Summary: In a world where wars rage endlessly and machines are the product of ill intentions, Sargent Barnes finds himself on the receiving end of one such machine. While his life was spared, his metal arm became wrecked during the intense exchange. So when Steve passes him an address, claiming the best mechanic he ever saw resided at that location, Bucky set out to find the one person that could fix his arm.
Excerpt: “Don’t worry, Sargent Barnes. I’ll fix ya’ up real good. Make ya’ as good as new!”A simple sentence that he never realized would change everything.
Pairings: AU!Bucky Barnes x Reader
Word Count: 999 words.
Warnings: None.
Author Note: It is entirely too hard to find steampunk gifs that would go with this story.... that and I realize I’m in dire need of more Bucky gifs! But anyway, I’m not sure how many parts this series will have... I’ve got quite a few written up for it, with no end game in mind yet. Hopefully, ya’ll enjoy this little rabbit hole series!
It was a little shop, the entrance in the back of a dingy alleyway, with a simple sign hanging on the rusted door. Never a name for the strange little place, just an ‘open’ or ‘closed’ invitation or declination. A small shop without windows, where when the door creaked open, smoke often greeted the strangers that dared to step foot into the unique establishment--- whether a cigar or a cigarette or the possibility of a fire, one was never sure. There were tall standing units against the opposite walls, shelves lined with interesting gadgets and strange inventions. Nothing too obvious to what the owner actually delved into and developed.
So when Bucky Barnes slipped into the shop, his nose instantly tickled by what he could define as cigarette smoke instead of the dangers of an imaginable fire--- his blue eyes scanned the area before him, searching for the owner of the little hole in the wall. Almost instantly, his eyes found a woman who stood behind the counter. She was already leaning against the dark wood, arms crossed in anticipation for a question to come. Red hair bounced against her shoulders, her painted smirk almost knowing despite the fact the stranger had never uttered a word.
Bucky took a step forward, his stride hesitant and tentative, but he willed himself to square his shoulders and push forward. It was the way those eyes stared him down, an almost unspoken dare for him to continue. And he did, forcing himself to waltz up to the counter, swallowing the hesitation he felt in the pit of his stomach.
“What ails you, soldier?” Her voice was velvet, but all too dangerous.
The beat against his chest stumbled, his voice catching in his throat. He was a soldier of the war, but the dark gaze she studied him with was more intense than staring down a barrel of a gun. Those stormy blue eyes glanced from the red head, with an edge of danger about her, to the slightly opened door in the corner. Clenching his jaw, he attempted to steady his erratic heartbeat before speaking.
“I was told to come here,” he stated, again squaring his shoulders in defiance against the concern that was coursing through his veins.
“And what associate recommended this sort of place?” She questioned, pushing herself away from the counter.
Her fingertips trailed against the wood as she moved from behind the counter that separated them.
Again his jaw clenched, and without second thinking his gesture, he removed the clothe that draped over his shoulder. He watched as her eyes fell to the metal arm, scrutinizing the bent and contorted mechanical arm that he rested in the palm of his hand.
“Steve Rogers,” he announced, his voice louder than what he intended.
She took a moment to almost analyze his broken appendage. When her eyes finally met his own, she offered him a damn near sympathetic smile.
“Follow me, soldier.” A quick wave of her hand, and she was already making her way towards a doorway. Pushing the clothe that concealed the door way, she cast another glance over her shoulder. It didn’t take him more than a few seconds to understand her command. He followed behind her, long strides close on her heels.
“I’ve got a client for you, sweetheart!” The loudness of her voice caught him off guard.
There were a few tables in the middle of the room, parts scattered across them. Up against the walls were more shelves with interesting creations that Bucky couldn’t wrap his mind around. Tables lined up against the walls held machines he had never laid eyes on, and the curiosity was all too apparent in those blue orbs. His attention was captured by a few sparks emitting from the floor, hidden behind one of the tables in the center of the room.
Bucky followed all too closely behind the woman as she rounded one of the tables. His gaze dropping to a figure who sat cross-legged on the floor, fingers fiddling with a small device.
He watched as the woman nudged the figure with her leg, and he found himself full of surprise when the figure let out a startled yelp, almost dropping the strange tools they held. After a string of choice words, the figure pulled off the brass goggles that covered their eyes, and turned their undivided attention to both the woman and himself.
To his surprise, a woman pushed the goggles atop her head, tilting her head quizzically towards them.
“I warned you, so do not even start with me!” The woman, who had escorted him inside the curious room, chastised the other woman on the floor.
He couldn’t help, but think this was possibly a continuous thing that happened between them. It almost put him at ease, despite the situation he’d found himself in.
Bright eyes looked between the woman and himself. Another tilt of the head, her brows furrowed against her forehead. Shoving the strange device away from her, she pushed herself up, steadying herself against one of the work benches.
“Who’s the fella?”
“He was told to come here,” she paused to glance over her shoulder at Bucky, “to see you specifically.”
This time her eyebrows shot up on her face, and suddenly those orbs were filled with pure curiosity. “And who would send a soldier to me?”
“Is it that obvious?” He couldn’t stop the whisper from escaping his words, feeling a sudden ashamed feeling running through his veins.
“Steve.”
It was a quick answer. She never even had to say his last name, and suddenly the other woman was beaming with what Bucky swore was not only amusement but intrigue. And the smile that slipped onto her lips, almost stopped his heartbeat as much as the apprehension of meeting the “mad doctor” had done earlier.
“Don’t worry, Sargent Barnes. I’ll fix ya’ up real good. Make ya’ as good as new!”
A simple sentence that he never realized would change everything.
Summary: In a world where wars rage endlessly and machines are the product of ill intentions, Sargent Barnes finds himself on the receiving end of one such machine. While his life was spared, his metal arm became wrecked during the intense exchange. So when Steve passes him an address, claiming the best mechanic he ever saw resided at that location, Bucky set out to find the one person that could fix his arm.
Excerpt: “Of course, I know we could just detach it!” She scooted closer. “But it’s ya’ arm and a surgeon doesn’t just take off the whole arm, fella’!”
Pairings: AU!Bucky Barnes x Reader
Word Count: 935 words
Warnings: None.
Author Note: Thanks for all the likes on this series! And feel free to leave feedback, darlings! I really hope everyone’s enjoying it!
Part One
Bucky watched as the strange ‘doctor’ pushed some trinkets off the table that was secured along the wall, seemingly trying to make enough room for a procedure that had his stomach dropping. When Steve had told him the address to go to after an intense battle that found him with a nearly wrecked arm--- he never thought it would be the rumored ‘mad doctor’, who supposedly specialized in mechanical devices and creations that had the capacity to either create amazing things or destroy them in a simple breath. In fact, he’d be lying to himself if he only thought the woman before him, who was currently rummaging through discarded parts, was just a simple legend--- a phantom in the night. He never thought the ‘mad doctor’ actually existed, and more so that, his best friend, would send him there.
Yet there he was though, sitting on a stool, watching as the woman frantically ran around in front of him, collecting tools and gadgets he’d never laid eyes on.
“Let’s see that arm of yours!”
Her voice broke him from the zombie like trance he didn’t realized he had fallen into. After a moment of hesitation, he dropped the clothe away from his arm, allowing her to see the extent of his mechanical injury. Jagged pieces of metal protruded at certain spots, at other locations on the mechanical appendage, she found the material had been melted by some unknown substance. However, the worrying part that had her brows creasing briefly against her forehead, was the large gash down the inner length of his arm.
“My goodness, fella’! Someone sure did a doozie on ya’!” She exclaimed and the sudden raising of her voice, caught him completely off guard.
He had been used to bombs dropping and gun fire, but he found the urge to jump like a skittish child. Chewing on the inside of his left cheek, Bucky fought the feeling in the pit of his stomach, stormy eyes watching the young woman continue to examine his arm.
“If it’s gonna be too much work,” he murmured, “I can leave my arm here---”
“Nonsense!” She threw up her hand. “It’s apart of ya’, fella’. So that just won’t do!”
His brows furrowed. “But I can remove it---”
Swiveling the stool away from his figure, she began to pick through the strange instruments on the table. Curious eyes watched the back of the ‘mad doctor’ as her shoulders rolled back in what almost seemed like innocent excitement. Once more, she spun around to face him, a grin slipping onto her lips, and he could almost catch the gleam of something strange in her eyes.
“Of course, I know we could just detach it!” She scooted closer. “But it’s ya’ arm and a surgeon doesn’t just take off the whole arm, fella’!”
Bucky wasn’t sure if the phrasing the ‘doc’ had gone for made him feel any less nervous about having her work on his arm. She snapped the goggles back over her eyes, a toothy grin now plastered across her features, and maneuvered his arm onto the steel table behind her. His body leaned closer as she seemed to direct him to do so.
“Let’s get started, shall we?”
Two hours into what the ‘mad doctor’ had described as an interesting “procedure”, the fiery woman from before made another appearance. She had slipped into the room without Bucky even noticing, his eyes entirely too fixated on the woman who was working feverishly on his broken arm. It wasn’t until she was leaning over their shoulders, and her voice broke the noise of the soft clanking of tools against the inner working of his mechanical limb. A series of noises he had found oddly comfortable in the strange atmosphere of the unique shop.
“I think it’s time you two took a bit of a break, don’t you?”
A soft gasp escaped her lips, her shoulders stiffening, and Bucky attempted his best not to yank his arm away. However, her hands never wavered, steady as they had been during her silent tinkering. She merely froze on the spot, tools hovering in the compartment she had been fiddling with.
“Natasha!” She damn near hissed before spinning around to face the woman.
“Why must ya’ always do that?” A soft huff passed between her frowning lips.
A bemused smirk slipped onto her red lips before she replied. “Calm down, sweetheart. I know you have the steadiest of hands. No harm, no foul.”
The doctor pushed up her brass goggles, fixing them atop her head once more. Narrowed eyes met more than amused green orbs from Natasha. Bucky glanced between the two women, knowing that he didn’t need to hear the ‘always’ in the sentence to realize that it was a situation that happened all too often. There was an odd curiosity bubbling inside him, one that found the dynamic between the two all too interesting.
Before she could even speak, Natasha held up her hand--- almost mimicking the gesture he had seen the ‘doc’ give him earlier.
“It’s time for a break, whether you two like it or not.” She shot a pointed look at the both of them, and Bucky found himself nodding in compliance before he even realized what was happening.
There was a soft whine from the other woman, but she also seemed to concede defeat to the persistent woman.
“Yes, ma’am,” she mumbled, an almost pout playing on her lips.
“That’s what I thought!” Natasha mused, clapping her hands together briskly. “Let’s eat, shall we?”
He really wondered what Steve had gotten him into after-all.
Ok, so that's how the final lines look. If any of you lovely people see anything I should fix it's the last chance to tell me - tomorrow I'm gonna grab the gel pen!
“You’re going to drink all of the liquor. Again.” Steve barely looked up from the drink he was nursing, though he could hear Natasha’s heels clicking towards him. “Ah, the green monster,” she mused, taking a seat beside him. “You know, we have one of those on the lower decks, and he walks and talks and doesn’t drink all of the absinthe.”
“Cute,” Steve said shortly, downing the rest of his glass. The vile drink burned its way down his throat and he felt light-headed for one blissful second before it vanished. It was days like these where he passionately hated Dr. Erskine for upping his metabolism. “Maybe if I drink it all, we’ll have to land to get some more. I know how you and Clint get without your nightcaps.” Every member of the team was clamoring to get off the zeppelin. SHIELD’s state-of-the-art aerostat was big enough to house an entire city block, equipped with every creature comfort the team could want. But after weeks of fruitless searching, not even the hydrogen that held the ship aloft could lift their spirits. No one was handling the boredom well. Natasha and Clint had been training nonstop, constantly sparring, setting traps for one-another and generally creating havoc all around the aeroship. Stark and Dr. Banner had grown so restless that they’d been tinkering; upgrading the Tesla-powered components of the ship. Stark Industries was the leading manufacturer and seller of in all things Tesla, from the mechanics on their zeppelin to the blasters that Natasha kept on her hips, among other places. Steve had been wallowing, splitting his time between working out and trying to drink himself into oblivion.
“You know we’re going to find him, right?” Natasha said, laying a hand on his shoulder. “We’re going to find him for you, Steve.”
“I know.” For the first time, Steve turned to look at her, almost bursting into laughter at what she was wearing. Steve had long since grown accustomed to the odd fashions of this day and age, but Natasha still never failed to surprise him. “What’s the matter, soldier?” she asked, batting her lashes at him. “Never seen a woman in trousers before?” He hadn’t. The Russian grinned, hopped off of the barstool, and twirled a little, allowing him to see her getup in all of its glory. She was in fact wearing tight-fitted dark trousers beneath a black corset slashed through with red satin. The neckline swooped dangerously low, revealing pearly skin faintly crisscrossed with scars. The tattered jacket draped loosely on her shoulders didn’t do much for her propriety, although Steve had never known her to care about anything so frivolous as showing skin.
“It’s a wonder Clint ever lets you out of his sight,” Steve said finally.
“Darling,” Natasha said coolly, pulling a single red strand of hair out of the tidy bun at the nape of her neck. “It’s a wonder you think Clint lets me do anything.” Steve felt a blush creep up his neck.
“Tash,” the man himself, Clint, said, bursting into the barroom. For once his bronze-and-copper bow wasn’t slung over his shoulder, and his cap was pulled low over dark eyes. Steve had to commend his timing. “Cap. You two are going to want to see this.” He vanished from the doorway and Steve and Natasha followed without another word. All three wound their way down several flights of stairs to the belly of the ship where Stark and Dr. Banner had set up their equipment. Though he’d acclimated to the new era, Steve always felt out of place here, surrounded by glittering machinery, steam and Tesla energy often firing off at random. Clint had assured him that it was a normal reaction. “They’re steammen,” he’d explained, using the colloquial term for scientists that had harnessed steam for energy and expanded upon it. “Odd fellows. And it’s best they have each-other, else they’d be trying to explain this nonsense to one of us and I can’t make heads or tails of it.”
“What happened?” Steve demanded when they finally reached the laboratory level.
“Good day to you too, captain,” Tony Stark said, tipping his wide-brimmed black hat and fixing his goggles atop it. “Nice of you to stop by and take a break from your descent into alcoholism.”
“How did you – ”
“Please,” Stark said, holding up a hand. “I’d know the smell of the green monster anywhere.” He shrugged out of his starched white lab coat and hung it up on a hook.
“And he’s not talking about me this time,” Bruce added helpfully, removing his own goggles and letting them dangle around his neck.
“Fellas,” Natasha interjected, tapping a buckle-studded heel. “He’s not much in the mood.”
“Fine, fine, say no more,” Stark said reasonably. Steve had long since laid his problems with the industrialist billionaire to rest, but in that moment he very much wanted to strangle him. “We think we might have a lead on Sparky.”
“Bucky,” Steve corrected, trying to control his breathing. They hadn’t had a solid lead in months, and Stark was making up nonsensical nicknames?
“No, Sparky might be more accurate,” Banner said in his quiet, demure way. “We’ve been trying to identify what exactly power’s Sargent Barnes’…limb.” Banner continued, gesturing to a drawing that Steve had done from memory. Bucky stared back at them from the page, his hair longer than Steve had ever seen, framing a face that he’d had memorized since childhood. Everything about him was different, wrong. He was all in black, as if in mourning, and wearing a long coat with dark buckles and a mask over the bottom half of his face. His eyes were the worst. Bright blue, the blue that Steve had fallen in love with, and staring right through him without recognition. Bucky couldn’t remember him, not at all, and his arm had been replaced with a mechanical prosthetic of some kind. Not brass or copper, or even tin, though it was a similar color. Steve couldn’t puzzle out how it worked – he’d never seen anything like it. All overlapping strips of metal with cogs allowing movement at the elbow, with no blue energy to indicate that it was Tesla-powered or valves to allow steam to escape. Stark and Banner had been working on it for weeks, hoping that if they figured out the power source it could lead them closer to Bucky. “Steve you said you felt something when you touched his arm, when you were fighting, correct?”
“It made my hair stand on end,” Steve recalled.
“It’s lightning!” Stark exclaimed excitedly. “Everyone gets that feeling before lightning strikes.”
“Lightning? As in the stuff that strikes during storms?” Clint asked, squinting. “How the hell is that powering his arm?”
“We don’t know exactly,” Bruce admitted. “But what we do know is that it’s made of silver. It’s a good conductor – not as good as gold, you understand, but cheaper. Honestly, we don’t much understand it.”
“So you’re telling me that Bucky’s wearing an arm made of silver that’s powered by lightning?” Steve repeated, once more for clarity. “Does that sound crazy to anyone else?”
“It does, we know, and we’re no experts on it – ”
“But we know someone who is!” Stark cut in again, bouncing up and down. “Some northerner who goes by the name of Thor and calls himself the God of Thunder. Claims he’s the only one who can harness this stuff.”
“Well,” Natasha said, cracking her knuckles. “Let’s go pay the God of Thunder a visit.”
The more steampunk!Bucky references you reblog, the more I'm convinced you're writing the fic that is GOING to kill me. It's like Clint with body glitter & eyeliner was just the dress rehearsal. /o\
My work here is done :-D
I mean, this is very sad, amnesiac steampunk!Bucky, so YMMV. But he gets better! And his arm is really pretty (and deadly) and he's got the wild hair and...
