Summary: Bucky confronts Zemo, forcing Bucky to confront his feelings for the man who both damaged and held him together.
Warnings: Injuries, Manipulation, Angst
WC: 395
Pairing: Bucky x Zemo
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The facility was cold. The walls hummed faintly with ageing machinery, and Bucky could still smell the whitered blood on the concrete. His wrists were raw from fighting the restraints. He was stronger than the cuffs, sure. But something deeper—something more twisted—kept him still. Kept him tethered to the spot.
Zemo stood across from him, quiet, composed, like always. But there was something uncoiling in his eyes now. Something dangerous.
“You’ve made your decision then?” Bucky asked hoarsely. “You’ll finish what you started. Leave me in the ground when you're done.”
Zemo didn’t answer immediately. He just walked forward—each step echoing off the walls like the strike of a gavel. There was no mask of politeness left. No civility. Just heat. Fury. Claim.
He stopped inches away, staring at Bucky like he was both relic and weapon. Worship and ruin.
“You still don’t understand,” Zemo murmured. “After everything.”
Bucky’s jaw clenched. “I understand you used me.”
“No,” Zemo said sharply. “They used you. Hydra. SHIELD. The Avengers. Every one of them saw you as a burden, a threat, a project to fix. I didn’t. I saw you, James.”
Bucky turned his face away.
Zemo grabbed his chin, forcing him back. “I listened to your screams. Held you through your silence. I picked through the wreckage of your mind and pieced you back together—not to break you, James. To free you.”
“You caged me.”
“I kept you.”
The words rang out, loud and final. Bucky’s breathing stuttered.
Zemo’s grip tightened, his voice dropping to something low and frayed. “You’re mine,” he hissed. “And I’ll burn everything down before I let you go. Do you understand me?”
Bucky stared at him, chest rising and falling like he’d just crawled out of war. Maybe he had.
“You already burned everything,” he whispered.
Zemo leaned closer to whisper. “Not everything. Not yet.”
There was something terrifying in his eyes then—something raw, intimate, hungry. And Bucky hated himself for the way part of him didn’t flinch. The part that had been twisted too many times, broken open too many nights, until the heat of Zemo’s hands felt like the only thing left that could hold him together.
“Let me go,” Bucky whispered.
But Zemo only smiled, soft and sad. “You don’t really want that.”
And for the first time… Bucky wasn’t sure he was wrong.
A/N: Really short Chapter, didn't want it to be to much because it wouldn't flow nicely, so its not as long as the first part lol. Nevertheless I hope you enjoy!!
Warnings: Mentions of blood, sharp objects (knife's, needles), Mentions of graphic death's
Pt. 1
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The Tower wasn’t exactly home, but it had become something close.
Two months of adjusting to its endless glass windows, the faint hum of JARVIS in the walls, and the constant buzz of Avengers rushing in and out had worn the strangeness down to something almost ordinary.
The welcome had been awkward. Tony was the first to speak up welcoming you to the tower though his only pressing concern about your arrival was that he’d have to reprogram the security system to recognize your face. Other than that he didn’t speak to you much. You met Natasha 3 days into living in the tower when she let you know you were using your room. You apologized but she didn’t seem to mind seeing as though she had a 3 week long assignment in Russia so wouldn’t need it; she reassured you that by the time she was back Tony could arrange her different sleeping arrangements which made you feel better.
Now it was like second nature. The mornings where you woke up expecting silence, only to hear Tony’s voice echoing down the hallway, were fewer now. You no longer jumped when Sam would visit and knock on her door or when Natasha brushed past you in the kitchen. You'd learned where everything was, who kept which snacks in which cabinets, and that Clint had an annoying habit of somehow hiding in the walls. You were sure he was watching from the vents. Though he denied it everytime. How else would anyone know where you hid your favourite snacks?
But most of all, you learned to breathe again.
And that was mostly because of Steve.
He had been the first one you trusted—really trusted. Not in the shallow way you pretend to when you’re scared of being alone, but in the deep, instinctive way that told you he was safe. He didn’t push. He didn’t prod. He simply existed like a solid tree, tall and true planted amongst the chaos he never fell or waivered, and somehow you found herself reaching for that steadiness more than you ever meant to.
You’d even found a routine of helping the Avengers. At first, it was small things: helping them carry boxes down to storage, sitting during meetings as they went over reports, making notes, you even kept Steve company, listening when he explained old war stories in his careful, measured voice. Then it was bigger: helping Tony organize the shared spaces of the Tower, creating systems that only you and Steve seemed to appreciate. You caught yourself laughing more than you had in years, not because life was suddenly easy but because the comfort of the Avengers made it feel possible.
Little by little, you'd even started letting fragments of your past slip through the cracks you usually kept sealed shut. Never the full story, never the one name she couldn’t bear to speak, but pieces. Enough that Steve knew Hydra had taken you family from your. Enough that sometimes, late at night, when your breathing went shallow and panic pressed against your chest, Steve was the one you sought out in the kitchen, knowing he wouldn’t ask questions you weren't ready to answer.
He just sat with you. That was enough. Someone to trust. Steve was always there with a shoulder to lean on and an ear to lend
Until the day he came back from a mission, and everything shattered.
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The Tower door hissed open, and you caught sight of him, shield slung across his back, hair damp with sweat, uniform torn at the shoulder. His jaw was set, the way it always was when something rattled him. You’d been waiting in the lounge with a half-read book, pretending you weren’t watching the door for him.
“You’re back early,” you said, closing the book a little too quickly, setting it aside. You often waited for Steve to get back from missions. You felt more at ease when you knew he was back safe, you wouldn’t trust anyone else’s word, you'd have to see him yourself to be sure.
There was something in his tone, something that set your nerves humming. He dropped the shield against the wall and crossed the room, sitting on the armrest across from you. For a second, he looked like he wasn’t sure where to start.
“Did you… know him?” he asked suddenly.
Your stomach dropped. “Know who?”
“The guy I fought today. He—he moved differently. Like he wasn’t just another Hydra agent. Like he… mattered.”
Your throat tightened, but you forced yourself to shake your head. “I don’t know who you mean.”
You hesitated before asking.
“What did he look like?” You couldn’t hide the trembling in your voice when you asked, you feared the worst. If it was him it means he was still at Hydra’s whims they hadn’t let him out for a long time. The Avengers must be a big enough threat that they plan to send him to eliminate them.
Steve studied you for a long moment, then said quietly,”Long hair, couldn’t see his face he wore a mask, black face paint too so I couldn’t see his eyes”
You began to shake. No. Hydra had lots of Super soldiers, the odds that it was him.. Not as slim as you’d like to imagine. Steve’s next words rang through your ears like a blade scraping against bone.
“He had a metal arm.”
The words slammed into you like a fist.
Your chest locked up, air sticking halfway in your lungs, vision narrowing until all you could hear was the blood rushing in your ears. The room tilted. The walls pressed in. That image of the arm flashed behind your eyes, cold, merciless steel dripping with blood that had once been your family’s.
“No,” you whispered, shaking your head harder, as if that could erase it. “No, I… I- don’t”
But you did.
–
Your voice had been nothing but a broken thread when you whispered, “Please… please.”
The soldier’s shadow loomed, the muzzle of his gun pressed cold and merciless against your chest. You couldn’t look anywhere but his eyes, icy, flat, unblinking. Why did you do it? The words scraped from your throat, small and desperate, more a sob than a question. You feared turning your eyes away from him, the walls painted with splatters of blood, your father’s, your mother’s all mixing together into a puddle of dark red liquid slowly seeping into the rug in the parlor. You stared into his eyes hoping to find anything, some sliver of recognition. Why did you do it? You asked again.
He didn’t answer. Didn’t even blink. Instead, the click of metal filled the air as he cocked the gun. For a heartbeat, you accepted it, you were going to die here, on this floor, beside the blood of the people you loved.
But the shot never landed. The blast tore through the wall just past your head, close enough that your skin stung with dust and smoke. Your eyes flew open, confusion tangling with terror. The icy blue eyes you’d been staring at waivered for a fraction of a second, if you blinked you’d miss it but the eyes of the cold blooded assassin shook for just a second. Recognition. A sliver of the human left in his mind.
"Why?" you whispered, weaker now.
This time, his response was brutal. The butt of the gun cracked against your skull, white-hot pain exploding behind your eyes. The world tilted, faded, but you fought to stay awake. Through the ringing in your ears, you caught the sharp static of Russian voices in his comm,
“Все готово, солдат?” The voice sharp and uncaring.
He stared down at you, unreadable, then muttered one word into the comm. “Готово.” Done.
And he turned away.
You lay there, barely conscious, vision blurring as he stepped over your little brother’s body without a second glance. Something inside you splintered at the sight, and then the darkness swallowed you whole.
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Your body jolted back to the present, breath ripping through your lungs. The memory burned behind your eyes, so vivid you could still taste gunpowder in the back of your throat.
Steve’s expression shifted instantly, panic flashing across his features as he leaned forward. “Hey, hey, it’s okay. Breathe. You’re safe. It’s just me. You’re safe.”
But you couldn’t breathe. Not properly. Your hands clawed against the couch cushion, searching for grounding that wasn’t there, until Steve’s voice broke through the haze again, gentle but firm.
“Look at me. Just look at me.”
Your eyes locked on his, blue and steady, anchoring you. Nothing like the cold, heartless, icy blue eyes of the soldier. His eyes were warm and caring, like the embrace of the ocean. His hand brushed yours, not forcing, just there. Slowly, painfully, the world tilted back into place, though the trembling in your body refused to stop.
“I…” You tried, but the words cracked in your throat. “I can’t. I can’t talk about it.”
“You don’t have to,” he said quickly. “Not now. Not until you’re ready. Just… don’t keep it inside forever, okay? Whenever you’re ready, I’ll listen. Always.”
Tears burned your eyes. You managed the faintest nod. “Okay.”
Steve exhaled, tension draining from his shoulders. “Good. Because I’ve got somewhere I need to be tonight, but I don’t want you thinking I’m walking away from this. From you. I’m not. You hear me?”
Your lips trembled, but you whispered, “I hear you.”
“Good.” He stood, sliding the shield back onto his back. For a moment, he hesitated, like he wanted to say more, then settled on a small, reassuring smile.
“I need to leave tomorrow to go on a follow up mission”
Your eyes darted like you didn’t want him to leave. He recognized this
“Don’t worry I'll be back soon. Get some rest, alright?”
You nodded, though the hollow ache in your chest said rest would be impossible.
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The Tower felt wrong. You hadn’t slept the entire night. You were alone on your level, Tony and Bruce in the basement working on a project. Clint was nowhere to be found. Steve, Natasha and Sam out. You hated being alone, you’d gotten so accustomed to being surrounded by others that now the silence was too quiet. Too heavy with shadows.
You lasted all of fifteen minutes before whispering into the air, “JARVIS?”
“Yes, miss?”
Your voice shook. “Can… Can you give me a ride to Steve?”
“Captain Rogers did not authorize your accompaniment.”
“I don’t care,” you snapped, surprising yourself with the sharp edge in your voice. “I can’t stay here alone. Please.”
A pause, then JARVIS replied, “Very well. A car is waiting downstairs.”
Relief crashed through you as you grabbed your jacket and bolted for the elevator.
The city blurred past the car windows as it hummed across bridges and avenues. Your fingers twisted nervously in your lap, heart racing. You kept whispering to yourself that Steve would be fine, that you just needed to see him, to remind yourself he was real. You had to admit the noise and bustle of the city did distract you. Then you heard something you were not familiar with.
An explosion hit.
A thunderous boom rolled across the skyline, rattling the glass. The car jolted slightly as debris rained down in the distance. Your eyes flew wide, heart leaping to your throat.
“Jarvis—”
“I have identified the blast site,” JARVIS interrupted calmly. “Captain Rogers and Agent Romanoff are within proximity.”
Your pulse spiked. You leaned forward, staring out the windshield, and sure enough, you caught sight of smoke curling above the rooftops. The car screeched to a halt as twisted debris blocked the road ahead.
“I’m afraid this is as far as we go, miss,” JARVIS said apologetically.
You shoved the door open before he could finish. “It’s fine. I’ll go on foot.”
Your boots pounded against the pavement as you ran toward the smoke. Around the corner, you caught sight of them: Steve, shield raised, exchanging blows with a man who moved too fast, too sharp, too familiar. Natasha darted in and out of the fray, red hair a blur.
Your lungs constricted. Every instinct screamed to run, but your legs locked. Instead, you ducked behind the corner of a shattered building, pressing yourself against the cold concrete.
From there, you could see him.
The glint of metal where his arm caught the light. The exact nightmare you had spent years trying to bury.
And suddenly, the air in your chest was gone again.
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The world felt like it was still shaking when Steve finally found you. Smoke clung to the air, the faint acrid sting of fire making your lungs ache, and his silhouette appeared through it all—shield at his back, chest heaving, eyes searching.
“Y/N?” His voice cut through the chaos. Relief. Frustration. Fear. He jogged over and stopped short, staring at you like he didn’t quite believe you were standing there. “What are you doing here?”
You swallowed, fingers curling into the hem of your shirt. “I… I couldn’t stay in the tower. I just—Jarvis– I drove– he drove and I just– it was too quiet– and..”
“Hey it's okay I’ve got it..” The hard lines in his face softened. He wasn’t angry, he was worried. “You shouldn’t have been anywhere near this,” he said, quieter this time. Still, he held out a hand and helped you up. “Come on. Let’s get you back.”
The car ride back to the Tower was silent, but the silence weighed differently on each of you. Steve kept glancing at you like there was something he needed to say but wasn’t sure how. By the time you were inside the Tower, settled into the quieter corner of one of the common rooms, he made sure you were curled up in your favourite armchair and brought you a cup of hot tea that he knew calmed your nerves. You could tell he was coaxing you making sure you were relaxed before speaking, you let him. Once he believed you’d settled down, that's when he finally spoke.
“Can I ask you something?” His tone was gentle, but there was an urgency beneath it. Just as you expected.
You hesitated, nervous already, but nodded. “Okay.” Preparing yourself for the question you were sure was to follow.
He leaned forward slightly, elbows on his knees, studying you with that piercing kind of honesty only Steve Rogers could carry. “You do know him, don’t you?”
Your chest tightened, panic clawing at the edges of your composure. For a second you thought about lying, denying it again, but the look in his eyes, earnest, desperate for truth, made the words stick in your throat. You drew in a shaky breath, forcing yourself to be steady, for him if not for yourself.
“Yes.” The word cracked like glass.
His jaw tightened. “What’s his name?”
“They called him…” You faltered, throat dry. Your mind dragged you back to icy corridors, Russian voices, the name like a curse etched into your memory. “They called him Зимний солдат. The Winter Soldier.” The name resurfaced. One you promised never to utter again. It felt like swallowing shards of broken glass, the feeling of scratching, and cutting at your throat.
Steve’s gaze didn’t waver. “His real name.”
A chill ran through you. “I don’t know,” you whispered. “He doesn’t have one. We just called him Soldat.”
“No. It’s–” His voice sharpened, but not at you, at himself, at the situation. He straightened, and let out a deep sigh almost as though the weight of this revelation was something he had to stand against. “He has a name.”
Your stomach flipped, fear prickling your skin. He must have seen it, because he immediately softened, reaching a hand toward you like he wanted to steady you. “Sorry. I just… I think I know him.” His throat worked as he swallowed, words heavy with emotion. “Anything you can tell me. Anything. Might help me figure it out.”
For a long moment, you just stared at him, torn between dread and the silent warmth of trust the two of you had built these last few months. Finally, you spoke, your voice low but certain.
“He’s their perfect soldier. He’s supposed to be like you.”
Steve blinked, stunned. “Like me?”
You nodded faintly. “Super-soldier. Weapon. He doesn’t get to choose who he is. They… they built him into something they could control.” Your chest ached as you admitted it aloud. “I was supposed to be his underling. Train beneath him. But I failed. I wasn’t strong enough, ruthless enough. I couldn’t handle the serum. Even with everything that happened, I was lucky. They didn’t treat me like they did him.”
Steve's eyes narrowed slightly, not with suspicion but with focus. “What do you mean? How did they treat him?”
Your nails dug into your palms. The memory of it was jagged, cutting even now. “They’d brainwash him. Every time he disobeyed, every time he questioned who he was… they erased him. Wiped his mind clean. So they could start anew.”
Steve froze. The silence stretched long between you, his expression shifting, shock, sorrow, rage. All those emotions yet you respected how he still kept calm for you. He was strong. “Wait.” His voice was hoarse, raw. “So.. he doesn’t remember?”
Your lips trembled, but you forced yourself to nod. “Most of the time, no. They break him down until there’s nothing left but the orders. Then they put him back together again. Over and over.”
His chest rose and fell, and you could see the war in his eyes. For a moment, the indestructible Captain America looked like he might splinter under the weight of what you’d just given him. But then he looked at you again, and all that storm turned into something steadier.
“Thank you Y/N” He exhaled a shaky breath.
“You don’t understand how much this helps.” His voice was quiet, but steady. His hand reached across the space between you, warm against your trembling one. “You’re very brave, Y/N. Braver than you think.”
Your throat tightened. No words came out.
And then he pulled you into him. His arms wrapped around you with a strength that didn’t suffocate, it held. You sank into him, trembling, silent. The tears didn’t come, but the pressure in your chest eased for the first time in hours.
Steve pressed his chin lightly against your hair. “We’ll figure this out. Together. For both of us.”
You didn’t answer, but you let yourself believe him. Just for now.
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Hope you liked it reminder my requests are open and lmk if you wanna be tagged in any of my works!! (ˆᗜˆ˵ )
Synopsis: a nightmare triggers Bucky’s past and the reader has to somehow calm him down from attacking her.
The room was dark, Bucky’s hands were tied down by metal cuffs his whole body restrained as a man stood in front of him “soldier. It didn’t have to be like this.” The man spoke, he wore a long white lab coat. He was a man Bucky didn’t recognise one bit and that was unusual for him, Bucky could remember everyone. “You brought this upon yourself. Okay, bring her in.” As the man moved to the side Bucky watched as you were dragged in- hair a complete mess but that was no comparison to how much fear was in your eyes. He let out a shaky breath his fingers clenching as he grasped at anything he could. He wanted to say something tell them to stop and not to lay a finger on you but the mouth guard in his mouth refrained him from speaking up. “As soon as I say the words in order you will obey me, you will kill her.” The man spoke eyes cold as he stared at Bucky. He shook his head rapidly trying to stop him from speaking trying to get you the hell out of there:
“Longing,”
“Rusted”
“Furnace”
“Daybreak” Bucky’s breathing was uneven his eyes widening his jaw clenched tightly as grunts of pain and resistance left his lips. These assholes had no mercy did they? “Stop it you’re hurting him!” Your voice echoed around the room being the only thing he could truly grasp onto as the last thing to stop him from turning into the monster within “seventeen, benign, nine, homecoming, one…” an agonised cry fell from Bucky’s mouth his eyes full of rage as he struggled in his restraints as he began falling into this character these… monsters… had created. The puppet they had moulded into a good listener. An obedient cruel heartless monster. “Freight car” and as he spoke that was the last thing the winter soldier needed to hear, Bucky escaping from his restraints as he stood up his stature strong and confident as he looked at you as if you were a piece of meat and he was a predator awaiting to pounce “Bucky…” you whispered fearfully. “Kill her.” The man demanded and you watched in silent horror as Bucky charged at you in an inhumanly speed…
“Bucky!”
Bucky gasped awake sitting up sweat covering his entire body, little droplets of sweat trailing down his forehead as he panted hands resting on the material of the bed as he struggled to comprehend what was going on, “Bucky hey… hey…” your arms immediately wrapped around him but he pushed you away with a force he didn’t even realise as you tumbled off of the edge of the bed but managed to get your balance, “no no… n-no… I can’t. Don’t touch me… I don’t want to kill you.” He shook his head not even looking at you fearing that if he did he would kill you. Your heart sank as you gazed at him worriedly “you won’t b-“ “YES I will… he will… I..” he couldn’t even finish his sentence visibly out of breath as he closed his eyes tight trying to open his lungs more, his dog tags skimmed against his skin slightly clattering against each other with every breath he took his metal hand clenching over and over again as he tried to calm down. “Did you have a nightmare again?” You asked cautiously but he didn’t reply to you and you carefully moved to his side as you slowly reached out attempting to rest a comforting hand on his shoulder, you had often dealt with Bucky when he was like this but not to this extent. This was something Steve was more able to handle.
As your hand rested upon his shoulder he flinched and in one quick movement his large metal hand clasped around your wrist keeping a tight grip on it as he looked into your eyes, you could see the fear and torment. The grip was so tight that it hurt but you remained calm “Buck… it’s me.” You rubbed your free hand up and down his back slowly and gently not saying anything for a while, he clearly didn’t know what was going on and he wasn’t going to hurt you.. he was just trying to get a hold of himself. Realise that he indeed was still in control. “It’s me… y/n… it’s me… look at me.” You spoke softly and as he stared at you realisation soon clicked as he realised he had full control over himself a shaky breath leaving his lips as the grip on you loosened before he sat up bowing his head his hands resting against his head as he tried to calm his breathing down his body trembling and you carefully moved your hand to rest on his back as you began soothing against his skin, neither of you had to say a word to realise how much he was going through right now. He just needed you and you’d be right there for him. His body soon weakened against yours as he leaned into you allowing your touch to sooth him completely your lips soon pressing soothing kisses against his forehead, your fingertips smoothing some of his hair off of his forehead as you gazed into his eyes
“It’s okay Bucky… I promise you.” You assured with a comforting smile and he nodded, the tears in his eyes were visible but he tried his hardest to be strong. You both stayed silent as you simply held him, helping him calm down slowly but surely his breathing soon calming down as his eyes fluttered shut a soft shaky breath leaving his lips before he rolled onto his side his arms snaking around your waist as he pulled you close “don’t wanna hurt you.” He whispered against your skin and you lightly shook your head, fingers threading through his hair “you won’t. I promise.” You said softly, noticing the frown on his face “how do you know that I won’t hurt you?” He asked softly concern evident in his voice and you exhaled softly “because I know you wont.” You simply said and he nodded his head, he was plagued with nightmares and memories of killing all those innocent people… he couldn’t catch a break… they haunted his dreams… the screams they let out. Gods was it traumatising. His blue eyes began to darken the more he thought about it and you knew what that meant, you had spent long enough with him to realise that it meant bad and so you gently rubbed your thumb against his cheek leaning in so you could press a kiss to his lips the kiss immediately snapping him out of it “don’t think bad thoughts…” “but I hurt them y/n.” He whispered and you shook your head “he hurt them. You didn’t do anything. Yes your body was there but your mind wasn’t. You aren’t to blame…. Don’t get into that mindset… I love you… you’re my world… I trust you with my life and soul…. I trust you Bucky.” You said softly watching as he seemingly calmed down completely as he cuddled into your embrace his arms remaining tight around you “they’re just nightmares now I promise… not real life. Okay?” And slowly he nodded burying his face into the crook of your neck and you smiled holding him close to your body “I love you.” He said softly and you tightened your arms around him “I love you too, Buck… forever and always.” Feeling him nod as he settled into your embrace,
