Screenshots above show clear usage of AI, including them admitting it. This user has admitted to using ai already, yet tags their posts as art. AI IS NOT ART.
Recently, their marvel AI slop has been getting a lot of attention such as
💬 2 🔁 147 ❤️ 408 · I’d like to imagine his arm warms up a lil for alpine like a lil heating pad.
💬 3 🔁 32 ❤️ 227 · Sometimes I remember taskmaster was supposed to be in this movie.
💬 2 🔁 69 ❤️ 380 · I don’t think she’d be able to reach and I think he would know that’s funny.
💬 2 🔁 70 ❤️ 219 · Sistah sistah
And I’ll be honest, I almost fell for one of them too. Thank you @itzzkaylaaa for being aware and spreading such awareness :)
I shouldn’t need to write a paragraph for you to listen to me, so to get straight to the point:
Please block this person and help spread awareness. Their ways isn’t welcome in marvel and art community.
Requesting @itzzkaylaaa to use her tag list in reblogs thank you
18+ Summary: Bucky Soulmate AU. You get your soulmate's name at a young age. Much younger than most. And it's definitely not someone you expected it to be.
Triggers: *Violence* Use of Y/N Age gap (CA:TWS Bucky x 18 y.o. reader), Bucky/Winter Soldier,* uuuuuuuuhhhh....don't worry it'll be fine*
Masterlist
Chapter 4: Snared
The rain lashed against the roof in a relentless downpour, turning the safehouse into a drum of foreboding. Bucky moved with a fierce focus, his metal arm flexing as he swept the dim interior for threats. You trailed closely behind, the tether beneath your skin vibrating with warmth—a constant reminder that danger was never far, yet also a connection that neither Hydra nor fate could sever.
Steve leaned against the doorway, arms crossed and brow knitted tight with concern. His gaze flicked restlessly between you and Bucky, lingering on the subtle intimacy of your intertwined hands. Frustration mixed with fear was evident in his expression.
“Do you really think this is safe?” he pressed, voice taut. “Bringing her here, letting her—”
His words were sharply interrupted when Natasha rounded the corner, alert and scrutinizing. Her gaze landed on the two of you, scrutinizing the way your hands were clasped. “Wait… what is that?” she asked softly, perplexed. “That pull? That… connection?”
You felt the tether pulse between you, a comforting warmth syncing with Bucky’s steady heartbeat. “It’s… a bond,” you explained, meeting her inquisitive gaze. “We’re… tethered. It’s like we can sense each other.”
Natasha’s brow furrowed deeper. “You mean you can actually feel him? Like, physically?”
Bucky’s grip on your hand tightened as he stepped closer. “It’s not just touch. It’s instinct, awareness—something beyond explanation. We move together.”
In the back, Sam leaned against the wall with a smirk, arms crossed. “So let me get this straight. You two are like lovebirds with built-in GPS? This is basically a superhero rom-com waiting to happen!”
“Now’s not the time, Sam,” Steve snapped, his irritation palpable.
Bucky’s gaze was steadfast, holding a fierce protectiveness. “This is about survival, Steve. Nothing is going to happen to her.”
You pressed your hand over Bucky’s chest, feeling the rhythm of his heart steadying yours. “We can manage this,” you said softly, the tether humming to affirm your bond.
As Natasha guided the group through drills, her curiosity about your connection clear, she remarked, “I’ve never seen anything like it. How do you both operate as one?”
Sam couldn’t resist. “Sure, synergy’s great, but it looks like you’re auditioning for a dance video. If Hydra catches this, I’d pay to see their faces.”
“Enough, Sam,” Steve interjected, still visibly worried. “This is reckless. She’s a civilian.”
“Not just a civilian,” Bucky emphasized, his voice low and intense. “She’s my tether. My anchor. My link to everything I’ve lost.”
At that moment, the security system blared, indicating movement outside. Red laser sights flickered across the room, prompting Sam and Natasha to instinctively fall into defensive stances.
“Y/N, stay close,” Bucky commanded, pulling you to his side as fingers interlaced. The tether pulsed, electrified with urgency.
“Steve, she can’t be part of this—” Sam began, but Bucky’s voice cut through the tension.
“Steve, she stays!” he snapped, fierce determination lighting in his blue eyes. “We move together, or we don’t move at all.”
The first Hydra operative burst through the door. Bucky reacted with a fluidity that surprised even him, deflecting the attacker with his metal arm, sending the operative sprawling. Instinctively, you rolled and dodged, the tether guiding your movements, attuned to Bucky’s every action.
“Is this for real?” Sam muttered, ducking under a swinging fist. “It’s like watching synchronized swimming… if one of them had a metal arm and fought super-soldiers.”
Natasha, despite her confusion about your connection, couldn’t deny the impressive way you two fought side by side. “Keep it up,” she said, her voice edged with admiration. “Whatever this is, it truly works.”
Feeling the grounding pressure of Bucky beside you, you pressed another quick kiss to his jaw. The tether flared in response, surging with renewed energy, strengthening both of you.
“Stay focused!” Steve barked from the sidelines, but his voice faltered as a second operative lunged, and you swiftly sidestepped, Bucky’s metal arm blocking the blow aimed at your head.
“Not today!” you shouted, adrenaline surging. Together, you dance through chaos, fully alive in the heartbeat of danger.
As the chaos unfolded, you felt the tether pulsing like a second heartbeat, guiding you through each movement. The adrenaline coursed through your veins, heightening your senses. With every determined breath, you became more attuned to Bucky, the rhythm between you anchoring your actions.
“On your left!” he shouted suddenly, spotting an operative sneaking up behind you. Without missing a beat, you pivoted and ducked just in time as a Hydra operative lunged, his fist swiping dangerously close. Bucky’s metal arm came crashing down, sending the attacker sprawling to the ground.
The safehouse erupted in shouts and the sounds of fists meeting flesh. A second operative rushed in, and you instinctively fell into step with Bucky, your movements fluid and coordinated. With a flick of his wrist, Bucky knocked the assailant off balance, allowing you to slip in beside him. With a swift kick, you sent the second operative tumbling sideways, crashing into a stack of crates.
“Keep an eye on your six!” Bucky called out, his voice cutting through the chaos. You could see the tension etched on his face, a mixture of focus and urgency. The way he fought, protective yet fluid, made your heart race. You were no longer just a civilian; in this moment, you were integral to the team.
A third operative barreled toward you, but you sidestepped, letting Bucky take the lead. He struck hard and fast, grounding the operative with a solid punch. You moved in tandem, following his lead as you deflected another incoming blow aimed at him. The tether thrummed, exhilarating and bright, enabling you both to anticipate each other's next moves.
“Together!” you shouted, and he nodded, the trust in his gaze affirming everything. With a synchronized motion, you tackled the last remaining operative, sending him sprawling to the floor as the chaos reached a fever pitch around you.
Breathless, you stood in the aftermath, and for a moment, it felt as if the world had narrowed down to just the two of you amidst the chaos.
Bucky turned to face you, the corners of his lips lifting in a brief, triumphant smile that made your heart stutter in your chest.
But it was too early to celebrate. All too soon you heard the deafening crack of a gun and Bucky's smile was fading.
He lurched forward into your arms, blood gushing from his shoulder. Your face paled. He couldn't leave you now. He couldn't. All these years of thinking he was dead, he couldn't die on you now.
You collapsed to the ground under his weight and brought his head to rest in your lap.
"No James! You have to stay with me ok?" Tears started to flood your eyes. Bucky smiled at you and winced.
"It's just a graze."
You shook your head.
"It's not. There's so much blood." The tears were coming faster now.
"I've had worse," he noted.
You chuckled through your tears. "Yeah right."
Bucky was fighting to stay awake. "Hey, remember when I first saw you? I thought you were beautiful. Didn't know who you were. Knew you were different. Then you looked at me like you knew me..." he trailed off, eyes starting to flutter shut.
You started to panic looking around for Steve or Natasha. Anyone.
"Steve! Natasha! Help!" You screamed as you gently shook Bucky trying desperately to keep him conscious. "No James. You have to stay awake."
Bucky groaned roughly. "I just need to close my eyes for a minute. I'll be fine."
"Someone help!" You screamed again, louder this time.
Steve was the first to reach you, sliding to his knees beside Bucky with a grim set to his jaw. Natasha was right behind, already pulling out a field medic kit from her gear. Sam hovered above, his usual sarcasm nowhere in sight, replaced by tense urgency.
“Y/N, keep pressure on the wound,” Steve commanded, his voice steady despite the fear lurking beneath. You obeyed instantly, your trembling hands pressing against the seeping blood. The tether between you and Bucky pulsed weakly, its warmth flickering like a dying ember.
Natasha ripped open Bucky’s tactical suit to assess the wound. “Bullet’s lodged deep. We need to get it out, or he’s going to bleed out,” she muttered, her hands working quickly, efficiently.
“James, stay with me,” you whispered, your tears mingling with the blood on his skin. “You promised we’d move together. Don’t break that promise.”
Bucky’s eyes fluttered open at your voice, his gaze foggy but searching for yours. “Not going anywhere… you’re my tether, remember?” His attempt at a smile was weak, but it was there.
Natasha worked swiftly, her face a mask of focus. Steve’s strong hands steadied Bucky as Sam handed over supplies. The tension in the room was suffocating, thick with a fear none of them voiced aloud.
“Bullet’s out,” Natasha announced, holding up the bloody piece of metal before tossing it aside. “But we need to stop the bleeding.”
You didn’t let go of Bucky’s hand, your grip fierce, as if your strength alone could anchor him to this world. The tether pulsed stronger under your touch, as if feeding off your determination.
Minutes felt like hours, but finally, Natasha tied off the makeshift bandage, her face relaxing slightly. “We stabilized him for now, but he needs proper medical attention.”
Steve met your tear-streaked gaze. “We’ll get him out of here. I promise.”
With Sam’s help, they lifted Bucky onto a makeshift stretcher. You never let go of his hand, walking alongside, your heart syncing to the faint beat of the tether still holding strong.
As you exited the battered safehouse, the rain had stopped, leaving only the echoes of the storm within your heart. But Bucky was alive. And as long as that tether pulsed between you, there was hope.
i hear you love dad bucky and so do i! could you write about bucky teaching your toddler to say ‘mama’ but every time she tries it just comes out as ‘fuck’ instead. chaos ensues. pls i need pure dad!bucky comedy fluff!!!!
love this for him. poor guy would be so mortified
----------
Bucky Barnes prided himself on being many things these days. He could grill a mean steak, change the oil in the car without swearing too much, fix a leaky sink, and rock a cranky toddler to sleep with a patience he’d never thought himself capable of back in his Winter Soldier days.
But teaching his daughter to say mama? That was apparently his Everest.
“C’mon, sweet girl,” he coaxed, sitting cross-legged on the living room rug. His vibranium hand was flat on the carpet to keep balance, his flesh one wiggling the plastic giraffe she insisted on bringing everywhere. “Say it with me. Ma-ma. Easy. Just two little sounds.”
His daughter blinked up at him, all big eyes and drool, her curls sticking up like she’d licked a socket. She gurgled, smiled wide, and then—
“Fuhhk.”
Bucky froze. “...What?”
She clapped her tiny hands like she’d just discovered fire. “Fuhhhk!”
“Jesus Christ.” Bucky rubbed a hand down his face. “No, no, no. Not—God, your ma’s gonna kill me. Say mama. Like this. Mah.”
“Fuhhk.”
Bucky stared at her. She stared back, proud as hell. Then she shoved the giraffe in her mouth like that was that.
“Okay,” he muttered, leaning back on his hands. “Okay, we can fix this. No big deal. Just—y’know—fine-tune the ol’ baby speech. Nothing to panic about.”
Except he was panicking, because you were due back from the grocery store any minute and how exactly was he supposed to explain that your not-quite-two-year-old’s first clear word was the worst one in the book?
He tried again. “Mama. Maaaaa-ma.” He tapped his chest. “Dada.” Then pointed toward the door. “Mama.”
“Fuhhk!”
“Oh, for the love of—no! Not—dammit.”
She laughed, belly-deep, clearly delighted at the way his jaw dropped.
Bucky dragged both hands down his face and groaned. “You’re killin’ me, kid.”
—
By the time you came through the door, bags on your hip, Bucky had sweat on his brow and a wild look in his eye.
“Hey, Buck.” You kissed his cheek on your way past, not noticing how stiff he went. “How was she?”
Bucky opened his mouth. Closed it. Considered lying. Immediately chickened out.
“She… talked,” he blurted.
Your whole face lit up. “What? She said something?!”
“Yeah.”
“What did she say?”
Bucky grimaced.
From the rug, your daughter perked up. “Fuhhk!”
You dropped the grocery bag straight onto the counter with a thunk. “I—excuse me?”
Bucky raised both hands like a criminal caught in the act. “I swear to God, doll, I was tryin’ to get her to say mama. That’s what came out instead!”
You turned slowly, eyes wide. “Her first word is fuck?”
Bucky winced. “I’m workin’ on it.”
Your daughter, delighted by the attention, shouted it again. Louder. “FUUHHHK!”
You slapped a hand over your mouth to smother the laugh that tried to escape. “Bucky.”
“Don’t you laugh at this!” He pointed at you accusingly. “If she starts sayin’ it at daycare, they’re gonna think it’s me!”
“It is you,” you wheezed, trying not to double over. “You kiss her goodnight with that mouth, Sarge?”
“You’re the one home with her most days,” you said, shoulders shaking.
“She’s got super soldier ears, doll! You stub your toe once and suddenly it’s her favorite word.”
You pressed your lips together, but your eyes sparkled with tears from holding back laughter. “Oh my God. This is the funniest thing I’ve ever heard.”
Bucky groaned, scrubbing his hand through his hair. “I fought Nazis for this.”
—
Over the next week, the problem only got worse.
Everywhere you went, she hollered it like a battle cry. The park. The pediatrician’s office. Once, memorably, in line at Target where the elderly woman behind you gasped loud enough to be heard three aisles over.
“See what I mean?” Bucky muttered, steering the cart toward checkout while you tried not to collapse with laughter. “We’re raising a menace.”
“She’ll grow out of it.”
“She better, or I’m changin’ our names and movin’ us to Canada.”
You had to admit, though, there was something about seeing the former Winter Soldier—the man who’d once struck fear into entire armies—turn beet-red every time his toddler yelled fuck in public that made it almost worth it.
Almost.
—
One night, Bucky doubled down.
He sat her in her high chair, serious as a general preparing for war. He leaned in close, tapping her tray with one finger.
“Honey. Listen to me. Mama. Maaaaa-ma. Say it. Mama.”
She blinked at him. Opened her mouth.
“Fuck.”
Bucky slammed his head against the table. “I give up.”
You cackled from the stove, spoon dangling in your hand. “Barnes, you can’t let a toddler defeat you.”
“She’s not a toddler, she’s a demon in OshKosh overalls.”
You crossed the kitchen, pressed a kiss to the top of his head, and whispered, “For what it’s worth, I think it’s kinda cute.”
He shot you a look. “If she calls you fuck in front of your mother, you won’t think it’s cute.”
…Fair point.
—
The final straw came a few days later when Sam dropped by.
He barely made it through the door before your daughter spotted him, shrieked, and proudly shouted, “FUUHHHK!”
Sam froze. Blinked. Then doubled over, wheezing so hard he had to grab the back of the couch for support.
Bucky’s face went scarlet. “Don’t.”
“Oh, I’m absolutely telling Steve about this.”
“Wilson.”
Sam was wiping tears from his eyes. “Barnes, your kid just called me fuck to my face!”
“That’s not what she meant!”
“Sounded like what she meant.”
You were no help, curled into the corner of the couch, laughing so hard your stomach hurt.
“Glad you’re all enjoying yourselves,” Bucky grumbled, scooping his daughter out of Sam’s reach before she could repeat herself. “I’m livin’ a nightmare.”
Sam wheezed, “Best. Day. Ever.”
—
It took another two weeks before the breakthrough happened.
Bucky was sprawled on the rug again, daughter balanced on his chest, her sticky little hands patting his beard. He looked wrecked, eyes half-closed, too tired to keep fighting.
“Y’know what, peanut?” he murmured, voice soft. “Forget it. Call me whatever you want. I’ll always be your dada. And one day, when you’re ready, you’ll say mama for your ma. Don’t matter if it’s today or a year from now. We’ll wait.”
She tilted her head, considering. Then, clear as day, she whispered, “Mama.”
Bucky sat bolt upright so fast she almost toppled off him. “What did you just—say it again!”
She giggled. “Mama.”
“Holy shit.” He whooped so loud you came running from the kitchen. “Doll! She said it! She actually said it!”
Your heart nearly burst as you scooped her into your arms, kissing her chubby cheeks. “You did? You said mama?”
“Mama!” she chirped again.
Bucky threw his hands in the air like he’d just won the Super Bowl. “That’s my girl! No more swears, thank God.”
You beamed, tears prickling your eyes, while Bucky paced the room like a man possessed, muttering, “I’m writin’ this down, I’m callin’ Steve, I’m gettin’ it carved in stone somewhere—”
Of course, right as the moment peaked, she grinned wide and bellowed:
“Fuhhhk!”
Bucky groaned, collapsing face-first into the couch. “Forget it. We’re doomed.”
You laughed so hard you could barely breathe, cuddling your daughter close. “Hey, at least she’s versatile.”
From the couch, muffled into a pillow, Bucky groaned, “I survived Hydra for this.”
And honestly? You wouldn’t have had it any other way.
18+ Summary: Bucky Soulmate AU. You get your soulmate's name at a young age. Much younger than most. And it's definitely not someone you expected it to be.
Triggers: Use of Y/N Age gap (CA:TWS Bucky x 18 y.o. reader), swearing, canon and non canon violence, Bucky/Winter Soldier, angst, fluff, drug mentions,
Masterlist
The room smelled of antiseptic and old wood, a small haven tucked into a quiet corner of the city. Bucky sat cross-legged on the floor, Y/N beside him, gently pressing a cloth against a shallow cut on his cheek. The metal arm gleamed faintly in the dim light, scarred but functional.
“Does it… hurt?” Y/N asked softly, her fingers trembling slightly as she applied pressure.
He shook his head, forcing a small, wry smile. “Pain isn’t the problem,” he said, voice low. “It’s the… remembering.”
She frowned, hesitant. “Remembering what?”
“Everything,” he muttered, staring at the floor. “Hydra. Soldat. Orders. Blood on my hands I can’t erase.”
Her hand brushed his arm, over the cool metal, and he flinched, but only slightly. “You’re not that man anymore,” she said. “Not when you’re here. Not with me.”
For the first time in decades, Bucky let a fragment of himself surface—the man who had been James Barnes, Brooklyn-born, human, vulnerable. Her words anchored him, her presence grounding him against the storm of memories Hydra had forced upon him.
The tether pulsed faintly beneath their skin, unspoken but undeniable. It thrummed in time with their hearts, quiet but insistent.
The night outside was heavy with rain, shadows pooling between streetlamps. Bucky scanned the perimeter, metal arm flexing as every sense remained on high alert. Hydra wouldn’t forget. They never did.
Suddenly, the sound of tires screeching and boots splashing through puddles signaled the inevitable. Hydra operatives were closing in.
“Stay behind me,” Bucky whispered, stepping in front of Y/N.
The first operative lunged, a baton raised. Bucky moved like liquid steel, catching the baton mid-swing with his metal hand and twisting it out of the man’s grasp. He slammed the operative into a wall; bricks crumbled, the sound of impact reverberating through the alley. Another came from behind—he pivoted, swept the man off his feet, sending him sprawling into the rain-soaked street.
Y/N ducked instinctively, her pulse racing, but Bucky’s presence, the tether’s pull, reassured her. Every movement he made was protective, calculated, lethal—but never reckless.
They darted through alleys, across rooftops, shadows clinging to them as Hydra pursued relentlessly. The rain drenched them, cold and sharp, but Bucky’s focus never wavered. Every footstep, every glance, every flicker of the tether guided him.
They rounded a corner and ran into an unexpected obstacle: a team of strangers, armed and ready. Natasha, Steve, and Sam stepped forward, eyes assessing, weapons drawn.
“Stop,” Natasha said calmly, though the tension in her tone was sharp. “You two aren’t Hydra. Are you hurt?”
Bucky’s metal arm glinted under the streetlight, muscles tense. “We’re not your enemy,” he said cautiously. “But they’re after her.”
Steve stepped closer, eyes sharp but kind. “Who’s after you?”
“HYDRA,” Bucky said. “They call me Soldat. They… they erased my past. My name is James Barnes, but that doesn’t matter anymore. They’ll kill her if I don’t—” His voice caught. He stopped himself, realizing he was revealing too much.
Y/N stepped forward, voice firm despite her fear. “He’s telling the truth. They’re after us. They won’t stop.”
Natasha’s eyes flicked to Bucky, noticing the way his focus never left Y/N, the tether’s subtle pulse between them. “You’ve been trained,” she said softly. “By them.”
“Yes,” Bucky admitted. “Soldat.”
Steve’s eyes widened slightly, a cold recognition flashing in them. “Wait… James? James Barnes?” His voice shook almost imperceptibly, heart hammering as memories surged—memories of Brooklyn, the war, promises, and a name long thought lost.
Bucky tensed, wary. “Who are you?”
Steve took a step forward, voice both hesitant and charged. “I… I thought you were gone. I thought—after the mission… after everything…” His words faltered. Shock, grief, and disbelief wove through his tone. “You’re alive. You’re him.”
Bucky’s expression didn’t change immediately—Soldat was still there—but Y/N noticed the tension, the flicker of humanity that surfaced for a fraction of a second. The tether pulsed stronger, as if sensing Steve’s recognition of the truth.
“Steve…” Natasha warned softly. “We don’t have time. Focus on keeping her safe.”
Steve swallowed hard, his gaze still locked on Bucky. “I—just… I didn’t expect to see you. Alive.”
Bucky finally let a flicker of acknowledgment pass through his face. “I’m here now. That’s all that matters.”
The moment of recognition passed quickly—Hydra operatives approached—and the focus shifted back to survival. But Steve’s shock lingered, a silent acknowledgment of a past friend reborn, tethered to the only person who could anchor him to humanity again.
Sam lowered his weapon slightly. “You’re not HYDRA anymore. You’re just a man trying to protect someone.”
Bucky’s hands flexed. “Exactly.”
The first Hydra operative appeared, emerging from a side alley. Natasha moved instantly, neutralizing the threat with precise strikes. Bucky followed her lead, metal arm swinging, taking down operatives with lethal efficiency—but always with Y/N in mind.
Steve took point, coordinating their movements, ensuring that Bucky and Y/N remained protected. Sam covered their rear, eyes constantly scanning.
Y/N’s chest heaved, her hands gripping Bucky’s arm as they ducked behind a corner. “I… I can’t believe this,” she whispered.
“You can,” Bucky said, voice low, brushing hair from her face. “Because I won’t let anything happen to you.”
The tether pulsed violently as another Hydra operative approached. Natasha noticed. “There’s… something between you two,” she murmured to Steve. “Unnatural, but powerful. Keep them safe.”
Bucky’s jaw tightened. He didn’t need explanation. The tether guided him; instinct and obsession intertwined. Every movement was protective, every strike measured.
After the operatives were neutralized, Steve finally spoke directly to Bucky. “You’re with us now. We’ll help you protect her. But you have to trust us.”
Bucky hesitated. Trust was fragile, a commodity long stolen by HYDRA. But Y/N’s hand on his, tether pulsing, reminded him that some bonds were undeniable.
“I trust her,” he said. “And I won’t fail again.”
They retreated to a temporary safe location, a quiet floor of an abandoned building repurposed by the Avengers. Bucky and Y/N huddled together, exhaustion and adrenaline leaving them raw and vulnerable.
“I never thought… I’d feel safe,” Y/N said softly, tracing the line of his metal arm. “Not after everything.”
“You’re safe,” Bucky replied, voice gentle, still low and roughened by months of torment. “As long as I’m here, you will be.”
The tether pulsed faintly, synchronizing with their heartbeats. The Avengers watched quietly, understanding more than words could say. Something unexplainable connected these two, something deeper than loyalty, fear, or even survival.
Bucky’s eyes darkened, shadowed with the weight of the past but brightened by Y/N’s presence. “HYDRA will come again,” he said. “And when they do… we’ll be ready.”
For the first time in decades, James Barnes felt a spark of hope. Not as Soldat. Not as a weapon. As a man tethered to the only person who could make him feel whole.
18+ Summary: Bucky Soulmate AU. You get your soulmate's name at a young age. Much younger than most. And it's definitely not someone you expected it to be.
Triggers: Use of Y/N Age gap (CA:TWS Bucky x 18 y.o. reader), swearing, canon and non canon violence, Bucky/Winter Soldier, angst, fluff, drug mentions, swearing
Masterlist
If anyone wants to be tagged I will make a tag list😊
He could smell the rot in the safe house. The old smell of mold and concrete and metal permeated the air. He sat hunched in the corner of the tiny room with his metal arm resting lightly on his knee, assembling and disassembling his gun. His arm hummed softly with every movement tricking him into a false sense of security. His every movement was perfect, practiced. Almost like a machine. But on the inside, he was screaming. He was panicking. He was losing his mind over a silly little girl and a name on her wrist.
Y/N L/N...
Your name burned into his skin as if he threw his hand into flames. Everywhere he looked you were there, and HYDRA had noticed.
“Soldat!” His handler yelled, walking over to him quickly. He yanked his head back by his hair and the back of Bucky’s head smashed into the wall leaving him slightly dizzy. “What the hell was that Soldat? You failed your mission! You are a weapon. You are a liability if you do not comply with your mission tasks. You do remember what happens to liabilities, yes?”
Bucky did his best to nod.
“Words Soldat!”
“Yes. I will not fail again.”
The handler roughly threw Bucky’s head back down.
“See that you don’t.”
The next few days were brutal. He almost would have rather have had to go and have his memory wiped again. He knelt for hours on end, cuffs biting into his wrists while icy cold water was poured over him. He was hung by chains, cuffs digging into his flesh. He barely slept, and was given just enough food to stay alive. HYDRA wanted to break him. Fully, completely, because even though they had done their job of breaking him decades ago something had started to break through the surface. Something that looked to close to hope. Something like you.
Y/N...
Your name danced across his mind like smoke. Every thought, every heartbeat, every breath, even the shadows seemed to hold your name. He had known you before he had seen you. He had felt you before you whispered his name to him. At least he was sure that was his name. James B. Barnes. They had never told him his name. Never called him by it. It felt right when you had said it. Even HYDRA’s cruelty couldn’t erase the memory of you from his mind.
He would find you. Even if it killed him.
He slowly started being sent on missions again. These were to test his loyalty and obedience. Surveillance, infiltration and distraction however, each one with a twist. Any lapses and there was an immediate punishment: lashes across his back, tightening of the metal cuffs or verbal degradation.
But the draw to you pulled harder at him still. Every home, every light, every car, even stray cat, reminded him of you. He wondered what you were doing. If you possibly lived in one of those houses. If you drove that car over there. He searched through civilians obsessively trying to find you again. His hallucinations eventually blurred with reality and he could have sworn he felt her. He felt the burn on his wrist. The burning of her eyes as she watched him from behind.
HYDRA noticed. Of course they did. Mission errors and minor hesitations were documented and questioned. He lied, covered up, and mostly survived. But every day under the light of the moon he planned his inevitable reunion with you. Every route he would take through the city, every patrol, and alley way became an exercise. He stalked you without you knowing, making sure both you and HYDRA never found out.
One fateful night he finally spotted you.
You moved quickly through the streets, dying to get home. Your sleeves covered you wrists as per usual and your hair covered your face, eyes wide with apprehension. HYDRA operatives followed you subtely, unaware that the Winter Soldier was already there. Protecting what was his.
Bucky followed you from the rooftops and alleyways. All senses heightened, that burning tether burning beneath his skin guiding every decision. He watched a HYDRA operative slip through the crowd toward you, weapon raised, and reacted instinctively.
He dropped from the rooftop, landing silently behind the operative. A swift punch to the throat, a sweep of the legs, and the man fell silently. Another man tried to flank him. He twisted midair, disarming and incapacitating him in one motion. Bullets ricocheted around them. Glass shattered. Metal clanged. Every step precise, every strike protective. All that mattered was that you were safe.
Y/N barely realized what had happened. But she felt it. The tether had flared. She whispered his name quietly. James...
The abandoned museum became their battleground. HYDRA agents flooded the hallways, shouting orders, boots echoing. Bucky moved with deadly, practiced precision, metal arm glinting in the moonlight, limbs striking with surgical accuracy.
A huge operative lunged at Y/N. Bucky’s metal hand intercepted the weapon, jerking it away as he slammed the man into a display. Glass exploded, shards glittering across the floor. Another operative tried to tackle him from behind. He twisted, slammed the man into a column and turned to protect her.
Bullets ricocheted. Knives skidded across marble floors, Bucky spun, grabbed one operative mid-lunge and slammed him into the wall, Every movement was guided by the tether. Protecting her, keeping her alive, tethering himself to something human amidst the chaos.
Y/N watched in fear, eyes wide, trembling, but somehow trust growing more with each move.
“Why...why are you protecting me?” you whispered.
“Because I...I can’t least anything happen to you,” he said, voice low, raw, almost breaking. “You’re mine. And I’m yours. I can’t lose you. I won’t.”
Recognition flared in your eyes. The tether, burning into you beneath your sleeve pulled you to him tighter. You had known, always, even if you hadn’t understood.
Finally the last operative fell. Silence settled over the wrecked museum, only the hum of hydraulics and the thrum of the tether remaining.
Y/N approached him cautiously, hand brushing against his. His breath hitched softly and he flinched slightly. You pulled your hand back and he reached back for yours. The mark glowed faintly beneath your sleeve. “It’s...real,” you whispered.
“Yes,” Bucky said, voice hoarse. “It’s always been real, And I’ve been waiting for you.”
You ran together, weaving through dark streets. Every glance and touch reinforced by the tether the inevitability of their bond.
Safe in an abandoned safe house, Y/N curled against his chest, wrist resting lightly on his metal arm. Pulse thrummed in sync with his own.
“I can’t...believe we found each other. I thought you were dead,” you whispered.
“I knew we would. Nothing could stop this.”
You pushed yourself off him a little and brushed your hand across his face.
Had a lil narcoleptic episode today and my niece told my very worried friend who thought I had just died “Don’t worry! Auntie has Necromancy!” and then WALKED AWAY without explaining further leaving my confused friend like
18+ Summary: Bucky Soulmate AU. You get your soulmate's name at a young age. Much younger than most. And it's definitely not someone you expected it to be.
Ok so I know I have a really bad habit of finishing fanfics that I write and I'm incredibly sorry about that. I get to a point that I'm just kinda like welp I dunno what I'm doing anymore BUT I love the whole soulmate trope and I've actually taken a lot of time and mapped this whole thing out and have everything planned so I am DETERMINED to finish this. You will get a fully completed fic from me FINALLY. 😭
Triggers: Use of Y/N Age gap (CA:TWS Bucky x 18 y.o. reader), swearing, canon and non canon violence, Bucky/Winter Soldier, angst, fluff, drug mentions, swearing
The triggers are general, they may change in parts and will be noted in every part.
18+ Summary: Bucky Soulmate AU. You get your soulmate's name at a young age. Much younger than most. And it's definitely not someone you expected it to be.
Ok so I know I have a really bad habit of finishing fanfics that I write and I'm incredibly sorry about that. I get to a point that I'm just kinda like welp I dunno what I'm doing anymore BUT I love the whole soulmate trope and I've actually taken a lot of time and mapped this whole thing out and have everything planned so I am DETERMINED to finish this. You will get a fully completed fic from me FINALLY. 😭
Triggers: Use of Y/N Age gap (CA:TWS Bucky x 18 y.o. reader), swearing, canon and non canon violence, Bucky/Winter Soldier, angst, fluff, drug mentions, swearing
Masterlist
You had known his name before you had ever seen him. You were born with his name seared onto your wrist. It was never heard of before. A baby with a soulmate? It had to be a mistake. And yet, there it was, clear as day, raw and red.
You got made fun of it growing up. Who had a soulmate at 5? Who was promised to someone at 10? It was basically an arranged marriage. When you were 9 you had started wearing long sleeve shirts everyday. No matter the season. It could be over 100 degrees outside and you would be wearing a long sleeve shirt, holed up in your house. You couldn't look at the name by the time you were 8, but it haunted your every waking moment. James B. Barnes. When you were 16 you got curious. You looked him up. And just your luck, the only person matching a James B. Barnes had died in World War 2, on a mission with Captain America.
“Oh, come on!” You sighed.
You didn't do anymore research on him after that.
2 years later your senior high school class went on a trip to the Smithsonian to see the Captain America exhibit. You rolled your eyes when you found out. The universe hated you clearly. You didn't want to go. You didn't want to see the James Barnes exhibit. You didn't want to feel closer to him. You didn't want to have an inkling of what he was like, of who you would never get to know. You didn't want to see his beautiful face and long for someone you didn't know because you knew you would if you saw him again. That's what the mark did. It made you crave your other half until you finally united. You begged your parents and the school to let you skip it. But it was mandatory, unfortunately. 'It will be a great experience!' Your parents had said. 'Unfortunately it's part of the curriculum and makes up three-fourths of your grade Miss Y/L/N.' Your teacher told you.
Three-fourths of your grade and a lifetime of pain.
The day of the trip you knew something was going to happen. You didn’t know what but you could feel something would, deep in your bones. You tried again to get out of the field trip but your parents saw right through it and your mother yanked your blanket off of you and practically dragged you out of bed insisting that this trip would be good for you.
“You never go anywhere, sweetheart. It’ll be good for you to get out and do something for once. Even if it is school mandated.” She told you while packing your lunch which you had insisted years ago that you were quite capable of doing yourself, but she wouldn’t have it.
You rolled your eyes and begrudgingly took your lunch bag from her.
“I’d go anywhere except the museum mom. His exhibit is there.” You looked at the floor and whispered the last sentence.
Your mother froze. You didn’t talk about his name but when you did she knew it was serious.
“Oh. I see. I understand why you don’t want to go. I know you’re nervous, but it will work out.”
You sighed and grabbed your backpack, completely foregoing breakfast and walked out the door towards your personal hell.
Your class exited the bus, everyone excited about seeing the Captain America exhibit. Most of them had even already seen it but were delighted to be able to go again.
You entered the building and soon you were standing in front of the Howling Commandos. And there he was. Right behind Captain America staring off into the distance with the other men. You started to tear up. You couldn’t do this. You weren’t ready for it. All you saw was a picture on a wall and a few articles on the internet and it was too much.
“It’s sad the hot one died young.” One of the girls, Madison, said.
Your head snapped up and you wiped your eyes.
“Have some respect, Madison.”
Madison rolled her eyes. “C’mon. I mean why are we even wasting time here. They’re dead.”
You glared at her.
“Ever hear of not speaking ill of the dead? It’s rude.”
She tilted her head like she had uncovered your secret and maybe she had. “He’s dead Y/N. I mean, really, you’re acting like you’re going to meet him or something Get over it.”
You felt your face grow warm and you fiddled with the hem of your sleeve and mumbled “He matters to me. It’s...personal.”
Tiffany looked you up and down. “Personal? Oh pah-lease,” she enunciated, “a soldier who died seventy years ago matters to you? You’re one of those people with those weird historical figure crushes aren’t you. Ugh. Weird.” She waved her hand dramatically as if she could will the thought of it away.
You sighed. If only she knew how close to the truth she actually was. She’d have a field day. It would be a shit show.
You wished she would walk away but of course she didn’t. She stayed and picked at you and your ‘strange obsession’ incessantly for the next 10 minutes.
And then you felt it. That gut feeling you felt when you woke up that morning. The one you felt in your bones. You felt the heat crawl through your left hand up to your wrist and you did your best to hold in the moan as his name burned hot and deep into your skin and soul.
Your pulse quickened.
He was here.
You couldn’t believe it.
He was dead.
Right?
There was no way he could possibly be here. But then you looked over at the mannequin in the corner and it looked a little too real.
You pushed Madison out of the way.
“Hey!” She yelled at you. You ignored her.
You got to him. He wasn’t a mannequin.
He had long brown hair and wore a mask. He sported a metal arm as well and you were dying to know the story behind that.
His startling blue eyes bore into your soul in almost confusion. Why weren’t you afraid of him? You should be very afraid of him. Everyone was.
“James?” You whispered.
His eyes flicked down to your wrist for a moment, then to his own.
Before he could respond you heard shouting and gun shots. He yanked you out of the way just in time to block a few stray bullets.
Madison peaked out from behind the glass where she was hiding.
“Y/N are you insane?! Run!”
Your legs wouldn’t move, and you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the man standing in front of you. The man who was supposed to be dead.
He took a step closer. Every step was deliberate and yet you swore you saw you saw who he was before. The younger version of him who had died so many years ago on that train. The one your mark had been longing for.
One of the agents ran at him. He didn’t even bat an eye. Disarmed, incapacitated and silent. It shouldn’t have been as attractive as it was. He was clearly experienced in fighting. He was precise. Yet, he didn’t lunge for you. Not once.
And then, almost as quickly as he had appeared, he was gone. Dragged away by another agent.
You fell to the floor breathing heavily, your wrist still burning. You didn’t notice Madison had tiptoed her way over to you trying to step over the shattered glass.
“You’re absolutely insane, you know that?” she yelled, hauling you towards the exit. “That...android...person....WHATEVER...he’s dangerous! What did we even just see?! I’m hallucinating right? This is just some group acid trip right?”
You gulped and nodded. “I know exactly what I saw and it definitely was not an acid trip.”
Madison rolled her eyes. “Oh yeah and what would that be?”
“My soulmate.”
Madison froze. “You...wait...WHAT?! You can’t be serious! There’s no FUCKING WAY THAT thing is your soulmate!”
You ignored her. What other choice did you have? She would only ask questions you didn’t have the answers to or were not willing to give.
All that mattered was your soulmate was alive and he was being used as a weapon.
The rest of the day blurred. Alarms blared and police were called. You were asked questions you weren’t even sure how to answer. But you couldn’t stop seeing him. Even when you closed your eyes. Couldn’t stop feeling the way your wrist burned when he was near and the ache in your heart knowing that it was likely you’d never see him again. But you would never forget that he stepped out of hiding and had taken literal bullets for you, just to meet you.
Summary: Bucky is always watching you. He has to. You're too soft. Too delicate. One wrong move and you'll break. But one day his obsession will get the best of him. After all, he can't run from his past forever.
AN: I've been reading a lot of dark romance lately so that's where this baby was born from.
Cassandra
I don’t know why I said yes to the date with Matthew. He’s a good guy, yeah. He’s not on my team, which is a plus. If we ever broke up I wouldn’t have to see him, not really. But he wasn’t Bucky. There were no flowers. Barely just a hug.
“Thanks for agreeing to come out tonight. I know you probably had to call off your watchdog and that probably wasn’t easy.” Matthew said in the middle of dinner.
I was mid bite of my steak. Bucky?
“My watchdog?” I asked curiously.
“Yeah. You know, Barnes. Always watching you. Following you around everywhere. Sent you that insane amount of roses. Honestly I thought you guys were together. He kinda scares everyone away. He’s kinda strange when it comes to you. Be careful around him.”
I put my fork down. I can take care of myself. This is ridiculous. I picked up my napkin and wiped my mouth carefully and took a sip of my water.
That’s when I saw him. Bucky. Just casually watching from his motorcycle outside. Like he had nothing better to do. Like he was waiting on someone. Like he was waiting for me.
“I’m so sorry Matthew. Suddenly I’m not feeling well. I think I should go.”
Matthew looked confused.
“Oh. I’m sorry, was it something I said? I didn’t mean to offend you. I’m just trying to help you.”
I picked up my purse from the chair next to me and heaved it over my shoulder.
“You didn’t mean to but you did. I can take care of myself. As for Bucky. You just don’t understand him.”
I left before Matthew could say another word.
I walked straight up to Bucky as soon as I stepped foot into the chilly night air.
“Hey doll.” He drawled.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I asked him.
“What? Aren’t you glad to see me?”
My face softened.
“Should I be? You barely say anything to me, you watch me, and then send me a shitton of roses. Only part of that sentence is romantic Buck!”
“You didn’t finish your meal, you must be hungry.” Bucky grumbled.
“Of course I didn’t finish! Your watching me while on a date, mind you, kind of put me off!” I shouted.
I earned some looks from passersby but no one intervened. Good. I didn’t want to find out what would happen if they did.
Bucky placed his flesh hand on the small of my back and tried to lead me towards one of the nearby restaurants.
“No, Bucky! Stop! I don’t want to go!”
Matthew had finally finished his dinner without me and paid and was leaving the restaurant we had been in when he heard me telling Bucky I wasn’t interested in continuing my night with him. He made the mistake of approaching us.
“Hey man. She said she didn’t want to go. No means no.”
Bucky whirled around.
“Michael right?”
Matthew let out a huff.
“It’s Matthew.”
“Michael right.” Bucky continued. “This doesn’t concern you. Leave now and you’ll be able to walk away with your legs in tact.”
Matthew paused. I nodded at him. Trying to let him know it was ok. He should leave if he knew what was good for him.
“No man really.” He shook his head, not letting Bucky get to him. “You gotta let her go.”
Bucky smirked.
“I warned you.”
All I heard was the crack of bones and a piercing scream and Bucky was quickly back to my side ushering me away from a screaming Matthew.
Bucky
She really shouldn’t have let him take her out tonight. Really his broken kneecaps are her fault. He won’t walk right again and when someone asks about it he’ll tell them it’s because he was trying to save someone who ultimately didn’t want to be saved. She didn’t even try to stop the bastard who beat him to a pulp. He won’t mention the fact that she had been his date earlier in the evening though because that would make him look bad. He needed the pity.
Cassandra won’t be seeing him again. Not after tonight.
No. Tonight she was going to learn that she was his. He wasn’t sharing her with anyone anymore. Not her time. Not her space.
I gripped her arm tightly as I led her away from Matthew.
“Did you get the roses I sent you, doll?”
Cassandra shrugged herself out of my grip. Or at the very least tried to.
“I’m not your doll Bucky!”
She toyed with the hem of her sleeve, focusing on the loose thread that had been there for months.
“But you wanna be right Cassie?”
Her face reddened but she remained focused on the thread.
“You can’t just buy me flowers, give me a nickname and expect everything to be fine.”
I nodded. Sure I couldn’t. But I did. And it would be fine.
“Right. Let’s get dinner.”
She sighed.
“Buck, I already told you I’m not hungry anymore.”
The sound of her rumbling stomach betrayed her. She had barely gotten three bites in on that pathetic excuse of a date.
I leaned in closely and whispered in her ear;
“Your stomach says something different.”
She shivered at my proximity and whispered a small;
“Ok.”
I smiled.
“Good girl. Let’s go.”
Cassandra
It was strange having two first dates in one night. That was definitely a first. Both were good. One was a failure and a mistake and the other was…Bucky.
Matthew was fine I guess. Nothing against him. Not really. It was fine until he started spewing nonsense about Bucky being strange. He’s perfect the way he is.
Matthew took me to this fancy place that was up and coming. Working towards the Michelin Stars or something. It was supposed to be really good. Well those three bites I took were very sub par.
Maybe it was the company.
Bucky knows I don’t like that fancy crap. We went and got burgers and then ice cream after. He dropped me off back at my room with a small peck on the forehead and a quiet,
“Get some rest, doll.”
I responded with a smack on his shoulder reminding him “I’m still not your doll, love.”
His lips quirked up at my slipup, but he didn’t say anything. Just…catalogued it.
I shooed him away and wished him a goodnight as I swiped my keycard on the door.
“Goodnight, Bucky.”
I opened my door and got about three steps inside when I got ambushed by Yelena.
“So. Why was Bucky here?”
I rolled my eyes.
“He was saving me from making a mistake with Matthew that’s all.”
Her eyes narrowed into slits. She was angry. The angriest I’d seen her in a long time.
“What I mean is,” I rushed, in order to save myself from her wrath, “Matthew is safe. He's sweet and predictable.”
“Yeah and? What’s wrong with that? That’s a good thing Cass!”
I sighed. Quite dramatically as I flopped down onto the couch in the small living area.
“I don’t want safe. I want adventurous. Living life like there’s no tomorrow.”
Yelena huffed out a breath then put both hands on my shoulders.
“Honey. You go out with Barnes there might not be a tomorrow. Don’t you see that? He’s…unhinged. He’s not well.”
“You sound like Matthew. He called him my watchdog.” I laughed.
“That doesn’t bother you?” She questioned. “That other people see it and think it’s strange?”
I thought about it for a moment. Did I think it was strange that he just followed me around, didn’t say much, sent me an asston of flowers and then interrupted my date out of jealousy? Yes it was strange. But how else was he supposed to get my attention?
“How else was he supposed to get my attention ‘Lena?” I asked her.
She stared at me absolutely dumbfounded.
“What do you mean, how else was he supposed to get your attention?! Maybe speak to you?! Ask your number?! ASK YOU OUT TO DINNER INSTEAD OF STARING YOU DOWN WHILE ON A DATE! Yeah I know about that!”
I sighed.
“It’s not like I was enjoying it anyway.”
Yelena grumbled something in Russian and stalking towards the door. Before she reached it however she told me.
“Ya know what fine. You’ve made your bed now you get to sleep in it, but don’t be surprised when you wake up in a shed in the middle of the woods being tortured to death.”
She looked at the ground.
“I won’t be going to the funeral Cassie. I won’t watch them put you in the ground and look at that fucker pretend like he has no idea what happened to you.”
And then she left. Leaving me alone in the silence.
pixelskylines
romaincrisis
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2087
