#many thoughts head full of civil war bucky

[sjsmith56]

Trouble, Chapter 7 - Eyes of the Father

Summary: Bucky sends a letter to Lacey via her publisher. Soon after, he is caught.

Length: 5.2 K

Characters: Bucky, Steve

Warnings: Lots of violence

Author notes: The events in this chapter happen from about a month prior to the action in Captain America: Civil War movie up to the flight to Siberia. I have tried to minimize using dialogue from the movie but that is easier said than done so have paraphrased many segments or substituted my own dialogue. There are also some segments spoken in Romanian and Russian. They are in bold case.

<<Chapter 6

✉️ 🏍️

One month previous, Bucharest.

"Iacob!" called the truck driver. "What are you looking at? These boxes won't shift themselves!"

Bucky pulled his attention back to the boxes in the truck and picked up several of them, stacking them on a dolly. He pushed the dolly into the book store while trying to figure out how a poster with Lacey's picture on it could be on full display in the book store window. There had been no time to read the blurb that went with the picture except for the name identifying her as L.C. Chapman. The driver followed him with his clipboard and together he and the book store manager went over the boxes. Satisfied at the count the manager signed the paper on the clipboard and the truck driver ordered Bucky to take the dolly back to the truck.

"You're distracted today," said the driver in Romanian as they both got into the cab of the truck. "I've never seen you this way. We have eight more stops this morning. Get your head on straight, Iacob."

Bucky nodded. "Sorry," he said. "I'll do better."

As the driver went on to their next delivery Bucky thought over the name. L.C. Chapman. Did she get married? Perhaps she chose a new pen name to keep her identity secret, especially if the Russians were still after her. Part of him still worried that he shouldn't have left her but he knew if he stayed the CIA or FBI would eventually catch him, or worse yet, HYDRA would. After work he would go to the book store and have a better look at the display, perhaps buy the book. Throughout the rest of the work day he kept his thoughts away from Lacey and just did the heavy lifting he was hired for. When the truck driver returned to his depot he handed Bucky his time slip and told him to go get paid. It was in cash, which was exactly how he wanted it.

As he jumped on the streetcar that would take him near the bookstore he kept his head down out of habit. His stop came up and he stepped off, walking towards the business, stopping to look closer at the poster now that he had the time to do it. The poster was in Romanian but at the bottom it did say they had English language copies for sale. He stepped inside and looked intently at the book display picking up one of the English copies. He looked at the author information page and was pleasantly relieved that nothing indicated she had married. It did say she suffered from agoraphobia and lived in rural Iowa. He went back to the front of the book and read the summary, smiling that the plot referred to Virginia Woolf. Then he looked at the dedication page and was startled to see the following:

To my brother Tom. I miss you all the time.

To B. Thank you for the inspiration.

        L.C.C. June 2015

He smiled and pulled out some of his cash, paying for the book and walking to the market with it in his arm. Waving at some of the vendors who knew him as a regular he stopped and picked up some vegetables, putting them into the string bag he always carried in his jacket pocket. He heard his name and turned to see the fish vendor. He had a fresh catch in so Bucky picked out a trout and paid for it. The vendor said his name again and handed him something, a picture of himself.

"My daughter was practicing her photography and she took this of you," said the vendor. "I apologize she didn't ask your permission first. Here, it is yours."

Bucky looked at it and nodded his thanks. He thought of asking about any negatives but decided against it. He had a good relationship with the fish vendor and didn't want to sour it over a negative that would likely be in the bottom of a box. Before leaving the market he checked his surroundings, ever on the alert for anyone watching him. Then he took a roundabout way back to the small flat that had been home for the past year and a half. It was still dreary in many ways but it was clean, dry, and so far no one had come looking for him. After preparing and eating his dinner he laid back on the mattress and started reading Lacey's new book. As he read it he remembered something and stopped reading, putting her picture inside the page to mark his spot. He pulled out a journal type book from under the mattress and put a colour coded sticky note on the edge of the page, marking it as a memory from a certain time in his life. It was a memory of him buying Orlando: A Biography at a college campus bookstore with a senior coed on his arm. Her name was ... Edna, and they had a pretty intense physical relationship for the two weeks it lasted. Then he said something critical about the book and she took offence, telling him she didn't want to see him again. He finished writing the memory down and closed the journal.

He had several such journals, full of scattered memories, kept in a backpack that he hid under the floorboards of the apartment. It had been one of the first things he made in that dingy apartment, a hiding place for those precious memory books. The idea for it had come from the hiding place in Lacey's grandfather's house, the one the flash drive had been hidden in. Picking up Lacey's book he kept reading until almost midnight then reluctantly put it away. Stripping down to his boxers and undershirt he laid back on the mattress under the thin blanket and thought of Lacey again, hoping she was alright. Gradually, he fell asleep.

For the next few days he showed up at the truck depot, getting hired on for the day to do all the heavy lifting, receiving his cash wages at the end of the shift and heading out to the market to pick up food to eat. Then after eating he would lay on the mattress and either read Lacey's book or write down more memories that rose through the still cloudy recesses of his mind. When he finished the book after the third day he looked at it.

"Good work, Lacey," he said out loud, smiling. "I hope this one is more successful."

On an impulse he tore a sheet of paper out of one of his journals and wrote her a letter.

Dear Lacey,

I had the surprise of my life when I saw a huge poster of your face in a bookstore window. I returned there after finishing work and bought your new book. Thank you for the dedication but I really did nothing except read some Virginia Woolf in 1941. You incorporated her writings into your story in a way that was brilliant. You persevered and you succeeded. I'm so proud of you.

Obviously, I can't tell you where I am as I am still living under the radar. Every day I find an odd job that pays cash. It's enough to keep me in food, and books. In the centre of the city there is this beautiful market, full of fresh vegetables, fruits and anything else that one needs. They all know me there and keep the best produce for me, knowing that I appreciate it. Of course, I help out there from time to time, as well.

Nights are different. I stay home and read, or write down the memories that keep appearing in my mind. There is no rhyme or reason to them so I have taken to colour coding them with sticky tabs. Red is for war memories, blue is for before the war memories, yellow is for everything else except for sexual or erotic memories, which are purple. The latter often show up at the strangest times but I won't go into that other than to say the memory of our encounter won't ever have to be written down for me to remember.

I still think of that night we spent together. Making love with you was special and I will never forget how you looked when we were giving each other pleasure. There hasn't been anyone since and I'm not looking. I don't expect you to wait for me as I think I made it clear that we likely wouldn't see each other again. If you have a chance for love with a good man take it, run with it, and live it. I want you to be happy.

This seems like the right time to end this letter. I hope you are able to enjoy some success with your new book. I hope you find someone worthy of your love. I hope you are happy. I hope you don't forget me because I will never forget you.

Bucky

Before he could change his mind he put the picture with it inside an envelope and wrote her name in care of the publisher on it. Pulling his clothes on he ran to the small corner store and bought enough stamps for the letter to go to the United States. Then he posted it, tapping the mailbox with his hand before heading back to his quiet and lonely flat.

Three weeks later Bucky went to the market early as it was Saturday, he wasn't working, and it would be busy. As he picked up some plums something didn't feel right, and he looked around wondering why it felt like someone was watching him. Walking away from the fruit vendor he stood for a moment, still feeling exposed and looked up to see a man in the newspaper kiosk staring at him. The man definitely looked spooked and as Bucky approached him the man ran out of the kiosk. On the counter of the small booth was a newspaper with a blaring headline that Bucky stared at, not believing what he was reading. It was his picture and it said he had bombed a UN meeting in Vienna killing 12 people, including King T'Chaka of Wakanda, and injuring 70. He dropped it and backed away, trying not to hyperventilate. Taking his usual roundabout route he made his way to the flat only to find someone inside it. The man, whose back was to him, turned around and Bucky took a sharp intake of breath when he saw it was Steve. He was looking through one of his memory books.

Steve asked if Bucky remembered him. Bucky replied that he had read about him in a museum but Steve wasn't buying it, knowing that Bucky knew exactly who he was and why he was there.  Thinking it had to do with the newspaper headline Bucky said he wasn't there and wasn't responsible for anything like that.  But Steve was insistent that the people coming for him wouldn't believe him and were ready to kill him.

"Can't say I blame them," replied Bucky.  "Knowing what I've done in the past it's a smart move."

He listened to the sound of heavy boots on the roof above him and started turning towards the door.  Steve moved at the same time, trying to convince Bucky not to fight.

"I have no choice," replied Bucky, resigned to what was about to happen.  "If I don't, they'll kill me for sure."

"You pulled me out of the river and left me on the riverbank," said Steve desperately, as Bucky pulled the glove off of his metal hand. "Why did you do that?"

Bucky shrugged not wanting to admit that it may have been an impulse because he wasn't sure if he had really remembered who Steve was at that time.  Steve wasn't buying it but before he could say anything more the GS9 task force started their attack and threw flash bombs inside the room. Almost as if no time had passed from when they last fought together the two men coordinated their response to the attack and neutralized the bombs. As two armed men jumped into the room from the windows Bucky hit one, knocking him across the room to land at the other wall. After Steve dealt with the other he yelled at Bucky to not kill anyone. In response he knocked Steve over, punched the floor next to his head and glared at the man who had been his friend.

"I wasn't planning to," he said grimly, then reached into the hole in the floor and brought out his backpack from its hiding place.

Stuffing his remaining books into it he tossed it out the window onto the roof of the building next door. As more of the task force entered firing away Bucky fought them off and entered the stairwell. Steve watched Bucky methodically fight off attacker after attacker working his way down the stairwell until he had no choice but to jump only to break his fall by reaching out with his metal hand and grabbing the stair railing. Hauling himself onto that floor he ran down the hallway and out the opening at the end jumping onto the roof of the next building, rolling, and grabbing his backpack immediately.

Out of nowhere a man dressed completely in black attacked Bucky and they fought desperately against each other. Steve jumped to the roof while alerting Sam to their location. A police helicopter approached and fired at them until Sam was able to divert it. Bucky continued running across the roof, jumping off down to the ground, followed by the man in black then Steve. From there Bucky jumped down an opening into an underground roadway, running as fast as the cars were being driven. It seemed like every police car in the area was following him as he ran.  Steve was able to commandeer one putting himself ahead of the others. He became aware the man in black had attached himself to his car and tried to shake him but the man didn't let go until he saw Sam approach and leaped into the air, grabbing Sam's feet. Bucky was able to take control of a motorcycle and raced through the tunnel until he came upon a row of police cars blocking his way. Switching to the opposite lanes he weaved through oncoming traffic until the man in black succeeded in jumping on him. They fought on the bike and Bucky was able to temporarily shake him off but he succeeded in catching Bucky again and both men went down, rolling hard against the pavement. Before the man in black could attack Bucky, Steve intervened and the three men faced off against each other as they were surrounded by police cars as the armed officers in them came out training their weapons on the three. Sam was forced down by Colonel Rhodes in his War Machine suit and all four men in the pursuit put their hands up in surrender. Then the man in black deactivated the suit he was wearing, removed his head covering, and revealed his identity, Prince T'Challa of Wakanda.

Bucky didn't resist, allowing himself to be cuffed and transported to a location where he was secured into a reinforced pod that restrained all of his limbs. They took everything from his pockets, even the crucifix that Eleni gave him, worried that he could use it as a weapon. The pod was loaded into an armoured truck where Bucky was accompanied by four armed guards. He never spoke on the trip to Germany, to the Joint Counter Terrorist Centre, but when they unloaded him in Berlin he saw Steve, Prince T'Challa and another man, who he recognized as the one who had searched for him in Canada, exit a police van. Steve made eye contact with him, not looking happy at how Bucky had been restrained but the former Winter Soldier was resigned to his fate. He had eluded the authorities for two years but deep in his heart he knew eventually he would be caught. At least he was alive and for that he had to thank Steve.

As he sat in the pod a man with glasses came in, introducing himself as Dr. Broussard, a UN appointed psychiatrist who was to assess him. There was something not right about Broussard, especially when he began asking Bucky questions.  For the most part Bucky ignored the man until suddenly the power went out and Dr. Broussard took a book out of his briefcase that brought up the metallic taste of fear into Bucky's mouth.  He recognized it as the red book that his Russian HYDRA handler had used and it contained the activation words that would bring out the Winter Soldier.

"No," he whispered, as the man began to recite the activation words that would activate the Winter Soldier, then he began yelling at the man to stop.

The man kept saying the words and Bucky began screaming as he tried to break out of the restraints wanting to stop the man from saying the words. He broke the restraints and kept punching the glass on the pod, desperately trying to break free before the man finished the last word but he was too late.  As he felt his own personality sink down deep into blackness, the personality of the Winter Soldier stepped forth when he finally broke through the door of the pod.

"Soldier?" asked the man in Russian as Bucky rose from the floor.

"Ready to comply," replied the Winter Soldier, also in Russian, his face impassive.

"Mission report," said the man, switching to English. "Tell me about December 16, 1991."

The Soldier made his report and waited for his next orders.  The man told him to hide and wait for Captain America to arrive, then stop him from following. Broussard laid on the floor pretending to be injured. Steve and Sam arrived within moments to the sight of the destroyed pod. Looking at the bodies of the guards on the floor Steve knew the psychiatrist had used the activation words, just like Lacey had warned him. The man sneered at Steve when he was hauled up from the floor, saying he wanted to see an empire fall. Suddenly behind him Steve heard the sounds of Sam being attacked.  Turning he saw Bucky in the persona of the Winter Soldier picking Sam up and throwing him across the room. Advancing towards the Soldier the two men fought, punching each other as the Soldier forced him backwards to the elevator door where he pushed Steve through, making him fall to the bottom of the shaft. As Sam and Steve regained their senses the fake psychiatrist escaped while the Soldier made his way to the main floor atrium where anyone who tried to stop him was brutally beaten back.

T'Challa fought him and even he was thrown to the floor as the Soldier went up the stairs towards the roof. A helicopter strapped into a set of secure locks was unclipped by the Soldier, then he opened the door to the cockpit and started it up. As the aircraft began to rise into the air Steve burst through the door to the roof and approached the helicopter, grabbing its landing skids and forcing it down. Increasing the thrust to take off forced Steve to hold on to a welded steel frame on the edge of the building.  With all of his strength Steve held it with one hand and braced his feet while grasping on to one of the skids with the other hand. Unable to take off the Soldier grimly directed the helicopter towards Steve, attempting to kill him with the rotors. Steve avoided injury by dropping and the rotors were destroyed when they hit the roof, grounding the helicopter. As Steve rose to look inside the cockpit a titanium fist came through the glass and fastened itself around his throat with the determined face of the Soldier trying to complete his mission glaring at him the whole time. Leaning into the destroyed helicopter Steve was able to force it off the building and into a canal beside the Joint Counter Terrorist Centre. The impact jarred loose the Soldier's hand and Steve watched as the Soldier was knocked unconscious. Reaching inside, he unstrapped Bucky and swam underwater with him to rise to the surface in a different location.

When Bucky came to he felt terrible. His head rang like a bell but when he moved he found his titanium arm clamped in a large industrial vise. Looking around he realized he was inside an abandoned warehouse and wondered if HYDRA had succeeded in getting their hands on him. The black man who he recognized earlier called out to Steve and they both came into the space where Bucky was confined. He murmured Steve's name and his friend looked at him carefully wondering out loud if he was still the soldier.

Bucky told Steve his mother's name was Sarah, then grinned when he recounted the memory of Steve filling his shoes with folded pieces of newspapers in a desperate attempt to appear taller.  It brought a smile from Steve's face, as it was something that wouldn't be in a museum.  It was a memory only they shared.  Sam, wasn't quite convinced but took Steve's word for it that the Soldier was gone, for now.  It got serious when Bucky looked anxiously at Steve and asked what happened. By the look on Steve's face Bucky realized that the activation code had been used on him to bring out the Winter Soldier.

"The words are still there inside my head," agonized Bucky. "Anyone could say them and I would have no choice but to obey."

Steve asked about the doctor who had activated him but Bucky had no idea who he was. Steve chastised him which Bucky remembered him doing growing up when he thought Bucky was trying to pass the buck. Bucky tried to remember then it came to him.

"Siberia," he stated. "He asked about Siberia, when I was kept there."

He felt almost sick as he remembered what was in Siberia and he told the two men there were more Winter Soldiers, more dangerous than him, kept in a cold storage facility, waiting for the day when they could be awakened and unleashed on the world. Steve released him from the clamp of the vice and Bucky told them everything he remembered about the other Winter Soldiers, comprised of a highly trained Russian death squad. Sam, who Steve had finally introduced properly, realized they were unlikely to get anyone to believe them about the others. But he and Steve knew they were going to need some help. As Steve and Bucky listened Sam made a couple of phone calls. Help was on the way.

After laying low overnight they found an older Volkswagen Beetle and Steve hot wired it, to the amusement of the other two. Steve drove them to an underpass where a government issued vehicle waited for them and he got out of the Volkswagen. A blond lady exited the other vehicle and opened the trunk, revealing Sam's Falcon suit and Captain America's gear.

"That's Sharon Carter," said Sam, sitting in the front seat. "She's related to Peggy Carter. You knew her, right?"

"Yeah," replied Bucky. "She wouldn't give me the time of day. Only had eyes for Steve. Can you move the seat up?"

Sam glanced back. "Not happening," he replied bluntly.

Bucky reluctantly moved to the other side of the back seat. He wasn't sure he liked this guy, Sam. Steve and Sharon kept talking and he suddenly pulled her towards him, kissing her tenderly. Then they pulled apart and Steve began taking the gear out of the trunk. He looked back at Sam and Bucky who both just smiled and nodded their approval at him. From there they drove to an airport parking structure, going up to where a large white van was parked. Steve pulled up next to it and an older man, identified as Clint, got out of the driver's seat. He looked sharply at Bucky but Steve shook his head slightly and Clint said nothing to him. A young woman, Wanda, came out of the passenger seat then Clint opened the back of the van revealing a stranger to all except Sam. The stranger sleepily sat up and saw Steve, coming forward and shaking his hand eagerly before he saw Sam. They greeted each other and Bucky figured they knew each other. At that moment an announcement in German was broadcast across the airport. Bucky listened and turned to them.

"They're ordering the evacuation of the airport," he translated.

"Get ready," ordered Steve.

Shortly after they were at the tarmac where a helicopter arranged by Clint waited for them. Steve ran to it but was intercepted by two men in metal flying suits, Iron Man and War Machine, realized Bucky, remembering them from HYDRA briefings, as he watched from the terminal with Sam. As Black Panther, a red headed woman, and a kid in a spider costume also appeared Steve explained that it was the psychiatrist who triggered Bucky. He tried to tell them about the super soldiers still in Russia but they weren't going to listen and he knew it would come to a fight. In his comms Sam told Steve where the quinjet was and the battle lines were drawn. Bucky stayed with Sam in the terminal but the kid in the spider costume kept them busy, surprising Bucky with his strength when they briefly fought one on one. Eventually everyone squared off against each other outside and Sam realized that a sacrifice had to be made, making it known to the others on their comms. The goal was to get Steve and Bucky to the quinjet. Everyone else was expendable. Clint agreed with Sam and they changed their tactics, resulting in Steve and Bucky making it to the hangar where they were confronted by Natasha, the red headed woman, who looked vaguely familiar to Bucky. Like Clint she also looked sharply at him.

"Promise you'll tell him," she said to Steve. "Promise, or I won't help you."

"I promise," said Steve. "I'll tell him everything."

She aimed her taser weapon at them then shifted it to hit an approaching Black Panther repeatedly and disable him long enough for Steve and Bucky to get into the quinjet and get it started. T'Challa tried to grasp hold of the landing gear but they were able to take off and he fell to the ground. Steve set the course and turned on the autopilot before looking steadily at Bucky.

"What was she talking about?" demanded Bucky. "What do you have to tell me?"

"There's no easy way to tell you any of it," said Steve, "so I'll start with a name. Lacey Williams or as she is known now, Lacey Chapman."

Bucky looked pointedly at Steve. "How do you know about her?" he asked anxiously. "Is she alright? Did the Russians...?"

"She's alright," said Steve, putting his hands out to calm Bucky. "She lives on Clint's farm with his family. Her and her son."

Bucky said nothing at first but as he realized Steve mentioned a son he looked stunned. "Her son?" he asked. "When did she have a baby?"

"About nine months after you left her," said Steve. "He's your son, eight months old, has your blue eyes and looks just like you."

"No, that's not possible," protested Bucky. "She was on a pill. I'm sterile from all the shit HYDRA pumped into me."

"Not as sterile as you think," said Steve. "It must have worn off because she found me a month after you left and asked for our protection to keep her and the baby secret from the CIA and HYDRA. She lived with us in Stark Tower until we were attacked there. Long story. Clint's family lives on a farm that doesn't legally exist. He offered her his protection and she took him up on it. I was with her when Tommy was born."

"Tommy?" repeated Bucky, still not completely convinced.

"She named him Thomas James, after her murdered brother and you," replied Steve. "I'm the one who called him Tommy. As soon as he was born I knew he was your son."

Steve reached inside his uniform and pulled out a flip phone. He opened the photo gallery and brought up a small photograph of Lacey and Tommy from a couple of weeks previous. Then he handed it to Bucky. The dark haired man sat back, peering at small pictures of a baby who had his eyes and the blond woman who found herself pregnant after he left her. Flipping through the gallery of pictures he looked at all the images Steve had taken of the baby from the day he was born to the most recent. He handed the phone back to Steve looking at him steadily.

"I have to make this right," he said. "As soon as we get that doctor you have to take me to the States so I can make it right with her."

"It's not the 1940s anymore, Buck," replied Steve. "She made the choice to have the baby, to keep it and to raise it herself. She wants you to get right for yourself first. Get the arm replaced, get the activation words out of your head, and get treatment for all the torture you suffered. I think she's right on this one. She's a strong woman and she'll wait for you."

"That's not how we were brought up," replied Bucky, raising his voice. "You know that. How can I leave her on her own while she raises my son?"

"She's a successful novelist," replied Steve, "and she has more money than you or I have. She'll be okay, I promise. She wants you to be well before you're together again. I'm pretty sure she wants a future with you, if you want the same."

Bucky sat there, contemplating everything then looked at Steve with resignation on his face. "Alright," he declared. "We get the doctor and then we find someone who can take this thing off. I'll go for treatment. Once I'm better, I'll see if she still wants me."

"Do you want her?" pressed Steve, trying to gauge how Bucky felt about her.

"Yeah," he replied after a pause. "If I had met her before the war I would have married her. She's the one."

Steve grinned and patted Bucky on the shoulder. When Lacey had first told him about being with Bucky he had been concerned that she was just a one-night stand but Bucky's admission that she was the one gladdened him. Not only for Bucky's sake but for Lacey's. She was worth the commitment and he would do all that he could to make sure they were reunited.

Chapter 8>>

Series Masterlist

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #buckybarnes original female character #sam wilson #steve rogers #james buchanan barnes fanfiction #bucharest

[galacticwildfire]

Memories | Bucky Barnes

Thirteen

Bucky Barnes x oc

Word count 5.3k

Tags: violence, torture, a couple soft moments, mostly pain

A/N: pure pain for the next few chapters, thirteen will be the end of winter soldier, fourteen an aftermath chapter, and fifteen civil war. Also new cover

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I'm bound and blindfolded, but I'm no stranger to darkness. Having been trained to be deadly without my vital senses. But somehow, it draws me into something I'd rather forget.

My heart had never been so cold despite how my blood boiled as Howard told me the offer our government made Zola.

"Given the valuable information he has provided, and in exchange for his full co-operation, Dr Zola is being remanded to Switzerland."

I sat with him, along with Peggy and Steve. What used to be five now four.

"Where is Zola?"

"He's our prisoner," Steve said, too devastated for violence."There's nothing left for us to do."

"I was his prisoner first," I reminded him, my voice shaking. "And so was Bucky."

Everytime I closed my fucking eyes all I could hear was his scream as he fell, and my own as Steve had to grab me by the waist and fight me to stop me from throwing myself out after him.

"He's gone Ada," Steve quaked. "Killing him won't bring him back."

Steve blamed only one person, himself.

I did not. There was only one person I blamed, and he signed his death certificate the moment my husband fell to his death.

"No, but it will avenge him."

And so that night after Peggy took Steve away to try to convince him to eat something I was left with Howard. Howard who could never truly refuse me.

"Where is he?"

"If you do this there's no coming back from it," he warned me. "The people running things are already terrified of you after Russia, if you kill Zola they'll lock you away and I don't know if I'll be able to get you out this time."

"Howard, please," I pleaded with him and grabbed his hand, gripping it tight as I asked one last time "Where is Zola?"

And then I did what I was trained to do. Infiltrate and kill. Except the moment I entered Zola's holding cell, I knew I wanted him to suffer more than I wanted him to die.

"Mrs Barnes," he said, rubbing salt in the wound. "My condolences on your husbands death."

"He's dead because of you," I gritted out, barring the door from the inside so no one would be able to stop me. "All of this is because of you."

"Your husbands death was a terrible accident," he told me. "With what I had planned for him, I would have much rather he be taken alive."

I strike him hard, shaking violently. "You tried to make me the Winter Soldier, and when I escaped you found him." There was one shining light I found in this. "You will never get your hands on him again."

"Debatable," he said much to my horror. "His body will still be there. Cold and frozen. No doubt by now blue." He watches the horror that wrecks my body. "You have spilled so much blood, left so many bodies in your wake, and yet it is the thought of his that is too much? You put a bullet in the head of your own sister ,only a child, tell me could you look at her body?" Cold tears slip down my cheeks. "You couldn't, could you? We forged you to be a beautiful bloody angel of death, and yet I know what your mother would say, such a failure."

I pulled free my blade, one small knife, and yet with it I knew how to inflict a world of pain. "And what do you think I will do to you?"

"Nothing," he answered with a sick grin. "Not if you want to see him again." I trembled as he told me "The serum. Do you truly think such a fall could kill a man with blood the same as yours?"  The images started running through my mind, the scream, the fall. "One soldier falls, and another rises."

It's at the mention of the Winter Soldier all feeling leaves my body and I take a step towards Zola, intent to make him scream until there is nothing left he can tell me, until his body feels just what mine has. So he bleeds a fraction as much as my heart has.

And it would not be until three hours later they would manage to bust down the door and take me away in restraints.

The restraints on my wrist now are all too familiar as Pierce finally comes to greet me.

"You- you have become quite a problem for me," he says while I remain calm. "I sent the Winter Soldier to kill you."

"You sent a man to murder the woman he loves," I correct. "Let me educate you on psychological conditioning since you seem to be ignorant. You can torture us, pick at our brains and fry them with electricity and brainwash us into forgetting who we are. But we are still human. More human than you are. The brain may forget, but the body, it does not forget. It remembers, it feels. You may try to strip away that humanity, but you don't make us machines, you only make us animals. And what happens when you torture an animal? Eventually it will bite."

That is what I am, what I always have been, more animal than anything else and that's what I am now. Filled with the primal urge for blood, to protect what is mine.

"I'd call you psychopaths," he replies, holding my eye. "What else do you can a woman who murders her nine year old sister in cold blood?"

"She was the second subject of the Winter Soldier program after they lost me. For months I searched for her behind those empty eyes, I truly believed there was nothing left, until I had a gun at her head and she whispered please and I saved her." In the darkness, I remember the start, before I escaped to America. "Those precious words you use to control him." The colour drains from his face at the mention of them. "Who do you think they were first used on before they perfected their combination of electrocution and conditioning?" I keep my head held high, knowing he will not survive this. "He is stronger than your torture."

"Your faith in your husband may be your only endearing quality," he remarks. "Standing there knowing at any moment he could put a bullet right in your pretty head, or maybe you just don't care if you die?" He begins to circle me. "Because it is my understanding he is only alive because you were too weak to kill him." I keep my eyes set on the wall, refusing to let him get inside my head. "Seventy years of torture, all because you couldn't bear to do it." He comes back around the front of me, looking me in the eyes as he says "Even if he could remember, would he ever forgive you for it?"

I let out a dangerous breath "You think words can break me? Nothing can fucking break me."

"Is that so?" It's then he turns on a television mounted to the wall and I see him, I see him bound to a table, shirtless so I can see the scar tissue covering him, some scars I left that night trying to keep him from killing me. Immediately now without the armour I can tell whatever serum they gave him worked. He had enough in his veins to survive the fall, but his body is nothing like it was. A transformation not as extreme as Steve's but extremw enough. "Quite the specimen, it is absolutely remarkable the amount his body has withstood, the electric currents should be enough to kill even the strongest man, but the serum... I dare say he is even stronger than Steve Rogers."

I watch the doctor attempting to fix something in his arm as he continues to tell me "A specimen that in seventy years has never defied an-" I gasp out as he suddenly throws the doctor across the room and finds guns drawn on him. 

I can't help but relish in the shock on Pierces face. "You were saying?"

He's cursing as he leaves the room, the door being locked and barred and I'm left there bound to the damn chair to watch on the television as he enters the room and has security step back.

The first thing he does is order "Mission report?"

But I see the long stare in his eyes, I see James not the Winter Soldier. I see the same stare I would wake up to in the middle of the night, when he'd be sitting up in bed and staring at the wall, silent so as not to wake me. I recognise it all too well and know he's remembering.

"Mission report now."

Pierce steps forward, leaning in to take a better look and I jump as he strikes him across the face, but he doesn't do anything, he doesn't fight or throw him across the room. But something changes in his face, as if he's woken up.

"The woman on the bridge," he says, and my heart stops. "Who is she?"

Pierce keeps the answer simple. "The Red Widow. She's your target."

He looks at Pierce as he says "I knew her." That faith Pierce mocked... I was right. He is still in there. "I- I loved her."

Tears blur my vision, he may not remember me, but he knows that he knew me, that he loved me. Proof that even when the mind forgets, the heart remembers.

Pierce tells him. "Your work has been a gift to mankind. You shaped the century, and I need you to do it one more time. Society is at a tipping point between order and chaos, and tomorrow morning we're going to give it a push." It's then the warning comes into his voice. "But, if you don't do your part I can't do mine, and Hydra can't give the world the freedom it deserves."

But he's not listening, he doesn't care, all he says is "But she knew me."

Pierce sighs as he stands and orders "Prep him."

I hear a doctor say "But he's been out of cyro freeze too long."

"Then wipe him and start over."

He looks near tears, nothing like the emotionlessness I saw in my sister when she was their subject. I couldn't bring her back, all I could do was save her from them as I should have done to him. But now I can see it was for a reason. Because he can still be saved.

It's then Pierce points at what must be the camera, pointing straight at me. "She thinks you belong to her. She's watching right now. And we're going to show her that you belong to Hydra."

I don't look away as they force him down and put a guard in his mouth to keep his teeth from breaking. I don't look away as they activate the metal restraints. And I sure as hell don't look away as they put on him the same fucking torture device they did seventy years ago that left the bruises he wore when I first found him. I don't look away as he screams and convulses, instead letting it fuel something inside of me.

I told Sam I wanted out, that I wanted a normal life. For a moment I thought I could have it.

Now... now I'd burn down this fucking city to free him.

And I just might.

But Pierce returns with soldiers and gives one order.

"Break her."

~

As electricity courses through my veins I'm brought back to a place I'd long forgotten.

I'd been extradited back to the United States for trial after James brought me back from Russia. We sat in his apartment in Brooklyn the night before the trial.

"I have American blood on my hands Buck," I told him and shake my head. "I didn't want to do it, but I still did it."

"Tell them it was the psychological conditioning, the electrocution," he says, having seen the tape they sent to American intelligence. "Tell them you didn't know what you were doing."

"I did know what I was doing," I tell him, utterly numb. "They put me through hell. I spent weeks in their facility being tortured, being made and unmade and eventually I- I gave up fighting." I look at him, and in his eyes there's only pain. "I pretended they'd made me their Winter Soldier. I could have kept fighting but I didn't."

"Why?" he asks me and I lower my head. "Why did you stop fighting?"

"Because if it wasn't me it would have been her," I tell him. "It would have been her purging Stalin's ranks of traitors and anyone he deemed an enemy. I pretended to be like her, brainwashed and under their control with a few damn words, but I was there the entire time. I knew what I was doing and I did it." I blink away tears. "I never thought you'd go into the heart of the Soviet Union to bring me home."

He reaches over to take my hand and makes me look at him. "Then you forgot who I am. No man left behind, remember?"

"I still want to strangle you for doing something so fucking stupid." That brings a shadow of a smile to his face. "I'm serious James."

"I know," he assures me. "But it was worth it wasn't it?"

"It was a suicide mission," I grit out. "I could have been their Winter Soldier, I could have been a brainwashed killing machine who didn't remember you. I could have killed you on the spot-"

"That was a risk I was willing to take," he says, watching the tears spill down my cheeks. "Maybe I'm a fucking idiot. Steve and the rest of the unit thought so. Maybe love made me crazy. But I knew there was a chance to save you, and I couldn't not take it."

I smile sadly as I bring his hand to my lips, kissing it and resting my cheek against it. "They may yet still send me to prison."

"I'd like to see them try," he tells me and tugs on my hand. "Come on."

I look up at him confused. "What?"

"You've been gone for months," he says, pulling me up to my feet and holding me close. "You're home, I don't want to waste another moment worrying about tomorrow. I just want to be with you."

And so I take him in my arms, and for the first time I want something more than revenge. I just want him. "When we have Zola, when this war is over, I don't want to stay in the army." He pulls away just enough to look at me as he listens. "For the past months all I've done is follow orders and shed blood I- I don't want to do that anymore. I want to try to right the wrongs I've done, but not if it means more bloodshed." He smooths a hand over the back of my head and brings it around to cup my cheek as I tell him "I just want to be here with you. To have a normal life. As normal as it can be."

He gives me a small smile. "If that's what you want then we'll have it. You and me, living like two normal people, like we aren't living breathing science experiments." We both laugh and he kisses my forehead. "What do you say, once the wars done we start chasing the American dream? "

I scream out as I'm prodded like a fucking animal with an electric baton right in the neck, but they don't have a fucking clue what's already been done to me.

I look at Rumlow and spit blood right in his face. "Try harder." He strikes me across the face and I only smile. "You call that torture?" I look him right in the eye. "I've done things to people you couldn't even dream of. If you want to break me you're seventy years too late."

He grabs my face and turns it towards a camera in the corner of the room. "It's not you I'm doing this for." My blood runs cold as I realise just who's watching. "Scream, or it will be him in that chair."

I just tilt my head at him. "Do you think making him watch you torture me will work in your favour?" He grabs my throat, standing over me as I smile "You should know, I was their Winter Soldier long before Hydra ever touched him." I look to the camera. "Longing, rusted, seventeen-" his eyes widen in horror as he realises just what I'm doing. "Daybreak, furnace, nine-" he throws me down along with the chair, wrapping both hands around my throat but he doesn't realise I'm far stronger than he is and with the leverage I bring my feet up, using the weight of him on top of me to break the chair and the restraints that hold me and I throw him back into the wall, getting to my feet and yelling the last words "Benign, homecoming, one, freight car!" 

I look at the camera as Rumlow gets to his feet and I give the order "Kill them!"

As soon as I finish those words I hear the sound of screams and gunshots and I turn back to Rumlow, free and out for blood. I revel in the fear in his eyes as he realises what I've done.

"You don't know what you just did-"

"I know exactly what I just did," I assure him, having nothing but apathy for every single fucking person in this building. "But he's not going to be the one to kill you, I am."

He doesn't have a moment to reach for his gun as I launch myself at him, throwing him head first into the concrete wall and then into the floor, listening to him scream as I bring the electric rod to his neck, stopping just before he can go into cardiac arrest and whisper "I want you to know before I kill you, today is the day Hydra falls."

With those very words I finally reach the blade they didn't find in the back of my boot and cut his throat, letting the blood pour out onto the concrete. When I hear the door open I'm not afraid, and look up to see him standing there in his armour, ready for battle.

The moment I look into his eyes I know they've scrambled his brains, even if they didn't have time to wipe. They wanted to let whatever remained of him suffer through watching me scream before they wiped it from his mind. But looking at him now, all I see is the Winter soldier.

I let Rumlow go, his body hitting the floor and look him in the eye as I take Rumlows assault rifle and tell him "Today, we kill everyone in this building, and then we kill the man who did this to us." He gives me a single nod. "Where are they?"

"In lockdown," he answers, voice robotic. "Backup on the way."

Which means we don't have time to waste and I ask one more question "Where are the explosives?"

He turns without a word and leads me through the empty building, bodies left in his wake covering the floor and I watch as he enters an armoury as if in autopilot choosing a rocket launcher and loading it with an efficiency that leaves me cold.

"You don't have to do it," I tell him, not wanting to control him, not wanting to force him to do anything but he looks at me with the same expression he wore when questioning Pierce. "I can kill them."

His voice is filled with emotion I didn't expect. "I want to do it."

Yet he won't do anything without my order, he can't, it's his programming and so I give him permission "Do it."

I follow him through the building to where the scientists and soldiers have locked themself away being a heavy metal door, but not heavy enough as he raises the rocket launcher and pulls the trigger. The explosion rings out, bigger than I anticipated as I stumble backwards but he stands there without even flinching and slowly lowers the rocket launcher before putting it down.

"Come on," he tells me as he walks past me without a second look. "We need to go."

My hearts in my throat as he takes me through the building to a garage filled with trucks and tanks. He opens the door to one of the armoured trucks and tells me "Get in."

"I thought I was meant to be giving you orders," I breathe, his assertiveness having not been stripped away as I climb in and he gets in the drivers side and I look at the heavy door. "How do we get out?"

"We killed everyone with a security pass," he answers as he revs the engine and I look at him as I prepare myself for what he's gonna do, even as the Winter Soldier his brain still works the same. "Hold on."

I bring my arms up over my face as he drives us straight through the door, the tires screeching as we're immediately fired upon and I grab my rifle, positioning it out the window and firing blindly at the Hydra agents who follow and yell out "Where are we going!"

"You tell me."

"Fuck!" I curse, slamming into him as he practically flies around a bend and bring my wrist brace up, slapping it to try to get it to work to call Natasha. "Nat! "Natasha can you hear me!"

"Ada?"

"Rumlows dead and we're on the run," I yell out, bullets ricocheting off the truck. I" need co-ordinates!"

She repeats back "We?"

Shit. I look at him and know this is something I can't explain right now, and plead with her. "I'm being shot at and I need co-ordinates."

Reluctantly she gives them and I repeat them to Bucky who gives me a nod as he drives towards the highway out of the city, somehow managing to lose the Hydra agents. 

Once it's safe we sit there in silence, both covered in blood. I open my mouth but I don't know what to say, where to begin?

When they captured us he'd broken free of the Winter Soldier for long enough to remember me, to overpower the programming that told him to kill me. What I did in there was say those fucking words to break us out, but here now beside me isn't James Barnes, but the Winter Solider.

"My name," I begin nervously. "Do you know it?"

He doesn't answer me, but observes "You're shaking."

I have no doubt in the past seventy years almost every person he's ever laid eyes on has looked at him with fear and so I tell him "I'm not afraid of you."

His voice wavers. "You should be."

"I was the first Buck," I tell him and he listens carefully. "I was the first Winter Soldier in 1940, but I escaped before they could make me what you are." He doesn't say anything, but I've waited too long to sit here in silence. "You knew everything I'd done, and you were never afraid of me."

I saw him asking Pierce who I was, he might be quiet now because he's too afraid to cross that line, too afraid of what is behind it. But I'm not.

"You know me, you know you do." I watch that wall begin to come down. "I saw you ask Pierce who I was, so ask me."

He shakes his head, as if in pain. "Stop."

"James," I grit out and he flinches. "I need you, I need you to remember so they can't control you." Him remembering he knew me was enough to override his orders to kill me. "The more you remember the less control they have. You killed the scientists in the lab, you know what they've done to you." His muscles tense as he tries to keep himself from lashing out, but I need him to, I need him to remember as much as it fucking hurts. "You watched them torture me, they tortured me because they know a part of you remembers and they wanted to break it." My voice is desperate, pleading with him "Don't let them fucking break it."

I watch his fist clenching, needing him to remember what they did to him, to us. It's then I remember, I remember the mission recalls. They might wipe his memory, but they leave just enough intact to remember the missions. 

And I was his very first mission, the first person he was ordered to kill.

And so I dare to ask "Mission report. March 19, 1945." I gasp out as he stops the truck, slamming on the breaks to a halt and I watch wide eyed as he grips the wheel so tight it cracks. "James-" But it's then as I look forward I realise we've reached our destination, pulled up outside an abandoned base and the next thing I know he's getting out of the car "James!"

I catch movement from the base and my heart stops as a dozen men with automatic weapons run out and I jump out of the car running after him as they order "Hold the line!"

"No!" I yell out, grabbing him and pushing him behind me and it's Maria Hill who holds up her hand to hold the fire. "Don't fire!"

It's then Sam and Natasha appear and I'm shaking as she raises her pistol "Ada, what are you doing?"

"Who gave her the co-ordinates!" Hill demands to know.

"You should have told me-" Nat begins.

"You wouldn't have told me if I did," I say, grabbing onto his arm to keep it still, to keep him from making any sudden movements. "He's with me."

"He shot Fury," Nat says, shaking her head at me. "You can't trust him."

"Where's Steve," I demand to know, knowing he is the one person who will stand with me. "Where is he!"

It's then he walks out and goes pale at the sight of us, immediately running in front of the guns and yelling "Hold your fire!" He steps forward, looking at his best friend, at his right hand, for the first time in seventy years. "Bucky."

But before anything else can happen, I stare in shock as Fury limps out bellowing "What the fuck is going on out here!" He stops when he sees me, and just shakes his head, as if he expected it. "Agent Morgan, I swear-"

"He is with me," I insist, despite everyone looking at me like I'm crazy. "Steve- please."

He steps forward to stand by my side as Bucky takes a few steps back, his orders to obey me and his instinct for survival clashing violently as we stand in front of the firing squad.

"It's him Steve," I say, looking up at him, the only person who can convince them. "He remembered me. He doesn't know how but he's in there. He had orders to kill me but didn't do it. There's a chance."

He realises now I knew all along, from the night Fury was shot, and despite the betrayal I know he has to understand. Because I didn't know until I saw him if there was still something left.

He looks back at Bucky who stands there overwhelmed, looking like he may just implode or explode and back at Fury.

"He's my soldier and so is she," he says to Fury. "You aren't going to kill him."

"Rogers, I know who he is," Fury says to him. "I know what he is to you, but he is the Winter Soldier."

"He is," I say stepping forward, a dozen guns on me. "And I have the words to control him." It's then Fury's face changes. "I have Hydra's fist and you are running out of time to stop them from committing a genocide. So move aside and let us in so we can figure out how to kill them."

He looks me over and asks one question. "Whose blood is on your hands?"

"Rumlow's."

He looks at Bucky and then back to me "He makes one wrong move, does anything that contradicts what you're telling me, and he's gone. Understood?"

"Understood," I say and Fury gives the order to put the guns down, and I look at Natasha who knows the truth of who he is to me and then to Sam, who looks at me in a way he never has and I know he sees a different person, a person I thought died in 1945.

I'm frozen in place as Steve approaches Bucky, in his eyes I see recognition, but little else.

"Bucky," Steve breathes but it only brings confusion to his eyes and he looks back to me "He- he doesn't remember?"

"I'm sorry Steve," I say quietly. "He- he knows us, but he doesn't remember how."

Those words strike pain in Bucky, and I see the same look I did when we were in that lab and know the fact he can't remember brings him more agony than either of us,

"Come on," I tell James. "You're safe with me."

He looks past me to what's left of Shield, no doubt every instinct in him screaming at him to either turn back or kill them all. But he won't, he can't.

"James," I say again, Steve watching as I order him "Come with me."

Steve's gaping at us along with everyone else as he follows me into the base, I keep my eyes forward as everyone else keeps their hands on their weapons. He's a myth to the intelligence community, the spy version of the fucking anti christ. I can't blame them for being terrified.

"They don't trust me," he states as we walk inside, every single eye on us.

"They don't trust me either," I tell him and he turns his head towards me. "Everything you've ever done, I've done just as bad. They don't trust us, but they don't need to."

I lead him inside and feel Sam and Natasha following and know I have explanations to make and so I instruct Bucky "Can you wait inside that room please?" The phrasing seems to confuse him since it's a question, indicating choice. "Can you please?"

He gives a stiff nod and enters one of the rooms with a glass wall so I can still see him and stands there as a soldier at rest.

Sam sneaks up beside me, his voice low "So the guy standing over there with the metal arm who tried to kill us is your husband?"

"Yeah," I breathe, my heart not having stopped pounding since the moment he found us. "He is."

Sam gives me an incredulous look. "Shit, not what I imagined. Big guy."

I let out a nervous laugh. "Me neither, he never used to be that big I can assure you." "

He nods and tries to joke "So, no second date then?"

I shake my head. "You would have gotten to the third date and realised I'm fucking crazy anyways." 

He looks back at just who I brought inside the base without warning and says "I don't doubt that."

Steve comes over and pulls me aside, voice desperate. 

"How much does he remember?"

"I don't know," I admit, and look back at him, standing there waiting for orders. "Right now he is the Winter Soldier, but once this is over..."

"Once this is over he's the country's biggest national security risk," he says and I look down at the floor. "He-"

"Will be with me as we attack," I tell Steve, not wanting to think about what comes after this. "We're about to go to battle, that's what we need to focus on."

It's then Nick appears. "Agent Morgan, a word."

Steve gives me a nod and I follow Nick inside one of the offices expecting to get a grilling, but he just leans against one of the desks and asks me "Do you trust him?"

"Yes."

He tilts his head at me "But should you?" I look away and he warns me "I know you loved him seventy years ago... but that person is gone. I've read the files on the Winter Soldier, I know what he's done, what he's capable of-"

"And you've read mine," I return. "You know he and I are just as awful as each other."

"But the difference is you still have a conscience, you still have free will."

"Then trust me to control him," I grit out. "Trust me Nick. Trust me to do whatever it takes to bring down Hydra if nothing else."

"Alright," he says, knowing my hatred for Hydra is more important right now than either my sanity or my loyalty. "Then it's time to get ready for battle."

But before he goes I ask "Did you know?" He look at me with almost pity. "Did you know he was alive?"

For the first time ever, I can tell he's being truthful as he answers "No. I didn't. If I did then I wouldn't have ended up getting shot by him."

~

As everyone prepares for the mission I fill up on food, having not eaten since we were at Sam's and make an extra sandwich for James. I find him still standing in that room silent, having not moved since we arrived here.

"I brought you something to eat," I tell him, putting a sandwich on the table and he only looks at it confused. "It's jam, you like it." But of course he wouldn't remember that and I have to order him "Eat."

He's silent as he sits down and takes the sandwich, not knowing how to act and I realise for seventy years they've no doubt just pumped him full of enough liquid calories to keep him from losing muscle. He takes a bite, and I have to force myself to keep my face neutral. Watching him try to eat like he's a robot trying to figure out how to be human again... it makes me sick. Sick knowing what my weakness in that lab led to.

When he finishes I look out at everyone still preparing to leave and ask him "Would you like another?"

The question just confuses him and I know what's crossing his mind, bewilderment that someone is offering him something, and second the fear that it's a trick question, dangling something in front of him only to be punished for taking it, and so he stays silent.

"I'll get you another one," I answer for him but as I turn to leave the room he speaks up.

"I remember," he says and I freeze. "March 19, 1945, I remember."

It was cruel, of all things to ask him to remember that day, but I need as much of him back as I can before we go out there, Every piece of him he remembers is his armour against the Winter Soldier, it's the only one he has.

"Then you know that I love you," I say, my voice shaking as I turn back to look at him and he wears the same look as he did when he told Pierce that he knew he loved me. "And you'll know from the hell that was that night that I won't give up on you."

I can see Bucky in his eyes as he shakes his head, voice ashamed "But I hurt you."

"I give as good as I get," I promise him and see Natasha giving me a signal to hurry it along. "I don't know what's going to happen out there Buck," I tell him, and for the first time remove his dog tags from my neck. The pair I found in the snow with his arm. "These are yours, it's time you got them back." He watches as I press them into his hand. "These will help you remember."

He closes his hand around them and takes them, confused and I realise that he doesn't even remember the war. He doesn't even remember who he was before this.

"You were a soldier," I tell him. "A war hero." That seems to bewilder him. "Before they made you the Winter Soldier you were a hero, a good man.  You might not remember, but you were. And you still are." Carefully I reach up to touch his cheek, and his eyes are sad as they look at me. "When this is over, I'll take you home."

I stand there stunned as he steps forward so his body is touching mine and he stands taller than he did before, trembling as he takes my face in his hand, afraid, afraid of himself. He might not remember us, but he can't forget what his heart remembers, and that's just enough.

I cover his hand with my own, and promise him "You won't hurt me."

The past year I've spent every single fucking night wishing he was there with me, and every day with the insane hope that somehow he made it, whether as an old man or something else, just so I could touch him again. Knowing I'd die if it meant I could one last time.

And now I am ready to die, as long as he's free.

Our hands are both stained with blood, and slowly I turn my head to kiss the inside of his palm, my eyes never leaving his. If there's one thing we share, it's that love has made us mad.

I turn my head as Steve walks in the door and stops at the sight of us, and I know he's in just as much agony as I am, just as confused and hopeful and cautious. 

"It's time," he tells us and I look back at Bucky, giving him a reassuring nod as I reach for the tags in his hand and take them, putting them back around his neck.

"You're a soldier," I remind him. "And it's time to save the world."

Taglist

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hellodeanwinchestersass angelxbarnes that-lonely-fangirl sebstanfangirl @fangrlbaby @lovely-geek   @sebs-oxygen @sourvibez @jubsl8os  @buckys2thicc @pizza-connoisseurthings @xxforeverinadayxx @ocfairygodmother @whovianthatissherlocked  @nat-barnes @captainwinterfalcon @redemption-kylo @just-my-imagines @midnightvitality @winterrwidow-2   @peterbparkerth @whateverittakestoavenge @reelovesbuckybarnes

#bucky barnes #bucky #barnes #sergeant james barnes #james buchanan barnes #the winter soldier #winter soldier #fanfic #fanfiction #marvel #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x original female character #bucky barnes x oc #sebastian stan #thunderbolts #bucky barnes x reader #40's bucky #40's bucky fanfiction

[patrick-stewart]

I don’t know if I’m worth all this, Steve.

#bucky barnes #buckybarnesedit #marveledit #mcuedit #sebastian stan #sebstanedit #civil war #* #** #for bee #many thoughts head full of civil war bucky

[thefallenbibliophilequote]

What If?

Bucky x Reader

Summary: You think back on your relationship with Bucky, with questions of 'What if' surrounding you, four questions stood out to you, so you wonder- which one will come true?

Word count: 4,179

Warnings: melancholy angst, character death of sorts (not real deaths), some fluff, the winter soldier, mentions of violence, civil war Bucky, language, me referencing poems.

A/N: Civil War timeline with some modifications. Italics are daydreams. The question What If? Is my favourite question- it is so hopeful and yet so destructive. Besides the Taylor song, I also based this on the song 'What If?' From the musical If/Then

A/N2: this is based on the song The 1 by Taylor Swift for @captain-kelli Don't Call It A Comeback Tour challenge! When I signed up for it this entire story just came to my mind all at once and I could see it all from start to finish. However when I finally sat down with my outline to write it… something possessed it. I have mixed feelings about this but oh well, I hope you will like it! Thank you @lookiamtrying for beta reading this!

No one is allowed to repost my writing or steal or copy my work! Reblog on tumblr is fine.

Masterlist

--

It always came back to your head in flashes; he came back in glances at objects around your apartment, but he never came back to you- not in your reality. You remembered the last night you saw him next to you, you remembered his cold voice that you read so well past. You mostly remembered the look in his blue eyes- they were soft and sad, contrasting his tone just like how his words contrasted their true meaning.

You had found your little piece of heaven in this small apartment, Bucky found his peace with you. He was always cautious, ever since he pulled Steve out of the river and started to remember his old life he run away from hydra, using all of his training to disappear from both sides that were looking for him. And then he found you and everything changed. You didn't know who he was at first, but by the time he opened up and told you who he was he held a part of your heart. It took some time but by the time you earned his full trust you took space in his heart, and when you didn't run away after you found out about him- your place in his heart grew and he kept you there safe. Logically he knew he should never stay for too long, and he shouldn't stay with you, but you were the first friend he had in decades- you helped him through nightmares, and you gave him a diary to keep track of the memories that started to come back. So he risked everything, and took every precaution to make sure he could stay there with you and dissipate his past from his potential future with you. And slowly but surely your relationship together evolved. You were proud of every progress he made- when the nightmares became rare, when you had to buy him another notebook, when he talked to you about it and you saw him forgive himself for something that was not his choice- you were proud when he started smiling and touching you more freely even with his left arm. You were proud of him when he showed his emotions more and told you those three little words with a bright look in his eye that caused you to smile and reply those same three words.

Then he came home to you one night with a heavy look that you haven't seen in a long time- you remember it from the time you were only friends, when he came to your door after a nightmare, panicked, saying he should run away.

He didn't talk that night, but you felt him change again, you felt him being more reserved again, like the Bucky you first met.

Then he came home to you one night a week later with the same look but now you saw his eyes- they weren't cold, they were emotional.

"They found me." No they didn't.

"Bucky," he was never one to lie. "What are you saying?"

You left the mug you held on the counter and walked to him in the living room. When he didn't answer you went to sit on the couch, patting the spot next to you.

"Talk to me, please." Bucky went towards you but he bent down and you knew what he was about to do. He moved the rug away and pulled at the wooden floor until you could both see the hidden space there where he told you an emergency bag will be necessary. He pulled it out.

"I need to go, you can't come with me."

"No, Bucky look at me," you stood up in front of him, "you don't have to run away! I can come with you-"

"It's too dangerous! You can't date the Winter Soldier!" He finally said. You knew he was trying to scare you with his cold tone, but you didn't let him.

"And yet, I am still here! I am not going to leave you Bucky- no one found you, stay with me- please don't run away."

"Doll," his eyes always gave him away. "I need to go, they are close. I need to leave."

"Bucky," tears welled up in your eyes. "Will you-"

"I am not going to come back."

Yes, you remember that night well. You played it in your head over and over again. You remembered your tears, the slamming door, and mostly the quiet.

You felt it when you woke up alone again every day after that. You saw him on the TV a few weeks after he left you- he stood next to Captain America- at least he found Steve. You had a million things you wished you could have said, questions you wished to know. You never know, though, when it will all go away, but you know the greatest loves of all time are over now, they always end. But you could never let it go, he plagued your mind.

It was the constant question of: Would he have stayed for you? If things were different? If he didn't have an excuse to leave?

You knew the answer could kill you, but your mind couldn't help but wonder- What if?

•

What if he stayed?

"I'm not coming back." Bucky closed the door behind him, it slammed harder than he intended to. He took the time to rest against the door, gathering his thoughts as he softly whispered to the air-

"I love you."

You brought life to his grey world, you helped him find himself- is he scared more of hydra finding you, or of you? Everything good seemed to be taken from him, and you were the sunshine for him- the moonlight comfort of the midnight nightmares.

Bucky spent so long running, what if he just let himself have this- you? What if he didn't use his past as an excuse to run away from his possible future?

He didn't think further when he opened the door again and shut it behind him. His eyes were just as soft and glassy as yours, filled with unshed tears. He came to you and you got up from the couch- without missing a beat he pulled you to him, holding you tight.

"I'm sorry, doll, I love you, and I don't want to leave you."

"Then stay, please. We are safe." You held him tighter and let out a shaking breath when you realized he didn't walk away, he stayed for you.

"I'll stay." He promised you that night, both of you refused to let go.

It was a few months after that and Bucky passed a jewelry shop, he watched as couples inside looked at all the shiny items and picked a few to take to their home. You were his home.

When he came back to you, the house smelled like his favourite pie that you made. He wanted to stay forever here with you, you didn't have much, but you had enough to get by and it was everything he could wish for right now.

But at night he laid wide awake, his metal arm surrounding you securely, drawing senseless patterns on your skin as you slept.

He couldn't give you a future like all the other normal couples have, but he could try to do his best, you always told him that trying was enough.

Bucky went to the museum the next night, when the old guard fell asleep he snuck in and searched for his treasure- in the area that displayed his stuff from the 40s- he found it. His ma's engagement ring, it was silver with two blue stones on either side the small diamond- you will look so perfect wearing it.

He was walking home with a smile, hoping to be home before you wake up- he left you a note but he knew you would only worry.

On the way, he decided to purchase some plums and then he saw the newspaper- the assassination of King T'Chaka, blamed on the Winter Soldier. He knew he had to get home fast. The smile dropped from his face and he ran to you.

"Doll!" He yelled to you when he closed the apartment shut, he panicked when you didn't answer. Checking the windows were closed, he saw no sign of forced entry, so he moved to the bedroom you shared."Doll,"

You were still asleep peacefully in your bed, only opening your eyes when you heard him call you again.

"Good morning, Bucky." You smiled at him and went to pull him down for a kiss which he gladly returned, letting himself relax when he knew you were safe. "What are you doing all dressed up-"

You stopped when you saw his nervous eyes.

"What happened?" you sat up on the bed and held Bucky's hand as he told you about the news.

"But, they don't know where we are, so we will be fine… right?" you were trying to stay hopeful, you didn't want anything to get in the way of your happiness, but life finds a way.

"We can't be certain… doll I think we need to go."

"Go where?" you didn't want to leave this house, you shared so many moments here with him, "This is our home."

"You are my home, we can find a place for us wherever we go- but I have to keep you safe with me. So, we need to go."

You only nodded to him, solemnly getting out of bed and packing the essentials he told you to take.

Soon enough, you were ready to go, but he stopped you before you reached for the door handle.

"Wait," his throat suddenly went dry, but he had to do this- he had to do this here. "I just need to tell you something, before we go."

"What is it?"

"We shared so many memories here, you helped me find myself and never gave up on me. And then I fell in love with you and I was so happy when I first kissed you and you admitted to loving me as well- and you let me set the pace. You were always there for me, doll, and I always want you to be."

"Bucky, what are you-"

"My ma always told me to give this to someone special, someone who managed to see the real me, and I have no clue how you did it, doll, but you did." He got down on one knee, "So, I want to do my ma proud, do this properly."

And then he went down on one knee, and then you said yes.

You smiled, you would have been so happy, and he never would have gotten caught, not if he had you. You've only seen the ring before in pictures but… it would have been fun, if he would've been the one.

You really were something together, so you let your mind wonder again.

-

Little did you know that all that time ago, Bucky had wondered the exact same thing. What if he stayed?

Bucky burst through the door, shutting it behind him as he went to envelop you in his arms.

"I'm not leaving you, not ever." He held you tight- and he promised he won't let you go no matter what happened. He couldn't handle not being with you.

Months passed with you sleeping soundly next to him.

Another day started like any other- right before he heard the explosion coming from the living room, awakening both you and Bucky in freight.

"Bucky, what's happening?" You whispered to him as you saw him get up and grab the gun that was taped under the bed.

"Stay here, I'll keep you safe, they found me but I promise- I won't let them get to you." He told you, and then Bucky went, opening the door and seeing the Hydra agents that stormed his house- his home.

Bucky sprung to action and shot the ones that came near him, protecting himself from the bullets with his metal arm. As soon as he took care of the agents in his home, he heard voices coming up the stairs- he had to get you out of here.

"Doll, come on, we have to go." He urgently told you, seeing you were already dressed and took the emergency bag he kept under your bed- you always knew.

"Where to, Bucky?" your shaky voice didn't escape him as he escorted you through the bodies on the floor, but he didn't have time to comfort you right now- his only mission was to get you to safety. That was all he wished for. That was all he wished for when you went to the roof to look at the stars, when you passed by a fountain and he remembered his ma telling him to toss pennies in the pool and make a wish.

He helped you down the fire escape and held you tight as he jumped onto another roof. Then he simply told you to run as he seeked temporary cover to think of an exit for you. They were shooting at you now, and he ushered you in front of him, having his body as a shield for you.

He found a place behind a vent as soon as you gained some speed and put space between you and the Hydra agents.

"Bucky-" your soft voice called to him, bringing him back to you. He looked at you when you just looked at your stomach, where blood was now seeping through your shirt.

"No, no doll stay with me-" your eyes began to flutter as the dizziness took you. "We will fix it, you'll be okay- I'll fix it."

"Bucky- it's okay." Your hand caressed his cheek; you winced when he put pressure on the wound.

"No, it's not! I can't lose you doll, this is all my fault, please stay with me." You felt his tears on your hand, even when you felt things go dark, you didn't break his gaze.

"This isn't your fault, Bucky. I love you, please promise me you'll stay yourself- don't let them convince you you're anything but a good man."

"No, doll, stay- please." His voice broke. "I love you."

The lights went out in your eyes, and he felt all the light in his life go with you, he sobbed over you, not caring about the hydra agents getting close. No one will take you away from him. He didn't let you go, he couldn't handle being without you.

If only his wishes came true, it would've been you that was alive instead of him, and you would've been safe.

•

What if you had gone after him?

It took you months, but you knew you had to go after him and fight for the two of you. You finally found him- they had taken him to the Avengers facility like you saw on the news. He was captured with Captain America- his former friend, you hoped Steve was taking care of your Bucky.

He had to be safe now, right? From what you heard of Steve… he won't let anything happen to him- so you hoped that maybe you could tell him who you were to Bucky and they will let you see him.

You walked into the facility with your cover, standing idly in the corner of the room as you watched Bucky being locked in a cage. It hurt your heart and you wished you could walk up to Steve but he was with government officials- and those were never good.

Then everything went dark. You were freaking out like the rest of them when you heard a girl talking to Steve-

"Sublevel 5, east wing." She had said and you quickly exited from the room, hoping to get to Bucky. Remembering the schematics of the building you memorized, you rushed to him. Was it dangerous? Maybe. Did you care? Not even a bit.

You ran down the stairs when you heard a commotion.

You entered the floor to see Tony Stark aiming a weapon against Bucky. You've never seen him this way, as the Winter Soldier- but he was still your Bucky.

"No!" you shouted when a loud blast echoed in the room. Tony went to attack him and you stood there helpless, not knowing what to do. You knew in your heart that he will recognize you- he has to. He is your Bucky- he said he will never forget you.

Two girls went to attack him after he pushed Tony Stark away and you rushed forward, getting to him before the others, you grabbed his arm.

"Civilians aren't allowed here, get out of the way!" The Black Widow called to you, but you ignored her as Bucky turned to you. You couldn't see him in the Winter Soldier's eyes but you knew he was there. The Winter Soldier grabbed you by the throat with his metal arm and pinned you to the wall, but you tried to stop him.

"Bucky- Bucky it's me, please come back to me." You said to him and dared to reach out to hold his cheek. "Bucky I'm here, I know you can break out of this- you won't hurt me."

His hard eyes were now confused instead and he did nothing for a couple of moments before you knew you had him.

"Doll?" he whispered to you, before he pulled away from you, realizing what happened. You didn't let him get far.

"I'm here Bucky, you didn't hurt me." You took his flesh hand, shooting a daring glance at the two girls who stood there on edge. "Please don't hurt him."

You brought Bucky closer, seeing the hesitation in his eyes, you assured him.

"I've got you, you didn't hurt me. Bucky, let me keep you safe for once." You brought him closer and he sent a shaky look at the agents, eyes falling to their guns and weapons that stood ready. "Look at me."

He did, and your eyes brought him ever so closer until you could hug him properly. You held him closely, keeping a tight hold around his neck. His arms soon surrounded you, and you knew he had his eyes sharp and open, protecting you all the time, checking for potential threats.

"We need to go." He told you. You turned around when you heard footsteps approaching, and Natasha yelling at them to stand down.

"Buck?" You heard Steve's voice, but with the new people with guns, Bucky immediately pulled you back so he could stand in front of you to protect you.

"Why are you just standing there?" One of the government officials came into the room and ordered around. "Take him down!"

"No!" Both you and Steve yelled. You saw red- no one will hurt him again.

"Listen," you ignored Bucky who was adamant on keeping you behind him and you stepped forward, his hand was still on your waist. "He will do whatever it takes to keep me safe, whoever points a gun at me will be viewed as a threat that he will take out- so I suggest you move out of the room."

Steve looked puzzled between his friend and Natasha, who just shook her head at his silent question.

"Do you think I will leave a dangerous hydra asset- the Winter Soldier- alone by the hands of some girl?" Bucky's hand tightened around you.

"His name is James Bucky Barnes, not an asset- just a man." You spat out at him, "Only these five can stay- I think three avengers are more capable than you or your team to deal with this. So unless you want to lose your life because you insulted some girl- move out, now."

"Listen to the girl, Ross" Tony held his hands up and the other man walked out until it was only the two of you, Steve, Tony, Natasha, the blonde agent and Prince T'Challa. You looked at Bucky behind you before you looked at Steve.

"It's nice to finally meet you, Steve." He nodded to you, "I have heard a lot about you. And I hope you didn't change from who you used to be."

"And why is that?" Natasha spoke up.

"Because all I want is for Bucky to be safe. He hasn't been triggered in two years, not since the Triskelion. He did nothing wrong- he is just Bucky now." You interlaced your fingers with his and you felt him relax behind you.

"He killed my father." The king said and you shook your head.

"I didn't kill your father." Bucky said quietly.

"He was with me the entire time, at a different country too." You hoped they will listen to you.

"Ross will not be happy… but let's take my jet and get out of here. How does that sound?" Tony offered, "And then we can talk."

You looked back at Bucky and nodded, he smiled softly at you, and you knew you will be okay.

Yes, you would have been okay. If you were there you would have talked sense into everyone. He would have been okay if you went after him- you wouldn't have let anything happen to him. It played all out in your head like a film, but you knew the greatest films of all time were never made- all because of a single choice.

-

Little did you know, that when Bucky sat in his cell as the guy in front of him started reading the words- all he thought about was you. He was so glad you weren't there, he couldn't even imagine what would have happened if you had gone after him.

Bucky felt the words take over him, he shook his head trying to fight it.

"No."

But it was too late, and Bucky was stuck inside his own mind. He tried to fight him, but The Winter Soldier was in control.

It was all a blur to him, but then he saw you- he heard your voice, and suddenly all he could do was fight, trying to break free from all those years of torture just to save you- if only he could save you, he could forgive himself- he could fight.

He hoped you could still see him there, he heard you call out his name.

"Bucky- Bucky it's me, please come back to me." You said to him and dared to reach out to hold his cheek- he could feel you. "Bucky I'm here, I know you can break out of this- you won't hurt me."

He tried- he tried to break free for you and he almost did.

"Bucky-" he heard you call out to him and he was forced to watch as the spark in your eyes, that you reserved just for him, died out. He was caged- and you died because of him, because he wasn't strong enough.

Bucky tried to shake the mental image of your lifeless body from his head. He sat in that chair as the Winter Soldier took over him, you didn't know it but all he thought about back then was you and the only relief he had is that you weren't around for him to hurt.

•

But What if the story ends here?

You pulled yourself out of the memories you could have had and brought yourself back to the present, if only you had done something- anything. You looked around your apartment as you sat on the couch, your tea long forgotten. You rose up with a sigh, and you pondered how long were you going to wonder about the road not taken? He haunted all of your What Ifs. Four years ago you chose to let two blue eyes into your life- and that has made all the difference. Two years ago those blue eyes left your life- and that had changed everything.

You went to close the old bag you found, with the shiny object still in its box- you shut it and delicately put it in the bag and closed it.

You still mused over it though- if one thing had been different, would everything be different today? With each choice that you make you lose roads you won't get to take, with each coin that you toss you lose choices you won't get to make. You choose and then everything changes, and you know there is no turning back... so you wonder- What if?

If only your wishes came true, Bucky would have come back to you.

But timing is a funny thing.

You almost missed the knock on the door. Putting the mug on the table, you went to the door.

If your wishes came true, he would have chosen you.

You opened the door, coming face to face with a man you only saw on TV, with his hair now short, his left arm black and gold- so much changed but his eyes were still the same. He was still Bucky- was he still yours? You couldn't help but wonder…

"Bucky?"

"Hi, doll."

What if it began again?

•

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[sambvcks]

redefined, b.b. x reader

summary: just because those ten words no longer wreak havoc on his mind does not mean they are gone. just redefined.

warnings: mentions of food, blood, gunshot wound

word count: 3.7k....whoops

author’s note: first standalone! i’m also itching to work on a sam story next. the last episode still lives in my mind rent free and this is a reworking of that which diverges from civil war and we get one big happy avenging family that aren’t dead :)

[ read on ao3 | masterlist | inbox | join my taglist! ]

Longing

An Avenger.

The concept was still so foreign to Bucky, despite dozens of successful missions under his belt and a permanent residence in the tower. Still, every morning he sprung up in bed expecting to still be in some run-down apartment halfway across the world, on the run.

Instead, he would awake on a plush mattress that offered little back support. He would shuck on the first shirt his bleary eyes could see and pad into the hallway, the smell of fresh coffee overtaking his superhuman sense of smell. You would be perched at the kitchen counter, pouring over mission files stained with coffee rings that Tony would later complain about.

Steve and Sam would have already come through on their way to their morning run, the coffee pot running dangerously low. You’d already placed his favorite mug nearby, two packets of sugar emptied into the bottom. A routine.

Bucky didn’t think he’d ever have a routine again.

His hand would press against your shoulder in a familiar greeting as he passed, you’d grin up at him with sleepy eyes and a lazy smile before returning to your work. Your cereal sat forgotten beside you, the overly sweetened kid’s choice growing soggy.

It was a silent and comfortable interaction. Neither worked to fill the quiet or felt the need to. Even with Steve, there was always talking and planning and ‘what about this’. With you, it was so natural to just exist how he was in that moment. No excuses, no whispered apologies.

He pushed his back against the sink as he sipped at his coffee, eyes immediately settling on your distracted figure. Your pajamas were wrinkled, mouth formed into a perfect concentrated from as you hunched uncomfortably, hand scribbling furiously. He swallowed and decided you were the most beautiful person he had ever seen, especially with your coffee breath and fingernails chewed to nubs.

He wanted so desperately to move across the kitchen and press himself perfectly against you, to push aside your paperwork and demand your sole attention. His hand clenched into a fist as he longed to feel your soft, round cheeks in his hands, how warm you would feel against the cool metal of his left and how you’d nuzzle closer still.

He hadn’t heard the dragging footsteps of Steve and Sam returning from their run and didn’t even notice them until they were settled at the doorway, watching him watch you.

“Morning.” Steve grinned, all knowing. Bucky cleared his throat and refocused on his mug.

“Morning.” Bucky replied with a look that said ‘don’t say anything’.

Rusted

Bucky learned that if you weren’t cooped up in your room or camped out on the kitchen island, you were tucked away in Tony’s garage. On slow days where it seemed everyone was off in their own little world, Bucky would know to find you under the hood of one of Tony’s vintage cars, each kept in pristine condition, but you claimed that ‘there’s always something to work on’.

Bucky was never a car guy. His family was too poor to even think of ever owning his own car. He didn’t even have his own license and technically couldn’t legally ride his bike either. He found out quickly that being an Avenger meant the term legal could be bent a bit. So, he wasn’t a car guy. But the sight of you with streaks of grease across your face and your raggedy workshop clothes would have him buying one just to see you work on it.

You were notoriously protective of your little hideaway, the music loud and the sound of metal ringing as you fixed and fiddled with every little thing. Steve nearly got a wrench to the face when he tried to distract you from Tony’s antique Chevy.

Bucky was different, though. He was always different.

He would sit himself on a tall stool positioned next to one of Tony’s many rolling tool chests. You’d call out a tool and he’d rifle through the collection until he found what he thought was the right one and only slightly tease him when he’d emerge with the wrong one. Typically, you’d spend these afternoons in silence, the thumping of the heavy base of whatever crazy metal album you picked the only soundtrack to your work.

Sometimes, though, you’d play gentle rock music. Bucky would ask questions on what you were doing, how you learned to do all of this, why you did it when Tony worked on these cars enough for the both of you.

You’d fish your rag from your pocket, concentrating on scrubbing the grease from under your fingernails as you answered.

“I like using my hands. I like fixing things. For every car that Tony has in this garage, there are hundreds just like it sitting in junkyards gathering cobwebs and rust.” You looked up at him from under eyelashes and Bucky knew you were speaking about much more than just hunks of metal. “They’re worthy of love and care.”

You were talking about him, too.

Seventeen

Bucky didn’t think this superhero business would have so many parties. There seemed to be a celebration for everything. Galas, fundraisers, full on parades whenever Tony happened to wake up in a good mood.

At least this one is a holiday, he thought to himself as he nursed his third beer of the hour. Not that it did anything other than keep his hands occupied.

The year was coming to a close, and the top floor of the Avengers Tower was decked in golden confetti and banners to ensure no one forgot. The music was obnoxiously loud, and the lyrics made little sense, but everyone seemed to be having a good time mingling and even venturing to the dance floor.

No matter how many times Sam tried to drag him in with an invisible rope, Bucky was not going to dance. Well. Maybe he would if you asked.

The party had been in full swing for hours now, with only ten minutes until the ball a few blocks up finally dropped and he could sneak away to his room without a teasing ‘bedtime already, old timer?’ from Nat.

Still, the party raged on and he eyed the glass door to the balcony. He downed the last of his beer, brushing past enthusiastic partygoers with his shoulders hunched forward in some attempt to minimize the space he took up in the room that only seemed to be getting smaller. He caught Steve’s eye on the way out and plastered on a smile in response to his disappointed look.

He let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding as soon as the glass door slid closed behind him. His eyes closed as he leaned back against it, the chill of the December New York air blew his hair in every direction.

“Fancy meeting you here.” You were sat in the far corner, so well hidden he hadn’t even noticed you, though he had been on the lookout for you all night. “Tired of the festivities?”

“And Tony’s music.” He grumbled as he fell into the seat beside you.

“Been waiting for you for the past thirty minutes. Honestly, you made it a lot longer than I could’ve in there.”

You were waiting for him. You wanted him to be there, with you, tucked away from everyone else’s prying eyes. He wanted that, too. Sometimes he wanted it so much it scared him.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, doll. It’s not polite for a gentleman to make a girl wait.”

“Hmm, I think I’ll find it in myself to forgive you.” Your shoulder pressed against his, eyes focused on the smattering of buildings surrounding you. Identical parties were happening in each of them, you were sure. “Can you believe another year is gone?”

“I can’t believe I’m about to make it to 2017 and my back hasn’t given out yet.”

You laughed, loud and unabashedly in a way only Bucky could make you laugh. Head thrown back and eyes glittering from the city lights, Bucky wanted to spend every new year you would allow him to by your side, trying his best to make you laugh again.

“Well,” You stood to peer over the glass railing, Bucky close behind you. You could hear the drunken cries inside as the countdown begun. “I’m glad you did.”

“Me too.” Bucky offered his hand to you. You took it easily.

5, 4, 3…

He wanted nothing more than to pull you close, to finally press a kiss on the lips that had thrown teasing remarks at him during missions. To once and for all end this little dance you both loved so much. But you looked so perfect.

Bucky wasn’t ready to ruin that perfection with everything wrong with him quite yet.

“Happy 2017, Bucky.” You whispered as the fireworks started, but Bucky couldn’t pull his eyes from you.

“Happy 2017, doll.”

Daybreak

The mission had been long and grueling. The week-long stakeout turned into two and quickly turned into a month away. You can’t remember the last time you’d had a good night of sleep that wasn’t interrupted with Bucky’s hand on your shoulder, telling you it was your turn to keep watch.

It wasn’t a horrible mission, more of an exercise in patience and restraint than anything. Bucky’s stories kept you entertained enough, and he was a good partner. Which is why you were paired together more often than not.

Still, it was nice to finally collapse into your familiar bed, not even bothering to kick of shoes or take a much-needed shower. Your sleeping schedule was all out of whack and you tossed and turned, despite the exhaustion seeping through your bones.

After fifteen minutes, you finally huffed a sigh of defeat and stumbled back to your feet. You showered, which was a few good days overdue, and dressed in your largest, most comfortable pajamas.

You weren’t surprised to see Bucky up as well, sitting at the dining table with a mug of fresh coffee.

“Couldn’t sleep?” His foot kicked out the seat beside him as an invitation.

“Sleeps overrated, anyways.” You shrugged, slumping into the seat and pressing your face into the cool glass of the table.

“Sleep is good for you.” He insisted, reaching forward to brush aside the hair that had curtained over your face. “You deserve a good night’s rest.”

“So do you, Buck.”

He stayed silent for a while, just sipping at his coffee and stealing glances at you, face trained out the floor to ceiling windows. He really didn’t know what he deserved, anymore. Sure, he had made some semblance of peace with what the Winter Soldier had done with his body. He was better, that was certain.

Worthy of you and all your unwavering sweetness? He wasn’t so sure.

You idly chatted about nothing for hours, filling comfortable silence with talks of the mission and the food poisoning he had given you when he tried to make dinner two weeks in. You sat side by side until day broke the next morning, eyes squinting at the sun peeking over skyscrapers and finally finding the need to fall shut in rest.

“I guess I should say ‘good morning’ instead of ‘good night’.” You were the first to stand, shuffling towards the hallway that led to your bedroom.

“Good morning.” He answered as you padded away, deciding he would be just fine losing sleep every night if it meant he could watch the sunrise by your side.

Furnace

“Doesn’t Tony make enough money to keep this place at least habitable?” You grumbled as you fell into the couch beside Bucky.

“I’m fine.”

Bucky sat in his patent jeans and t-shirt, unphased by the temperature that practically had your teeth chattering. You were bundled in multiple layers, including one of the many sweatshirts he’d wear jogging on cold mornings and blankets you had stolen off his bed. Your glare from under your cocoon of warmth rivaled even his.

“I’m not a muscle-y super soldier-”

“You think I’m muscle-y?”

“-that runs so hot you’re basically a personal furnace.”

“Oh, so now I’m hot.”

“I would strangle you to death right now, but I’m about to lose my fingers to hypothermia.” You burrowed further into your smattering of blankets with a violent chill running down your spine. Bucky simply rolled his eyes and marked the spot in the book he had been reading before you stormed in.

“C’mere.”

He balled up a fistful of one of your blankets, tugging you even closer to him. You opened your arms to allow for direct contact, sighing contently as your face pressed into his shoulder and legs tangled with his. You sighed contently as you welcomed his warmth, shimmying as close as you could get.

“Better?”

“The best.”

Nine

“Do you ever think what your life would be like? If you’d gotten to go home?”

Even a year ago, this question would have turned Bucky into a brooding mess. He would have delved into every little moment he had missed, every plan that had been turned upside down when he fell from that train all those years ago. But he was better now, more contemplative. He wouldn’t drown in the idea of what could have been because he knows what it’s like to be on the other side.

“I like to think I would’ve gone to college.”

“Really?”

“You calling me dumb, doll?”

“No! You’re the smartest person I know. I’m just picturing you at college. Carrying textbooks and wooing all the dames.” You fell into him at the thought, a fake swoon overtaking your face.

“I’d be too busy studying for dames.”

“Studying what?”

“I always liked math. Maybe engineering or something. Wanted to be a teacher before the draft.” He shrugged like the information was no big deal, but to you it was everything.

“Professor Barnes. Kind of sexy.”

“Oh, shut up.” But his words held no malice. Instead, he was grinning that cheeky grin that pulled his cheeks into perfect rosy apples and his eyes crinkled in joy. “I wanted to have ten kids.”

“Ten?!”

“So we’d be a dozen. My own little army of mini-Buckys to take over the world. Couple sets of twins, maybe. Definitely as many girls as I could manage.”

Of course Bucky would be a girl-dad. Playing dress-up for fake tea parties and scaring off boys when they’d come ‘round for first dates. You could imagine how he’d learn how to take care of their hair and plait intricate braids when they asked. He would make breakfast for the whole bunch, kiss his wife goodbye before escorting them to the bus stop and taking off for a day of teaching classes. Bucky would be an amazing father.

An amazing husband, too.

“I think ten may be pushing it, Barnes.”

Bucky pictured it, too. A little more modern than maybe the image you conjured up. Teaching was replaced with small missions. The gaggle of kids were smaller, and he wouldn’t have to kiss his wife goodbye. You’d be in the car next to him, headed to the tower for your morning briefings together.

“I’ll settle for nine.”

Benign

If you were to ask any New Yorker what they think the Avengers do on Friday afternoons, they would probably say something like ‘kicking ass!’. None would get even close to what your actual routine looked like.

None would imagine The Winter Soldier lounging in a bathrobe, hair knotted into a bun at the top of his head as his fellow world-saving Avenger spread some green goop over his face. Chinese takeout boxes littered the living room coffee table, his feet were bubbling in warm foot spa.

“To keep your youthful complexion!” You had promised him. He didn’t comment on the obvious sound of your phone’s camera clicking.

He knew he must have looked completely ridiculous. But as you sunk into the couch next to him with identical spa treatments covering you, he couldn’t find it in himself to really care.

He never thought in a million years that he would have the chance of boring, completely benign afternoons. He thought he would be sidelined to violent missions for the rest of his life, to being thawed out like a microwave meal every time he was deemed useful. Sure, he felt a bit ridiculous when you reached over to adjust the slices of cucumber placed over his eyelids, but he also felt so relaxed.

As you settled even closer to him, head tilting to rest on his shoulder, he would happily take the teasing remarks from Sam when you showed him the pictures.

Homecoming

Peter wasn’t crazy about the idea of getting ready for his senior year homecoming dance at the tower. But Aunt May was upstate on vacation with Happy and he still didn’t know how to tie a tie.

“Oh, you look so handsome, Peter!” You gushed as your fingers worked on his tie. Bucky stood to the side, holding MJ’s corsage in a delicate plastic container. Peter had been careful to find the perfect color, with a little guidance from you. The white dahlias matched perfectly with Peter’s light green tie.

“Thanks, Ms. (Y/L/N).”

Peter, ever the polite kid.

“Be safe, kid. Have her home at a reasonable time and no wandering hands.” Bucky handed over the corsage with a supportive slap to Peter’s shoulder. He was quick to promise that he would follow all the rules before making a dash to the door, just as you were about to ask for pictures.

“Don’t wait up!” He called as the elevator dinged behind him.

“They grow up so fast.” You sniffled. “I didn’t even go to my homecoming dances.”

“Why not?”

“Nobody ever asked me.” You shrugged, collecting the other ties Peter had picked from and hanging them carefully over your arm. Tony didn’t have to know that Peter was taking one of his priceless Versace neckties to a homecoming dance.

“To be fair, I would’ve been scared shitless to ask you to a dance.” Bucky followed close behind. “And I fought a war.”

“That’s sweet, Buck.” You brushed him off as you retreated into Tony’s closet.

“No, really.” His hand caught your elbow. “I would’ve been the luckiest guy in town if I had you on my arm.”

You fell asleep that night imagining you and Bucky twirling around a dance hall without a care in the world.

One

Steve’s hand was firm against your shoulder, his tactical glove soaked and dripping with your blood. Your eyes were unfocused, head lulling every so often when the fight to keep it steady just seemed too difficult. Sam was at your other side, cracking jokes to try to keep your attention on him and not of the literal bullet lodged in your shoulder.

You were escorted from the jet in a flurry, doctor’s hands replacing Steve’s. You barely winced when you were administered painkillers and the ache begun to subside. Before you could blink, you were lifted onto a gurney in the medical bay and the clink of the bullet that had been dug from your flesh rang through the room as it clattered into a metal dish.

Bucky ran in just as the doctor finished maneuvering a long roll of gaze around your shoulder, scheduling a time for you to return to have it cleaned and reapplied again.

“What happened?” He brushed past the doctor without a second glance, eyes trained on your figure pressed against the sterile hospital bed. “Steve said-”

“It’s nothing. Steve likes to be dramatic.”

“-that you were shot!”

“Oh, well. Yeah, that happened.” You moved to sit up, your arm immediately giving out under the weight. Bucky moved even closer to help you, hand careful on your back like you were made of glass. “But just the one time.”

“As far as I’m concerned, one is too many.” He watched the gauze turn darker against your skin; your eyes screwed shut in pain as your knuckles turned white against the sheets. “And you’re never going on a mission without me again.”

Freight Car

“You’re free.”

He remembers those worlds so clearly, it’s like him and Ayo are still sat next to that crackling fire in Wakanda. He thought that had been it. He would never again worry about those ten phrases that erased Bucky Barnes and allowed a machine to emerge from his memory.

As he stole glances of you from the corner of his eye, shadowed by his unruly hair, he knew those words still very much existed in his mind.

They weren’t a means to an end, anymore. He didn’t have to grit his teeth and clench his fists to fight them off. They were new, now. He saw each of those words in you and realized just how important they are now they they’ve found a new meaning.

His love for you came easy.

One second, he was looking at his friend. She was looking back at him and he felt safe.

Your fingers brushed over his shoulder, where flesh turned to metal, and you looked away as though you hadn’t just made him fall in love with you with a single touch.

It took three years for Bucky to make a move. Another party, another escape plan to the balcony where you were waiting for him, like always. The last time you had found yourselves in that position, he had been too unsure. Too wary of what it would mean and if it was too soon.

Now, he didn’t care. He just wanted you and to be selfish and not think about consequences when he leaned forward and finally pressed his lips to yours.

You pulled back, but not far.

Something clicked.

Your love for him hit you like a freight car. Swooping in from nowhere but really, you should have felt the rattling of the tracks beneath your feet. You should have seen all the signs that you loved him and he loved you back. In stolen glances and easy afternoons, in hard missions and bloodshed. He was there, and he looked at you like that. Like everything his body had done was to finally make it to you in this moment.

He waited, patient. He had waited this long, what was another few seconds as the realization washed over your features?

“Oh.” Was your clever whisper.

“Yeah.” Bucky’s hands cradled your face, “Took you long enough.”

taglist: @bibliophilewednesday @teti-menchon0604​ @thiswasnevermylifefromtony​ @spid3rgwen​ @beautyandthebleh​ @victoriabaker112213​ @orthellqs @phasma-trash​

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes/you #bucky barnes/reader #marvel imagine #tfatws imagine #sab writes

[awesomerextyphoon]

Don’t Tell Me

This is for @cockslut-padalecki​’s Not My Ninth Challenge. My prompt was Stucky x Reader with Royal Au and No Doubt’s Don’t Speak for the lyrics.

Summary: You loved them with all your heart, but now you must wed another.

Pairing: Stucky x Black Female Reader, Brock Rumlow x Black Female Reader

Word Count: 1,893

Rating: 18+ / Explicit

Warning: Angst, Implied Smut, Threesome, Mild Depictions of Violence, and Forced Marriage

A/N: This might be my saddest fic yet. I hope this isn’t too much of a downer for you, @cockslut-padalecki​. Happy Birthday and Congratulations on 9K followers!

Dividers are by the lovely @firefly-graphics​

Back to Masterlist

“Rise and shine, Your Highness! Today’s the big day!” Sabine, your closest handmaiden, announced.

You covered your head with your pillow in irritation, “I don’t want to!”

Sabine sighed, “You have to get up or the guards will come and force you out of bed.”

With an annoyed huff, you got up and stretched, “Let’s get this over with, Sabine.”

You had been dreading this day for weeks. Today was the day you were to wed Brock Rumlow, ruler of the Triskelion Empire. You didn’t want to marry him. He was boorish, cruel, and violent.

But most of all, you didn’t want to marry Brock because your heart belonged to Steve Rogers and James “Bucky” Barnes.

  It started when you were six years old. You were sent to Brooklynd to be King Joseph’s ward as part of a peace initiative (you later found out it was because of a failed coup and your mother wanted you safe).

King Joseph, Queen Sarah, and the court loved you. Only Prince Steven and his best friend, James Barnes Duke of Shelby, gave you the cold shoulder.

It sucked because they were the only ones near your age. You tried to win them over with baked goods from your homeland, trinkets and toys Queen Sarah said that Steven would love, and some of your favorite books. Nothing worked until you had enough and confronted them.

Steven was about to enter the stables with James when you caught them. You just wanted to ask why they were avoiding you, but as your mother warned you got violent and socked James with a left hook. It got to the point that the guards had to split up the three of you.

Queen Sarah had an unusual and embarrassing punishment: the three of you had to sit in a circle and hold hands for one hour under the stern eye of the governess and the queen herself. The air was thick with tension until the governess farted. You tried your hardest not to laugh, but you help yourself. Soon Steven and James joined in the merriment.

You were best friends ever since.

 “What do you want for your bath, Your Highness?”

“May I have the Rose, Hibiscus, Black Pepper, Lemongrass oils for the bath, and the Amla/Coconut Oil mixture for my hair, please. Thank you, Ngozi.”

“As you wish, Your Highness.”

Once the oils were applied to the bath, you sunk in sighing from the nearly scalding water; its warmth giving you a peace of mind that has been denied to you for weeks.

You wondered how it got to this, then you frowned at the bitter memories symbolized by the single piece of jewelry under your pillow.

  The three of you became thick as thieves. Always helping each other in defending one another whether it be fighting off Steve’s bullies with Bucky or telling the snobby rich girls to stuff it whenever they said you weren’t feminine enough.

Joke’s on them because you passed all of your etiquette classes with flying colors.

Though something happened when you turned thirteen; you started seeing your best friends in a new light. You noticed how Bucky’s shoulders were broadening, Steven’s full bottom lip, the dazzling blues in their eyes, or how their laughs.

Sabine, your closest handmaiden, and friend, confirmed it; you were falling in love with them.

You were scared at first; you didn’t want to ruin your friendship with them. So you started avoiding them by spending time with Duchess Natalia and Marchioness Monica as they were the only female peers you could stand.

You would sneak glances at them when you thought they weren’t looking, but they were.

It went on like that for a year until Bucky had enough and confessed to liking you. You were relieved that he returned your affections, but was taken aback when Steven grabbed Bucky’s hand and pulled him in for a kiss. Turns out they’ve been a secret item for six months.

They both loved you and wanted to make it work.

And it did, for a time. You spent a great deal of time together. Though they were a few close calls since your mother instructed Queen Sarah not to let you court anyone and Steven and Bucky couldn’t go public just yet.

It didn’t matter; you just wanted to be near them. The three of you would sneak kisses by moonlight, write secret love letters, all the fun, and mushy stuff. Your relationship reached a new level when Steve and Bucky presented you with a vibranium and dragon’s gold alloy promise ring with ruby rose and emerald leaves. The three of you vowed to be together forever.

It was pure bliss; you didn’t want it to end.

  “Life had other plans, huh?” you muttered to yourself as your handmaidens were making the final body preparations before you got into your gown.

  Your mother, Queen Ketandu, had written to you and Queen Sarah requesting that you return to Abia in order to complete your studies and take on royal duties. You cried in Bucky’s arms for hours before he had to return to his quarters the morning before your departure.

It wasn’t long before puberty hit you like an airship going at full speed (late bloomer). You became famed for your beauty with scores of suitors, but you rejected them all. Only Bucky and Steve would have your hand.

One of the suitors, Brock Rumlow of Triskelion took it especially hard. He vowed he would have your hand, but your cousin, Samuel Wilson, said to pay him no mind.

You were only able to communicate with Steve and Bucky via phone or letters. It took you four years to return to Brooklynd, but it was not a joyous occasion. King Joseph had passed and Steven was to be crowned king within the fortnight.

Both of them had changed so much, especially Steve; he was nearly unrecognizable. He towered over nearly everyone (only Bucky, Thor, Loki, and M’Baku were taller), broad shoulders, rich tawny pink skin, and a face that could make nearly all the women (and some men) swoon.

He looked like the kings of old, even more so than his father.

Bucky wasn’t slacking either with the way many of the courtiers were ogling him; admiring him for his rugged, yet prim presence.

They were Rulers of Paradise and you were to be their queen.

The three of you finally made love that night. It was your first time, so they decided to be gentle and showered you with kisses and affection. Steve and Bucky worshipped your body as if it was the last thing they would enjoy before the afterlife.

It was as though you were dreaming.

  “Here’s your wedding gown, Your Highness.” Zara, another handmaiden, exclaimed.

“Thank you, Zara.” You tried your best to not let the tears fall. This day was never supposed to happen.

Why did your dream have to die like this?!

  The first crack in your fantasy came with the news of your older brother’s assassination and the outbreak of a civil war. Your sister-in-law begged you to come home.

Your airship was to leave first thing in the morning.

You raced to inform your lovers of your departure. One of the servants said that they saw Steve in his mother’s rose garden. Thinking it was Steve being shy and needing some rest, you ventured into the garden only for fantasy and your heart shatter completely.

In the rose garden under the central archway was Steve on one knee proposing to Margaret ‘Peggy’ Carter with Bucky looking on with a smile and the full moon behind them.

Everything froze at that moment.

Why?! Why did they do this?! Were your feelings a joke to them? Did they ever love you?

Unable to hold back your despair, you shrieked at the ideal romantic scene before you.

Steve tried to explain the situation and Bucky almost caught you, but you ran away before you could hear them.

You left for Abia that night.

  “Now ladies,” Lady Bente, the wedding planner bellowed, “remember, this is Emperor Rumlow’s big day. There’s no room for failure.” She didn’t need to say what would happen if you tried anything ‘funny’.

“I know. How can I forget the threats?” grumbled as Sabine put the final touches on your wedding outfit: an off-the-shoulder A-Line Tulle Wedding Dress, a Hand-crafted white gold Baroque tiara inlaid with pale sapphires, diamonds, and pearls, and matching earring and necklace.

Looking in the mirror, you almost didn’t recognize yourself. The dress accentuated your curves and the jewels made your face glow. You were a vision.

Too bad it was for a man who wouldn’t hesitate to destroy everything you hold dear.

  Barely six months after you returned from Brooklynd, Abia conquered by the Triskelion Empire. Their ambassador informed the council that the empire will let Abia continue as a client state if you married their emperor, Brock Rumlow.

If not, Triskelion would raze Abia to the ground and take her citizens as slaves.

The council implored you as Triskelion forces had Sam captive and Abia’s army was running out of supplies.

With a heavy and broken heart, you accepted Rumlow’s terms.

The wedding was to be in a month.

  You took one last look at yourself in the mirror, “Too bad Rumlow isn’t getting a virgin.”

“Goodbye, Your Highness.” Sabine whispered, “Now, don’t you start crying after all the work I put into ya!”

“I know it’s just not fair. I have to lose you, too?” Rumlow made it clear that you were to leave your old world behind, including your closest friend and confidant.

Sabine pulled you in for a hug, “I know it’s not. It’s been a pleasure and delight being your handmaiden and friend.”

“Alright, everyone! Line up! The wedding is about to begin!” Lady Bente ordered.

You gave your friend one last glance before the doors shut behind you, “Goodbye Sabine.”

  The cathedral was spectacular.

Bouquets of roses and elven tulips adorned the pillars. The banners of Abian and Triskelion colors were delicately placed creating an ethereal atmosphere.

Rumlow really outdid himself.

Dignitaries from far and wide were in attendance. You saw your mother, uncle, Sam, and your sister holding her ten-month-old son.

Rumlow took your hand with a triumphant smirk. You could say that he was handsome if you didn’t want to claw his eyes out.

“You look ravishing, darling.”

“I hate you.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Dearly beloved and exalted rulers, we are gathered here today to join the Triskelion Emperor and the Second Princess of Abia in holy matrimony.”

You closed your eyes in resignation. No one was coming. Maybe Brock wouldn’t be so bad.

“If anyone has any reason as to why these two should not be married.”

Then you remembered how he threatened your mother and uncle when after Abia surrendered. His twisted smirk was enough to make your blood boil.

“Speak now or forever hold your peace.”

The cathedral was silent for a few minutes until the doors were blown off their hinges and several guards were flung to the opposite wall behind the altar.

Everyone turned to find smoke and debris. An inhuman roar filled the venue terrifying the guests.

Two figures emerged from the smoke and your eyes widened in shock.

“We do.”

#stucky #stucky x reader #stucky x black!reader #brock rumlow x reader #mcu imagine #steve rogers imagine #bucky barnes imagine #brock rumlow imagine #brock rumlow x black!reader #mcu angst #steve rogers x reader #king!steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x black!reader #bucky barnes x black!reader #steve angst #bucky angst #mcu fanfiction #marvel au #royal au #forced marriage

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

Love Cuts Deep

Chapter 5- It’s All Good, Mostly

Bucky Barnes x (f)reader Series Rewrite (Civil War, Infinity War/Endgame, TFATWS)

Summary : After dealing with the Winter Soldier and getting your shit rocked. You, Sam, and Steve with an unconscious Bucky, are deciding on what to do next.

Warning: angst, fluffy moments shoved in here

Masterlist

After making a hasty escape to an abandoned dying old warehouse in Berlin, you helped Steve pin Bucky’s metal arm to a steel compressor in hopes that once he woke up, he’d be your Bucky again.

Who knows how deep Hydra’s talons are pierced into him?

Listening to the dull roaring of a search helicopter in the near distance, you lean against the wide garage doorframe separating the room Bucky’s in from the rest of the cavernous steel warehouse. A deep frown staining your features as you study his sleeping form that’s slumped over a wooden box while his body leans against the steel contraption.

The man who joined your little chaotic trio stands on guard a couple feet behind you as Steve keeps watch over by the buildings entrance that’s decently close to the rest of you. So far you’ve all been here for about forty minutes by now, keeping to yourself as you protectively watch over Bucky while he dries from his dip in the river with Steve and that broken helicopter.

“You’re Y/N, right?” Inquirers Sam from behind you; blinking tiredly, you slowly turn around while keeping your back leaned against the wall of the large doorframe.

Arms folded and appearing less then enthusiastic, you nod in acknowledgment, “That’s me.”

Revealing a friendly smile, he looks at the ground before meeting your stoic gaze, “Been a rough couple of days, huh.” Muses Sam in an attempt at lightening up the mood.

“Been a rough couple of decades.” You bluntly retort back before closing your eyes and leaning your weary head against the wall.

Sam mouths a silent “oh, right” before folding his arms together and clearing his throat, apparently he’s not done, “So, uh...I’m not trying to be weird or anything, but uh....last time I saw you. You were laying on the ground dead, blood trailing out from your head....unless my eyes are playing with me.” Explains Sam before letting out a nervous chuckle, “Or you’re actually a ghost.”

Opening your eyes, you shift your gaze over to Sam, “I was, yes.....well, technically I wasn’t actually dead, my heartbeat just slows dramatically while my body heals together again. ” He stops smiling as you shrug, “Regeneration. I can heal quickly.”

Mouth forming a surprised O, he nods, “Damn. Aren’t you just full of surprises.” Jokes Sam as you crack the tiniest of amused smiles.

“Keeps me moving.”

For a few moments you get uninterrupted peace before he decides to start up another conversation, much to your already agitated state. Though this time his voice is more serious as he takes a step closer to your side, “He must mean an awful lot to you if you’re willing to follow him this far.”

Returning your somber gaze back onto Bucky, you sigh, “I knew him when I worked for Hydra, he was my partner for many missions over the decades.” Sam’s dark eyes flash over to you in curiosity as you continue, “After the fall of Hydra, I searched for him for a little while. Clearly my efforts were not in vain. And now, after all this time.....I can admit freely that I love him.”

Sam’s brows raise in surprise at this spout of news, he had no idea you and Bucky were anything like that, “Huh.....well uh, sorry all this happened to you two.”

You shrug while throwing him a friendly half smile, eyes softening as you look at Bucky, “As long as he’s alive and I keep my freedom. I don’t care what happens. I’m done with the people of this world, we’re both done with them.”

“The worlds not done with you two just yet.” Adds Sam with a concerned fatherly tone.

You sigh, “So it would seem.”

A moment later Bucky stirs, his head bobs slowly upward as he takes in a deep breath, blue eyes opening before turning left to look at the steel contraption holding his arm in place; Sam yells for Steve as you walk closer to Bucky.

Quickly, Steve and Sam arrive right after you, your brows furrow in anxious concern as Bucky keeps tiredly slumped over while seated on the smallish wooden crate. His eyes find yours as he looks to the ground again before muttering a raspy, “Y/N.” Causing a spark of hope to ignite inside your heart.

Steve stands to your left, suspiciously eyeing up his old friend, “Which Bucky are we talking to?”

Bucky blinks in thought for a short moment before an adorable smile tugs at the corners of his plush lips, “You’re moms name was Sarah.” He pauses for another small second as a larger smile reveals itself freely now, “You used to wear newspapers in your shoes.”

Listening to your lover genuinely chuckle at a fond memory from so long ago fills your soul with happiness. Steve shares a relieved glance with you, gaze quickly returning back to Bucky, “Can’t read that in a museum.” You quip with a smile.

“Just like that, we’re supposed to be cool?” Doubts Sam, still a bit unconvinced and full of cautious reluctance from the wild beat down him, you, and Steve endured to get Bucky here safely and in one piece.

Pursing his lips together, Bucky’s shadowed eyes search for yours, “What did I do?” He hesitantly mutters, greatly dreading that answer.

“Enough.” Quickly answers Steve.

Bucky shuts his eyes tight before lowering his head in shame, “Oh, God, I knew this would happen.” Mumbles your lover as his head comes back up to meet the three of you, “Everything Hydra put inside me is still there. All he had to do was say the goddamn words.”

Biting your lip anxiously, you dread what he might ask you soon enough, then just as expected he does just that; eyes finding yours, Bucky’s face reveals a deep frown, “Y/N. How did we get out.”

Suddenly you feel rather small as the three men turn curious yet wary glances in your direction; Sam knows and Steve have an assumption, but Bucky doesn’t know the gory details. Shifting uncomfortably, you train your eyes on the floor, “Not important.”

Looking like he’s about to protest for an answer, Steve suddenly speaks up to break the tension, “Who was he?” Referring to the man who caused all of this.

“I don’t know.”

“People are dead. The bombing, the setup....the doctor did all that just to get 10 minutes with you. I need you to do better than “I don’t know”. Presses Steve as Bucky’s face shifts into concentrated thought.

“He wanted to know about Siberia. Where I was kept. He wanted to know exactly where.” Explains Bucky as his eyes flash over to yours, it wasn’t just him they kept locked away under the ice.

Steve’s brows furrow in puzzlement, “Why would he need to know that?”

Hugging your sides, you hum, giving Steve a dreadful knowing look, “Because he’s not the only Winter Soldier.”

——

Leaning on the white, paint chipped wall to Bucky’s right, he sits on the wooden box with his hands laced together. Steve against the wall in front of him, arms crossed and a hard expression adorning his dirt smudged features, “Who were they?”

“They’re most elite death squad. More kills second to only one in all of Hydra’s history.” Admits Bucky with an unenthusiastic sigh, “And that was before the serum.”

“Who was the first?” Asks Steve.

“Me.” You begrudgingly mutter as the three boys look over to you, all expressing various shades of interest, pity, fear, and amazement. Yeah you’re not proud about it either.

Noticing the building awkwardness, and how your eyes stare daggers at the dirty floor, Sam joins the conversation, “They all turn out like you?” Eyes set on Bucky.

Sighing, Bucky looks at nothing particularly interesting to his left, “Worse.”

“The doctor, could he control them?” Wonders Steve.

Eyes shifting back down to the floor, Bucky mutters, “Enough.”

“Said he wanted to see an empire fall.” Says Steve, reciting the doctors words as he tries to think up why.

“With these guys he could do it.” You add after a brief moment, “They speak thirty languages, can hide in plain sight....infiltrated, assassinate, destabilize. They could take a whole country down in one night, you’d never see them coming.”

Bucky nods in silent agreement as Steve weighs the options while Sam wanders over to his side, “This would have been a lot easier a week ago.” He whispers, though you can still hear them anyway.

“If we call Tony...” Quietly suggests Steve.

“No he won’t believe us.”

“Even if he did...”

“Who knows if the Accords would let him help.” Finishes Sam.

The two men stand silently for a moment, thinking hard about the right course of action as their brows furrow thoughtfully before Steve whispers a half defeated, “We’re on our own.”

Sam then gives him a positive look, “Maybe not.” As Steve sends him a doubtful glance while Sam simply smirks with a knowing tilt of his head, “I know a guy.”

——

Standing in an old run down junk yard on the far outskirts of Berlin, your back pressed against an old milk truck as Steve and Sam search for a useable car that can hold two super soldiers, an ex military pilot, and a grumpy sixty two year old assassin.

Bucky wanders away from their bickering and slowly walks over to you as your gaze stays firmly trained onto the gravelly earth below. Soon enough his dark shoes are blocking your staring contest with the ground, “Y/N please talk to me.” Pleads Bucky as you gingerly raise your gaze to meet his soft one, “Tell me what’s wrong. Please? I know that look, something happened while I was him didn’t it?”

Biting your lower lip anxiously, you breath a heavy sigh before weakly shrugging, “I don’t wanna talk about it. You’re not exactly gonna like it.”

Understanding the warning and how noticeably uncomfortable you are, Bucky frowns, though he reaches his hands to gently touch your tense shoulders anyway, “It doesn’t matter. We tell each other everything, promise?”

Staring into his soft gaze with the tiniest bit of hope, you reluctantly nod as he trails his hands down your arms to gently grasp your shaking fingers with his, huh, you didn’t even notice you were shaking. You swallow thickly before giving his hands a reassuring squeeze, “When the doctor got into your head....no matter how much I screamed and begged him to stop, or you to snap out of it. Nothing worked. You broke out of the glass cage and then I broke out of mine, then uh..” You pause a moment, swallowing nervously before whispering, “...the doctor ordered you to kill me.”

Bucky’s eyes immediately sadden as you share a weak smile before continuing on, “I couldn’t kill you. Even though I had the chance to....I couldn’t. But the Winter Soldier wouldn’t stop unless I did. So I let him think you killed me.” You watch as his lip quivers, heart thudding rapidly in his chest as he looks down at the earth in shame and regret. So much hate for what he had done even if he doesn’t remember anything.

Witnessing him deal with this heavy news breaks your heart in two, ripping your hands from his, he’s instantly caught in a huge bear hug from you. Quickly his strong arms wrap protectively around your waist as he pulls you into his chest, “I’m so sorry Y/N. I’m so so sorry.” Mumbles Bucky against your shoulder as he buries his face in your neck.

“It was the only way. You would have done the same if you were in my shoes. No hard feelings okay Buck, I love you and that’s all that matters.”

Suddenly he pulls away from your neck to gaze lovingly into your dreary yet beautiful eyes, raspy voice above a whisper, “You love me?” He asks in astonishment, a small smile tugging at the corners of his kissable pink lips.

Breaking out into a beaming grin, you slowly nod, “Of course I do. Guess I should have told you before all this shit happened.....didn’t find the time.”

Chuckling, Bucky presses his forehead flush with yours, “Y/N, I love you so fucking much.” Reveals your lover before swiftly pulling you in for a heated embrace.

His lips move masterfully against your own in the bright mid sun of the day, bringing a sense of great joy and warmth bursting into your chest as he kisses you with the love of a thousand beautiful moons in the starry night sky. But all too soon are you interrupted by the sudden whistle from Sam as he steals away this brief affectionate moment.

Breaking from the kiss, you and Bucky turn to face the irritating man as he smiles a bright satisfied grin, “Come on you two love birds, we found a keeper out back!” Before beckoning you both over with an enthusiastically dramatic wave of his hands.

Holding tightly onto Bucky, you practically growl, “I’m gonna break his arm.”

Quickly turning to face you he hums, “We’re wanted criminals remember, no breaking anyone. Got it.” Snickers Bucky cheekily as you lightly peck his cheek.

“What’s another thing added to the list?” You muse before letting him go and walking towards wherever Steve and Sam are, Bucky following close behind.

——

Seated to Bucky’s immediate left, shoulders smooshed against each other, you make a face as Steve and the blonde woman Sharon, get out of their respective vehicles. Eyes flickering over to Sam, who’s conveniently seated in the passenger seat, you frown in annoyance, “You’d think we could have gotten a bigger car.”

“It’s all they had.” Replies Sam with the ghost of a humored smile as he watches the two blondes stand beside one another while Sharon pops open the trunk to reveal his suit and Steve’s shield.

“I could have just stolen a bigger car.” You mutter to yourself as Bucky stifles a laugh.

More long moments go by, causing you to shift uncomfortably as you hopelessly try to find a suitable position in the cramped ugly old blue buggy. Noticing your discomfort and his own for that matter, Bucky stares at the back of Sam’s head, “Can you move your seat up?”

“No.” Deadpans Sam while you throw him a glare through the side mirror. Huffing in irritation, you shuffle closer to the left door as Bucky shifts a bit for some more leg room; Sam no doubt absolutely loving this.

Rolling your eyes, the three of you continue watching Steve and Sharon talk about whatever happens to be important at the moment, soon they stop and give each other an unsure look before Steve randomly pulls her in for a smooch. Your brows immediately raise in surprise while Sam and Bucky give him proud brotherly smiles when he looks back at the buggy. Face falling in slight embarrassment for being caught.

Soon after he drives the three of you to some airport parking garage, the ride goes decently smooth with the exception of being practically squashed between the car door and Bucky’s beefy ass. Rolling past a white van, Steve parks the little buggy about two parking spaces away before everyone files out.

You watch as he walks over to greet a man as a brunette woman accompanies his left side; your eyes travel cautiously between the two as you seat yourself on the edge of the buggy’s roof while Bucky leans his elbows against the top near your one hand placed there for support.

Soon the first man opens up the sliding van door to reveal a dark haired guy who immediately flinches and awakens with a start. He squints at the intrusion of sunlight before slowly making his way out of the vans door, “What time zone is this?” He questions, obviously dealing with some sort of jet lag.

The first guy nods towards Steve, “Come on. Come on.” Pushing him towards the one and only....

“Captain America!” Softly exclaims the man in excitement, eyes bright with bewilderment as he quickly shakes hands with Steve who mutters, “Mr. Lang.” In acknowledgment.

“It’s an honor.” Says this Lang guy while he continues to excessively shake his hand, “I’m shaking your hand to long. Wow! This is awesome!” Mr. Lang pulls away before pointing at Steve while he turns to the first man and the brunette, “Captain America. Hey, I know you, too. You’re great!” The woman hands him a bright pursed lip grin as Mr. Lang turns back to Steve.

“Jeez. Ah, look, I wanna say, I don’t know a lot of super people, so....thinks for thanking of me.” He quickly mutters with those exact words, a second later his eyes shift over to Sam, “Hey, man!”

Sam nods, “What’s up, Tic Tac?”

“Uh, good to see you. Look, what happened last time when I...”

“It was a great audition, but it’ll never happen again.” Muses Sam as you look over your shoulder to send Bucky a curious look that is well returned.

“They tell you what we’re up against?” Interjects Steve, bringing the central objective back on the table.

Mr. Lang’s brows furrow in thought as he mutters, “Something about some psycho-assassins?” Yeah, that’s one way to put it.

“We’re outside the law on this one. So if you come with us, you’re a wanted man.” Warns Steve.

Mr. Lang shrugs, “Yeah, well, what else is new?”

“We should get moving.” Urges Bucky as you nod.

The first man speaks up again, “We got a chopper lined up.”

Suddenly warning sirens sound out loudly throughout the airport as a German voice advises everyone to leave the premises immediately; understanding exactly what’s being said you gain everyone’s attention, “They’re evacuating the airport.”

Their faces show deep concern, as they turns to face one another, “Stark.”

“Stark?” Questions Sam.

Steve reluctantly nods before addressing the rest of the team, “Suit up.”

-

Tagged: @diegos-butt​   @minigranger​  @bibliophilewednesday​ @holyhumorliteraturelight @lilacs-lavender @a-girl-who-loves-disney @starkssnarks @vikingqueen28 @bizarrebibitch @atomicpersonacheesecake @jmstz @staygoldsquatchling02 @marvelbros-oneshots @shawnartmendes @mischiefmanaged71 @jckie94

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #the winter soldier #the winter soldier x y/n #the winter soldier x reader #the winter soldier x you #marvel imagine #marvel x y/n #marvel x reader #marvel x you #fanfic #fanfiction #series rewrite #bucky series #tfatws x reader

[icyymocha]

Acts of Kindness

Warnings: Fluff, angst, Bucky loathing, insecurities

word count: 2,285 

Summary: From the beginning you both started dating, he was never one for showing affections, always opting to hold your hand; the bare minimum of showing any love to you physically. Bucky would show you his undying love for you through small acts of kindness and services. Throughout his life, the super-soldier was taught to be a gentleman. Always paying attention to his loved ones before he puts himself and his needs first. He’s always the believer who thought, ‘actions speak louder than words,’ kind of guy.

Bucky was disoriented and bitter. He was emotionless but it never meant he never had his moments of vulnerability. When Bucky was brought back from the blip and experienced his best friend leaving him with Sam and getting the worst therapist, he was so, so, so tired. He disconnected everyone—even his other best friend, Sam Wilson. Having a bloodbath of a past, he couldn’t stand being in a room with people, fearing he would hurt them again. He wasn’t himself. That was until he met you. You were kind and understanding. Unlike everyone, you weren’t walking on eggshells whenever it’s about him. You always showed him that you only saw him as a person instead of a monster. Bucky feels a warm feeling whenever he’s around you, yet he’s always stifling himself whenever you show small gestures of kindness that make his knees go weak.

Bucky thought he was showing how he felt around you and others (even if all he does is grunt and stiffen or stare when people are around). It wasn’t always like that it was the opposite for you. You thought he hated your presence, always noticing how he stiffens like a wooden board. So you started to distance yourself. Only believing he hates you and noting how he doesn’t like what you do. Oh, If only you knew. The first few weeks when you weren’t doing your usual morning routines (he’s not a stalker, he’s an observant person, guys) Bucky was confused and frowned. He didn’t push it and nevertheless continued on his day—ignoring the yearning feeling for you. Then, another few weeks came by, and then a month and, so on. Bucky was frustrated. Why were you ignoring him? Did he do something wrong? Did you finally see the monster he truly was from the inside? No….

He shook the thought away. He couldn’t have you be afraid of him now, not now, not after when it’s your fault for giving him these strange feelings. Sam pointed out he had a crush on you, but he was a stubborn bull and bluntly said “it’ll go away.” Wrong. He was so wrong.

So, after weeks of planning, Bucky decided to show his first act of kindness towards you. He prepped himself to have a bit of confidence in the mirror, having Sam forcing telling him to ‘man up’ By the time it was time to go and meet you (Sam setting the both of you up), Bucky protested and complained. Knowing how much of an asshole he was and how he took your kindness for granted. At this point, Sam was annoyed and being the best wingman he is (no pun intended), shoved him out of his apartment and dragged his ass to the place where you both met. The park. It was simple yet cliché. But Bucky, he was more than glad he had met you—by err running into you and knocking you off the ground by accident. He profusely apologized yet you laughed it off as if it was nothing. Months after the blip, he thought no one would recognize him, but he was wrong. He simply forgot you used to work for Shield and was there during the fight against Thanos. How could he have ever forgotten about you? You were there, since day one during the civil war, had he not realized about your presence? Either way, he was ecstatic.

Seeing you there all dolled up, Bucky hesitated. Sam huffed and shoved him a bit further more into your direction; Bucky glared at him. Nervous was an understatement. But Bucky was more than nervous. Every bundle of nerves in his body wanted him to run away but his heart told him to express his feelings towards you. Clearing his throat, you turned around and was surprised to see him there. Not like you were complaining. Bucky was wearing his usual black clothing but he always looked handsome.

“I didn’t think to see you here Buck,” you said, surprise written all over your face

“Well me either” Bucky said bluntly

Stupid, stupid, stupid—he heard Sam say in his comm.

“I—uh, I mean, Sam forced me to meet you” Bucky coughed awkwardly

You raised an eyebrow, your lips quirking upwards. His com is full of Sam’s ridiculous laughter and annoying remarks. He is so going to kill Sam.

“Well that’s unfortunate, too bad Sam’s missing out the fun,” you joked

The stiff tension in Bucky's shoulder relaxed a bit. Okay, good so far...

“Yeah, you’re right, doll”

Shifting his weight from one foot to another, Bucky looked down at the ground. Being around you was already making him shy away from but talking to you for the first time with a full conversation made his heartbeats rapidly

“Uh I got you something”

“Oh?”

Handing you a bag in your direction. Bucky waited until you looked inside. Anxiety eating him up to see how you react to his gift.

The bag in your hand felt heavy. You trusted Bucky, even more so than Sam (not like you’re ever gonna tell him that). You slowly opened the bag to see it filled with a variety of gifts. Your eyes widened.

Inside, there was a copy of your favorite mug you had broken during a food fight with Natasha. Next, were boxes of your favorite foods and chocolates. Then, a small amount of jewelry and a sweater with your favorite band. Others were some of your favorite novels. Last, was a letter? Wait, a letter from Bucky? That’s new.

You put down the gift bag and carefully opened the letter you assumed was written by Bucky.

Dear Y/n,

Uh, I don’t know where to start but nothing I do could match for all the acts of kindness you had shown me throughout the years.

I, uh, I’m sorry for all the shit you had to put up from me. I acted like an ass and I took everything for granted of your consideration for me. I never realized I hadn’t told you how I felt about you until you started to distance yourself around me. It’s not your fault, I understand.

Being known as a weapon from Hydra and a murder for killing the innocence of people, I understand if you’ve distanced yourself because of that. I never meant to scare you away. It’s quite far from that.

I always wanted to express how I felt around you. The way you gave me a warm feeling inside of me, made me feel loved and cared for. But I was never one for physical contact and I never know how to act around you nor tell you words about it. No words could ever describe what you mean to me, how much beauty you hold can have everyone look at you. If I’m being honest, you got me whipped and so is everyone else around your finger.

It was clear to me that I wasn’t always the best with people nor did I care enough to see how my actions or words could affect a person. I never realized I didn’t observe a person’s well-being enough to understand that this would create a drift between you and me. I’m sorry I never communicated with you—regardless even it’s just a quick yes or no question.

Sincerely,

James Buchanan Barnes.

It was eerily quiet. The tension between both couples was awkward. Bucky didn’t know whether to stay or leave and dig his grave six feet down in secondhand embarrassment. He quickly looked down at the ground, ashamed. He had a feeling he should’ve never written that letter to you, it was stupid and a dumb idea. Thoughts raced through his head; his fear of rejection of you leaving him. He lost so many people in his life, Bucky would’ve been devastated if you left because of him. It would be beyond the repair of what’s left of him that Bucky gave to you each day, pieces by pieces. Shallow breathes became heavier but Bucky gulped painfully, ignoring the burning feeling in his throat for a release of hot air.

What if this is the end? What if you hated him now? What if you left him because you found out who he truly was? What if you left because he never approached you as other people did? What if-

A gentle motion of a hand grazed his right bicep soothingly. He gulped even harder. This is it, Bucky tells himself. Yet no harsh words came at him nor did the mercilessness of a slap come towards him. But, two fingers grabbing a hold of his chin, forcing him to look up at the eyes that took his breath away.

“Bucky?” y/n whispered

closing his eyes, he waited for the rejection but it never came. He waited and waited. Feeling the warmth of two soft hands cradling his face, he leaned into their touch.

“This is really touching, thank you.” Y/n thanked, peppering kisses around his face. Their hands caressing his face, feeling the little stubbles underneath their fingers. Bucky’s whole body wanted to melt right then and there, already thinking how he needed their touch from now on.

Nuzzling into his neck, you murmured a sweet confession. Bucky already thought his heart had melted but no, it very much exploded—already so overwhelmed with this new profound feeling of love.

As much as Bucky savored the sweet moment with y/n, Sam had to interrupt it

“Are you lovebirds done yet?”

“I can’t stand watching an old man be all sappy,”

“Oooo Bucky's gonna get it,”

“We all know he’s gonna get laid y/n.”

Cue Sam fake gagging noises in Bucky’s com

Y/n giggled while Bucky clenched his jaw. His eyebrows furrowed and his crystal blue eyes darkened, he was ready to beat Sam’s ass for ruining the moment. You watched as Sam screamed for his life in and out of the park while a certain super soldier shouted profanities at him. It went on for a while. And during those moments, you recorded it all and saved a backup just in case to tease Sam about it. (You’ll never forget how Sam screamed like a little girl)

From the beginning you both started dating, he was never one for showing affections, always opting to hold your hand; the bare minimum of showing any love to you physically. Bucky would show you his undying love for you through small acts of kindness and services. Throughout his life, the super-soldier was taught to be a gentleman. Always paying attention to his loved ones before he puts himself and his needs first. He’s always the believer who thought, ‘actions speak louder than words,’ kind of guy.

He would always show ways of his way of saying, “I love you,” by refilling your cup in the mornings. Always made sure you were fed and hydrated throughout the day. He would ask if you need anything for personal needs, replacing your nightly skin routine when he thinks it’s almost finished. 

Whenever you have errands to run or missions to accomplish, Bucky always insisted to come with you whether you like it or not. He’s always so protective towards you and his biggest fear is ever losing you. He could never imagine hurting you or having you get hurt by something or someone without him being there to rescue you in time. A lot of insecurities were passing through his head, having that one voice in the dark corners of his mind, always wondering why? Why did you choose him? Bucky only saw his reflection nothing more but a weapon. A freak. When you found out about his insecurities, you made sure he was your first priority, always giving him extra love and attention. 

So, when weeks have passed by after that incident. Bucky found out you were a very affectionate person, more so before the two of you had gotten into a relationship. You loved feeling the arms of your lover; always feeling safe. You quickly learned that Bucky is now your personal coddler for warmth the first time he hugged you as you loved the sentiment and the thoughts of being held in a warm embrace. 

From then on, as Bucky kept pampering you, ignoring your protests and complaints, he made sure every need of yours was taken care of. Whenever Bucky feels like you are having a bad down overall, he would quietly take you to your guy’s shared bedroom and cuddle in silence, occasionally lazily tracing patterns and shapes to your back. Bucky was never the one to voice out his love, always thinking intimacy is better than a couple of futile words that cannot be compared to much love he has for you. If he wanted to, Bucky would shout out compliments and his love for you to the world yet it would never be enough. It would never be enough in his mind. You were his. And he would always make sure that his love is heard, whether he silently does so. The whole moment felt like a blur. Everything went by eerily quickly. Two years felt like two days being in a relationship together. Yet, Bucky is still the man who believes in, “Actions speak louder than words.” Nevertheless, he would never resist your charms and soft touches here and there. Those loving moments between the two of you as you cuddle in bed after a night full of passion, lazily tracing shapes and patterns on your guys' skin. Even if you had to do it in private, you wouldn’t trade it for the world.

#bucky #bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky fanfiction #bucky oneshot #bucky fluff #bucky angst #james bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky fic #bucky fucking barnes #bucky blurb #bucky fandom #james buchanan barnes #james buchanan bucky barnes #marvel #MARVEL FANDOM #marvel fic #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #marvel angst #marvel fluff #marvel x reader #marvel oneshots #marvel bucky barnes #spicymocha #spicymocha'smasterlist #tfatws

[romanogers-lyrics]

TFAWS Ep 5: finally some good fucking ✨vindication✨

Scratch that rewind what I said- this is the best episode (maybe in comic book tv history). Closure, growth, and redemption 🙌 just when I was worried they wouldn’t be able to tie things up they fucking give me this 😩🤩👏✊🏽

Holy hell my poor heart died and ascended to the moon to hang out with Steve and Natasha. ✨Goddamn the mastery of storytelling in this episode is why I love the MCU so much ✨

The opening fight between Walker, Bucky, and Sam had me on the edge of my seat. Like in most fights you know the stakes are low because the main heroes always win but this fight... whew it was consequential and more personal than the civil war fight imo. I genuinely was worried about the outcome for Sam and Bucky physically and emotionally. Every beat was character driven! This was cathartic. 🙌 the stunt coordinators knocked it out of the park lovelovelove 💕.

“I am captain America” homie you giving me Gollum vibes. “It’s (the shield) MINE!” Like-

So many creative stunts with the wings!!!

Bucky and Sam working TOGETHER

BUCKY DROPPING THE SHIELD AT SAM’S FEET 😭

The golden light seeping into the frame at the end of the fight 🤌🏼

Sam wiping the blood off the shield. 🥲 I can’t even articulate but it makes me feel-

Sammy’s wings got snapped off and he eventually left them with Torres (passing the mantle?) which symbolizes Sam growing out of his old super hero role. It was cleansing. He’s ready to be more. He’s ready to take action rather than let things happen to him 👏

Baby boy Torres trying to talk to Mr Bucky 🥺. You have both sleeves today Mr Bucky sir 💕

I want no I NEED 😫Torres to fly in with the wings next episode.

How we feeling about Walker?? On the one hand I feel him. Us gov did him dirty but at the same time he made the choices he made. Maybe there is room for redemption? Idk... 🙃 or will he continue to get worse?

I am SO glad that Sam went back to talk to isaiah. He needed to know the full story. He needed closure. I could ramble on and on but the writers made the points so much better than I could but just-

Steve did the exact same thing as Isaiah in the first avenger. He went behind enemy lines to rescue Bucky- without permission! He was a hero for it. And Isaiah was thrown in jail? The double standard is so frustrating

I think Isiah’s point that “no self respecting black man” would use the shield makes sense with his background and story. It makes me sick what was done to him. Things really haven’t changed 😞. At this point I honestly wasn’t sure what Sam was going to do. More later on about this-

Zemo’s theme is so beautiful every time I hear it. 🤌🏼🤌🏼🤌🏼🤌🏼

What a beautiful scene. Cinematography 💯 Such a great moment between Bucky and Zemo. Zemo fully expects to die and then Bucky does the one thing zemo didn’t expect- the one thing he wasn’t “programmed” to do. Fuuuuuckcjfkekxn

“I crossed my name off in your book” 😭. He obviously grew to respect Bucky and wants him to have peace at last with all the civil war stuff.

Ayo back to calling Bucky white wolf 🐺 love to see it.

The kids playing with the shield and tracing the star has me CRYING. Kids are our hope and they still see something special in the shield. They still believe in it. 😭 such a small moment completely floored me.

Wholesome boat fix up 🥺. I feel like this is the montage where SamBucky fall in love 😂

When Sarah and Sam are talking about the boat- how it is their history- I think again of Isaiah. His history was erased. Sam has to preserve his history ✊🏽

Sarah is a goddamn queen and I Stan 🤌🏼✨

The montage was just a sip of cool water in the desert of trauma that is the MCU.

OKEEEE the conversation between Sam and Bucky where they’re tossing the shield is great on so many levels 😍:

Physically the shield matches the dynamic of the convo. Someone makes a point and throws it. Someone accepts what that person said and catches the shield. Bucky physically offers the shield when he says “I’m sorry” and Sam accepts the shield AND the apology.

The difference between avenging and amending. I was surprised they even used that word bc it calls out the avengers for maybe not doing the emotional work involved in being a hero. Healing is part of the hero job now. #phase4

A small detail but as a person of color I valued it; when Bucky said I’m sorry Sam did not say “it’s okay” or “no worries” because he didn’t have to, I feel like as a POC I’m always making white people feel better and for once I’d like to be confident enough to just accept someone’s apology outright and know I deserve it.

Pivotal when Sam said “it doesn’t matter what Steve thought” at first I was like biiiihhh??! 😠 but he had a point. Both Sam and Bucky have been trying to do hold onto another person who is gone. They gotta heal but more importantly they have to find their own reasons to keep fighting.

The training montage 🤌🏼🙌🤩🥲🥺😭✊🏽. Like FEED ME YEs WE ARE EATiNG. Sammy deserves it all

Sam’s cap theme music is similar to Steve’s but still different. Goddamn so beautiful 💕💕😩

Sam has been pretty passive in this show- almost wanting confirmation he did the right thing. Isaiah didn’t give Sam that comfort but neither did Bucky at first. Sam had to make his own choice 😤✊🏽

It’s a heavy burden to be cap knowing all the shit that has come before but Sam is the only one who can make that decision to be or not to be. And he’s seen the alternative now. In life taking action and taking control of our situation is empowering but always harder than doing nothing. He says it best- what’s the point of all that struggle if you’re not going keep on fighting ✊🏽🥺 I love and respect Sam so much 😭 spoken like captain America! 👏

Show me the suit you COWARDS I WANNA SEe

Goddamnit damnit to hell... I need to SEE IT

Is Sharon setting a trap for Karli???

🚨 end credit: I’m not sure if they are making an iron man comparison. What do you guys think?

Ready for the showdown throwdown next week 👀

All in all it was fucking wild ya’ll and I felt catharsis watching this and so fucking hopeful. I cry 😭

Please feel free to share any thoughts you have about this episode💕

there’s so much in this show that is world building within mcu but also in greater conversations about heroism and power. It is a moral re evaluation of the superhero. Malcom Spellman being head writer you know this shit is not happenstance it is intentional. The took the long road and it totally paid off in this episode 😭

🙇🏻‍♀️ I am emotionally manipulated by this show 🙇🏻‍♀️

Huge shout out to all the cast and crew for making something both respectful to the lore but also challenging it to be better 🙌

My ep 4 review:

Tag list: @soliloquy-of-nemo

#romanogers #mcu #captain america #marvel #avengers #black widow #natasha romanoff #steve rogers #stackie #sam wilson #sambucky #tfaws spoilers #tfaws #john walker #sharon carter #helmut zemo #marvel memes #joaquin torres

[keouil]

how you forget to be human

“so is she like,” scott hesitates. “cap’s first lady or something?” rated t. 2k+. steve/nat. also on ao3 / twitter / cc

Scott hasn’t been with the team for a long time, but he thinks he at least has enough working knowledge of how everyone operates.

The Winter Soldier—Bucky to Steve,  James to anyone who dared—quite frankly still scares the living shit out of him, and that’s Magneto on a good day. It didn’t take much to deduce he seemed wholly uncomfortable in his own skin, his jaw coiled perpetually tight and the rigid set of his shoulders always in alert. It was uneasy just being around him, his discomfort bleeding over others and charging the air around his space with its own brand of disquieting; but always, without fail, Steve cushioned whatever apprehension anyone aimed toward his bestfriend.

Most of it came from Sam, and almost always in good nature as if to ease the brainwashed supersoldier into some semblance of normality; and Scott would fear for Sam’s life every time he opened his mouth, were it not for the also very obvious fact the Falcon held his own and didn’t appreciate handouts and the three of them seemed to be getting along uniquely (if not a little oddly) well enough.

The witch was a small problem, however. Simply for the fact she was a witch and Scott is wary because history taught him they burned all of them down in Salem. 

He sees her wiggling those voodoo fingers around sometimes, almost unconsciously, and feels the hairs on his arms rise with every flick of her wrist. The energy around her isn’t suffocating the same way Bucky’s is. It was more a subtle nervous tingling; like she herself was afraid of the gravity of her own powers she had yet to have complete reigns on. Scott is oddly humbled by the fact and even empathises with her a little.

Steve keeps an eye on her and doesn’t bother hiding it, but it’s the archer who gets past her when it really counts. Clint Barton, who, surprisingly is the one he’s on the most similar wavelength with out of all of them: family man and all.

Clint Barton whose also friends with Natasha Romanoff.

.

.

.

Hawkeye who has simultaneously the most complex and impossibly simple relationship with Black Widow.

“I swear to god if you ring me up next time you’re out of goddamn Fruit Loops,” Natasha warns, digging through one of the five grocery bags on the kitchen island. She fishes for a few more seconds, before popping a colourful cartoon box out from under the bag and tossing it to Barton. “I’m bringing you in for real.”

Clint scoffs, placing the carton on the top shelf. “How many times have I heard that before?”

“Apparently not enough,” Natasha glares at him from her peripheral, scooping out Nutella and a pack of store-bought pryanik to lay on the table. Russian biscuits. For Wanda. “If I’m still stopping by an abandoned boarding house in the slums of Siberia every other week. Y’all grown men can’t do grocery shopping by yourselves?”

Scott blinks from his spot by one of the stools. 

Of all the things he expected to wake up to in hiding from 117 countries from possible charges of aiding and abetting a war criminal, Black Widow casually arranging and organising their weekly rationale was nowhere near the top of the list. She did this all the while supposedly fighting for the other team.

This one needs no introduction.

Scott knows who Black Widow is. Scott knows Captain America, after all. 

You don’t grow up in the land of the free without knowing his legacy even in minute passing. The man has been plastered on nearly every surface of the continent since the dawn of America. Scott has seen the news footages, read the official accounts, willingly devoured every single documentary or biopic helmed in honour of their nation’s greatest hero: he knows, down to the bone, the star-spangled man with a plan. 

A forgotten and revered and rebirthed war hero. 

How he came to know of her, however, is an entirely different story: because come the news footages, zoom in close enough you’ll see the infamous shield covering a much smaller and daintier figure; go over the accounts with a fine-toothed comb, they speak of a levelled dynamic between a commanding officer and a shadow leader; and, lest history not forget, the documentaries: Peggy, because behind every great man is a woman, Natasha.

“Now why would we do that if we got you?” Sam. He comes up from behind the hallway to playfully grin at Natasha before enveloping her in a small hug. She returns it easily.

Scott braces himself for what’s to come, because they came in a pair, and so: “Nat,” Steven Grant Rogers, in the flesh himself, pokes his head in not a moment later with a barely indisputable frown on his face. “You came here again?”

Natasha clicks her tongue at him. “Someone had to make sure you boys were fed.”

“That’s not— We can—” Steve stutters as he strides in, and Scott has to very carefully school his features into nonchalance because Captain America does not stammer. He sighs deeply before settling next to her, nudging her with his hip. “Tony atleast know you're here?”

Natasha gives him a pointed look. “Who do you think paid for all this?”

.

.

.

Scott watches their silhouettes grow smaller and smaller by the distance.

Even from afar, he can make out Steve’s absolute hulk of a frame: back impossibly straight in a way that bespoke authenticity, years of rigid military training drilled into his bones; only he seemed to mellow, somehow and very slightly, the fine lines of his shoulders angled in the direction of her voice. And Natasha: brave and lithe, nearly a head shorter and so much more smaller, facing forward in full confidence and a leisurely stride in her steps.

Siberia has a biting night air that seeps deep into the bone. But it’s also comforting somehow; all of them knowing, in one way or another, what it was like to be iced out from society. 

They were all huddled by the makeshift campfire Barton fashioned out of some wooden logs and a matchstick. Sam, in charge of roasting marshmallows, was gently coaxing Bucky into eating one and promising him it’s not poisoned. Wanda was handing out steaming cups of hot chocolate brewed from the pack Natasha brought in a few hours ago, a staple in her weekly grocery runs because apparently the kid witch liked sweets. 

Scott gingerly takes a sip from his mug, some of the warmth seeping into liquid courage he was building up for weeks now. He takes a deep breath before plunging himself into the waves.

“I can’t be the only one worried that the enemy has infiltrated our territory, right?”

To their credit, neither of them kill him on sight. 

Wanda pauses in levitating one of the wooden logs above the hearth, a single bark of kindling hovering uncertainly over the air. Bucky has an unreadable expression on his face when he regards him. A look passes between Sam and Clint, betraying nothing of their inner thoughts at his outburst.

The fire is nice and toasty, but the air is stifling now and Scott has never felt more the outsider than at that very moment.

Until Sam breaks into a hearty laugh. “Widow?” he shakes his head amusedly. “No, man, Steve and Nat are tight. They’re past stuff like that.”

Scott furrows his eyebrows in concern. “But isn’t she—”

“On Tony’s side?” Clint quips, poking at one of the planks. Wanda finally drops the floating bark, and Scott doesn’t miss the flash of something in her eyes when she glances at him from the other side of the fire. He thinks he saw a spark of red for a second. “Sure, I guess. Technically she’s Team Iron Man or whatever that means. But Natasha is also fiercely loyal, especially when it comes to Steve.”

“What does that  mean?” Scott asks in genuine confusion.

Sam opens his mouth to elaborate, words already forming on his mouth; before he seems to come to a belated realisation, blinks, and manages a nonchalant shrug. "Damn if I know,” he admits, turning over a puffy mallow and watching the crackles of fire burn its edges. “But she’s good for him. That’s all I care about.”

“And he’s good for her,” Clint returns easily, not an ounce of hesitation in his voice. “Maybe sometimes it’s just that easy.”

They hear the crunching of footsteps on snow creeping up behind them, and Scott takes this as his cue to stash the conversation for another time. 

He watches them stroll in together carefully.

Steve holds the gate open for her and places a small hand on her back as they advance in the small patch of woods by the backyard. Natasha settles next to Wanda, hands going up and down her arms to warm the younger girl despite being the one having only just gone out for a walk in the middle of Russian winter: because, and at this Scott is now confident, the jacket resting on her shoulders three times her size was keeping her warm enough.

.

.

.

The quinjet doesn’t start up right away.

Scott is slowly panicking, because the realisation that he was truly out of his depth at fighting in the next greatest civil war of the century notches above his pay grade only viscerally begins to take hold. 

He has a family back home, pets to feed, a little life saving every now and then; but never this colossal of a scale, never with the stakes stacked up so high against them, that it really could only ever be toppled down by the likes of fucking Iron Man and Captain America.

But Steve is still confident.

It’s so bloody obvious he was always going to keep at it, gunned down the concrete walls of the airport and clawed his way out of it brick by brick if need be. He was really and truly the good man underneath it all, and at the back of his mind, Scott still finds himself awed at the fact.

But he doesn’t know how on  earth  the man came out of that airport not visibly rattled, not at all unlike how Scott was currently feeling; and, as he processes the rest of their wayward expressions, he knew he wasn’t alone in thinking so.

“Cap,” Sam wheezes by the floor, fighting to labor his breathing with a hand clutched on his dislocated shoulder. “I still got the jeep parked outside. It’s not too late. We can hike the rest of the way.”

“No,” Steve replies, an edge of conviction in his voice. There is not a single tremor in his stubborn hands gripping the wheel. “That’s gonna hold us back days. We just need to be up in the air for now. We need—”

“A woman to come to your rescue again?”

This time, it’s Scott who sighs in deep relief at her voice. This time, Scott doesn’t fight the churn in his stomach at the prospect of having someone who nearly nicked him lifeless not even hours ago this close a range with them again. This time, she is not Black Widow, but simply Natasha Romanoff; Steve Rogers’ friend.

This time, Scott thinks, he will let them be easy just like that.

There was no more a sign of tremble in his voice or hands the entire battle, but at the lilt of her voice, he just crumbles. 

“Nat,” Steve breathes out when he turns to her, hands fisting at his sides in an attempt to regain control. Just like that, he unravels; so easily and without preamble in the face of her steeled strength. “I can’t get it to turn on— And I— We have to get Bucky—”

“Work through it, Steve,” she cooes in probably the most placating voice he’s heard of her, but she doesn’t move to touch him when she comes close. Her hands are going a mile a minute over the control panel, pushing buttons and lifting levers. Steve is hovering by her side like it's the only thing holding him together. “You know how to fly this thing, right?”

Steve is visibly taken aback and angles his body to face her. “You’re not coming with us?”

The question hangs in the air.

It charges the silence around them and quells any of their growing uncertainty, because, clear as it was of Steve’s well-founded and undeniable leadership skills: they also knew, intimately, she anchored him through it all.

Sam was putting pressure around Bucky’s human arm as he looked back and forth at them tensely. He could feel Wanda hitch her breath behind him.

Natasha’s fingers keep flying away at the keyboard, until they feel the telling signs of an engine rumbling underneath and the overhead lights spurting back to light. The whole jet roars to life in the next second, heating fans whizzing and technical sounds beeping. She shifts some gears around and locks in a destination with the GPS navigation.

When she turns to look at Steve, it is then Scott forces himself to pry his eyes away and not bear witness to this part of his already over documented life. In that single moment of uncertainty, the what does that mean is meant like this: an intimate baring of a soul, heart, trust: in a way no words could ever begin describing or should even attempt to put to paper. 

It is friendship at the most intimate level, it is soulmates on the most soul-crushing departure, and it is the everything else that comes after.

“Not this time, Rogers,” he hears her say, and Scott doesn’t have to imagine the slight fracturing of his iron-clad footing in the world swaying ever so slightly, when he replies with: “Then I guess I’ll see you around, Romanoff.” .

.

.

“So is she like,” Scott hesitates. “Cap’s first lady or something?”

They’re some seventy feet off the air above the Pacific Ocean, the moisture from the ocean drifting up to the open barracks and making the air glisten around them. Bucky is fast asleep somewhere down the lower levels with Wanda keeping watch over him, upon the fervent insistence of Steve arguing he needed rest. It came as no surprise that he also self-assigned himself the first watch of the night. 

Sam is sharpening his knives, the grating sound of sandpaper slicing over iron piercing through the silent hum and drum of the night. 

“Please,” he scoffs, looking over at him. “If anything, Steve is her first lady.”

#romanogers #stevenat #fic #natasha romanoff #steve rogers #romanogers fi #stevenat fic #marvel fic

[a-edgar-allan-hoe]

The Last Chthonian

Bucky x Reader, Sam x Reader, Zemo x Reader

Part 12

A/N: Here is Chapter 12 lovelies! Let me know if you would like to get added to the tag list! 🖤🔮🖤

Summary: Imagine being Hekate, the Greek goddess of magic and witchcraft, the night and the moon, doorways and crossroads, creatures of the night, and ghosts and necromancy. You stumbled upon Earth many centuries ago and since then have resided on the foreign planet. During the recent years you created an alias for yourself to hide your true identity, and after the war against Thanos you chose to live out your days in the Scottish countryside, until a certain trio appear at your doorstep one day.

Warnings: language, scars

“Logan?” You stared at him wide eyed and as he turned around to face you, you rushed in for a hug like a child, wrapping your arms around his frame as he returned the gesture, rubbing your back.

It had been so long since you had seen him. Logan had always been like a father figure to you, the father you never had, even though you surpassed him by thousands of years. He always had a paternal aura about him despite his rough appearance, and he was the one person you always turned to and shared all your secrets with. You had first met him back in 1861 during the Civil War when you disguised yourself as a young man so that you could join the Union. But he had seen right through your act when you refused to change or use the restroom in front of the men, always coming up with excuses that all the soldiers fell for, well except for him. You two still liked to laugh about the story till this day. And since the day you first met him, you two had formed an inseparable bond.

“Good to see you too kid.” Logan chuckled at your reaction to seeing him.

You pulled back from the hug, looking up at him with a scowl on your face before punching him in the arm.

“Ow. The hell was that for?”

“What the hell are you doing here? And why did you have to man handle me like that? You made me drop my phone.” You snapped at him, going over to pick your phone off the floor, glancing around to make sure no one was near before going back into the hallway.

“I’m here on business. Got some punk who’s ass I gotta catch.” Logan answered your question. “And if you ask me, you seemed to be the one doing most of the man handling.”

“Only because you had to grab me like some kind of creep.” You remarked. “So what, you’re following me now?”

“Like I said, I’m huntin down this criminal, or a couple criminals you could say. Just like you got your ring of demons huntin down human traffickers and the worst of mankind, I got my work too. So, what do I see when I’m about to slice up some punk? I see your ass here, running down the middle of the streets in a stupid dress and getting shot at by bounty hunters and criminals. The hell are you doing in a place like this? It’s dangerous.” Logan lectured you before pulling out his cigar.

“No shit Sherlock. I know it’s dangerous.”

“Hey, watch your attitude.”

“Says the one who taught me that attitude in the first place.” You put your arms across your chest in a defensive stance as you argued with him. “And you’re not the only one here on a mission, alright? I’m helping out a friend.”

“Yeah? Your friend drag you into this?”

“No, I came here on my choice.”

“I thought you were laying low but fair enough.” He nodded as he lit up his cigar. “How’s Athena?”

“Oh she’s doing great. She does miss you though, won’t stop talking about how she wants to see gramps.”

“Heh, she’s a good kid, you raised her well.”

“I did the best I could as a mother.” You sighed before punching him the arm again, this time lighter. “I’m starving and you delayed me from getting my pizza by the way, you remember that and you remember it well. Let the guilt haunt you for the remainder of your days.”

“Yeah yeah, I didn’t know you were on one of those psycho food missions. C’mon, I know a spot.” Logan ruffled your hair as you followed him out of the building, walking down the night lit street as you two caught up on recent events. You noticed that you had become more comfortable with the scar on your face. You stopped turning your face away in conversations and now even looked the person you were speaking with in the eye, allowing them to get a full view. And though you still received many looks, it didn’t bother you as much as it used too and you were now less ashamed of it. After putting in effort to hide your scars for so long because you couldn’t stand the sight of them, here you were putting them on display. After all, scars told stories. But part of you wondered if it had anything to do with what Zemo had told you. The way he looked right at you when he suggested you keep them visible because he thought it suited you.

“How’s everyone at the school?” You asked Logan.

“They miss you, the students as well, especially Rogue. They’ve been begging Charles to try to convince you to come back and teach Mythology and Classic Literature again.”

“I do miss the place.” You sighed as you walked the streets with your hands in the pockets of your jacket. “But I need some time. I promise I’ll be back soon though.”

“Hey, take your time. Just don’t take a hundred years.” Logan teased.

“I won’t.”

“Hey, this is the pizza place I was talking about.” Logan patted your back before gesturing to the little pizza shop. It was a little mom-and-pop place but the aroma that came through the doors made you salivate and your stomach let out a loud growl that sounded like a monster was trapped in there.

“Finally. I’m starving.” You groaned as you went up to the counter and ordered three boxes of pizzas.

“Geez, you gonna eat all that?” Logan looked at you after the wait as you went up to the counter to pick up your three boxes of cheese pizzas.

“Nah. One of them is for me. The rest is for you and the guys.”

“What guys? The ones who were running behind you when you were getting shot at?”

“Ya.”

“You need help with those?”

“Nah I got it.” You shook your head as you stepped out of the shop, you couldn’t wait to go back to the gallery and scarf down the whole pizza by yourself. You were hoping tonight you would pass out from a food coma so you could get a decent night’s sleep.

“Y/n?” You saw Sam step out of the entrance of the building once he saw you approach. “Where have you been? You said you were making a call. And what are you doing with those pizzas?”

“Yeah well I got hungry.”

“Who’s this?” Sam asked you as he eyed Logan.

“A friend.”

“What kind of friend?”

“A good friend Sam.” You replied as you walked back in to the building, the loud music and flashing lights filling your senses annoyingly once more.

Sam carefully watched the mysterious new man you had just brought in, following behind you as you went over to where Bucky was standing by the bar, dropping the pizzas down on the counter. “Pizza time!”

“What’s this?” Bucky looked at you, questioning why you had just brought in three full boxes of pizzas.

“This is Pizza. Don’t tell me you’ve never had pizza Barnes.” You remarked as you opened up the box you brought for yourself, pulling it up in front of you as you sat down on the barstool.

“I’ve had pizza before. I’m not that uncultured.” Bucky sighed at your statement. Why did everyone assume he didn’t have a clue about most things in the world.

“I’m kidding Bucky. You’re the one who asked the question ‘what’s this?’. Those two boxes are for you guys by the way.” You nodded as you took a large bite of the warm cheesy pizza, your mouth watering from finally having what you craved and not being able to resist the satisfied moan that came out of your mouth. “Wow. You were right Logan. This shit is good.”

“Told you so.” Logan smirked as he took a slice for himself, Sam and Bucky watching with caution at who this burly man with the leather jacket was that set his cigar down on the ashtray. “Hey slow down kid, keep eating that fast and you’ll choke.”

“Fucks sake Logan. Let me enjoy my food.”

“Yeah well don’t scarf it down. And watch your mouth.”

“You watch yours old man.” You laughed.

“Old? Look who’s talking artifact.”

Sam and Bucky stood in silence as they watched the two of you bickering amongst each other. Who was this and how were you so comfortable around him? They had never seen you this much at ease and it was as if you two were close for a very long time.

Logan caught them staring at him, glowering as he got up from his seat. “Got a problem bub?”

“Who the hell are you supposed to be?” Bucky questioned as took a step towards him, he didn’t like the aura this man had about him. He looked like an asshole.

“Why do you need to know?” Logan stared him down with a scowl as he stood inches apart from him.

You watched the confrontation between Bucky and Logan and nearly choked on your pizza as you saw Logan’s admantium claws come out of his knuckles, forcing you to jump between them. Bucky and Sam noticed this and raised their brows in surprise at him. They were trying to figure out what the hell it was that just came out of his knuckles.

“Woah woah woah! Enough of the testosterone. This is just Logan you two, I’ve known him for a really long time and he’s like a father to me so you can quit the glaring. Bucky, I said quit staring. Logan, this is Sam and Bucky.”

“Hang on.” Sam realized once he recognized Logan. “You’re that one guy, Wolverine right? From the X-Men?”

“Yeah.” Logan grumbled as he sat back down to finish his slice, not wanting to converse any more though you were always an exception for him.

“Hey where’s Zemo by the way?” You brought up as you noticed he wasn’t there and you couldn’t find sight of him.

“He’s dancing.” Bucky answered your question with a look that meant unbelievable as he nodded towards the dance floor.

And as you looked, there you saw none other than Zemo himself, in the middle of the dance floor, paying no mind to others and grooving along to the bass music with movements of his hands.

“No fucking way.” You gaped with your mouth open, your pizza slice hovering inches from your lips since you were too engrossed in the scene before you. Since when did he dance? You couldn’t believe your eyes at what you saw, here was this criminal, in the middle of the dance floor pumping his fists to the beat.

“I know right.” Sam scoffed as he watched with you. “I had to look twice to make sure of what I was seeing.”

“Did he? Did he just do a finger twirl?” You squinted your eyes and scrunched your nose in disbelief.

“Yup. Yes he did.” Sam confirmed.

“Wow.” You shook your head. “Unbelievable. I could never do that.”

“I thought you were a ballerina.” Bucky asked.

“I was. But that’s different. Anyways, I’m going to retire for the night. I think I’ve seen enough.” You got up from your seat, crushing up your empty pizza box and tossing it away. You bid the men goodnight and told them to leave a few slices for Zemo if he wanted any, adding how you didn’t care if he wanted them or not, it didn’t matter to you. You bid Logan a teary farewell and hugged him, he had to head back to his place and had some matters to attend to. You were heartbroken to see him leave so soon but hoped to see him again.

After conversing a little with Sharon, you went upstairs to one of the rooms she had reserved for the four of you. It was a comfortably spacious bedroom with a modern touch, matching Sharon’s personality perfectly. You closed the door behind you and took out your bag, setting it on the table that was in the corner as you slipped out of your current clothes and into your silk nightgown. After you were done cleaning up in the bathroom, you sat down on the bed under the covers and pulled out your phone, dialing Maze’s number.

“Hey Hekate. What’s up?” You heard her voice on the other line.

“Hey Maze. How’s everything going?”

“Everything is great. Nothing bad happened today and Athena and I did finger paintings. It was so much fun.”

“That’s great! I’m happy you guys are spending quality time together.”

“Yeah, I’m happy too. How are you doing? You sound exhausted.”

“Yeah, I’m ready to knock out.” You chuckled. “Everything is running smoothly so far though.” You thought about telling her the incident involving your powers from earlier but decided against it. You didn’t need her to start worrying about you. “Hey is Athena awake?”

“I was just about done getting her ready for bed. I’ll hand her the phone.” You heard Maze say before there was the sound of rustling.

“Hi Mommy!” You heard your daughter’s voice.

“Hi sweetie! How are you?” You smiled upon hearing her voice, which was something that had always lifted your spirits.

“I’m fine mommy! Maze and I did paintings today!”

“I heard! That’s wonderful! You’ll have to show them to me when I come back. I just wanted to talk to you and make sure you were okay. I’ll let you go to sleep now. Goodnight koukouvágia, I love you.”

“I love you too mommy!” You heard Athena hand over the phone to Maze.

“Thanks again for all this Maze.” You smiled.

“Anytime girl. No need to thank me.”

“Alright.” You had let out a yawn, tears of exhaustion forming at the ends of your eyes as your lids started to get heavy while you tried to keep them open, causing your vision to get blurry in the process. “I’m going to let you sleep and I should do the same.”

“Yeah. You definitely sound like you need it. Goodnight Hekate.”

“Goodnight Maze.” You hung up the phone and set it on the nightstand. Pulling up the soft covers, you laid down on the bed with one of your arms tucked under the pillow while the other was rested on top of your stomach. You had left the curtains open to allow the bit of moonlight in the room. You stared up at the ceiling, feeling your body become numb from fatigue and it’s desperate need for sleep. You don’t remember being this tired.

As you slowly shifted to unconsciousness, your thoughts drifted off to what was to happen tomorrow before shifting to what had happened earlier between you and Zemo at the bar. The way Zemo’s gloved fingers danced patterns on your bare back and thigh still somehow managed to leave goosebumps and chills on your skin, and you felt ashamed to feel that way. Part of you pondered on whether he could have felt the scars lining your back, and you prayed he didn’t. You didn’t want to have to explain to him the story behind the scars that still haunted you till this day. As these thoughts ran through your mind, your eyes slowly fluttered closed and your body finally succumbed to what would have been the power of Hypnos, sleep.

Tag List: @girl-obsessed-with-things @aerynchromie @sunshinepower17 @viviace @kakimakiloh @thebivirgin @gambitsqueen @spookycereal-s @lulu-yuming @mochminnie @Gabitanaka47 @s00nhi @vanteguccir @tomhollandsslilslut @dracoxxyoflam @suchababie @uhhhcrypticbastard @on-my-way-to-erebor @thewinterrbucky @mylifeispainandiloveit @fillechatoyante @padmoonyfeorge @montypythonsholysnail @pollynx @aziraslowlylosestheirshit @roundbrownlover @awesomeowlbook @bookloverfilmoholic

#bucky fluff #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky fic #bucky x you #bucky x female reader #bucky fanfic #bucky imagine #sam wilson x reader #sam wilson x y/n #sam wilson fanfiction #sam wilson imagine #zemo fluff #zemo x you #zemo fanfic #zemo x oc #zemo imagine #zemo x reader #zemo x y/n

[3pirouette]

Fic: Hello, Darling (1/1)

Title: Hello, Darling By: TriplePirouette/3Pirouette Disclaimer: They're not mine. Distribution: AO3  Anyone else please ask first :)

Story Summary:  Instead, he reached for his phone. He hit the only button that seemed to matter at the moment.

Her voice was warm. “Hello, darling.”

“Peg,” he sighed, closing his eyes. “Oh, your voice is just what I needed.”

Angst. Satisfies the Fake Dating a square for the Steggy Bingo Bash. AU, obviously.

A/N: Timeline is as close to sort-of right as I can make it for an AU. 2017 is post Civil War, 2016 is during Civil War, 2014 is during AOU, other time stamps should be self-explanatory. I hope this makes as much sense for everyone else as it does to me- this concept was a little hard to get on paper. I wrote this in about... 2 hours? Couldn’t sleep until I got this out of my brain. Also, I’m sorry. Please get some tissues. More AN at the end.

~*~ 2017

Steve flopped on the bed, wiping his forehead. They’d been training, hard, and he was drained. He and Natasha were spending their days whipping the new iteration of the team into shape and spent their nights sweet talking whatever government officials would listen to them while still trying to stay off the grid.

Their position in multiple areas was shaky, to say the least.

When he couldn’t sleep, which was most of the time, he wrote letters to Bucky, who was still in stasis in Wakanda. The letter writing was a calming ritual, and made him feel closer to his friend when he was doing it, but when he saved the letter instead of sending it, it left him feeling a little more alone than when he started.

He didn’t want to move tonight. He felt empty and exhausted and so very, very much like the small man he used to be on the rickety old bed.

He looked at the second-hand laptop, closed and charging on his desk, and turned away. He couldn’t take that feeling tonight.

Instead, he reached for his phone. He hit the only button that seemed to matter at the moment.

Her voice was warm. “Hello, darling.”

“Peg,” he sighed, closing his eyes. “Oh, your voice is just what I needed.”

Her voice was warm, and there was a smile in it. “Well, I’m just a phone call away, as always.”

���Yeah,” he replied, just a hint of sadness seeping through. He took a deep breath and shifted up on the pillows, closing his eyes and holding the phone tighter to his ear. “We were training again today.”

“How are they pulling together?” She asked, bright and interested. “Has Wanda gained more control?”

“Every day,” he replied quickly, a smile quirking at his face. “She’s more powerful than I think any of us were prepared for, even her. She’s still doubting herself, though.”

Peggy chuckled through the phone. “After what she went through, I’d doubt myself if I were her, too.”

Steve rolled to the side, pulling a pillow tight into his arms. “True.”

“Give her time,” Peggy soothed him. “Think about how long it took you to get the hang of your new body.”

He laughed out loud at that. “What, all thirty seconds or so?”

“I seem to recall you crashing through a store’s front window display fairly immediately.” Her laugh was like bells, light and happy. “Though that was followed by months of tests, followed by months of kick lines.”

Steve groaned at the memories. “The tights… and those boots.”

“I rather liked the tights,” Peggy flirted. “Though, the point of my mentioning, is that it took you rather a few months in the field to figure out you could lift a tank, and that became one of your favorite tricks. Give the poor girl some slack.”

“Actually, fitting my entire body behind my shield was one of my favorites.”

“I still don’t know how you do that.” She sighed. “But it is quite a trick.”

“She is getting the hang of it,” Steve relented. “It’s just been… hard.”

“I can hear the weariness in your voice.” She was soft and gentle. Steve closed his eyes and pretended he was wrapping himself around her. “Have you been taking care of yourself?” She sighed when he didn’t answer. “Steve…”

“I don’t know how…” he drifted off, changing course mid-sentence. “I’m tired, Peg. I’m tired of fighting and running but that’s… that’s all that’s left.” He rolled to his back, throwing his free arm over his head, some of the plaster of the wall of the old boarding house falling on his forehead. He wiped it away with a heavy groan of frustration. “Back then, I had so many plans. After the war…”

“We shan’t be going there, darling.” Her voice left no room for argument.

He was quiet for a moment, the emotion boiling up in him. When he finally spoke, his words were soft. “I miss you. I miss you so, so much.”

The pause was almost too long, and it broke him just a little bit more. “I’m here, Steve. Only a phone call away.”

He sat up, frustrated. “For a little while I had it- I had everything. I had you, I had Buck, I had new friends, and I could… I was…”

“You were almost happy,” she whispered. “We’ve said these words too many times.”

“I don’t…” He took a deep breath and let his head fall to his hand. “I don’t know how to move past it. I can pretend I’m ok, but… but I’m not.” He laughed to himself. “I wouldn’t be calling you if I were ok.”

“I’m here for you, Steve,” she replied sharply. “You call me when you need to call me, when you want to call me. Good or bad. I just wish… I wish there was more good.”

“Me, too.” He cleared his throat, sitting up. “Tell me something good, Peg.”

He thought he could hear a smile in her voice. “Pulling yourself up by your bootstraps, eh, Rogers? Well, then, I can tell you that yesterday I came across a very silly video of a sneezing baby Panda and no matter what your mood, I promise you’ll feel better if you watch it.”

He pulled the phone away from his cheek when it vibrated in his hand, the video popping up on his screen. He laughed, despite himself.

“You always know exactly what I need,” he mumbled out loud.

Her chuckle was soft, just like he remembered. “Lucky, I guess.”

“I love you so, so much, Peg.” He turned serious. “I wish… I wish I could see you.”

“I love you, too, my darling.” She replied softly. “And I’m only ever just a phone call away.”

He could feel the familiar pangs of depression swirling, and knew talking longer would do him no good. Not tonight. “I should… I should go.”

“Good night then, my love.” Peggy’s words were so full of love he could scarcely believe it. “Don’t wait too long to call again.”

He didn’t answer her, just nodded to himself. “Good night, Peg.”

He pulled the phone away from his ear, looked at it, and tossed it across the bed. Like his letters to Bucky, sometimes he felt worse after talking with her. He laid back on the bed, the springs creaking under him.

He wasn’t going to sleep tonight, not with the way his gut was roiling and the loss so close to the surface. Her voice was always a double-edged sword. Some nights, it was enough to bring him back to life, to remind him of whatever little purpose he felt he had left.

Sometimes, it was only filled with loss and the could-have-beens and should-have-beens.

Sometimes, he wished Tony had never given her back to him.

~*~ 1988

“Anthony, get this blasted thing out of my face.”

“Come on, Aunt Peg, no one is better at telling me what to do than you are.”

Peggy looked up from where she sat at the table in what was supposed to be a dining room, but was often used as an extended work space when Peggy and Howard had to pull long nights. “Under no circumstances.”

Tony pulled a chair up next to her and held out the tape recorder towards her. “Under all circumstances.” He started ticking it off on his fingers. “When I almost blew up the garage when I was eight. First time I got caught with a girl in my room. First time I got caught with booze in my room. First time I tried to create a jet pack. Who yelled at me? You did.”

Peggy pursed her lips at him and turned in her chair. “Concerned correction.”

He smiled, shrugging. “See? Concern, correction… all things I’m going to need in the future.”

Peggy swiveled back and picked up a file, eyes firmly set on the writing though she wasn’t reading anything. “Things you need now.” She didn’t look up. “Can’t you go badger Jarvis? Edwin has far more practice at humoring you.”

He laughed and smiled sweetly, moving the tape recorder in front of her. “Indulge your Godson in an experiment?”

“I seem to indulge you Starks far more than I’d like.” She leaned back in the chair and tossed the file back on the table. “Tell me about it.”

“Well, you see, I actually need you to tell me…”

~*~ 2014

Tony hadn’t looked at these cartridges in years. He pulled FRIDAY up and loaded her, knowing the program would make do for now. He could make some upgrades, and mourn Jarvis, later.

He ran his fingers over the last few cartridges as FRIDAY was integrated into his systems and found one that he hadn’t thought about in decades. It had been so long that the ink was almost faded completely away.

He didn’t need the label to remind him what was on there. He remembered each story, each lesson, each crisp English word with a sharpness that he liked to pretend didn’t exist. It was the only AI that was as old as Jarvis.

Tony laughed out loud. There was no way Ultron would have come to be if this was the AI he’d chosen to run his life with instead of Jarvis. She never would have allowed it.

She never would have allowed half of his shenanigans. She had been right all those years ago: Jarvis had always indulged him more. Aunt Peggy had no qualms about telling him, and often stopping him, when he was about to do something stupid, whereas Jarvis would give him an exasperated sir and follow behind, helping to clean up the mess.

He could have used some of her guidance so, so many times since he built that armor. Before, too, to be honest. He should have revisited her AI years ago.

He should visit her in the nursing home.

He knew exactly why he didn’t.  

He flipped the cartridge onto his work desk and slid the rest back into their box to be stored. Save the world first, tongue lashing from his Godmother second.

~*~ 2015

The icon showed up on his phone one day without explanation. Two hours later the text from Tony was nearly as mysterious.

Click the icon and you’ll be routed to an update on an old project, kind of like a phone call. Totally sanctioned, of course. I think she’ll get a kick out of it.

When he told her one day in the nursing home, she laughed.

“That boy had me record hours and hours of tape,” Peggy smiled. “I wondered if he ever got around to making it. I would have rather liked to have another one of myself around while I was still running SHIELD.”

“So, you did know,” Steve asked, “that Tony made an AI of you?”

Peggy looked at him, her eyes sharp and disapproving. “Of course, I knew. And while I didn’t ever say it, I was quite insulted that he eventually chose Jarvis over me.” She sat up in her hospital bed, gray hair falling in waves around her face. “Dial it up, let’s see what he got right, shall we?”

~*~ 2016

He was still in his suit and tie, his cheeks puffy with the tears he only let himself shed in the privacy of his hotel room. The church had been hard, but letting the coffin settle into the cold dirt had been harder.

She was gone.

And he was alone.

He picked up his phone, intent on checking his flight for the morning when an icon he scrolled past daily caught his eye.

He rubbed his thumb over the edge of the screen, temped.

He checked his flight, but it was perfunctory and he couldn’t recall, by the time his thumb hit the other icon, if it was still on time or not.

Slowly he lifted the phone to his ear. He knew from the few times he’d called at the nursing home with her that there wouldn’t be a ring tone, and that he had to be the first one to talk. “Hello?”

“Steve?”

Her voice through the line was young and vibrant, the way her remembered it from all those years back: red rimmed lips and bright eyes in just the vibration of sound.

He lost his breath.

“I’m so glad you called,” her voice was happy, bright.

He’d just left her in the ground, and yet…

Yet…

“Peggy.” He barely got the word out, the emotion choking him.

“Are you alright, Steve?”

“No, I…” he couldn’t speak. He didn’t want to continue, but couldn’t tear himself away.

“I’m right here, Steve.” Her voice was warm and welcoming, like honey and home and everything he was missing. “Tell me when you’re ready.”

He was quiet for a moment. He contemplated hanging up and deleting the icon.

Instead, he spoke, his words broken and full of loss. “I miss you.”

Her voice wrapped around him through the phone, “And I miss you, darling. But I’m right here. I’m just a phone call away, any time you like.”

He nearly laughed the way her words warmed him. She was so real- had always been every time he talked to the AI.

But she wasn’t real- just an amalgamation of information Tony had stored for decades.

He held the phone away for a second, contemplating his choices. He wanted to walk away, but the loss was still so raw. He pulled the phone back to his ear.

Just for today.

He told himself he’d pretend just for today.

Over the phone, he could pretend she wasn’t dead. Could pretend she hadn’t aged and lived on without him.

Just for today, just until he could get past this pain, he could pretend.

“I guess,” he cleared his throat, trying to banish the thickness in it from the tears, “I guess I should call more often, then.”

“Absolutely. I will accept nothing less, Captain.”

He smiled and sat on the bed, tears falling from his eyes as he listened to her voice.

It was just for today.  

~*~ End Notes: Saved this to the end to avoid giving this away. Deeply inspired by Hayley Atwell’s episode of Black Mirror, “Be Right Back.” If you haven’t seen it, you should.

#Steggy Fic #Angst #Steggy Bingo Bash #3P's Fic #Steggy #Cannon character death #fulfills the fake dating prompt only if you squint #but I couldn't get the idea out of my head

[captainscanadian]

Love Me Blue | Bucky Barnes x Reader (Vaaranam Aayiram)

MY MASTERLIST

Series Masterlist

Summary: This night was surely a dream come true. 

Word Count: 2000+

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Tamilian!Hindu!Reader, Sam Wilson

Warnings: References to Hinduism, Death, PTSD, Civil War & Endgame References.

A/N: This is my entry for @bucky-smiles​‘s 3K Diversity Writing Challenge! My prompt was to write a fic with a Hindu reader. I decided to write this fic with a Tamilian reader because I am Tamilian. I was born in Sri Lanka and my mother’s side of the family are Hindu. Although I consider myself an agnostic theist, I do enjoy reading the epics of Mahabharata and Ramayana. Pic from Pinterest! <3 Divider by @whimsicalrogers​!

Back in the 1940s, Bucky had always made it a habit to check out the Stark Expo. Having been interested in the sciences from a very young age, he had often been rather fascinated by the genius of Howard Stark - at least, until things had taken a turn for the worst once he had joined the war. He still remembered the last Stark Expo he had attended. It had been the night before he was to be shipping out to England for the war, and he had dragged Steve out to celebrate; he had also invited two girls to be their dates. 

Seeing Howard Stark present a prototype of a flying car that night had been quite the surreal experience. Sure, the Barnes family had been wealthy enough to own a car during the Great Depression and all. But nothing could ever live up to the sheer excitement of witnessing a flying car.  

Well, almost nothing. 

“You never mentioned that you could drive a flying car…” The man teased as he saw you enter the pocket park after parking Lola. 

“You never asked.” You responded, a cheeky grin plastered across your lips as you made your way over to him. 

“Well, aren’t you full of surprises?” 

“Me?” You quirked your eyebrow at his words. “Are you seriously telling me that I’m the one who’s full of surprises? You’ve been full of surprises all day, Bucky.”

“Guilty as charged.” Bucky beamed, stepping over to kiss you on your cheek. “You look lovely, Y/N. Let me guess, a new dress?”

That cheeky bastard. 

“You don’t look so bad yourself.” You commented, having noticed that he had finally managed to cut his hair off, and he was dressed in the finest velvet suit that matched the blue of your dress. “I’ve got to admit. You clean up really nice.” 

“I’m glad you could make it.” He told you once he pulled back. “Welcome to the Stork Club.” 

You could not help but let out a soft giggle at that. When Sam had told you to ‘follow the music’, you had not understood what he must have meant at first. But it hadn’t taken you that long to realize that Bucky had referred to the music that had always been playing in your heart. You had followed your heart, and it had led you right towards Paley Park. 

“So, this is where the playboys of the 40s used to dance the nights away, huh?” You asked him as you stepped towards him, gently throwing your arms over his neck as you took it all in. 

It was a rather warm summer’s night, and New York City was as busy as ever. But with the noise cancelling atmosphere in this pocket park, you somehow felt at ease. It felt as though you were standing on a piece of history, as the Stork Club had been one of the famous clubs during the time of the Great Depression and the years that followed. But being here with Bucky was the most surreal experience of all. Perhaps this was how calming Radha had felt when she followed Krishna’s music out to the forest - calm, relaxed, and madly in love with the man who had led her there. 

“Yeah, this is it.” Bucky responded with a chuckle, his metal hand resting on your hip while his other hand moved to tuck a loose strand of your hair behind your ear. “So, may I have this dance?” 

And so, the two of you had danced the night away, under the stars in a rather tiny pocket park in Manhattan, to the music that played in your hearts. While it was not the most romantic first date out there, it was more than enough for the two of you. You had to have your own Rasleela with the man you had fallen in love with, and Bucky had finally taken a girl out to dance as he did during the 1940s. 

The two of you returned to the compound just around midnight, having strolled around Manhattan for a little longer, and taking in how busy it was in the city that never sleeps. Bucky had spent most of the night spitting out historical facts about the multiple buildings you’d walked past, and you could not help but admire the fact that you were indeed on a date with a historical figure.  

If Natasha were alive right now, you were sure that she would have teased you about your obsession with history, and how it had caused you to date the man you had written your thesis on. Perhaps if the rest of the team found out about it, they too would refuse to pass up the chance to pull your leg about it. 

Thankfully, by the time you had returned, they were all asleep. It was just you and Bucky, alone in the common kitchen, just like the many nights you had shared together before. But this time, it was not because you could not sleep through the night. It was because you did not want to sleep, or accept the fact that this night had to come to an end somehow. 

Once this night ended, you knew that you had to return to reality. The reality of leading the Avengers until Nick Fury decides to return and free you from your duties; whether he was returning was still a doubt. 

The reality was also working with the newly established GRC to deal with the many individuals who had been displaced due to the Blip. While diplomacy had always been your first choice in your career, it was safe to say that you were starting to enjoy working amongst the earth’s mightiest heroes once again. 

And speaking of diplomacy, there was something else that you really needed to get off of your chest... something that you had been meaning to tell Bucky for a while now. 

“I wish my father could see me right now.” You told him with a sigh as the two of you snuck into the common kitchen to finish up some of your leftover dosa batter. “I wish my father could see that I’ve managed to make a life for myself after he left me.” 

Bucky nodded as he sighed, understanding all too well about the loss you had been dealing with. “I’m sure your father’s watching you from wherever he is, and he’s proud of you for being the best boss lady the Avengers have ever seen.” Mixing up the batter as you wait for the pan to heat up.

You could not help but chuckle at that. “It’s funny how you say that.” Seriously, it was ironic. 

“Do you miss him a lot?”

You nodded. “Yeah, I do. I miss him… every day. He wasn’t just my father, you know? He was my role model, my mentor. I looked up to him. I wanted to be like him.”

“How did he pass?” He asked. “If you wouldn’t mind me asking…” There was a slight hesitancy that he noticed when you turned your head away from him for a moment, and he could not help but wonder why. 

Sam had mentioned to him that your last mission with the Avengers had been in Lagos, and that you had left the compound soon after, as your father had passed away around that time. 

“The bombing in Vienna.” You muttered, feeling your eyes glaze over as you remembered that dreadful day. 

It did not take that long for Bucky to put two and two together. He was well aware that your father had been a diplomat, so it made sense that he would have been at the United Nations conference to sign the Sokovia Accords when the bomb had gone off. “I… I’m so sorry, Y/N. I didn’t know...” He told you as he frowned, now understanding why you had given your kind regards to the Wakandan royal family. 

It was for the role they had played in putting Zemo behind bars.

“N-No, Bucky… it wasn’t your fault.” You told him with a sigh, leaning over to wrap your arms around his neck. “It wasn’t your fault. I know that now.”

That last statement almost came out as a whisper. After all, you had blamed him for your father's death, along with the rest of the world that had accused him of bombing the United Nations conference. Hell, you had even fought with Steve because of it. It was a time you did not want to recall, as you now knew that you were in the wrong. 

“You thought I killed your father, didn’t you?” He asked you, his eyes glazing over as he remembered those days. Although Shuri and her team had managed to remove HYDRA’s programming from his mind, all of the memories, the trauma and the guilt were very much there for him; he was yet to start working on them. 

You could not help but nod in response to his question. “I did. I… I didn’t know then that I had been wrong about you. Steve and I… we were close. I was one of the first people he befriended after coming out of the ice. Every mission, every battle he fought… I was there every single time to fight alongside him. Even when Steve opposed the Accords, I agreed with him. I was even willing to go against my own father. Hell, I even tried to talk him out of signing. I tried to stop him from going to Vienna, but he wouldn’t listen. He…”

Bucky wrapped his arms tightly around you as he let out a sigh. “So, is that why you left? Because opposing the Accords had cost you your father’s life?”

You nodded as you rested your head against his shoulder, letting out a sigh as you accepted his comfort. “Yeah, I did. I left because I didn’t see a point in fighting anymore. I couldn’t do it, not when my father was dead. I felt like it was my fault. I could have tried harder to talk him out of it. I could have stopped him from going to Vienna, but I didn’t… and now he’s dead.” You explained. “I never even got to say goodbye to him.” 

He continued to hold you for a moment as you cried, knowing that you must have been holding onto this guilt for several years now. If anything, he understood that guilt himself. “It wasn’t your fault, Y/N.” He told you once he pulled back from the embrace, his thumbs brushing off your tears.  

Wiping away the remainder of your tears, you turned over to pour the dosa batter in the pan. “Yeah, well… that makes two of us.” 

He wrapped his arms around you once again, resting his chin against your shoulder. “If it wasn’t my fault, it wasn’t your fault either, okay?” 

You nodded. “Yeah…” You agreed, for you knew that he was right. “You know, for the longest time, I believed that you were the guy who killed my father, that you were the reason why I fought with Steve, that you were the reason why my life as I knew it was gone…” You admitted, grabbing the oil and drizzling it in the pan. “But now I know that I got to know you, I know that you’re… you’re not who HYDRA had made you out to be. Under all of that brainwashing and… pain, you’re a really nice guy, Bucky. You’re kind and thoughtful. You’re…” 

“The Krishna to your Radha?” Bucky cut you off with a soft chuckle, his metal hand rubbing up and down your arms.  

You nodded as you laughed. “Yeah, that you are.” You admitted, not just to him but also to yourself. 

Eventually, that night did come to an end. After all, the two of you were exhausted from your date and having stuffed yourselves with a late night snack, it was only fair to retreat to your respective living quarters. 

It was the first night in a while that Bucky Barnes was able to sleep in his own bed without any nightmares, as he was now dreaming of the life he would get to live with you. 

You had  a dream that night too. A dream that Andal had described that she had of when Lord Krishna had come to marry her:  

Vaaranam aayiram soozha valam vandhu,

Naarana Nambi nadakkindraan yendredhir,

Poorana pokudam vaithu, puramengum,

Thoranam naatta kana kanden thozhi, naan. 

The only difference was that it wasn’t Krishna who had come to marry you in your dreams. 

It was Bucky. 

#3kdiversity #aj writes #love me blue #vaaranam aayiram #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x desi!reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes series #desi au

[kashimos-hajime]

dear... whoever | b.b.

summary: a mandated series of long and short diary entries from the new head of R&D for Stark Industries. 

WARNINGS: swearing, LOTS of fluff, mentions of drinking and sex and hospitals and guns, general fun and witty attitude, small angst, big jealousy, obviously au after civil war. everything after does not exist. pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader word count: 9.5k

a/n: written for @softbiker​ and 100% inspired by @sunmoonandbucky​ with the format. my prompt was let me love you by rita ora and i wrote it from the perspective the singer is singing it to rather than the actual singer. this was super fun to write. enjoy!

July 31/20

Dear…

Whoever is going to read this. So… me, in the future probably. So, it should be dear WHOMever, I think, but it sounds wrong.

Is it too cliché to say dear diary? I don’t know. After all, I don’t WANT to be writing this but unfortunately I am because it’s mandated. Apparently, the psychiatrist that works for Stark Industries thinks it’s necessary that I write down my feelings and show that I’ve adjusted to working part-time superhero, full-time head of Tony’s stupid R&D department.

Something about how that much stress can cause psychotic fractures in the worst case scenario.

Cute.

Anyway, I don’t know what to write. Currently, it’s 4:23AM. The only reason I’m awake is because I have trouble sleeping on the best night. I heard Barnes messing about and because I am the Hermit of the Rec Room Couch (catchy, I know), I can hear him just walking about.

What the hell is he even doing?

To be honest, I’ve never talked to Barnes besides the occasional greetings because he’s the sort to keep to himself, I guess, and, valid. I’m not saying it’s not, considering his history, but you know.

I think I’m a friendly person, and I’m bored. He’s eventually going to hear me writing noisily because of super-soldier hearing or whatever, so I might just get up and introduce myself.

Not that I’ve been working here for years, but whatever.

I’m really bored and hungry, honestly, so a trip to the kitchen would be considered normal (and warranted) in such circumstances.

Fuck it.

Time to make a new friend or die trying. If you never hear from me again, you’ll know why.

.

Aug. 1/20

Dear Jane,

I finally got the time to write in here and you may be wondering why I have named you. Well, after the conversation at roughly 4:30 AM, here are things that’ve changed in a disorganized list. None is more important than the other. I'm just writing what comes to my head.

One: Barnes said he doesn’t really let anyone call him James. I called him James once because I forgot. Profuse apologies followed. He said it was okay and didn’t mind me calling him that. Now, in my mind, I think he’s just saying this to be polite and really just wants me to call him Bucky but he seemed sincere. We’ll see how it goes.

Two: Barnes was awake because his cat woke him up. I didn’t even know he had a cat but it’s a gorgeous white cat named Alpine that Barnes carries around in his half-zipped up hoodies sometimes. It’s adorable. He’s super soft and friendly and I love him already. He showed me all the tricks Alpine could do. Amazing.

Three: Barnes’ favourite movie is the Godfather. Totally surprising there. Please tell me you understand sarcasm.

Four: He said he liked the name Jane when I told him what I was doing up and also in the rec room (couldn’t sleep, writing in my diary) and that I didn’t want to say “Dear diary”

“Why don’t you just give it a name?” he eloquently suggested and Jane was his answer to my question of “Which name?”

Five: Barnes, or James, I guess he is now, is my friend.

Six: We said we’d meet up at 4:30AM or earlier again because I told him I wanted to show him my s’mores dip recipe.

Seven: Wish me luck. Hope I don’t get murdered.

Eight: I think I might be in love with him.

Bye.

.

Aug. 5/20

Dear Jane,

In an effort to summarize what has happened in the past four days, I will open with the fact that James Buchana Barnes is the cutest motherfucker on the planet. He’s super old fashioned, but that’s a given. He opens the doors for me, offers to take my bags up, and in the past four days, we’ve met up at around midnight to just eat and chat. Then he walks me back to my room with a glass of water and I’m left fanning myself because it’s so sweet and he’s so sweet and OH, MY GOD, I am a child.

This feels like a crush. Like, butterflies in my stomach, self-conscious every time he looks at me, can’t stop staring, and wanting to impress him at every turn sort of crush.

AKA, a middle-school crush and I feel completely ridiculous but that is besides the point because he’s just the loveliest person.

Someone should tell him chivalry is dead. Steve thinks he’s just being sweet on me, and Sam says I should flash some ass just to get a rise out of him which would be funny. He’d look absolutely adorable blushing his head off.

We’ll see. I am considering it.

What else happened? I’m drawing a huge blank.

As explained in a previous entry, I was to show Barnes my s’mores dip recipe. Huge success. Crowd loved it. That’s how I learned he has a huge sweet tooth like me. Got an email from Pep about a board meeting which I ignored. If it’s really important, she’ll see me in person. Went swimming with Sam. We started planning Tony’s big Christmas party even though that’s MONTHS away.

But, you know. We’re so busy all the time, it might be worth it planning ahead.

As head of R&D, it’s vital to me that this goes well because they’re fun when they do go well, and a chaotic disaster when they don’t. Also, I have to find a date but details will follow.

I think that’s it.

If there’s more to follow, then I’ll just come back but there really isn’t.

Oh, Alpine found my room. He’s in here right now and he snores. It’s cute, just like his owner.

Okay, goodnight.

.

Aug. 7/20

Dear Jane,

Sam, James, and I went swimming.

Pro of the day: James is ripped and that man was GLISTENING.

Con of the day: I AM STUPID in front of hot ripped men.

Pro of the day: We got ice cream together. Strawberry for me, mango for James because he wants to try new flavours, and Sam ordered some monstrosity with vanilla ice cream, chocolate and raspberry syrups, and a bunch of banana slices. A swirl of whipped cream to finish it off. It looked like diabetes in a cup and that’s coming from me.

Con of the day: James used his thumb to wipe the ice cream off my lip and my brain short-circuited. Sam teased us about it, but James very stubbornly and convincingly said we’re just friends.

Con of the day x2: We are just friends and that is NOT going to change. I cannot explain how much my heart literally fell out of my body in disappointment.

God, and James and I are meeting up at 2AM tonight so he can show me this new stupid stuffed celerey recipe he learned.

It’s not stupid.

It’s really, REALLY cute he researched it.

This sucks.

.

Aug. 11/20

The worst day ever. I don’t want to talk about it but might as well make a note on it. More on it later, I guess.

.

Aug. 15/20

Dear Jane,

Sorry, I’m dramatic. Must get it from working with Tony for so many years.

Let’s just review what occurred on August 11, 2020, at approximately 3:23 in the afternoon.

I learned that James went out on a date. A DATE. From SAM. When James had ample opportunity to tell me at our regular meeting at witching hour over celery sticks.

EXCUSE ME? WHO IS THIS WOMAN?

I’m not even mad. I’m just angry that the man I became friends with only 2 weeks ago and caught feelings immediately for is seeing other people.

I sound like a raging bitch. I promise you, Jane, that I am not. I’m just the insanely jealous type.

No, I’m not.

God, what is happening to me and why does it have to be James.

I never get crushes and the instant I do, it’s for the most emotionally and physically unavailable person ON EARTH.

Also, work was work. I was distracted, drank soup from the canteen, and generally accomplished nothing. Alpine came for some snuggles while James was out. That’s the only good thing.

Thanks, universe.

.

Aug. 16/20

Dear Jane,

So, I brought up this mystery lady over homemade sundaes.

James seems pretty serious about her because he a) apologized for not telling because he wanted to keep it private and asked me not to tell anyone and b) has a second date with her later today.

Oh, GOD. There is no point to this.

.

Aug. 19/20

Dear Jane,

What’s the point of asking someone intimate, personal questions if not because you guys are best friends?

James called me his best friend today. He says he knows me, but if he did, he’d know I feel like throwing up whenever he’s around and that his stare burns through every layer of clothing until I feel like he just knows my secret.

I told him we’ve known each other less than a month, but he said something stupidly charming about “intuition” and feeling and that this feels right and how he knows he can tell me anything and that I was an easy person to talk to.

I should’ve been a shrink.

At least, my trip to Wakanda is going to give me distance. A solid two months of no one else but me, tech, and new faces. Going there to collaborate with Shuri is definitely exciting and taking up more space in my brain than James these days.

Maybe I’ll fall in love with some soldier over there because apparently, I’m catching feelings willy-nilly these days.

See you on the plane, Jane.

.

Aug. 23/20

Dear Jane,

On the quinjet, it’s fairly quiet. It’s one of the things I love about it. The silent yet soft engines that can lull me to sleep. We should be arriving in a few hours so I thought I’d write. I’m getting the hang of this, I think.

There's a press conference later, too, in the trip with the UN and it’s not that I can’t handle it, but that I could’ve done this in my sleep and wished Tony sent someone else. I hate the press, not gonna lie.

Anyway, this gives me time to be introspective.

Is it just me or James always Okay, is it just my imagination that whenever I try to get close to James, he just kinda pulls away? Not in a romantic way. I’m not stealing anyone’s man because girl code, but he won’t even let me just stand near him anymore. It’s like I have an infectious disease only transmitted through physical contact and it’s just weird.

I don’t know.

Before I left, he said he’d miss me and that we should keep in touch through calls (Obviously, I would) and that he hopes I won’t forget him.

So, you say those things but you won’t even let me even hug you?

You’re a manipulative asshole, Barnes.

.

Oct. 20/20

Dear Jane,

I am so sorry that it has taken so long for us to reunite.

In hindsight, I’m a fucking idiot.

I left you on the quinjet which went back to New York and a different quinjet came to pick me up. I came back like two days ago so these past few days have been spent searching for you.

James offered to help, and he seems normal again.

Weird. Guess he was just in a mood with the new girlfriend and adjusting to having me as a friend, too. Guys go through that, I guess.

In Wakanda, I did not, in fact, fall in love with a soldier or anything. I curse every day that I didn’t, trust me. I’m just as disappointed as you are because I just want to get over this stupid crush. For the two months I was gone, it was like I didn’t like James at all like that. Even during calls, I could pretend we were just two teammates keeping each other in the loop. He talked about his girlfriend, I listened, I explained science because he’s a nerd, and he asked questions like he was interested.

It was FINE.

Then, he was waiting for me when I came back to NYC and it slammed into me like Bruce in Hulk-mode.

James asked if I wanted to meet his girlfriend because she’d be coming around for the Halloween party anyway, and he thinks we’ll get along swimmingly.

He really said swimmingly. He is stuck in the wrong era, but we all knew that.

I said yes, to be polite.

Here’s to hoping she’s a vindictive bitch and I am justified in hating her entire being.

.

Oct. 22/20

Dear Jane,

I met her. She’s small and pretty and mature and normal.

If I wasn’t stupidly in my feelings about James, I’d love her, too. 

She’d treat him right, give him a good home to come back to.

Best not to notice the people fighting beside you in that way, I guess.

.

Oct. 25/20

Dear Jane,

God is dead and NO ONE has eyes on the road.

Jesus isn’t even taking the wheel on this one.

It’s a fucking disaster.

I do not want to describe in every little detail the intricacies of dreaming about James Buchanan Barnes fucking my brains out, so I won’t, but this is for the record that it happened and how the fuck am I supposed to come back and see him in his probably gorgeous attempt at his recreation of Brendan Fraser from the Mummy AKA my favourite movie (which HE KNOWS THAT IT IS?? GOD, the audacity.)

Girlfriend (his girlfriend. “Girlfriend” is the name which she shall be henceforth known as in these entries because petty wins are all I have right now) is dressing as Rachel Weisz. Because “couples goals” or whatever.

I wouldn’t know. Sam and I are dressed up as sexy salt and pepper shakers (his idea, not mine) and he made me take the salt stick because I think he knows. Steve’s not dressing up because he’s more focused on handing out candy as Captain America.

Tony is… Tony. Iron Man and all that.

Anyway, I’m out of town in DC for a meeting with the Secretary of State for a few days, but I’ll be back in New York on the 30th so I’ll have a few hours to adjust to being around James again before he dons on that outfit that I know will be totally hot.

He called me his best friend again in his latest email.

Made me smile like an idiot, but I digress.

.

Nov. 1/20

Dear Jane,

Halloween was killer. Sam and I won best duo for costumes because we’re that good. Ate a lot of candy and it seems to be looking up.

I dunno. I didn’t mind James and Girlfriend on the couch that much in the after-party. Mostly stuck by Nat and Sharon and Tony. An ood trio, but a fun one nonetheless.

It was fun, but I still have to go to work no matter how many jello shots and vodka gummy bears consumed.

Wish me luck, not that I need it.

Why do you think Tony hired me?

.

Nov. 4/20

Dear Jane.

Natasha said I smile at James in a way that utterly betrays every emotion I want to hide in my chest.

Note to self: Don’t smile at James, or at his jokes, or at anything he ever does again. Avoid him. Put a stopper on this friendship.

Note to note to self: I can’t. He just makes me smile whenever he’s around and he’s always around. There’s no simpler way to put it.

I’m gonna try this hiatus thing, though. Distance myself a bit. We’ll see how it goes.

.

Nov. 13/20

Dear Jane,

Day nine of this hiatus business and it sucks. I miss my best friend.

We’re scheduled for a mission together, and we’re leaving tomorrow so I was going to have to talk to him during the briefing and the op either way.

Well, glad to know this didn’t work.

.

Nov. 15/20

Dear Jane,

Guess who just got fucking shot!

ME!

Guess even scumbags can’t take a holiday because some stupid arms dealer got a cheap shot on me while I was downloading their whole computer system and other tech mumbo-jumbo I am too high to write about.

James left a few hours ago with the rest of the team, but not before he got me a bunch of ice chips and said he was worried and that he hopes I get better soon. He even promised to get me some flowers to spruce up the room and to say my HEART went CRAZY is an understatement.

He came to my rescue, essentially, as soon as he heard I got pinned. He carried me to the quinjet the instant he cleared the area and stayed by my side the whole time even though the bleeding stopped and I was in good hands. He was just so protective, barking at doctors and nurses. It was embarrassing but also really, really sweet.

Is it weird of me to say that I want him to stay by my side forever? 

I’ve never fallen in love before.

Is it always this fast and this hard? I feel like I’m crashing instead of gently and wonderfully falling. Everything is dumb and awful.

Is this what love is like? Because it hurts worse than getting shot because I think I’m going to vomit flowers or butterflies or something.

God, he’d never love me. We’re just friends and even though we have a lot in common, he’d never. It’s just too much of the past in the present or whatever.

Also, he has a girlfriend but it seems very surface-level. God, that makes me sound like a “one of the boys” type of girl who’s a bitch to one of the boy’s new girlfriends, but I don’t know. James told me they don’t really talk about the deep stuff like we do. But she makes him happy, I think.

In hindsight, one may ask what the deep stuff is.

More on that later. I’m tired.

God, why him?

I HATE THIS.

goodnight.

.

Nov. 16/20

Dear Jane,

James visited again today. He sat beside me and we talked until the nurses had to kick him out. He also brought the flowers.

I asked about Girlfriend casually. I said I liked her.

He said he did, too.

I don’t know why I think he’s lying. No, I do.

It’s because jealousy is the green-eyed bitch from highschool who still shows up in my life because she thinks she’s relevant to society.

That was mean. Unrequited love makes you mean. Side effect noted.

P.S. The deep stuff includes his past, his arm, his memory, his favourite colour. I dunno why that matters. It just does.

.

Nov. 17/20

Dear Jane,

Got out of the hospital today because of advanced technology and all that. Nothing’s left but a scar and residual soreness. James helped me to my room and said to call him if I had a problem.

I joked that he has a girlfriend and for some reason, he got really weird about it. It’s hard to describe. I dunno. Nat dropped by for popcorn and movies.

It’s 2:32AM. I’m wondering if he’s in the kitchen but I’m confined to bed rest so I don’t know. Also, Nat is asleep beside me and I don’t want to bother her.

Hopefully I can get up and move in a few days. Life is boring.

.

Nov. 24/20

Dear Jane,

Sorry we haven’t caught up in a moment. Work’s been hectic and I’ve been working overtime trying to make ends meet. Most days I’m in the office or lab, just trying to get enough things done so I can take time off come Christmas.

James stopped by tonight with Chinese takeout and some sweet buns.

He broke up with his girlfriend, too.

Guess that’s why he was being weird about it.

I tried being as casual as I could asking why, but he didn’t want to talk about it, so I asked why he came by. Couldn’t be for the company because when I’m in work mode, I just don’t talk and he knows that.

He said something about his arm feeling funny so I gave it a quick diagnostics check.

I think both of us knew his arm was feeling fine.

Everything is stupid, life is meaningless, and James’ lips are the prettiest shade of pink in the ugly lights of the lab.

I would very much like to have kissed him, but I didn’t.

Girl code.

It’ll probably be a while before I get another chance to actually have time and energy to write another diary entry. Christmas season’s coming close and Pepper is gonna need help with the party.

Yay, me.

.

Dec. 4/20

Dear Jane,

Morgan asked me in less eloquent words if I had a boyfriend (it was more like “You boyfriend?” But whatever. Who even taught her that word?) and I swear to GOD Nat could not make it anymore obvious looking at James.

Remind me to absolutely throttle her. I don’t care if she’s the infamous Black Widow. She has clearly never seen me hopped up on nothing but a negative amount of sleep and rage/embarrassment/spite/all of the above.

On another note, Pep asked if I was bringing a plus one for the party. I said I’d think about it. Normally I’d just take Sam but he has his eyes on someone at the VA and I like my friends getting laid so no go there.

Might just go alone. I don’t know.

Pep said I should take James, but I don’t really think she knows the truth about that situation. Luckily, Tony instantly rejected the idea and said he’d find me a date if I couldn’t.

Thank the universe for at least placing me in the close circle of the most well-known and richest man in the world because he also gave me his card and said go wild.

He knows me so well. I’m thinking about Christmas shopping when I have another free day, and I’ll pay for that with my own money, of course, but clothes shopping is a free market.

I cannot wait.

.

Dec. 12/20

Dear Jane,

I wish I could show you my haul, but I got so much stuff Happy had to drive to help me. Besides obvious gifts, I also managed to snag a gorgeous dress for the party.

Thoughts on black and gold?

I think it’s beautiful. Hopefully Nat and Sharon think so. We’re having a girls night tonight and showing off outfits, so that’s exciting.

James asked if we could meet up tonight.

I told him I had plans and he looked so downcast.

I dunno. Everything feels weird between us. Like we’re fine, we’re best friends still, but something’s changed when no one was looking. He’s single now. I guess that energy is different because I had gotten used to his energy with ex-Girlfriend.

I don’t exactly mind but it’s not ideal either. I miss summer. It’s much less complicated than winter. Winter, one has to worry about wind and chills and snows blocking roads, black ice, dry skin, freezing fingers.

Summer: there’s just a lot of sun, wind, bugs, and the vaguest notion of being bored.

Look, I love winter. It’s my favourite season. It’s quiet and gorgeous and dreamy, even though it gets dreary in New York. The snow falls slowly sometimes, Christmas is gorgeous here, and I’d rather be cold than sweating buckets, and there are no bugs to bother me. Also, it gives me a good reason to stay in the labs or in my room where it’s warm and toasty.

I just miss the relative simplicity when James and I were just strangers on the edge of being friends, which is, in retrospect, a selfish reason to like one season and hate another.

Well, some philosopher somewhere probably said something about humanity being selfish.

.

Dec. 16/20

Dear Jane,

T-minus nine days until the party.

No date in sight.

Maybe I’ll ask Anderson from HR. We had coffee together a few times and he’s nice. Good catch: smart, not too bad looking, and really nice. I’ll head down tomorrow and ask.

Alpine had purred when I told him my plan and headbutted my hand, so I guess I got the Alpine-Seal-of-Approval.

.

Dec. 17/20

Dear Jane,

Operation: Ask Anderson from HR to Tony’s Christmas Party failed. Granted, it could’ve been because that was a god awful title and that that name, in itself, prophesied catastrophic failure, but also because I was accosted by my best friend.

I wish I meant Sam.

Nope. James caught me in the elevator and we made small talk. Sounds fine, right? Then we turned the topic to the party. Talked about clothes and prospective celebrity appearances and drinks and food. Just about everything, so might as well turn to talks about dates, which meant I had to explain why I was in the elevator in the first place.

Going down to ask Anderson ended in James revealing that he didn’t have a date either.

He doesn’t know who Anderson is, which I thought would be the case, and he popped the question before the doors opened.

Notice how I said “didn't” have a date.

Guess who’s going to the party with James, clearly stated as friends, platonic soulmates, etc.?

Me.

Yippee.

.

Dec. 18/20

Dear Jane,

It’s 3:42AM and I’m in the rec room as usual. I was gonna not write here today but it normally helps me sleep to just write a bit, get what little thoughts are in my head out. Yeah.

I hear James in the kitchen talking to Alpine and it’s making me smile like an idiot.

Oh, shit, he knows I’m in here. He’s making milkshakes.

I am morally obligated by best friend duties to join him.

Goodnight, Jane.

.

Dec. 24/20

Dear Jane,

I’m not sleeping with James Buchanan Barnes tomorrow night.

This is a resolute promise. An early New Year’s resolution.

.

Dec. 25/20

Dear Jane,

Merry Christmas! 

In between jovial festivities, I’ve finally found a little nook that’s quiet enough to write in. We opened presents, had a big family breakfast, went skating and just lounged around, and frankly, I’m exhausted. Need to recharge the old social battery.

Among the assortment of gifts is one that stands out to me. James got me a gift that said “Open When Alone” and I did before I started this entry and it was a fucking necklace. Like, a gorgeous one. It’s gold and thin and it feels wonderful. There’s a little cat paw charm on it and it’s so pretty because he has a matching bracelet for himself and I have still not yet recovered.

It’s just so sweet and it reminds me why I love him.

Yes, love has made me unbelievably sappy. I just heaved the biggest sigh in history.

Unfortunately, I have to go earlier tonight. To the party, as written in previous entries. I remember my oath of one-night celibacy and I intend on keeping it, despite how fucking endearing this gift was, because he said it best: we’re just friends. I’m not about to coerce my best friend into sleeping with me out of a piteous, unrequited love. That’s just gross.

You will either see me hungover tomorrow, or very drunk later tonight. It’s all very depending on how this night turns out.

.

Dec. 26/20

Dear Jane,

Fuck.

P.S. He REALLY does not mind me calling him James. Take that as dirtily or as clandestinely as you wish.

.

Dec. 27/20

Dear Jane,

I spent the entire day in bed with very pleasurable company.

I am SO GLAD we haven’t gotten called in because James doesn’t leave unless to go to sleep in his own bed or to eat, and I do NOT want to explain to the team that James fucked my brains out for two days straight because my heart is bursting.

He’s a good kisser. His lips are soft.

Intimate knowledge of that is now burned into my memory for future reference.

God, this is a dream come true. He doesn’t even question it, he just

It’s like I’m a goddess to him. He treats me like one, at least, and it’s like he’ll do anything I ask. And we act like it’s normal, too. Midnight trips to the kitchen included.

Best Christmas ever.

.

Dec. 28/20

Dear Jane,

I feel like I’m ignoring you but I’m also having the best sex of my life. He’s just… so fucking good and it’s a holiday and holy shit my mind is blown.

Love at first meeting isn’t real.

Well, maybe this one time, it was destiny.

.

Dec. 29/20

Dear Jane,

It isn’t just the sex, you know? It’s the pillowtalk, too. He just makes me laugh so much and everything is so easy between us and it feels real. Popcorn and chips in bed, some mojitos, just each other’s presence. It’s enough like that, you know?

Some quote about how the one you love should be both your lover and your best friend is in my head but I’m too lazy to look it up. James’ head is in my lap and he’s just reading while I’m writing and everything seems perfect.

He doesn’t ask what I’m writing because he knows it’s private and I trust him.

This is perfect.

I think I really am IN love with him.

.

Jan. 1/21

You know that cliché/tradition of New Year’s kisses?

WELL THEN.

Best (and worst) New Year’s ever. I’ll explain more later. I’m too tired and too angry and also sore and bruised.

See you when I’m not hungover.

.

Jan. 5/21

Dear Jane,

I’m finally stable enough to write.

In a crazy turn of events, Barnes and I got into a fight because of what happened after New Year’s Day’s events: I caught him leaving before I woke up and at first, curious questions ensued, and it wasn’t a fight but then it became one and I don’t even know how it happened. I wasn’t even mad. He just started being weird and I got annoyed and we tried and failed to keep our voices down. Luckily, my room is pretty soundproof.

Things just got out of hand and I feel like tearing my hair out. I wanna storm up to him and just yell some more.

Tony came into my room and didn’t say shit about my hickies and the fact that James is avoiding me like the plague. He gave me a really good hug, though and then gave me a few weeks off extra. I don’t know how he knows, but then again, it’s Tony.

He just said love’s tough sometimes.

Yeah, tell me about it.

I’m thinking about just taking a long vacation and disappearing. It seems like a good route to take at this point.

.

Jan. 6/21

Dear Jane,

James is looking at me right now as I write this. I wonder if I should look back or if he’s going to come up to me. We’ll see.

I’m only writing this so it seems like I’m busy. I’m running out of things to say, honestly. Can he just go? What’s the point in staring like that? What’s the point?

I could ask myself the same question. What’s the point in loving someone who’ll never love you? Yeah, he’s sleeping with me but he pulls away every time I try to do something more. Outside the bubble of my room and the small time frame of post-11PM to around 4:45AM, he acts like he’s allergic to intimacy.

It was never like that with ex-Girlfriend.

Maybe it’s something to do with me.

I don’t know, but he keeps looking and I want to get up and leave, but I won’t. I’m not gonna let him win.

.

Jan. 6/21

He didn’t. He just went out. Sam and Steve asked if I was okay because as soon as he left, I got up for the bathroom and screamed into a towel.

I don’t think either of them knows what’s going on, but they have a notion.

.

Jan. 9/21

Dear Jane,

He apologized. Still no explanation as to why, but it feels weird.

I told him I’m going on a vacation to Switzerland. Go skiing or something and asked if he wanted to come.

It was stupid to ask, but he said yes.

Shit.

.

Jan. 14/21

Dear Jane,

Switzerland is lovely.

No work is relaxing. Awkwardness between me and the other traveller on this vacation. Weather’s supposed to be nice when we get there. Sunny snow days, pretty mountains, other Swiss things.

No other comment.

.

Jan. 21/21

Dear Jane,

I lasted all of a week.

Yep, I slept with him again, and yes, he was back in his hotel bed come sunrise.

I dunno. I’m over it. We don’t apologize and hope everything gets back to normal because neither of us want to say anything to ruin it any further and we both have a major fear of the complicated. To be fair, he said he didn’t want to sleep with me if I was completely against it.

Also, I tried calling him Bucky at dinner like ex-Girlfriend (and everyone else) does and he made the most disgusted face.

He said, and I quote, “Bucky? When did I stop being James?”

I told him I was trying something out and he said it failed. Snarky bastard.

I guess if he’s still James, that must mean I’m still special.

That’s the Tony-inherited ego talking.

But it does make me exceptionally happy to play with the idea that I’m special to him. Best friend with convoluted benefits. Sounds like the title of a very long-winded self-help book that doesn’t really help much but that does sound like the story of my life so I can’t complain too much.

We’re going home in a few days.

I’ll probably sleep with him again. Bet Steve’s shield that I do.

.

Jan. 24/21

Dear Jane,

I get three Steve’s shields because I was right every single fucking day.

He’s like a habit I can’t quite kick and don’t really want to.

We snuggled afterwards last night. His arm was around my shoulders, we were naked, I was resting my head on his chest. For a moment, it felt like something couples do and then I fell asleep and woke up alone.

Quantum physics is easier to understand than this but I think we’re being mutually exclusive right now, so it’s almost dating.

I dunno. I don’t mind it anymore. It’s better than nothing.

.

Feb. 2/21

Dear Jane,

I’m absolutely miserable.

I’m still getting laid, but that’s not related. Correlation and causation or something.

Why is New York so dreary and when can everything just stop?

I don’t know. Winter is ending and now it’s in that awful transition phase between seasons and it’s mucky and rainy and disgusting. Tony got these limited edition ice cream flavours though so I’m gonna ask James if we can make milkshakes out of them or something.

He doesn’t like the muck either. That’s not really relevant, I guess.

.

Feb. 14/21

Dear Jane,

I got flowers and chocolate from the department because I think they can sense I’ve been in a bad mood since forever. Then, there was an anonymous delivery and inside was this gorgeous chain bracelet that matches the necklace sort of. I lied and told the department it was from Pepper.

What a wretched holiday.

Yours truly.

.

Feb. 18/21

Dear Jane,

Normally, when boys get their haircut, they look ugly for a day or two after.

Not James.

He got his hair cut shorter and he looks really good. Like unbelievably good. Short hair fits him just as much as long hair does.

No other observations.

.

Feb. 25/21

Dear Jane,

It was Morgan’s birthday party today. James came in one of those brown jackets with the sheepskin wool inside and he looked so good. We mainly stayed apart to prevent any dalliance because one does not disappear from the Madame Secretary’s birthday party and the team doesn’t really know what’s happening behind the scenes except for Nat and Tony, really.

I really wanted to kiss him in front of our friends. I caught him staring a few times, and every time, the smile seemed to vanish off his face.

I’m lying in bed and it feels pretty empty.

It occurs to me that I’ve been in love for a pretty long time and I’m not even in a relationship with the guy.

Energy could’ve been devoted to so many other things and I’d hate being in love if it weren’t for the fact that it’s James.

Again, love making me sappy and all that.

.

Feb. 28/21

Dear Jane,

Jane is such a common name. Some would call it plain yet it means gift from God.

I wonder if James knew that.

.

Mar. 10/21

Dear Jane,

It’s James’ birthday. Birthday sex is a requirement and a desire. I also got him a gift which is a pair of new black Timbs. I hope he likes them. I’m excited for cake, I guess. Morgan did my makeup but I’m gonna have to wipe it off for the small little party tonight.

I think, ordinarily, I’d be in knots because it’s James’ birthday and I love him and he’s my best friend, but I just don’t know. March is fairly boring and contemplative and rainy. Work is work. Helen Cho did a presentation on her Cradle technology. Very cool.

.

Mar. 20/21

Dear Jane,

It’s raining and doesn’t feel like spring. Alpine vomited on my bed a few days ago because he’s not feeling well. James and I took him to the vet and he’s on antibiotics. Poor boy. He’s sleeping in the corner of my room right now while James is away on a mission. I think I’ll just work from my room for a bit until he’s feeling better.

Nothing much to report, which is why I didn’t write anything. The month passed by too quickly. James should be back by the end of the month. I miss him and not because of the sex. No one else who doesn’t work for me or pays me listens to me ramble on their own free will. Talking to screens just isn’t the same.

.

April 1/21

James got back really early this morning and I, by tradition, was awake. I sort of wish I wasn’t though. In true April Fool’s tradition, I made fun of him for being a day late to which he genuinely apologized. I told him to shower and get to sleep but he was in that mood where you’re so exhausted you’re wide awake.

James suggested we make really strong cocktails for each other as a celebration for an extraction mission completed successfully.

Who am I to say no to celebrating?

He really likes grapefruit juice so I made a REALLY strong Grapefruit Paloma. He made this really interesting drink that was purple and tasted like oranges and cranberries. A lot of blue curacao was in it so it was pretty bitter but it hit like a fucking truck which is probably why I didn’t understand anything he said at first.

He told me he loved me.

I think, somehow, he managed to get drunk after the Grapefruit Paloma and two more bottles of vodka. Don’t ask me how because Steve NEVER gets drunk. Maybe HYDRA-brand serum is faulty? I don’t know.

I asked if he knew what date it was. He laughed really loudly, said no, realized, stuttered apologies and then said it again.

It was the most perfect sound in the world and it was the best moment in recent history.

Or, the sickest practical joke.

Consensus not yet reached.

.

April 2/21

Dear Jane,

I asked if he remembered what happened yesterday morning.

He did not.

Sickest practical joke confirmed.

.

April 9/21

Dear Jane,

I’ve been avoiding writing because I’ve felt a whole lot of nothing. Everything is abysmal and James’ confession is all I can think about. Tony’s on my ass about slipping and he has half the mind to put me on paid leave until I get my shit together, both as the head of the department and as an agent.

Drunk words are sober thoughts, all that garbage.

I wish I could live my whole life drunk and honest. Maybe then I wouldn’t be in this situation where I’m stuck in eternal limbo with my best friend whom I’m in love with. Minus the drunk part.

Duty demands I return to this weathered journal until it’s finished so we’ll see. I might be back this month. Maybe not.

.

May 1/21

Dear Jane,

It rained a lot in April so now the flowers are blooming early. April showers bring May flowers. Guess it has some merit to it.

Limbo sucks. Its inescapable nature, its terrible facade of everything seeming fine when it really isn’t.

Of course, James still makes me smile, but nothing seems really okay when I let myself stop for a second.

I’m going out with Steve to a charity thing tomorrow. Should be a few hours worth of not thinking and free booze. Oh, and James and I made out in one of the quinjets after dinner today.

Felt weird considering we aren’t a couple, but it happened spontaneously as that is the nature of our relationship, it appears.

The cause also happens to be the cure of melancholy. Weird.

.

May 6/21

Dear Jane,

For context, it’s 5:23AM.

Went for a walk in Madison Square and then Central Park with James yesterday, although in my head it’s still today. We met up with Nat for some training at the gym. Got a bit mobbed by fans and the paps who asked if we were dating like we’re the tabloid’s biggest scoop.

We weren’t even holding hands, but I guess it’s just another reason why we shouldn’t be TOGETHER together in public.

We had another deep stuff talk again in bed after the usual business. I wanted to ask what this is between us and if he’s pursuing other options, because I’m not and I wanted to know if I should, but I also didn’t want to ruin the vibe.

He was in a good mood today, and seeing as sometimes he has nightmares, I thought it was best I don’t ruin it. He thinks I don’t notice but how do I not notice? He’s my best friend.

I kissed his cheek when he got up to leave and he kissed me goodbye on the lips.

I guess that means something.

.

May 17/21

Dear Jane,

In a moment of complete boredom, I listened to Imagine Dragons’ new album. It wasn’t too bad, to be honest, but Sharon thought it could’ve been better. Whatever.

.

May 22/21

Dear Jane,

Ran into ex-Girlfriend today. She still has that whole sunshine thing going on still. We had coffee and she asked if I got together with James yet.

I choked on my coffee and nearly died on the spot.

That’s how I learned that James apparently broke it off softly and ex-Girlfriend had, very wisely and knowingly, said that he should chase the apple of his eye before I (the apple) rotted alone and forgotten at the trunk of the tree. Or, as any sane person would say (and ex-Girlfriend DID say), get picked from the tree by another hand.

She said it was quite obvious that I was in love with James even months ago. She also thanked me for being so nice, anyway, and that it must’ve been difficult. What a fucking SAINT.

I set her up with a date with Steve because they have the same energy, honestly, and that’s going down on the 26th barring any emergencies.

Call me Cupid, but I think I just constructed the perfect match made in heaven.

Mentioned this meeting to James minus the apple detail. He asked if she was doing okay, which she was, and seemed glad for that. Between kisses and his sneaking hand beneath the covers, he also asked if there was anything else. Not really much to say on that front.

.

June 3/21

Dear Jane,

It’s starting to dry up consistently, now. It’s getting warmer, too. Sam brought me flowers and told me to at least turn the air-con on if I was gonna be stuck in the lab all day. Oh, the simplicities of summer are hopefully returning. Got out early and hung out with Morgan at the park in the evening.

It’s nice to hang out with someone so blissfully unaware with the stupidity of love. All Morgan cares about is grass and buttercups she grabs from the ground. She doesn’t have to worry about how to tell the guy she’s in love with that she loves him.

Oh, didn’t you hear? Nat said I should just buck the fuck up and tell him.

And Nat is scary when not listened to.

Much to brainstorm about.

.

June 14/21

Dear Jane,

Just here to brainstorm some ideas for future Stark Industries projects and thought I’d preface it with a small diary entry. Nothing really happened. Work’s catching up for some reason and bad guys are acting up. I’ve pulled a few all nighters, not gonna lie.

Really tired, but in a good, productive way. Haven’t thought much on the James front. Gonna have to focus on that after everything calms down.

.

June 20/21

Dear Jane,

It’s officially summer and yet today was awful with only subtle hints of being okay.

So much for simplicity.

In the evening, I read on the hammock on the balcony. No one really bothered me except James, but he’s never a bother.

Steve and ex-Girlfriend (who will now be reidentified as Girlfriend) are pretty cute, and she meshes well with the group. There’s nothing really awkward between her, James, or me, so I guess two people’s summers are going well. Bully for them.

Didn’t really eat. Was too busy working. James got me dinner. Didn’t feel right and just kept working. This whole agreement between us has been very flexible but we really need to fit in a session soon.

I’ll make it work somehow.

.

June 22/21

Dear Jane,

I got my wish and didn’t at the same time. We spent the whole day in the sheets (very blissfully relaxing) and I, stupidly and with very little sleep, let it slip.

In less elegant terms, I told him I loved him. It felt very real and genuine and very-out-of-a-movie, but his reaction was less so.

What did I say? Allergic to intimacy.

He tried to play it off as best friends and even that was uncomfortable, but I, very seriously and very foolishly, corrected him that “no, James Buchanan Barnes, I am IN LOVE with you.”

He left a few minutes ago, saying something about heading down to the gym, but I know he’s just trying to avoid me.

God, how am I so stupid?

.

June 25/21

Dear Jane,

I haven’t seen James in a few days. I thought he was avoiding me but turns out he’s out of the country. Something about protection for whatever dignitary is travelling at the end of the month. I don’t know.

I wasn’t assigned to that op so the details weren’t shared liberally. Sam just said it’d be a while during the ambassador’s entire stay. High threat level which is why the Avengers were contracted.

I just hope he stays safe. I know he probably took off to take his mind off things, but I don’t know how he’s focusing when all I can think of is those three little words.

I love you.

Seems so fake the more I hear it in my head, but his reaction was so real that I think I might’ve just irreversibly messed things up.

.

July 12/21

Dear Jane,

It’s been a hectic couple of weeks. If future me finds this with blotted words, it’s because I am indeed crying while writing this.

James was medically evac’ed last night and transferred back to New York. Helen Cho was flown in from her medical conference in Minnesota where she was showcasing the newest version of the Cradle.

There was an assasination attempt and James is fucked up bad.

Holy shit, I’m so scared. I’ve never been so scared in my life. It’s like an invisible demon has my heart in his claw-like hands and he’s squeezing with all his might. I think my heart might explode.

I just want to hold his hand but he’s so high risk no one’s allowed to see him right now.

The waiting room is too quiet. Steve’s holding on to Girlfriend’s hand so hard I think her bones are broken but she’s taking it like a champ. Nat’s pacing, slowly patting a sleeping Morgan who she’s carrying. Sam and Tony are talking about stuff.

It’s too quiet.

I’m so scared.

.

July 13/21

They got him into the Cradle. Thank God. I think I might cry some more out of relief, but he was conscious for a few minutes earlier and he’s stable now.

It’s really late at night but they extended privileges to me to stay with him so I’m just sitting here, writing. Listening to the Cradle do its thing and the monitors do theirs.

When he was conscious, I was with him. He said some stuff under his breath but the one thing I could make out was “I’m an idiot.”

Granted, he’s right. It was supposed to be Steve or Tony on that mission. You know, people with more defense op experience, but he had to go out and volunteer himself.

I feel sort of guilty.

It’s partially my fault, isn’t it?

I think I’ll try to tuck in for tonight. I wanna be awake when he wakes up, too.

.

July 14/21

Dear Jane,

James woke up today. He’s still in the Cradle (lots of internal damage spread throughout the body) but he’s conscious. He saw me and immediately tried to sit up which was sweet, but when he couldn’t, he just told me to come closer and then told me that he loved me.

I called him an idiot for running away. I told him he really scared me. I told him that I loved him so fucking much. I told him that I feel so guilty and he just held my face and said that it will never be my fault.

He’s so fucking romantic, even when he’s lying down with a wound being stitched closed live in front of my eyes.

Oh, and he kissed me. I don’t think I noticed how much I actually missed him until that moment.

I don’t know how to describe the feeling in my chest. It’s a mixture between super happy and super scared and super, super warm inside. Summer might be looking up.

.

July 18/21

Dear Jane,

We got home today. James is staying in my room. The team doesn’t say anything about it. We’re best friends, after all, but I think they’ve known for a long time that there’s something more. Some of them are just too polite to say so.

I won’t have much time to write over the next couple of days. James has to be kept on a strict, extremely healthy diet and medicine regime.

I don’t care. I’m just glad he’s home.

He’s kissing me a lot more, now. Alpine likes the fact that his two humans are now in the same room. He purrs so loudly, I can hear him from where he’s dozing, curled up underneath James’ chin. He (James) is resting after his second round of antibiotics for the day while I work from my room, and sometimes I catch myself looking back just to make sure he’s okay.

I’m going to go kiss him now.

Be right back.

.

July 21/21

Dear Jane,

It’s almost Nat’s birthday (the 26th). Super exciting. James is back on solids and I’m helping him around with walking. Even with the Cradle and the healing factor, he’s still super banged up, so it’s better safe than sorry.

We had a really long talk about love and stuff. It’s good to finally have it out in the open. It was mostly me talking about my side of things and he just nodded a lot. I know he was listening though.

We also kissed a lot, like seventeen year old couples who are heavy on the PDA, but within the privacy of my room. I dunno. I like the heat of his arms and the way he kisses the shell of my ear when he’s bored or it’s a commercial break.

It feels very natural.

I am very much in love with him.

I tell him that and he always looks skeptical, but whatever. He doesn’t have to say it back (I tell him that there’s no pressure) and he’ll get it through his thick skull eventually that he’s now stuck with me.

.

July 25/21

Dear Jane,

We made cookies in the early AM as tradition for the party tomorrow and I told him that I love him (again, but this time he didn’t run, nor has he the past few times. Fantastic).

While the cookies were baking, he explained everything on his side of the story: how he was scared to be vulnerable, how opening up to me is just different and new and scary and I get it. I really do. I know how it feels to think you don’t deserve good things and sabotage feels like the only way to save everyone from hurt.

He smiled a lot more after that. I guess he’s just glad I get it.

One day, I’ll successfully convince James that he deserves everything good this world has to offer.

Until then, I’ll just keep trying.

P.S. He said, with less hesitation than the first time, that he loves me, too. Best. Day. Ever.

P.P.S. The cookies are so good and I want to devour them all. I could barely stop James from eating all of them. Again: Best. Day. Ever.

.

July 26/21

Dear Jane,

In summary of today:

Happy birthday, Natasha.

James has been given the clear bill of health which is exciting. Also, I asked him about the Jane and gift of God thing.

He knew. “Intuition” and all that. He also said I looked “like a royal dame” in my swimsuit. Smug idiot just trying to be charming.

I love him and that’s the only reason it works.

Back to the festivities.

.

July 27/21

Dear Jane,

Good morning to you and to James who’s still in my bed at a ripe 6:23AM, fast asleep.

Progress. Now, back to sleep.

.

July 27/21

Dear Jane,

It’s now 9:49AM and James greeted me with orange juice and waffles. He said I was cute when I slept. Creep.

He also said he tried so many times to stay in my bed after, before we were like we are now, but he never could, and now he’s upset that he missed out on my cute sleeping/waking up for the day face every time he did so.

He is exceptionally cute when he’s pouting.

I think we’re officially boyfriend-girlfriend, but we’ll work out the semantics on that later. For now, it’s another summer day together. He suggested Chinese takeout for dinner because I have to go dip back into the lab later today to check on some samples.

I agreed and he kissed me in promise like it was our “thing.” I can’t stop smiling like an idiot.

Massive progress.

.

July 28/21

Dear Jane,

He told me I was the only one for him.

Also, he kissed me in front of our friends for the first time. Natasha yelled “FINALLY” and pushed us into the pool. Sam laughed and then I grabbed him and threw him into the pool. Ensuing: a water fight for the ages.

For a day: 10/10

.

July 31/21

Hey Jane,

I think I’m happy.

I’m sorry I ever doubted the effects of writing down my feelings.

James has a romantic trip to uptown planned for our first date and he said it’ll take the whole day so I thought I’d get this entry in the morning. I dunno. It’s really early and the happy thought was the first thing that came to my head.

Weird, but it’s a good weird.

See you in a bit.

#fic: dear... whoever #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x reader fluff #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky fic #bucky imagine #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan fanfiction #sebastian stan fic #sebastian stan imagine #my writing #25 things challenge

[summerlovingbaby]

War Torn

Y/N was walking home to find it crawling with cops, that’s when she knew something was off. Because it wasn’t just cops it was special agents, and shield agents crawling in her neighborhood, sure she lived in a rough part of town and there were always cops, it was never this many, so she knew something was wrong.

She had an escape plan, she always had an escape plan. She knew what she was doing and where she was going. She hoped that he would be there, waiting for her just like promised, but when she saw the news she knew that he wouldn’t be.  Y/N  was planning her next move when she read another headline.

All the headlines everywhere read: Winter Solider Escapes Custody With The Help of Capitan America and Sam Wilson. Millions of questions ran threw Y/N’s head. Where was he being held? Why was he being held? How did he escape? Why did he escape? And mostly how did they find him?

She had to find him, Bucky would do the same for her. She had to find him, though she would be breaking a promise. They made a deal if something happened to one of them, they wouldn’t come back for one another, but she had to. She owed Bucky a great deal, and he would do the same for her.

All Y/N knew was that The Winter Solider escaped custody, he was with two of the avengers, all the borders were locked down tight, the rest of the avengers are looking for him, and they set up a 12 mile blockade. That means that they were probably hiding out somewhere, planning for their next move. Y/N had an idea of where he would be, and she somewhat had a plan.

The next thing she knew she was at a abandoned warehouse, with an AR-15 slung over her shoulder. She could hear muffled voices, one of them was Bucky’s voice, at least he wasn’t dead. As she walked closer she heard the voices more clearly. They were talking about trust, about trusting Bucky.

“ Hands up.” Y/N said peeping around the corner her gun pointed at the black guy.

The black guy reached for his side arm and had it pointed at her within seconds , but the white guy held his hands above his head. Bucky looked up when he heard Y/N’s voice, he knew that she would be coming for him, but hoped that she wouldn’t, He didn’t want her to be apart of this right.

“ Buck-.” Y/N started to say but was stopped,

“ Y/N I’m okay. Drop it.” Bucky’s voice was breathy and he sounded tired, he looked tired and sad.

“ James-” Y/N said looking for reassurance. Her eyes still trained on Sam.

“ Put it down.” Bucky said, he was watching Y/N, he knew that there was only about a 45% chance that she would actually listen to him, but he had to try.

Y/N shrugged her shoulders and pointed her head toward Sam. Steve began to lower her hands, he took his hand and he pushed Sam’s gun down and angled it towards the floor. Y/N did the same, her finger still on the trigger.

“ Y/N you shouldn’t be here.” Bucky said, his head hung low from shame and tiredness.

“ Neither should you.”

“ I did something bad.”

“ I know, I saw.”

“ Buck who is this woman.” Steve said breaking the silence.

“ She’s a friend.” He said looking at Steve with puppy dog eyes, that he didn’t mean to use, those where just his eyes now.

“ Hate to break up this reunion but we need to leave. Like yesterday.” Sam said putting his gun away. “ We need a car.” He said, he begrudgingly looked at Y/N, who payed him no mind. Y/N was too busy looking at Bucky for any sign of trouble. To be honest he looked mostly okay, just tired.

“ Can you get us a car.” Steve looked at Y/N with those Captain America eyes.

“ Yeah I can.” Her eyes moved between Steve and Bucky. “ Should I?” She asked towards Bucky.

“ Steve.” Bucky said in a quiet shaky voice. So that was Steve, the Steve. Y/N thought he was dead by the way Bucky spoke of him.  Y/N knows how much Bucky cared for Steve, respected him a lot too. Y/N heard story’s about him, and Bucky cried for him. She just thought he would be smaller.

“ I can get you a car, not legally.” Y/N spoke, finally looking away from Bucky.

“ Go.” Steve said nodding towards the exit.

“ No, no, no, no. Go with her.” Sam said to Steve. “ Leave the gun, might get some looks.” He said with a sarcastic smile.

Y/N leaned the AR-15 against a pole, and her and Steve left. They walked for a bit in awkward silence, the parking garage that they were going too was surprisingly full, but they needed a car that wouldn’t be reported stolen. Steve broke the silence.

“ You know Bucky.”

“ Yeah.”

“ I guess I meant how do you know Bucky?”

“ I-  he’s a friend.”

“ How did you two meet?”

“ He saved me.”

“ What did he rescue you from a burning building.” Steve said half as a joke.

“ No, he shot me.”

“ He shot you?”

“ Yeah, I deserved it though, it’s not his fault.”

“ Did you do something bad?”

“Define something bad.”

There was a pause, Steve knew Y/N was playing coy, avoiding questions.

“ I am assuming that he told you about Siberia- the others. I was one of the others.”

“ Okay.”

“ Under the circumstances, the brainwashing didn’t work as well as they planned, so I got away. And then I heard about HYDRA and SHEILD, so I moved to Romania because I knew that they wouldn’t look for me there, but they found me anyway. And then they said the words and they made me someone I’m not. I guess James- or Bucky whatever you call him, he saw me on the news, and then he found me, so I tried to kill him. And then he shot me and hit me on the head really hard, helped me remember who I was. He helped me, he cared for me. I was sick, mentally and physically. HYDRA wouldn’t feed me, I was underweight had some broken ribs, my hair was falling out, I couldn’t keep food down. He kept  me alive when I didn’t want to live. Then there was the incident-”

“ What incident?”

“ I don’t think you want to know. I helped him, and then he helped me. He let me stay, at his place. It was only supposed to be for a little bit, but it felt nice to have someone looking out for you, so I stayed. And then we made plans, plans incase something happened. We promised that we wouldn’t come back for each other, but I couldn’t- I can’t leave him. I owe him, I owe him a lot. More than my life, I owe him about a dozen times- a dozen lives. So he’s my friend.” Y/N said. Steve just now noticed that she was crying, but didn’t press the issue because they found a car.

Steve started to break the window, but stopped when Y/N started to pick the lock quite eloquently. Then she popped the dash board and started cutting some wires, so the car started, The ride back to Bucky was almost silent.

“ You know he saved my life too.. fell off a train for me. I’m glad you were there for him, sense I wasn’t. If he trust you I trust you, you seem like a good person. All things considered.”

“ Thanks.” Y/N said watching the windows, it calmed her to see the tree flying by her. It made her feel like she was flying and she liked flying.

They got back to the empty warehouse, Bucky’s arm was free, and Sam was holding the AR-15 begrudgingly, aimed at Bucky. When Y/N saw him free, she fought the urge to run to him. She just wanted to hug him, to touch him, to feel him, hear his heat, his heartbeat. It looked like Bucky was fighting something too, but he opened his arms anyway. Y/N walked to him, and fell into his arms. He enveloped her in a his arms pulling her close to his chest.

Sam tried to break it up, but Steve made Sam give them a minute, he knew they needed a moment of calm before the chaos. They stopped hugging and got in the car. Steve stopped and got some gear, and when Y/N blinked they were at the airport. Something was about to go down. Y/N knew a fight was going down.

Sam noticed that Y/N and Bucky were sharing words in a language, that wasn’t English.

“ You can still leave, its not too late to back out of this.” Bucky said in Romanian

“ I’m not going anywhere.”

“ You don’t have to stay, not for me.”

“ I’m doing this.”

“ This is a suicide run, if they catch you they will kill you.”

“I could say the same to you.”

“ This is my mess, let me clean it up.”

“ Its our mess, and you’re not talking me out of this so drop it.”

“ We had plans, you made plans. You promised that you wouldn’t come back for me.”

“ You would have done the same.”

“ That’s not the point.”

“ Then what is the point?”

“ You can leave, I won’t be mad at you.”

“ I know you won’t. That’s why I have to stay.”

“Y/N-” Bucky started to started to say but was interrupted by the overhead speakers. They were evacuating the airport it was now or never.

‘ May I have my gun please?” Y/N asked. “ I won’t kill anybody I swear, just distract them.”

Steve nodded for Sam to give her the gun, but Sam was still protesting.

“ We don’t need another gun.” Sam said.

“She’s more than a gun. If you’re going to fight do it right. Show them.”

So Y/N did. She was standing next to Bucky one minute, and then she took the place of Sam. Literally. She swapped places with Sam, then Steve, then Wanda then Scott. They didn’t have much time to further press the issue, because they saw a plane landing. Sam was very thrown off, but was too busy thinking about the fact that he was about to commit a war crime.

Y/N was hiding in the hanger with Bucky and Sam. Steve and Tony seemed to be sharing unpleasant words, then something blew up and they got their signal to start running. So they ran like hell. Then a spider-child crashed through the roof, he sounded pretty young. He sounded adorable. Y/N would have found it amusing if it wasn’t for the civil war part. What really threw them for a loop was when he caught Bucky’s arm midair. He wasn’t punching to kill so it wasn’t full strength, but hard enough to knock him out.

But Sam used his drone to trick the boy into falling off the roof, so they were clear. They exited the hanger, and made a bee line to the quinjet, but were stopped. Y/N was stopped by Nat, Clint was stopped by Black Panther, Falcon was stopped by Tony. Y/N didn’t see much more though. Wanda was putting up a good fight, but Y/N was too. 

Everyone was tied up fighting someone, but they didn’t have time to fight. Steve asked for something big and we got something big. Y/N could hear Scott mumbling about tearing himself in half, then he grew. Really big, taller than the airplane hanger. Scott started swinging his arms aimlessly, then he grabbed onto Rhodey, and Ironman starting blasting at him and Vision flew threw him. This couldn’t get any weirder was all Y/N was thinking. Y/N was distracted with Nat and Black Panther. She was doing her best to hold them off, but Black Panther slipped past her.

She looked up to find Antman being tipped over, and saw the spider-ling flying through the air. He was falling, falling fast. He would hit the ground, hard. It would probably kill him. Without thinking Y/N took his place and crashed into a stack of boxes. She thought it would be fine, maybe break a few ribs, but she felt a sharp pain in her abdomen. She tried to raise herself up, but yelped groaned loudly. She looked down to see a large piece of metal through her stomach,

When she saw it she tried to muffle a loud cry. Bucky heard her scream and asked for her status, she didn’t respond. All anyone heard was heavy panting and muffled screams and moans. Suddenly spider-boy ran over to help her. His mask was half off. Wow, he was young.Y/N thought he looked like he was 15 maybe 16.  

“ Oh mu gosh are you okay? You don’t look so good. Just stay there, Mr. Stark will know what to do. “ The boy stuttered.

Y/N would have found him funny during most circumstances, but she had steel sticking out of her stomach so she wasn’t amused. She was watching when she saw war machine free falling. Crap. He was going to die if he hit the ground. She grabbed at the spiderboy and pulled herself up. She could see him falling, but her vision was fading, her wound was bleeding a lot. Her eyes were growing heavy, she tried to wait til he was closer to the ground, but she couldn’t. Her eyes started closing, and it was now or never. She switched places with him and she was now free falling through air. She was falling, she was 100 feet from the ground.

She opened her eyes slightly and could see Sam racing to her aid.This calmed her down a bit, but she knew that he wouldn’t catch her. Her eyes closed as she fell to the ground, she landed hard. It made a crater where she landed. Sam narrowly missed her, but landed beside her. All Sam could hear was Bucky asking if she was okay, but he wasn’t responding because he didn’t know.

Y/N didn’t know this but Bucky was watching the whole time. He tried to convince Steve to turn it around, so they could help her, he just wanted to help her, but Steve wasn’t budging. Then Steve heard strained gasping and heavy breathing.

“ She’s breathing.” Sam whispered.

“ Good, can anybody help.” Steve was glad that Y/N was okay, but he was still focused on the mission, and Iron Man was still tailing the plane.

“ How far away can you get in the next minute?” Y/N asked, her eyes still closed her voice barley above a whisper.

“ Y/N no.” Bucky yelled.

“ Far.” Steve said, his voice laced with confusion.

“ Y/N don’t.” Bucky repeated

“ Don’t do what?” Steve asked.

Everyone could hear Y/N straining through coms, Bucky’s eyes went wide, he started pleading for her to not be dumb and the fight was over, but it was far from over. Suddenly Y/N’s eyes opened wide, they were glowing white.

 “ What the hell?” Sam said.

Y/N’s chest started to lift from the ground, so did her whole body. A bright white light surrounded her body like a shield, as she rose higher and higher. Everyone stopped and watch Y/N go higher and higher. The energy around her glowed brighter and brighter. They could hear Y/N straining harshly, then she started yelling. She flew up higher and grew brighter, then with one final yell she pushed it outward. The energy field expanded in a wave, knocking Iron man off kilter just enough to let Bucky and Steve escape. Y/N could see them flying off in the distance which made her happy. But that’s the last thing she saw, and then she fell from the air. Sam caught her, but she didn’t know that because she was passed out.

Y/N woke up in a straight jacket, and a shock collar, in a cell. She was confused and in a lot of pain. She didn’t know a lot at the moment, but the one thing she did know was that she wanted Bucky.

part 2

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@buckybarnes1991

#bucky x you #james buchanan barnes #bucky x reader #james barnes #james buchanan bucky barnes #the avengers #avengers imagine #avenger #civil war #captian america #bucky barnes #captain america civil war #bucky barnes fluff #the winter solider imagine #the winter soilder

[avintagekiss24]

heavy is the head that wears the crown; and the heart > bucky barnes

|| pairing: romanian!king!bucky barnes x black!queen!reader

|| word count: 3,273

|| warnings: language words

|| challenge: @marvelmaree‘s birthday challenge: royalty au + “i’ve dreamt about leaving so many times.” “that’s the problem with most people. they dream about what they want to do instead of really doing it.”

|| square filled: @star-spangled-bingo​ SSB2020 N1: modern royalty au

|| square filled: @buckybarnesbingo​ Y1: “i regret nothing.”

|| summary: there are many decisions to make as queen; some of the heart, some of the mind.

|| link: ao3

|| note: this is really late for maree’s birthday challenge! i’m so sorry babe, but i hope you like it! i hope it’s okay that i made it a modern royalty au instead of a traditional royalty au!

so, for this to make sense, we have to pretend that after the south seceded from the united states in 1860, they never rejoined the union and the civil war never happened. we also need to pretend that the united states had kings and queens instead of presidents, lol. we also have a cameo by a real life duke and duchess :) also, sis does not play in this.

hope you guys enjoy, and happy juneteenth!

You walk slowly through the trees, the tips of your fingers grazing over the bloomed flowers. The bottom of your dress is caked in dirt as it drags behind you, your black Converse shoes leaving soft imprints in the soft earth. You don’t care - you never have - but your mother surely will. Another dress ruined! My God, when are you going to learn some etiquette! You are thirty one years old, girl!  You smile and chuckle slightly as her words swirl through your head. Dinner will be fun tonight. 

You stop and bend slightly to pluck a rose from it’s bush. You bring it to your face and inhale deeply, letting the natural, earthy scent fill your nose. You close your eyes and hum a little as you exhale slowly, letting your eyes flutter back open. 

“I knew I’d find you out here.”

You laugh as his voice fills your ears. You don’t turn to face him. Instead, you do just the opposite. You turn away from him and keep on your leisurely stroll as you continue to sniff at your pretty red rose, “I’m not a hard person to figure out, Mr. Barnes.”

“That you’re not. That’s what I like about you.”

You scoff but laugh again, shaking your head softly. You take a few more steps before you shriek when two long arms wrap around your middle. He lifts you off your feet, twirling you around as you laugh wildly. He sits you back down, facing him this time, and crashes his lips to yours - stealing every ounce of breath out of your lungs. He squeezes you to him as you moan lightly and wrap your arms around his neck. 

“Hi,” he says softly after he frees your lips.

You giggle as he rests his forehead to yours, his eyes still closed from the kiss, “Hi there,” you whisper, “You are awfully brave for pulling this little stunt with my mother being right inside.”

“I don’t care about your mother,” he shrugs, “Do you?”

You send your eyes towards the sky, pretending to give it some thought, “Not really, no.” 

He finally opens his eyes and they almost take your breath away. You’ve been staring into those blues since you were kids, but the deepness of them - the emotions that swirl in them at any given time - surprises you every time. You cup his cheek, a dark beard blooming across his skin and rub your thumb underneath his right eye as a dreamy smile covers your lips.

“You’re so pretty.” You say softly, watching as the smile broadens on his face.

You send your eyes down to his chest, finding him in a crisp white button up shirt and a black velvet sport coat and pants, complete with a pair of off white, studded loafers, “You broke out the Tom Ford just to see me?”

“Not this time, darling.” He smiles, throwing his arm over your shoulder as the two of you begin to walk again, “I had an engagement with Prince Harry and the Duchess Megan this afternoon.”

“Ah yes, I remember now. I was supposed to be there.” You laugh, shrugging. 

He laughs at your nonchalance, “You were certainly missed. To be perfectly honest though, Harry and I had bet going that you’d blow it off.”

You nod, shooting him a quick finger gun, “Both of you are very smart men.” You giggle, “It’s just one more thing for my mom to be mad at me about. Whatever, I’ll text Harry and Megan my apologies.”

The two of you walk slowly through the vast garden until you are no longer visible from the main house. You wave at the horse handlers as they work your champion thoroughbreds off in the distance. You swallow and let out a breath as your mind starts to wander again, your stomach twisting a little. 

“I’ve dreamt about leaving so many times.” You say softly, dropping your eyes to the rose still in your fingers. 

You hear Bucky sigh, “That’s the problem with most people. They dream about what they want to do instead of really doing it.”

You roll your eyes, but a smile cracks your face, “Don’t be a smart ass, Barnes.”

“I’m not,” he smiles, threading his fingers with yours, “I mean it. You can do whatever you want to do. You don’t have to marry him.” He stops moving as you continue to step ahead of him, your arms spreading out between the two of you as he continues to hold your hand, “Are you listening to me?”

“Yes.” You answer firmly, “I’m listening, I know.”

“You don’t love him.”

“I don’t. I love you.”

“Then marry me. Come back to Romania with me, be my queen.”

“And denounce my country? Just leave them behind with no heir? I can’t do that.”

“Your cousin could be Queen.”

“She’s an idiot!” You laugh, “We’d be in a world war within months.” You drop his hand and step away from him further, spinning on your heels suddenly to face him again, “You could move here.”

He nods slowly, “I could.”

You scoff, “Stop it.”

“I could - I would. If you really wanted me to.”

You shake your head, “You’re too idealistic.”

“And you’re too cynical.” He rebukes, keeping his gaze on you firmly, “We could make this work, you know we can.”

“How can you run a country if you’re thousands of miles away from it?” You sigh, “You’re a King, you need to be there.”

He scratches his head as he closes his left eye, tilting his head towards the sky, “Um, have you heard of the internet? FaceTime, email - Zoom - I hear that’s great.”

You roll your eyes again as you groan loudly, turning away from him. You slump your shoulders as you throw your head back , closing your eyes as the sun beats down on you. You wish this was easier. You wish you had the guts to tell your mother to just piss off so you could run off to Romania and spend the rest of your life in his arms, but then there’s the other side of your heart. Half of you doesn’t want to leave. You want to take your rightful throne. You want to be Queen. You’ve prepared for it your whole life, it’s your destiny - and you’d be good at it. 

How could Bucky not be a part of that destiny? That’s the real question you have. That’s what keeps you up at night these days as your calling draws nearer and nearer. He’d throw it all away for you, but you can’t do the same for him - and that makes you feel guilty; and sad.

“Don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what?” You ask, not turning around.

“That,” he says in a way that you know he’s smiling, “Don’t feel guilty.”

“How do you know I feel guilty? I’m just standing here.”

You hear his feet in the grass as he moves towards you, and then feel his warm breath on the back of your neck as he sweeps your braids over your shoulder, “Because I know you.” He whispers into your ear before he pushes away again, stepping out in front of you. 

You open your eyes and watch as he spins in the grass, “I don’t want you to feel like you have to give this up for me,” he continues, “It’s 2020, not 1940 - you don’t have to give up everything you’ve worked so hard for just for some dude.”

“I’m glad we agree on that.”

“Just,” his voice trails off as he takes a deep breath,  “Please don’t marry him.” He says gently, his voice barely above a whisper. 

The him he speaks of is Scott Lang, the appointed King of the South, né Atlanta. He’s a nice man; kind, funny, sweet - and he adores you, but he’s boring. He’s predictable, and your mother loves him. That alone makes you want to scream and run for the hills. It’s bigger than you though, the marriage. It’s not one out of convenience or even one bred from a matchmaker. Your marriage will unite the South back with the rest of the United States. Scott will ultimately relinquish his throne, and you’ll be the first Queen to reign over an intact America in over a hundred years. 

But that isn’t what you want - not with him.

Bucky is slightly irrational at times - incalculable almost every time. He has a subtle boldness that’s attracted you to him since you were kids. You remember it like it were yesterday, the first time the two of you met. The annual meeting of the Royal families, this time held in Britain. You were seven, Bucky was nine. Your fathers introduced the two of you in the middle of the great library, telling you both to run along, don’t make a mess. Without knowing each other for a full minute, he grabbed your hand and dragged you through the library, reaching out and tipping random books off the shelves as you ran between the aisles.

You loved him right then and there, and every minute since. 

“I’m not going to marry him,” you finally answer, “I just have to find the right time to tell them. There’s a lot riding on this.”

He nods slowly, “I know. The merger is… big.”

“I’ll make it happen.” You shrug, “I always do. The South was stupid to secede in the first place and now they’re reaping what they sowed. A few more years of this and they’ll be destitute, they know it.”

Silence drops over the two of you as you look at each other, just blinking randomly and breathing. He tilts his head and smiles at you slowly, watching you as your mind turns. He knows that in three months time, on your thirty second birthday, you’ll be made Queen. He knows you’re ready, he knows you’re capable; but he also knows you’re scared. Uncertain of what’s to come for yourself, your country; and for the two of you.

He holds out his hand to you, not saying a word, just extending it - waiting for you. You move forward without hesitation, sliding your hand into his and letting him press you to his chest. His large hands sweep around your sides and slide up and down your back as you wrap your arms around his middle. You flatten your hands on his broad back and nuzzle into his sport coat, shielding your face from everything and everyone. You close your eyes when he runs his hand over your hair and presses kisses to the top of your head. 

“I’ll be right here,” he whispers softly, “I’ll always be here for you, sweet girl. No matter if you are mine or not. I promise you that.” 

“I know you will,” you sniffle as tears start to fall, “I want to be yours forever.”

He hugs you to him again, rocking your bodies back and forth softly, “Just say the word and I’ll pack my bags.” 

You squeeze him tighter.

You twist your hands within one another as you stand behind the two great doors. You can hear the muffled commencement speech taking place on the other side, people cheering and clapping. You swallow hard. You let out a focused breath through your teeth. You lower your head and unfold the balled up paper in your hands. 

I love you. Always.

Bucky

It’s simple - not even on his official letterhead. It’s just a blank sheet of paper confessing his adoration of and for you. You take another breath and force it out between your teeth as you ball it up again and lift your head. You run your gloved hands down your red and gold military jacket, rolling your shoulders before craning your head back and forth. Your medals clink softly from the disturbance of them, but to you, the sound is deafening as everything else blurs into the background. The doors open and the military men and women before you begin their procession into the Great Hall. 

Time to go.

Trumpets start to sound when you make your entrance into the room. Tv cameras zoom in on you as the audience in attendance stand to their feet. You focus forward as you move, painfully aware of all the eyes on you. The room is full of Royal families from all over the world, the press, and your extended family - all ready to watch the transfer of power. You blink, diverting your eyes quickly to your left, catching a quick smile and a secret wave from the Duchess of Sussex. The Duke of Sussex tips his head towards you and you return the gesture, winking playfully at Megan as she bounces baby Archie in her hands. 

You blink again and there they are; those ice blue eyes. Your breath catches in your throat as you stare at him, dressed in his military uniform. A white satin embroidered jacket, complete with the numerous gold medals he’s earned along the way. A white and gold sash crosses over his chest as the artificial lights glint off of the gold and silver pins and buttons littered across his jacket. 

His hair is trimmed - shorter than you like it, to be frank - his dark beard neatly manicured. He’s a sight - a vision, and if you had any doubt at all, it’s all thrown out the window now. Just with a glance of him. 

You walk to the steps where your parents stand, a diamond encrusted crown in your mother’s hands. You kneel on the small red pillow on the top step and drop your head as the speaker begins again. 

“Here, on the first of July, in the year twenty twenty and on her thirty second birthday, we honor the change of power from Queen Johana to its rightful heir, her only daughter, our royal Princess. Queen Johana, please remove the Princess tiara and replace it with the crown.”

Your mother bends, plucking the precious tiara you’ve adorned for so long from your head. You close your eyes and focus on your breathing as the official crown, her crown, is rested atop your head. She slips her index finger to your chin and lifts your head so your eyes can meet hers for the first time as Queen. You note the water that builds in her eyes as she smiles at you. You smile back, knowing in the depths of your heart that no matter how much the two of you fight, no matter how different your politics are - you are her only daughter - and her love for you knows no bounds. 

“I’m so proud of you.” She whispers.

“Thank you, mama.” 

When your mother stands again, the speaker announces, “Queen, please rise and address your court.” 

You stand and turn, holding your head high as the room erupts with claps and cheers. Your parents step into the background as you nod and wave, mouthing your thank you’s before you cross your arm over your chest to cover your heart with your hand. Picture cameras click loudly in every direction as the television crews zoom in on you again.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the speaker announces, “Your Queen.”

“I have something I want to say, if that’s okay.” You say, turning towards the commencement speaker. 

You move to the podium and clear your throat, waiting for the applause to die down before you start to speak, “I know this is unconventional to address you this quickly, but you all have always known me to be this way, and I do not intend to change. I am very proud and humble to be named your Queen today. This is a long time coming and I thank each and every citizen for supporting me up to this point and beyond.”

You take another breath, “As you know, I am to marry the King of Atlanta, Scott Lang, to unify this great United States of America again at the end of this month.” You lift your eyes and stare straight into the television cameras in front of you, “I have no intention of going through with the marriage.”

Gasps of shock ring through the room, the loudest coming from your mother. You throw your eyes over to Bucky as he blinks back at you, his lips parted, his face flushing red at your impromptu announcement. He runs his hand through his hair in complete disbelief and shrugs at you as he shakes his head, mouthing what are you doing? at you.

You smile, “The King of Romania, James Buchanan Barnes, and I are in love, and have been since we were children. I plan, if he’ll still have me, to marry him on the twenty fifth of July, here in New York. On the twenty sixth of July, I will issue an executive order demanding that the South rejoin the United States within thirty days, and that all members of their parliament dissolve immediately. King Lang will be acclimated into my court and will serve as an advisor to help oversee this merger. If there is any resistance, or the order is not signed by the end of the thirty days, I will have no choice but to find the South and Mr. Lang, guilty of treason, and will send in our military to take control.” 

“I realize this sounds harsh, but I’m giving plenty of time for both regimes to come together and iron this out peacefully. But I must warn, do not take my kindness or my generous time frame as weakness. If I have to take control the hard way, I will. We are only strong when we are together, and I fully intend to right the wrongs of the decisions made before me.” 

You glance to your right, finding Scott’s dark eyes on you, his mouth set in a hard line as anger washes through him, “I am not my mother,” you begin again, speaking directly to him, “I am not my grandmother, or any woman who has come before them. I will not let the South perish because of stubborn minds and brash, pompous attitudes. I will not continue to turn a blind eye to this situation, but I’ll need your help, Mr. Lang, to make this as easy as possible.” He takes a breath and lowers his gaze from yours, already realizing just who he is up against, “Please, do what is best for all of us.”

You turn, facing your parents, “If I learned anything from my parents, it’s to stand up for what I believe in. I believe in love. I believe in peace. I want to thank you all again, and please know that I look forward to serving you and this great country of ours. Thank you.”

Without another word, you step away from the podium and move down the steps as the room goes haywire, every media outlet shouting and screaming questions at you. You stop in front of Bucky, extending your gloved hand to his. He takes it without hesitation, without fear, and hand in hand, the two of you walk down the center aisle as all hell breaks loose around you.

“It’s been all of five seconds, do you regret this yet?” You ask, laughing a little as cameramen scramble to get pictures of the two of you.

“You know me, babe,” he says easily, shrugging as the two of you push through the doors, “I regret nothing.” 

Neither do you.

“Oh, hey!” You smile, “I forgot to ask you, will you marry me in like three weeks?”

He throws his head back, laughing, “Abso-fucking-lutely.”

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