pov- imagines

BERLIN- B. BARNES

pairings: bucky barnes x reader
warnings: mentions of blood and dying, fighting, weapons, avengers stuff, it's not fluff
about: a challenge "berlin in the cold/ all that fighting/ all that snow" for @sventeen-daybreak
a/n: i hope this is good! it's only 1k words or so, so i hope that's enough lol

the cold air is nipping at your uncovered skin, numbing your nose and your cheeks, but you don't seem to notice, your evening breaths are visible, swirling in front of you as white puffs. your fingers are tapping slowly against the leg of your suit, staining the color with the dark red on your fingers. you can still feel the wound they pressed on, the thick vermillion coating your fingers while you struggled to keep it in. you can still hear the whimpers and the screams, and the eyes that stared up at you, pleading for you to do something you were unable to.

the snow you're standing in is pure white, a stark contrast to the carmine colored you can still see. very little of it is yours, but it's a meaningless comfort with the reminder of the pain heavy, and it's barely noticeable that the avengers came to help with so much death.

your legs still ache from the excessive use, thighs sore from squeezing heads so hard, the legs underneath them fall to the ground; dead or passed out, you didn't bother to tell because you'd cracked their necks already. the weapons you used sit uselessly in the pockets of your suit: bloodied or chipped knives, broken tasers, and guns emptied of ammo.

you can still see the bodies, both human and alien, and a few in between, strewn across the white, but your face remains expressionless, the hate for the things that caused the destruction loud and clear as it runs in your blood, making your fingers reach out to take the lives you've already taken, not that you'd be able to with how exhausted you are now. the evidence of that though, is nonexistent, and will be until you're in the compound, free to pass out as you please in the confines of your own bed.

the presence behind you- familiar and comforting, a striking change from the ones you'd been encountering for the last hours- gently reminds you it isn't your bed only anymore, but yours and bucky's to share. the thought draws a relaxing sheen over your thoughts, the thought of hands and touched that don't bring with them murderous intent a large enough relief to let your shoulders drop a little.

just a little, though, because even if you close your eyes, the metallic smell of blood remains, burning in your nose, appearing on your tongue, and the still bodies are still there, all life drained away.

"you're cold," bucky says quietly, and you don't mind it; his voice is always soft, gravelly in a way that should shatter the war-ridden silence, but it doesn't, only makes it tremble, as if he's handling it with the same tender hands he handles you with- only light touches, as if you aren't the opposite of the most delicate thing in the world.

you don't respond, but you don't need to, bucky has already slipped his arms from the coat you made him take, draping it over your shoulders. the only reason he doesn't turn you around and puts it on you correctly is the eerie silence there rarely is when you're around him, and the complete lack of your touch. you're always at his side, hidden under his arm while you ask him if he's okay because you always are.

you aren't this time, he recognizes, watching you absentmindedly scratch at the dried blood on your thumb, the red speckles harshly interrupting the bright white as they land. "i don't understand why they came here like that." you think out loud, voice soft yet cracked. you mean suddenly, without the warning usually given and taken advantage of by arriving earlier, stopping most of the chaos and coldblooded murder.

"they're aliens," bucky points out dumbly, but he doesn't know what else to say, because he doesn't understand either. this is something he asks you, and you answer with something true and honest because that's what you are. you blink, not moving from the place you stand, watching the ruins of what was once a home. "but if we got here sooner-"

"you know what thinking like that does," bucky interrupts carefuly, and you do. you've seen the tears that tinge his eyes red and roll down his cheeks, the nightmares that limit his rest to only a few hours. yet, you can still only remember the little girl, whose blood possibly wouldn't be caked on your hands if you'd gotten here earlier.

she was so little, you think, sniffling. "you're cold," bucky repeats, attempting to ease you into the quinjet where the rest of the avengers wait, friday doing her job stitching up natasha's wounds. the stinging on your calf reminds you that you should probably be there too, but you remain still. "it was so pretty here," you whisper, remnants of the place it used to be still floating in the air like a shadow. you wanted to take bucky here one day, show him how beautiful the cold could be; but the scarlet covering masks the beautiful, the bodies smearing the illusion, only affirming bucky's views.

the snowflakes that fall from the sky mask the devastation with a sheen of peace, landing gently in yours and bucky's hair in a way that makes him look angelic. it's nearly ironic, with his gun shoved in his holster, bloodied and used. he's still to your side, bright blue eyes staying frozen on you.

you're standing in snow up to your knees, the ice unkind to your raw skin. the flakes only continue to fall, and you know that everything you can see will be covered by a new layer by tomorrow. it makes you upset, hand curling into a tight fist, sticky with blood. "why hasn't anyone picked them up?" you ask.

"too much snow. shield didn't have enough manpower to get them all," bucky replies, staring at the alien carcasses that remain, shriveled and ugly, one caught in mid scream. you shake your head, "i don't mean that," you state, voice slightly raising, nearly breaking your facade. "i mean them, they don't deserve to- to lie there with their murderers."

"y/n..." bucky begins, your breathing catches, murmuring a no under your breath, "they didn't deserve for their last memories to be fighting. they don't deserve to be buried under so much snow."

you turn to bucky, moving finally. "they didn't deserve that."

"i know," he responds, voice hushed while he comes closer to you, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and waist. "i couldn't help them," you snivel, letting yourself fall against bucky completely until he's practically carrying you, his body enveloping yours till you aren't visible anymore, safe in his embrace.

"you did everything you could, you helped so many people," bucky murmurs, pressing his lips against the crown of your head, "not enough," you counter, cold tears bleeding into his shoulder. "so much, y/n. people are alive because of you."

your arms finally go around his back, pulling him closer, "then why does it feel like i did nothing?" bucky shakes his head, squeezing his eyes shut at the sound of your broken words. he didn't know how to make this better. seeing you cry was new to him, it was always you comforting him, hugging him tightly and whispering loving words in his ear until he calmed down and clung to you as you ran your fingers through his hair.

"you did everything you could," he repeats quietly, rubbing small circles on your back. "i really hate being an avenger sometimes," you mumble into the ripped material of his suit. "i know. i do too," he nods, kissing your head repeatedly. his body heat is melting the cold off of yours with each second that passes by. if you close your eyes, you can pretend you aren't where you are, and the liquid coating your fingers isn't blood.

"i don't want to be here anymore," you start, "i want to go home with you and never see anything like this again." your words are unrealistic, and both you and bucky know that, but he nods anyway, pulling away from you and tugging the coat tighter around your body.

you walk next to him towards the quinjet, the snow you used to love stained with the ghost of the decimation that had just taken place