You Love Her (Bucky Barnes x Reader) (2024)

Words: 1,900+

I loved writing this one after I've had the idea floating around in my head for the last few days. I hope you guys enjoy it and if you’d like a Part 2 then please let me know.

Warnings: mentions of blood, choking (kind of), guns - that’s about it I think.

Part 2 coming soon

It was cold in New York. But not as cold as Siberia. Not as cold as being in cryogenic sleep. These were Bucky’s thoughts as he carried two Styrofoam cups of takeout coffee back to his apartment building. November had brought a chill to the city like no other. The brisk wind carrying fallen leaves across the pavement as he weaved his way through early morning commuters. He wore a black glove on his left hand, still not comfortable with the stares of strangers as they passed by. The heat from the coffee in his hands warms him as he approaches his street.

The door to the apartment building is slightly ajar as he approaches it.

“Typical.” Bucky mutters under his breath as he pushes it open with his shoulder, then closes it gently with his foot. Before heading towards the stairwell, he collects the mail. A singular letter which is clearly nothing of interest. He places the envelope between his teeth and proceeds to carry the coffee with him up the stairwell. Approaching his apartment door, he is overcome with a sense of happiness, something that only comes with being within the presence of Y/N.

Y/N. His beautiful, sweet Y/N. Never had Bucky felt so alive, so weightless than when he was with her. Everything he had done as The Soldier, everything he had done in his past, was insignificant compared to her. With her he was happy.

They had met in Wakanda, where she had transferred before the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D, to work alongside Princess Shuri. Y/N was assigned to help Bucky once he had come out of his cryogenic sleep. It was during their time together that Bucky learnt what it was like to feel cared for again. What it felt like to be loved again.

Bucky had been out of cryogenic sleep for several months, with Y/N helping him daily with his progress. Helping him return to civilisation, slowly but surely it was working – but there were days where he withdrew into himself. Like today.

“Sergeant Barnes.” He was sat looking out onto the veranda, his hair tied back into a messy braid at the back of his head – the local children insisted that they tie it up. He agreed only to please them, it was better than cutting his hair he thought. Y/N sat down next to him, bumping his elbow with hers as she settled down. “How are you feeling today?” He refused to make eye contact, to even turn his head to face her. Something was wrong. “James.” She took his hand gently, running her fingertips over the lines of his knuckles and slowly down to his wrist. “Please, you can talk to me.” He swallowed and then turned his body slightly towards her.

“How can you help me?” He had been crying, his eyes red, tear stains across his cheeks. There were teeth marks on his lips where he had been biting them, trying to hold back tears. “After everything I’ve done. I’m a monster.”

“You are not a monster.” Taking his face in her hands, she reassured him. Her eyes held his, she needed him to understand. To know. “I promise you. You are not a monster. Not even close.” He was silent. “James, you are a good and brave man. I’ve never known anyone like you.” Tears began to fall from his eyes again and with her thumbs she softly wiped them away, pushing his hair back from his face. “I love you.”

His head instantly shot up at her words.

“What?”

“I love you, James.” He laughed softly in disbelief. Her heart plummeting into her stomach. His eyes searched hers, needing to know if she was being serious or not. Smiling sadly at him, she stood to leave. No words were spoken as she began to walk away from him back towards the palace.

“I love you too.”

It had only been a few months since they had moved back to New York. A fresh start.

Y/N had been by Bucky’s side as he had turned into dust as the result of Thanos. She had been there when they brought everybody back. Watched helplessly as Tony sacrificed himself for billions. Held Bucky as he kneeled to the ground in anguish at the loss of the man, he needed to say he was sorry to the most. She stood and gripped his hand as they paid their respects at his funeral. But after getting him back, the hardest thing? The hardest was watching him say goodbye to Steve, his best friend, his brother. That night Bucky had sat in silence until he returned to his bed, where he cried himself to sleep. Y/N only being able to provide words of comfort and hold him tightly as he let out his emotions.

But here he was happy.

Balancing one of the coffee cups on top of the other, Bucky pulls his keys from his back pocket. He fumbles with the lock and then pushes the door open. Dropping the letter onto the hallway table. He places the coffee next to it. Walking slowly onto the threshold and closing the door behind him, Bucky is met with silence. He locks the door and then picking up the coffee again, heads towards the kitchen. Strange. Normally at this time of the morning, Y/N is usually busy making scrambled eggs, wearing nothing but one of his shirts and short shorts. The kitchen he finds is empty. Leaving the coffee on the counter, he frowns and then decides to make his way to the bedroom. Maybe she’s still in bed?

As he gets closer to their closed door, something doesn’t feel right. When he left that morning, he had left the door wide open, just the way she liked it. Regardless of whether she was getting changed or whether it was cold, their bedroom door always stayed open. Always. He had never in all the time since they moved in, seen that door closed.

Ever since he moved back from Wakanda and got his own place, after leaving the Avengers complex, Bucky had always kept multiple weapons concealed around the apartment – just to be that bit more secure.

Moving towards the bookshelf beside their bedroom door and feeling across the top shelf, grabs a handgun, he silently prays he won’t have to use it.

Listening intently Bucky can make out muffled sounds coming from behind the door. Preparing himself, he takes the safety off the gun, and aims it in front of him. He then knocks gently on the door with his knuckles,

“Y/N, I’m home. Coffee’s in the kitchen.” Nothing.

Cautiously he moves the door handle and pushes it open slowly. Assessing the room, everything appears normal. The curtains are still drawn closed, sunlight beginning to seep through the cracks. Her clothes are still hanging on the wardrobe door, ready for her to wear when she wakes. But to Bucky it feels wrong.

The bed is empty. Y/N nowhere in sight, the duvet clearly been slept under. The mattress is slightly askew. What had happened here? These minute details to anyone else would have seemed insignificant but not to him. To him it wasn’t good. Y/N wouldn’t leave their room like this, she always, without fail, made the bed – even if she was going to the bathroom.

Next, Bucky checks their en-suite, there was nowhere else in the apartment she could be. Still with gun in front, he pushes the door open. What he finds inside makes his heart stop.

There Y/N sits on a wooden chair, a dirty rag tied and bound through her mouth. Her hair is hanging in front of her face, knotted and wet. Tears stained her cheeks and there were streaks of blood across her cheeks and neck. Her hands bound behind her back, her feet tied to the front legs tightly – there are clear rope burns on her ankles, blood seeping into the material. Her top is torn, leaving part of her abdomen exposed, several scratches and cuts adorning her skin.

As soon as she recognises him, she starts to struggle against the restraints that bind her to the chair. Panic is evident in her eyes. The first thing Bucky thinks to do is to help her but by looking at her face he can tell she is trying to warn him. Her eyes flit back and forth, from him to the darkness of the bedroom from where he came. One nod of his head and she knows that he understands what she is trying to tell him. That whoever did this, was still in their apartment.

Bucky raises his gun again and mouths an ‘I love you’ and turns slowly to face the bed. There is a moment of silence before a punch is delivered to the side of Bucky’s head. His vision blurs and black dots clutter his sight. Trying to compose himself, he places a hand on the door frame to steady himself. In front of him he can vaguely see a figure move towards him again, his stance aggressive and ready to fight. Before he can deliver another blow, Bucky raises his metal arm to block him. The sound of flesh hitting metal and a sickening crunch resonates throughout the room. A grunt of pain to follow.

As the attacker cradles his broken fist in his other hand, Bucky takes the opportunity to go back to Y/N. He snaps the rope with his metal hand and gently takes the rag from her mouth. Softly stroking her hair back from her face as he kisses her forehead.

“I need to get you out of here.” She nods and kisses him swiftly on the lips.

“Not so fast, Soldat.” It is like ice has been poured down his spine as he stands rigid. Y/N holds his arm in her hands and feels the muscles tense against her palms. “It took a long time to find you. But here you are.” The intruder stands in the open doorway, blocking their exit, a gun clenched in his good hand. “You thought you’d seen the last of HYDRA. You were very wrongly mistaken.”

The agent’s next words are spoken in Russian and Bucky immediately knows what is to come. “Longing.” He pushes Y/N behind him and stands his ground. “Rusted.”

“Stop!” Bucky’s voice is hoarse and pained as he glares at the agent.

“Seventeen. Daybreak. Furnace.” With each word, Bucky’s breathing rapidly increases, his anger building. The agent stares at the super soldier with confusion. He was told he would have shown some cooperation by now. “Nine.” Bucky takes one step forwards. “Benign.”

Bucky’s facial expression turns from angry to neutral, devoid of any emotion. “Homecoming. One.” The agent waits a moment longer, pausing before speaking the last activation word. “Freightcar.”

Y/N watches as the man she loves stands motionless in the centre of the room, his back to her. Fear is coursing through her as she prays for him to be okay. To be cured. All the tests in Wakanda showed that the effects of the trigger words were non-existent. What had gone wrong?

“Soldat?”“Ready to comply.” She felt her heart break in her chest. The Russian that fell from his lips was new to her spoken in this way. He had spoke the language to her before, but only words of affection - and when he was swearing under his breath.

Now, English? That she understood and the next words that she hears are ones she wished she didn’t. “You love her. Now kill her.” He turns to face her and takes a stride forwards, his toes brushing against hers. His metal hand reaches up and his fingers close around her throat. She closes her eyes, knowing she cannot look him in the eye knowing they will not be the eyes she fell in love with. Unexpectedly, his hold is not tight. She could breath. He bows his head to her ear, his hand still resting on her neck.

“Do you trust me?”

Relief floods her body, it’s still her Bucky.

“Always.”