky took a deep breath before continuing his advance, his feet almost touching the black floor as he entered the tunnel.

And after taking the last step, his world went black.

If you've come this far, thank you so much for reading my fic! Hope you enjoyed it! Please, leave a comment if you want to be added in the taglist or be removed.7

Bucky Barnes Taglist: @volklana @sylasthegrim @watermeezer

[thenameswinterfics]

I'm so happy this silly fic is still appreciated one year later 🥹

THE BLUE BUTTERFLY

Fandom: The Last Kingdom Pairing: Sihtric Kjartansson x Reader Settings: Season 2, episode 5 Summary: The summary sucks, but I'll try. After returning from Datchet, Sihtric spends some free time with you, and a group of blue butterflies catch your attention. Word Count: 4K (sorry-) Warnings: Fluff, missing moments, mention of word "whore". There are some minor spoilers from "The Lords of the North" book, so if you're planning on reading them I would advise against reading certain parts. A/N: After being a silent reader for a while and enjoying every exhistent fics on this character, I've decided to write one of my own. The inspiration comes from this post, and after weeks of venting on my terrible writing and fighting the urge of deleting everything, I wrote this! It came out different from what I had imagined, but I'm slightly satisfied. A special thanks to @sihtricfedaraaahvicius, the owner of the linked post, who gently passes me the whole passage from the book, and to @whitedarkmoonflower , @lord-aldhelm and @sylasthegrim for being my amazing beta readers and cheerleaders. I love you, really.

ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE. I APOLOGISE IN ADVANCE FOR MY GRAMMAR AND VOCABULARY MISTAKES.

Header by @whitedarkmoonflower Dividers by @saradika-graphics

READ IT ON AO3

“She says she loves me, lord,” Sihtric told Uhtred in a quiet voice, careful not to raise it too much as they slipped into the forest in the middle of the night. 

The air grew cold and thick, the full moon rising brightly into the sky, its pale rays faintly illuminating the surroundings as they filtered through the thick bank of fog that enveloped the area like a heavy blanket. The silence of the night was occasionally broken by the chirping of crickets, the hooting of an owl and the sound of leaves and trampled wood. Felted footsteps crossed the woods, a sign that Uhtred and his men were quietly approaching the village of Datchet.

Everyone was silent and cautious, except Sihtric, who was strangely absent-minded and rather distracted, the thought of your gentle smile and soft touch staining his mind like a woodworm eating the pulp of wood.

"Of course she says that," Uhtred replied quickly, hoping that his disinterested answer would quell Sihtric's desire and return his focus to the mission. But it didn’t have the desired effect; on the contrary, it encouraged Sihtric to speak again.

“I swear. She says she loves me!” the Dane retorted, his voice slightly raised as if he had found the courage to defend his feelings against his Lord, to whom he had sworn his life and his sword, for the very first time.

“Sihtric, she’s a whore,” Uhtred said, a hint of irritation could be heard in his voice.

“No,” again, Sihtric raised his voice, which grew brighter as he continued. “She’s past that,” he added with a newfound confidence, words that were far from a lie.

Sihtric had never been loved, nor had he ever felt it, an emotion of which he knew only the name and little of the meaning. How could he ever have understood such a noble thing when he was born and raised in an environment where there was no love? When the only person willing to give him love had been taken from him by a father who wanted nothing to do with him?

He lived in Dunholm, a fortress that was more of a prison than a real home. Kjartan had never felt a shred of compassion for his bastard son: to him, Sihtric was nothing more than an expendable life, a useless existence to be thrown to the dogs, as he had done to his mother, had Tekil not pleaded for his life and taken him into his servitude.

Sihtric had felt his mental chains crumble on the day he offered his life and sword to Uhtred, and vanish on the day Kjartan died, shattered by the endless blows Ragnar had dealt him while taking Dunholm. But of all the emotions that overwhelmed him that day, the void, the emptiness that the absence of love had brought him was hard to assuage. A void that he tried to fill by paying women for pleasure, hoping that one of them would step forward and mend his wounded heart, feeling that love he was craving for almost all his life. And it was in one of his nights of seeking affection from women that he found you.

When you first approached him, he was completely overwhelmed by the way you carried yourself: your ethereal beauty, your soft voice, your long curls and your big, shining eyes, which drew him to you like a moth to a flame, made him wonder why a woman as beautiful as you had chosen this kind of work. The aura that surrounded you both attracted and intimidated him, and Sihtric thought he was looking at Freya herself instead of a mortal woman. 

You took him in your room and both made love that night, soon to be followed by many others, and each time it was the purest of experiences. His rough and trembling hands were soothing against your body while his lips explored every inch of it, savouring you with the utmost respect and devotion as he saw how surprisingly responsive your body was to his touch. Soft kisses and whispers of love parted as your naked forms joined as one, two seemingly different souls in a desperate search for each other, feeding on a love you both sought by others. You desperately clasped at each other when you both reached your high, the bliss of the act made you both dizzy and satisfied. 

Sihtric fell in love with you that night and already thought of you as his wife, and when on a cold winter's day a soft "I love you" escaped your lips while reaching your peak, the Dane warrior asked for your hand, tearing you away from the job that robbed you of the dignity you deserved.

“What she loves is your silver,” another voice, Finan, joined the conversation, and soon a chorus of jokes and laughter from the other warriors followed, mocking the naivety of the young Dane. But Sihtric was not to be deterred, and with the most serious expression his face could show, he looked at Uhtred and spoke again, his words echoing in the silence of the forest.

“I wish to marry her.” 

Again, Uhtred chose to ignore his words, making Sihtric’s impatience growing inside him. 

“Lord, the lady said…” 

"The lady said she loves you, but she seems to be making good use of all the silver I gave you." Uhtred blurted out, not raising his voice too much. He could not see him, but could feel Sihtric's jaw clenching and his eyes almost looking down at his feet, as if he had been caught in the act and was awaiting punishment. 

“I will help you find a wife,” he told the Dane in a lower voice, never looking over his shoulders, “For now, I wish you to kill Danes and survive the night.”

Then a piercing scream from some of the villagers broke the silence of the night. Finan, the first in line, raised his hand to signal a halt, and Uhtred, Sihtric and the other warriors followed. They spotted two Danes resting by a makeshift campfire behind them, and having successfully neutralised them, Uhtred ordered them to hide and wait, not to attack until they were given the order. Sihtric stood near a huge tree, his back pressed against the rough wood, clutching his weapons and fidgeting with the hilt of his sword as he felt the adrenaline of battle coursing through his veins. 

The night was long, and the threat was far from over, but he was indeed following his lord’s advice to survive the night.

Because he knew that after this battle, he would return home, and would find a safe place in your arms.

A new day dawned and winter quietly took its leave of the Saxon lands. The pale rays of the morning sun warmed the earth like an embrace, peeling away the layers of snow and allowing nature to be reborn, blooming with all its colourful vegetation and the intoxicating scent of plants and flowers. Even the animals awoke from hibernation and the warmth of the spring sun allowed them to roam freely in the wild, hunting to feed their young, exploring new places to settle or simply returning like the flock of birds in the sky. 

Spring came to Coccham too, and soon the village enthusiastically welcomed the arrival of the new cycle of life. And you celebrated it by sitting by the river, enjoying the warmth of spring, closing their eyes and feeling the wind dance around them, gently ruffling their long curls. The scent of the lake, a mixture of musk, wet wood and grass, filled your nostrils and you let out a long sigh as the bare skin of your feet dipped into the water. This was the time of day you free yourself from your chores and spend some time with your thoughts. 

When you first set foot in Coccham, you never felt the struggle to find a home of your own, as Sihtric insisted on welcoming you into his own house, which soon became your little love nest. Uhtred had not yet given you his blessing to marry, but in Sihtric's eyes you were already his lovely wife. He used to spend his silver at the village market, buying you all sorts of jewellery to adorn your pale skin and enhance your beauty. And when his silver ran out, he gave you his arm rings and spoils of war, a reward Uhtred gave him when he thought his services worthy. 

The time you spent together was sadly short, as his lord always managed to fill his days with arduous tasks or sending him out on patrol, but as evening fell and you waited for him to come home, he never failed to show you how empty his day was without you. You could read all the love and devotion he felt for you in his timid, mismatched eyes, looking at you like a goddess descended among mere mortals. His calloused hands would always find your soft cheeks, brushing your flesh and lower lips with his thumb before giving you a desperate kiss, feeding on your lips like a hungry predator after a lean day. 

And when there were evenings when Sihtric came home, haunted by the thought of leaving you behind while he was on the battlefield, he would sit by your side by the fire, his forehead pressed against yours as hot tears crossed his sharp face, and kiss every inch of your exposed skin as if it were the last thing he could do before reaching Valhalla. You would spend the night cuddling in bed, crying in each other's arms before sleep took you both, and you would wake in the morning with emptiness wrapped around your arms. 

Uhtred had left weeks ago, taking Sihtric and the rest of his warriors and sailing to Datchet to secure the Thames for King Alfred. You would usually spend your time in Gisela's company, helping her with the household chores and keeping an eye on her children. But the restless night you were facing had left you with a throbbing headache and a bad mood, and you didn't feel the need for human companionship as much as the immaterial one of your thoughts and emotions.

You had learned over time how stressful and heartbreaking it could be to live with a warrior,  and watch him slip silently from your embrace at the crack of dawn. Loneliness had become your silent companion during those long waits, leaving your heart bleeding with pain and your mind filled with imaginary thoughts that would eventually haunt you in your sleep, tossing and turning as false scenarios formed in your mind, your breath itching in your dreams as you saw Sihtric lying lifeless on the ground, no weapons in his hands in your worst nightmares. 

You were jolted from your thoughts by two strong arms wrapped around your waist and a soft gasp escaped your lips. Your bare feet came out of the water and were soon planted on the floor, and before you could react the same arms wrapped around your waist, enveloping your petite body in a warm embrace, your back pressed against a broad chest. 

Fear clouded your mind as you thought you were trapped under the clasp of a filthy man who wanted nothing from you but the pleasure your body could provide, but when you felt the man's head pressed against your shoulder, you shivered as you recognised the touch of his soft lips pressed against the side of your neck. 

"My love," the soft and familiar voice called to you in a sweet chant, soon loosening its grip to allow you to turn around. And it was then that you recognised him: his lean face and sharp jaw, decorated with scars that crossed his forehead and one of his cheekbones, his dark hair cut short at the sides and combed in three braids, the kohl liner around his eyes that seemed to harden a tender and watchful gaze, and that unmistakable tattoo that ran from one side of his head to his neck. All features that could only belong to Sihtric, the Dane warrior who stole your heart from the first moment he laid eyes on you. 

You jumped on him, wrapping your neck around your arms and pecking his face with small kisses. Your sudden move caused him to step back, struggling to find the balance and not fall ruinously to the ground.

“You are back!” you happily stated, stepping back a little to admire him. “And without a scratch!”

“I will always find a way back to you,” Sihtric spoke quietly, a small smile forming on his lips as he rested his forehead on yours, allowing his lungs to fill with your scent, a mixture of myrtle, rosemary and wild flowers. 

“I looked for you all over the village, I thought I would have found you there,” he continued, taking one of your hands and pressing his lips on your slender fingers, enjoying the softness of your skin.

“I was in no mood to spend my time in the company of others,” you confessed lightheartedly, locking your gaze on his. "Besides, where could a defenceless lady go but to fantasise about her lover warrior by the lake?" 

Your witty reply made Sihtric chuckle and shake his head, grabbing your tiny waist with his large hands and pulling you close to him. But when your foreheads touched, too intoxicated by your inviting scent, his smile fell and two dark, troubled eyes extinguished the light they had every time he was near you. A long sigh followed, and you could tell that his mind was tortured as well. 

"Sihtric?" you called quietly, the light touch of your fingers on his cheek bringing him out of his thoughts. "Is something troubling you? Are you hurt?"

"No," was his quiet reply, whispered so softly as to be almost inaudible, and before you could question him further, he wrapped you in a long and desperate embrace, burying his head in the crook of your neck. His breathing became shallow and erratic, and judging by his slight trembling, he was on the verge of tears.

“No other woman will be able to replace you. No one,” the Dane thought aloud, preventing you from replying back when his trembling lips captured yours in a needy and desperate kiss, storming your mind with questions you fear there can be no answers to. 

Later that day, the sun was high in the sky and a cloudless blue expanse rose over the village. You could feel the sun's rays hitting your skin with an unpleasant heat, but you were glad that there was a soothing breeze in the air, its cool touch like a balm to your skin, which had become slightly red from prolonged exposure to the sun.

Everyone was busy welcoming King Alfred to Coccham, followed by Lord Odda, some soldiers and thengs, and his small army of priests and monks. When they retired to the main hall to discuss urgent matters, you took the opportunity to release Sihtric from his duties, as his presence was not required at that moment, and hand in hand you walked through the gates of Coccham, approached the small harbour and rested on the grass. 

When you went outside, Sihtric finally gave you all the answers he had been unable to give you before, too overwhelmed by his emotions: he told you of his mission and the time he had spent in Datchet, and of the many times he had asked Uhtred for permission to marry you, only to be met with indifference or veiled refusal. He even told you how he had proposed to arrange a suitable marriage for him, and the very thought of it made you both feel sick inside. 

It was no surprise to you that both the Daneslayer and his warriors frowned upon you; your old profession was a stain on your character that was difficult to wipe away. You were aware of the mischievous glances and veiled comments they made whenever you sat at the same table outside their tavern, to which you always responded with stiff lips and restraint, unlike Sihtric, who, dulled by the alcohol that brought out his dormant impulsiveness, threatened to make the square to anyone who dared offend you. It was your task to calm him down each time, assuring him that it was a temporary situation and that everyone would get used to your presence. But deep in your heart you knew it wouldn't be so.

You sat back in the grass, Sihtric's head in your lap, his eyes closed as he enjoyed the light breeze caressing his face. You stroked his uncombed hair gently, giggling at how soft his hair felt to the touch, while your eyes continued to scan the surroundings, focusing on the men coming and going from the small wooden dock, busy unloading goods from ships or docking others. Then you took your eyes off the water and sighed as you spotted a group of ducks swimming happily in the water, followed by a small group of adorable ducklings squawking loudly.

Suddenly your attention was drawn to a small group of butterflies fluttering along the shore, slowly dispersing into the air, creating a spectacular display of colour. Your jaw dropped slightly, mesmerised by the delicate dance these insects were performing in the air, some allowing the wind to gently transport them from the nearest flowers and feed on their nectar, others resting gracefully on the grass and stretching their bright blue wings a little before continuing their dance. A pleasant warm spread across your chest, feeling a sense of peace and happiness crossing your face. 

“They are a beautiful sight,” a kneaded voice brought you back to reality, feeling Sihtric slightly shifting from your lap. His brown eye was open, looking at the butterflies, while his other one was covered by his forearm.

“Indeed,” you spoke softly, gently pressing your lips on his forehead. You could see his cheeks flushing with the brightest red. “They truly are.” 

One of the butterflies left its group, approaching you. Sihtric leanend one of his arms, stretching one of his fingers to welcome the insect. He chuckled lightly when he felt your curious gaze over him, and soon his mismatched eyes were locked into yours.

“I have heard stories saying that blue butterflies are meant to bring luck,” he explained quietly, his gaze now shifted again on the insect, which stood in midair, watching his finger. “The longer it stays on your finger, the longer your luck lasts.” 

Sihtric waited for the butterfly to pose on his finger, a hint of impatience growing in him as he secretly begged the insect to rest as long as possible and bring you both luck. But it chose not to rest, spreading its wings and turning its attention elsewhere. He let out a frustrated groan, which was greeted by your delicate laugh. Your voice was a melody to his ears. 

"Then I guess you have no luck," you said, a slight grin forming at the corner of your mouth, your hand continuing to rub Sihtric's hair in small, circular motions. Your reply caused Sihtric to move from where he was sitting on the grass and look at your face: his dark, loose hair seemed to soften his features, his two-toned eyes lit up at the sight of your smile, making his heart pound in his chest and his breath quicken. His trembling hands rested on your cheeks, rubbing them with the utmost care, afraid that you might break under his rough touch. 

"I am lucky, my lady," he whispered, resting his forehead on yours. "A little butterfly may not have given me luck, but the gods have given me you, a far greater blessing than any fleeting luck could provide." 

He slowly drew you closer, rubbing the tips of your noses and waiting for your permission. When you nodded softly, sighing at his soothing touch, he locked his lips to yours in a tender kiss, a light touch soon followed by deeper contact. He placed his hand on the nape of your neck, pressing urgently against it, rubbing your exposed flesh in slow, circular motions, his sudden movement making you tremble and a soft moan escaping your throat. 

As the kiss deepened and the heat of pleasure engulfed you both, you felt a gentle tickling crossing your hand, causing you to break the kiss. You looked down your hand and a gasp escaped from your lips.

"Sihtric, look!" you called, shaking his arm without hurting him too much, and when you were sure his gaze was fixed on you, you gently raised your hand to reveal the same butterfly as before peacefully perched on your finger. Words were superfluous to describe the surreal moment, and you both stood still, watching in amazement as its shiny wings closed and reopened, both of you secretly telling the insect to rest as much as it could. In this silent exchange of glances and thoughts, it was as if nature had intervened in your path, whispering promises of future serenity and joy amidst the chaos of the world. 

You felt Sihtric raising off the ground urgently, and without uttering a word he approached the gates. You gave him a puzzled look, stunned by his sudden move. “Where are you going?”

“To lord Uhtred,” Sihtric turned around and looked at you, a wide smile crossing his face. “I will ask his permission to marry you again.” 

“But lord Uhtred already gave his decision,” you replied back, slightly raising his voice as you saw him approaching the gates. 

“The blue butterfly.” he replied in a cheerful voice, pointing to the small insect still in your hand. “We have been blessed by luck. I will marry you, my love. I swear I will!” 

And it was at that moment that you saw his figure cross the gates and slowly disappear into the distance, leaving you alone. You let out a long sigh, the corners of your lips curling into a small smile, and fixed your gaze on the butterfly, which awkwardly spread its wings, leaving your finger behind before rejoining its group and disappearing into the air.  

That butterfly brought you luck. That was what Sihtric thought, while you continued to believe that Gisela's help was behind it all, when Uhtred finally gave his permission to marry you, on the condition that he complete a task for him. Sihtric came back to you, showering your face with soft and urgent kisses, his heart heavy at having to leave you again, but his spirit lifted at the thought that after this mission you would finally be his and his only. 

Fortunately, Sihtric didn't keep you waiting too long, for he returned from Skald's Hall a few days later, and by mutual agreement, a small and intimate wedding ceremony was held on Frigga's Day, according to Sihtric's religion and beliefs. His eyes could not stay in contact with yours for too long, your dazzling beauty sending shivers down his spine and dulling his senses, for he could still not believe that the gods had allowed him a glimpse of happiness by sending you on his path. After the exchange of your wedding rings and Sihtric's promise to be the devoted and loving husband you deserve, clutching his Mjolnir pendant in his hands, a kiss sealed the much awaited union, witnessed by the few present and the watchful eyes of the gods.

And when the two of you would sit in the same place years later with your stomach fertile with new life, a blue butterfly would rest on your outstretched finger, bringing good fortune and prosperity to your happy union for years to come.  

Taglist: @whitedarkmoonflower @sihtricfedaraaahvicius @foxyanon @legitalicat @zaldritzosrose

@alexagirlie @sylasthegrim @lord-aldhelm

[thenameswinterfics]

Ohhhh I love a soulmate AU! Can you tell us more?? 😍

Thank you so much for the ask, dear! 💜 Based on this post.

I don't remember where I found this, but there's a soulmate AU in which you see the world in black and white until you met your soulmate and the world shows its colours to you.

I was thinking of doing this with reader and Bucky together.

I don't know if I want to set in during TFATWS or let it start between CATWS and CACW and finish after Endgame.

I will probably choose the second option, though, because I have imagined their first meet during the Captain America exhibition (using the scene when Bucky looks at himself and tries to remember).

Sadly this is still a very vague idea, but I hope to work on this soon! (after I finish some of my planned WIPs first).

[thenameswinterfics]

So, since I received the same ask from two different people, I'll merge them in one post.

Thank you so much @soelstress and @azriona for the asks! Based on this post.

So, this kind of brainrot started because I am myself a lover of LOTR and The Hobbit, but most importantly it was born because of a line Bucky says in the second episode of "The Falcon and The Winter Soldier":

You can see how this guy was the ultimate nerd for Tolkien and The Hobbit because in the US the first edition was published a year later, in 1938 (if I remember correctly). So imagine how hard would have been for him to find the UK edition and read it a year before the US release. What a nerd he was.

But returning to the fic, I decided to set it in the TFATWS timeline. The fic begins with Bucky entering a small Brooklyn bookshop for a book signing of a special edition of The Hobbit, featuring illustrations of pivotal scenes from different chapters. Here meets the reader, who's the illustrator of this special edition.

The rest would be them knowing each other better and have a nerdy date watching LOTR and The Hobbit films together every night (in this fic Bucky hasn't seen the films yet).

It's nothing so spectacular, it will be a fluffy mess and me satisfying my fantasies of Bucky being a Tolkien fanboy.

Thank you again for the ask, beautiful ladies! 💜

[thenameswinterfics]

WIP GAME

Rules: In a new post, post the names of all the files in your wip folder regardless of how non descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet or tell us about it.

Thank you to @buckyys-babydoll for the tag! 💜 Here's the list of my fics so far:

BETWEEN THE DARK AND THE VOID Chapter 1 of 4 - L'Appel Du Vide (Thunderbolts!Bucky x Mutant!Reader);

UNNAMED NERD!BUCKY X ARTIST!READER

UNNAMED BUCKY BARNES X READER (Soulmate AU);

UNNAMED BUCKY BARNES X READER (REQUESTED);

THE WHITE LADY (Sihtric Kjartansson x Albino!Reader);

JORMUNGANDR (Sihtric Kjartansson x Reader);

UNNAMED DAERON X READER FIC (Daeron Targaryen x Florent!Reader; REQUESTED);

UNNAMED CREGAN X READER FIC (Cregan Stark x Reader);

UNNAMED JACAERYS TARGARYEN X READER (Corpse Bride AU);

UNNAMED VAMPIRE!MASEMA DAGAR X WEREWOLF!READER (Victorian AU)

Hoping that I don't have more writing blocks and I can manage to actually write them all.

No pressure tags (if you want to): @sylasthegrim , @bcksbarnes , @zaldritzosrose , @legitalicat , @foxyanon , @sunday-bug , @soelstress , @societyfolklore , @azriona , @daydreamgoddess14 , @artficlly , @mrsbuckybarnes1917 , @sergeantbarnessdoll , @navybrat817 , @mrs-elsie-barnes , @whitedarkmoonflower , @leftoverp1zza , @lord-aldhelm , @aneurins-barnard , @still-jon-snow and whoever sees this and wants to do it!

[thenameswinterfics]

Little update adding the temporary suspension of the cross posting with AO3 until they resolve the scrapping mess it has happened some time ago.

I remind you there's a post where you can request to be included in one of my masterlists, you can find the link in the description under the cut!

See you in these days with a new fic!

Just an introduction post.

I just realized I haven't made an introduction post yet. How silly I am...

Well... Greetings, beautiful people!

Few things to know about me: I'm Winter, I'm 26 years old and I'm from Italy. I'm studying Graphic, Visual and Multimedia Communication at the univeristy and I'm currently in my final year. I'm an INFP, my zodiac sign is Pisces and I'm bisexual.

For a long time I was always on the silent side of fandom, in constant lurking mode. If you see a silent shadow watching over your work, that's basically me.

This is a short list of the fandom I'm in (most actively): The Last Kingdom, Vikings, Vikings: Valhalla, The Wheel of Time, Game of Thrones (with A Song of Ice and Fire content), House of the Dragon, The Witcher, Shadow and Bone, Spartacus, ATLA (the cartoon) Legend of Korra, Merlin, Dragon Age and Baldur's Gate.

In my spare time I also play a role-playing game called "Dungeons and Dragons". I'm mostly a player, although I'm thinking about planning my first campaign as a Dungeon Master. My favourite thing is writing backgrounds for my OC's, maybe I can share them with you in the future.

Just for your personal information, this is exclusively a writing blog. If you want to see my ramblings about fandoms, you can find me on my main blog here (I know, it's quite messy but... hey! That's me, a messy girl!)

I have recetly opened a gif blog! You can find my silly creations here.

A special thanks to my beloved @zaldritzosrose and @legitalicat for the whole graphics! 💜

FIC SECTION

I'm a multifandom writer, mainly writing for The Last Kingdom and House of the Dragon fandom. Lately I joined Marvel fandom too, so more fics will be posted in the future.

It cannot be ruled out that in the future there may arrive fics from other characters from the same or different fandoms.

I cross publish my fics on AO3, which you can read them from this link.*

If you want to be tagged in my taglist, you can reply on this post, send me a DM or leave a comment!

Fic requests are currently OPEN! You can find the list here!

English is not my first language. You may find some grammar and vocabulary mistakes. I'm sorry for this, I swear I'm practicing!

It will happen that some of my fics will contain NSFW contents. So, if you are a minor under the age of 18, please DNI.

I never, NEVER give the permission for my works to be translated (I can translate on my own in my native language whenever I feel the need to) or to be reposted in sites outside Tumblr or used in AI chatbots sites. *due to the fact AO3 has been hugely scapped recently, and that some of my works have been sadly scrapped and used to feed the generate AI, the cross publishing on AO3 is suspended until the platform comes back as a safe place to post things. Until then, you can read my fics here!

THE LAST KINGDOM MASTERLIST

HOUSE OF THE DRAGON MASTERLIST

MARVEL MASTERLIST