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themonkeycabal · 3 years

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Wandavision Ep 6 Spoilers

No really, spoilers.

Previously on Wandavision — Wanda told SWORD to shove their drones right straight up their asses, Vision woke up to the reality that his utopian sitcom life was in fact a dystopian hellscape, their children were extremely creepy, and Agnes was being bizarre as hell and super sus. In the real world, Acting Director Dick was a dick, and Darcy and Jimmy welcomed Monica into their sciencey weird-crime-fighting team. Monica also mentioned an aerospace engineer she knows, which some suggest may be the first mention of Reed Richards in the MCU. I have conflicted feelings about the Fantastic Four. Mostly I never liked them. But, I'm open to revising my opinion.

Oh, and also X-Men 'Verse Pietro showed up suddenly and that was fun.

Anyway. the roommate and I tried to sort out a timeline — so Monica unBlips and goes back to work at SWORD three weeks later. AD Dick tells us Wanda stole Vision's body nine days previously. That means, just three weeks ago Wanda was in the middle of a battle, lost her boyfriend, was Snapped, was then unsnapped to fall right into the middle of another battle. Lost THREE additional teammates. And then sometime in the following week found out a shady government agency had Vision's body and she probably went "OH HELL NO". Because that's what I would say. So she goes to SWORD, dents a few doors, takes Vision's body and swans off to New Jersey. Look, she's been through a hell of a lot in the last couple weeks, is what I'm saying. I don't blame her a tiny bit. But, also, I don't think she's entirely behind this.

10-year old boy plus video camera = the 90s. Obnoxious opening credits. But, you know, I kind of liked them (as a one off). WAYYY better than last week's.

It's Halloween, and *sigh* Billy is breaking the fourth wall and narrating to the camera. There's childish twin bickering as you expect, Tommy's the wild and crazy twin, and Billy's the buttoned up twin. And Pietro is passed out on the couch at 4 in the afternoon. Living his best life. He teasingly scares the boys, chases them around, and there's awkward child acting.

Wanda comes down the stairs in the classic Scarlet Witch costume, and says she's a Sokovian Fortune Teller. Sokovia was more wild than I realized.

Genuinely funny flashback to Wanda and Pietro trick-or-treating in Sokovia as kids, 'the year we got typhus'. lol. Was it the fish that gave them typhus? Or was that just a special treat? Wanda doubts this version of events, and Pietro suggests she suppressed the memory due to the trauma. This gives Billy the chance to tell the camera that mom's been weird since uncle Pietro turned up to crash on their couch.

Next it's Vision's turn to appear in the classic Vision costume. Yikes. Wanda thanks him for humoring her, and he says there were no other clothes in his closet and they have a very weird second where he's not playing along and she's not sure what to do, and then he breaks into sitcom character says something about "just kidding, i know how much you love mexican wrestling" like it's a luchador costume, and then there's some super weird flirting. TMI you two.

Meanwhile, Pietro is a large child and the kids love him, of course. So there's that.

Back to Wanda and Vision, she's ready to take the kids out trick-or-treating, but Vision says he can't go, he's on the neighborhood watch and must patrol the streets ever-vigilant for wild gangs of child hooligans who might TP trees. He's gone off-script and it takes Wanda a second to figure out how to play this. She says it's the boys' first Halloween so he has to be there. Pietro breaks up the almost argument and says he can be a father figure-type and he'll help with the boys. Vision's still pretty off-script but Wanda doesn't fight it but looks uncertain, and he goes off to protect the night — or early afternoon.

Pietro is a child hooligan and wants to go do hooligany things with the kids. Wanda says he doesn't have a costume and he grabs Billy and they speed off only to return dressed in classic Quicksilver duds. Well, cheap-looking, thrown together Quicksilver duds. I laughed. The hair. lol. Good one.

Outside in the real world. The Hex field is still kind of glowing red and making bad force field noises. It only started doing that when Wanda got pissed in the last ep. Oh, goody, it's Acting Director Dick. I've learned his name is Hayward. I don't care.

Blah blah Stompy Mc-I'm-In-Charge blah. Monica is not pleased about the whole trying to kill Wanda with a missile while she was talking to her plan. AD Dick just says "now we know who we're dealing with". Um … what? You tried to kill her and her response was to tell you to go away. Yeah, boy, she's a monster.

Darcy is there to helpfully remind AD Dick that Wanda made him look like the fool he is. ILU girl. "Hey, there he is; the guy who almost got murdered by his own murder squad." Jimmy just makes a 'i'm so disappointed in you and your choices' face at him in the background.

I despise characters like Hayward. They are so tedious. Narratively they are there to incite conflict, but given the situation conflict naturally exists, surely there are other ways to bring up/drive that tension without the trope of the government heavy ready to solve the problem with the most extreme amount of force available to him. OH no! Our plucky heroes will have to find a way to save the day and fight the Man! Can they do it? Boring. It's too bad General Talbot went insane and then died; he could probably give tips on How Not To Be That Guy.

Anyway

Hayward wants to know if Darcy works for him and she's like "dunno my dude", Monica claims her, AD Dick says "which one of you is the sassy best friend" and Jimmy's like, that is quite enough Acting Director Not Very Nice Man. "There's no time to diminish your colleagues when you're about to start a war you can't win." AD Dick just wants to take out Wanda so the whole nightmare ends. Monica's like um, we literally do not know what's going on. Like, for real we have no clue. So that might not, in fact, end the nightmare, Director Murder Britches.

They argue a lot and Director Dick goes off the rails. Dude's like more unhinged than seems warranted. Unless he's just so embarrassed that he pissed himself when Wanda returned his murder drone to him, he's decided SHE MUST BE DESTROYED FOR THE GOOD OF … NEW JERSEY AND MY SOILED UNDERWEAR OR SOMETHING.

"Captain Rambeau, you are an impediment to this mission!" Oh no! He's gonna tell her all about how hard it was to survive in a post-blip world, all those lucky blipped don't know what it was like! You just can't understand! Monica tells him not to use that as an excuse to be a coward. I'm so bored with this scene. Let me guess, the trio will have to go behind his back to save the day.

"Maybe it's a good thing you weren't here with your mother died. Because, clearly you don't have the stomach for this job." … non-sequitur much? Or is he saying she would have inherited the Director-ship (which should probably not be how that sort of agency works, let's be real). Is this scene five hours long, or does it just feel that way?

The Dick banishes the trio from his base.

"Hayward is way over-stepping his provisional authority". Jimmy Woo, you're so great. Monica says he's up to something. Yeah a tactical nuke and murder. Clearly he doesn't want to actually solve the problem, he just wants the problem to go away with a big show of macho explosions and whatnot. I suspect he might be in over his head, like he was not meant to be Acting Director, let alone Director. Also, he's a boring cliche stereotype and I loathe it.

JIMMY! I legit did not see that coming. He just pure hauls off and clocks one of the soldiers escorting them off the base, to a transport truck or something. Monica seems just as surprised for a second but then she's like "hell yeah!" and jumps in. Darcy sort of stands back and watches. lol. "Why didn't anyone tell me the plan?"

Oh look, it's my shipping container! They put the soldiers in there. Guys, it was for Hayward. Come on.

The trio disguise themselves with ponchos, which is a big step up from the usual MCU disguise of "baseball hat". That was a good bit in Ant-man and the Wasp "it's not a disguise, it just looks like us at a baseball game" (I watched that like last week. I missed Luis). Anyway …

Back in the sitcom world. The kids are ready for their early afternoon trick-or-treating. They're still talking to the camera. It's so awkward. I'm not a fan. I get it's meant to reproduce the very 90s Nick-era sitcoms and so, you know, it's spot on. Still, though.

Pietro is encouraging and supportive. "Unleash hell, demon spawn!"

Dang there are a lot of kids in that neighborhood. Wasn't Vision wondering last episode why there weren't any kids? Is the program correcting itself?

Wanda tries to test Pietro, asking him about some kid at an orphanage when they were kids. Pietro calls her on it, and says he knows he looks different. Wanda wants to know why that is. He says, "You tell me. I mean, if I found shangra-la, I wouldn't want to be reminded of the past, either." Hmm.

The kids speed off with uncle Pietro. Wanda wanders over to talk to neighbor Herb, who has a g-man earbud in and is clearly part of the neighborhood watch. In the background Pietro is stealing all the candy and smashing pumpkins and spraying the place with silly string. The hijinks are so wacky. Wanda tells Herb maybe Vision can help out with the chaos, and Herb says Vision isn't on duty. Oh no, he lied to her!

Herb goes weird "is there something I can do for you, Wanda? Do you want something changed?" Hmmm.

Elsewhere Vision is wandering the wild streets of Westview. He finds people caught in some type of weird decorating loop, the woman seems trapped but aware.

Commercial time! What the fuck was that. "Yo-magic! The snack for survivors." No, really, what the fuck.

Night has fallen, the twins and the twins walk the streets. Wanda's making the boys give back all the candy they stole. She says Pietro is a bad influence. He says "I'm just trying to do my part, kay? Come to town unexpectedly, create tension with the brother-in-law, stir up trouble with the rugrats, and ultimately give you grief. I mean, that's what you wanted, isn't it?"

"What happened to your accent?"

"What happened to yours? Details are fuzzy, man. I got shot like a chump in the street for no reason." AHAHAHAHAHAHA! AHAHAHAHAHA! no really AHAHAHAHAAH! Thank you, Pietro! Holy shit, perfect. That's some delicious shade. I expect to see this gif'd fifteen different ways when I load tumblr today.

"Next thing I know, I heard you calling me. I knew you needed me."

The kids interrupt. And now all of a sudden Tommy can zoom. Character development!

Everyone is so careful to give Wanda what she wants. Why? She's not cruel. Who wants to keep her pacified? And whoever it is cannot possibly be pleased with AD Dick messing things up. Assuming it's an outside or outside-ish force/entity, of course. I mean, I don't think she's doing this entirely, she might be the battery powering it, but despite her thing last episode to get SWORD to leave her alone, she does seem a little confused about the where, why, and how things are going.

"Don't go past Ellis Avenue." Just a kid thing or a boundary of the sitcom control world?

In the real world, our heroes are sneaking through a tent city and into the server room. The scene with Pietro and Wanda discussing his accent is playing in the background. Darcy seems put-out that Pietro was recast. lol. "He brought the wrong face."

Darcy hacks into Hayward's devices. "Hayward figured out a way to look through the boundary." "And he didn't share it with the group." I don't like Hayward.

Something is blipping on the map on the computer. Jimmy asks if it's Wanda, but Darcy says "it's tracking the decay signature of vibranium". So Vision. Monica wants to know why Hayward is tracking Vision. Well, I'd super like to know what SWORD was doing with Vision in the first place, because they weren't just storing him, they were doing something. So …

Jimmy notices that there are other dots, the ones closest to Vision, who are other residents. Jimmy says the ones near the edge of town are barely moving.

Back to Vision. He's found a cul-de-sac to patrol. Everybody's frozen in place, the street lights flicker. Eerie. They're all dressed for Halloween. Does this mean the field is shrinking, or the effects spreading and so it's closing in, slowing and then freezing people who were earlier moving about just fine? Vision is unaffected by this whatever it is. He turns himself into himself and flies off, up above the town. part of the town is dark, and part alive with voices and laughter.

He spots a car at the edge of town. It's Agnes. She seems frozen-ish, but when he asks what she's doing there, she says "Town Square Scare. Where is it?" all robotic like. Vision helpfully tries to give directions. lol. "Took a wrong turn, got lost" she says.

Vision touches her head and she wakes up. "You! You're one of the Avengers. You're Vision. Are you here to help us?" "I am Vision. I do want to help. But, what's an Avenger?"

Hmm. Well, I guess he did say last week that he couldn't remember anything before Westview.

"Am I dead?" she asks. "No, why would you think that?" "Because you are."

What was news coverage after the Snap like, do you suppose? I mean, ridiculous, of course. But, like, I think they had bigger problems then wondering about snapped/dead Avengers, didn't they? Well, maybe not. "WHERE ARE AVENGERS TO HELP US?" or "HOW DARE THE AVENGERS NOT HELP US!" "TOTALLY THIS IS ON THE AVENGERS!" "WE'D ALL BE DEAD WITHOUT THE AVENGERS!" "NUHUH! BOO AVENGERS!" "EXCEPT VISION WHO DIED HEROICALLY, WE ALL LIKE THAT AVENGER!" "TONY STARK AND PEPPER POTTS SHARE THE DECORATING TIPS THAT TRANSFORMED THEIR RUSTIC RESTORATION PROJECT INTO A CHARMING FAMILY HOME".

Agnes starts screaming "Dead" at Vision. She's not coping well. Vision says he's going to try and reach outside town and try to figure this all out. "How? No one leaves. Wanda won't even let us think about it." I SUSPECT YOU, AGNES! Why would Wanda keep everybody trapped and miserable? I could see if she did it on accident, but this implies she's purposefully hurting people. I don't buy it. Agnes, again, seems to be in the right place at the right time to make Vision doubt Wanda. You're a very suspicious character, Agnes.

She starts to laugh. "All is lost." Vision touches her had and she resets to sitcom Agnes. Somehow she can move again, she turns the car around on Ellis Ave and heads back into town. So, that answers that.

Vision walks across the Eillis Ave to the field beyond.

Meanwhile, Darcy continues to hack. Monica gets a text and says "that's it! My way back into the Hex will be here in an hour." Jimmy's all ready to boost a ride to take her to meet her aerospace buddy. But, Darcy says, nope. Can't do it. Monica's been through the Hex twice, and it's rewritten her cells. "It's changing you." Monica is undaunted. "I know what Wanda's feeling and I won't stop until I help her." Alrighty then.

Jimmy's finally going to get to hotwire a car! But wait, Darcy's not going with them. AD Dick has something hidden behind one last firewall. Darcy thinks it's big and can help them. She's going to find it.

I don't think Jimmy had to hotwire that humvee. It just started right up. Motorpool, pfft - they always leave the keys.

Back in Westview. Halloween continues at Town Square. Pietro asks Wanda where she was hiding all those kids. Whu? Says Wanda. "I assume they were all just sleeping peacefully in their beds. No need to traumatize beyond the occasional holiday cameo, amiright?" What is Pietro. "Hey don't get me wrong, you've handled the ethical considerations of this scenario as best you could. Families and couples stay together. Most personalities aren't far from what's underneath. People got better jobs. Better haircuts for sure."

"You don't think it's wrong?"

"Are you kidding me? I'm impressed. It's a pretty big leap from giving people nightmares and shooting red wigglywoos out your hands." No, really, what is Pietro? "How'd you even do all this?" Hmmm.

"I don't know how I did it. I only remember feeling completely alone. Empty. Just endless nothingness." She looks back at Pietro and for a second he's dead Pietro. Poor Wanda.

Darcy continues to hack Hayward's systems. Cataract classified weapons something something. They're still tracking Vision. Who continues his walk across the field and comes to the hex. He tries to push through it. Looks painful. SWORD rolls out to go overreact at him. He makes it through the barrier, kind of. It's a struggle.

Hayward standing there looking like a jackass "he really does want out, doesn't he?" Like he’s just amused by this turn of events, or watching a lab rat try to get out of the lab.

Darcy's standing behind watching all of this. Bits of Vision sort of fly off and back into the Hex. Darcy says "oh no!" and runs towards him, screaming for them to help him. Way to give away your sneaky hiding, girlfriend.

In Westview. Billy looks up, he can hear what's going on outside. "I hear daddy in my head. He's in trouble."

Vision calls for help, while SWORD prioritizes arresting Darcy. Phil Coulson would never have behaved like this. Boo to SWORD. Vision is dissolving. It's kind of gross and sad.

Wanda asks where Vision is, and Pietro interrupts "Don't sweat it, sis. It's not like your dead husband can die twice." Wanda wallops him with some red wigglywoos.

Billy sees soldiers and thinks Vision is dying. Wanda stops everything and makes a big red boom. The Hex appears to be expanding. Whoops, now you've done it AD Dick. He runs away like the brave brave guy he is. They leave Darcy handcuffed to a jeep. "Are you serious right now?"

The Hex overtakes Vision and then Darcy. Trapped soldiers become clowns, and we're in the circus. Well, SWORD seems like a circus, so Wanda's not wrong. I'm pretty sure Jimmy and Monica made it, but sadly the bravest Director who ever braved also escaped. He deserved to be a circus clown. Better luck next week, Wanda.

Credits.

Well, I just don't know anymore.

Hayward doesn't care about Wanda, except where I think because of this someone will figure out what he was doing to Vision's body. And Vision is ultimately the thing he cares about in all this. I hope Wanda drops a house on him.

Hmmm.

Quit suggesting I watch Age of Ultron next, Disney. It’s not happening.

#wandavision #wandavision spoilers #wandavision liveblog

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illegalsouniverse · 4 years

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Raea Cordelia&Fox: Intro

Birth Name: Raea Cordelia

Born: 48 BBY

Species: Human

Homeworld: Stewjon (Location: Stewjon System)

Occupation: Senator in the Galactic Republic, representing the Stewjon system - (including the planet of Colstev)

Affiliations: The Cordelia Family, Galactic Republic, Refugee Relief Movement, Loyalist Committee, Resistance Movement of Stewjon, Resistance Movement of Colstev, Representatives for Unity Program, Intergalactic Relations Committee, People for the Fight Against Colonization, Coruscant Advisory Committee, Movement to End Galactic Hunger, Preservation of the Galactic Arts Committee, Movement to-

“Maker, how many damn committees and movements is this girl a part of?”

“Easy, Commander.” Thorn chuckled as he set down the cup of caf he’d brought up for his vod. “That’s a senator you’re talking about.”

Fox had to physically stop his eyes from rolling into the back of his head. He was a Coruscanti guardsman, an elite shock trooper, the best of the best. And yet here he was reading through the file and preparing for his next assignment: babysitting duty. The Chancellor had signed off on the orders himself. Senator Cordelia was apparently unorthodox, loud about her opinions, and unyielding in her ideologies. She spoke out against the Separatists, the Trade Federation, even some of the other Senators in the Republic. Because of this she was one of the biggest targets in the Galactic Senate.

“I can’t believe they have you on guard duty for one measly senator.” Thorn briefly looked over the file laid out on Fox’s desk, his eyes growing wide at the list of affiliations his Commander had been referring to. He let out a low whistle.

Fox couldn’t agree more. “Word is she’s been receiving death threats from all over. The Separatists aren’t exactly being quiet about their feelings toward her.”

“But why you?”

He’d been asking himself that question as well. He told Thorn the same thing he’d been telling himself since finding out about the assignment. “I honestly have no clue.”

“Here’s to finding out, I guess.” Thorn lifted his cup of caf before downing the rest of it.

---

They were supposed to meet the Senator more than twenty minutes ago. The instructions had been absolutely crystal clear: the Guardsmen were to meet with the Senator in her personal residence on Coruscant where they would escort her to and from her meetings and then Fox was to stay with her throughout all of her visits on Coruscant.

The Senator was late. Fox didn’t like late. Late stressed him out, made him anxious, forced his brain to create various scenarios in which he failed to do his job correctly. Late didn’t work for Fox.

He was just about to comm Thorn, who was assigned to protect the Chancellor since Fox was reassigned for the time being, when the doors to the room slid open. In walked two female humans, one dressed professionally and carrying a datapad while listing off times and names - meetings, Fox deciphered. The other one was dressed elegantly and she strode into the room without a care, barely bothering to glance at the Guards around her. It seemed more over that she hadn’t noticed them rather than that she was actively ignoring them.

“Ugh, cancel the 3 o’clock with Palpatine,” Fox nearly choked at the improper use of the Chancellor’s surname from the girl, who the hell did she think she- “and find out if we can squeeze in a late lunch with Padme or Bail. They’ve been drafting a new trade agreement and I thought Stewjon might benefit from Alder- Dove, who are these people and why are they in my flat?” She stuck her arm out to stop the two of them from walking any further into the room.

“This is your Guard that the Chancellor was, uhm, nice enough to assign to you.”

“Why would I need guards?”

“I told you this last week, the Separatists-”

“I thought that was a joke! Why did you let me laugh?!”

“Raea- Senator Cordelia- ehm,” the girl stumbled over her words, “it’s for your protection. The Separatists have been more open about their threats lately.”

The Senator rolled her eyes. Fox watched her closely as she strode across the room, throwing her shoes off and shedding the fancy silk robe that looked like it cost more than the flat they stood in. Dove caught the robe as it almost hit the ground and laid it across the large couch the Senator had now draped herself onto.

“Senator-” Fox began to speak but was interrupted by the woman in question.

“Dove, call up the Chancellor immediately and tell him I do not need a babysitter.”

Fox almost scoffed. He couldn’t agree more. But this was his job, and hell if she thought she was going to interfere with that. He had orders to follow.

“I’m sorry, she’s been up since early this morning and she hasn’t had any caf-” the PA, Dove, tried to apologize but Fox was barely listening.

“Trust me, Senator, I have no desire to babysit you anymore than you’d like to be babysat. But with the Separatists’ threats rolling in and the recent riots in the lower sectors, the Chancellor has put me in charge of making sure you’re kept safe from any threats.” Fox was smug in his reply. He’d been assigned to protect Senators before but not pretty much permanently like he had this time, and definitely not to one that seemed so-

“And trust me, Commander, everyday I wake up and argue with a bunch of grown men three times my age about tariffs and trade and planetary negotiations, all the while they mansplain and act like I have ‘so much to learn’ because I’m a young girl who’s only had this position for a short period of time. So the last thing I want is to come back to my home and argue with another grown man about what is and isn’t safe for me. The Separatists have never liked me, because I’ve never liked them and I’ve made that abundantly clear numerous times. Their threats on my life are not new to me. As for the so-called riots in the lower sectors, I have nothing to fear over a cause I fight for on the Senate floor.”

Bratty.

“You what?” Thire spoke out of turn, something Fox would have to scold him over later. Though he had asked precisely what Fox had wanted to as well. “You support those people?”

“Those people are ignored day in and day out by the government that has done nothing to help them. They struggle for fair wages and good working conditions all the while dealing with hunger and poverty the deeper into the core you get. Meanwhile the Republic spends money on an army it has no business owning-

“That army is fighting to win this war-” Fox shot back.

“Well I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news but there are no winners in war, just those who profit off of it and those who pay its price.”

“And which one would that make you, Senator?”

“I’ve fought to help those displaced and destroyed by the war. Believe me when I say I wish my system could remain neutral.”

“Then why don’t you? If you don’t like the Senate and you don’t like the Separatists it seems there’s only one option left.”

“How naive you are to think any of us have an option-”

“Ok!” Dove laughed nervously and yanked at her Senator’s arm, pulling her away from Fox - who was just noticing how close they’d been. The phrase right at each other’s throats had never been more literal. “Remember you have that….uh, meeting in thirty minutes with, uhhh, Senator-Senator... Mothma! Senator Mothma! Yes, and you have to get ready for it.”

Fox watched the Senator grumble under her breath as her PA led her away from the guards and into an adjacent room that Fox could only assume was her bedroom.

He didn’t like her. Not in the slightest. She was a privileged, spoiled, rude, bratty little outspoken, know-it-all, smart-ass, obnoxiously gorgeous-

“Commander?” It was the PA again. She stood in the doorway of the Senator’s private room. “We will be leaving in just a few moments. If you had any procedures to go through I would do them now.”

“Finish them quickly! I’d like to get going immediately!” The Senator’s voice was a muffled yell, like there was a barrier between them. She came out of the room not a few seconds later wearing a completely different outfit. How she managed to change so quickly he had no idea. Where she looked more regal before she now looked like any typical civvie off the street, albeit Fox would be able to spot her face easily in a crowd but that had nothing, nothing at all, to do with the fact that she held a different kind of beauty to her. That wasn’t his opinion, of course it wasn’t it was just a fact, or at least that’s what he told himself.

Fox huffed and motioned for Thire and Stone. They took that as the go-ahead to do a quick sweep of the hallway and lift.

“Some rules before we leave here, Senator Cordelia.” Fox watched the girl roll her eyes but choose to ignore her for the sake of time and energy. “Thire and Stone will be running sweeps before we exit and enter buildings. I’ll be at your side constantly. Don’t stop to talk to anyone, and don’t ask questions if I tell you to do something. Our top priority is your safety, as far as I’m concerned everyone is a threat until I’ve deemed otherwise.”

Senator Cordelia’s face scrunched into a mixture of annoyance and confusion. “Maker, you’re so dramatic. At my side constantly? And what if I have to use the refresher, Commander? What about when I have to bathe or change or sleep? Are you going to be there then? Should we get comfortable with each other now since we’re going to be oh so close it would seem?” She wore a smirk like a crown. With total and utter confidence.

Fox stopped something like a growl from creeping up his throat. She was going to be handful. Thire commed in to let him know it was all clear. “Let’s get moving.”

He moved the Senator and her PA into the lift quickly. When they reached the bottom they were met with Thire and Stone who walked behind them while Fox walked at the Senator’s side. Dove was messing with her datapad and Senator Cordelia was wearing that little smirk that wouldn’t seem to leave her face since they’d left her living quarters. They were out of the building and almost to the enclosed blasterproof Republic airspeeder.

Fox’s focus was broken by Stone’s modulated voice. “Sir! There’s been a security breach on the ground level.”

The actions came natural to Fox. He hardly had to think about them before the orders were leaving his mouth. “Get the Senator into the airspeeder. Thire, you’re with me. Stone, stay out here. Make sure no one gets too close.” Senator Cordelia and Dove were maneuvered into the speeder at the same moment Thire and Fox made a break for the building they’d just left.

They’d searched the entire ground floor, three times over even, but nothing came up.

“Must’ve been a system glitch. I’ll have someone check it out and reboot the systems before we come back.” Thire shrugged.

Something wasn’t right. Fox could feel it in his bones. “Get them to do a perimeter and ground sweep again before we return. Something’s off. Nothing is ever really nothing where the Republic is concerned.”

They’d made it back to Stone, who hadn’t moved from the spot they’d left him in.

“Nothing?” Fox questioned him, but Stone just shrugged. “Ugh. Let’s get going then.”

The airspeeder doors opened and Fox felt his blood run cold. If his heart had the capability to stop beating it would’ve. The inevitable migraine he was expecting had come much earlier than he thought. Fox didn’t fail. He did his job and he did it well. He was top of his class, never missed the slightest of details, hell they called him the “sly fox” for a reason. He was the head of the Coruscant's Elite Guard for a reason, he’d earned that title. But this...this was like nothing he’d ever dealt with before.

The datapad, the same on Dove - the damned PA - had been using shined bright, blinking bright red text that read: I THOUGHT YOU SAID AT MY SIDE CONSTANTLY, COMMANDER? The little animated emoji with his tongue sticking out didn’t do anything to quell his growing anger. Flashbacks played through his head of Dove stumbling over her words about the meeting with Senator Mothma, Dove messing with her datapad before they exited the building, Senator Cordelia smirking at her PA. Fierfek, she hadn’t even argued with them when they shoved her into the airspeeder.

He glanced through the airspeeder at the door on the opposite side. It’s window was completely open, wide enough for someone to climb right through it. Or someones. Two of them to be exact. Those sly little-

“Commander? What should we do?” Stone’s voice was nerve-wracked. He was supposed to be watching them, he didn’t expect they’d sneak off themselves.

Fox grumbled to himself before giving them orders. “Search the immediate surrounding areas. I want surveillance cams pulled from all street corners. We find the Senator first, no one can know she’s out without security or protection.” He waited for them to nod before yelling. “Go! Now!”

Yeah, she was definitely going to be a handful.

“Kriff.”

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afewmarvelousthoughts · 4 years

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Only For A Moment Ch. 45

Master: @afewmarvelousthoughtsadmin

Pairing: Bucky X Reader

Summary: For most of your life you’d been able to keep your abilities a secret, that is until Hydra got wind of you. After years of being in their clutches, you break out when The Avengers expose SHIELD/Hydra. Since then, you’ve been on the run. Things are going as well as you could hope when you see a familiar face… Could the Winter Soldier really be in Bucharest too?

Warnings: Violence (combat), ALL THE EMOTIONS

A/N: WELL HERE WE ARE. Almost to the end of Part One of this journey. I always knew we’d end up here, I just didn’t know it would take 44 chapters and a little more than a year but I also can’t say I’m mad about it.

I hope you all enjoy this Civil War throwback and everything that’s to come.

THANK YOU FOR READING!

Tags are open!

“How about Vienna?” Bucky pipes up.

“Huh?” You ask, looking up from your sketch.

“Vienna. It’s a large city, not high on anyone’s radar.” His slight smile makes you long to kiss him. Walking over to his spot on the couch you lean down, pressing your lips to his. He tugs you into his lap, holding you close.

Without Mr. Goldstein, the city felt somehow colder even as winter melted into spring. Leaving was no longer just the logical choice, it was the easiest one, and of course, Bucky had been thinking of your next step this whole time.

“Vienna sounds lovely.” Honestly, you didn’t care where you both ended up, as long as you were together.

“Perfect,” he purrs.

Throughout the next two weeks, the two of you get ready yourselves to leave. Books that aren’t sentimental are donated, same with any home goods you can do without. Most other things are taken to the farmhouse, for safekeeping and future sorting. In no time the apartment feels barren--but somehow it’s good, a clean slate to leave from. Another new chapter… but this time you won’t be starting off alone.

The sun rises, brightening the paper-covered windows but you both linger in bed, wanting to hold onto this little slice of peace for just a bit longer. Wanting to revel in the peace and comfort of familiarity before heading into the unknown.

Tomorrow you’d head the farmhouse, staying there a few days before moving forward to Vienna. While you’re both ready, moving on was still bittersweet—this had been your home, after all, the place you found one another.

“So,” Bucky leans on his elbow, staring down at you, “I’ll go to the market and you’ll take care of laundry?” You groan dramatically and roll over onto your stomach.

“Come on,” he goads, “I did the laundry last time.” His lips press into the skin at the top of your spine and you shiver with pleasure. In response, he presses closer to you.

“Hmm. I mean fair point but…” You encase him in your power and pin him to the mattress on his back, sitting up to straddle his hips. He stares, a little awestruck at his sudden position change. “I think the market will still be there later.”

“And the laundry?” He asks with a wink grasping your hips and settling himself within you.

“Sure.” He moves inside you causing you to gasp. “Whatever, just keep doing that.”

Eventually, you both manage to get dressed, however reluctantly. He slips into that red henley that made his eyes look somehow bluer and your mouth actually waters.

“What?” He asks, catching your hungry stare.

“Nothin’,” you say hopping up from the couch passing by him to wait by the door.

“Liar,” he whispers into your ear as he grabs you, holding your back to his chest. You laugh, your head falling onto his shoulder.

“Maybe,” you kiss the rough stubble of his jaw. “Come on, doing things was your idea old man, chop-chop.”

In the entryway to the apartment building, he goes over the list as you shoulder the laundry bag.

“Anything else?” He tucks a loose curl behind your ear.

“Plums,” you smile kissing his cheek, “if they have any good ones.”

“Got it.” He tilts your face up before planting a tender kiss on your lips, his blue eyes making your heart skip. “I love you, Y/N.”

“I love all of you.” You playfully push the bill of his blue baseball cap down covering his eyes. “Don’t forget the plums.” He laughs and smacks your ass playfully as you turn to go.

As the laundry spins in the washer you crack open your now well-worn copy of Frankenstein. Though you hope on the familiar words will soothe the anxiety that change inevitably brings, you can’t seem to focus on them. Instead, you let your head fall back, focusing absently on the flickering muted screen of an old staticky TV in the corner.

At first, you think you imagine it because… that couldn’t be Bucky’s image. Just a blurry photo and your mind, distracted as it is, is just filling in the blanks. But then you see the words flashing on the screen.

Blinking hard you shoot up from your chair, unwilling to believe what your eyes are clearly seeing. His name. His fucking name. Wanted. For…

“Fuck,” you breathe out. Too fast to be even remotely perceived as normal, you push past the people by the door to the laundromat and run home, laundry forgotten.

Rounding the corner onto your block you barrel into a police officer trying to keep curious onlookers at a safe distance.

“Sorry, Miss. It’s not safe here. Please stay back.”

“You don’t understand,” you say, trying desperately to keep your voice even. “I live here. I live here.”

He only shakes his head, “You will need to just wait. I’m sorry.”

Unwilling to waste any more time you walk away, telling yourself over and over, Do not run. Do not run. Running would be suspicious and you need to look like just anyone else right now. Throwing a cautious look over your shoulder you duck down a nearby alley.

With trembling hands, you pull your phone out and stare at the word knew you’d see. The one word that brings everything crashing down around you:

Burned.

All those months ago the two of you had laid out plans, one for every conceivable horrible occurrence. Each one had it’s own code word and plan of action. Each one had been drilled over and over until the steps and stages of each came as easy to you as breathing.

You know what you’re supposed to do. You know you’re supposed to trash your phone. Head to the apartment for supplies if possible. If not cut and run to the farmhouse. From there a 48 hour window for the other party to arrive. If they didn’t… you disappear and hope to find one another again, hope that fate was kind once more. Hope…

There’s the sound of splintering glass and crunching metal parts as you crush your phone in your hands, both from duty and the rage that’s beginning to burn through you. Dropping it to the ground you bend down to pluck the sim card from the heap and crush it as well for good measure.

Step one done.

It’s the only step you intend to take.

Reaching into your bag you fish out your scarf and tie it around your face—best to not be recognizable. Strapping your backpack on, you focus and propel yourself onto the roof above you, and then drop to the back of your building.

A lone swat agent notices you and yells at you to stand back. You don’t hesitate to land a blow straight to his throat, rip off his helmet off, and slam his head into the wall rendering him unconscious. Every movement is fluid and measured. Not an ounce of energy wasted. Bucky would be proud.

You’re almost to the side entrance to your building when you hear something on the opposite roof. Moments later the thundering sound of a chopper cuts the air before bullets begin to rain down. Fear clenches your chest. They have to be shooting at him.

Without a thought for the chaos above you, you slide into the parking garage next-door where Bucky’s bike waits. You don’t have the key but it’s easy enough for you to use your ability to force the starter to turn. Wheels squealing you peal out just in time to see Bucky running, being pursued by a person in black and… Captain America himself.

Ignoring them you pull up next to Bucky.

“Buck!” You call out, hand extended.

He throws you a sidelong glance, eyes winding in fear and maybe a flash of anger before he reaches for you. Your power just barely latches onto him while helping you control the bike one-handed.

The person in black kicks the back wheel of the bike causing you to lose your hold on Bucky and sending you skidding into traffic. It takes all your concentration to not crash and keep a line of sight on Bucky as he drops down into the underpass.

“Goddamnit,” you growl, throwing the bike around to find a way into the fray.

Soon the noise of the bike echoes alongside the other cars as you swerve between them, desperately attempting to catch up. The squealing of tires up ahead pushing you forward.

You’re sure you’re close when some fucker with wings is pulled down by the person in black. Hope blooms for a moment before a blast sends part of the roof plummeting down ahead of you. Barely avoiding it you bring your bike up just outside the rubble. A few curious citizens exit their cars and creep closer, phones out, to get a view of the scene before them.

A small sound slips from you as you watch what could only be considered a firing squad draw on them all. No one else should have heard it but Bucky did. He turns, searching for you through the dust. Before you can call out to him you’re being driven back with the other civilians by the police.

No, you silently say to yourself. No.

Grabbing the bike you thunder out of the underpass and circle around, breaking every known traffic law, to get to the exit you know they’ll need to take in order to get out. You make it just in time to catch the end of the motorcade.

Hanging back enough to not lose them but to remain suspicion free you follow.

You haven’t the slightest idea as to what you’re going to do—but you’ve never been able to save anyone else you loved, no one was going to take him from you.

The containment unit they put him in was well insulated. The only sounds are his own ragged breath, hissing slightly when the electric current passes through his left arm sending pain reverberating through his body, and the gentle hum of the electricity itself. If it wasn’t for the movement of the truck Bucky wouldn’t be sure if they were transporting him still or if they’d arrived to whatever hell they deemed appropriate for him this time.

Two categories of thought run over and over through his head, only interrupted when he feels the sway of the vehicle cease from time to time.

There was Steve. Steve had come for him. Not to bring him in, not to take him to task for what he did, nothing like that. Steve had come to warn him, had come to help him even though there was no way for him to know for sure whether or not Bucky was innocent, he couldn’t help but grin a little at that.

And then there was you. Love and anger and fear all pulsed through him in equal measure when he envisioned you on the bike, reaching for his hand. He should have known you wouldn’t run, should have known you wouldn’t listen to reason, follow the plan.

Bucky supposes that he should be thankful you didn’t rush into the line of fire to stop his arrest, you had that much sense at least. It was little comfort because he knows without any doubt that you’re trying to find him now—he also knows the massive target that places on your back.

He thinks he wants to be mad about this. Thinks he wants to tell you that you’re being needlessly reckless. He thinks these things because they’re easier to focus on than the stabbing sense of pain and longing that overcomes him when he wonders if he’ll ever even see you again—ever hold you in his arms, feel your lips, hear your laugh.

His head thuds back into the seat he’s strapped in, gnawing at his bottom lip in an attempt to keep himself from screaming because… Because the fact is, before you he’d have accepted this, wouldn’t have fought back at all, just taken it and let whatever would happen come, now that isn’t an option.

He hears Mr. Goldstein’s voice in the back of his head talking about the good moments… Bucky focuses on all the good ones with you, all the little things that brought him peace and happiness.

There is a way out of anything. He will find it. Find you.

All he can do for now is wait. To break out now could be a greater risk to both you and Steve. And, despite Steve’s warning, they were indeed taking him in alive so that meant something had already changed from the intel Steve was provided. They wanted him alive…

The realization makes his blood run cold.

You’d been riding for almost 20 hours. It made the trek you’d undertaken after escaping from Hydra feel like a pleasant hike.

The constant vibrations from the bike had left your lower body numb and maybe a little raw while the rest of you was exhausted from lack of sleep, food, and an overload of stress. Each time you had to stop to refuel or pull farther back to avoid notice your body buzzed with panic, afraid that you’d lose the motorcade entirely.

You don’t though. Without fail you hone in on the backside of the motorcade, the flashing lights guiding you in the darkness.

When your tired mind realizes that you’ve entered Berlin a familiar sense of dread settles over you. This was where you’d come after Hydra, before Bucharest. This was where you’d thought you’d be safe. And this is where you learned that being free did not mean that your fight was over.

It seemed fitting that this road would lead you back here then. Back to this reminder. Because here you were—still fighting. A deeper sense of exhaustion washes through you as you wonder if the fight will actually ever stop.

The motorcade slows as it approaches what appears to be a government facility of some kind. You pull the bike down a side street ditching it without a backward glance and casually make your way toward the buildings.

There’s a flurry of activity, everyone scrambling now that the Winter Soldier was on the premises. Good.

The chaos allows you to slip through the crowd like a shadow—unsuspecting, unnoticed, unimportant—and tail a group in swat gear. They begin to disperse, each to their own assignments until you’re only on the heels of one.

He seems more nervous than the others, distracted, a telltale tick in his hands. He rounds a corner into a quiet corridor and you follow only a few steps behind, constantly checking for any signs of others.

Hydra taught you how to do this, how to send out your power like an extension of yourself, feeling for things and people in your area. But this power was not theirs—it never was—this is yours and you will use it. All the little tendrils of power you send out touch nothing that seems organic. Just the person before you, unaware of your silent steps behind them.

Using a key card the officer opens a door marked as ‘Exit.’ You send out a bolt of your power to hold the latch as the door closes behind him.

Silently you crouch by the door, assessing, your senses honed in on this individual. There’s the sound of steps down one flight and then they stop, a sigh, the click of something like a lighter. Pushing the door open just a bit you catch a whiff of cigarette smoke. Perfect.

You open the door casually. The man having a, no doubt, forbidden smoke frantically tries to hide his transgression rather than check if you’re someone who should be here. Too bad for him.

It takes maybe a minute. He was a strong man, you can feel that in his struggle, but you were stronger. With his head locked in your arm, you use your power to cut off his air and blood flow just enough to render him unconscious quickly. You carry him down one more flight of stairs to be far from any quick lines of sight and quickly strip him.

The clothes are slightly too big but it’s fine, you leave him his boots and don the helmet to better disguise your features. Curling him into a ball you cover him with your jacket and hide his face with your cap before heading out the door you’d entered—braking the lock to make his discovery, hopefully, take a little longer.

Of course, you know fuck all about this building but if you had to hold a super soldier, underground would be best. You stand casually by an elevator and punch a button. A blonde woman huffs up next to you, looking down at a file folder seeming more distraught than happy at what’s happening around you both. Curious, you think but try to not pay her too much mind.

You focus your attention on the door instead, crossing your arms as if annoyed at the time the elevator is taking. Finally the doors open and you both step in. She’s by the keys and presses her number, scanning a security badge.

You can feel shrewd eyes assess you before she speaks, “Are you assigned to Barnes?” Her German is perfect but clearly accented. Not a native.

Forcing down the lump in your throat you nod and answer in German, “Yes.” You make a scoffing sound, “Last minute assignment. Needed a woman to meet the diversity requirements.”

Her eyes roll and she shakes her head, “And let me guess the men left you to figure out where to go on your own?”

“Exactly.” You’ve never been more grateful for the patriarchy.

“Assholes,” the woman grumbles in English and punches another button.

“Thanks,” you point to what you assume is the floor you need.

“Gotta lookout, right?” She smiles. Before stepping out she looks back at you, “I don’t think he’s what they say he is. For what that’s worth. Make sure they aren’t too harsh.”

Words fail you and you only manage a nod. She gives you a sad smile and exits, leaving you alone.

Did she… know somehow? Your mind races to try and locate where you may have seen her before but you’re certain that you have never met. How could she know? Maybe she didn’t. Maybe there really were just people who could look past the bullshit.

You don’t have much more time to mull it over. Three floors away the power cuts sending the elevator to a shuddering halt. A cold foreboding settles across your shoulders but your heartbeat stays steady, thrumming in time with the red flashing light.

Every instinct screams that this is wrong. It was too convenient. Too perfect.

Your power confirms that the elevator has stalled between floors. Sliding it between the doors you use that and your strength to pry them open and shimmy out into a corridor filled with people scurrying like rats.

At first, there’s nothing but noise but you narrow in, catching bits of the frantic chatter.

“Breached containment.”

“Rampage.”

“The Winter Soldier is loose.”

Your mouth feels desert dry. You’d been heading for him before, knew roughly where to find him. Now…

“What the fuck are you doing officer?!” An angry, official-looking, man grabs your shoulders. “He’s heading up, now’s no time to freeze. Go!” He pushes you against the flow of bodies and you start to run.

They were running from him… Why…

You turn a few corners and head up a flight of stairs until the space opens up into a bright lobby. The beautiful day outside the windows is a stark contrast to the chaos unfolding before you.

Desperately you try to assess what’s going on, try to grasp it. He’s fighting off every person who comes at him with a cold ferocity.

Part of you screams to rush in but you know it’s best to read the room, the last thing you want is to get in his way. But as soon as you hear the gun go off, see him land a hard blow to who you suspect is Tony Stark--remembering seeing his face on magazine covers and gossip shows in the past--your feet move, unable to hold back any longer.

The woman from the elevator rushes Bucky. You catch her in your power and drag her back. She gasps in surprise, righting herself quickly. Throwing yourself between him and her you catch her kick, grabbing her leg and spinning her around sending her to the floor.

“What the hell!” She exclaims scrabbling to her feet.

“Sorry,” you shrug countering her next blow with your power before landing a right hook to her jaw and a lung crunching blow to her sternum. She stumbles back into a heap.

Bucky has Natasha Romanoff punned to a table, her throat in his metal grip. It only takes a second for you to realize that if he continues he will kill her.

“Bucky stop!” You grip his shoulder trying to pry him off of her.

He whirls on you. He just doesn’t realize, you tell yourself. Quickly you fling the helmet away before dodging a swing.

“Buck-” Metal knuckles graze your cheek, flashes of your first encounter searing through your mind, as you sway back to avoid the full blow.

Before you can recover he’s got you in his grip, lifting you from the ground. You use your power to keep your body weight from making the bad situation worse, trying to keep blood and air flowing from beneath his metal fingers when you understand with earth-shattering clarity… Bucky isn’t in control now.

No.

You know this is why the two of you trained so hard. This specific worst-case scenario. He wanted you to beat him back, hurt him so badly that he couldn’t hurt you worse. But… you just can’t.

“It’s me,” you croak, reaching your hand out to touch his face. “Bu-” there isn’t enough air in your lungs to finish his name. Through the growing haze, you see just a moment of horror flash across his face. Recognition. It’s enough.

You find yourself sailing through the air, body careening with Romanoff, who was heading for another volley. She grunts under you, rolling you over and pinning you beneath her.

“Who the fuck are you?!” She snarls.

“No one,” you snap, butting your forehead into her nose and tossing her aside as a man sprints up the stairs on Bucky’s heels.

He’s there, just beneath the surface, he’s trying. You just have to get to him.

Still gasping for air you pursue them. You try and fail to send your power out to the man but your head is reeling. Before you realize it’s happening you’re tangled in them as they tumble down a flight of stairs.

The three of you right yourselves and you place yourself between Bucky and this man. He has to be enhanced, his blows coming rapid and fluid. Bucky doesn’t seem to be viewing you as an enemy any longer, instead, you both move together, fighting like one unit, deflecting his strikes with almost beautiful precision.

He moves to attack you but Bucky catches it with his left arm. Impossibly the man holds him back. Head clear you push a blast of power between them. Bucky stumbles a bit before he jumps over the railing dropping down. As you move to follow the man lands a hard blow to the back of your skull.

Blackness envelops you and when your vision clears and they’re both gone.

Groaning you lift yourself up leaning against the wall—the weight of the last 30 hours thundering into you, threatening to suffocate you. The two of you should be at the farmhouse by now, curled together, getting ready for a new life. But no.

Focusing on that was going to get you nowhere. You’d promised to take care of one another…

Your eyes sting, “Mr. Goldstein,” you whisper to the eerily quiet air, “if you’re looking out… help me find him… Please.” Your voice cracks and you take a shaky breath before rising on trembling legs.

Unsure of where to go next you head out into the courtyard, teeming with nothing but panicked people. Well… almost.

A familiar-looking man hovers near the edge of the courtyard, a bastion of calm in the chaos, clearly observing everything happening around him. Finally, you place him, he’d been arrested along with Steve and Bucky in Bucharest. Even so, there is no telling if you can trust this man, but if he can get you to Bucky-

The crowd erupts in fresh screams as the sound of a crash echoes across the complex. Both of you rush to the edge of the river only to see the fractured pieces of a helicopter sink.

Every muscle in your body wants to jump in. He’s in there! Your heart screams—but your gut says, Wait.

Carefully, you slide your gaze over. The man doesn’t seem to have noticed you, but he seems to have seen something else. You glance back but don’t notice anything significant. He turns on his heel, walking purposefully from the courtyard. You cast a desperate glance back to the river before following him, your gut winning this fight.

You follow him on foot on a long, winding, route. Each step, each moment you think he’s come to his destination only to continue on, each time you narrowly escape his keen observations leaving you more and more exhausted.

You’re so close to breaking that when he finally enters a dilapidated building in an industrial complex and doesn’t exit you nearly weep—you may not know if Bucky is here but you do know your body cannot take much more.

Ignoring the chill rising up your spine as you hear helicopters overhead, you slip into the building silent as a shadow, only the tips of your boots touching the ground just enough to allow you to pivot if needed.

Steve and the man are in a room away from the main space judging by their raised voices. It was pure luck, there were few spaces to hide in the open building, had they been there you’d be seen. Still… If you’re going to wait them out you need a place to hide Thankfully, most people rarely, if ever, thought to look up.

Praying your power holds out you push yourself from the ground and perching above the doorway to the room they occupy, listening.

“He tried to kill us!” One of them bellows. “I get trying to repay some kind of old debt or something. But you pulled him out, I’d say you’re even.”

“I get it, Sam,” Steve says, voice low and thick with emotion.

“Do you?” The person you assume is Sam growls out.

“Yes. But I can’t just… He wouldn’t leave me behind, he’d never-”

“Steve…”

“I just need to know. I need to know if he…”

“The odds aren’t looking good man,” Sam sighs out. “You really think that’s gonna hold him when he comes to?”

When he comes to… Those words light a fire in your veins, chasing away the bone-crushing exhaustion from a moment before.

He is here. He’s right here. You almost rush down to him but sense wins—he was there, unconscious. Sure, you may be able to fight these two off but you couldn’t get you both to safety if he was dead weight. Plus… when he woke would he be himself…

You hear shuffling from the room. Panicked, you push yourself up a bit higher, using the old pipe as support, and guide yourself to a far corner, toes resting on the pipe, body curled against the rafters. And so you wait.

Sam and Steve make rounds of the building a few times, never thinking to look up just like you suspected. As you wait you see two different versions of Steve Rogers.

When Sam is around he’s solid, seemingly unshaken by what’s happened. Donning the mask of a leader without thought. The moment Sam goes into the other room though… the mask is gone. Steve looks smaller somehow, shoulders slumped, pace less measured. His fingers run through his hair over and over in a nervous tick. Just like Bucky, you think with a smile.

It feels like an age before Sam calls to Steve sending your heart into your throat. Steve sprints into the room, following Sam.

Silently you return to your place above the door. A small pained noise hits your ears causing your heart to seize. Bucky… Patience, you coach yourself to keep from doing something stupid.

“Steve,” he says in a huff.

“Which Bucky am I talkin’ to?” Steve’s voice is cold, the mask back on. There’s a pause and you don’t dare breathe.

“Your mom’s name was Sarah…” Your body tenses. “You used to wear newspapers in your shoes,” Bucky says, a soft laugh coloring his tone.

Tears sting your eyes and you feel yourself breath just a little easier. It’s him. He’s alive and in control and… he is yours. Steve may want answers, may even be willing to help, but you don’t know them and don’t trust them. You’re going to get the two of you out of here no matter what it takes.

Dropping down you fling Sam across the room, with a blast of power that surprises even you, before they even realize you’re there.

Steve, caught off guard rushes you—he doesn’t get far. You grab his ankles and with a flick of your wrist, you send him to the ground, his own momentum working against him. Sam was up again but you pin him easily enough as you slam a wall of force down on Steve to keep him down.

“Y/N!” Bucky gasps as you hurry to his side.

You can’t speak, scared that you’ll lose focus, already feeling the tingle of pain in your skull from using so much power. His arm is caught in a vice of some sort. Groaning you use your hands to pry it open just enough for him to get loose. Steve slips your hold and lunges but you manage to push him back.

“What the fuck is this?!” Rage rumbles in Sam’s words.

“Bucky?” Steve looks at Bucky behind you, eyes begging for answers.

“It’s ok,” Bucky says, voice steady behind you. His arms wrap around you, pulling your back tight against his chest. “It’s ok,” he says again, breath hot on your ear. “Let them go, Y/N.”

“No,” your voice steadier than you anticipated. “We need to go, we have to-”

“It’s ok, doll,” he coos, like you were waking from a bad dream. Steve’s eyes are on Bucky still, some silent communion taking place because Steve nods before Bucky says, “We can trust them, it’s ok.”

But it wasn’t. Nothing was ok… Pain cracks through your skull, your power recoiling as it thunders back, and you shudder. His grip loosens and the other two men don’t move as you turn in his arms.

“Bucky,” your voice cracks.

“It’s ok,” he repeats, his kind eyes studying your face, “I’ve got y-” Gentle metal fingers trace the bruise forming on your cheek and wander down to your throat. “Who…” Realization dawns with horror on his face as he pushes you away stumbling back.

“It wasn’t you,” your voice soft. It feels like the oxygen in the room has been replaced with tension. You place a hand on his arm and he pulls away, it hurts worse than any bruise.

“Wasn’t…” he shakes his head, tremors tearing him as he collapses onto the floor, back to the vice that held him a moment before. He turns desperate eyes to Steve, “What did I do?”

Steve looks at your own desperate expression, begging him to be kind. “Enough,” he says. Bucky’s eyes squeeze shut, his head hitting the metal behind him with a painful thud. You fall to his side, taking his face in your hands, trying to force him to look at you.

“You didn’t-”

“I knew this would happen,” it’s barely a whisper, his eyes refusing to meet yours. “It’s all still there, everything Hydra put in my head.”

“And you’re still there too. You. Bucky Barnes,” your voice is strong now, needing him to hear you. “You stopped yourself from killing people, from killing me. You fought-”

“I hurt you,” his eyes finally met yours, the pain there threatening to swallow you both.

“I’ve hurt you, remember?” Your hand rests on his abdomen where purple bruises once bloomed darkly after you lost control during a flashback.

“This disfunction is touching but who the hell are you?”

“Sam,” Steve says, warning in his tone. You glare at Sam over your shoulder before Bucky coaxes you to sit between his legs, clearly wanting you both to remain as non-threatening as possible.

“What?” He gestures at you and Bucky. “It’s a fair question considering both of them have thrown my ass across a room today.”

“He has a point,” Steve looks to Bucky.

You sigh, “Y/N. My name is, Y/N.” Silence hangs for a moment.

“Like Cher? Just the one name?” Sam crosses his arms and cocks a brow at you.

“Yeah,” you smirk up at him. “Just like, Cher.”

Bucky’s arms tighten around you, his focus on Steve, “She’s my girl.” You see Steve’s face soften.

“So the assassin has a girlfriend and I can’t even get a date?” Sam rolls his eyes shaking his head.

“Have you considered, or rather reconsidered, your winning personality?” You snipe back, watching Sam fight a smile.

“Are you both done?” Steve looks between you and Sam.

“For now,” Sam sighs, sitting on the floor as well, his back to the wall.

Steve runs a hand through his hair, “What did that guy want with you Buck? The doctor.”

“I… I don’t know.” A tremor runs through his body behind you and you give his forearm a comforting squeeze.

“I need you to try and remember. He attacked some of the most powerful people in the world for the opportunity to get 10 minutes alone with you. We need to know why.”

“He said he didn’t know,” you bristle.

Steve doesn’t acknowledge you, “Bucky…”

“He… He wanted to know about… Si-Siberia.” Bucky’s voice is strained, as though reaching for this information is painful. “Where I was kept…” You shift in his hold so your back is pressed against his inner thigh to be able to see his face.

“Why?” Your brows knit. Of all the things-

“Because… I’m not the only Winter Soldier,” he says, eyes glued to the middle distance, unable to meet anyone’s gaze.

Your body goes stiff, blood cold, as he lays out the story. Flashes fill your mind when he speaks on the serum they pumped into the agents—blue and burning and… running through your own veins. Without thinking your fingers wander to the track marks on your arms, tracing them over and over again while Bucky describes what these other soldiers are capable of.

Sam and Steve huddle together talking. Bucky’s warm fingers catch your hand, “It’s because of me. Like I said. They were able to do this to you because of me…”

“You were Hydra,” Steve turns on you both, voice dripping with venom.

“No,” Bucky says.

“You said those people were Hydra-” Sam starts.

“I’m not fucking Hydra,” your voice shakes. “I wasn’t one of them. They… they took me.”

“Why?” Steve’s expression is cold, distrusting.

Your jaw clenches as you send Steve stumbling back several paces. “That’s why,” you growl.

“You trust her?” Steve asks Bucky.

“With my life,” Bucky says. The certainty in his voice makes your heart sing.

“I think the question here is do you trust him?” Sam asks Steve, voice laced with disbelief.

“I do.”

“So some heartfelt sharing and just like that we’re supposed to be cool? That makes sense.”

Sighing heavily you run your hand over your face, feeling the weight of exhaustion beginning to press in once more. “I think a fucking Hydra death squad being let lose is a more pressing matter than who trusts who don’t you?”

“She’s right,” Steve says. He walks over to Sam, taking a seat beside him. “We need a plan.”

“You plan things now?” Bucky asks, a note of humor coloring his words. Sam issues a knowing scoff causing Steve to glare at them both.

“Whatever the plan we should sort it out in a better place than this.” You say, looking around the space. “Like maybe a place with a door that locks?”

“Open to suggestions,” Steve says.

“I think I noticed some shitty hotels not too far away.” You try to think of the buildings you passed on your way here.

“In case it slipped your notice we’re kind of being hunted,” Sam says.

You grin, “You guys are being hunted. I’m not.” Steve’s smile mirrors your own.

“Absolutely not,” Bucky’s tone is no-nonsense.

You spin on him, “Do you have a better idea?” His jaw flexes as you stare at him. “Didn’t think so. We need to get out of here to someplace where we can sort this shit out and I’m the only one here who’s face hasn’t been plastered across news channels around the whole damn world.”

His eyes narrow, “What exactly do you think we’re gonna sort out? You’re going to get the hell out of here and we-” he gestures to the other men-“will find a way to-”

“The hell you will!” You shoot to your feet, staring down at him in shock. “You just said some psycho is planning to unleash a bevy of Hydra fuckery onto the world and you actually think I’m going to run off like some damsel?!”

“Y/N-”

“Don’t. There isn’t anything to discuss. I’m in this. We are in this.”

“Oh I like her,” Sam says with a smile. Bucky gives him a murderous look but doesn’t argue further.

Despite Bucky’s protest you’re soon ditching the top of your stolen tactical gear in favor of Sam’s leather jacket and sneaking off into the growing afternoon shadows.

First thing you need is cash.

It feels like old times as you slide into a dim pub, already filling with patrons fresh off from work, and effortlessly slide a few wallets and money clips out and away from their owners. You ditch the wallets, cards, and IDs in the bathroom trash and move to head out before your reflection catches your attention in the mirror.

The circles under your eyes are practically purple in the light, your hair a tousled mess. You sigh heavily, resting your hands on the sink as your stomach roars. No time for that now. Instead, you drink from the faucet long and deep, splash some water on your face, and get back to the tasks at hand.

It’s full dark by the time you pull up to the warehouse.

When you see Bucky he looks like he’s about two minutes from razing Berlin to find you.

“What took so long?” He grumbles once you’re inside.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Could you steal cash, a car, get food, and find the most questionable hotel in Berlin faster? I’ll be sure to let you do it next time.” Behind you Sam snickers.

Bucky pulls you into his arms. “I’m just happy you’re ok.” You look up, giving him a weak smile before resting your head on his chest, your eyes begging to close.

“Are we clear?” Steve asks.

“Yeah.” You nod toward the exit and they follow, Bucky taking your hand in his.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Sam says, gawking at the beat-up Beetle waiting for you all.

“It’s a classic,” you say over your shoulder. “Plus, no one is gonna look for two super soldiers and a… Bird… Guy, in this.”

“It’s Falcon,” Sam throws at you as he rounds the car to pry open the rusty passenger door. “Bird Guy,” he mutters under his breath, folding himself into the back seat. Steve chuckles a little as he somehow shoves himself in beside Sam.

Before Bucky releases your hand you sway a bit.

“Baby doll?” He steadies you, hands on your shoulders.

“Just tired,” you say, doing your best to sound nonchalant. His eyes brim with concern. “Seriously. I’m ok. I’ve got you.” You place your hand over the steady thrum of his heart.

He shakes his head, the corner of his mouth rising a bit, and lowers his lips to your forehead. A knocking on the small back window of the car hits your ears.

“Not to ruin the moment but…” Sam says. You both laugh a little before climbing into the car.

“You boys comfy back there?” You ask, looking back at them through the rearview mirror.

“Yeah-” Steve’s knees jam into the back of Bucky’s seat- “plenty of room to spread out.”

“Still a punk,” Bucky huffs pushing his seat back a little farther.

The three of you stand in the doorway to the hotel room, giving yourselves a moment to acclimate to the stale smell.

“Getting scabies is the perfect way to top off this shitty day,” Sam sighs out.

“It’s been more than a day,” Steve says dryly.

“Rogers. Shut up.” Sam shoulders past you all. “I’m taking a shower.” He’s in the bathroom for about thirty seconds before he exits.

“On second thought, dealing with my stink is the least you all owe me.” He immediately face plants on the nearest bed, the cry of old springs filling the room.

“Maybe the other bathroom is better,” you say opening the door to the adjoining room, Bucky silently trailing behind you. It’s equally musty but the bathroom doesn’t look like someone died in it recently. You’d certainly showered in worse.

“This one isn’t so bad, Sam,” you call out to him.

“Nope,” he says, voice muffled. “Too late.”

Steve shakes his head at Sam’s prone form as he sits on the edge of the other bed. Relief floods his features as he lifts the receiver on the old phone, it must actually work. His eyes run over you and Bucky, hovering by the door to the other room, then back to Sam.

“I’m gonna make some calls. You guys get some rest and I’ll get you when we’ve got enough intel to start putting together a plan.”

“You sure?” Bucky asks, wrapping an arm around your waist.

“Yeah,” Steve smiles. The two of you turn to leave. “And, Y/N…” You turn back to Steve. “Thank you.” His words are filled with sincerity and hold so much more than their simplicity would suggest.

“I think I owe you at least a few.” You glance up at Bucky. Steve pulled him from the river and likely did more that you didn’t know. Something tells you that you’d have lost Bucky today was it not for him.

“I’d say we’re even.” He sighs, “Rest up. We’re gonna need it.”

Bucky closes the door behind him and your legs finally give out as you collapse on the edge of the bed, your head held in your hands. Suddenly your breath is ragged, body trembling, you don’t have an ounce of will left in you to control either.

The sound of angry springs tells you he’s perched on the opposite bed.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky says, his voice rough. You look up at him, his expression is bereft. “You don’t have to do any of this, Y/N. You don’t. This doesn’t have to be your fight.”

You’re too tired to be mad at him but you bristle all the same. “It is my fight.” His brows knit and you press on. “He came for you. That makes this my fight, even without Hydra being involved.” Venom drips from your next words, “And if I get my hands on him first. I swear I’ll break him in every way I know how.”

Bucky rises, kneeling on the ground in front of you, gathering your hands in his. It reminds you of when you first met, how he’d kept you from being crushed under the weight of your grief, even after you’d attacked him and tied him to a wall. Your eyes sting with tears and you try to swallow the lump in your throat.

“Y/N…” His thumbs run over the ridges of your knuckles before he lifts your hands to press a kiss on the back of each. “You’re my whole heart. The one good thing that’s come from the nightmare that the last 70 years has been… And I need you to promise me something.”

All you can do is nod, unwilling to say anything too committal.

“Promise me that if…” He swallows hard looking away for a moment before turning his focus back to you. “That no matter what happens to me… Promise you won’t give up.”

No matter what happens… The implications make your chest seize. You look away, trying to pull from his grip but he holds you tight.

“Y/N,” his voice is calm and steady, “look at me.” Begrudgingly you do. “We don’t know what may happen, we never did. But now…” Now the threat was more tangible. You close your eyes, trying to fight back the tears.

“I just need to know that you’ll keep going,” his voice cracks on the last word. You open your eyes—tears, breaching their banks, flow silently down your cheeks—and study the face of the man you love.

He was so beautiful. Those eyes that told his story often better than his perfect mouth ever could. The lips you loved to feel on your skin, hiding a smile that you knew could shame the sun. You pull your hand free from his and trace his strong brows, the crease between them that formed when he was worried or thinking too much. Your thumb dashes away a lone tear that sneaks out of the corner of his eye and take a deep, shaky, breath.

A part of you wants to give him what he wants—promise him that you’ll be fine, thrive even, no matter what. A part wishes you were that unbreakable… but you’re not. A world without him… It wasn’t unimaginable, you’d lost too many people to be that naive, but it was a nightmare to consider. You can’t promise him much but you can give him something.

“I promise I’ll try…”

His smile is soft, a little sad, as he pulls your hand from his face to press a kiss to your palm. “That’s enough.”

“You have to do the same though.” His eyes narrow, body tensing a bit. You knew he’d only seen one side of this, the one where he’s taken in or down—but he wasn’t the only one heading into this situation, there was enough risk to go around.

His jaw flexes and you think he’s going to protest but instead, he says, “I promise, Y/N.” You give a small nod, face contorting as you press down a sob, too scared to fall apart now.

Bucky takes your face in his hands, pressing his lips to yours with an intensity that takes your breath away. Your chest fills as though you haven’t truly taken a breath since you’d last tasted him. His fingers tangle in your hair, his tongue sliding between your teeth. A small sob finally breaks free from you, but he catches it and the pain it carries with his kiss.

A hurricane of love, fear, relief, and exhaustion rages through you. Rather than fight it, you let it come, let the tears flow, let him gather you in his arms and carry you into the tiny bathroom, setting you on the sink.

Your kisses taste like the sea as your hands clumsily tear at each other’s filthy clothes until they reach purchase on the flesh they crave. Everything slows then. Each touch becoming less desperate and more reverential, memorizing the dips and curves of each other because… Because maybe this is the last time.

You won’t give that thought any space to take root.

Bucky turns the water in the shower on, steaming hot before lifting you in his arms again. You wrap your legs around his waist feeling the length of him brush against you. Once in the enveloping warmth of the shower he slowly slides inside you.

For a few minutes, you remain connected like this, staring into each other’s eyes. You want to remember this, remember how he feels, how his eyes are always so blue when they’re wide with wanting.

Under the heat of the water the two of you make love as though there isn’t disaster dangling just beyond your line of sight—unhurried, sighing love between kisses, whispering it into ears, saying it with your bodies as you both come together, quietly.

You’d just slipped your teeshirt back on when a knock sounds quietly on the other side of the door between the rooms. Bucky answers, still roughly toweling his hair in only his jeans.

“Hey, sorry,” Steve says somewhat awkwardly. “I got through to some folks faster than I thought I would.”

“That’s great,” Bucky says. You come up behind him, handing him his white undershirt, as you both head to the other room.

Sam smirks at the two of you, “How’s the shower?”

Bucky makes a small noise and you laugh, “Passable.”

“Good.” Sam looks to Steve, “Lay it out, Rogers.”

Steve leans by the window, arms crossed. “Sharon is going to meet us an 0700. Thankfully she’s not one to hold grudges.”

Bucky’s face drops, “Did I-”

“Pretty blonde?” You ask taking a shot in the dark and cutting him off from falling into that guilt trip.

“Yeah,” Steve nods.

“No worries there babe, that one’s on me.” You pat his shoulder and sit on the empty bed. Bucky raises a brow before joining you.

Steve shakes his head, “She’s got mine and Sam’s gear and agreed to grab a few things for the two of you as well.”

“That’s generous,” Bucky says with suspicion.

“It wasn’t hard to convince her after I explained what was going on.”

“And Clint?” Sam asks.

“Yup. He’s on board and is gonna reach out to Wanda and get your guy, Lang.”

“Wouldn’t call him my guy,” Sam says, groaning as he sits up. “But if he can get the drop on me I say he’s a good addition.”

Steve looks at you, “Assuming you’re in too?”

“Absolutely.” Bucky takes your hand in his, holding tight. Steve nods in approval.

Steve gives you an approving nod, “Then we rendezvous at the airport. Clint is covering transpo. From there we head to Siberia and hope we can stop him before he topples whatever empire he’s aiming for.”

“Alright.” Sam stands to stretch. “You two cool with switching rooms? I need to shower.”

“Fine with me,” you look at Bucky and he nods in approval.

Once the guys leave you lay on top of the dingy comforter. It takes all of one minute for you to fall into a deep sleep.

Bucky counts your breaths, hoping they will lull him to sleep. Instead, he finds himself studying your face, the little sounds you make, the way your lashes just barely graze your cheeks.

He almost lost this.

Like a memory from a nightmare he recalls his left hand tight on your throat, the look of terror and determination in your eyes, your hand reaching out, calling his name. He can still feel the shock through his skull as your name thundered into his consciousness then. You had been enough to pull him back, even if only for a moment.

Just before dawn he’s restless, body humming with anxiety and anticipation.

Delicately he extricates himself from the bed, hovering for a moment to make sure you’re not awake. He heads out into the hall, propping the door open with the latch to make sure he’ll hear any sign of you waking.

“Had a feeling I’d see you out here eventually,” Steve says from his spot on the floor just down the hall. “You never could sleep the night before a mission.”

“Neither could you.” Bucky slides down the wall across from Steve.

Steve’s gaze is focused on his palms, forearms resting on his knees. He doesn’t look up when he says, “How much… How much do you really remember?”

Bucky sighs, “I…” His mouth goes dry suddenly, unsure of how to quantify this. Then he remembers the stories he shared with you, a smile rising to his face.

“I remember that one time we got caught sneaking into the pictures and hid out in a dumpster.” Steve laughs a little but still doesn’t look up. “I remember DumDum always challenging you to a drinking contest knowing he’d lose every time. And…” Bucky swallows hard, smile falling, “I remembered… I remembered what I said when your Ma passed.” This causes Steve to look up, eyes big and glassy.

“The end of the line,” Bucky says, voice thick with emotion. Quickly he dashes away tears threatening to fall, not wanting Steve to ever see him break. “I’m so sorry, Steve. I tried-” He doesn’t finish, cut off by Steve’s bone-crushing embrace.

It takes him a minute to realize that Steve keeps repeating, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” like a chant under his breath.

“Pal-” Bucky pats his back firmly- “you’ve got nothing to be sorry for.”

“I do,” Steve barely manages as he pulls back, Adam’s apple bobbing hard in his throat. “I couldn’t save you. All the times you backed me up, saving my ass, again and again, our whole lives and… when it mattered-”

Bucky shakes his head, “You’re impossible.” Steve leans against the wall next to him, wiping his nose on his arm. “Did you forget pulling me, hell the lot of us, out of that facility? Thought I was the one with memory problems, man.”

Steve throws him one of his signature sidelong looks. Bucky grins, knowing that means he’s getting through.

“Do you remember it?” Steve takes a shaky breath, “The train?”

“No.”

Steve sniffs hard, nodding and clearing his throat.

“Y/N, must be somethin’.” There’s nothing false in the smile he throws Bucky’s way. “Don’t think I ever saw you look at a gal like that.”

Bucky huffs a small laugh, casting a quick glance at the cracked door. “I don’t think I ever did.”

“You deserve that, Buck.”

“Not sure about that. But I want to…”

Steve claps a hand on his shoulder, “You do, brother. I promise.” Bucky manages a half-smile.

“Steve…” He rubs his hands together, unsure if he has any right to ask this, but knowing he has to. “If anything happens to me…”

“I’ll have her back.” Bucky looks at him, a little slack-jawed. “You’re my family, Bucky. That makes her family too.”

“Thank you, Steve.”

“Don’t mention it.” He shoves his shoulder into Bucky’s. “But, let’s both try to make it out of this one.”

“Deal.” Bucky sighs, leaning his head back against the wall.

“I lost her… Peggy,” Steve says after several minutes. Bucky had figured as much but his chest tightens all the same. “They buried her two days ago.”

“Oh, Stevie…” The old nickname slips out and he cringes a bit, remembering Steve hated it. He’d assumed Peggy, everyone, had been gone for some time by now.

“It’s ok.” A sad smile fills Steve’s face, tears threatening. “You did say that I’d regret waiting. You were right.” Bucky doesn’t know what to say, he just rests what he hopes is a comforting hand on Steve’s knee.

“Don’t waste any time you have together, Buck.” Steve stands suddenly, shaking off the sadness like it was nothing. Bucky knows its bullshit, just a front Steve Rogers was good at putting up. He holds a hand out and pulls Bucky up.

“Get your ass back in there. We’ve got almost two hours until we leave.”

Bucky smiles tightly and nods before heading into the room.

You’re still asleep when he closes the door quietly behind him. He slides up next to you, pulling you tight to his chest, pressing kisses to your brow.

“Bucky,” you say in a groggy voice.

“Mhm,” he hums.

“Is everything ok?”

“Yup. We have a little while before we roll out.”

You nod, “Good.”

“Kiss me,” he says low. That’s all he wants to do until you run out of time. Kiss you, hold you. Pry one more good moment from this mess of a situation.

Tag List

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#bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x enhanced!reader #civil war #CACW #bucky feels #enhanced!reader

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blufirre · 4 years

Text

In the Fields We Lie

So this is something that I’ve been working on for a month now and I hardly ever finish bigger projects like this simply due to lack of motivation lol. But here it is!! I’m proud that I made myself go through with this even if it’s not the best out there, I just like telling stories :) Also @cherryyharryy I’m tagging you here to let you know that I finally put it up! Amber I appreciate you for looking forward to reading this! I thank you and Sarah, @harryforvogue , for giving me your support!!

Chapter One: (I don’t know if or what I should name this chapter so if you have suggestions please let me know!)

---

They say that in the midst of darkness and a time where nothing prospers, the mind wonders and wanders. This is the time where inspiration strikes and masterpieces are made. There is, more than anything else we have, is time. And what we do in that allotted space is up to us to choose. What shall we occupy ourselves with? Where do our minds wander off to? Do we take this time to care for ourselves if that’s an option? We, for a fact, daydream that this newfound reality is something more peaceful than what it is, that before this all happened that we had taken every opportunity to do the things that we had desired. Do we read the books we’ve acquired but never got around to reading if we have access to them? Should we seek out loved ones and write them to see how they’re coping? What we make of this situation is our choice, but ultimately we need to distract ourselves from the horridness that’s outside.

Every life is valuable but only a select few see the importance of this. The common folk are the first to panic and cause chaos. They tend to be more conservative and harsh towards anyone they do not know. Unwilling to lend a hand to fellow citizens in need. Now, this does not apply to all of the population, there are some good hearted people out there, those are the ones who will survive. The ones who are selfless instead of selfish are the ones you can trust, and you’ll know that they’ll save your ass. These are often the people that will give you half of anything they got because they understand how unkind and riotous the world can be.

In this time of uncertainty, of course, you have no choice but to try and keep yourself safe. Whether it be working to put food on the table or simply staying inside when you can. Now for some unfortunate souls, this really isn’t an option they get to choose, it was made for them; others offered up their life for the land they lived on. Being picked out of this sea of men, all having to be a certain height, weight, age, and they have to be healthy. If you meet the criteria, you’re already signed up and packing your bags. You don’t know when you’ll be going, to ruin your fresh young adulthood, but it’s only a matter of time before you’ll be ripped away from it. The game of time is a bastard to all who have to endure it. Especially so to a twenty year old man who didn’t see this coming.

—

This story dates back to May 1914 when Harry Styles was a young innocent soul. He was only worried about getting to work on time and pleasing the cute girl next door. Even though his life was simple he enjoyed it very much so.

Before the war Harry had had a busy childhood. He wasn’t fully allowed to go out with his friends due to the fact he had to help his father with the upkeep of their family farm. Most of his free time was spent tending to the cows and helping his mother cook meals. His mother often fought for him so he could enjoy his youth, which led his father to start arguments saying that Harry needed to do his part for the household. More times than not he would do what his father expected of him because he couldn’t stand to see his mom upset at some of the things that came out of his dad's mouth.

As he got older he learned that the quicker he did his duties, the faster he could get ready and have fun. He doesn’t like to admit it either, but the faster he worked, the less time he had to spend with his father. Alongside everything he was also balancing his academics, and once he reached the age of sixteen he had gained other responsibilities. His mother got pregnant with his younger sister and his father had gotten severely ill. It wasn’t easy for Harry to give up his life at such a young age, but he loved his family and would do anything for them, even if that meant losing time on his clock.

For six weeks his father was bedridden with pneumonia and couldn’t bring himself to even lift his head off his pillow. Harry did everything he could, fed his father, gave him sponge baths, took up the work of two on the farm, while also watching over his mother when she had days where she couldn’t get up herself. During this stressful time, was a time to reflect on how much Harry appreciated what his dad did around the house. And being appreciative of the ways he grew up, some of them anyways. Going out there and doing your job right and doing it early so that you don’t have to worry about it not being done later. Having this discipline is what keeps him together while he takes care of everyone and it’ll help him take care of himself and others in a few short years.

He doesn’t like to think about his past, but he’s almost forced to when he spots a familiar face that looks like his own in the local grocer. Seeing him happens every couple months, it’s bound to because Harry hasn’t moved far from home, when he wishes he could afford to so he doesn’t have to deal with the man that’s on the other side of the store. Always stays out of sight, not necessarily in fear that his father will lash out on him for leaving. The lecturing he could deal with. Asking him why the hell he couldn’t stay and be there, especially for his mother. Harry can’t bear to see the possible disappointment and worn look that he may give him. His poor mother! He hasn't heard from her since the day Minnie passed. Can’t remember the sound of her voice if his life depended on it. Hasn’t received letters despite the fact that he gave them his address, and nobody visited either. At this point it’s obvious to him that his parents might not want to speak to him again. He can understand where they’re coming from, their eldest abandoning them to live a life he wasn’t certain of, no idea where he was taking himself.

He’s so lost in his thoughts about everything he went through just two years ago that he’d zoned out in the middle of the grocer. He didn’t even feel the tap on his shoulder from the man behind him saying his name, “Harry?” As quick as hearing the word come out of his father's mouth, he snapped out of his trance and froze, not knowing what to do he just stayed where he was. It was quiet and weak but he heard it, “H-Harry, just know that we miss you, son. Devastated without you.”

It took every ounce of strength that man had to spill his thoughts in a public place, even if it was brief. Harry knew that because his father wasn’t the type to let anyone know how he was feeling. Even when Minnie died, he didn’t shed a tear. He did, however, started to drink more than usual, got angry more often. That’s what sticks out the most when thinking about his father, how that emotion resembled him in Harry’s mind. Sometimes he wonders what his childhood and his relationship with the man who raised him would’ve looked like had there been proper emotional projection. Perhaps the man was suffering his own battles that the world didn’t know about.

When he turned around he was faced with empty space, no trace of his father. With tears building up in his eyes Harry frantically looks around the small store and through the very few isles it did have, nothing. He had forgotten what he went there for to begin with, but leaving he was determined to find him. For an old man he had walked fast, fast enough that Harry couldn’t see him anywhere down both ends of the road. So he was left standing in the brisk air, thinking to himself that he should’ve said something, anything. If he wasn’t too damn scared to turn around maybe he’d be on his way to his old home talking with his father. All the if’s and the could-have-been’s chase each other in circles in his mind. Time was uncertain and he knew that, fucking knew that the time he had at home was uncertain and the military was unapologetic, taking no requests.

All train of thought was lost, facial expression was droopy and vacant. Eventually finding his way back to his apartment which was a few blocks over, not even remembering how he had gotten himself home, not able to feel himself shift his weight going up the stairs and moving his hands to unlock his door. Making his way toward his small spring mattress which killed his back, letting himself fall onto it and just staring at the ceiling blankly. Eventually he came to his senses, thinking clearly about what he had to do with the time he had left.

So for now, he had gotten himself ready for the evening, lounging around his home in his briefs. Making himself a cup of coffee because for whatever reason it eases him into a more relaxed state before bed. Looking out his window in the kitchen at the sunset that showcased itself before his eyes. How wonderful he thought it was. Always admiring the universe's work to bless him with such beauty. The dark pinks and purples and blues soothes him, reminding him that whatever he was feeling would come to pass. The colors of twilight gives him hope for a better tomorrow.

—

Today is Saturday and there is no reason to get up so early in the morning but Harry is up by dawn, his circadian rhythm is inevitably set like this due to working on his father's farm. He hasn’t found anything to delay his awakening at such specific hours, though he might know something, or rather, someone who could keep him from rising. There’s been a woman in the building he’s had his eyes on. She just moved in about a year ago, and once he’d laid eyes on her there was no changing his mind; she was beauty and every bit of her embodied the word. No one’s caught Harry’s fancy since.

As much as he would’ve liked to see her today, there were more important matters he had to settle. Making his way to his old home was further by foot, about an hour's worth of walking, but once Harry had reached the front porch the Sun was almost at its highest point. Around lunchtime was when they’d always sit out in the grass and bask in the warmth, of course in the months when the Earth provided such heat. Always ate whatever mother made for lunch, then everybody would be so full they’d have a nap. Every Saturday afternoon, like clockwork, a time where everything was still and peaceful. Something Harry was grateful for, to have those tender moments with his parents.

Just as he was about to knock on the door he once knew to be his own, opened as if the universe was telling him he had no right asking permission to enter the place he was born. His father was standing before him, with a surprised but hopeful look washed over his features. “Hello, Father. I, uh, I wanted to apologize for the way I kept my back towards you yesterday. Please forgive me for being too coward to face you…” Harry could barely look him in the eye because he was ashamed, not much so for the events that transpired the day earlier, but for leaving his parents with nothing years ago.

“Let's sit and talk Harry, Mum’s made lunch. Help me bring everything to the lawn.” His father nods in the direction of the kitchen which is almost immediately to the left as you enter the house. He’d never thought his heart could race any faster than it is at this moment. The nerves taking over him as they did when he heard his father’s voice for the first time since he was eighteen. Walking cautiously for he didn’t want to startle his mother, but only to be met with an empty kitchen with the food still steaming on the stove.

“She’s not been partaking in tradition for quite some time, recently she’s been getting out of bed to make meals but barely eats herself.” A look of devastation looms over the man's face as he puts mashed potatoes, chicken, and carrots on both of their plates. Harry can’t bring himself to speak just yet, but he gives his father a shy look as if asking permission to grab the picnic blanket from the wardrobe in the hallway outside of the kitchen. He’s met with a nod and swiftly makes his way and once he’s closing the door he follows his father out to the front lawn under their massive pine tree.

—

Silence. Absolutely quiet while the pair ate, not even a glimpse was shared until both meals were finished. “You know, these little dates of ours were the ones I cherished the most while you were growing up.” Another pause while he looked up at the sky with bliss in his eyes and a smile grew on his face while looking at his son, but as quickly those emotions came, they went. Replaced with sorrow. “I was a prick most days, telling you what to do, how to do it, and when I expected it to be done. Stripping you away from your youth. Making you do the work of a man on a farm far bigger than the two of us could handle.”

“Dad, you couldn’t have possibly tended to all the cattle by yourself—”

“That might be so, Harry, and I knew what I was getting myself into to provide for my family. If I would’ve known that this — this war was going to happen I would’ve done anything in my power to let you be young. And now there’s a chance that your name will be drawn out of a hat that the government threw you in, it’s devastating.

To know that I spent your youth being the kind of father I was, so harsh on you, not letting myself show you all the love I could have. Sickens me.” He sniffles and a tear runs down his face, voice shaking, “All of the times I yelled at you for missing small things like not fixing the cattle’s meals right or not waking up early enough, even yelled at you for simply falling asleep in the middle of the day when most of your chores were finished…”

Surely this wasn’t the same man Harry knew before he left. As always he was lost for words, just looking at this slightly older version of his father. His own eyes watering at the words he wouldn’t have guessed would come from his mouth. There was always an unspoken bond between the two, they both were stubborn but knew there was always love. But hearing it, shit, hearing his innermost thoughts gave Harry an overwhelming feeling of warmth.

“Dad, I-I, you were exactly how you were supposed to be with me, it wasn’t pleasant all the time and I don’t think it’s like that with any family, but you raised me the best you knew how. Your roughness has taught me to be a hardworking and determined man, so don’t think for a second that how you brought me up was less than.”

“But let me tell you son, as plain as day and as plain as the nose on your face, you are the best god damned thing I could ever make and bring into this world. You are what I wish I could be and everything I never was able to become. You are a light that brightens the darkest of nights. And...” He pauses, making sure that he’s looking Harry in the eyes like his life depended on it, “and I don’t want to see the war dim that. I have no idea what’s going to happen to you out there…”

When the Sun started to make its way to the west, that’s when Harry had to cut things short with his father. He helped bring in the blankets and plates into the house. He felt obligated to wash all of the dishes and put the food away properly and didn’t let his old man touch a single thing. Disappointed though, he couldn’t see his mother, but he also doubted himself, what if she didn’t want to see him? Was that why she hadn’t come out of her room? Even though his father did tell him she kept to herself in her own little world. Did she know he was here? Or would it be too hard for her to see him and that’s why he couldn’t force himself to face her?

Harry hugged and kissed his father before he left. He told Harry that it meant more than words could describe that he came and spent time with him, and that they should make it tradition again. To keep this up as long as time permitted it. He’d love that, very much so. Yeah, that would be perfect.

They’d had a surprisingly wonderful conversation, talking in general made both of them happy but it’s difficult to tell who enjoyed it more. After the talk of what the possibility of going to war looked like, they switched the conversation to how well they were doing in life. Harry mentioned that he was working as a tailor and how he liked his apartment building but left out the fact that he was talking to a woman that lived a few doors down. While his father talked about how it’s almost been quite the same after two years. Talked about how his parents have to start preparing to save their rations since there’s such a shortage of provisions, and how they don’t make enough money to afford everything that they need, so they’ve kept, mainly his father, what they could spare to keep this Saturday tradition alive. During the week their meals have been small, mostly consisting of potatoes, soup, and homemade bread.

Harry made a mental note to help them out any way he could, he’ll go shopping soon to make sure that his parents were well cared for. Now, now that he knew that he wasn’t in hot water with at least one of them, he would make sure that he visited every week.

—

By the time Harry reached his home the Sun was just beginning to set, though it was still a bit chilly to stay outside he watched as the light slowly faded on his side of the Earth. Wishing he could be in two places at once to simultaneously watch this miraculous planet set and rise on the horizon. To see that would be gorgeous, breathtaking. And while he was basking in the fading brightness, he couldn’t help but feeling like he was being watched. He knew who it was and it was the warmth he felt from her and not the disappearing Sun that wasn’t radiating any sort of heat anymore.

There was no reason to look up at her window, he knew that he’d see her. And there was definitely no reason to knock at her door this late at night because she’s stubborn and wouldn’t answer it even if he was on his knees begging her to see him. She made him wait and it’s been that way since she moved in, though they weren’t exclusive, Harry would wait an unholy amount of time for her. No matter how long.

As he was closing his door, tired from the walk home and eyes heavy, he heard the all too familiar creek of a door from a few feet away. Suddenly he was wide awake and peering out to his left to be greeted by a smiling face peeking out from her apartment. “Styles, always taking in the glory the universe provides for us.”

Wow, she, wow. His last name on her tongue was what brought him to life. How could she be everything he ever needed even though he hasn’t felt anything like this for someone? Was he too head over heels for a woman he barely knew? Yes.

And her smile was brighter than anything he’d ever seen, not even the Sun could beat her. He didn’t even realize that he was staring longer than he should’ve, causing her to laugh, “Good to see you happier. Passed you yesterday in the stairwell and gave me no attention. You looked distant, glad to see the life in your eyes.” That was it. That was all she gave him, retreating before he could muster up anything to say.

He went to sleep with the biggest grin on his face and wished it had stayed longer.

#my originals #blufirre #blufirre original #Harry Styles #harry styles fic #harry styles writing #harry styles fanfic #ITFWL

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creativeashproductions · 7 years

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Anguish // Bucky Barnes

Summary: AU where Reader is an FBI Agent and best friends with Detective Nat Romanoff. Everything changes when Bucky and the reader meet each other. Soon Nat has to decide what’s more important…her happiness or her best friend.

Characters: agent!reader x detective!bucky, Natasha Romanoff, Sam Wilson, Steve Rogers x nurse!Sharon, Wanda x Vision, Pietro Maximoff (mentioned), Nick Fury (mentioned), and Peggy Carter (mentioned)

Words: 2692

Disclaimer: I do not own Marvel or the characters involved. This is also an AU in which the Avengers are actually detectives.

Warnings: Swearing, talk of death, injuries, infertility by car accident, PTSD (mentioned), and ANGST with just a hint of fluff.

Author: Caitsy

A/N: to hold you over till Sunday, April 23rd when I will be finished packing for home! Requests will be OPEN ON SUNDAY

Snapchat to see what’s coming next: caitsyandash

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Normally it should be one the happiest days to watch your best friend get married but for Natasha it was the exact opposite. You had been best friends since you were roommates during your police academy days having bonded as the daughters of former officers. When you went to different cities for jobs you had kept in contact and celebrated when Nat made detective and you worked your ass up into the FBI. She was so happy when you took your two weeks off following a botched operation landing you with a bullet to the shoulder.

During those two weeks you had met one of Nat’s co-workers and friend Bucky Barnes at a game night. It was held at Steve Rogers house in Brooklyn, he was a recently transferred detective from Bucky’s childhood, and Steve’s wife Sharon. Sharon was an ER nurse going back to school to become a Doctor. Nat had straight away invited you over not expecting to have you bond so well with everyone.

“I’m Y/N Y/L/N-“

“Agent Y/L/M, dumbs.” Nat laughed poking you in the side. You giggled.

“I’m an FBI agent. I’m on medical leave, got shot chasing a drug dealer.” You laughed nodding to the sling holding your left arm.

“I’m Steve Rogers. Transferred Detective, this is mine and my wife’s home. Sharon’s finishing her shift at the hospital.”

“I’m James Barnes but you can call me Bucky.” A man with brunette hair and piercing blue eyes smiled from his spot, “Steve’s partner.”

“Sam Wilson.”

“Nat’s partner right?” You questioned.  “Yeah ever since this ass dumped me for his best friend.” Sam teased pushing Steve a little. Steve chuckled shaking his head in response.”

“Wanda and Vision can’t make it. They have parent teacher interviews with their son Pietro.”

“Not to mention tomorrow is the sixth anniversary of Wanda’s brother Pietro’s death.” Sam sighed, “Damn I miss that idiot.”

Everyone was sitting around a table filled with drinks and snacks as they each decided to play a board game with set rules that were based around a drinking game. You bowed up playing due to the medication you were prescribed for the wound and you noticed that Bucky wasn’t playing either.

“You aren’t playing?” You questioned leaning back.

“No…uh…I can’t.” He said nodding to the couch, “I got back from war three years ago. Suffered from PTSD and I self mediated using alcohol. Nat finally got me to see the therapist at the police department. Bruce Banner and we worked out a plan.”

“Are you an alco-“

“No. I came close so I’ve sworn off alcohol until Dr. Banner and I feel like it’s safe.” Bucky admitted, “I don’t usually tell people this.”

“I can’t drink because of medication.” You sighed nodding to your wound.

The week after meeting everyone Bucky asked you out and you couldn’t resist him so you began to see each other. The day you were leaving to go back to work he dropped you off at the airport, Nat was working and he had the day off, and you became official. You both kept the relationship to yourselves for the first couple of months until you decided to transfer to the New York FBI office once you both found it hard to celebrate your first anniversary with work schedules.

Splitting time between Washington, DC and New York City became a hassle so when you were together for almost a year and half Bucky asked you to move in with him with a key and a ring.

“We’ve been together for over a year and we’ve been talking about our future. So will you my best friend, confidant, and love of my life marry me? Move in with me and let’s tell everyone. We can find a house to move in after the wedding and begin our life, so will you become my wife?” Bucky asked opening the ring box during the dinner in your apartment in Washington.

The proposal was simply asked because Bucky wasn’t one to get really emotional. It wasn’t his nature or personality and the amount of decorating he had done to your apartment made up for it.  “Of course!” You exclaimed hugging him tight. The ring was exactly what you had dreamed of and he knew you so well. Beside it was a key to his apartment.

A few days into moving in together you had called Nat to let her know you were in the city and she had jumped for lunch. She wanted to tell you something important too. She was excited to tell you that she was planning to ask someone out from work. She had fallen hard for his eyes and humour along with a shared interest.

“Y/N!” Nat exclaimed pulling you for a hug at the nice restaurant owned by your mutual friend Vision and his wife Wanda.

“Oh my god!” You responded hugging your best friend tight, “I think this calls for some wine.”

Nat agreed as you sat down catching up as you chose what you wanted to eat. You both knew what you wanted but it was tradition to choose a desert to share at the end and you never got the same desert.

“Thank you.” You both said handing the menus to the waiter.

“So how long are you staying?” Nat asked taking a sip of her wine.

“That’s the thing. I moved here two days ago, I’ve been settling in and I had taking a tour of the office.” You smiled as Nat’s grin grew larger and larger. She could act anyway with you and you couldn’t care which made her comfortable.

“Are you serious?! Oh my god!” Nat exclaimed as she blushed with her news.

“What about you? You sounded excited when I called.”

“I fell for someone recently and I’ve decided to ask them out.”

“Ooh! Tell me more. Who is he? Someone I know.” You teased her, “I never fought I would see the day that Natasha Romanoff would fall in love.”

“Shut up.” She giggled, “You do know him and I’m not telling until I know if he’ll go out with me!”

“You know how I mentioned I was seeing someone for the past year and I’ve kept quiet about it for personal reasons?”

“Yeah?”

“We’re engaged!”

Nat’s jaw dropped in shock as the news sunk in, she had no idea you and this guy were this serious. It didn’t stop her from squealing and pulling you into a tight hug. She gasped at the gorgeous ring settled at home on your left hand.

“Oh my god!”

“We’re having an engagement party tomorrow at Steve’s place, when I accidentally let it slip to Sharon she demanded that it happen at the Roger’s home.”

Nat was late to the party from processing a young woman she arrested on her way back to the precinct. She had been trailing the girl ever since Sam and her had figured out she was the one responsible for killing the prostitutes because her husband left her after a string of hookups. The woman snapped and killed the females she believed took her husband.

“Sorry we’re late!” Nat announced hanging her coat up in the closet like Steve had always asked her to do.

“No problem Nat.” You grinned pressing a kiss to Nat’s cheek, “Bucky and I are happy you could make it!”

Nat’s stomach dropped when Bucky’s arm came around your waist with a loving gaze resting on the side of your head. Her breathing quickened as the heartbreak began inside her and everyone was unaware of it happening. Before the tears could be seen Nat straightened her spine and placed a guarded expression on.

“Congrats!” The words were bitter on her tongue but she couldn’t help but hate you a little bit.

This was the final nail in the coffin of her believe that she didn’t deserve love or happiness. Every relationship burnt her in the end from the man that left her because the danger she faced. Her first serious boyfriend had dumped her because it wasn’t working out and her last girlfriend dumped her because she found out she was straight.

Nat had a rough life from the moment her father died in accident on duty when her mother was six months pregnant. The shooter hadn’t been found and was probably well respected for killing a successful senior detective. Nat’s mom died in childbirth from unexpected complications leaving her to be passed around family members until she was one. She was then placed in a bad orphanage that sold children to desperate parents. It wasn’t until her adopted father Nick Fury and his wife Peggy were on their honeymoon did they stumble upon the orphanage when the head of it was arrested.

They saw little two year old Nat with her fiery red hair and big innocent green eyes standing with a ratty stuffed bunny with tears rolling down her dirty face. Nick immediately knew she was the child he wanted. Peggy was unable to have biological children and she wasn’t full ready to have kids so soon. They had only gotten married for god sake.

The first decade of being adopted by the Fury-Carter couple was happy with training in different kinds of martial arts and languages. Nick was extremely caring for his little girl while Peggy was more distant. It wasn’t until Nat was thirteen did Peggy grow closer to her daughter. It came to shattering stop on Nat’s fourteenth birthday when Peggy and her were coming home from Nat’s ballet recital did their lives change forever. Nick was working when he got the call from the hospital.

He rushed to the hospital where his wife was laying waiting to be identified officially, she had died on impact. Seven hours Nick waited in the waiting room as his only child and the apple of his eye battled for her life. His little girl died on the operating table twice before she was stabilized and resting in her room.

“Mr. Fury? I’m Dr. Charles. I have some news.” The female doctor said motioning to the seat, “Your wife died on impact when the truck slammed into her side of the car. In the few seconds before the car was t-boned she shifted to take most of the force. This saved your daughter from dying, this is what we see in a lot of car accidents. The parent instinctively moves to protect their child even if they don’t think about it. It was reflex.”

“She does.” Fury breathed as he tearily focused on his wife’s smile in a memory, “How’s Nat?”

“Natasha suffered internal bleeding, a broken ankle, her spleen ruptured, multiple broken ribs, the other ribs are bruised, her right arm is shattered from her elbow and down. That’s not all.” Dr. Charles said scrolling through her tablet.

“There’s more.” Fury mumbled.

“Natasha turned to see her mother and the force caused whiplash but we lost her twice during surgery and we were unable to repair her uterus fully. The trauma had caused Natasha to become infertile.”

Nick was never the same following the day. He focused solely on work and hired nanny’s to care for his daughter. It tore Natasha up when Nick turned his back on her and she in turn focused on getting on with her life.

Natasha standing by the door of your wedding suite watched as your cousin and you mom helped you into your wedding dress. It was a gorgeous dress that fit you perfectly and quite stunningly like it had been sewn and designed specifically for you. Which was also sold cheap because your rich aunt was a close friends with a ton of high class fashion designers, closest with Vera Wang herself.

“Oh baby.” Mrs. Y/L/N cried pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“Mom!” You giggled, “I’m only getting married!”

Nat hid the bitter smile before it could appear and instead focused on tying the lace ribbon that would keep her heels on. She spent her time in the sidelines unable to fully commit to the duties of being your best friend and in the fairytale emotions you didn’t notice. Your cousin however caught on pretty quick.

“Hey Nat! One of your curls isn’t sitting right.” Mary said walking over, “I’ll let Auntie help Y/N and I quickly put that into place.”

“Thank you.”

“You won’t if you mess anything up on this day. I know your legs are begging for Bucky’s face between them but if you even think about ruining anything I will end you.”

“Threatening a police officer?” Nat glared refusing to take off her smile.

“Oh no sweetheart. You didn’t know? My Dad is pretty high up the chain in politics. One call and I can end your career and push you into the need of prostitution and even then…nobody will want anything to do with you scantily clad broke ass.” Mary hissed fixing the hair that was already perfect, “There you go! Y/N! We’re ready!”

“Oh my god.” You gasped as your Dad got up from his seat on the couch, “It’s time. I’m going to throw up.”

“Maybe your best friend and number one shipper of your relationship has some encouraging words!” Mary fakery smiled at Nat, “Right Natasha?”

“Y/N, you’ll do fine. This is the best day of your life and it’s the same for Bucky. Nothing will go wrong.” Nat said feeling the inner depression at losing even the smallest chance with Bucky.

“Ain’t you a sweetheart!” Mary giggled patting Nat’s hand, “Okay places people!”

“This day is the rest of the my life and in a year Bucky and I will be hopefully pregnant with our first-“ “Bucky wants kids?” Natasha gasped shocked.

“Yeah. We already have names picked out, he’s really excited. We bought a house in Brooklyn just a couple blocks from Steve and Sharon.”

Natasha felt even worse as the words settled uneasily inside her. When the group, before Y/N met everyone, the conversation of children came up. Bucky had told the group that he would never have kids in the world that was terrible. That sparked a fire inside Nat that would build over the years they knew each other.

The wedding was beautiful with the warm love between Bucky and Y/N Barnes lighting up the entire venue. Nat was itching to talk to Bucky, screw Y/N. The girl got everything in life without much trouble while Nat only had Bucky to lean on. Nat could settle with being the mistress if Bucky wanted, besides Y/N wouldn’t have to know.

“Don’t.” Mary said taking a sip from her flute of champagne.

“I-“

“You were. I meant what I side. Get it through your red skull you bitch. You had your chance since you met him and he probably didn’t even really talk to you. He wants children with Y/N. I think it’s time you left the party and maybe even the city. Start fresh.”

Nat watched as Bucky snuck up on you to wrap his arms tightly around you and playfully nip at your neck. Pushing past her emotions Nat saw the light blaring full blast in Bucky’s eyes and that was something she hadn’t seen since they’re first day on the job. Your smile was larger than life and she knew right there what she had to do.

“You’re right.” Nat bit her lip getting red lipstick on her front teeth, “I can’t live my life watching her be happy with him like I should have been.”

“Good answer. Your bags are packed from the cabin and waiting in a limo. Break your phone please on your way and don’t come back to the city.”

Nat flashed a smile towards the happy newlywed couple before two larger men walked in front of her. When they passed fully you and Bucky could no longer see even the glimpse of the redheaded woman in your lives. She was gone in a blink of an eye leaving only memories in her wake.

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