You'd always seemed to be immune to the elements. While your friends shivered and complained in the wind, you would laugh at them in a tank top and skirt. When other kids cried out as they accidentally touched hot glue, you casually put it right onto your hand and waited for it to dry so you could inspect your fingerprint. 

You were smart, funny and beautiful. Y/N Y/L/N, the sweetheart of the town. Because of this, people overlooked the fact that you never had been ordinary. 

And now, thanks to that fire, you never would be.

It had been a beautiful day. You were 10 years old. And it was your birthday.

"Y/N!" your mother called. "Come downstairs please!"

"We have a gift for you!" your father added.

"Okay!" you had yelled back, running down the stairs eagerly.

Later, they told you that the gas tank under the old-fashioned stove, your mother's pride and joy, had ruptured. Your parents, standing in the kitchen, never stood a chance. They were in the heat of the explosion, the flames licking them bare. But, thanks to your distance from the fire and your elemental resistance, you were fine, just scarred.

Fine, just scarred. That was what the doctors told you. Scars across your face, down your arms, on your neck, covering your back. It broke you. People always stared, because whilst hoodies covered most of the scars, the ones on your face were the worst.

Thankfully, Tony Stark knew your parents. He heard about the accident and adopted you on the spot. Thanks to him, you had a home and a family.

You cried with the rest of the world when he was kidnapped.

You were the first to greet him when he returned.

He was the only person who could help with your awful nightmares, stop you from screaming and crying from the visions of your parents' deaths. You still had those nightmares, even though you were now in your mid-20's.

Y/M Y/M/N Y/L/N-Stark, Elemental Avenger, thanks to the results of Tony's tests. You were close with all of the Avengers, but none except for Tony knew about your scarring past. You loved how the Avengers never questioned your scars, but there was never anyone as scarred as you, never someone who could really understand the feeling of the stares and whispers and hate and loneliness and fear.

Until he came along.

The second you so much as saw James Buchanan Barnes, you were sure of two things:

1. He was like you. He had the same haunted, scared look in his eyes, and a very obvious scar in the form of a metal arm.

2. You had a crush on him. Firstly, he looked attractive, and secondly, his metal arm may have frightened other people, but to you it was a beautiful symbol of his strength to go through everything he did.

So you loved Bucky Barnes. But did he love you?

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