#he commited war crimes and framed bucky

[gh0stlyfixation]

Copycat

Paring: Simon Riley x taskmaster!reader, Dreykov!reader. Mention of Bucky and Steve (there married, oops 🙊).

Summary: A new Avenger teams up with Taskforce 141, turns out her and Ghost are a like.

Warning: trauma, mixing the avengers and cod together, grammar errors probably. Not a huge fan on how I ended it.

“You didn’t tell us she was fucking crazy.” Soap said to Price and Laswell.

“You didn’t ask.” Price cheekily answered.

Simon glared at him, “where’d she come from?”

“Fury from The Avengers team sent her, said she was the best,” Laswell responded.

That made sense. The Avengers were a bunch of glorified superheroes. A mix of super soldiers and non-human things, they dealt with their kind while we dealt with wars in other countries.

“She killed twenty men in two minutes with her bare hands. What the fuck?” Soap said in shock.

“What can you tell us about her?” Simon asked.

Price and Laswell looked at each other, “not much. She’s 23, her name was Taskmaster, but we call her Copycat now.” Price told.

“That’s it?” Soap asked.

“She has a violent history that is not ours to tell. I suggest you be nice. She can put us all down in a second. Now walk away.” Laswell spoke.

——

Over the few weeks you’ve been around Taskforce 141, you didn’t speak much. The team quickly realized you also wore a mask like Ghost. Ghost warmed up to you well. He didn’t talk to you much like most of the team but he was nice to you. He offered you hellos and little waves while passing in the halls. He assumed you’d give him smiles, he always wanted to see you smile.

You sat in your room with the door open. No one was around, either on missions or out in training. You open your laptop and clicked on zoom, taking off the mask, you heard your therapist speak, “Hi Y/N,”

“Hi Doctor.” You said quietly.

What the team didn’t know was that you were in court-mandated therapy just like your friend Bucky was. You committed war crimes, however, they weren’t your fault, something you haven’t yet accepted.

“How are the nightmares?” She asked.

Ghost was walking down the hall, something you didn’t hear, Ghost was always light on his feet. He heard your soft voice speaking through your door. You left it wide open, something out of character.

He peaked his head to look in your room and saw you at your desk. He noticed the mask was off, your hair in two French braids. “The nightmares haven’t happened often, I’ve been able to control the noise, you know, so I don’t wake up the team.” You shrugged.

I shouldn’t be listening, Ghost thought to himself, but he couldn’t move away. He leaned against the wall next to your door frame. “How’s the team? Your new placement?” The lady asked.

You were quiet for a moment, “nice. They kinda leave me alone.” You sigh. It wasn’t easy making friends, Ghost felt a little bad, “There is one guy though. We call him Ghost.” You started.

His heart fluttered, he had to place a hand over it. He’s never felt that before. Ghost knew he shouldn’t be listening, but he couldn’t move. “He’s nice to me, he waves and says hi. It feels nice to be acknowledged. I’d like to think he’s cute too.” You admitted.

Ghost nearly choked on air, he covered his mouth at your confession, “you have a crush? That’s good, feeling new emotion. We’ve been working hard on that.” The lady spoke.

That’s when Ghost realized that this was a therapy session, “is that what a crush feels like? I never knew what friendships or crushes were since the Red Room. Growing up with him, being that killing machine, I didn’t get a chance at being a girl. Being me.” Your body is visibly slouched.

The red room? What in the hell was that, and you grew up in it. “The mask too? Ghost wears one.” You sat up straight at the mention of his name.

“Yeah, I find comfort knowing he wears one too, though I don’t know why. I’m sure it’s to secure his identity, meanwhile, mine is to hide the ugly scar I live with.”

That’s when Ghost knew he couldn’t listen anymore. He couldn’t listen to you putting yourself down, belittling yourself. He walked away.

—

You often sat out on training, you’d rather watch the men than utterly destroy them. You memorized every single member of the team's moves, besides, no one offered to spare with you. You sat in silence watching Soap and Ghost spare, 9 out of 10 times, Ghost won.

“It’s not a fair fight,” Soap complained. “But you wouldn’t know a fair fight.” Soap smiled.

Ghost looked up at you, “Cat!” His voice boomed. You looked up confused at the new nickname. “Come on, let’s spare.”

Soap looked surprised. You uncrossed your legs, fixing your yoga pants and grabbing a pair of gloves. “This won’t be fair.” You spoke up.

“Cocky,” Soap said with a smirk.

Through all the matches, Ghost didn’t win but once, and even then, he thought you let him. “I wasn’t called the Taskmaster for nothing.” You said to Ghost helping him up.

You looked around and noticed everyone had left the room, “who calls you the Taskmaster?” He asked, He wanted more information on you.

You gave him a weary look, but you’d consider him a friend and to keep friends you need to make an effort, said your therapist. “The Red Room, heh,” you nervously chuckled.

“You don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want.” He said, Please tell me everything! He begged in his mind.

“No, it’s okay. I trust you.” You quietly spoke sitting down on the mat. Ghost couldn’t help but smile under his mask, “the Red Room was a training facility in Russia. We were trained to be the deadliest assassins. It wasn’t supposed to be my life, my father was the leader. But after the explosion, he couldn’t stand my face and made me who I am today.” You explained.

“He noticed my ability to memorize patterns. He put a chip in me like the other girls, made me a suit of armor, and I was forced to train newbies and kill innocents. I was a daddy’s girl once, but then I was nothing more than an ugly killer.” You whispered the last part more to yourself. “Thats the nonviolent story of my life.”

Ghost sat down with you, “I know you're not ugly.” You scoffed at him, not believing him. “I'm serious.” He said.

“I bet you're not ugly either.” You told him, “take it off.” You said with a little tease. He could see you smile through that mask.

“Only if you do.” He responded. You looked around the room, “you don’t have to Cat.” He said

“No, just, not here.” You stood up then Ghost stood up and followed you to your room.

Shutting the door behind you, you sat on your bed, patting the space next to you. “Thank you for being a friend. It’s scary how alike we are. I only have one friend back at hom, well, two if you could his husband, you’d like him. He’s full of trauma like me.” You chuckled.

“Anytime.” He said. You looked at him and then placed your hands on your mask. Slowly you pulled it up revealing your face. Your hair is in French braids but a little messier. He sees the scar on your face, a big burn scar all over your cheek, and partly on your forehead, but he still thinks you are beautiful.

“I don’t see the ugliness,” he said stroking your scarred cheek.

“Show me your face?” you asked. He pulled his mask up placing it down on yours and he ruffled his hair. He had a deep scar on his lower cheek down to his Adam's apple, “your handsome. The scar makes you look, dangerous.” You admitted.

“I am dangerous.” He replied. You giggled, and his heart started to beat faster. “And so are you Cat.”

You wanted to kiss him and like he read your mind he placed both hands on your cheeks and pulled you close kissing you passionately. He was going to help you feel normal, to feel spoiled and loved for the first time in your life.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon riley x y/n #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley imagine #ghost x reader #ghost fanfiction #ghost x you #ghost x y/n #ghost imagine #marvel #taskmaster #the avengers #cat x simon

[valkyrieandstrangeridingaragorn]

This is why all his promises fall flat in every movie. He kept saying he had learnt his lesson, that he won't make the same mistake again, he goes back to being with Pepper… but time and time again he reverts back to his old self. He never learns anything. It got to a point where he would promise to never do the same thing again and I just laughed. Sure buddy, you won't.

The Ultron fiasco is taken by the entire team as a whole, in fact in Agents of Shield they have a scene where some Shield execs claim the team had created Ultron - not just Stark or Banner, the entire Avengers team - and if Shield believed that you can bet the public did as well. So Stark never went out to admit he had made that mistake, and what he does in CW is even worse.

Besides the Accords and the attempted murder on Bucky, when Friday told him Zemo had impersonated Bucky to frame him for the bomb in Vienna, does Stark share that with the public? No, he does not. And the media were all going hard on Bucky for that, saying his name and showing his picture on the news. It is heavily implied in Black Panther that it was T'Challa who told the media that Bucky was innocent. What does that say about Stark? That he's so vindictive that he's okay with letting the public think Bucky had committed a crime he had not? Well, what am I saying… he let his team rot in the Raft.

He tries to force the team to sign the Accords but the very moment he disagrees with them he violates them. He tells Clint: "You broke the law, I didn't make you. You read it, you broke it" mere minutes before he chooses to break that law himself. And he has the audacity to tell Steve he didn't inform Ross of where he was going otherwise he would get arrested. Hypocrite much?

We get countless people asking for Wanda or Bruce or Bucky or even Steve to have to pay for the consequences of their actions as if Stark didn't return to his million-dollar compound after levelling an entire country, as if he didn't go back to his luxurious life after violating the Accords he had previously signed, as if he hasn't been allowed to walk free after making a fortune out of war profiteering, as if he wasn't treated as a hero despite creating Edith, as if he hadn't gone back home free as a bird after committing attempted murder on an innocent man.

#anti tony stark #team cap

[spiders-hth-is-an-outlier]

Nobody really cares anymore (and the irony is that I actually like Civil War pretty well in general) but when I think about the quality of the writing that they offered us for Bucky Barnes, I still get just like. Actively angry.

Here's the setup: Steve is a hero, through and through. This plot requires him to do something that The Powers That Be deem a crime, but we're going to agree with Steve that it has to be done regardless. We need to see his actions not as a betrayal of his heroism, but the fulfillment of it. That's like, the fuckin plot of this Captain America movie: the world's evaluation of what a hero does is flawed, but Steve's isn't, he's Trustworthy (and therefore justified in placing his own moral judgments quite literally above the law). Is it a good idea to tell that story? Idk, very possibly not, but we're doing it! They picked the plot, not me, here we go!

The crime the writers have chosen to stake Steve's character on is that he's going to meddle in an international manhunt for a terrorist. It's against the law, so check. And eventually we learn that Bucky is innocent of this crime, so retroactively Steve's actions feel justified, but crucially at the time he acts, Steve doesn't know that. He's not acting to exonerate Bucky, or even to help him escape; he's interfering explicitly because he thinks law enforcement won't (probably can't, likely won't even try to) take Bucky alive. Steve fully expects Bucky to go to prison forever, he just has this one hope: if he breaks the law, fucks up the op, and gets there first, Bucky might not have to die.

Now, I think that's pretty good, on paper. It's a big swing that Steve takes, even knowing all eyes are already on him as a potential threat due to his unwillingness to sign the Sokovia Accords, and he does it for this incredibly small, incredibly subjective human experience: he just can't bear to see this murderer who used to be his friend gunned down like a dog. After all the help he's failed to give Bucky, he wants to save him from this one final brutality. Good stuff! Works beautifully with the overall theme of Steve's essential humanity and his ability to leverage it in the face of cruelty.

But what the movie obviously really wants isn't to frame this crime as Steve's emotions getting the best of him, because if that's what he's doing, then Tony is effectively right and the Sokovia Accords are fundamentally just -- nobody, not even Steve Freaking Rogers, can be trusted not to do crimes for selfish human reasons. That's what you would need oversight and punishment for. If Steve is just committing a crime because it's good for his friend, then the intractable moral struggle of the movie is solved and Steve is an asshole for insisting that the Accords can only interfere with his ability to act when it's "necessary." It's a Captain America movie, and the writers don't want to do that. So Steve has to be somehow correct to make this call completely on his own, even before he knows that Bucky isn't a terrorist. That's a writing problem!

The only way to solve this is to somehow convince the audience that it's even more wrong for Bucky to die. They have the groundwork laid -- the Winter Soldier is a killer but Bucky isn't, so if the Winter Soldier committed this crime, maybe it's still morally correct to save Bucky's life. And that of course is the angle the movie takes -- for all this to work, we have to believe that there's a Bucky, that he's not the reason any of this has happened, and that he doesn't deserve to pay for what the Winter Soldier is guilty of.

All of this is to say that the existence and nature of Bucky Barnes as a human character is vitally important to this movie. He has to be a person we hope and believe still exists, that we hope and believe is still separate from the Winter Soldier programming, and that we find worth all the massive physical and moral risks Steve takes on his behalf. All of this is to say, nothing matters more to this movie than establishing Bucky's character. It's literally the entire fucking ballgame, story wise and thematically.

And they do a criminally fucking terrible job of that. It's just. It's so bad, you guys. They build in a scene where Bucky has to prove he's himself to Steve -- THE WHOLE POINT, IT'S THE POINT OF THE MOVIE -- and what do they come up with? He knows Steve's mom's name, and a non-specific anecdote about Depression-Era shoe life hacks. Steve's like, oh, nobody could just know that, but 1) of course they could, the first is probably on Steve's Wikipedia page and the second could easily be a lucky guess, and B) this is the movie's One Big Chance to show us some particularity of who Bucky is, who he and Steve were together, why this has all been worth it and will still be worth what's coming up. Whatever Bucky says in this moment should break the audience, it should be so tender or distinctive or brave or poignant or thoughtful or something that we, in that moment, see the person that Steve would do anything for, and we get it. But the writers can't think of shit. They come up with Steve's mom's name.

And it's not an isolated problem. There's another moment right before the fight when they can connect over a shared memory, and again, the writers totally fail to come up with a memory that means something or conveys something or demonstrates something. They went to a carnival and Bucky like, blew all their money on a girl or whatever. But that's an irrelevant story! Bucky isn't being presented as a hothead or someone who never thinks about the future, that's not something the writers are trying to impress on us. None of this happened because Bucky is a fool for love or a hedonist who'd rather have a great night at the carnival than plan for the trip home. I guess those are character traits, but they're not tied to anything in any of the three movies we've seen him in! The story means nothing, at a climactic moment where everything hangs on the question of what Bucky is going to do in this conflict, the question of what kind of person he is.

Everything about Bucky's characterization is slapdash and superficial like that. He likes Steve. He likes fun, I guess. He's a good soldier but didn't really want to be a soldier the way Steve did. He likes Steve. His family seems to like Steve, too. Like, are you fucking kidding me with this? This is Net Zero Information. They are just simply not interested in Bucky being a distinctive person. I as the audience am just supposed to note that Steve likes him and transfer those emotions to my own hard-drive. He's a sexy lamp, and I'm not even attracted to him. He's just there for Steve to have an arc about, and I think it's criminal that over three films and god knows how many writers, nobody bothered to make him worth my emotional investment. He's got like 15 lines across the whole trilogy and they're mostly variations on "I'm Steve's good friend Bucky." I'm sure he is Steve's good friend Bucky, but that has fuckall to do with me! I'm supposed to feel things, I bought tickets to these movies!

It's lazy. It's sloppy. It's corner-cutting and at what these movies cost to make, I don't think they should be cutting corners, it's disrespectful. That shit would never fly in fanfiction.

Anyway I actually like Civil War. I just have to breathe into a paper bag and focus on Spider-Man when I get too exercised about this in particular.

[8bitluck]

IN DEFENSE OF HELMUT ZEMO: I would also be pretty pissed if my military squad was called in to defend sokovia then promptly have my entire country destroyed and my entire family die. Oh and not to mention, the fact the Avengers just walked away from it and got to go home to whatever family and place they had. like yes, your honor, he may technically be a terrorist...But he was well motivated

#zemo #helmut zemo #baron zemo #bucky barnes #the avengers #avengers #marvel #sokovia #zemo apologist #Zemo deserved better #like yes #he commited war crimes and framed bucky #however #I do not blame him #I also hate the avengers homie #you arent alone #this is obviously a joke #zemo is still a terrorist

[sgtjbbhasmyheart]

Drunk Texting Is(n’t) Bad for Your Health- Chapter Seven

Series Summary: Talk about your unconventional meet-cute! Bucky receives a text by mistake requesting he prove he’s not Reader’s sister. The easy dialogue between Reader and Bucky sparks a natural friendship, but could it lead to more? Bucky still deems himself unworthy of any form of affection or love. Reader is hellbent to prove him wrong. With the help of some (meddling) friends along the way, Bucky may get his happily-ever-after after all.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 2684

Warnings: ANGST, bad language words

A/N: Thank you, thank you, thank you for all your love and support for this series! Everyone who has liked or reblogged this week after week means the world to me!

A/N 2: I split their date into 2 parts because I wanted to give perspective from both sides. Enjoy Bucky’s POV first!

DO NOT copy or replicate without my permission.

An anxiousness bubbled up inside Bucky as he and (Y/N) stepped out of her office building and onto the crowded Manhattan sidewalk. It was five o’clock, meaning every other yuppie in New York was trying to get somewhere as well. Walking shoulder to shoulder with her felt like a feat in itself. Everyone around them seemed to be heading in the opposite direction, and they were fighting against the current like a pair of spawning salmon swimming upstream.

With his size and stature, most passers-by gave Bucky a wide berth. But with (Y/N), they didn’t. They jostled her like a small boat caught at sea during a storm; they gave her no mind in their rudeness. She fought to stay astride him as businessmen shouldered past her like a runningback fighting to make it to the endzone.

A feeling of protectiveness washed over him. Longing to whisk (Y/N) away from her place on the dirty cement increased with every step. The defensive surge fizzing right below the surface wanted him to tuck her into his side and glower at anyone who dreamed of coming close.

Bucky couldn’t, of course. He had to play it as if they’d only met a few days ago, no matter how much he wanted to. Instead, he grasped her empty hand and led her through the swarm of fellow New Yorkers.

(Y/N)’s hand was warm inside his, and the very thought of him touching her made his pulse quicken. The reaction wasn’t unpleasant. Though, it fuzzily reminded him of his teenage years. He was nearly one hundred years old! He shouldn’t be acting like a lovesick fool.

But here he was- swooning over a girl like he was fifteen again.

Bucky felt a yanking on his arm as (Y/N) pulled him from the stream of rushing bodies. Unmoving, at the edge of the rush, he found it was easier to breathe again. The fretfulness bled away once they were standing still.

He peered around, questioning why they’d stopped. Wedged between two high-rise buildings was a squat cafe. The shop’s window front beamed onto the footpath like the mecca it was, calling bystanders in from the street. Above the green striped awning over the entrance spelled out Deja Brew in colorful, blocky letters. Bucky chuckled at the play on words.

Towing the door open, (Y/N) tugged him in further.

Stepping inside the brightly lit coffee shop, Bucky was blanketed by the overpowering scent of fresh coffee grounds. It was potent, hanging thick in the air. Taking a deep breath in, he was transported back to a rickety kitchen and a second-hand table, where he and Steve would take their morning coffee and breakfast. The smell reminded him of simpler times. Times before all the trouble Hydra had caused. He let go of a nostalgic sigh.

“Right?” (Y/N) asked, standing at his side. He’d nearly forgotten she was there. “I love it here. It always feels like coming home.”

Bucky grinned down at (Y/N), understanding how she felt. The exposed brick walls, the tidy, destressed floors, and the primary colors being strewn about the space gave him a sense of sentimentality.

“I come in here several times a week,” she explained. “Not just because it’s convenient, but it reminds me of growing up.”

Bucky nodded in agreement, taking in the warm atmosphere of the quaint shop. “I get that.”

The pair strolled up to the counter and, presumably, the barista taking orders. Without looking in their direction, the young man in an apron spoke in a monotone, “Welcome to Deja Brew. What can I get started for you?”

A smile slowly crawled across (Y/N)’s lips. “Hey, Bryson. Didn’t know you were working tonight?”

Bryson’s head whipped up so fast; Bucky thought it might detach from his shoulders. His cheeks dimpled, and the corners of his striking green eyes crinkled into a bright smile. “Hey, beautiful!” Bryson beamed. “I’m doing a double--covering for Kari. I wasn’t expecting you tonight.”

“You know me,” (Y/N) said with a tinkling laugh. “Just can’t stay away.” Bryson replied with his own laughter.

A flare of jealousy twisted unexpectedly in Bucky’s gut. Was (Y/N) flirting?

Bucky supposed he could consider Bryson classically handsome. He was taller than Bucky with short, sandy brown hair and broad shoulders. His muscular frame filled out the black polo shirt he wore, but he wasn’t overly bulky- like he played baseball in college. There was a smattering of light freckles over his high cheekbones and straight nose. And eyelashes to rival Steve’s.

Was this his competition?

Bucky grumbled to himself and gritted his teeth as he watched the two giggle over some inside joke. There was an envious gnawing behind his ribcage as Bryson leaned onto his elbows over the countertop, inching closer to (Y/N). That was his girl!

Without warning, like a shaken soda bottle, his voice exploded from his mouth, dripping annoyance, “I’ll take a medium Americano, a chocolate croissant, and whatever the lady is having.”

Shocked back into the present by Bucky’s gruff words, Bryson shot upright. His startled green eyes shifted from (Y/N) to Bucky and back again. Bucky could barely contain his eye-roll as the other man feigned busyness after being caught slacking. It was apparent Bryson only had eyes for (Y/N), or he would have noticed she wasn’t alone, despite Bucky standing mere centimeters away from her.

Possessiveness tingled at Bucky’s fingertips, and the compulsion to wrap his arm around (Y/N)’s waist was strong. He wanted so badly to reach out and pull her close. Show this punk who she belonged to.

Regardless of his feelings, though, Bucky had no claim over (Y/N). He’d known her as Bucky for a scant three days. He imagined she’d known Bryson a lot longer. He couldn’t profess his desire to be hers in such a short time, no matter the urgency. It would come off as weird and controlling.

So, he resolved to bite the inside of his cheek and grin and bear it. He could bide his time, right? He’d waited seventy years. What’s another seventy more?

Bucky cringed internally at the thought of waiting.

“(Y/N), you know this guy?” Bryson inquired, acting as if he’d finally grown a pair, with a bite to his words.

Bucky’s pulse fluttered as (Y/N) turned to face him, a smile on her lips and something sparkling in her eyes. “I do,” she said. “He’s my date.” She grinned bigger with a cute scrunch to her nose as she said date.

Bryson’s eyes widened in alarm, then quickly narrowed in suspicion as he observed the flowers (Y/N) held. Bucky wondered, momentarily, if he was the first guy (Y/N) had ever brought into the shop. Was Bryson just as jealous as he was?

It wasn’t until he saw the almost imperceivable head tilt to get (Y/N) to step away from Bucky’s side did he realize what Bryson’s genuine concern was about.

(Y/N)’s brow furrowed in confusion as she took a stride to her right.

In a hushed whisper, Bryson asked, “You know who he is, right?” Bucky’s super-hearing picked up every word.

(Y/N) unsuccessfully tried to blink away her uncertainty, causing her eyebrows to pinch together further. “Who exactly is he, Bryson?” (Y/N) pondered, an edge of irritation leaking into her speech. She crossed her arms over her chest, drawing her sweater tighter around her body.

Bucky could hear it in her voice. (Y/N) knew precisely what Bryson had meant and was trying to draw it out of him.

“You know,” Bryson said, not even trying to whisper anymore. “He’s that guy.”

(Y/N) cocked her head to the side a fraction. “You mean the guy who the US government exonerated for any and all crimes he may have committed as The Winter Soldier? You mean that guy?” (Y/N) deadpanned, uncrossing her arms. Bryson stared at her blankly.

“What about the guy who got drafted into a war unwillingly?” (Y/N) continued. “Or the one captured by the enemy and experimented on against his will?” Her hands curled into fists as the tension in her body rose. Bryson’s eye contact suddenly became very jumpy, unable to focus on her now and for a good reason.

“How about the guy who fell from a train- survived- and had his arm barbarically amputated?”

Bucky watched (Y/N)’s hands tighten further, blanching her knuckles of any color. He shuffled forward, ready to jump in if need be. Although, she was doing a good job holding her own.

“Don’t forget about that one guy who was tortured and abused, brainwashed, and forced to commit unspeakable atrocities for over seventy years, all in the name of a cult,” (Y/N) stated, pressing her palms flat against the countertop and ducking her head, trying to catch Bryson’s eye. His face flushed visibly in embarrassment.

“In case you aren’t caught up on your current events, Bryson, that guy’s name is Bucky Barnes,” (Y/N) spit sardonically.

Bryson raised his eyes at this, and the look on his face darkened. “Regardless of whether he was brainwashed or not, he’s an Avenger,” Bryson sneered, his gaze sliding to Bucky. “And that makes him dangerous.”

What the hell was this guy’s problem? Bucky wondered, wanting to wipe the smirk off his smug face.

(Y/N) let out a humorless huff of a laugh. Her lips spread into a thin line. “No more dangerous than the possibility of being struck by lightning or getting hit by a subway train.”

Bucky chuckled inwardly as Bryson flexed his jaw in frustration. (Y/N) was really getting to him.

Bryson’s expression morphed into something more sinister. “I mean, are you really going to take the word of some ‘expert’ from a third-world country that he won’t turn into a murder-bot again?” The air-quotes in his tone punctuated the contempt he undeniably felt.

Anger blossomed in Bucky’s chest at the degrading mention of the Princess of Wakanda. He owed everything to Shuri. If it weren’t for her, he definitely wouldn’t be in New York right now but on the run again. Shuri saved his life.

Bucky took a step toward the counter, intending to do something, anything to shut this jackass up. Instead, (Y/N) placed a calming hand to his sternum, stopping him from doing anything rash. The look of disdain on Bryson’s face amplified the longer (Y/N)’s touch lingered on his body, and that was equally as satisfying as causing this prick bodily harm.

“While your concern is unwarranted,” (Y/N) assured, “it’s also unwanted. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

She gazed up into Bucky’s blue eyes fondly; a charming smile curled at her lips. “Besides, I don’t think he’d hurt a fly now.”

“It’s your funeral,” Bryson mumbled under his breath. (Y/N) didn’t catch it, or she paid it no mind.

The affection Bucky felt for (Y/N) at that moment swelled exponentially. He was in love with her, he realized. It was no longer just a crush.

No one, other than Steve, had ever championed for him as openly or as forcefully as she had just then. The adoration accumulating in his heart felt like it would erupt at any minute. She made him want to believe in love again. She made him think he might be worthy of that love someday.

He’d have to find a way to earn it, somehow.

Staring into her beautiful face and seeing compassion and empathy made him want to press his lips to hers. He still couldn’t believe she’d found him on accident. It was all so serendipitous.

There was one crucial roadblock obstructing his path to happiness, though. One he couldn’t possibly ignore for much longer without consequences— figuring out how to tell (Y/N) he and James were the same. But how?

Until then, he’d enjoy the ride.

“Hey, Bryson,” (Y/N) vocalized, her timbre a saccharine sweet. “I’ll take a medium iced mocha with extra whip and a white chocolate raspberry scone as well.” She winked at Bucky.

A scoff came from low in the pastry case causing Bucky and (Y/N) to titter in laughter.

“Wow. That was-” Bucky started, trying to find the words to explain how her coming to his defense made him feel.

(Y/N)’s pupils dilated, the gravity of the situation sinking in. “Oh, my God!” she said in a near panic. “I’m so sorry!”

Bucky smiled at her warmly. “There’s nothing to be sorry for.” He brushed a stray hair from her cheek delicately, his fingers dallying along the soft skin. The palm of his hand settled just below her ear, on the side of her neck. His thumb bobbed up and down with every clench and unclenching of her jaw.

“You must be so sick of hearing the same argument over and over again. People deciding your guilt or innocence based on first glances,” (Y/N) murmured, finally dropping her hand from his chest.

Bucky wondered if she could feel the pounding of his heart through all the layers of clothes he was wearing. “It’s nice to have a cheerleader, for once,” he answered honestly.

The corner of (Y/N)’s mouth quirked up. “I’ll always be in your corner, Bucky.”

His stomach dipped at her words’ implications. He whole-heartedly believed she would. “Thank you.”

(Y/N) shrugged in response. Over her bouncing shoulder, Bucky caught a glimpse of Bryson scowling at the two of them from his spot at the espresso machine. Bile churned in his belly. Bryson was turning into a nuisance, like a mosquito at a summer barbeque.

Bucky brought the hand at (Y/N)’s neck down to her upper arm and rubbed it gently. “Why don’t you find us a seat. I’ll finish up here,” he said, giving her a lopsided grin. She returned the gesture and nodded her head in acquiescence, sweeping past him.

Bucky followed her movements through the coffeehouse as she picked a cushioned bistro set positioned near the front windows. The waning light of the day cascaded through the clear glass, highlighting her delicate, feminine features. She was breathtaking.

Turning to face the dreadful barista, the grin on Bucky’s lips faded into a frown.

Bryson set their order down roughly on the register counter and proceeded to punch in the items on the touchscreen. He remained silent, mulishly waiting for payment. The death glare he wore seemed to be permanently etched into his features now.

Bucky could tell he was seething; the vein in his forehead throbbed with every beat of his pulse. Instead of engaging, though, Bucky smirked and slid a twenty-dollar bill toward the other man.

Bryson angrily scooped up the money. He bent his head closer to Bucky, gnashing his teeth. “If you hurt a single hair on her head, I will burn you to the ground,” he taunted, reaching into the till for change and tossing it on the counter.

Bucky’s expression never faltered. His exterior remained composed, cool as a cucumber. Inside, he raged like a bull seeing the color red. He wanted nothing more than to mop the floor with this asshole’s face. Alternatively, he gathered the littered change and dumped it all into the tip jar sitting beside the register. He stared Bryson dead in the face, a ghost of a smile still clinging to his mouth. “And if I ever hear of you treating (Y/N) with the blatant disrespect you showed her today…” Bucky paused, his voice calm and controlled. He leaned forward, pushing in closer to Bryson’s ear. “They’ll never find your body.”

The joy he felt coursing through his body as Bryson’s eyes stretched to the size of saucers and his Adam’s apple wobbled as he gulped in fear was indescribable.

Bucky gathered their drinks and pastries, pivoting towards the table where (Y/N) sat. He shouted over his shoulder as he walked away, “Have a good day, Bryson!”

Chapter Six (Part 2) | Chapter Eight

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#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky fanfiction #bucky fanfic #drunk texting is(n't) bad for your health #dtibfyh #shannon writes

[blackqueenofhearts]

On Ayo taking Bucky's arm.....

So I'm seeing a lot of posts on how Bucky is somehow being betrayed by Ayo for disengaging his arm?

Sorry-- but I'm gonna call bullshit.

Do ya'll remember when Zemo framed Bucky for the murder of the Wakandan king and T'Challa just straight up came for Bucky in Civil War. T'Challa almost killed Bucky for a crime that he did not commit-- and when he found out it was really Zemo who killed his father?

He tried to make amends....to Bucky.

He offered him sanctuary in Wakanda and offered to help remove the trigger words from his mind-- and even had a new arm built for him by Shuri who was also responsible for the removal of the trigger words.

Becuase T'Challa also witnessed how Zemo was able to usurp Bucky's will with the trigger words and literally turn him into the killing machine that was the Winter Solider. So T'challa witnessed all of that and offered Bucky refuge and treatment.

Wakanda also gave Bucky a fucking vibranium arm! That arm is practically indestructible and a formidable weapon. They even gave Bucky the nickname of the White Wolf-- and nicknames are usually given as signs of affection and friendship. In a way-- the Wakandans kind of adopted Bucky as one of them.

Which should really tell you something since the Wakadans don't usually accept outsiders.....so what does that say they gave Bucky sanctuary, a nickname, and a formidable weapon to protect himself with?

That they care for him--- but at the same time.--They do realize that Bucky is dangerous. He used to be the gotdamn winter solider and they probably had to come to the conclusion that if Bucky was ever compromised or he became a danger to them--They had to be able to disarm him.

The Black panther movie showed us something critical about Wakanda. They protect their own-- and even if they cared for Bucky-- the man just broke Zemo out of jail. The man who killed their king.. and led to a power vacuum between Erik Killmonger and T'challa and almost started a civil war in their nation.

So Ayo being able to take Bucky's arm? Understandable.

Bucky had just released a threat to their way of life-- and Ayo was sending Bucky a warning when she disengaged his arm. She was reminding his that the arm was a gift from her people and that he should tread carefully-- that he was still a friend to them-- but he was cutting it fucking close.

Bucky needed that reality check.

#james bucky barnes #bucky barnes #tfatws #falcon and winter solider series #falcon and the winter solider #Ayo

[b-hardys]

final girl.

falcon and the winter soldier has me on my marvel bullshit ... pairing: bucky x reader (partially oc, I don't think there is anything too oc in here but I could be wrong. contains references of being alongside bucky with hydra, that’s probably the most oc element). part one of ??? let's see how fatws goes. spoiler-ish ... I'd recommend watching the episode first! + not proofread! @eusuntgroot <33

The world Post-Blip was so hideously confusing. And even more so, when the past eighty or so years of your life had been spent frozen like prematurely bought meat and only thawed out to commit heinous crimes - solo or with the only other pardoned war criminal that you knew. And when your only connection to your past self is through research into obituaries, that pardoned war criminal can seem like the only other person that truly understands you.

The lines between this connection remaining healthy and constructive and tumbling down to something tumultuous and concerning occasionally blurred, but the two were blindly none-the-wiser. For two previous highly intelligent weapons of mass destruction, they were quite dense … and stubborn if you asked Sam (do ask Sam).

The emotional dependence between the two, while encouraged by her therapist, was an ever-growing weight upon the pair's shoulders, an itch they could not help but scratch. But, it wasn’t (and isn’t) all existential thoughts and passing comments about growing independence through the growth of their pseudo-partner to their therapists.

The pardon and lack of wanted media attention about the pair (what government wants to rehash the unveiling of the institute that was supposed to be protecting them … was fully infiltrated by a terrorist organisation?), this insane idea of normality was their present issue.

“You’re free…” Bucky couldn’t believe the insinuation. Free to do what? Toss and turn over the mere thought that individuals' relatives live their day to day lives, tormented by the what if’s and the mystery surrounding their deaths, that he caused. Free to roam throughout this Post-Blip world? Well, the Government regulated therapy that currently needs to be in-person to assess whether he is a risk to the public would most likely negate that idea.

Free to date? Free to be happy? Free to live alone in an apartment with a bed so soft it was almost sickening to lay on? Bucky found himself so troubled by the notion of his freedom … making amends was the current plan but what happens when there is nothing to amend? His body clock is stuck in his thirties (he thinks) and these people all age like regular human beings.

One thing Bucky knew for certain was that he was free to roam the streets of Brooklyn at two am. He could convince himself that he was aimlessly wandering, but by now the path he is taking should be burned into the pavement.

She’d moved close by. Her only tie to any community was and is him. Not to make anything strange, they had definitely spoken about it beforehand. The invitation from Maria Hill to stay in some sterile facility, while convenient, felt too much like confinement. Like regulated surveillance, an overseeing eye … whether she meant it like that, or not.

It was the minor details that mattered. The knock that was so specific to Bucky, she always knew it was him. The devilish details of the doormat she had purchased at some bodega that laid out front of her door (the italic ‘leave’ always brought a sliver of a smile to his face), or how he just knew that when he eventually entered the tiny apartment he would be bombarded by greenery and miscellaneous throw blankets adorning the furniture - a habit developed in Romania, their four walls had been so drab to hide out in, but the minor details that she sprinkled around trying to obtain some semblance of normality, even in private, lingered.

The concoction of chemicals and conditioning that they endured, as much as they tried to ignore them, did enhance day to day life. Bucky could hear the pitter-patter of her footsteps as she sluggishly made her way to her front door. While the journey may be small, the exhaustion can increase the time it takes to even check the time on your phone.

“Can’t sleep?” Her voice … like an orchestra at their finest. Smooth, and so soft, even after years of unspeakable, relentless breakage, these moments between the two remain so soft.

“Can you?” He supposes, pardoned and civilian life had enhanced some sort of personality that must’ve lingered from the before. And she had no issue rolling her eyes and scoffing at his sarcasm, and occasional pessimism.

She’d clearly rolled out of bed to come open the door. The guilt was gnawing at him, had she been getting some sleep? At least an hour uninterrupted before the horror had decided to rear its hideous head. The nightmares paralysed her originally. She could spend days retracted in on herself. A shell of who she had blossomed into. Lying there staring out the bay window … just blank. Empty.

Her hands reached out to caress his face, fingers delicately brushing over the apparent darkness under his eyes. It was unspoken, the care that they felt for one another. This unrelenting instinct to protect, to nurture the other. He felt as if he was existing outside himself. How could someone like him be caressed so delicately, be led so quietly through her personal space to the bed only elevated by shipping palettes.

Shedding the excess clothing he had only thrown on to ‘walk around’ (who was he kidding, he knew where he was going), he let himself focus on her. The sweater slightly too large for her frame, the pyjama pants that had caricatures of frogs adorning them, at first glance you wouldn’t believe that the former Slice had even existed. That her draws had false bottoms that still hid knives.

They fell into such comfortable silence, the sound of the humidifier humming in the background filling the space. They moved on autopilot, Bucky to ‘his’ side of the bed while she climbed back up on the mound of pillows she had created on her mattress that felt like a rock. The two glanced at each other in passing, no bashful blushing cheeks but just, content. They slot so easily across from one another, a sliver of space between them as they closed their eyes, pinkies reaching out towards the other.

It was this comfort that grounded the two. The world Post-Blip so far, was overwhelming, overstimulating … interesting. But this unspoken connection between the two was grounding. And they would most definitely need it. The two retired, pardoned assassins had no idea of what was on the horizon, what was lying in waiting for the two to, maybe, get a night of uninterrupted sleep. How tragic.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #i may delete this ... idk hehe #🕊

[hawkeye221b]

.Y’know what?

I’m gonna rant about James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes and how dirty Steve did him in Endgame.

Why?

Because my man is suffering and i wanna talk about it. (putting in a read more cause length)

This man grew up protecting and helping Steve, only to be shipped off to war (i say shipped because our man was DRAFTED) and he was still protecting Steve.

My man was prepared to die for Steve Rodgers and instead got turned into a weapon to be abused, tortured and used against everything he fought to protect, including Steve himself.

Then!! When he gets a moment to himself (during Civil War) he gets framed for a crime he didn’t commit! And like any ex-assasin who suddenly has a lot of attention on him, he runs because he’s scared! He was trying to live his life and he couldn’t anymore because he got framed and pushed into yet another fight after years and years of literal brainwashing and torture to be a weapon he never wanted.

The, as he says, he got a moment of calm in Wakanda, but it wasn’t forever. He knew it wasn’t forever, but he still went and rested for a moment of peace because Steve was there to help him, if even for a moment.

Steve

Mr. Steve “til the end of the line” Rodgers

And not only that, but in Endgame, our man was fresh back from the Snap and still fighting. He never stopped and yet Steve decided he had more with Peggy, a woman who’d already lived her life and had her family, was more important than someone who was alone in a time he really didn’t belong in with people he barely knew, or who really couldn’t understand the trauma he’d been through.

So not only was he hurt by Sam giving up something Steve believed in (i.e; Sam being worthy of becoming the next Captian America), but by the fact no one seems to understand why Bucky is so angry and alone.

Mr. “Til the end of the line” cut off the line when Steve wanted it to end, rather than when Bucky needed it to end, which wasn’t even close to being done.

Idk yall i just got lots of thoughts and feelings

#falcon and the winter solider spoilers #falcon and the winter solider #Bucky Barnes #Steve Rogers #fatws

[wkemeup]

By Any Other Name (2)

series summary: When Special Agent Bucky Barnes is tasked with infiltrating the notorious gang Hydra and gathering evidence against its leader, Brock Rumlow, Bucky finds himself drawn to the woman who doesn’t seem to belong in this world of violence, the wife of the head of Hydra… you. pairing: bucky x reader chapter word count: 6.7k warnings: descriptions of a controlling relationship, bucky is undercover as james, a wild peter appears, brock is an asshole 🌹series masterlist 🌹

“I thought I told you to keep these out of sight.”

Brock held up a copy of Jane Eyre, waving it around impatiently as you crossed the room to take it off his hands. You held the book close to your chest, brushing your hands along the fabric of the aged binding and took in the comforting scent of the pressed paper and ink. There was a slight aroma of aged brandy that burned in your nose and you looked down at the book to find a splash of Brock’s drink seeping into the cover of the near two century year old novel.

“Sorry,” you muttered, thumb brushing against the stain, a slight tremor in your voice. You turned to leave the room but Brock’s hand caught on the edge of your dress, grabbing a firm hold of the fabric and you stilled instantly. Your grasp on the book ached in your hands.

“You forgot something, baby.”

Muscles tensing, body clenching, you took a deep breath and pushed out a smile as you turned around to face him, leaning down and pressing a kiss to his lips. He tasted of cigar smoke and liquor despite the clear blue of the morning sky outside. You held onto the book pressed against your heart like it was a lifeline as he caged you with a hand gripped into your hair.

He let you go with a satisfied hum and you exhaled a breath of relief. He turned back to the papers on his lap without another thought to you and you quickly disappeared from the living room to return the book to its home.

Chills pressing bumps into your skin, you rushed down the hall until you found the sanctity of the library and closed the doors shut behind you. Leaning against the frame, you glanced down at the book, running a hand across the blue cover, tracing along silver lettering.

The stain had dried, a slight discoloration in the cover and you clenched your teeth so tightly it ached in the muscle. You set the book back on the shelve, squeezing it in amongst The Tales of Angria and Emma, your favorites in Bronte’s collection.

You stepped back from the shelf, admiring the precision of it, the colorings of the aged fabric of the covers and the intricately designed lettering on the bindings. It was beautiful; hundreds of years’ worth of knowledge and art and most brilliant creative works of humanity all gathered in a single room. Hundreds of thousands of dollars spent on these shelves. It was the only thing you put your time into these days; all that Brock would allow you access to the accounts for, so you didn’t get any… ideas.

You groaned, falling onto the couch and tucking your knees to your chest. A half empty cup of tea from the night before sat on the end table still seeping. There was a light ring forming under the cup, but you didn’t mind. It would add to the collection. Something about this place needed to feel imperfect and homey, unlike how polished and clinical as the rest of the mansion was.

It hadn’t always been this way, your relationship with Brock. You didn’t always feel so trapped in your own home, restricted to putting everything you had into a single outlet and spending your life locked away in a room your husband didn’t bother to ever step inside.

You had met Brock when you were a professor at Columbia in one of the cafes down by your office building. He had a charming kind of smile and was impossibly sweet for his stature and the scars littering his skin. He was easy to fall in love with and you supposed just about anyone would be if they were purposely catering every thought, feeling, and behavior to mold into what you wanted him to be.

He played the part of a loving boyfriend for nearly three years. You’d married quickly, with a short engagement, because he insisted he was just so in love that he couldn’t wait another second. You’d believed him because you were a girl who had grown up with an elusive father who spent more time in his office than at your recitals and scholarships ceremonies and poetry nights.

His disappointment in your love of the arts and literary fiction left a hole in your chest that Brock easily filled. Brock was the one who built the library in your shared home and encouraged you in your work at Columbia. He bragged incessantly about your accomplishments and joined you at every departmental fundraiser. He was perfect in every way, if only on paper.

Everything changed the night your father died and his millions were inherited to you, his only living child. Brock became distant and cold, and you had convinced yourself that he was grieving. He had been close with your father, after all, but the darkness never went away. He convinced you to transfer your inheritance to a joint account so he could take care of you, so you could take a step back and mourn without having to worry about paying bills and funeral costs and mortgages.

You never saw a penny of that money again.

It didn’t take long before you learned of Brock’s connections to Hydra, his apprenticeship under Alexander Pierce, and the crimes he committed in the dark cover of night when he slipped from your bed for nearly five years.

You supposed it was your own ignorance that let it go on for as long as it did or perhaps you were simply too naïve to see it, but Brock had held you down, tied and bound for years before you even felt the ropes.

You confronted him with the pieces you’d put together on his connection to the criminal world and he had threatened to turn you over to the police. It had been your money funneling Hydra and you were complicit, an accessory to every crime he’d committed and the blood money he’d made since.

He had you exactly where he wanted you; trapped, with nowhere to go, no friends or family to turn to. You hadn’t even realized how isolated you’d become until you were desperate to leave. He’d found a way to separate you from the last remaining friendships you’d had before you even knew they were gone.

So, you played the part of the doting wife. You did as he asked and kept up appearances when necessary. You went to his black tie events in expensive dresses and heels because it was what he demanded. You watched as he turned your father’s wealth into hundreds of millions of dollars through drug trafficking and weapons manufacturing, all while fighting off turf wars and ordering the executions of dozens of men.

He wanted you to conform to his life. He asked it of you every once in a while, for you to take your rightful place by his side and rule the city of New York together, but you told him to shove it. You wanted no part in the world he dragged you into, kept you locked away in by threat of extortion. He was a monster by your standards.

Your relationship with him was surface level. It was a political move to marry you, seeking out your father’s money. He’d forced you to step down from your position at Columbia, isolating you from the last remaining ties you had. He controlled every aspect of your life.

So, you kissed him when he asked, slept with him when he came onto you, because you were going through the motions. You kept yourself secluded to the one place that still managed to bring you joy; your library.

You were content. Numb, but content.

But something was different now. You couldn’t place what it was, but the unsettled need for more was returning to the surface and you were desperate to crawl your way out again.

A cool breeze swept in through the window, startling you out of your memories, and you shivered, turning to quickly close the draft as to not disturb the delicate temperatures needed to preserve the books. Locking the window shut, you turned and leaned against the wall, gazing out at the walled lined with countless novels, though your eyes kept falling back to a certain Bradbury novel with red flames intricately designed on the cover.

You sighed, grabbing your bag from the table and quickly made your way out to the car before Brock could notice you were gone.

***

You had the driver drop you off in Brooklyn, a few blocks off from the Queens border. It was part of your Sunday routine as much as you could manage to sneak away, to come into the softer side of the city and visit the shops and storefronts you’d frequented in your time before Brock.

You reveled in the feeling of the cold breeze against your every step, hands pressed into your pockets and nose tucking into a scarf when the chill started to bite.

You stopped in at your favorite bagel shop, the one with a few of the letters missing from the sign, and ordered your usual from the kind, middle-aged woman at the register. She smiled as she saw you, giving you a quick wave, as she finished up with the customer across the counter.

Stepping up to the counter, you took in a heavy breath of the fresh baked bread and the bacon sizzling on the table fryers. It was heaven in a shop.

“Hey, Mrs. Marselli,” you greeted, eyeing the order board though you had no intentions to change your mind, “I’ll take a—"

“Oh, don’t you worry, dear, I know it by heart,” she grinned, calling your order down to the last detail to her husband in the kitchen. You hadn’t changed your order in nearly three years and she winked at you. The bagel came only a few moments later wrapped up tight in tin foil.

“It smells amazing, as usual,” you grinned and slid a few extra dollars over the counter.

Mrs. Marselli picked up the cash and narrowed her eyes on it suspiciously. It wasn’t the first time you gave her more than what the bagel was worth. “This is too much, dear. I might need to send you back to school with my grandson!”

“Hmm, guess so,” you shrugged as you backed away, giving her no chance to hand you back the change and excess dollars. “Have a good day Mrs. Marselli! Tell Jim thanks for the bagel!”

“Will do, honey! Stay warm!

The next stop was down at the coffee joint on the corner of the block. It sat next to a Starbucks that usually had a line out the door, but you liked the family who ran Café Ramos and wanted to hear about whether Neftali’s son made the school musical.

The bell rang as you walked inside, a short blast of warm air pushing through the frame and you let out a sigh of relief and pulled the scarf down from your mouth. A messy mop of brown curls jumped up from the register where it looked like Mateo was trying to take a mid-morning nap.

“Y/n’s here!” Mateo shouted back to the kitchen, waving you over and quickly preparing your cup of hot warm. “What can I get you this time? We just got a gingerbread tea in time for the holidays? What about a chocolate lavender? Could always go apple caramel, too…”

“Whatever you think, Mateo,” you laughed, handing him the usual cost of the drink and told him to keep the change. He turned to grab a tea bag from the tin box with a small gingerbread drawing in brown crayon on the front label. “So, did you get the part of Bernardo or what? Don’t hold out on me, kid!”

“Who knows?” he sang with a huge grin, right in tune with the classic song ‘Something’s Coming’ straight from the West Side Story score. You squealed and gave him a high five, though he tried to play it cool. Most high school juniors did.

“That’s amazing, kid! I’m so happy for you,” you bit on your lip, trying to keep in your excitement. You’d known him since he was in elementary school and he talked nonstop of wanting to nab a lead in the high school play. This was his dream. “I want a ticket when you open, you hear me?”

Mateo’s cheeks flushed pink as he pressed the lid to your tea. “Bernardo doesn’t really sing a lot but I’ve got a lot of dance numbers and we all know the Sharks are way cooler than the Jets.”

“Well, count me in as team Shark,” you laughed, taking the tea as he handed it to you. It was piping hot but the smell was intoxicating. “Don’t forget to tell your mom I said thank you for the flowers she delivered to my aunt’s house last week. They were lovely.”

“Sure thing, Y/n!” Mateo called after you as you made your way to the door. He was a sweet kid.

There was as reason you looked forward to Sundays.

Most of the stops you made on your trips alone were filled with interactions like the sweet couple at the bagel joint and the Ramos family at the café, smiles and quick questions of how their day was going, but sometimes, you’d run into people on the street who recognized you for another reason, who knew of your connection to Rumlow and Hydra and they’d take one look at you before crossing the street or disappearing into an alleyway for an escape.

You clenched your jaw as it happened for the third time in only fifteen times.

This time, it was a young man, maybe in his college years with a dark purple bruise on his eye. He was walking with his head down, he almost didn’t notice you until he bumped hard enough into your shoulder to send you spiraling to the ground, trying to escape an oncoming biker who shouldn’t have been on the sidewalk in the first place.

The rest of your tea spilled to the sidewalk and the last bite of bagel was lost to the road. You only had a few sips of the tea anyway and it would give you a decent excuse to grab another on your way home, so it was no loss to you. Though, your tailbone would beg to differ.

“Oh shit! Sorry about tha–” The kid froze dead in his tracks when he finally got a look at you. He reached out quickly and pulled you to your feet, stepping away to give you distance.

“Hey, don’t worry about it,” you said, trying to laugh it off but you recognized that petrified look in his eye. He almost certainly knew your husband you wondered what he part of Brock’s world he could possibly be involved in at an age so young. He didn’t seem to be hearing a word you said, so you tried again. “No harm done, kid. Really. I’m perfectly fi–”

“Please, ma’am, I wasn’t lookin’ where I was going,” he begged suddenly, hands shaking now as he glanced around the street nervously, like he was waiting for an attack. “Please, don’t tell Mr. Rumlow. I didn’t– I didn’t mean to–”

He didn’t even give you a chance to convince him that you’d never tell Brock something so trivial and that he had no reason to be afraid, but he bolted off before you could.

“Wait!” you called after him, but it was no use. He was already down the block, glancing back at you over his shoulder like he was running from enemy fire. A frown pushed at your lips, aching in your cheeks as you picked up the empty cup and the foil from the bagel.

Murmurs of bystanders hung in the air around you and you noticed an elderly couple whispering amongst themselves and pointing in your direction. They knew who you were and gossiped amongst themselves. You just hoped word didn’t get back to Brock, but still, these sorts of things always did.

***

When you finally made it to the bodega in Queens, you spotted your cousin sitting on the edge of the sidewalk, mindlessly scrolling through his phone, though his mess of brown hair popped up at every horn that blared in the streets, which was pretty often.

“Parker!”

Peter’s head snapped up in your direction, smiling bright in relief, and he jumped up from the sidewalk, rushing the rest of the way and crashing into you at the center of the crosswalk. His grip around you was tight and he nuzzled the cold of his nose into your shoulder.

“I was starting to think you weren’t gonna show,” he mumbled. Voice muffled as spoke against the lining of your coat. It was a rough time of year for the Parkers. The anniversary of his uncle’s death had just passed last week. You let him hang onto you longer than usual.

You chuckled, glancing around at the pedestrians as they sent you irritable glares in their efforts to step around the two of you. You ushered Peter back over to the sidewalk, not daring to pry his arms from around you.

“Come on, Pete, you know I’d call if I couldn’t come,” you reminded him. “Besides, someone has to keep an eye on you, huh?”

He laughed a little, pulling himself away from your embrace and nodded.

“What’s on our agenda for today?” you inquired, nudging his shoulder to pull that smile out of him again.

“Aunt May wanted me to deposit some checks,” Peter said, gesturing to the lump in his coat pocket. They must be condolences from the funeral. It was nearly five years ago now, but May had a hard time bringing herself to deposit them. Looked like Peter finally convinced her to let them go. “The banks out in Brooklyn though, and I know you just came from there so it’s okay if you don’t want to walk that f—”

“I don’t mind,” you replied with a shrug, hoping to ease some of his tension. “It’s a nice day and I’ve got time.”

That got him smiling, at least.

As you followed Peter along the sidewalks back to Brooklyn, you were relieved to find that he still had the energy to talk a mile a minute, telling you everything from how school has been, his progress on his latest project for the science fair, his escapades with his buddy Ned, and the kid named Flash who had some kind of vendetta against him.

“How’s Michelle?” you asked him suddenly. He nearly choked on air, coughing to alleviate his surprise and you laughed into your scarf, trying to hold it back for the sake of his ego.

“Oh, she’s—uh—she’s good,” he stuttered, chuckling nervously and running a hand through his hair. “I was thinking I might try and find this necklace for her, actually. She really likes the Black Dalilah. You know, like the murder?”

You raised an eyebrow, listening intently as Peter explained and you couldn’t help but feel grateful you weren’t in high school anymore. All these rules about how to interact with everyone and constant pressure to say the right thing. It was exhausting. Though, if you were honest with yourself, your life wasn’t much different now as it was then.

“What about you? How are things with Brock?”

You blinked a few times, surprised to look up and find you were a few blocks past where you’d last checked. You brushed a hand through your hair, shaking out the knots.

“Oh, you know, same as usual,” you said, not willing to give Peter any more detail than he needed. He knew nothing of the underground world your husband operated in and you planned to keep it that way. As far as Peter knew, Brock was the owner of a dance club in midtown. Nothing more.

There was an ache in your voice though, a slight sort of tremble that Peter usually picked up on though he didn’t force it. You felt his eyes as he glanced over at you, hands tucked into his pockets and shoulders hunched up by his ears to hide from the cold, trying to find evidence of your hurt upon your face. Your eyes were downcast, lips pressed to a frown.

He’d seen the change in you after your father died and he had thought it was grief, even for a man who wasn’t around much to begin with. He had tried to give you space but even you knew you had lost pieces of yourself that never healed again and it wasn’t because of your father.

“Come on, kid,” you huffed, swatting at his arm enough to trip him a few steps and get him laughing again, “I’ll race you to the bank.”

It was only two blocks away and you were on back alleys with minimal traffic anyway. It was something you used to do when you were younger and you’d be the one watching him after school. It was all you could do to get the energy out of the little pest.

“What do I get if I beat you?”

“Pride, Peter.”

“How about donuts from McQueen’s?” he pressed, grabbing tight to your elbow and bringing you to an abrupt stop. Alright – so he was serious now.

You narrowed your eyes. “Fine. When I win, I want churros from the street vender across the block.”

“Done.”

***

An hour later you dropped Peter off back at Aunt May’s there was sweet sticky residue of cinnamon sugar on your fingers as you waved goodbye. You pulled the second churro from your bag, half eaten, and bit down on it with a triumphant smile.

Peter laughed, shaking his head as he brushed past Aunt May and slipped inside the house. She waved at you, leaning against the frame, reminding you to not be such a stranger, before you made your way home.

It had been a while since you’d spent time with Aunt May, especially after Uncle Ben passed. Hell, it had been a while since you’d spent time with anyone, really. You worked hard to keep Peter and Aunt May out of Brock’s world.

You never told him when you met up with Peter on the Sundays you were able to slip out of the house, giving excuses of your errands in Brooklyn and spending time reading in the park. He never questioned you, never thought that you would lie to him because he thought you to be feeble and submissive.

He confused you for the character in which you played for him. You weren’t the only one who could be fooled by someone who was supposed to love them.

You sighed as you pushed your way into the front door of the home, the chill of the inside no warmer than the flutter of snow falling outside. You reluctantly unwrapped your scarf, hung your coat, and eyed the emptiness of the living room. There was a loneliness in this home you were never quite able to shake, even in the moments Brock was around. It was never his company you craved.

A chill swept up your spine and you tugged your cardigan across your chest. Hoping there might be something in the kitchen you could throw together to make soup, you kicked off your shoes by the door and scurried your way across the living room. Hell, you’d even settle for a cup of tea and a PB&J if it was all you had.

Humming to yourself, you didn’t notice the murmured voices beyond the door as you pushed your way inside.

You froze in your tracks, nearly stumbling over your feet to find Brock and a few men in suits you didn’t recognize sitting around the table, eyes all trained on you.

James stood in the corner of the room, observing, and if you hadn’t already known what he did for your husband, you would have thought he was out of place.

Even the limited interactions you had with him had been decent, kind almost, and certainly nothing like the rest of the men your husband kept under his payroll. He nodded at you in acknowledgement, hands clasped behind his back. It was subtle, but it was there. It was more than any other Hydra members offered you.

Brock’s jaw was clenched when you finally dared to look in his direction, a silent warning for you to leave the room, but you huffed, letting the door close behind you as you made your way to the stove and turned on the top right burner. You usually had a bit more defiance in you after your time with Peter. He reminded you of who you used to be.

“Gentlemen, this is my wife,” Brock announced, forced smile and tight in his tone. He never offered your name, like withholding it was another lock he kept you under; dehumanized and alone.

You could hear the murmurs of approval from his business associates as you put a pot on the stove. Just as you were reaching for a can of broth from the pantry, Brock cleared his throat. You gritted your teeth and turned to face him.

“Why don’t you let Clara make something for you, baby?”

He wasn’t asking to be kind. He wanted you gone.

Clara quickly stepped in from the adjoining room, a sweet woman in her early seventies who had been working for the Rumlow family for decades and put up with far more than she should. You shook your head at her, offering a small smile as you held up your hand.

“I can manage just fine, thanks,” you replied.

“Baby,” Brock urged, the threatening nature of his voice masked under the pet name you despised, “we’re in the middle of a very important meeting.”

“You’re also in the middle of the kitchen and I’m hungry,” you snapped back, pleased by the flash of shock on his face. “You have a thousand other rooms in this house, you can’t go anywhere else?”

You’d come to regret that jab later, but the satisfaction of the way his forced smile faded down into an aggravated frown was too sweet to resist. As you turned back to the stove, you spotted James in the corner attempting to suppress a smile, though he quickly pushed it aside when Brock called his name.

“Karpov, please escort my wife somewhere she’ll be more comfortable. I’ll have Clara bring her dinner when it’s ready.”

James nodded, stern features replacing the softness of the smile and he stepped forward, gesturing for you to follow.

“You can’t be serious,” you gaped, glancing at James before you turned back to Brock.

You weren’t a child and you didn’t need to be treated as such, but with the look on Brock’s face, the redness burning in patches on his neck and the glare in his eyes as he stared you down, warning you to shut your damn mouth, and you silenced immediately.

You’d seen that look before. It wasn’t one you enjoyed being on the receiving end of.

“Ma’am, please come with me,” James requested, voice low, soft, and he placed a hand on your arm to lead you away but you yanked it from his grasp harsher than you intended.

It wasn’t him you were angry with but he was just as much a part of Hydra’s world as your husband was. He chose this life. You were forced into it. It didn’t matter how sweet and gentle he was, or the fact that he seemed to care about your books or your wellbeing. He was still a man following orders.

Frustration was etching in your skin, leaving you feeling antsy and shaken, but you stood your ground. You met Brock’s eye from across the room, a challenge of wills between you.

“Don’t make me ask again,” Brock growled, slowly standing from his position.

It was then you felt another soft touch on the mid of your shoulder blades. Gentle, guiding, and entirely unlike the hands of his men before who had yanked you from the room with a firm grasp around your wrist that left red marks and aching. You turned to find James watching you carefully, offering a nod in encouragement, and you shivered away from his fingertips.

His hand fell immediately and he made no efforts to touch you again.

You glanced back at your husband, and then to Clara who had already starting preparing the soup with the ingredients you had taken out of the pantry. With a roll of your eyes, you turned on your heels and stormed out of the kitchen, leaving Brock with a satisfied, prideful smirk you’d come to loath.

“Keep an eye on her, Karpov,” Brock called out to James and you turned your shoulder to find him following you into the living room.

There was an apologetic look about him, with his hands stuffed into his pockets and his hair falling down into his face. He offered you a tight-lipped smile despite the hardened frown on your face, and it only seemed to add to the confusion he elicited in you.

“I don’t need a babysitter, just so you know,” you said, arms folded over your chest as you leaned against the back of the couch.

“Oh, I am fully aware,” James nodded, a slight chuckle escaping him. “Think you can do me a favor and let me stick around for a bit though? Just so I don’t piss off the boss?”

You laughed despite yourself. The tension quickly fading from your shoulders and your arms unfolded from your chest. Hands gripping at the suede fabric of the couch, you turned to see James smiling at you. It was bright, leaving dimples on his cheeks and wrinkles by his eyes. He was really quite beautiful if you stopped and let yourself think so, which you did not.

“I suppose I can be fine with that.“

A silence took over for a moment and he shifted in his stance. He didn’t care for the quiet, you noticed, watching the way his eyes glanced down to his watch and he started to tap his toe against the hardwood floors. It took you a few years, but you’d come to savor the silent moment likes these. They meant you were alone, out of Brock and Hydra’s reach. They were a blanket of warmth and safety.

James seemed to find them unsettling.

“I actually have something for you,” he said suddenly, a slight jolt in his body as the realization came back to him and he quickly made his way to a black backpack sitting in the corner of the living room.

You narrowed your eyes on him, wondering what your husband’s enforcer could possibly have in that bag. You watched as he dug around the inside and tried to steal a glance over his shoulder when he stood up abruptly with a sudden nervous energy about him.

He didn’t say anything as he extended his hand to you; in his grasp was a copy of A Farewell to Arms.

You swallowed, stilling immediately, as you stared at it for a moment, giving yourself just a moment to process exactly what this was before your eyes trailed up to his.

He was swaying on his feet and it surprised you to watch a man who had been hired by your husband, to have dozens of pounds of muscle on his frame, and standing at six feet tall to be so nervous. You carefully took the book from his hands, running your fingers along the print of the title before you flipped through the pages.

It was faded on the cover and the binding was near in pieces from over stretching and cracking down the middle with use, but it was still readable, even with the ring of coffee stained on the first page of chapter one. The back cover had a high school library sticker adhered to the page that looked like it had been picked at relentlessly, though it won out in the end.

Worn over the years of being passed from student to student until ultimately James took it home and kept it more than a decade ago. It was a relic. A memory. It was perfect in every way and suddenly there was a lump in your throat you couldn’t quite explain. It had been years since you’d known kindness like this inside this home.

You had Peter and Aunt May, but they were like treasured secrets; ones you kept at the furthest distance from Brock as you could. This – this book in your hands – was something else entirely. You couldn’t remember the last time Brock brought you something simply because it reminded him of you.

James managed to make your heart ache and your stomach twist all at once, and you’d only known him a few weeks. You were at a complete loss.

“I know it’s not a first edition but,” he stumbled nervously, scratching at the back of his neck, “it was one of the few classics I liked back in high school. It’s, uh, seen some things… clearly.”

He chuckled anxiously, gesturing to the worn-down binding, and after a moment of what seemed to be pure shock, you tugged the book to your chest, hugging it close to your heart. A smile lit up your face, sparkling like gold and glitter and magic in your eyes. It was like a rush of heat in your veins and breath of fresh air.

“Do you want to see the library?” you asked suddenly and he seemed surprised by that as he raised an eyebrow, taking a step back. Now it was your turn to shift nervously on your feet as you stole a glance back over to the kitchen. “You know, if you’re stuck with me for a little while?”

James smiled, the corners of his lips curving slowly into his cheeks, and he nodded.

You grinned, turning on your heels and allowing him to follow you. You kept the Hemingway classic close to your chest the entire walk and tried not to think of the implications of it or the fact that Brock never once took any interest in your books or that you’d only known James a few weeks and he already seemed to be more interested in your love of fiction than your husband ever was.

You pushed all those thoughts aside. At least, you tried to. James wasn’t making it exceptionally easy with the way he was stunned into near silence as you pushed open the heavy oak doors and led him inside your sanctuary.

“I know you said you saw it before, but–”

“Not like this,” he said with a heavy sigh, shaking his head in disbelief as he stepped inside.

You knew a forced smile when you saw it and the way James walked around the room, his hand trailing along the shelf and closely examining the titles and the intricate detailing in the woodwork, every ounce of the bewilderment on his face seemed to be entirely genuine. He paused at the end of the first row, chuckling to himself as he pulled out a novel you quickly realized was among your Bradbury collection.

Fahrenheit 451. The book he asked you about the second time you ever spoke to him. There were smiles in between, careful glances and slight nods of acknowledgment in a way none of Brock’s men ever offered to you before, but the first time he talked to you, really talked to you, without the presence of your husband, was the first time you’d laughed in that home in a long time.

“You can borrow it, if you like,” you offered, leaning against the shelf as you watched him flip open the pages, studying the near translucency of the paper and the sculpted gold framing of the font on the cover.

“Think I might be a bit too rough around the edges for something as delicate as this,” he replied and it made your stomach twist in knots with the way he laughed to himself. The feeling was so foreign to you, you almost didn’t recognize it. It had been years since anyone brought those kinds of butteries around.

“I don’t believe that’s true,” you shrugged, stepping closer. “There’s no use in having a library full of books you can’t read. It’s what they’re here for.”

“Not sure that applies to ones worth thousands of dollars,” he mumbled awkwardly, though he couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away from the first page, like he had already started reading. His eyes were scanning the page, a slight curve of his lips as he read, and you swore your heart fluttered, but you shoved the feeling deep down because it wasn’t one you were allowed to have.

“It does, actually,” you countered and he looked up from the page to find you standing just a few feet away.

He sighed, clearly reluctant. His eyes trailed from the pages to your face, and back to the pages again. “Only if you’re sure.”

“I insist.”

You smiled at him and he closed the book, letting his hand fall to the side with the novel pressed to his hip. He nodded in appreciation.

“Guess it’s the least you could do now that I’ve gifted you such a relic,” he grinned, nodding to the novel in your hands nearly torn at the seams, with pages bending in the corners from unwanted moisture and cracks in the cover.

“Hey!” you laughed, swatting his arm playfully, “don’t knock my new favorite book.”

“Favorite, huh?”

Your cheeks hurt. Blushing and heart pounding. It was suddenly five years earlier and you weren’t tied down by rope and duty and bound to a home and husband you wanted nothing to do with. It felt like, for a short impossible moment, that maybe you could start again, maybe want something for yourself.

But James was just as much a part of Hydra as Brock was; maybe even more so because it was his hands carrying out orders. It didn’t matter that the soft hue of bright blue eyes and the sweetness in his smile seemed to contradict everything you knew about him. He was still Hydra.

Realizing you had been staring too long, standing too close, you quickly cleared your throat, stepping back and James let out a heavy sigh, looking just about everywhere around the room but at you.

A sudden knock at the door made you flinch, hand darting to your heart to hold you steady.

“Miss Y/n?” a voice called. Clara. You could smell the homemade soup from across the room.

“Just a moment,” you called back.

You were hidden behind an aisle of books, shielded by the abundance of thick covers and pages, hiding this stolen moment – or whatever it was. You glanced back at James nervously, a silent apology in your eyes and he seemed to understand immediately. It was time for him to leave.

He offered you a short smile, holding up the Bradbury novel in his hand with a slight nod of appreciation, before he quietly slipped from the library. Clara eyed him as he left, keeping a careful distance as she usually did when Brock’s employees were around. When you emerged from behind the row of shelves, she had already set up your tray on the coffee table, folding the napkin into a beautiful design.

“That one’s new around here, isn’t he?” she asked, referring to James, a slight tremor in her voice that came with age. She smiled at you, saying more between the lines, but you knew what she meant.

James didn’t seem to be anything like the other men Rumlow kept company with. He was kind, with bright eyes and a warm smile. He cared about your library and your novels without forcing his way through a conversation for the sake of politeness.

He brought you a book, one from his own home, one he kept since his school days and must have dug through old boxes for, simply because he thought it might make you smile.

He was genuine. It had been a long time since you’d known anything like that within the walls of this home.

And it terrified you.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you

[letsmidnightfights]

I CAN’T (i cannot) GET OVER THE FACT THAT

steve “even when i had nothing i had bucky” rogers mourned his literal EVERYTHING for YEARS only to discover he was ALIVE and had been tortured+brainwashed (for SEVENTY YEARS) into being a SENSELESS KILLER only to break through his programming with his LOVE, only for him to RUN AWAY in fear (because: you pulled from the river. why? i don’t know. yes, you do.)

only for said EVERYTHING to: be framed for crimes he didn’t commit, fought and mutilated by the person he called a friend, asked to be put to sleep for an indefinite amount of time (due to said BRAINWASHING). only for said everything to then awaken to a global threat and war, only for said man to fight in said war and disappear with a single snap, only for him to come back and do some more fighting

ONLY FOR STEVE “EVEN WHEN I HAD NOTHING I HAD BUCKY” ROGERS TO DECIDE TO FUCK OFF TO 1945 TO “BE” WITH A WOMAN WHO MEANT VIRTUALLY NOTHING TO HIM COMPARED TO HIS EVERYTHING

#look me in the eyes and tell me this makes sense #they didn’t get a single second to just #BE with each other #they way they did #when they were each other’s EVERYTHING #marvel #bucky barnes #chris evans #mcu #steve rogers #sebastian stan #stevebucky #avengers #captain america #stucky #the mcu should have done better #fuck endgame #fuck this shit #FUCK IT #sad gal hours

[speechlessxx]

Guilty as Charged (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

Summary: In which Bucky and the reader’s happy life is interrupted by a Civil War. 

Warnings: LONG (for no reason, this could’ve been a multi-part fic but I don’t have the commitment for that), this is really bad tbh..., language? 

Word Count: 2.4k+

Feedback is appreciated! I hope you enjoy!

When Bucky settled down with you in Bucharest, he hoped that he’d be able to provide you a happy life – the life you deserved. The both of you were two peas in a pod, both running from the ghosts of their pasts. He was running from HYDRA and the government while you were fleeing from your abusive ex-boyfriend. You first met when he managed to save you from being mugged. After that, he traveled with you. Soon, you both became close and confessed your pasts to one another.

“I understand if you don’t want to go with me anymore,” he told you on the rooftop of some building you two broke into for the night. He adverted his eyes from yours as shame quickly flooded through him. “I’m a killer.”

You shook your head with your brows furrowed as you pulled him into you. Your first kiss was under the stars. He pulled away from you, a bit surprised at your response. You wrapped your arms around his neck, interlocking your fingers together, while his hands found their way to your hips.

“That’s not who you are anymore, though,” you said. “And honestly, I’m falling in love with the person you are today. I don’t care about your past. I just want to be in your future, Bucky.”

Two peas, indeed.

But it all changed the day you both went to the market.

He offered to buy you some plums. (“Get six,” you told him. He responded with a yes ma’am and a mocking salute which earned him a small chuckle). After the man handed him the six fruits in a bag, Bucky felt tense. He felt like he was being watched. He looked over his shoulder and found a man in the newspaper stand staring at him. The man glanced down at the paper in his hand and looked back at Bucky, who started to walk towards him. But as soon as Bucky got close, the man fled. He snatched the paper from its perch as he read The Winter Soldier wanted for Vienna Bombing printed boldly in Romanian.

His breathing hitched as he frowned. He was nowhere near Vienna. The last time he was there was when you stepped on a broken bottle and he had to stitch your foot up. He remembered your yelps of pain as he tried to soothe you while he patched up your wound. It was over a year ago.

Bucky quickly found you and pulled you away from the woman you were trying to buy some meat from. “We need to leave,” he told you as he dragged you.

“What?” you asked. “Hey, hey, Buck, talk to me.” You pulled your arm from his grasp as you stared into his eyes.

He analyzed every detail of your face. From your eyes to your hair to the worried pout on your lips. He realized this might be the last time he’ll be able to see you. Bucky pulled you into him, crashing your lips against his. The last time he might be able to kiss you.

“You need to leave me,” he said breathlessly after he pulled away. You frowned. “Don’t argue, please… It’s not safe,” he eyed the woman who walked a little too close to you. “They found me. And you’re in danger by even being with me.”

You shook your head, tears threatened to fall. “Buck, no,”

“Please, my love,” Bucky pleaded and dug into his pockets. He shoved what cash he had into your hands. “Buy a ticket. Get far away from me.”

“I can’t leave you.” You shook your head. “I won’t.”

“If something happens to you, I won’t be able to forgive myself,” he said, tears in his eyes, too. “I’ll find you. I’ll find you eventually.” You shook your head, defiantly. “Stop it… Please…”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too… so, so much.” He muttered, pulling you back for one final kiss. “Go.”

-=+=-

You were so defiant. Bucky called you stubborn on so many occasions. “That stubbornness is gonna get you in so much trouble one day,” he warned after you refused to back down when you picked a fight with a man twice your size who was manhandling a woman on the train.

He warned you time after time. Stop being so stubborn. Do what I tell you to do so we don’t get killed. But every time, you refused to listen.

Much like now.

Instead of buying a train ticket and getting the hell out of Bucharest, you made it your mission to find out what had him on edge. You found the newspaper with the same headline about the bombing and frowned. Neither of you were in Vienna. You’d been staying in Romania for almost 3 months. So, you managed to find the tip hotline and got in touch with an agent. You claimed his innocence and when asked how you knew the truth, you simply responded, “I was with him.”

So, now you were staring at a man across the table who introduced himself as Everett Ross. You were flown out from Bucharest to Berlin in a matter of hours after your initial phone call.

“I don’t think I quite believe your story, Miss (Y/L),” he finally told you as he rubbed his chin. “It all just seems…”

“It’s contradicting to the narrative you’re so keen on believing,” you nodded. “But it’s the truth. I’ve been traveling with James Buchanan Barnes for the past 2 years after he saved me from being mugged in London.”

“You realize you’ve been traveling with a known criminal, right?” He asked.

You shook your head. “He’s not a criminal. He’s a victim. Don’t paint him into a villain if you don’t know or want to acknowledge his story.”

“You’ve got some bite on you,” he chuckled. “But if he’s such a victim, then why did he attack and escape?”

“What?”

“He’s injured many of our agents, killed dozens in the bombing.” Ross explained. “And yet, you come here, parading around the story that he’s a victim.” He shook his head. “Perhaps, the true victim is you Miss (Y/L)? Maybe the truth is, is that James Buchanan Barnes didn’t save you from being mugged. He kidnapped you and forced to live with him for 2 years, uprooting you from your life, making you depend on him.”

“Are you suggesting I have Stockholm syndrome?” You cocked an eyebrow up. “Because I am of sound mind and he is innocent.”

“I was giving you an out, kid,” he sighed and threw his hands into the air. “I was giving you an excuse, so we don’t tag you as an accessory to a crime. Aiding and abetting a criminal. Hate to see a nice girl like you locked up in prison.”

“I stand by my statement that I was with Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes in Bucharest, Romania at the time of the bombing in Vienna,” you stated and stared him down. Oh, how that stubbornness and undying loyalty shined through.

They didn’t formally arrest you. Instead, they kept you locked in the interview room for hours. You had even fallen asleep a few times. They checked into your story. At every city you and Bucky stayed at, they were able to find video evidence of you too. It was tricky at first. Bucky was skilled at hiding from CCTV, but he had his slip ups. And in some videos, if you were caught on tape, sure enough, Bucky was lingering somewhere near you.

But they didn’t tell you their plan for you, either. If they can’t arrest Barnes themselves, they’ll throw you in the Raft (despite you being a non-enhanced civilian). And if Tony Stark failed at apprehending Steve Rogers and the Winter Soldier, then they’ll use you to draw him out.

-=+=-

You hummed softly to yourself as you laid in the prison bed. You knew from your first conversation with Everett Ross this is where you would end up – a prison cell. However, you didn’t realize that the prison would be hidden in the ocean. The Raft, they called it. Supposedly, it was for the most dangerous criminals. And for some reason, you – a human girl whose only crimes were telling the truth and falling in love – made the cut. And if those were the crimes that Everett Ross claimed you committed, then fine. Guilty as charged.

Later, the cells around you became occupied. Three men and one woman.

“What got you locked up in here?” the African American man asked you.

“Tell the truth,” you answered. He frowned at your response. “I tried doing the right thing. Tell Everett Ross that James Buchanan Barnes is innocent!” You screamed, knowing that the conversation was being overseen by security.

“Wait, Bucky?” The man asked you. You nodded. “You’re the girl.”

“Am I supposed to say, you’re the man?” You scoffed. “Who the hell are you?”

“Sam Wilson,” he introduced. “I know your fella.”

Your features softened. “Is he… is he okay?”

“I sure hope so,” Sam sighed.

-=+=-

You didn’t know how long you were all locked up. You quickly got to know your cellmates – Sam, Clint, Scott, and Wanda. Sam had filled you in on what happened with Bucky, some details he glazed over, knowing the conversation was being monitored. His story lined up with yours. Bucky had been framed so that he would be flushed out of hiding. He was later arrested after trying to flee from a man wearing a cat suit – that part confused you – and the UN.

Bucky didn’t want you involved in the catastrophe that would’ve erupted. He knew he can’t protect the both of you, so he asked you to go as far as you can. You, of course, deterred from his plan and got yourself locked up in a high-security prison. At least you’re safe, you joked to yourself. You did that part right.

Then there was a thud that erupted through the prison as a guard’s body fell from the railing. You quickly got up from your seat against the wall and stared into the darkness. A man emerged and freed you all.

-=+=-

“You’re the girl Bucky’s been talking about?” The man, who introduced himself as Steve, asked as the two of wandered around a hidden Wakanda facility.

“Guilty, I guess,” you smiled. “You’re the best friend he told me about?”

“Guilty,” Steve chuckled. “Thank you… Thank you for being there for him…”

“Honestly, I think he saved me more times than I’ve ever saved him,” you laughed. Steve led you to a lab.

You stared at the technology in awe. It was so advanced compared to the rest of the world. You heard Steve ask someone, “are you sure about this?”

“I can’t trust my own mind,” you heard a familiar voice respond. It broke your heart how broken he sounded. “So, until they figure out how to get this stuff out of my head. I think going back under is the best thing… for everybody.”

“Nothing will make you change your mind?” Steve asked. You didn’t see, but Bucky gave him a sad smile and shook his head. “Not even…” Steve gestured for you to walk over. Bucky’s brows shot up in surprise as you made your presence known. You gave him a small smile as you wrapped your arms around him, careful not to hit the wrapped stub where his titanium arm used to be.

“How?” Bucky asked as you pulled away.

“Tried to clear your name, got arrested,” Bucky frowned at you, “got sent to the Raft, got broken out by Captain American, and… now I’m here.”

“You never got on that train, did ya?” You shook your head and gave him a guilty look. “Of course,” he chuckled as he used his good arm to pull you into a kiss.

“What are you doing?” you asked him.

“I gotta let them fix me,” Bucky explained. “Take the Winter Soldier out of my head.” You looked over to the cryo-freeze chamber and frowned. It looked terrifying – like the things you’d see in a sci-fi horror flick.

“I can’t convince you otherwise?” You asked.

“No, love,” Bucky shook his head, taking your hand into his. “I can’t give you a good life… not with all the bad stuff in my head.”

“Are you ready, Sergeant Barnes?” A teenage girl walked up to him.

Your hand gripped his as he got up from the table. “Stevie, watch over her?” Bucky asked, looking over at Steve.

“You got it pal,” Steve nodded.

Bucky looked down at you. “Don’t do anything stupid until I’m back.”

“How can I?” You muttered. “You’re taking it with you.” Steve smiled to himself, recognizing the phrase and remembering how he would’ve responded similarly.

“I love you, (Y/N).”

“I love you more, Bucky,” you teared up.

“Impossible.”

“Asshole.” He smirked at your response, but instead of providing a rebuttal, he let you have the last word. He gave you one last kiss before he let the girl escort him to the chamber. He closed his eyes as the glass frosted over.

-=+=-

He will be waking today, Shuri’s message read to you. You arrived at the rural villages of Wakanda. The natives all greeted you with smiles as if knowing today was the big day.

“How are you feeling?” Shuri asked the newly awakened Bucky. He stared off into the distance.

“Good. Thank you.” Bucky gave her a small smile and she returned it. He takes in the view of the lake. The sunlight reflected on the waters. It was a beautiful sight.

“Come. So much for you to learn,” Shuri beckoned as she walked off.

Bucky tore his eyes from the beautiful Wakandian scenery and followed Shuri’s voice and was met with another sight that was far more gorgeous.

You wore a white flowy dress (though the bottom of the skirt had been dirtied from the mud you ran across earlier that day). Your hair had been pulled back in a half up/half down hairdo, a small bun at the crown of your head. Your smile reached your teary eyes as your eyes met.

You raced over to him and held him tightly in your arms. You missed him so much. This reunion was months in the making.

“You stayed?” Bucky asked, breathless as you pulled away and wrapped your arms around his neck. You nodded.

“Why would I leave?” You asked. “I’ve waited a long time for this.” You said and pulled him down for a long-awaited kiss.

This was word vomit in fan fiction form. I’m so sorry.

Please tell me what y’all think <3 

#Bucky Barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #james buchanan barnes #the winter soldier imagine #the winter soldier x reader #white wolf x reader #white wolf imagine #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #im on a bucky kick #this was kinda bad

[lovelyirony]

11.) What happens when they make their own fireworks?

When Sharon yelled at Tony to “go make your chemistry degree useful and firework-it-up with Rhodey!” she thought that Tony wouldn’t take it literally.

He’s the stupidest damn genius she knows.

Because he decides that they can make actual fireworks. He has the lab access, the safety gear, and can apparently order each material that they need. Rhodey’s excited.

They work out the different shapes they’re going to do, what the differences have to be.

Sharon wants to believe that it’s a date. It has to be a date. Who else is going to invite their best friend to make fireworks and not have it be a weird euphemism?

Of course, Rhodey’s no better. No, he thinks it’s a great “hangout” for his “best friend.”

They’ve both been making heart eyes for years.

Both of them think the other couldn’t possibly like them back. No, not possibly. The only reason that Sharon hasn’t been able to do anything about it is that the time when she was finally an independent adult who was no longer relegated to the kids’ table, but by then they were already both living their lives and too busy to come to Christmas parties, or abroad.

Then Sharon joined SHIELD, and suddenly all of her free time was dedicated to making sure she actually did her laundry and didn’t leave anything perishable in the fridge on long missions. She thought that at some point, Pepper would help them get their shit together, maybe.

Pepper, as it turns out, is also a disaster. She’s been busy falling in love with any woman that even so much as looks her way and has been having a very difficult time getting over the woman who she gets coffee from who wears overalls about six out of the seven days.

“You think I have time for that?!” Pepper says. “I’ve been busy trying to make every woman within a three-mile radius fall in love with me!”

“You’re also running a business, are you saying you didn’t carve time out to meddle in other people’s lives like I have?” Sharon asks.

“Yes! Exactly what I’m saying!”

Sharon rolls her eyes.

“Everyone is useless and Tony and Rhodey are going to die alone because they’re both so stupid it hurts.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Pepper responds. “All we need to do is get them jealous.”

“Have you forgotten what Tony is like? He’s self-loathing. He can’t get jealous. And Rhodey just straight-up won’t notice it because he’s a gigantic idiot.”

“Not gigantic,” Pepper grumbles. “But close enough. Then who’s gonna help them get together? We’ve both failed, so—”

“Well you never tried.”

“I have a life, Sharon!”

“Why?”

Pepper just shakes her head.

“Look, I only have time to either sulk for myself over pretty women or get a new rule passed for the workplace environment that we’ve been trying to shoot for. Tell me, how do you feel about a cappuccino machine?”

“Pepper I thought you were good with not wasting money.”

“Shit.”

So, Sharon is back to square one.

The Fourth of July is tomorrow, and there’s only so much time she has to even try and get them together.

This is where Clint comes in.

Clint will do anything for a grilled cheese. Literally anything. He’d probably commit war crimes for a grilled cheese. That’s how seriously he takes them.

So Sharon contacts him.

“What do you need, Sharon? I can get you a good coffee mug next week, but not this week.”

“No coffee mug, I need to interfere in people’s personal lives. How many grilled cheeses is that?”

“Seven.”

“Seven? Seriously?”

“One of them has to have fancy cheese.”

“I’m not doing that.”

“Then eight.”

“Fine.”

Clint grins, leaning back in his chair.

“I didn’t actually need the fancy cheese. But who am I meddling with?”

“Rhodey and Tony, by the big party tomorrow. I need them to realize that they’d be good together.”

Clint frowns.

“Are you sure I’m capable of doing that in such a short time frame? Are you sure you don’t want this to be like a Halloween type thing?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Fine. I might request nine sandwiches by the time this is over.”

“You’re welcome to request nine, but I’m only giving you seven.”

“We agreed on eight.”

“We did no such thing,” Sharon scoffs. “I’ll give you seven and throw in a liter of soda.”

Clint shrugs.

“Suits me, I wasn’t doing anything anyways. Hey, can you cover for me tomorrow on paperwork? Maria likes you better than she likes me, and I accidentally did my paperwork in red glitter ink. Again.”

Sharon sighs.

“I don’t know how you’ve survived this long.”

Clint shrugs and makes a “what are you gonna do?” face and heads out.

-

He has a specific plan in mind.

His first order of business is interrupting lab time. This time is sacred to both Rhodey and Tony, and really the only person who repeatedly violates said lab time is Steve for stupid reasons like “worldwide, international problems” or “the fridge turned sentient and is trying to trap Bucky inside the freezer so that he feels ‘at home’.”

If Clint is bothering them, it’s not for a legitimate reason. He takes one of the seven grilled cheeses with him and sits down on a stool.

“Hi guys,” he says. “What are we doing?”

“We’re making fireworks, you’re eating a sandwich.”

“Why are you guys not getting dinner?” Clint asks. “Go on a little date or something?”

“Date?” Tony asks.

“Yeah, date,” Clint says. “Nat said you guys were dating, and she doesn’t lie to me.”

Rhodey blinks. Tony stares.

“Oh. We’re dating?” Tony asks. “I…I knew that.”

“Me too, obviously,” Rhodey says. “Tony you…asked me out like two months ago?”

“Yeah,” Tony says hurriedly. “Hey, can you pass me some more of the purple stuff? I’m trying to make a Hulk firework.”

“Sure thing, honey-bee, although you know that this is an actual name for the chemical? Did you forget?”

“…no, definitely not,” Tony says. “But you always know what I mean when I’m talking, so it doesn’t matter.”

Clint pulls out his second sandwich.

“Is this, like, your weird couple way of going on dates?”

Tony and Rhodey look at each other.

“I guess,” Rhodey says with a shrug. “Usually I make Tony come with me to dinner.”

“And I make Rhodey listen to me ramble about conspiracy theories,” Tony answers. “Is that all, Clint?”

“Yeah,” he says, spraying crumbs all over what looks to be very sensitive lab equipment. “I’ll see you at the party, right? Sharon said you two were coming and shit. Do you guys celebrate Christmas together?”

“Clint, get out,” Tony says tiredly, waving him off. Clint shrugs, gets off the table, and saunters out.

He sends a text to Sharon: I get eight sandwiches!!!

No you don’t lmao get off my ass

Eight sandwiches after u see negotiating skillz put 2 work!!

We’ll see.

Rhodey is currently staring at Tony.

“Why’d you go along with it?” Tony asks.

“Why did you?”

“I asked you first!”

Rhodey laughs nervously.

“Well, um…maybe I didn’t exactly mind that people think we’re a couple? I’d like them to, uh, know?”

Tony breathes a sigh of relief.

“Oh my god, you have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to hear that.”

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” Rhodey asks as he walks to Tony, engulfing him into a hug.

“Because I’m an idiot,” Tony answers. “But now I’m not one, and we’re about to have a blast at this party.”

“I already hate your stupid jokes,” Rhodey mumbles.

“You’ve hated them for years,” Tony grins. “But I’ve loved you for that many years, so I think it balances out.”

Rhodey presses a kiss to Tony’s forehead. He smiles.

“Let’s just get these finished up, okay? I want to make sure that I get photographic evidence of Sam losing his mind when he sees the Falcon-themed one.”

Tony nods, gathering more of the supplies.

“Roger that, honey.”

#pepper is a GIGANTOR LESBIAN #she loves women :) #pepper potts #tony stark #rhodey #sharon carter #clint barton #rhodeytony #ironhusbands #rhodeytony seasons of love challenge

[laurenkmyers]

Hi Lauren! Since you're the only person who i kinda know that watched TFATWS... do you know why Zemo said he crossed his own name off of Bucky's list? Like... Why did Bucky had to "make amends" to Zemo? I don't think i really understood that part...

Hey angel! (Sorry it took so long to answer this.) 

The way I see it is that Bucky’s list is there for him to ‘make amends’ right? Well, he and Zemo have a complicated past- as we know in Civil War Zemo framed Bucky for the crime of killing King T’Chaka and then used him by triggering him back in to the Winter Soldier.

I think Zemo crossing his own name of the list was basically him pre-emptively knowing that Bucky would bring him to justice, and thus, amending for his past mistakes and avenging the hurt he caused under Zemo’s control. Zemo believed Bucky would kill him and that would be his justice, but little did he know that Bucky has fully committed to his new life outside of his Winter Soldier persona. 

I think what’s important to note here is that not every name on Bucky’s list is someone he wants or needs forgiveness from, but also people who he feels he needs to bring to justice. 

#tfatws spoilers #tfatws #bucky barnes #helmut zemo #the winter soldier #i hope this makes sense? #saspencereid

[angstsfordays]

I Miss You, I Love You

Summary: Ever since Bucky woke up from his cryogenic sleep in Wakanda, you decided to let him have space to recover despite your eagerness to see him. While your relationship is undefined thus far, you tried to find ways to let him know he is being loved.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Fluff all around. A hangry and aggressive goat.

Word count: 5k-ish

Notes: Hi, I’m back with a Bucky story! This one has nothing to do with the universe I created for my other Bucky/ Steve AU stories. If you haven’t checked it out, I written A Lot Like Love not long ago. Check out my masterlist too! 😘

Leave a like, reblog or comment to let me know what you think! 💖

———————————————————————

It had been almost five months after the civil war between Steve Rogers and Tony Stark. You were one of the enhanced individuals that came out to help Steve but mainly, Bucky to clear his name.

Before the fight, you had kept your powers on the down low even while you were an agent with SHIELD. You still remember when you were kidnapped by HYDRA, specifically Brock Rumlow, a fellow agent that you thought was your ally and friend.

Brock and you had trained in the academy together and were even partners for awhile before Fury pulled you out to support Phil Coulson. Brock always had his suspicions about you when you had to managed to survive life-threatening situations.

Once, you managed to save him from the impact of an explosion only a few feet away. Both of you would not have survived it but the two of you survived unscathed. When Brock tried to search for your information on SHIELD database, it was mysteriously kept confidential and only accessible by Director Fury. 

Brock relayed this to HYDRA who seemed to keep an eye on you. During the fall of SHIELD, you had been brought to their base forcefully and that’s when you met Bucky for the first time.

You recognised him immediately but you were forced to kept silence by Alexander Pierce who was hell bent on making sure Bucky had no recollection of who he was. You would have been silenced on the spot when you called out his name but Pierce kept you alive for your value as an enhanced.

Long story short, Bucky came back for you when HYDRA was momentarily defeated by Steve Rogers and his group. After pulling Steve out of the water, Bucky killed everyone remaining in the base and freed you. The both of you made plans to escape the country together.

In the two years he tried to hide from the world and regain understanding of himself, you were there by his side. The two of you developed a close bond that was hard to be placed into a specific category.

You were the only one he trusted and he was the one you wanted to protect. For those two years, the two of you enjoyed each other’s company and fell into domestic bliss. At first, you two lived off the savings that you had while living a simple life in Romania 

Soon, he tried to earn a living by doing laborious work while you worked at a local café. The two of you were happy and even though nothing special had happened between the two of you, you were still content.

It’s hard to say if you two were even toeing the lines of relationship but you knew you were at least friends.

Then one day, news of the UN bombing happened. Bucky was on his day off and went to the market to buy groceries for the two of you. He then discovered himself in deep waters when he was framed for a crime he did not commit.

You were still working at the café at the moment it happened. You took your apron off and dashed out of the café when you saw the news on TV. However, by the time you reached, you had arrived at a bust-up home.

Grabbing your passport, you hopped on the next available flight to Germany. Your heart was racing wildly when you saw that Bucky escaped from CIA custody and you wondered where he could have gone.

Once you landed, you received a call on your burner phone and heaved a sigh of relief when you realised Bucky was on the other line. He told you of his plans and asked you to stay low.

“I can’t drag you into this, Y/N. Not after all you have done for me.” He reasoned, almost pleading as he really didn’t want to involve you into his mess. You uprooted your whole life back home and abandoned it so that you could help him.

Bucky didn’t want to take anything more from you. You deserved to live a carefree life without constantly worrying about watching your back all the time.

“I don’t want to leave you, Bucky.” Your voice came out shaking at his request. Several times had he brought up the idea of leaving so that you can return to your previous life, but you pleaded for him to stay.

The two of you had gone through so much together, how could he easily thought of leaving you?

Your ears perked up when you heard the faint sound of an announcement that sounded similar to where you were at. You then realised he was here at the airport.

The airport staff asked for mass evacuation and you made to escape from the crowd. As you hid in a spot trying to figure your next move, you then heard the sound of crashing and explosion. You let your feet bring you to the runway where the fight happened.

Your appearance was one of the many surprises when you came between Bucky and someone who you came to know as the Black Panther. Bucky was shocked to see you while you chided him if he really thought you would abandon him.

Bucky allowed himself to have a feel-good moment amidst the chaos as he thought of how lucky he was to have you by his side. You persuaded Bucky to leave you and continue his plans of going after Zemo. He begrudgingly obliged when he saw how you had fiercely fought to protect him.

Along with the rest, you were brought into a maximum centre in the middle of the ocean for your war crimes. Added that you are an unregistered enhanced individual that popped up from nowhere and aided in the fugitive escape of Steve and Bucky, you were considered a criminal too.

Everything seemed like it was going downhill until Steve Rogers broke you out and had everyone brought to Wakanda to seek refuge. You barely reunited with Bucky when he told you that he wants to go into cryogenic sleep.

He didn’t believe he was safe until that was a solution to the brainwashing that HYDRA had subjected him to. Bucky regretted the decision the moment he saw the tears welling up in your eyes.

Even with only one arm left, he made sure to hold you tight in his arms to comfort you.

“Wait for me, Y/N. I want to come back as better man.” He spoke while he rested his chin on the crook of your neck.

“You’re already the best man to me, Bucky.”

Your words made Bucky’s heart soar and swore you were the best thing that could have happened to him after 70 years of pain and suffering. As he pulled away to take in your face for one last look, he then leaned in to place a gentle kiss on your forehead.

After you got over your emotions, you reassured him that you will be fine. You wanted the best for him even if it means he could not be with you for awhile. In the two years you spent together, Bucky had confided in you that he was most afraid of not being in control of himself ever again. HYDRA robbed him of his own person and Zemo took advantage of that too.

You wanted Bucky to have the chance to be free again so you let him go. As he walked over to the machine, he threw you one last longing look and a nod to Steve before he stepped in.

Once the machine closed around him and reality sunk in, you let yourself fall to the ground and let out a deep exhale. Steve Rogers had learnt about you as Bucky talked about you while they were on the jet to Siberia.

Steve was grateful that his pal had found someone like you. Steve bent down to your level and patted your back to soothe your pain. You returned a smile to Steve in kindred spirit, knowing that you weren’t the only one who was affected.

Before he decided to leave, Steve had asked you to stay in Wakanda as he wished that you do not join his group on the run as fugitives. He did not say this to you but he also hoped that you will be here once Bucky wakes up too.

You gladly accepted his request and soon found yourself enjoying Wakandan hospitality.

———————————————————————

As a guest, King T’Challa welcomed you like a friend and you had grown to learn more about the beautiful country and its culture.

You had alternated your time in between hanging out with Shuri in the labs and teaching in the villages. You had the honour to become an assistant teacher and grown to love your newfound life.

Shuri had been giving you updates on her progress with Bucky and you had made several trips to see him while he was in a state of sleep. However, it only served to pain you and those trips had lessened once you found yourself busy with your students.

When Shuri finally informed you she had managed to fix Bucky, you were thrilled. She told you of her plans to move him out of the lab and into one of the villages to recuperate for his own mental well-being.

She asked if you wanted to visit him but you suddenly found yourself hesitant to do so. You thought that perhaps, it is best for Bucky to have time to himself. After all, he deserved it after all he has been through.

Maybe, you should keep out of his way for now.

“I seriously don’t understand, why would you avoid him if you like him?” Shuri shook her head when she heard your explanation.

“Boyfriends are so complicated, I am never getting one.” She added on while fiddling with her tech.

“He’s not my boyfriend! He’s just a friend.” The pitch in your voice increased in response to her statement. Bucky was not your boyfriend at all, although you wished-

Shuri stopped what she was doing and looked at you like she did not believe a word you had said. “Sure and I am not a genius then.” Rolling her eyes, Shuri shook her head in disbelief before going back to her screen.

As you made to leave, Shuri stopped you to tell you that Bucky was currently residing in a village twenty minutes from you. He was given his own hut and asked to live a simple life of farming.

You couldn’t have imagine Bucky and farming together. Gathering your courage, you made your way to the village.

You were surprised to see two of your students, learning that this was where they lived. Trying to be discreet, you thought of a way to ask for directions to Bucky’s hut without making it obvious.

As one of your students stared at you fumbling to come up with right words, one of them took you by the hand and dragged you to follow him. The other one fell in steps behind you and soon, a single hut located on a low-lying field came into view.

There was a large space next to the hut dedicated for a fencing space for what seemed like farm animals. You spotted a few chickens, several goats and recognised another one of students from your class sitting casually on a branch of a big tree.

Your brows when you realised there was no one else until you felt your student patting your arm for your attention. You could feel your breath hitched when someone came into your line of sight from the corner of the hut.

Eyes blinking fast and heart racing wildly, you realised who it was. Taking long heavy strides, you could him leaning his weight on his right side as carried a heavy sack.

At a moment’s glance, you could see that his hair had grown longer and his beard had grown thicker. He had a brown scarf tied around his shoulder to his neck to cover where his metal arm once was.

He looks slightly tired but he no longer bore a shadow over his face. Even while standing far away, you could tell he looked happy and your heart warmed at the sight of a smile forming on his face when a small goat came over to him.

The goat was prodding at the sack that Bucky was carrying as if to tell him he was hungry and Bucky chuckled at how impatient the goat was acting like a small child.

How could he even have looked more beautiful than he already was?

“White Wolf! White Wolf!” Your two students started exclaiming as they ran down to where he was. During your time in Wakanda, you managed to pick up a bit of their language. You wondered why were they calling him that?

Your students gathered in front of him excitedly and Bucky’s face formed a confused look at their sudden enthusiasm. When you saw one of your students pointed in your direction, you panicked and started backing up.

You quickly turned your back and made a run for it, hoping Bucky have not spotted you. You were not ready to see him yet. What would you even say? How would you even react?

Quickly making you way back to your own hut, you threw yourself on your bed and groaned with frustration. You felt like an absolute idiot.

The next school day when you entered class, your students asked why you left early and you came up with an excuse that something came up at home.

Kids being kids, they didn’t think much of it and continued talking to you. As you listened, you learnt that Bucky had moved to their village for nearly two months and described him as a quiet but kind man who lets them hang out at his place whenever they want. 

Given the two of you are the only ‘foreigners’ that they knew, they had hoped to introduce you two. You chuckled at their sweet intentions, not knowing the two of you already knew each other.

After school session was over, you had made your way to the nearby marketplace and spotted something that caught your eyes.

As a guest, you were not required to pay but you insisted on paying the merchant with the allowance you were provided by the royal family. Grabbing the paper bag, you made your way back to the village where Bucky lived.

Your students hopped in joy when they saw you coming and ran up to you. Giving them hugs, you said your hellos. You then asked them if they could do something for you.

The eight-year olds nodded enthusiastically and you took out some plums you had gotten. You gave them one each and then shook the bag with the remaining ones before speaking.

“White Wolf.” You recalled their nickname for Bucky and tried to enunciate their native language to the best of your abilities. Before they sprinted off, you held their shoulders and brought a finger to your lips, making a shush sound.

You tried to explain to them that you did not want Bucky to know the plums came from you. Nodding their heads, you took it as sign as they understood before letting them go.

You hoped that it would have made him happy. When you meet your students again, they told you of how Bucky was happy with the plums. They claimed he finished one in two bites and mimicked how large he opened his mouth like a wolf.

You laughed at their dramatics and felt pleased with yourself. You then asked them if they knew Bucky goes to the market and they shook their heads. They then explain he does farm work most of the time and he cooks food that their mums or neighbours send him.

You processed the information and you came up with a plan. Requesting for an oven from Shuri (to which she threw a strange look your way upon the request), you decided to make and send Bucky some baked goods with the aid of your trusted little helpers.

It was your way of showing your care for him and you hoped he finds comfort in them. You always made sure to have your students come up with excuses to pass them to him, explaining that they learnt this during school and wanted to share with him some.

Yes, that should sound believable enough to not rouse suspicions.

You had your students sending food over twice a week for three weeks now. They helped you on the account that they adored you as their teacher and that they could help themselves to your treats.

You always looked forward to the next day when they would tell you how Bucky reacted and grinned foolishly when they told you Bucky always received your gifts with a smile.

You were simply content with this fact.

———————————————————————

Bucky Barnes had ever felt more at peace in a long time. He was eternally grateful to Princess Shuri who had ingeniously came up with a way to deprogram the brainwashing that HYDRA had ingrained in him.

When he first woke up, he was met with the wide smiles of Shuri and T’Challa who eagerly awaited his recovery. Following a few more tests, he was then cleared medically and T’Challa discussed with him on his next plans.

With Shuri and several Wakandan medical professionals’ input, they decided Bucky should have some time to unwind in a quieter village. He was accepting of the idea. When Shuri caught Bucky often looking around for something, she asked what’s wrong.

He asked for you. Shuri told him that what you were doing and he felt pleased at what you had been doing. He was glad you were safe and happy. When Bucky asked if you were coming to visit, Shuri had said that you wished Bucky would have some time to himself first.

Hearing Shuri said that, Bucky’s disappointed face mirror that of a wounded puppy. Bucky didn’t press on further. He knew you wanted the best for him and took it with an open-mind.

Shuri was bewildered at the entire situation. Aren’t the two of you suppose to run back into each other’s arms in some grand romantic gesture? Why were the two for you even acting this way?

Love was confusing and she was glad her love was only for science as it would not make her act all weird like the two of you.

When Bucky slowly settled into his new life, he asked for some farming supplies so that he focus his energy and attention into something productive. 

His day revolved around the mundane tasks of tending of his animals, chopping wood for the local villagers and growing his own food produce. However, Bucky could say that he was finally happy. 

Although there was something that would make him happier…. Bucky sometimes wondered what you were doing from time to time.

He could imagine you with your infectious smiles and energy, you were doing good with children. You deserved to be happy while he believed he shouldn’t. Although gradually lesser, Bucky sometimes still woke up to the horrors of his past actions. Bucky felt that he was not deserving of you.

As Bucky tried to distract himself of such thoughts, the sounds of children’s laughter and feet running made him looked up. In their excitement, the village children’s words came out as gibberish and he was having a hard time to understand what they were saying.

When one of them stretched their hand to point towards the slope, he saw a wave of dress fabric whisk by. Bucky was still trying to pick up the language and learn what the children were trying to say.

All he heard was a single word that he had yet to learnt.

“Teacher! Teacher!” The children kept on repeating while jumping up and down.

The next following day, Bucky was trying to brush off a nosy goat (who was the brunt of its litter) that kept on bothering as he went on to do his chores. He had named the goat Steve after it reminded him of his long-time pal.

His ears perked up when he heard the nickname that the village children had gave him. White Wolf, he learned from Shuri.

All of them had a fruit in one of their hands while one had carried an extra paper bag. The child pushed it towards his hands and he opened it up to see- plums.

The fruits brought him back to his memory of that very day. While it was a sad memory, he got over it and thanked the children. Bucky went on to ask where they got it from.

The children looked at him for a moment before shrugging their shoulders and running off to play. He brushed it off as a small kind gesture and took a big bite into the fruit. He didn’t know how a simple plum could have made his day.

The following days and weeks, the children returned back to his home bearing gifts. He was surprised to see familiar food from home such as bread, brownie and cookies.

His curiosity was peaked as these foods were not normally part of Wakanda’s culture and he wondered where the children had gotten it from. He tried to question the children the first few times and they had only returned sheepish grins before going off to play.

After the third time, one of the children said school and Bucky grew an even more confused. They got this from school? Or did they learn how to make this from school? There was something familiar about the baked goods that he received and he wondered when he had seen them.

———————————————————————

You woke up this morning with another plan. You had decided to bake bread loaves and have them delivered to Bucky. You were in your kitchens since this morning and the bread had been ready well after lunch time.

Wrapping them up, you made your way to the village and greeted several people you knew. One of your students immediately ran towards you when he saw what you carried in your hand.

You passed him the bread you made which he delightfully passed onto his mother who gave you a grateful smile. When you passed him a second bag, he immediately knew what you wanted him to do and headed off.

Normally, you would have turned and walked back home. However, curiosity had gotten the better of you. After hearing from your students how Bucky was delighted with your gifts, you were eager to see him in person.

Your eyes caught your student walking not far from you and you decided to follow behind. Soon, you saw him making his way down the gentle slope leading towards Bucky’s hut.

Bucky’s head tilted when he heard your student calling for him. You made sure to hide behind a nearby tree and peeked cautiously to take a look at Bucky.

Bucky can be seen with a toothy grin as he accepted the bag and patted their student’s head affectionately in thanks. Your heart leaped at the sight and a sense of satisfaction overcame you, leaving you in absolute glee.

What you did not expect while you were in self-bliss was a certain animal creeping up on you from behind. You jerked when a tug was felt from your side and you turned to see a small white goat nibbling at your bag. It must want the bread that you made but you could not it have it. Were goats even allowed to eat bread?

You tried to tug it from his bite but you realised he was very persistent and that you were having a hard time. It’s like it could do this all day as it became an apparent tug of war.

“Hey!” You involuntarily let out a scream as the animal start bleating aggressively. Weren’t goats supposed to be cute and friendly?

When you managed to have the final tug out of the goat’s mouth, you could not even rest for a moment as you saw the goat heading towards for you.

You instinctively ran in circles to throw the goat off your trail but it was pretty persistent. Boy, did it ran really fast too?

You wished you had super speed instead and start flailing as the goat bleated angrily while chasing you.

Your screams attracted the attention of Bucky who wondered what had happened. A woman’s scream was rarely heard in his part of the area and Bucky went to find the source of the sound.

Of all the scenarios that he could have imagined, Bucky had least expected you to see you running and screaming for what it seemed like your dear life. His eyes moved to see that Steve, his annoying runt of a goat was chasing you vehemently with a passion.

Bucky wanted to stop and laugh out loud at how terrified you look of Steve who barely stood at your waist level. When your eyes finally meet, you sped up and jumped onto Bucky who luckily was able to hold you steady even with one arm.

Circling your legs around his waist so that the goat would not be able to reach you, you made sure you wouldn’t fall by securing your arms around Bucky’s neck.

“Save me from this demon, Bucky!” You pouted and pleaded. Hearing the goat’s bleating coming nearer, you tightened your grip onto Bucky and looked over Bucky’s shoulder to see its beady eyes staring intently at the bag in your hands.

Bucky did not want to make of the situation as his senses first alerted him of how close you were to him. The two of you were chest to chest and he could your heart beating fast. Bucky breathed in your familiar scent that he didn’t knew he missed until now.

When he heard your whine once more, he was brought back to reality and started to catch up with how funny the scene was.

“You mean Steve?” Bucky chuckled in response to your previous statement.

“You name him, Steve?! Why would you do that? Steve is so sweet-” Pulling your face away from the crook of his neck, you came face to face with Bucky. You were nearly shocked by the little distance that lied between your faces and you recalled how much you missed his beautiful cerulean eyes.

Taking a nervous gulp, you also started blinking fast when you realise you were so close to Bucky that you could feel each other’s breath. Bucky locked you in hard stare as he didn’t speak, only using his eyes to communicate.

Your eyes broke contact with his and fleet to his pink lips for a moment. What were you doing? Bucky caught what you were doing and gulped nervously on his own. The tension between the two of you could be cut with a knife.

Your staring match was then cut off once again by Steve’s excessive bleating.

“Can he eat bread?” You asked him but Bucky was not out of his reverie of you and you had to ask once more to get his attention.

“Does Goat Steve eat bread?!”

“He eats anything-” Before Bucky could finish, you removed the hand that held the bag and threw it far from where you were. Goat Steve’s gaze followed to where the bag landed and he ran for it. With ease, he managed to prod his head into the bag and dragged the loaf of bread out. To start digging in

Seeing that your near-death crisis was over, you hesitantly push away from Bucky and he reluctantly let you down onto the ground. There was a moment of silence between the two of you as neither one of you knew what to say.

Standing awkwardly and looking anyway at each other, the both of you were frantically trying to come up with something to say.

“How are you?” The both of you spoke up at the same time. Your impeccable timing caused the both of you to laugh awkwardly before looking back at each other.

“I’m good.” The two of you answered at the same time once more and you two laughed at the sheer ridiculousness of the situation. Bucky nodded towards you to signal you to speak first.

“I see you are a farmer now.” Mentally slapping yourself, you couldn’t believe that was the first thing you had said to Bucky after he woke up from his cryogenic sleep.  

“And I heard you are a teacher now.” Bucky followed in response before widening his eyes in a sudden realization.

“The bread, the other baked stuff, it’s you. The children say they brought it from school. You’re a teacher so-” Putting the pieces together, Bucky realised you were the one who has been sending food to him. 

“Were the plums from you too?“

You looked down sheepishly in embarrassment, hand reaching to rub the back of your neck as you tried to come up with an explanation.

“Well, I just want to give you something and they say giving food is an act of love- I mean well not love but you know I want to make you happy so-”

“Why didn’t you give it to me yourself?” Bucky cut into your nervous rambling. You raised your head up to look at him and you swore you caught both hints of anticipation and disappointment lingering on his face.

“I didn’t want to disturb you. You should have some space to recuperate and I didn’t want to intrude-”

“Y/N, I don’t need space! I need you! You have no idea how much I wanted to see you after I woke up.” Bucky laughed at your explanation and stalked closer to you till you were chest to chest again.

You couldn’t believe what Bucky had said. You fidgeted nervously as you asked for confirmation once more. “You do?”

“Of course, doll. You are my everything.” Bucky raised his hand to caress the side of your face tenderly as he spoke.

A mix of emotions started to overwhelm you. You were moved by Bucky’s words but you suddenly felt immense guilt for making him think you abandoned him. A single tear cascaded down your cheeks as you willed yourself to look at him.

“I’m sorry, I never wanted you to feel that way. I missed you so much, I’m glad you’re back.” A smile formed on Bucky’s face when he heard your words. There had been so much longing between the two of you, so much unspoken feelings.

Now or never, you were ready to cross the line of this. Bringing both your hands up to cradle Bucky’s face gently, you smiled lovingly before you pushed your feet up to meet his lips.

Bucky suddenly wished he had his other arm back so that he can engulf you entirely; holding you so close that you would never leave. You took the kiss slow and gently, you wanted to savour this moment to the fullest after holding back for so long.

You pulled back from Bucky reluctantly and you steadied your heart before letting the words out.

“I love you, Bucky.”

The corner of his lips curved up at your confession. You loved him, you really did.

“I love you too, doll.” He spoke with such gentleness and sincerity that it had you smiling in equal enthusiasm. Bucky leaned in to kiss you once more, this time with longing and insatiable hunger.

You returned his fervour as your hands found their way from his chest to his neck and then to the sides of his face. The two of you pulled away to catch your breath and leaned your foreheads against each other’s.

Both of you mirrored each other with beaming wide smiles.

“Blehhhhhhh.” The two of you turned to see Goat Steve looking at the both of you with what it seems like a happy expression.

“Is he actually smiling?” You laughed as Goat Steve let out a happy sounding bleat.

“He’s a punk.” Bucky remarked with a laugh before turning back to looking at your laughing face fondly.

He was happy to have found you, his love.

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#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes #white wolf #marvel fanfiction #angstsfordays

[amythedvdhoarder]

Planning for the Worst

Pairing: Bucky x reader

Word count: 8K

Summary: Bucky is currently hiding with you in Romania. When the bombing happens in Vienna your whole world threatens to crumble around you.

Warnings: Swearing, angst, fluff and smut. 18+ only

Authors notes: Written for the wonderful @sweater-daddiesdumbdork​ Birthday Celebration. I hope you have a had a lovely birthday week (because one day is never enough!). 

I was sent the lovely gif above (not mine) and this “I’m thinking maybe a bit of angst and affection. However short or long you want it ” I opted for long, my longest fic yet!

This kind of follows the plot of civil war but is obviously adapted to include the reader. I love feedback so please let me know what you think!

Here is my masterlist if you want to read any of my other Bucky one-shots!

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You looked at the newspaper in your hand. This had to be a terrible mistake. They were going to come for him, you just knew it. Throwing the newspaper down you turned on your heel and set off at a fast pace. It took a lot of effort for you to remain calm but you had to. Drawing any sort of attention now could be absolutely catastrophic. You pulled your phone and called the first of the two contacts you had on there. No answer. Then you called the second contact, the coffee shop, to let your boss you quit. As you approached the busy market you could hear the wail of multiple sirens in the distance. You tried to ignore the panic bubbling through your chest as you weaved through the people milling around, oblivious to the events going on around them. A tirade of curses was aimed in your direction after you accidently barged into someone. You didn’t even pause to apologise. All you could think about was getting to him. If you got back soon, then maybe you would have enough time to warn him. Enough time for both of you to run.

Bucky had told you the fragments of what he could remember from the last 70 years. You knew that he would never be safe, that you could never have a normal life together. You were a nobody, a nurse from New York with no family and no close friends. But Bucky was a different entity entirely. People would hunt him down for who he used to be, for what he used to be when HYDRA had controlled him. Although HYDRA had supposedly been destroyed, any sympathiser could be out to get him. Then there was Steve. The person who had finally snapped him out of the HYDRA brainwashing. His best friend. Steve would be searching for him for sure. For that reason, you never stayed in one place for too long, a couple of months tops. Finding temporary jobs in whatever city you lived in whilst Bucky kept a low profile. You had been in Romania for a month and a half now. Every day you checked the newspaper for anything that hinted at your discovery. For nearly two years on the run with Bucky, you had followed the same routine. Both of you always so careful and so vigilant, always one step ahead. Invisible. But all of that was about to change.

Bile rose in your throat as you turned the corner and approached your building. Ambulances were scattered all around the entrances and numerous bodies were being carried out on stretchers. You went up to the police officer by the door. “Hi, um I live here. What happened?” The officer gave a judgemental scan up and down your body. “Gas leak” You bit back the laugh at such a blatant lie. “Thanks, do you know when I will be able to get back into my flat?” The officer just shrugged and turned their back on you. As you walked away all you could do was hope that Bucky got out in time, that he was unharmed. Safe. You would swear on your own life that he hadn’t carried out the bombings he was accused of.  It was an impossibility. He had been with you on that day, here in Romania. But the frontpage of the newspapers this morning told a different story.

All you could do was wait, kill time until you could get back into the flat. Everything you needed was in there. Passports, money but more importantly you hoped some indication of what had happened to Bucky. A TV in the bar you were walking past flashed up an image of a familiar face. You stopped, turning to look at the screen fully, stomach falling at the sight in front of you. The broadcast flickered to a live feed. A man with a backpack on being forced to the ground, a troupe of armed police pointing their guns directly at him. You bit your hand to prevent you from crying out. Terror filled you as you watched the man you loved, hauled to his feet and all but dragged towards a waiting armoured vehicle. The only small consolation was there in the form of a man dressed in red, white and blue; Steve. The man known to the world as Captain America. Surely, he would know that his friend was innocent and protect him. But any glimmer of hope faded as you watched America’s most famous hero, being pushed into another armoured vehicle.

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The next hour felt like 10. You paced back and forth outside your building waiting for the police to leave. All the while trying to decide exactly what you should do. You didn’t know where Bucky had been taken, or by what agency. You just knew was that you were the only one who could help prove his innocence. Which was exactly what you were going to try and do. Your thoughts were running wild with the ideas of what they could be doing to Bucky and the fear and anger he must be feeling. Those two emotions were a bad combination for anyone but with Bucky it was 100 times worse. When he didn’t feel like he was fully in control the darkness did take over he would shut down. You had witnessed this countless times when he would just sit in the corner of the room for hours, stoic and trancelike.

Over time you had learnt how best to handle moments like these. Learning never to approach him or touch him. Not because you were scared of him but because he was scared that he could snap and hurt you. Instead you would talk, not necessarily to him, but the sound of your voice would help him escape the horrors cycling around in his head. Eventually when he was feeling more like himself, he would come and wrap his arms around you and just hold onto you. These episodes would usually end with you sat with his head in your lap just running your hand through his hair. It was times like these which Bucky appreciated how much you understood him. You never pressuring to explain what he was going through, gave him the space he needed.

Bucky began to open up to you and let him in. His memories were coming back slowly and as they did he tried to push you away. He was fully aware that he capable of killing you in a second. A trained assassin who wasn’t fully in command of their mind. The mere thought of that potential lapse of control had had led to many heated discussions. Bucky couldn’t understand why you were with him. He was a monster. A killer. Someone who many feared and those that didn’t, should.  He tried to get you to leave him so many times but you had refused. He loved you more than he could express but knew you deserved more. More than what he could offer which was at best a shell of the man he once was before HYDRA. But for some reason he couldn’t understand, you loved him.

His past, however, did hold some advantages. The assassin within him made him hyper-vigilant and his instincts had kept you both safe and undetected for so long. In preparation for being discovered Bucky had ensured you both had go bags stashed away and also briefed you on what to do if something happened to him. In this moment you were trying to draw on everything that Bucky had taught you. You watched as the policeman left before approaching your building again. As you walked up to your flat it was evident that there had been a massive fight. Railings were hanging off on some parts of the stairs, chunks missing from the wall and there were plenty of broken doors. One of which was your own.

Stepping through the doorway you gasped as you took in the extent of the damage. It was much worse than the rest of the building, your brain telling you instinctively that this was where the fight had broken out. The place was destroyed; the windows shattered, bullet holes littered over the ceilings and walls, furniture destroyed. One bit of the damage that didn’t surprise you was hole in the floor where Bucky’s go bag had been. Yours pulled out your own which was still hidden behind the old sturdy fridge. The final thing you had to do was get rid of your phone. You pulled it out of your pocket, along with the wallet containing the ID you had been using and left if on the counter, exactly as Bucky had instructed. It seemed a strange thing to do but it was part of the plan; people would be busy hunting down the woman from the photos on your ID. By the time they realised it was a stolen identity you would be long gone with a new look and a new name. You took a final glance and headed out of the door and out into the cool late afternoon breeze.

Now you were going to take a risk and deviate from Bucky’s carefully constructed plan. Before travelling to the designated rendezvous point you were going to take a detour. You could provide Bucky an alibi for the Vienna bombing. If you got to him now then maybe you wouldn’t have to stick to the original plan. As you walked to the bus stop you ran through what you had to do if this didn’t work. The clock was already ticking. If you didn’t get Bucky now then you would go to the safe house. If he didn’t show up within the 48-hour time frame then you would have to abandon him and go on the run again without him.

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The bus you were sat on took you into the centre of Bucharest where Bucky was being held. As the buildings rushed past the windows you tried to keep focussed but your mind kept drifting to Bucky. Even before the bombing he was wanted by pretty much every nations intelligence services for crimes committed as the winter soldier. Bucky would never willingly provide information. You just prayed that the intelligence services wouldn’t just assume his guilt when he was uncooperative and defensive. No intelligence service would be above using torture to get what they wanted, especially when it came down to someone as infamous as the winter soldier. They would have to realise they had got the wrong person, hopefully before they started to interrogate Bucky in earnest.

Out of the window you could see a large crowd of people staring into the body of water. A quite ring of an alarm could be heard and news vans were pulling up in front of the building. Paramedics there treating people stood around the many ambulances. This couldn’t be unrelated so you pressed the stop button and quickly disembarked and wondered across the bridge towards the chaos. People in bloodied clothes were not trying to keep their voices down as they talked hurriedly about recent events. You walked with purpose, trying to blend in and pick up any useful information “I saw him. He looked so cold, so inhuman. It was like he was a robot. Killed all the guards on his way out.” It didn’t take you long to figure out who they were talking about. The winter soldier. It was worse than anything you could have imagined.

“Did you see what happened to him?” You pushed yourself into a group of women who were talking. They all turned to look at you. “Sorry, do we know you?” A blonde woman sent a challenging glare your way. “I work in the basement in IT” The lie fell easily from your lips as you sent a small back at her. She shrugged, seemingly believing you. “He went down into the river in a helicopter. Captain America went under as well. The divers are looking for them now. No sign yet.” You nodded before quickly saying goodbye to the women and headed away from the scene. They had told you everything you needed to know. Bucky was alive. He was with Steve. Steve would keep him safe until he was himself again. All you had to do know was get to cabin outside of the city and pray he would do the same. If he could still remember you.

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You rented a car under the guise of one of your fake identities, paying cash and providing a false address for insurance purposes. The poor girl at the company had no clue that the particular car you were borrowing was unlikely to be returned in one piece, if at all. The four-wheel drive was ideal for the long journey into the forests in the north of Romania. Hours later you were exhausted. The evening sky dimming as you hid the car at the end of a dirt track. The final distance was to be covered on foot taking you deeper into the forest. It was hard going; the thick undergrowth slowing you down and posing a constant challenge.

It was a journey you had hoped you never had to make. But as the small wooden hut, miles away from civilisation, came into view you allowed a sigh of relief to escape your lips. Bucky had really outdone himself this time. There was no way that anybody would find you. The building looked like it had been abandoned over 20 years ago. “It’s not exactly luxurious doll, even by our standards.” He certainly wasn’t kidding. After a brief tour you realised that it would be comfortable enough, it had the basics. Bucky had even left some rations. It was so off the beaten track that there was no chance of anyone stumbling across the place. You couldn’t help but wonder how Bucky had found it. Every time Bucky discovered a new safe house, the week following was filled with maps, questions and what if scenarios. It bordered on obsessive the way he quizzed and challenged you until he was satisfied. But you wouldn’t have it any other way. It wasn’t a normal activity for a couple but you didn’t care. If it meant being with Bucky, making him happy, then it was worth it.

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It was midday when you woke up. You had been that tired you hadn’t even bothered to take off your shoes as when you collapsed onto the mattress. As you sat up you were momentarily confused by your surroundings only for the events of the last 12 hours to sneak up on you triggering a groan of frustration. You glanced at your watch. Bucky had just over 30 hours to get here before you left. How likely was that? There was every possibility that the HYDRA brainwashing could still be determining his actions. The best you could hope for was when he was finally himself again, he remembered you enough to try and track you down. At this point there was nothing you could apart from sit and plan out your next move. Of course, you wanted Bucky to walk through the door, sweep you into his arms and end this nightmare but you had to plan for the worst. Bucky would hate for you not to follow the plan. It was one devised to keep you safe, which was his priority. He had tried to prepare you for this eventuality and there was no way you were going to let him down.

You spent the best part of the next 24 hours trying to figure out where to go next. Even though Bucky wasn’t there he had given you a head start by circling a couple of places on the map hidden in your bag. Scotland seemed like a sensible next step; you had plenty of money and the lack of a language barrier would certainly help. The evening was focused on changing your appearance. It had to be convincing enough to fool anyone looking for you but similar enough to the photo in your fake UK passport. You used the scissors you found in the rudimentary kitchen to cut your hair into a choppy bob, adding a fringe to add a little more anonymity. There was little else you could do apart from using some coffee to darken your hair. As you looked into the cracked mirror you shrugged, it wasn’t much but you definitely less recognisable. All that was left to do now was get some rest. Only 6 more hours to go.

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“Just 10 more minutes” you mumbled to yourself. You paced back and forth on the creaking floor of the hut. If you delayed your departure, even just a little, maybe he might show up. The idea of leaving and him showing up once you were gone was sickening. So, you waited for as long as you reasonably could. An hour later as the sun started to dip behind the trees you reluctantly gathered up your bag and made your way out of the hut. Immediately after you closed the door behind you, you got the sense that something wasn’t quite right.  Your eyes scanned the treeline in front of you and to your dismay something was moving. There wasn’t any time for you to find a place to hide. The sound of twigs snapping under foot was getting closer by the second.

Captain America stepped into the clearing and came closer the instantaneous sense of relief vanished as quickly as it had appeared. You shivered involuntarily as you saw the blood covering his face, the rips in his uniform. Worry and exhaustion evident in his eyes as he stepped closer. “Steve?” Your voice came out as a whisper but thankfully he seemed to have heard you. “Um hi, I’m sorry I don’t know who you are. I was given these coordinates by Bucky and I…” You stepped forward at cut him off “Where is he? Is he ok? Why isn’t he here?” You could feel the blood rushing through your head, your fists clenched around the straps of your bag. Steve’s frowned, his eyes studying you intently. “He’s on the jet.” He scratched the back of his neck “We were in a bit of a fight. He’ll be fine, just needs to rest. Left him sleeping.” Steve didn’t miss the way your eyes widened and then contracted to glare at him. He resisted the urge to chuckle at you, but he was a little scared of how you would react, he didn’t really want to piss you off more than you already were. “Why are we still stood here then?” Steve gestured to you to follow him “I’ll take you to him.” You followed him without a second thought. All you wanted was to see Bucky, to feel the warmth of his body next to yours.

For the next couple of minutes, the two of you walked in complete silence, Steve walking a couple of steps in front of you leading the way. He was even more impressive in person, even when he had clearly had the shit beaten out of him. Steve was slightly taller and wider than Bucky but you could see by the way he carried himself that he was less agile. All you knew was that whoever they had been fighting must have come off much worse than the super soldiers. “We’re nearly there. I’m really sorry, I still don’t know your name?” “Shit, sorry. I’m Y/N. You mentioned Bucky’s name and I kinda forgot about everything else.” Steve glanced over his shoulder and sent you a small smile. “I know the feeling, he has that effect on people.” A minute later, he suddenly stopped in front of you making you nearly collide with him. The jet was standing in a small clearing ahead. Steve placed a gentle hand on your shoulder and looked down at you softly. “I don’t want you to get too much of a shock. It looks worse than in is. I promise he’s going to be alright.” You bit your lip and nodded slowly, trusting the man you barely knew.

Bucky was resting again the side of the jet. You bit back a cry as your eyes swept over him. His face was covered in blood and despite his accelerated healing the swelling was gruesome. But your eyes were drawn to his left arm, or lack of arm. He was still sleeping as you knelt down in front of him. You removed the bag off your shoulders and opened it to fish out the first aid kit. Steve came and stood next to you. “I’m gonna fire her up. I’m taking him to Wakanda. King T’Challa has offered us sanctuary there. I can drop you somewhere on the way if you want?” Your attention remained on the box in your hand. “Thanks Steve, but I go where he goes.” You shot a quick look up at him. Steve just nodded before heading off to the front of the jet.

Sitting back on your calves your eyes scanned over the wounds on Bucky’s face again. Some of them were healing up already. All you needed to do was clean off the blood and clean then deeper gashes around his eyes and mouth. “Take a picture it’ll last longer.” Bucky’s voice sounded quieter than normal but the slight teasing tone told you he was ok. His blue eyes found yours and held them, no words were needed. Bucky winced slightly as he leaned to cup your cheek in his hand, his thumb tenderly wiping away the tears that had begun fall. Your hand went up to rest on his, holding him to you. “I thought I lost you.” The statement was barely audible. Bucky pulled his hand away from your face and held your hand in his. “Doll you don’t ever need to worry about that. I will always find my way back to you no matter what.” He pulled your hand up to his lips. “I love you Y/N.” You sat up on your knees and pushed a rogue bit of hair back off his face. “I love you Bucky Barnes.”

Bucky let you clean him up, his eyes glued to you the whole time. Once you were satisfied that his physical wounds had been properly seen to, you sat down next to him, your thigh brushing against his. You looked across him and saw his eyes flicking between you and the floor. Normally this kind of proximity was welcomed but you knew his was nervous. Scared that he could inflict damage with even the smallest of touches. “I know it’s a dumb question but how are you doing?” His jaw clenched and you could see him trying to construct an answer he thought you might want to hear. “Honestly Buck.” Your tone warm but demanded the truth. He rested his head against wall and let out a heavy sigh. “I’m alright physically. My arm doesn’t hurt but I just can’t trust myself, my mind. All it took was 10 words and I was gone, nothing but a brainwashed assassin.” He flinched as you placed you hand on his thigh, for an awful minute you thought he was going to pull away. Bucky took a deep breath before looking at you, his eyes expressing emotions he couldn’t vocalise. “You’re not a monster.” He opened his mouth to argue but you stopped him. “No. You listen to me. I love you. Yes, you have done bad things, but it wasn’t really you. You are a good man James, nothing could convince me otherwise.” He bit at his bottom lip and his eyebrows fused together. Hesitantly he lifted his arm up and placed it over your shoulder. You leaned into him and rested your head on his shoulder. “I couldn’t live with myself if I ever hurt you Y/N.” Nestling further into him you shifted your arm so that it was draped around his abdomen, anchoring him to you. “You won’t hurt me. I trust you with my life.” Bucky didn’t want to argue with you so left it at that. He kissed the top of your head before resting his head on top of yours. After the events of the last couple of days he allowed himself to relax a little, watching as your eyes fluttered shut and your breathing deepened.

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Steve sidled over an hour later. He looked at his best friend and his girl. “She’s a good one Buck. Most would run but she seems pretty determined.” Bucky smiled. “Yeah I don’t deserve her.” Steve frowned. “How did you meet?” Steve lowered himself down against the opposite wall of the jet and tried to work some of the tension out of his shoulders. “Actually, I have you to thank for that.” Steve’s eyebrows raised in confusion and question. “The day I pulled you out of the river. I made it to the park and collapsed onto a bench.” Steve grimaced remembering the fight on the Helicarriers. “She was heading home from the shift from the hospital and found me. Insisted on taking me back to hers to patch me up. Wouldn’t take no for an answer and here we are.” Listening to his friend, Steve couldn’t help but feel sad and a little jealous. He didn’t know if he would feel the same love that Bucky did. Peggy’s funeral had been 3 days ago and the woman he had a crush turned out to be her niece, which made things a little more complicated. Now with the events of the last week cementing his criminal status, no woman in their right mind would go anywhere near him. Despite being apart for over 70 years, Bucky could still read Steve like a book. “Hey punk, you’ll find someone. If someone can love me after being brainwashed for years then I am certain that you will.” Steve gave a half-hearted smile before getting to his feet. “I’m gonna head back to the front, we must be getting close now.”

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“Doll, we’re here” Bucky lightly tightened his arm around your shoulder. The sunshine was streaming in through the open ramp making you squint as you tried to open your eyes. “You two ready for this?” Steve had appeared and was stood in front of you, hand holding the front of his belt, as he slipped back into Captain America mode. You glanced across to Bucky who was already looking at you, ready to answer the unspoken question. He nodded at you and you turned back to Steve. “Yeah, let’s do this”. Steve helped the pair of you to your feet and started to lead the way out onto the landing strip. Bucky stayed close to you, his fingers brushing against yours as you walked out into the heat.

The royal welcome party greeted you all warmly. Bucky was clearly nervous, his hand twined around yours and keeping you tucked against him. Steve was in a deep conversation with the King when a young girl introduced as Shuri approached you and Bucky. “I can fix you. It would be easy. Well for me anyway.” You felt Bucky shift awkwardly next to you, his grip on your hand tightening slightly. “Uh thanks, but I don’t have the rest of my arm.” The princess laughed. “I could manufacture you a new arm with my eyes closed but that wasn’t what I was talking about. I’m talking about the stuff in your head.” Steve diverted his attention to the conversation immediately. Bucky’s mouth was hung open in shock. “What do you mean?” You voice shaking slightly as you asked the question Bucky couldn’t. Shuri rolled her eyes. “The brain is like a computer, it’s just a case of reprogramming.”  Bucky tried to suppress the hope currently rising within him. “Your saying you get out what HYDRA put into my head?” Shuri grinned. “For sure, just need to take a look in there.” She pointed to his head. Bucky’s face fell, the last thing he wanted was someone else poking around in his head. “My sister is very capable Sergeant Barnes. Take some time to think it through. You are welcome to stay as long as you want. All of you.” The King looked at you and smiled.

In the evening after washing away the events of the last few days, you walked into the living room of the suite to find Steve and Bucky huddled together talking in quiet voices. Shuri had shown them around her labs before they were taken to their rooms. She had you convinced in an instant that she could cure Bucky. You had watched the cogs turn in Bucky’s mind as he considered what was being offered to him as Shuri removed the last parts of his metal arm. It wasn’t your decision to make but you were determined to support him whichever way. The two super soldiers stopped their whispering as you walked closer to them, Bucky sitting up and looking at smiling softly at you. “Hey doll, how you feeling?” You took the seat next to him. “I’m alright just a bit tired.” Steve watched the interaction between the two of you. He knew the conversation that needed to happen, wouldn’t, if he stayed. Awkwardly he dragged himself up onto his feet and made his goodbyes, leaving you and Bucky in silence.

His bottom lip was nipped between his teeth, a sizable distance between you on the sofa. His face was set, his eyes cast down trying to mask the sadness. “You’ve made up your mind, haven’t you?” Bucky nodded still not raising his head. Moving yourself off the sofa you came to kneel in front of him, your hands resting on his knees. You tilted your head until your eyes found his. “It’s ok. Whatever you have decided it’s ok.” His hand landed on yours, fingers knitting together. “I’m going to let Shuri try. She came to see me whilst you were in the shower. I think she can fix me, it shouldn’t take her long but …” His eyes closed briefly as he tried to find the right words. “I don’t trust myself. Not whilst this stuff is in my mind still. I’m going to into cryo again.” Your free hand ran up and down his calf. “Hey, look at me Buck.” Hesitantly he met your gaze, clearly worried about your reaction. “It’s alright, I’m proud of you. It was always your decision to make, I’ll still be here when you wake up again.” He shook his head. “It shouldn’t be like this. You deserve someone unbroken, who can give you the life you deserve.” You pulled your hand from his and sat back, your hand running through your hair, a frustrated groan living your lips. “So, we are back to this again. I decide what kind of life I want to have, not you. I choose you. Do you think I would have followed you around the world if I didn’t? When are you going to accept that you’re stuck with me Bucky? What do I have to do to convince you?” Hot tears ran down your cheeks, your lips pressed into a tight line trying to remain as composed as you could. “I’m sorry” His voice barely above a whisper. “Y/N, I’m sorry.” Bucky repeated those words like a mantra. Over and over again, his head hidden under his hand, rocking back and forth slightly. The sight of him in such a state made you feel guilty. The last couple of days clearly had taken their toll on him both physically and emotionally. You perched on the arm of the sofa and manoeuvred Bucky so that his head was resting against your chest, hand carding through his dark brown locks. “Hey, you’re alright. I’m here.” His arm circled your waist, clinging to you. “I’m sorry” he repeated. “I know. Me too.”

Both of you sat like that for a while. Bucky not wanting to let you go anytime soon, pulled you off the arm of the sofa and onto his lap. “When?” The single word loaded with an enormous weight. “Tomorrow.” You felt your heart sink, you had only just got him back and you were going to lose him. Yes, it wasn’t permanent and it was for his own good, but the couple of days you had been apart had made you realise that your life had little meaning without him.  Bucky sensed the disappointment in you. “It’s not for long. Just think that after, we could have a normal life?” You nodded against his shoulder not trusting your voice.

Steve joined both of you later for dinner. Bucky and Steve chatted animatedly, reminiscing about their childhood. It was as if they had never been apart the way they teased each other, laughing and joking as they recalled stories.  All of you kept the conversation light and avoided talking about anything too serious. Steve enquired about your life before meeting Bucky so you gave him a history of your childhood and life in New York. He listened intently and commented on how much New York had changed since they were kids. Time slipped away from you all and before you knew it, it was midnight. Steve headed off to his room, promising to join you tomorrow morning before heading down to Shuri’s lab.  

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You watched Bucky come out of the bathroom, his boxers hanging low in his hips. A smattering of blue and purple bruises still evident across his toned torso. He climbed into the bed next to you, leaving space between you. Taking the initiative you shuffled over towards him. You kissed the scars on his shoulder where his arm had been joined, then moved your mouth over his body pressing your lips to every bruise you could see. “Doll, I can’t.” From where you were now straddling his hips, you looked up at him through your lashes and murmured between kisses. “Can’t or won’t?” The hardness you could feel forming below gave you the answer. Bucky closed his eyes and slammed his head back into the pillow. “I trust you. Let me take care of you.” You sat up, your hips naturally grinding against his with the movement.  He groaned at the sensation, his eyes fluttering open. He sat up slowly, his eyes searching yours for any doubt or worries. He didn’t find any. You leaned forwards crashing your lips into his. Your tongue flicked across his lips and they parted instantly allowing you access, the kiss becoming more heated instantly. Tongues battling with one another, making both of you moan into each other’s mouths. Bucky missed his metal arm as he could hold you tightly against him like he wanted to, instead he had to settle for pressing his hand on your lower back, pushing you to him. Your hips wiggled at his touch creating a delicious friction. Bucky moved his mouth from yours and trailed kisses along you jaw before travelling down your neck, nipping and sucking at the delicate skin as he went. One of your hands held onto the back of his neck acting as an anchor whilst the other trailed along the muscles of his back, nails dragging, leaving faint red lines in their wake.

“Doll, your shirt”. You leaned back and pulled your top off. Bucky’s mouth instantly made its way to your breasts. His tongue flicked over your hardened nipples, before taking one into his mouth. You threw your head back and gasped as he bit down gently before withdrawing, licking and kissing the sensitive skin and then repeating the process on the other. Whilst Bucky’s attention was directed at your chest you moved your hand down between you and under the band of his boxers. As your hand grasped his hardened length, Bucky released a growl. Your fingertips glided over his most sensitive part, making his buck up into your hand. “Doll” he gasped as your hand moved and twisted along his length. “Y/N” His voice strained as he tried to remain in control. You removed your hand and pushed Bucky back onto the bed. Standing up, you quickly removed your dampened underwear. Bucky started to pull his off but was struggling, you stepped closer to him and helped ease them off his body. You sucked in a breath at the sight in front of you. Bucky shifted his hips; your eyes tracked the movement and you heard him chuckle. “Come on doll, the anticipation is killing me here.” A devious smile formed on your lips. “I promised to take care of you.” You straddled his hips once again, rocking back a couple of times, covering him with your wetness. “But I’m going to make you wait.”

Bucky bit back a moan as you skated your hand down your body, tracing the curves of your breasts before guiding it lower to your core. He watched as your fingers circled your clit, occasionally flicking over the sensitive nub.  He couldn’t take his eyes off you. He watched as your head tilted back and your eyes fluttered close as you brought yourself nearer to the edge. The sight along with your cries of pleasure nearly made him come prematurely like an excited teenager. The movements quickened and your breath became ragged as you neared your climax. Your free hand massaged your breasts and Bucky placed his hand on the other, pinching and rolling the nipple between his fingers. Your orgasm tore through your body, one hand keeping the pressure on your clit the other falling to Bucky’s chest to hold yourself up.

Bucky’s cock was throbbing now, the show you had just given him had whipped him up into a frenzy. His hand squeezed your thigh urging you to do something. Taking the hint, you took him in your hand and guided him easily into your heat. Both of you gasping as you sank down until he was fully seated. You stayed still for a couple of seconds getting comfortable with the stretch. Bucky moved his hand to your hips as you started to rock back and forth. “Jesus doll” he panted, already so worked up from before he had to try and calm himself down. His eyes locked onto yours. You leaned down, placing your hands either side of Bucky’s face, lips colliding once again. Your hips quickened the pace as Bucky began to thrust up into you. The knot in your stomach was tightening once again, you gasped into Bucky’s mouth as he began to thrust harder and faster into you. Suddenly he pulled out of you completely and you whimpered at the loss. He repositioned you so that you were on all fours and he was knelt behind you. It wasn’t exactly what he wanted, but was the best he could do whilst missing an arm. He pushed himself back into you and set a punishing pace, his hand gripped your shoulder as he pulled you to meet his thrusts. You screamed as you once again neared the edge. “Doll, touch yourself. Please.” The desperation in his voice made you obey immediately. Your fingers circled your swollen clit, your walls starting to flutter. Pleasure overtook your body and you fought to keep yourself upright as your legs began to tremble. You shouted out Bucky’s name as you reached your high. As your walls clamped and pulsated around him, his thrusts became sloppier. He chanted your name before releasing himself inside you with a grunt. After a final few thrusts he wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled your flat against his chest, lowering you down onto the bed.

Both of you were covered in a film of sweat, panting as you tried to catch your breath. Bucky placed tender kisses to your shoulder before nuzzling against your neck. “I love you Buck” you whispered as your eyes began to close from exhaustion. “I love you too Y/N.” Bucky wasn’t sure if you heard him or not as he heard your breathing change and drift off to sleep, not even bothering to untangle yourself from him. Carefully as not to wake you he removed himself from you and awkwardly got himself out of bed. You didn’t stir as he cleaned you up or has he curled up behind you. For the first time this week Bucky allowed himself to fall asleep.

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The mood in the morning was sombre. Even Steve had an air of sadness to him when he arrived for breakfast. None of you spoke, just occasionally sending a half-hearted smile at one another. An hour later the three of you headed down to the lab. Bucky held your hand tightly the whole way there and was reluctant to let to when King T’Challa offered his hand to shake. “Sergeant Barnes, are you sure about this?” Bucky seemed to doubt his decision for a second but then he looked at Steve and then at you. “Yes.” His eyes never left yours as he replied. “Let’s just get this over with.” King T’Challa patted him on his shoulder and nodded his approval. “I’ll give you all a minute.” Both himself and Shuri stepped out of the room leaving just you, Steve and Bucky. “I’m proud of you Buck.” Steve gave Bucky a bear hug. Bucky leaned in and whispered something inaudible in Steve’s ear to which Steve nodded before they broke apart. Your bottom lip was trembling as Bucky stepped closer to you. “Doll, please don’t cry. If you cry I want be able to go through with this.” You nodded before burying your head into his chest, arms clinging to him. He kissed the top of your head delicately. You tilted your head up to his and kissed him. It wasn’t a heated kiss but it was filled with everything you wanted to say. The door opened and Bucky prised himself from you.

You watched as Shuri closed the door to the cryogenic chamber. Bucky’s face was still visible from inside. He looked directly at you and mouthed “I love you.” You smiled back at him “I love you too.” Shuri turned on the machine, the sound of the cold air being pumped into the chamber. As your knees began to buckle a strong pair of arms circled you and held you upright. The tears that had been threatening falling cascading down your cheeks. Steve held onto you tightly, already keeping the promise he had made to his best friend moments ago. When Steve finally released you, you glanced back to look at Bucky. A fresh wave of tears formed but you took comfort from how peaceful he looked, as if he could be sleeping. You didn’t want to leave him but couldn’t find it within you to fight Steve as he led you away.

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The next three months flew by. The civil war in Wakanda had started and ended with little warning. Instead of leaving, when it was suggested by Shuri, you had immediately offered your services as a nurse and helped tend to the wounded and even doubled up as her lab assistant during emergencies. It was the least you could do really, the hospitality you had been shown during your stay was incredible. Steve had left to go and rescue Sam and the others from the Raft. He phoned you every now and again to check on the progress with Bucky but you got the sense that it was to check up on you too.

You were sat by the lake just by the hut T’Challa had provided for you when your thoughts were suddenly interrupted. “I told you I could fix him.” You turned to find Shuri strolling down the hill towards you. “You mean it’s done?” She grinned back at you. “Of course, it was simple really. We need to wake him up to be certain though but all of my analysis says it should have worked.” It was almost too good to be true. Shuri turned and started walking back up the hill. “Are you coming? I don’t think Sergeant Barnes will be happy if he wakes up and you’re not there.” You nearly tumble over in your rush to catch up with the Princess. The butterflies in your stomach making you feel sick.

Shuri switched off the machine and you watched nervously as Bucky’s eyes blinked open. She opened the door and you walked towards him. Shuri took his hand as he stepped out, a little unsteady on his feet. You placed your arm around his waist for support and helped Shuri lead him over to the bed and got him to sit on the side. “Y/N” his voice croaked. “Hi, I missed you.” You picked up his hand and held his palm to your cheek. For a couple of minutes, you just looked at one another, taking in every last detail.

“Sorry to interrupt. How are you feeling Sergeant Barnes?” You lowered Bucky’s hand but still held onto it. “Fine, just a little cold. Did it work?” Shuri nodded. “We won’t know until we try to say the words. I have them here I just need to get someone to read them whilst I scan your brain.” Bucky’s face fell slightly. “I’ll do it.” Shuri nodded but Bucky looked at you in horror. “Doll no. I don’t want you to seem me like that. Plus, you can’t speak any Russian.” You stepped back and looked at him dead on. “You wouldn’t hurt me, I trust you. And I can speak Russian.” He looked at you confused. “You talk in your sleep, I picked up a bit and then learnt a little every time you went away.” He shook his head in disbelief. “Ok let’s do this Sergeant Barnes.” Shuri said lightly.

Bucky continued to argue as Shuri attached the scanner to his head and scowled as she handed you the list. He insisted that you stand on the other side of the room which you agreed to. Shuri gave you the signal and you crossed your fingers as you said the first word.  You watched as Bucky scrunched up his face and gripped the edge of the bed but it didn’t seem to have much impact. The next 6 words passed in a similar vein, no reaction, not indication on the scanner of any abnormal activity. You paused briefly. “Come on Y/N keep going.” Bucky growled at you, eager to get this over with, wanting to get the disappointment out of the way. You said the last three words and studied Bucky. Shuri was smiling and raised her fist in the air in celebration. But Bucky didn’t seem wholly convinced. “Say them again Y/N but one after another.” You followed Bucky’s command, not taking your eyes off of him.

Bucky opened his eyes and saw you watching him nervously. He then turned to Shuri, not wanting to celebrate too early. “It’s official Sergeant Barnes, I’m a genius. No sign of electrical activity at the trigger words. I would say you are cured.” A grin spread across his face, his features losing every last bit of tension and worry. Shuri removed the scanner and left the room. You walked towards him, tears of happiness in your eyes. He pulled you so that you were standing in between his legs, your hands on his shoulders. “I love you Y/N.” Dipping your head down, you pressed your lips to his. “I love you too.” Bucky wiped the tears from your face with his thumb and rested your forehead against his. “I’m all yours doll. If you still want me.” You drew back from him to look into his blue eyes. “Always. Just as I am yours.” In that moment as you looked at the man you loved with your whole heart, you felt complete. Everything was exactly how it should be. Somehow you knew that you could take on any challenge the world might throw at you as long as you were together.  

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[leisurelypanda]

Hello! I really enjoy your blog and writing on ao3! I can't get this out of my head, and was wondering if you've got any thoughts on it. What do you think would have happened if Thor had been around during Civil War? (To help Steve, presumably, but then again you might have a different take!) Thanks!

Thanks so much! I love these types of asks!

First off, Thor would absolutely help Steve if he had been around for Civil War. He knows what it's like to follow foolish orders (Odin) and he would be of the opinion that if people need his help, he's not going to stand around waiting for permission to act. Also, he's literally a prince from another world. Midgardians have no right or authority to tell him what he can and cannot do.

He would also how Steve would feel about saving his friend, especially after he was framed for a crime he didn't commit. Although he's never met Bucky, he remembers the lengths he went through to bring Loki back to Asgard.

Secondly, if Thor had been around, the odds would've been stacked in Steve's favor, even considering Tony brought Peter on board (a fact I'm still salty about but that's for another post). The battle at the airport would've been hella one sided. Thor would probably pull his punches... but only slightly. He would probably also try to reason with Tony, Natasha, and Vision the way Steve tried to do before Tony got impatient and attacked. He wouldn't succeed, ultimately, and he would probably simply go for the arc reactor to cripple Tony's ability to fight.

As far as Peter is concerned, Thor always appreciates a challenge. He would find Peter's powers fascinating and his habit of making banter during a fight amusing. Thor would definitely approve of him. After he beats Peter, he would tap him encouragingly on the shoulder and tell him to keep training and that he has potential. Peter would probably gush a bit (headcanon that Peter's celebrity crush is Thor as evidenced by the look on his face when Starlord says Thor isn't good-looking in Infinity War).

Between Thor being on the team and Natasha secretly helping Steve, there's likely no way Steve's team wouldn't have won outright. Steve and Bucky would have reached Siberia, the rest of the team would've escaped rather than gone to prison, and Tony would've been incapacitated until he could get another arc reactor. Zemo's plan would likely have failed without causing a bigger falling out between Steve and Tony, and Steve could find a to break what Bucky did to Tony's parents gently rather than have it dropped on him the way it was.

So all in all, I think that the reason Civil War was the absolute clusterfuck it was is due to the fact that Thor wasn't there. Thanks again for the question!

#ask #headcanon #captain america: civil war #thor #iamthe-wo-manwhocan