The Burned Name
Part 2: Fractured
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
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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.
“We’re safe,” you said, smiling at him.
He gave you a quick small peck on the nose.
“Finally.”
