PLEASE TELL ME SOMEONE WANTED WINTER ONESHOTS?? Please.
Either way, you get one! <33
Probably will contain blood and cursing ! If ur not comfy with that, scroll awaaaay <3
p.s. sorry for it taking such a while to update, or sort of lost interest shrug :]
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The last thing he remembered was darkness.
Unintelligible words fading off into a blur, dreams of loud booms and ringing in his ears, almost loud enough to be real. They reminded him of something, something that even as hard as he dug and he searched through his brain, he just couldn't find.
That was when he woke up, vision blurry, the sting of a fresh cut burned as something was pressed against it, a certain shape that he recognized to be.. something. His brain was too foggy to make out what exactly the small white and orange stick had been, the wafts of gray that were released from the end of it.
He tried to get familiar with his surroundings, but nothing made sense. It felt like he was sleeping, for a long, long time.
"Wakey, wakey, my friend."
Was coughed out, the heavy, thick accent was unfamiliar to him. He turned his head up, squinting at the dark blur of a figure that stood before him.
"Ah, there we are. Didn't want our most valuable asset to flatline on us, now would we?"
There was a chuckle that rang out in the silence, forcing him to squeeze his eyes shut. Things felt so loud, so different. He didn't even know where he was.
"We've retrieved you from the Americans, but I decided I had a better idea, da?"
The voice questioned, forcing his head up. His features were more visible now, a rugged face with messy, short black hair. He forced out a heavy breath, one that felt like he'd been holding in forever.
"So, you might not understand much now, but we're going to attach this to you, see?"
He held up a small device that was soon shoved into his ear. He returned his gaze back to the stranger once he was done
"Your mission, is to kill this fellow, da?"
He held up a photo of a blonde, short hair, blue eyes, a complete stranger. And yet, there was something about him that seemed so.. familiar.
"Your code name is 'asset'. I will be giving you a set of words at a given time, you'll know what to do then. For now, get changed, your uniforms on the bench. I'll be straight down the hall, see me once you're done."
he nodded, standing. He watched the other leave, making his way over to the bench, a small mirror was hung on the wall. He took a good look at himself, long, brown hair, frosty blue eyes, fair skin, and scars littering his face.
he undressed, slipping the uniform on as told. The brunette got a good look around the room he was in, nothing worth taking interest in. That was until something shiny caught his eye, making him force himself to the stand, carefully scooping up a necklace, thin rounded out silver plates hung from the chain, it took him a minute, but he read it to be 'James 'Bucky' Barnes' with dates and a small phrase on the back of one.
Was that his name? James? He didn't like it. What about Bucky? Something clicked in his brain. He wasn't sure what it was, but that felt.. right. Bucky.
He repeated the word aloud, a raspy cough being the result. He tried again.
"Bucky."
The brunette smiled, he liked it.
Remembering his second demand, he made his way out of the room, walking straight down the hall, opening another door and letting it shut behind him.
it must've led outside, because he seen various bright lights, the one he spoke to was amongst several other men, waving him over.
The men that formerly seemed loose and uncaring, now straightened up, as if he had some sort of higher rank. He didn't quite understand.
"Well, into the truck you boys go."
He gestured to one of the vehicles, leading the group Bucky had found himself apart of. All he could do was follow.
- - -
After what seemed to be hours of driving, they came across a city. Must've been where they planned on going originally, because they stopped. The man he spoke to pulled him over, messing with the device in his ear, there was a short ring before he'd been directed to where he was to go.
"The big tower with the A, you can't miss it. Go in, and demand to visit Tony Stark. Take this."
Bucky was gifted with a small blade, pushing it into one of the various spaces he figured it went into. It fit like a glove, so he supposed he was correct.
After getting out, he made his way to the tower, better inspecting himself. His eyes widened at the metal arm that had filled the space of where he supposed his other flesh arm was supposed to be. What happened, he had no clue. But he was curious to know. Perhaps the person he was visiting knew?
He walked in, seeing a small lady at one of the desks. He was glad he'd been given a mask, he felt weird with his appearance. That, and he glanced at the cameras whirring and buzzing, scanning the room.
He stared at the lady, his mechanical hand twitching. He ignored the horrid thought that forced its way into his head as he approached.
"O-oh! Hello, sir. Welcome to Stark Industries business tower, home of the Avengers. How may I help you?"
He sat quietly for a second, trying to remember what he was sent here to do.
"Si--"
"Stark. I need to see him."
She nodded, looking him up and down.
"Of course! A-are you here for professional reasons? Or.. h-have a reservation with him?"
He was quiet.
"Professional reasons."
Was all he got out before being shooed off to the elevator. He pressed the button she said to, sighing and getting a better view of himself through the shiny surface of the elevator. He felt awkward, like somehow that wasn't really him. He wasn't sure about any of this.
There was a robotic female voice from the room inside as he entered, the door sliding shut. There stood a group of people, all bringing their attention to him, generally having mixed expressions.
"How did you get access up here?"
One of them asked, pressing what looked to be a triagular blue button on his chest. Bucky shrugged.
"Professional reasons?"
He responded, not knowing what to say. The words they spoke didn't register in his mind, despite him understanding them. They were different, and he felt more comfortable using different words, but he didn't know if they'd understand him.
He pointed to the blonde that looked like the one in the picture, glaring.
"I-"
He furrowed his brows as the other mumbled, not understanding.
"B-Bucky?"
His brows raised. How'd he know his name? That WAS his name? He felt a little. scared, now, awaiting the instructions he was supposed to be given.
The first one that spoken was now in some sort of metal suit, red and yellow.
"Tony!"
"What?!"
They bantered a bit, a red head that walked in didn't hesitate to run over with a kitchen knife. She went to throw a punch, but the brunette stopped it with his metal arm. She dropped the knife, catching it with her other hand and jabbing it into his side, forcing him to let her go. She kneed him in the stomach before being pulled back by another blonde
" 'tasha!"
he spat out, visibly not very happy with her.
"You!"
Was all she got out before being pulled away.
The bigger blonde frowned, walking over. His hands reacted faster than his mind could process. All he remembered was that he was supposed to kill the other.
He grabbed the others hand and wrapped his metal arm around his neck, a set of words coming in throught the ear piece he was given. He let go of the other, a sense of helplessness and fear washing over him.
he scrambled to rip the damn thing out, it taking a minute before he threw it onto the floor, stomping on it. He didn't know what came over him, but he knew those words weren't good.
- - -
Of course, now he'd been locked up. He didn't understand anything, but the red head had came in yelling at him for things he didn't remember doing. Maybe she just needed to get her anger out. She did cut his hand, though, so he immediately didn't like her much.
The blonde he was sent to kill—he wasn't sure of his name—walked in with a big grin. He figured he was gonna try to torture him or something.
"I won't talk!"
Was spat out in the language he was more familiar with. Surprisingly, the other responded back.
"Russian? Gosh, Buck, when'd you learn that one?"
He felt... weak. The others honey sweet voice, his neat blonde hair, the sky blue eyes that watched him. Except this time he was a look of hate, or malice, he seemed.. friendly. Kind, almost.
Bucky felt himself curl up, yelling curse words in English, he hated not knowing who the other was, or why despite the urge to take his knife to the others chest, he seemed so familiar, and what stopped him.
"Buck... what happened to you, pal?"
The blonde frowned now, he seemed so important, so precious and unforgettable. Then why had he forgotten him? Who the hell was he?
"I'm... I'm sorry. You have the wrong person. I– I don't know you."
The brunette responded, frightened and worried about what the other had planned. Something forced him over though, to the bars of the cell, he leaned into the others touch once he was gifted with a palm against his cheek.
"Buck... it's me, Steve?"
The blonde—Steve—tried again, smiling and sitting down cross legged.
"The little Brooklyn blonde who got into too many fights and wore newspapers in his shoes? The one who stuck by your side, and always dragged you to his apartment whenever he felt sick? The one who promised to sick by you until the end of the line?"
Buckys eyes widened, there was a rush of memories that forced tears out of his eyes, the ones that burned and stung but were happy.
"S-steve?"
He questioned, scrambling through his memory for any other information. He decided that didn't matter now, he'd figure it out later, for the moment he was just so, so happy.
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HOLY SHIT.
HOLY SHIT.
This little oneshot was 1,802 WORDS.
WHAT THE HECK??
I guess I just got pretty inspired!! Aaaaaanywho, if you'd like me to maybe do a part 2 for this, I'd be happy to 👀👀
definitely gonna write another oneshot after this one though!! Hehe <33
P.S. SORRY ABT NAT I JUST RLLY WANTED SOMEONE TO BE SUPER PISSED WITH HIM N WAS LIKE 'O THEY HAD HISTORY, MAYBE SHE RECOGNIZED HIM IMMEDIATELY??''
SORRY AGAIN HABSJJE