#weiner soldiers imagine

[smaptain-smerica]

Spare me your Time

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader Summary: After a rough start to life, Y/n accepts her dream job continuing her father's research. Someone from the past comes back into her life, and she hesitates to establish a connection. He spared her life, will she spare him some of her time in return? Word Count:9.4K Warnings: Death of father, cursing, Forceful obedience, insomnia, the reader has the serum

You usually worked late. All your required assignments were completed in record time, earning you a high standing among the other scientists and engineers. Granted, not everybody knew that you were the boss's daughter. 

The company that your father and his brother had started always remained a secret to the world, even to you in some ways. What you could gather from short dinner table conversations was that they were collecting research on how medicines affect different kinds of people and attempting to create unique medicines based on physical and mental assessments. 

Growing up around this secret medicine world inspired you to want to become a biomedical engineer just like your father. You wanted to follow in his footsteps and revolutionize medicine and technology for the better. 

They would take volunteers to do the scans curate a medicine specifically for them. It would take into consideration their mental age, physical age, and physique to determine the best equations and medicines to help them. The end goal was to be able to take a simple scan of someone's body and output a pill designed perfectly for them in minutes. The only thing they managed to successfully create was personalized allergy medicine. For over a decade of work, it seemed like a small accomplishment, but your father always said it was only the foot in the door. 

What was happening under the company's surface was shady dealings by your uncle. One day when your father was out of town on a business trip, your uncle asked if you’d like to sit in the machine for a scan. Your father never let you before so of course you said yes. Your uncle discovered the unmatched potential you carried with you within your brain and body. He kept the scans a secret from your father, even you, and he began to scheme his way toward evil. 

Your uncle had heard about the Winter Soldier and the secret HYDRA program they were creating for it. He heard tales of horror from the scientists he regularly kept in touch with. Ultimately, he decided that he could create a serum ten times better than the one HYDRA had used. His serum would eliminate the need for brainwashing and mind-controlling commands. His version of the serum would subject the recipient to obedience. How someone would control them was still in the works, but he began working secretly on the serum, testing it on various rodents until he thought it was perfect. 

It was your 15th birthday, midnight on the dot when your uncle woke you from your sleep saying he had a surprise. Hoping it was a new car, you got up to follow him. He knocked you out cold and strapped you to a chair in a lab in the basement. He had injected you with his version of the serum, fire pumping through your veins and melting you from the inside out. In a groggy state, you watched your father burst into the room, frantically trying to find you. He was furious, more furious than you had ever seen him in your life. Unfortunately, your uncle was faster, shooting him square between the eyes with a concealed weapon, as though he was waiting for this moment. 

For a few months, your uncle has put you through a series of tests. Your speed, strength, and durability had increased, but not in the way he had hoped. There was only a 75% increase in physical attributes. Instead, it was your mind that had been maximized to its full potential. Suddenly you gained a photographic memory with the ability to memorize quickly. You could see or hear instructions for something once and instantly perfect it. He sat you in the library, forcing you to watch countless videos and read countless books. You had become fluent in 15 different languages in only 6 months and knew every Jiu-Jitsu move there was and more. Though you might not have been as strong as the Super Soldiers, your uncle had hopes you could outsmart them.

So, from 16 and on you earned the highest education possible. Graduating high school at 17, college at 20, and finally, a master's degree in biomedical engineering at 23. You were halfway through earning your Ph.D. when someone walked into your life that changed it forever. 

The serums effects weren’t 100%, but you were only the first test subject. There was some free will in the sense that you could go and do whatever you want, but unless someone told you otherwise, it was in your nature to listen. Stay here, never leave, work on this project, go get me this, when you were younger you didn’t even realize this was happening. People just told you that you were helpful and kind-hearted. Your uncle knew though, and used it to his advantage. 

One of your favorite songs played ever so softly next to you from a small speaker while you worked in the lab. The only light was a desk lamp over your workstation. It was in the early hours of the morning, so you had to be quiet to not bring suspicions to your project. You sang gently to yourself as you squeezed a drop of blood onto a microscope sheet and then put your work-in-progress anti-serum serum over the top of it. You brought your eyes to the scope, examining what was happening within the red and white blood cells. 

The sound was hardly noticeable but still caused you to freeze up. Slowly, you straighten your posture and turn around. Your hand shut off the music as you listened intensely, but only the sound of your heartbeat was in your ears. 

Finally, a dark figure appeared in the small ring of light around you. Your eyes widened and you took a step backward in fear, knocking over the stool in the process. In front of you stood a tall man with dark, long hair and a face covered by a mask. You wouldn’t have recognized him if it weren’t for the silver, metal arm that hung from his shoulder. 

Your uncle told you stories of him, you’ve read about him and yet, still didn’t think he was real. 

The winter soldier. 

“I know who you are.” You choked out, embarrassed by how small your voice sounded. He didn’t move, didn’t blink, you could have sworn you saw his head tilt ever so slightly. 

“Did you come here to kill my uncle?” Your voice hardly came out as a whisper. As terrified as you were for your own life then, you hoped he would say yes. 

The winter soldier nodded.

“Did you do it?” You asked. 

He nodded again. 

You felt relief flood over you. You were free. Your body let go of a weight that you didn’t know was attached to you as the confirmation settled in your mind. 

“Thank you.” You whispered, half to the mysterious assassin before you, and half to the universe. 

He raised a pointer finger and seemed to aim it directly behind you. You glanced back at your work and then back at him. 

“What am I doing?” You asked. 

He only responded with a nod. A man of few words, you thought. 

You sighed. Oddly enough, he was the inspiration behind it. He, you, and all the other people your careless uncle killed trying to create the “perfect” soldier.

“I’m trying to fix it. Fix us.” You responded grimly. 

Your attention is fixed now on his eyes. His blue and enticing eyes seemed to sparkle with some emotion that was hard to place as he looked at the table and then back at you. The winter soldier hesitated it seemed. Looking at your work, then you, down at his hand, then back up again. You were scared he was going to kill you for even being a witness. But he didn’t. He took a few steps backward, disappearing out of the light and into the dark before he swiftly left the lab. 

You let out a breath that you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. The fear of coming close to death exited your body like an exorcism. Your legs wobbled as you caught yourself on the workbench. What were you going to do now? You were free. Free from your uncle's grasp, and the experiments, you could leave the house. Hell, you could move states. You turned around and looked at your work. Seeing that your current antidote failed, you sighed in defeat and gathered up your notebook. You would- no, needed- to finish this. But it could wait. Now, you were going to take everything you had and discover a new life for yourself. 

If one thing hadn’t changed, it was that you still worked late into the night. By textbook definition, you were a night owl. It was hard to get to sleep and stay asleep with your mind constantly reeling with thoughts. You were just coming back from a run around the compound at 1:30 am. The Avengers compound was so peaceful at night. The gentle sounds of the water and the humming of crickets were your favorite. 

Water from the kitchen was the first place you wanted to go. When you opened the fridge you spotted a few Gatorades. You knew they were Clint’s, he had explicitly told you not to touch them. However, Clint was gone for the week, visiting his family. That was plenty of time to cover up your crimes.

You headed back to the lab, having thought of another formula to scribble down while on your run. To your surprise, the light to your lab was on. None other than your boss, Tony Stark, was flipping through one of your sketchbooks. It wasn’t a surprise to find him snooping through your drawings. You and he were collaborating on a prosthetic contraption for his friend Rhodes. It was odd to see him here this late, however. 

“Burning the midnight oil, Mr.Stark? Now you’re taking after me.” You teased while leaning in the doorway. 

Tony looked up at you and gave you a crooked grin. 

“No shit, Sherlock.” 

To you, it wasn’t just an expression. Your photographic memory stood out to Tony the first day you met. He called you Sherlock Holmes because of your ability to memorize and analyze every single detail of a picture while only seeing it for one second. The real reason Tony had hired you was because he was fascinated with you and your fathers' research. He agreed to fund your research in its entirety as long as he got to slap a stark label on it when it was finished. 

“I’m liking these designs, kid.” He pointed to the paper at one drawing in particular. 

“How quickly do you think you could whip up a prototype for this one?” 

You walked over to him and peered over his shoulder. You hummed in thought. 

“A carbon fiber prototype, a couple of days. But a functioning one I would need about 3 weeks if I halted my other projects.” 

Tony tapped his fingers against his chin and nodded. He hadn’t taken his eyes off your designs for the entirety of the conversation. 

“That’s great. Yeah, that’s perfect. Get a prototype of these put together for me would ya?” 

You brought your fingers to your forehead and saluted him. 

“You’re the boss.” 

Tony smiled at you, placing a hand on your shoulder before heading for the door. 

“Tony!” You called after him which caused him to halt and face you. 

“Why did you actually come down here?” You asked. You could sense it, there was something that he wanted to say but either changed his mind or couldn’t gather the courage. 

“Your uncle worked with super soldiers, right?” He asked. You were shocked by the unexpected question and suddenly nervous. Nobody on the team knew you had some variant of the serum coursing through you. It was part of the reason you worked out at night when everyone was asleep. So nobody could see the obvious above-average strength that you carried 

“He was fascinated by them, yes.” You finally replied. “He tried many times to recreate the serum but failed.” 

“Are you trying to recreate it?” 

Your heart nearly stopped beating and your face went ghostly white at the question. Tony pulled out one of your older notebooks from behind his back. It was the one you used for antidote equations. 

“Please give that back.” You asked quietly. 

“I was looking for your research on the medicines, because I’m allowed to do that since I fund your whole project, and I came across that. I didn’t mean to, but now that I have I’m concerned.” 

“No, it’s not like that. I was…” you were scared to admit it. You were scared that the truth might slip up and come out. You weren’t ready for that to happen just yet. 

“I was trying to figure out how to reverse it.” You finally admitted, avoiding eye contact with Tony. 

Tony looked deep in thought at the book for a moment before tossing it back in your direction. You caught it with ease by the spine.

“You are one of the smartest people I’ve ever met.” 

That was his way of leaving the conversation. Your heart swelled with pride at the compliment as you looked at the book. Maybe it was time to start looking into this once again. 

The next morning the compound was alive and buzzing with commotion. Unfortunately, because you were often late going to bed you were also late to rise. It was unusual for you to get out of bed before 10:00 am. It was a good thing your boss was generous.

You often worked with the Avengers in your lab. Over the short few years there developing your father's research you accidentally created an ointment that could heal any external superficial wounds. Punctures, scrapes, and lacerations, all of which happen to be occupational hazards for the enhanced superhumans. They were fully stocked with the ointment in the med bay but, for some reason, they liked to bother you more.

Natasha was drinking a coffee and reading a book at the island in the kitchen when you strolled in still in your pajamas, looking for what scraps were left of breakfast. 

“Good morning, y/n.” She spoke smoothly. 

“Morning.” You yawned, picking up a cold piece of bacon off the plate and began munching. 

“What’s with all the commotion?” 

Natasha set down her book and turned her attention fully towards you. 

“New recruit. A friend from Steve’s childhood.” 

“Steve’s childhood?” You asked, astonished. “Isn’t he, like, 100 years old?” 

Natasha hummed a chuckle. “Yes, he is. We’re having a meeting to discuss it, I’m sure Tony wouldn’t mind if you sat in.” 

“Oh, no,” you responded quickly to the offer. “I gotta get to work. I’m sure I’ll run into him at some point.” 

Natasha smiled and stood up as a way of saying goodbye. You smiled at her as well before taking your breakfast to go towards your lab. 

You rounded the corner and stopped in the doorway, noticing a young teenager standing in the lab. He must have heard you because he whipped around and looked at you wide-eyed and surprised. 

“Hi, um, I’m Peter. Mr. Stark told me to wait here for you.” 

You chuckled at the awkwardness of his stance and speech as you walked into the room. 

“Hi Peter, I’m y/n. I’ve heard about you, you’re the spider kid, right?” You asked, noticing that he had been flipping through the notebooks you left open on the table. 

“Yeah, um, spiderman, actually.” 

You smiled at him. Tony told you about a genius superhero kid he wanted to recruit. Tony called you kid, and being 26 you definitely weren’t. You just didn’t expect this recruit to actually be a kid. You did some research into him. Even gained access to his school transcripts. He was a wickedly smart kid, particularly in science. You were looking forward to meeting him. 

“When Tony discovered you, he asked me to look into how you get around. Your webs.” You remarked. 

Peter looked down at his wrists briefly before returning his gaze to you. 

“What about them?” 

You smirked a little. 

“Do you think we could play around with them?” 

About an hour and a half later you and Peter had created a mess of your lab. Webbing was hung in every corner. Different colored webbing strands caused your lab to look like an entire case of silly string had exploded. 

When Tony walked into the lab, you and Peter were hanging in bunk bed-styled web hammocks, Peter asking you questions about his chemistry homework while you scribbled down some notes on one of the high-tech tablets. 

Both your attention turned to your boss and then you looked at each other. Tony sighed, bringing his hand to the bridge of his nose and pinching it out of frustration. 

“I should have known. Alright, y/n get back to work. Peter, you’re with me.” 

Peter's face was bright red after being scolded by Tony. You were used to it. He never punished you really, he knew you’d get your work done. Once Peter had left, you looked around the room at all the webbing strung everywhere. Peter said it would dissolve over time, but how long would that be? 

When you got to work on the prototype, time flew by. Your lab door remained closed while blasting all your favorite music. Tony had stopped by around dinner to bring you a plate and let you say goodbye to Peter before you continued in your work trance. The next time you checked to see what time it was, it was just after midnight. 

You took a moment to admire your work. Surprisingly, you’d gotten most of it done in record time. You decided you would take a break to go for a run and then stay up the rest of the night to finish it. You would sleep when it was completed. 

You had taken the long route on your run after deciding you would stay up to finish the project. You picked a trail through the trees, enjoying all the crisp earthy smells that entered your lungs. The moon was bright enough outside that you didn’t need a flashlight. You took the time to have FRIDAY read you the information available to you about the new recruit. You discovered there were a lot of information files that you didn’t have access to. You didn’t have a high clearance since you weren’t a world-saving Avenger, but it still piqued your interest. 

Once you returned from your run, you decided the best way to wake yourself up was a cold shower and a shot of espresso. You’d need the small extra boost of energy to power through. While you waited for the coffee to brew, a noise drew your attention. 

Your brain never allows you to forget a face. The photographic memory always brings a picture to the front of your mind. This picture brought back a feeling of fear and dread. Those eyes, those captivating blue eyes, and the long, dark hair. It was him. The man that terrified you, but spared your life. 

“Um,” he spoke, drawing your attention from the depths of your mind back to the dark kitchen. 

“Your coffee?” 

You looked back to the espresso machine that was spilling out onto the drip tray below. You cursed to yourself as you quickly put a cup underneath the spouts. 

“Sorry, you just… startled me.” 

You hesitated on how to continue the sentence. Surely he remembered you, right? Probably not. The winter soldier had been around for decades. 

It now made sense how he could be Steve’s childhood friend. 

He threw a half-hearted smile your way while sitting down at one of the bar stools. 

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting anybody to be up this late.” He spoke quietly. You examined him for a moment. Broad shoulders and a long-sleeve shirt with a pair of gloves hid his arms, the real tell sign he was the winter soldier. Maybe you were wrong, maybe he was just a normal guy who got cold. Or maybe he had eczema. But those eyes, you could never forget those eyes. 

“Nobody usually is. I can just never get my mind to shut off long enough to sleep.” You admitted, throwing back the shot of espresso. Your face twisted up at the extreme bitterness as you turned around to rinse out the glass. 

You heard him chuckle a little. 

“I understand more than you think. But it doesn’t look like you’re trying to sleep, either.” 

It was your turn to hum a small, amused chuckle in response. 

“No, Stark’s got me on a project and I’m almost finished. I’m just going to pull an all-nighter.” 

While you were watching him, the way he moved and talked, he seemed gentle. He was trying his best to make himself seem smaller than he actually was. It was odd, this was the same man that was in front of you that day but with an entirely different demeanor. What was once rigid and intimidating was now gentle and enticing. You still couldn't get past the whole murderous assassin thing, if it weren't for that you would be enjoying the company of an attractive man. 

“Really? What do you do?” He asked. 

Your work was your passion. It’s all you wanted to do. Create medicines and machines to help people. Naturally, your face lit up as you spoke. 

“I’m a biomedical engineer. Tony is funding my fathers' research on personalized medicines. What I do is I take a scan of your brain and body, then it gives me a series of equations to create the perfectly chemically balanced medicine for you. They were only successful once with a volunteer's allergies, but I’m hopeful it will expand.” 

His face lit up slightly while watching you go on a tangent. His gaze softened and a smile crept up to his lips. 

“You look awfully young to be this far in your career.” He commented. 

“And you look awfully young to be 100.” You snapped back subconsciously. Realizing what had just come out of your unfiltered mouth, you gasped and clamped a hand over your mouth. 

“I am so sorry.” 

He chuckled from where he was in his seat and shook his head back and forth. 

“No, don’t apologize. That was good.” 

“I have a photographic memory.” You blurted out before you could embarrass yourself further. 

“I’m somewhat of a genius, by technical standards I suppose.”

“That’s very lucky. Your father must be proud.” He hummed. 

“He would be.” 

Your heart sank a little. You knew your father would have been proud of you. Especially with everything you’ve been through. Truthfully, you didn’t feel your gift was luck. It was forced upon you. Not that you weren’t grateful to be smart, it just wasn’t something you would have chosen willingly. A gift laced with guilt and shame. It was part of the reason you wanted to create an antidote. Just in case there was part of you that wanted to go back to simpler things, and maybe that would be available to him one day as well. 

The man seemed to notice the past tense of the phrase you used and frowned a little. It was obvious he tried to switch topics very quickly. 

“So, what are you working on with Tony?” 

You were grateful to be off that topic, happily jumping to the next one. 

“We’re working on some prosthetics for Rhodes. I’m going to use the brain scanning technology to try and create an external neurotransmitter system that will allow him to have full function of his limbs as if they were never injured. All, with a sleek design that would be practically undetectable when worn underneath clothing.”

He stared at you for a moment, his eyes wide and bright as a smile formed on his lips. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever met a woman as extraordinary as you.” 

You felt a heat rise to your face that you quickly dismissed with a wave of the hand. On one side of the coin, that compliment nearly made your heart jump from your chest. On the other, he was still the world's most notorious super soldier assassin. And he was acting like he didn’t know you. Or perhaps, didn’t remember? 

“There’s this great running trail through the trees. If you go down to the training center and out the east door it’ll lead you right to it. It’s usually what I do when I can’t sleep.” You offered, deciding it was best that you got back to your work as quickly as possible. 

The man’s face lit up once again as he looked out the windows and then back in your direction. 

“That sounds great, actually. I’ll do that. Thank you, um…” he paused, looking to you for confirmation of your name. 

“Y/n.” You realized you had gone through that entire conversation not introducing yourselves. You had remembered his name from the file and just assumed he knew you. You aren’t an Avenger so it was a silly thing to assume.  

“And it’s James, right?” 

“Yeah, James. But you can call me Bucky.” Bucky replied, standing up from his chair. 

“Bucky it is then. It was nice to meet you.” You introduced yourself. 

“I’ll see you around, Y/n.” 

Your feelings were conflicted the entire time you continued to work on the project. You enjoyed the conversation and enjoyed his company. Truthfully if you didn’t need to get back to work you could have talked to him all night. If it weren’t for the damn fact that you could remember his face. The Winter Soldier. Of course, you would find yourself attracted to him. 

“Fuck me.” You grumbled. 

After what felt like hours of working, you took a step back to look at the wire-covered model on the mannequin in front of you. You smiled gently. It was exactly how you had drawn it. And, to make it easier on yourself, you had created it in a way that if Tony liked it you could start right away on the actual model. You looked down at your watch to check the time. 

8:27 am. 

Well, it’s not the longest you’ve stayed up, but it certainly is the longest in months. You exited your lab and made your way down the maze of hallways. The unfamiliar sound of chatter made itself present as you approached the kitchen for a snack before heading to bed. 

You rounded the corner, the sunlight from the floor-to-ceiling windows blinding you. The white noise of conversation stopped and by the time your eyes adjusted to the light, you discovered everyone was staring at you. 

“What?” You asked, picking up an apple off the counter. 

“It’s 8:30 am,” Steve commented from his place at the stove, flipping pancakes. 

“Thanks, captain obvious.” You grumbled before taking a bite of the apple. 

Snickers broke out in the group before Natasha spoke up next. 

“You’re never up this early.” 

“That’s because I haven’t gone to bed yet.” You smiled as the group broke off into another fit of laughter. You noticed Bucky sitting off to the side, somewhat isolated but still close enough to engage in conversation. He smiled at you gently, which you returned. 

“If anyone sees Tony tell him my prototype is complete. But from me, good morning, good afternoon, and goodnight.” 

A symphony of different farewells followed you from the group as you made your way to your room. You didn’t bother to change, falling asleep as soon as your head hit your pillow. 

Bucky hadn’t stopped thinking about you from the moment he met you. From the moment he saw you, there was a pull. He felt it in his heart like a magnet. 

While he and Steve were throwing around the shield on the front lawn, he asked questions about you. What did you do during the day, where was your lab, and what were you like to be around? Steve answered all the questions with a mischievous smile. 

“Leave it to you to get the hots for a girl on your first day.” Steve teased. 

Bucky laid in bed thinking about it. He thought about your face, how familiar you looked. He wasn’t stupid, he knew the face you made whenever you first laid eyes on him in the kitchen. The face of someone who had met the winter soldier. For the life of him, he just couldn’t remember where. 

There was no way he was sleeping. Not for a while at least, if at all. He got up and got dressed in some workout clothes. He figured he would take this opportunity to ask you to go on a run, and maybe get to know you better. 

He knew he was screwed when he started to wonder what you would think of his outfit. He changed his shirt twice before grumpily giving up. Using the instructions Steve had given him on how to get to your lab, he was off on his quest. A pep in his step and a nervous flutter in his stomach. 

Your lab was at the end of a hallway, the wall lined with glass windows and a glass door so he could see what you were doing. He watched you sway to the music while you tinkered with some wires on the table. He looked at the prototype on the mannequin's legs and smiled. You really did work fast. 

As he approached the closed door he could hear the music playing. It sounded familiar to him, but he wasn’t sure why. He slowly opened the glass door but it was obvious you didn’t hear him because you didn’t look up. You kept singing along to the song playing. 

I finished my mission. Eliminate Harold L/n and leave no witnesses. It was quite easy, an unmarried man in an estate too large for his own good. Nobody would miss him. 

As I was heading back to the exit, I heard a soft voice talking. No, not talking, singing. I growled in annoyance. Of course, someone was here at this ungodly hour of the night, why wouldn’t they be? It was just my luck. 

I followed the gentle sounds of the song down a flight of stairs to what looked like an unused basement. To my right, I saw a faint yellow light coming from the window in one of the doors. I slowly approached, opened the door, and slipped inside. 

As I approached, I noticed it was a woman. She had heard me because the music shut off and she looked around frantically. She hadn’t seen me yet, but she already looked terrified of getting caught. 

I stepped into the light and made eye contact with her. Big, round, beautiful e/c eyes staring back at me. The fear turned into recognition. What she said to me took me by surprise. 

“I know who you are.” 

She knows me? How could a scientist have known who I was? It was more likely she was in on the serum recreation. She probably had to learn about me and study me. 

“Did you come here to kill my uncle?” 

Her uncle, great. Family member as a witness. Let’s hope his brother isn’t around anymore. 

I nodded in response to her question. 

“Did you do it?” She asked again, her voice coming out with a twinge of desperation. Confused by her question, I simply nodded again. 

Then, she did something unexpected. Her whole body relaxed like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders, and she thanked me. She thanked me. It nearly made me tear up hearing those words. It has been a very very long time since anybody has shown me gratitude. Especially for killing their relatives. I was even more confused now about how she knew who I was. Was she forced to research the serum? Was that what she was doing now? Surely not, not this late anyway. 

I pointed to the work behind her and she accepted my action as the question I was trying to ask. 

“I’m trying to fix it. Fix us.” 

I was left with more questions than answers. There were probably a million different things that she could be talking about. My mind held out hope that one was true; the serum. And us, made me think she had it too. 

I looked down at my gun, then back at the woman. If HYDRA found out I had left a witness, there’s no telling what would become of me. Although, something deep inside of me pulled for her to survive, to spare her. In the small chance, it was the serum she was trying to reverse, I needed to let her live. So despite direct orders, I left. 

“Earth to Bucky!” 

Y/n’s voice brought Bucky back to reality. The memory had hit him like a truck. The song you were listening to triggered the memory back into his brain. He was right, you had known him. Why didn’t you say anything?

“Huh, what?” Bucky responded to your attempt at grabbing his attention. 

“I said are you okay, do you need something? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” 

You were sitting in your rolling chair, arms across your chest as you watched him, your head tilted. 

“No, I’m good. I forgot why I came here actually. Goodnight.” Bucky said to you as he tried to leave the room as quickly as possible. He had hardly let you get out the words good night before shutting the door and disappearing into the compound. 

For the last half hour, you had been thinking about how odd Bucky had acted. He came to your lab, opened the door, then changed his mind and left. In truth, it disrupted your thoughts so much that you had to stop and take a break from work. 

You made your way down to the training center, preparing your headphones for your run through the trees. Had to take advantage of the moon being at its peak. 

Once you entered the training room you noticed a familiar figure at the punching bags. There was one already broken and seeping sand on the floor. You swallowed as you approached, hoping to catch his attention before you got there. 

“Bucky?” You asked, but he kept going. 

You walked around to his left side, standing to the side. Now there was no way he could use the excuse of not hearing you. 

“Bucky.” You said but got ignored again. 

Now frustrated, you shifted your positioning so you were now looking him in the eyes while he wailed into the punching bag. Frustration boiled inside of you. So much, so that while he was in the drawback of one of his punches, you stuck your hand out and caught him before it hit the bag. 

Your hand stung as it collided with the hard surface underneath his boxing wrap. Instinctively you brought your hand to your stomach and held onto it. 

“Holy shit that hurt.” You hissed as you doubled over and favored your hand. 

You looked up at Bucky and saw the shocked expression on his face as he stared at you. 

“You couldn’t have worn a short sleeve shirt or something? Shit.” You flicked your hand to try and shake the pain away. 

“How did you do that?” He asked. You looked at him, making strong eye contact as your heart began to beat out of your chest. 

“I used to do jujitsu.” You attempted to explain. 

“That wasn’t jujitsu, you stopped my metal arm mid-swing. How did you do that?” Bucky started to get more demanding. You hadn’t told anyone you had the serum, you wouldn't let anybody here figure that out. So to avoid that conversation, you turned to walk away. 

“That’s not important. I was going to invite you on a run but you can forget about that now.” You said sassily. 

“I’m sorry I was just-“ Bucky started, watching you walk away from him. “Wait, please.” 

The command triggered the obedience in your mind, causing you to become frustrated. Although, you were good at working around it. He said to wait, he didn’t say for how long. So you only stopped for a second before you kept walking. 

“Stop walking away and talk to me, y/n,” Bucky called after you again. 

Your feet stopped moving before your brain could even register the sentence. This time you couldn’t work your way around it. The command was direct and specific. No trying to cheat the system now. You turned around sassily, standing with your weight on your dominant foot. 

“What?” You responded dryly. 

“How did you do that?” He asked, a slightly demanding tone to his voice. 

“It’s not your business.” You responded quickly. 

“Be honest with me please y/n.” 

You fought with the internal motive within your body. You struggled not to outright admit to it. Usually, you could control your own verbal choices with a little mental override effort. 

“You once told me that you were trying to fix us. Do you have the serum?” 

Your heart nearly dropped out of your chest. 

“You remember.” You marveled. 

“I didn’t until earlier. Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“I’m sorry, I assumed you remembered.” 

It wasn’t until Bucky brought his hands up to his hair that you noticed the blood-stained boxing wraps around his knuckles. 

“You’re bleeding.” You commented, taking a step towards him. 

“And you’re a super soldier!” He spat out the words like they were poison. 

You stormed up to him, inches from his face with fire coming out of your ears. You brought up an accusing finger in warning. 

“Shut up. You don’t speak another word of this. Nobody else knows. I wanted to keep it that way.” 

You didn’t consider yourself a threatening person, but Bucky’s eyes widened as he nodded with understanding. The little bit of power you felt in that moment was an ego boost. You reached down and grabbed him by the wrist to guide him back to your lab. 

Once you were there, you shut and locked the door behind you. 

“Sit.” You commanded him. He obeyed, taking a seat in the rolling stool as he watched you walk around your lab to gather an ointment and a wet towel. 

You sat down in front of him and unwrapped his knuckles. It was clear that he started without his fists wrapped and then decided to halfway through. 

“Yes. My uncle used me as a test subject for his version of the serum.” You explained while cleaning the area of the wound for him. 

I opened the ointment jar and pulled out a generous amount. 

“This shouldn’t hurt, but it might tingle slightly.” You warned. 

“What is it?” Bucky asked. 

You began applying a thin layer to his cracked knuckles as you explained. 

“An ointment I accidentally created. It heals pretty much all superficial wounds within minutes.” 

Bucky was silent as he watched you work. Once you were done, he watched his knuckles carefully. It began to generate a dull tingle on the edges of the cracks. He watched as the small cracks in his skin began to mend and heal before his eyes. 

His eyes returned to yours with a look of amazement. 

“That’s incredible.”

“Thank you.” You responded while trying to clean up after yourself. 

“Your uncle… What was he trying to change with the serum?” Bucky asked. 

It was difficult for you to decide whether or not to tell him. You hardly knew him, but something inside of you wanted someone to confide in. If anyone was going to understand it was going to be him. You thought about opening up to Steve, but he was always so busy. This was a huge secret that you didn’t want to get out. 

“It was a long time ago.” 

“You might be the only person that understands me.” Bucky said quietly, Causing you to turn around and look at him. His face was lost, almost puppy dog-like. You could almost see the desperation in his blue eyes. He held out his hand for you to take. You hesitated, wanting to reach out but that part of you so long ago kept your hand restrained. 

“I’m sorry, for everything,” Bucky whispered, the look on his face sincere. 

“I promise I won’t hurt you. That’s not me anymore. If you could spare me a bit of your time, I’ll prove it to you.” 

You couldn’t help but feel your heart ache for the man in front of you. It was clear to you that maybe he needed someone to confide in as much as you did. You reached your hand out and took his. 

Bucky looked relieved, his head dropping to look at his lap as he squeezed your hand. 

“Thank you.” 

You pulled up a stool to sit in front of him, preparing to lay out your biggest secret to him. 

“My uncle wanted to create a serum that would allow him to control armies of soldiers without having to use brainwashing. His serum would make them obedient to a fault so that they wouldn’t know what they were doing was wrong in the first place.” 

You could see the fear in his eyes when he asked; 

“Did it work?” 

“Well, I only got about 75% of the strength, but for some reason, the serum made me extremely smart. It’s what gave me a photographic memory.” You explained. 

“What about the obedience?” He seemed to be the most concerned about that bit. From what you could guess, he was worried that it would have been successful. 

“It didn’t work entirely.” You were hesitant to explain out of fear it could be used against you. “I can control it most of the time. Find ways around it but, a direct command is a direct command. And my body won’t let me ignore it.” 

Bucky’s face dropped into devastation. Truthfully, you had never seen anybody look more distraught. 

“In the training center when I told you to stop,” 

“No,” you jumped at the chance to interrupt him before he could continue. 

“Don’t-“ 

“I am so sorry.” He looked genuinely upset. 

“Don’t apologize to me Bucky, you had no idea.” 

“No, y/n, you have no idea how much this means to me.” 

He met your eyes, an intense seriousness to them. You remembered at that moment that the winter soldier was controllable by whoever said the code. Why had you thought he would use it against you? If anything, he was the only one who understood what you were going through. 

Bucky stood up and began to pace the room. You could almost see the thoughts gathering together in his mind. 

“I promise you, that will never happen again. I’m going to make sure that never happens to you again.” 

“Nobody else knows about this. Not even Tony, please don’t tell anybody.” You begged. 

“Nobody is going to know.” He snapped in such a serious tone that it surprised you. 

The room filled with a silence that was neither comforting nor awkward. You looked down at your hands while Bucky was standing off somewhere in the room. You were going to have to get over this irrational fear of being around him. You from years ago would need to let go of everything because you now needed a friend, and The Winter Soldier might just be your unlikely friend. 

After gathering some courage, you stood up from your chair, catching Bucky’s attention. He turned to face you and looked at you expectantly. You slowly walked towards him until you were only a few feet apart. You held your breath as you pulled him towards you and entrapped him in a hug. He hesitated for a moment before wrapping his arms around you and gave you a gentle squeeze. 

It was comforting to feel his heart racing just as badly as yours was. You finally let go of a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. 

“Thank you for listening.” You whispered. 

A hum vibrated around inside Bucky’s rib cage before he replied; 

“Thank you for trusting me.” 

It had been a little over three weeks since you started the Rhodes project and you were between a rock and a hard place. Each day was another attempt and each day a new failure. You had stopped sleeping, and even skipped meals to ensure you had extra time to work on the project. Due to the heightened abilities of your mind, the lack of sleep affected you differently.  Was it healthy, probably not. Could you still function? Yes. 

Bucky often came to sit with you and visit you. He would try his best to understand what you were trying to do, even trying to help where he could. But most of the time, he would bring you meals, and the two of you would just sit and enjoy conversations. 

Other times, he knew that he could get some alone time away from the other Avengers if he needed it. It didn’t happen often, but when it did he just sat in the corner and read books trying to catch up on the last few decades. 

Unfortunately, the last couple of days most of the Avengers were out on a mission so you hadn’t had a lot of company. You worked endlessly trying to figure out where you were going wrong. The last few days blended and you couldn’t recall the last time you had slept. 

While making yourself a cup of coffee in the kitchen, Tony strolled in for the morning. He stopped in his tracks when he laid eyes on you. 

“You look like shit, Sherlock.” He remarked. 

You rolled your eyes a little, being sleep deprived made you a little irritable. 

“Thank you, that’s great to hear.” 

“When’s the last time you slept?” Tony asked. 

You stayed silent, looking down at your coffee as you aimlessly stirred it around. 

“Y/n-“ 

“I’m really close, I can feel it!” You protested. 

“Go to sleep, right now. Go to your room and sleep.” Tony instructed. 

You felt your heart tighten in disappointment slightly. You knew that Tony wasn’t upset, he cared about you just like the rest of his staff. No matter how badly you wanted to stay up and finish your project, you had to listen. 

With your head hung low, you left the kitchen and walked towards the hallway where the bedrooms were. You had only made it about halfway down the hallway before a hand caught your arm. 

You looked up to meet the eyes of Bucky who was looking down at you with a sad expression. 

“Do you want to?” 

“What?” You questioned, your body subconsciously trying to slowly pry itself away from his grasp to go to your room. 

“Do you want to go to sleep?” He said again more gently this time. 

You sighed. 

“I need to, but no. I am frustrated that I can’t figure this out.” 

Bucky bit his bottom lip like he was deep in thought. 

“I have an idea that might be able to help you. But after that, you really should get some sleep. You look tired, doll.” 

You smiled at him and nodded, excited for what his idea might be. 

“Do you want to go back to your lab?” He asked. 

“Yes, I do.” You responded. 

Bucky had kept his promise to help you have control of your actions. You had noticed he changed his wording around you. He carefully chose his words so that he was never directly instructing you. Whatever he did, he always left you a choice. You also decided that if you were ever doing something you didn’t want to do, he had to ask permission first to redirect your mind. It was a sweet gesture. You never had to implement it until now. 

“Then get back to your lab.” He said with a cheeky smile. 

The two of you walked back to your lab, careful as to not be seen by Tony as you ran for the elevator. Once you were in your lab, you locked the door and asked Friday to dim the windows so nobody could see inside. 

“Alright,” you turned eagerly towards him. “What is this thing to help me?”

Bucky gave me a weak smile as he began to take off his jacket, revealing a short sleeve shirt underneath. For as long as you had known him, he always wore a long sleeve shirt or a jacket. He never let his metal arm show out of fear of making others uncomfortable. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about asking him to look at it for your project, but that thought only crossed your mind once. 

“I thought that maybe you could look at my arm and it might push you in the direction you need to go.” 

A wide and bright smile covered your face at his gesture. The vulnerability he was showing you right now caused a new light to shine down on him. He trusted you, and you weren't going to break that now. 

“Let's try it! Sit down on the chair, please.” You instructed. 

Bucky nodded, walking over to one of the rolling chairs and taking a seat. You approached him and took his metal hand in yours. You ran your fingers up the cold, smooth material until you hit the sleeve of his shirt. You looked at the cotton fabric and then sideways at Bucky who met your gaze. You were embarrassed to ask, but you needed to see the full piece. You avoided his eye contact and felt a heat rise to your face as you asked. 

“Could you take this off for me?”

Bucky smirked a little as he grabbed at his shirt and easily slid it off his torso. “I usually wait until someone’s bought me dinner first.”

A burning heat rose to your face at the comment and you grumbled a curse word at him playfully. It was hard to ignore that he was a lot more muscular than you first thought. As awful as it sounds, you forced yourself not to stare. 

Your hand slid up the smooth metal of his arm and felt all the moving pieces and joints. Considering how long ago this was created, the technology was seriously impressive. 

“I’m going to put my hand on your shoulder, is that okay?”

 You asked and he nodded in response. 

You gently placed the palm of your left hand on the scarred area where metal met flesh. You felt your heartstrings tug slightly in sadness for what he went through. You pushed away that feeling and kept working. You held his arm in different positions and instructed him to stretch his fingers and then make a fist. Your right hand slid down the metal arm and you took his hand in yours while keeping your left hand on his shoulder. “Squeeze my hand please.” You instructed. Bucky gave your hand a gentle squeeze. When you were satisfied, you moved the placement of your left hand and asked him to squeeze again. He followed your instructions. 

You pulled your hands back and looked at him. He had an unfamiliar look on his face. A combination of a soft smile and wondrous eyes. 

“What?” You asked, suddenly feeling bashful underneath his blue gaze. 

“I just love watching you work.” Bucky shrugged. 

A head radiated on your face that you had to shove aside to move on to the next step in the process. 

“Would you mind going into the scanner? It'll only take 5 minutes.”

He looked back at the machine and then back at me with a hesitant look.

“I’ll be there the whole time.” You reassured him. 

Bucky looked up at you with a soft smile and a nod. You opened the glass door to the scanning machine and gestured for him to step inside. He followed instructions, standing in the center of the machine while the door slid closed. You made sure he could still see you through the glass door while you pulled up the computer and booted up the system. The machine first took his height, weight, and BMI, and logged it into his profile. While it was scanning him, you filled in the physical descriptions for the volunteer applicant notes. 

You kept an eye on the scanning program while filling out the form. As the scan developed you noticed something that forced you to flip over to his scan. Abnormalities in the prefrontal lobe and hippocampus, the two main regions of the brain that store memory. 

His scans were almost completed when you started to notice something. The machine took a scan of the internal structure of his metal arm as well as the outside. You zoomed in on the components within the mechanism. You noticed the way that the nerves of his arm connected to the wiring of the arm. It was a sloppy job, you could have done so much better. 

While staring intensely at the screen, you noticed something within the wiring and connections that gave you an idea for your project. As your brain was processing the information you were seeing, Bucky exited the scanner and walked over to you by the computer. He leaned down over your shoulder to get a closer look. 

“Woah, is that me? That’s pretty cool.” 

He noticed your intense staring at the computer with a look of shocked realization on your face. “Are you okay?” 

“That’s it.” You whispered. 

“What’s it?” Bucky asked, trying to get you to say your thoughts aloud. 

“That’s it that's exactly what I needed!” Your excitement and joy were obvious in the tone of your voice. You looked over at Bucky who met you with a smile as equally excited as yours. 

“I could kiss you! Oh my gosh, thank you!” You raved as you scrambled for a tablet to write down all the thoughts in your brain. 

Bucky chuckled and straightened his posture. 

“Don’t let me stop you.”

Instincts took over as you rolled onto your toes and pressed your lips onto Buckys. He was too shocked to react before you pulled away from him with a smirk on your face. His face was red with a growing smile creeping its way onto them. 

“Did I do that?” he asked, scared he might have made you do something you didn’t want to do. 

“No.” You responded with a sweet smile. 

“I did.” 

A smile filled with adoration appeared on his face as he looked at you. Bucky leaned down and kissed your lips again. His lips were slightly chapped and the stubble on his face tickled your chin. He tasted sweet and minty, leaving you wanting more as he pulled away.

“I’ll cover for you while you work.” Bucky offered before placing another quick kiss on your lips. He headed for the door, grabbing and putting on his shirt on before reaching the handle.

“I thought I had to go to sleep?” You questioned. 

Bucky paused halfway through the door and turned to face you. 

“We both know you’re not going to sleep until it’s done. 

Your project was complete and fully functional. It felt like you had just climbed mount everest for this accomplishment, but it was done. 

You left your lab in the late evening, sleep finally catching up to you. You entered the common room from the elevator and noticed most of the Avengers watching a movie in the living room. You made a lazy attempt at greeting your friends. 

“Y/n,” Tony called which stopped you in your tracks.  

“I told you to go to bed six hours ago.” He commented, checking his watch for the time.

“You did.” You agreed. 

“The prosthetic is done, by the way. Now I’m going to sleep.”

You dismissed yourself from the conversation, but not before making eye contact with Bucky who sat next to Steve on the couch. He smirked a little and gave you a wink. You reciprocated it before continuing to make your way toward your bedroom. Before you shut the door, you heard Tony say; 

“Did you have something to do with this, Barnes?”

Part 1/2

A/N

I would love to take inspiration from readers any put them into stories and shorts! Please don’t hesitate to message me directly or use my ask inbox! 💜💜

[wiener-soldiers]

atypical family dinners - peter parker

summary: peter thought that the scariest thing about dating tony stark’s eldest daughter would be facing brooding starks. turns out, it’s facing the rest of the avengers.

words: 1.6k

warnings: au? (welcome to the latest episode of ‘eliza ignores infinity war and endgame’) everything is all fine and dandy between steve and tony, morgan is in this. also not really edited.

a/n: i made a post about peter babysitting morgan. don’t tell me that’s not the most perfect thing you’ve ever heard. this is the product of that.

“(Y/N).”

“Yeah, Dad?”

“Did you clean your room?”

“Did you clean your room?”

“(Y/N),” your Dad whines.

“Someone taught me this thing to deal with your pestering: if you ask me to do something, I ask you if you’ve done the same thing.”

“Did your Uncle Rhodey tell you that?”

“Uncle Steve, actually. Give him more credit.”

Tony rolls his eyes at you as you sit across from him on the kitchen island. He stands at the sink washing blueberries (for you and him, you guess it runs in the family) while you absentmindedly twirl a pencil in your fingers while staring at the functions problem in front of you.

“Question,” you say to your Dad. Tony looks up while mid-eating another blueberry. He nods in your direction for you to continue, “Why do I need to learn periodic functions? Like yeah, I get how there are real-life applications, but no cycle is perfect. I need to learn this again because, why?”

Tony chuckles softly throwing a blueberry up in the air at you. Ungracefully, you stumble out of your chair to catch it in your mouth.

He cheers at you before saying, “Well, I’m pretty sure you gotta learn it to learn more math.”

“Okay, that’s bullshit.”

“Very fair, but watch your mouth.”

“Says you.”

“You’re using that strategy again, aren’t you?”

The elevator door on the far side of the common floor at the Avengers’ Tower. You take a glance at the metal doors as they slide open, revealing Peter Parker. The puppy-eyed boy catches your gaze and you offer him a soft smile, which he returns.

Peter frequents the tower for several reasons: for the ‘Stark Internship,’ because your Dad likes the kid more then you let on, and because you and Peter have been dating for the past few months.

“Hey, look who’s here!” Tony says as he notices your gaze elsewhere. He throws a blueberry at Peter as he approaches, but instead of catching it, he whacks it away in surprise.

“Pete, don’t waste the blueberries!”

“You expect me to catch that? It was heading straight for my face!” he says before stepping forward and pressing a soft kiss to your cheek. You smile at him before he waves at your Dad, “Hi, Mr. Stark.”

He shudders at your PDA before saying, “I forgot you two were still teenagers and still did that whole…lovey-dovey affection thing.”

Peter blushes immensely while you roll your eyes, “It’s not like you don’t do that with Pepper.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Tony finishes before putting the washed blueberries in a bowl and sliding them across the counter to you and Peter. “You staying over for dinner, Parker?”

“Uh…I don’t know Mr. Stark. I don’t want to be intruding,” he stammers. You and Peter had been dating for about six months. Your Dad had almost no problem with the two of you together (“He’s a good kid. I’d rather you date him than some Upper East Side prick.”), Pepper thought he was a great influence and absolutely adorable, and your step-sister Morgan absolutely loved the kid. However, your extended Avengers family didn’t really know a lot about him. Your Uncle Steve likes him and knows he has a good heart, but everyone else was hesitant to let their little baby (granted, you were in high school) hang around with a guy, more so a guy with powers.

You poke him with the end of your pencil, “You’re just saying that because you don’t want to deal with domestic Avengers.”

“…So?”

Both Starks laugh at him as he stuffs blueberries in his mouth.

“C’mon, Parker. They’re harmless. Uncle Bucky looks brooding but he’s literally just a big teddy bear. Uncle Sam is a little—”

“Much,” your Dad finishes for you.

You throw a blueberry at him to shut him up, “Whatever. But he’s fucking hilarious.”

“(Y/N)! The mouth on you, I swear to God.”

“I wonder where I get it from?” You tell him sarcastically, to which he smirks at you.

“Seriously though,” Tony says to Peter, giving him a soft and reassuring smile, “consider staying for dinner. Pepper’s making pasta, Steve and I’ll try our hand at the barbeque.”

You clasp your hand around his, rubbing it softly, “You’re an Avenger now, and your family. Stay for dinner, Pete.”

He glances at the two of you before sighing, “Okay, I’ll stay. But—can we hang out with Morgan first, I love that kid.”

--

You and Peter walk hand-in-hand down the streets of Manhattan with a blabbering Morgan on his back. Morgan chats about her new-found knowledge on cheetahs on a documentary she watched at school while eating a cone of ice cream as Peter carries her piggy-back style.

You let Morgan go on for longer as you and Peter let your hands swing. The warm sun reflects off the buildings and you smile at Peter.

“Hey, Peter?” Morgan asks, offering you the ice-cream cone she’s holding so she can wrap her arms around Peter’s neck. You take the cone from her, not before smearing a little bit of the ice-cream on her nose. She laughs at you before rubbing it off.

“Yeah, kid?”

“Dad says you’re staying for dinner and you’re scared of all of my Aunts and Uncles,” your little sister states bluntly.

“I am not—”

“Peter,” you say with a soft smile, “you know she’s right.”

The three of you arrive at the entrance of Avengers’ Tower and make your way inside. Peter lets Morgan off his back and she waves at every employee milling around. The three of you make your way to the elevator and step inside.

“Hey, Miss F.R.I.D.A.Y.?” Morgan asks politely while looking up to the ceiling. You and Peter chuckle softly as she sways back and forth.

“Yes, Miss Morgan?” the automated A.I. says.

Morgan smiles, “Can you take us to my Dad? It’s dinner and I’m hungry.”

The elevator starts shifting upwards, “Of course, Morgan. Your parents are with the rest of the Avengers on the common floor for dinner.”

“Thank you!” she states delightfully. Morgan then fixes her gaze on Peter, “So. Dinner.”

“What about it?” Peter says while fidgeting.

“Just be yourself. Dad likes you. Mom likes you. (Y/N) likes you. Uncle Stevie likes you. I like you, you buy me ice-cream!”

Peter smiles at your sister before picking her up and giving her a hug. “How old are you again,” he asks jokingly.

“I’m five!”

“So wise. I bet you learn it from your Dad.”

“I learn it from (Y/N) actually.”

The elevator doors slide open and the smell of food wafts into the air. The Avengers are seated around the table while your Dad and Uncle Steve bring barbequed food from the porch. Pepper catches sight of you first.

“(Y/N)! Morgan!” she says with a smile.

Peter lets her down and she runs into Pepper’s arms, “Hi Mommy! Peter bought me ice-cream!”

“Did he now? Before dinner?” she says amusedly as you and Peter approach her. You press a kiss to your stepmother’s cheek as she gives you a tight hug.

“Hi, Peter! How are you, love?”

“I’m good, thanks for letting me stay for dinner,” he says while giving her a hug. After they separate, Morgan immediately grasps his hand.

“Of course, you’re always welcome here.”

Pepper leads the two of you two your seats and you greet people as you walk. You wrap your arms around your Uncle Bucky and Uncle Sam to give them a hug as you walk by, giving them both a kiss on the cheeks.

“Well, is this that Parker kid you keep talking about?” Sam asks, turning around in his seat to face you and Peter. Bucky does as well, his metal arm glistening in the light.

“Yes, sir,” Peter answers, sticking out his hand to shake, “I’m Peter.”

Instead, Sam stands and bring Peter in for a bro-hug, Bucky following. “Don’t need to call us ‘sir,’ kid,” Sam says.

“(Y/N) talks about you enough, you’re a good kid. You have a bunch of spider-powers and you still think my metal arm is cool. I respect that,” Bucky says.

“You’re always welcome here,” your Aunt Natasha says from across the table.

He smiles at awe at all of them and you wrap your hand in his, “Thank you, all of you.”

“Alright hooligans, time to eat!” your Dad shouts, walking back in the room holding a bowl of mashed potatoes. Uncle Steve enters the room behind hip holding two bottles of wine.

“Hey, Queens. Nice of you to finally join us,” Steve says jokingly, and Peter smiles enthusiastically in return.

“Hey (Y/N),” your Dad calls out, “help me with these damn potatoes.”

“Language!” Morgan calls from her seat beside Pepper.

The entire room bursts into glee and you turn to Peter as you watch him laugh as well. Without warning, you lean forward and press a soft kiss on his lips. Not caring if your family watches, Peter smiles against the kiss. You hear your Dad groan from behind you.

The two of you pull away and Peter smiles at you breathlessly. “What?” he asks.

You smile at him, “Nothing, it just…you look so happy.”

He smiles at you again and wraps his arms around you, pulling you into a hug.

“All right, that’s enough you two. We’re hungry,” Tony calls from across the table.

“Hurry up please, I’m hungry!” Morgan whines.

The room laughs again as the two of you take a seat and start dinner. In hindsight, Peter isn’t sure why he was nervous meeting the rest of your family. If they are anything like you, Peter knows he would love them as much as he loves you.

taglist: @sebastianstanfoundmymixtape​ @accio-rogers​ @lionheo04 @stupendoussciencenaturepanda​

[your-local-awkward-barista]

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by cami✪ (@sebsvuitton) on May 12, 2020 at 1:21pm PDT

CAN SOMEONE PLEASE TELL ME WHERE THIS IS FROM??? I LIVE UNDER A ROCK I'VE BEEN SEEING THESE PICTURES FOR DAYS NOW AND I'VE NEVER SEEN THE SOURCE AND I DON'T KNOW WHAT IT IS JKGKFKGKHKFKDKJD

(pic for announcement from Instagram: @ sebsvuitton)

[stantalizing]

Sebastian Stan

As a Jersey boy.

Just IMAGINE THE POWER. THE RAW, UNADULTERATED POWER.

Thank you.

[babyboibucky]

Hydra gave the wiener soldier a vibranium dick when they gave him his arm. They only had enough vibranium for one body part so they chose the dick, not the arm.

So uhh did the Winter Soldier kill people with his metal dick then???

Imagine the highway fight scene in the Winter Soldier movie except that he’s fighting Steve using his metal dick 😩

Nat in that scene would be like

“Most of the the intelligence community doesn’t believe he exists. The ones that do call him the *Seb Stan derpy voice* wEiNer sOldiEr”

[total-ass]

Response to the anon that said the kids on Dramarama get abused, the episodes are outrageous and nothing makes sense:

1.the kids don't get abused. Like for reals?! just compare how they are treated to how their Teenaged counterparts get treated on Total Drama. The Dramarama kids have it way easier. The only one that you could argue that is abused is Cody but I have a theory that he goes to two schools : one on his home planet and other on earth and, on the days he's on his planet, the other aliens go to earth and disguise themselves as him to cover up for him. And they are the ones that die wich brings me to my next point.

2. The reason why nothing seems to make sense is because some of the episodes really happened while others (like Jelly aches, Glove Glove me do, piñata regata and total eclipse of the fart) came out of the imagination of the kids. There are also some that really happened but where exaggerated by the producers and toddlers (Like Tiger's fail (i believe Gwen and Cody kept playing for 78 days not 78 years and he lost because he was hurt somehow, not because he died) and the tooth about zombies (there's no way Cody turned himself into a zombie. He probably just bit himself and started crying because he was hurt). There is also one episode (me, my elf and I) wich was either a play or a film they did for a contest or something like that. My theory is that, much like Total drama and Liv & Maddie, Dramarama is a show within a show... Or In this case a Cartoon within a Cartoon. Someone (most likely that army soldier from "a fish called Leshawna" that said the daycare called a lot) sold their stories to a Cartoon producer before the first episode aired and the confessional scenes are just the kids and chef telling the roterist about what they felt on that particular day.

If you want a list of wich episodes actually happened, here it goes:

Venthalla (happened but the level of bouciness of the ball was exaggerated by the kids)

Duck Duck Juice (happened)

Cluckwork orange (happened. Hey Total Drama has dolphins that can drive trucks, why Dramarama can't have werewolfs?)

Free chilli (happened but the final scene was imagined by the kids)

The date (happened)

Aquarium for a dream (happened)

Cutting corners (happened)

Sharing is caring (happened)

Ant we all just get along (happened)

Germ factory (happened)

Cone in 60 seconds (happened)

The bad guy busters (happened)

That's a wrap (happened. Total drama has raccoons that can unite and assemble itselfs to turn into a giant robot. Why Dramarama can't have mummies?)

Tiger fail (i already talked about this one)

A ninjustice for Harold (happened)

Having the timeout of our life's (happened)

Hic Hic horray (happened)

🍌🍌 & 🧀 (happened)

Inglorious toddlers (happened)

Not without my fudgy lumps (happened)

Paint that shame (happened)

Snot's landing (happened but everything that occurred inside Beth's 👃🏻 was part of her imagination)

A licking time bomb ( unfortunately it hapenned 🤢🤮)

From badge to worse (happened)

Snow Way Out (happened but the scenes with the hamster and the level of inflation of the suit was part of the kids imagination)

All up your drill (happened)

Toys will be toys (happened)

Stay goth poodle girl, stay goth (happened)

Gum and gummer (happened)

Invasion of the booger snatchers (entirely imagined by Harold though the kids did have a picture day)

Wristy business (happened)

Melter skelter (happened though Harold just imagined the dangers in the basement )

The never Gwending Story (happened)

There are no Hoppy Endings (happened)

Too much of a goo'd thing (happened but the slime coming to life and eating the kids was part of their imagination . They just got trapped on it)

The price of advice (happened)

Mother of all cards (happened)

Duncan disorderly (happened)

Soother or later (happened but Duncan imagined the scene were the stormy cloud calls him)

Camping in tents (happened)

Mutt Ado About Owen (happened but Cody imagined the thing that was with him on the hole)

Simon's are forever (the beginning and middle parts happened but the end was imagined by Izzy who got annoyed with Duncan and Leshawna for acting the way they did)

Stop! Hamster Time ( entirely imagined by Owen and Bridgette. She just got tired of taking care of the hamster)

Driving miss crazy (happened)

Weiner Takes All (happened)

Apoca-lice now (happened but the lices couldn't talk. That was imagined by the kids)

Gnome more mister Nice guy (happened. One of the aliens from Cody's planet was eaten by Owen)

Look who's clocking (entirely imagined by the kids)

Harold and the goblet of Flies (happened)

Stink, stank stunk (happened)

Glove glove me do (entirely imagined by Owen but he did find the gloves in the lost and found. The one that actually did everything Owen himself couldn't get right on the beginning was Noah but since Nowen didn't talk much on that particular day, Owen imagined that it was himself that did it with the help of the gloves)

Robo teacher (happened)

The tooth about zombies (already talked about this one)

Lie ranossaurus wrecked ( the beginning happened but the part with the second dinosaur onwards was imagined by Ozzy, Beth, Harold and Jude.)

An Egg-stremely bad idea (happened)

Exercising the demons (happened but no one got ripped in just a day. That was imagined by the kids)

.....

Ok I'm not gonna do all of them but you get the drill.

The end of Cartoon realism was imagined by Gwen and Beth.

Everything that happened on Beth and the Beanstalk was imagined by Beth.

Chef buying a copy machine was the only thing not imagined by Duncan on For a few Duncans and more.

The magical clawn noose was imagined by Harold and Owen.

The entire plot of upside of Hunger was imagined by Owen though that particular paralel universe does exist.

The entire plot of Jelly aches was imagined by the kids.

Owen imagined the entire plot of Total eclipse of the fart.

3.the episodes are not Outrageous!!😠😡👿 They are cool! 😠😡👿

[clarestrand]

Deutsche Börse Photography Foundation prize Catalogue with text by Orit Gat.

The award will now be announced (virtually) on Sept 14th. For further info on how to join the webcast please consult The Photographers Gallery Website.

Image = Information

Orit Gat

1 A beginning

In Paris, an artist painting in a studio that used to be part of a monastery. She goes out and gets the largest drawing papers she can find. Surrounded by paint pots and brushes, it’s an image that belongs in a tradition of artists painting away in Parisian garrets, only this is not that story. What Clare Strand was painting in her Paris studio during a three-month residency at the Centre Photographique d'Ile-de-France in 2017 was a translation of pre-existing photographs that were ‘read’ to her over the phone by her husband in the UK. From across the English Channel, he would give her directions that would encode an image of his choosing, and she would paint it.

2 Transmission

Strand and her husband were following an existing model. The method they were using to transmit information was described in George H. Eckhardt’s ‘Electronic Television’, from 1936, in which he outlined how a photograph can be transmitted via code over telegraph. In this system, the original image is divided into a grid, with every square being given a value from 1 to 10. 1 is white, 2 has a tinge of grey, 3 is greyer, 4 darker and so on until 10, which is black. The initial source images from which Strand’s husband chose the images he would transmit to her were 10-by-8 inches, which they divided into a grid of forty-nine squares across and sixty down, each about 5 square millimetres. If it’s boring to read, imagine the couple’s phone conversations: he would call and say 24-2; 25-4; 26-5; and so on. Through conversation, with Strand following her husband’s direction, the language would form a representation of the original image. Like a human fax machine.

3 The result

Is a series of ten black-and-white paintings in acrylic on paper. The history of art brings forth associations and relations, from the development of the grid as a foundation for perspective in the Renaissance, to the nineteenth-century illusionism achieved through Pointillism. There are Gerhard Richter’s black-and-white paintings, László Moholy-Nagy’s telephone paintings, Agnes Martin’s feather-light grids. But the connection to the history of art crumbles in front of the actual framed paintings. They’re human, Strand says, as she reasserts that she is not a painter. They’re messy, imperfect. There are hairs that stuck to the paper, dust congealed into the paint. However, in installation shots of the whole series, they look like another kind of work. Photographed, the paintings seem faultless: the black, white and grey hues reminiscent of aestheticized black-and-white photography; the paintings look clean, their edges not frayed, the small mistakes blend into the frame. It’s like they have two lives, as object and as image. When I ask Strand which one matters more, she answers, ‘I don’t know. What I find ironic is that, as much I try to push “photography” into different mediums, I can never escape the camera and how it operates as a tool of representation. With each press or catalogue reproduction, the paintings are represented as photographs, which is somewhat at odds with the concept of the work – photography transposing into painting only then to be represented by photography!’

4 Utility

To talk about the history of art and about installation shots is to ignore how the objecthood of the paintings depends on their creation. This series, titled The Discrete Channel with Noise, is at once the result of and the documentation of communication and its possible failures. Looking at the paintings, I want to say they look pixelated, but that would make them more photo than painting, more final product than process.

5 The first man who saw the first photograph

The relationship between painting and photography always makes me think of Roland Barthes writing in his essay on photography, Camera Lucida, that ‘The first man who saw the first photograph (if we except Niépce, who made it) must have thought it was a painting: same framing, same perspective. Photography has been, and is still, tormented by the ghost of Painting.’  Later in the book, he writes about photography’s relationship to reality, or to the document: ‘No writing can give me this certainty. It is the misfortune (but also perhaps the voluptuous pleasure) of language not to be able to authenticate itself.’ The photo as confirmation of fact. That fact, that reality, is communicated over phone lines in The Discrete Channel with Noise. When we look at a photograph, what we’re looking for, according to Barthes, is knowledge that a thing, an event, happened. He writes about Polish soldiers in a 1915 photo by André Kertész: ‘that they were there; what I see is not a memory, an imagination, a reconstitution, a piece of Maya, such as art lavishes upon us, but reality in a past state: at once the past and the real.’ What we see, in The Discrete Channel with Noise, is a story about reality rather than proof thereof.

6 Whizzing through the air

When I meet Strand, she hands me an assortment of notes. She’s hesitant about it for a minute, as if giving me homework rather than help. Or as if she expects communication can fail, and thinks a list of references may offer a way out of an impasse. The history of Morse code; pigeon post between Paris and England c. 1870–71; Eckhardt; Cybernetics founder Norbert Weiner and American mathematician Claude Shannon’s information theory, which gave The Discrete Channel with Noise its title: Strand’s research does not explain as much as expand the work. And then in the notes is a quote from the 1973 movie Charlie and the Chocolate Factory based on Roald Dahl’s writing, recreating Eckhardt’s transmission of images over radio. Here the character Mike Teavee, the winner of the fourth golden ticket, who loves this technology, explains: “You photograph something then the photograph is split up in to millions of tiny pieces and they go whizzing through the air, then down to your TV set when they are all put together in the right order” 

Mike Teavee, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, Roald Dahl (1971).

That it is possible to share an image, and the labyrinthine process of it whizzing through the air is in line with Dahl’s 1971 book, in which the candy factory includes an impenetrable room-sized machine that, when operated, makes a lot of noise, takes a lot of time, and then produces a single bit of chewing gum. Unimpressive until someone chews it and realizes it is as nourishing as a three-course dinner: tomato soup, roast beef with baked potatoes, blueberry pie and ice cream for dessert.

Proof: the overcomplicated can sometimes be amazing. 

A lesson: also worth exploring.

7 Thirty-six images on a journey

The ten images in The Discrete Channel with Noise were chosen from a collection of thirty-six images Strand has compiled for a previous work, The Entropy Pendulum (2015), in which each of these photographs, which were taken from a tabloid newspaper’s archive, was eroded by the weight of a pendulum over the course of one day in an exhibition, then framed. Strand rephotographed the physical photos from the archive, creating a digital output that becomes a dataset ready for reuse. The subject of those images related to what Strand refers to as the subject of her work in general – magic, illusion, the paranormal, communication, transmission, the way people thought communication technologies were magical when they were first introduced, the way Alexander Graham Bell called the telephone a way to ‘talk with electricity’. How to read the transformation of these images through the process in The Discrete Channel with Noise These images are on a journey of losing and gaining information. The project is a metaphor, if not a realization, for what images do anyway: in flux, they move and shift in meaning.

8 Shifting in meaning

Why pay attention to shifts? Because shifts in context can mean that information is lost, or misused. An art historian friend of mine regularly points out that Alexander Nix, the founder and CEO of Cambridge Analytica, studied art history in university. Art matters, images matter, she wants to say. All channels of misinformation need to be decoded. Is there a present and a real, like Barthes thought there was in an only slightly less technological time than the one we occupy, today? Or is the subject of study now how realities are fractured across channels of communication?

9 An entire history of communication

The diagram used to explain Eckhardt’s ‘Electronic Television’ has a man sitting at a table in front of a large black-and-white image divided into a grid of a woman with short, curly hair who looks a bit like an early Hollywood film star. His sleeves are rolled up, his back a bit hunched, he is clearly concentrating. He holds a long pointer stick and taps information onto a device resting on the desk he is sitting at. The cable running from that device spirals into a growing network of telephone poles that reach a window, and from that window to a box on the wall, and straight from the box to a set of headphones that another man wearing a blazer (or is it a lab coat?) standing in front of a large grid, only partially completed with the recognisable top of the short-haired woman’s head. He holds a paint brush at the same spot the other man’s pointer is. Behind him on a table are 10 boxes of paint numbered from 1 (white) to 10 (black) and some paint brushes. The caption reads, ‘Fig. 26. A Simple Method for Sending Pictures by Wire or Radio.’

Visually, it matters that the example is always a woman and the transmitters and receivers are always men. The message is that even in new technologies, even in a new world, some old signals remain. That is what Eckhardt’s diagram exemplifies. An entire history of communication reinforces the idea of who gets to speak across these lines. It is therefore fitting that The Discrete Channel of Noise is structured and executed by a female artist.

10 A piece of Maya

When Barthes writes that ‘no writing can give me this certainty’, he is asserting photography’s relationship to what he calls ‘the real’. But as a writer, he must have known that it is the rest of the above-cited list – ‘a memory, an imagination, a reconstitution, a piece of Maya’ – that is one of the potentials of art: to reconstitute is a way of reimagining the world. After Cambridge Analytica, or in line with Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, I want to argue that the redefinition or the exploration of that real is the contemporary condition. We come to things with suspicion, some of which is about recognising the failures of the systems around us. But we also come to them with a sense of possibility, a remnant of the Maya or the three-course meal chewing gum: the idea that the world is a story, and it can be shared.

[xtruss]

Culture: What Is April Fools' Day and Why Is It Called This?

— By Tom Fish | Newsweek | April 01, 2022

April Fools' Day: People have been playing pranks on April 1st for a very long time. MultiFaceTedGirl/Getty Images

April Fools' Day is an annual godsend for the most mischievous among us, as the first of the month is a time-honored tradition of fooling friends and family with tricks and pranks.

While this naughtiest time of the year can see imaginative stunts and hoaxes amuse many in real life and on social media, frequently they fall flat and prove just plain annoying.

But although April Fools' Day is certainly—for better or worse-a time for pranks, exactly why is shrouded in mystery.

Read on to find out the curious, competing and sometimes contradictory history of April Fools' Day.

What Is April Fools' Day?

No one can agree where the April Fools' Day tradition comes from. Nito100/Getty Images

Like other widely-anticipated days, such as Christmas, April Fools' Day has relatively uncertain origins.

Rob Weiner, Popular Culture Librarian at Texas Tech University, suggests no one really knows how April Fools' Day, also called All Fools' Day, first captured the public's imagination.

He told Newsweek: "The true origins of April Fools' Day are obscure and lost throughout history, yet April Fools' day is celebrated around the world from North and South America, to Asia and Europe and Africa.

"It is my view the idea for a day to play pranks and joke on one another was passed through oral traditions and stories initially.

"How else does one explain that there are similar 'holidays' throughout Europe—from Ireland, Scotland, Italy, Germany, England and France?

"With every legend and myth, there is often a kernel of truth, no matter how small that may be."

What Are The Origins Of April Fools' Day?

Some suggest the April Fools' Day tradition started because of events in the calendar. Anikona/Getty Imags

As with much in history, explanations for the origination of April Fools' Day sometimes appear to be a little at odds with each other.

Weiner believes points out there are many, occasionally competing, theories as to how April Fools' Day originated.

He said: "None of the following explanations fully account for the exact origins of April Fools' Day because pranks have played a role in celebrations and rituals throughout human history.

"April 1 being a day of fools has long been in legend and folklore for several centuries, and various cultures had days of foolishness around the start of April.

"The name April Fools' Day came from the act of people playing practical jokes toward the end of March or on the first day of April.

"Often times these were just silly pranks, but some did and do use the day for more malevolent jokes."

One states that it originated in France in 1582 (some say as early as 1564) Charles IX proclaimed the new year would no longer begin on Easter, but in January. Pope Gregory XIII is said to have ordered that the Gregorian Calendar replace the Julian Calendar, allowing January 1 to be the start of the new year.

Weiner said: "Those who did not follow the new calendar had pranks played on them in the middle of March through [to] April 1, because those who clung onto the old date were 'fools'."

As with other long-standing traditions, the history of April Fools’ Day is hazy. Mpinarevli/Getty Images

In Italy, those who celebrated the festival Hilaria at the end of March dressed up and made fun of one another.

Britain changed its calendar in 1752 to January 1 and embraced April Fools' Day by sending people on "foolish errands"

Weiner added: "However, one legend states that it goes back even further to the 13th century to a township in Britain called Gotham.

"When they heard that King John was going to come through their village they refused entry because they didn't want to lose their road which would have become the king's public property.

"The king being angry sent his soldiers into the town only to find the town's people acting foolishly. April Fools celebrates their odd behavior."

The day may be related to the vernal equinox (March 21) when people are fooled by a sudden change of weather.

By the 1600s, the habit of sending "idiots" on "fools' errands" in the springtime was a popular pastime in the UK.

In Greece, it is said that if one successfully plays a prank on someone, the prankster will have a year of good luck.

Weiner also suggested the tradition could have roots in Asia, adding: "Some argue there is a connection to the Hindu festival Holi, celebrated in late March, where people forgive and forget past grievances by throwing colored powder and water on each other."

[smaptain-smerica]

Subject X MASTER LIST

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

[wiener-soldiers]

tipsy (i) - peter parker

summary: you lost five years of your life to the blip. five years without your family, your friends, and without really being alive. your dad’s solution? send you and your friends on a fully-paid vacation to spain. no superheroes stuff, no villains; just pure, teenage fun. how eventful could one week be?

words: 1.1k

pairing: peter parker x stark! reader

warnings: drinking (not really underage if they’re legal in that country), typical teenage stuff, young love and pining

parts: part one, part two, part three

a/n: ooey gooey teenage fluff

Basic-(Y/N) did not come out often.

She was often reserved for the two months of the year where you aren’t worried about grades and school and being stuck in an Infinity stone or whatever happened; summer.

And when summer rolled around, the VSCO-loving, Instagram-whore, Basic-(Y/N) made herself known.

You weren’t really one to try to keep up with ever-changing Instagram trends (not that you are a “not-like-the-other-girls’ trope, you just had more important things to worry about), but during the summer, everyone, most especially your dad and your best friend, encouraged you to let loose a little bit more.

So, you stood in front of your bathroom mirror, fiddling with the friendship bracelet that Morgan, your stepsister, had made for you a few days prior, and readjusting your incognito airport outfit.

“You’re overthinking this,” your Dad says as he leans on the door frame to your bathroom, sunglasses perched on the bridge of his nose as he watches you decide whether or not you will be joining your friends on a trip to Barcelona, Spain.

You sigh and run a hand through your hair, “Yeah well, I don’t know why you’re letting me go to Spain with my friends. You’re planning something, aren’t you.”

“I am not!” he defends himself.

“Dad, you wouldn’t be paying for this trip unless you had some kind of motive,” you scoff, “Flying a bunch of teenagers to a country where we are legal? You are definitely up to something.”

Your Dad sighs before pushing himself off the threshold and walking towards you, arms open in an embrace. You quickly step into chest and breath the scent of whatever new cologne he’s wearing as he straps his arms tightly around you. You both stay in that position for a while before your Dad pulls away, ducking his head to look at your face. You stare back up at him.

“Look, kid,” he starts, “I know the Blip was hard for this family. You disappeared and came back with a new baby sister and a family who still mourned but tried to still carry on.”

Your eyes water at the thought of Morgan, the sister you cared about so deeply despite not being there for a lot of her ‘firsts.’

Your Dad smiles softly at you as you bury your head into the t-shirt he wore underneath his blazer. He rubs your back and continues, “But sweetheart, you gotta be a kid again. That grape took so much of your teenage years away and as a Father, isn’t it my job to bring it back?”

“But the drinking—”

“All of you would technically be legal if you hadn’t Blipped, except for that Brad kid. Wasn’t he like, two feet tall before?”

You laugh at him and shake your head, “I don’t know, he was really nice to me after I came back. Super understanding—I guess the trip felt like it’d be more fun with him?”

Your Dad gives his signature Tony Stark eye-roll, “Whatever, better be a good kid if I’m paying for him to go to Europe.”

The two Starks laugh in the bathroom in each other’s embrace when a buzz from your back pocket prompts you to pull away.

“Lemme guess, it’s Parker?”

You roll your eyes at the mention of your best-friend, “It is not—”

You cut yourself off at the sight of the text:

pete :)  may says u should be at the airport like 4 hrs before the flight? u still coming to pick me up or what?

“It was him wasn’t it?”

You collect your stuff and playful shove past your Dad, “He was just complaining that you take too long.”

--

Peter Parker had a long couple of months.

In an attempt to regain some of his teenage years back, he had agreed to go to Europe with his class to try to live a normal life—or some semblance of normality.

Instead, he spent his time fighting Mysterio and whatever Inception-shit that guy pulled off.

You had not been on the Europe trip as you and the rest of the Starks spent several months off-the-grid in their Upstate cabin, learning to be a family again. Peter understood the situation just fine: you had been Blipped and came back with a kid-sister. He was glad that you go to spend time with your family and adjusting to life again.

He still missed you though.

However mere weeks after the original Europe trip, Peter couldn’t say that he was expecting the text message from a group chat that he got.

(y/n)     im not in hiding any more yall. lets go on a trip

ned      the last time i was on a trip i literally almost died

betty    a trip? to where? we could come visit you upstate!!

(y/n)     don’t bother im moving back to the city with the fam. and i was thinking something…farther?

ned      florida?

mj        who in their right mind you want to go to florida?

flash    me

mj        my point still stands

brad    canada?

(y/n)     beautiful country but i can only take trees for so long. dad’s thinking spain? barcelona has sick beaches

ned      not all of us can afford spain…

betty    and ned’s original point? last time we were in europe we almost died

(y/n)     first off! a few things are gonna be different! one, ill be there. two, the avengers have resettled, my dad’s moving back into the city so threats can be handled by them. and three, dad’s paying for the whole thing. says we need a PROPER vacation. not like your europe trip that sounded like hell

peter    cmon guys i think it’ll be a good idea. we could all use a hard reset before school starts up again.

That’s where Peter found himself; sitting on the couch playing iMessage games with you as an episode of Law and Order played aimlessly in the background. His suitcase lied on his lap to make sure that May couldn’t sneak the suit in there when he wasn’t looking. Everyone needed a real vacation; he was just happy Mr. Stark felt the same way.

“No suit this time?” May asks from in front of him. He looks up and finds her holding the suit with eyebrows raised.

He shakes his head, “Mr. Stark said he’s got all threats under control and that we should just be kids and enjoy our trip.”

She nods understandingly and presses a kiss to Peter’s head, “That I can agree with. But if anything goes wrong, you call Happy okay? He’ll come get you.”

Peter shudders, “I can’t believe you’re dating him.”

“I wouldn’t call it dating per se…”

“May!”

A loud honk from the open window separates the two of them. Peter winces slightly before looking at his phone, only to see a text from you from a couple of minutes ago.

(y/n) <3    expect a honk! warned you lol

“That’s my ride,” Peter says before embracing May.

“Be good,” she says affectionately.

Peter nods against her, “Aren’t I always?”

taglist:  @sebastianstanfoundmymixtape @httpmcrvel @lionheo04

[nofomoartworld]

Troops in Riot Gear Deliver a Hidden Message in Venice

The art label FUCK ism TC operates under many monikers, including FEMIN ism TC, FXXX ism TC, XXXX ism TMC, and SUCK ism TC, which change continuously according to the artists involved and the concepts they focus on. The group has tackled issues like politics, deconstruction of social hierarchies, challenging power structures, peace, and feminism among others. Over the last few years, the Vienna-based trio of Anna Ceeh, Iv Toshain, and Matthias Makowsky, collectively known as XXXX ism TMC, have staged an anti-war performance art project, МИР – МИРУ – FRIEDE (Peace).

One woman and nine men dress as soldiers and stand in line like an honor guard with messages of peace written on their protective vests, which can only be seen using night-vision goggles. Under their new museum-meets-artwork initiative, MOTA (Museum On Tour Austria), XXXX ism TMC recently staged МИР – МИРУ – FRIEDE outside the Venice Biennale, the world's largest arts festival, to bring more awareness to their artistic call for peace.

In front of the Italian Pavillion (May 12th). Images courtesy XXXX ism TMC.

Artists that contributed messages to МИР – МИРУ – FRIEDE include Lawrence Weiner and Olaf Nicolai, among others. South African artist Kendell Geers's slogan, "Stealing fire from heaven," is rather mythological, while Iranian artist Parastou Forouhar's reads, "He kills me, he kills me not." Afghan artist Amanullah Mojadidi cut right to the chase with what Toschain describes as the angry, prompting, and incisive message, "Go bomb yourself." Weiner, on the other hand, offered a more sober and conciliatory slogan with, "Here Today, Here Tomorrow."

In 2016, when Ceeh and Toshain invited Makowsky (the only man) to join their artistic duo, XXXX ism TMC came into being and their anti-war performance project began to take shape. In recent years, Ceeh and Toshain have hacked Vienna Metro advertisements with their logos, spray painted the FUCK ism TC logo on Vienna's Kunsthalle Wien as a public statement against curators and museum directors copying artist works and concepts, and even enlisted the former Austrian President Heinz Fischer and the First Lady Margit to join and perform in their feminist installation САКРИЛЕГ. All of these works subversively harness the power of branding and mass messaging, and МИР – МИРУ – FRIEDE's message of peace is no different.

Artist statement seen through infrared night-vision goggles.

As Toshain and Makowsky tell Creators, the work essentially came into existence back in 2014, when they staged a theme-based site-specific installation for the World War I centennial at the Ehrenhalle of Burgtor at Heldenplatz in Vienna. This, along with a number of ongoing international crises and political tensions, inspired the trio to send out a message of peace to the world. While the collective created messages for the work, they also invited a number of international artists to create anti-war or peace slogans.

"We asked them hypothetically: 'When the going gets rough, and you artists go to the barricades to voice your protest, what will you take with you? A work of art, a project, a portfolio?'" say Toschain and Makowsky. "No. No more solo shows, no ego. Create a slogan.'"

Parastou Forouhar's artist statement seen through infrared night-vision goggles.

The contributing artists created 28 black posters displayed on the walls of the Ehrenhalle. Viewers could only see the messages when using military infrared night-vision goggles. It was here that the trio started engaging with the actual political situation, imagining what artists could do to make things better.

MOTA and МИР – МИРУ – FRIEDE came about because the artists did not want to work in exhibition spaces any longer, in white cubes surrounded by white walls. From that moment on, the trio's slogans for peace moved into public spaces with human bodies as performers.

Orlan looking through the IR Device, Giardini (May 11th)

Ceeh, Toshain, and Makowsky say that МИР – МИРУ – FRIEDE confronts not only art fans, but passersby and tourists who unexpectedly encounter it. Venice, with its constant influx of tourists and this year's Biennale, proved to be fertile ground for their protest for peace.

"Our XXXX ism TMC peace-forces are conceived to act everywhere and every time without being announced in advance," they say. "The [Venice] crowd loved the piece. A lot of people commented that it was one of the best works seen at the Biennale, [and] most of them didn't know it was guerilla and 'illegal,' so to speak."

Ai Weiwei looking through the IR Device, Piazza San Marco (May 10th 2017)

Lawrence Weiner's artist statement seen through infrared night-vision goggles.

Click here to see more of XXXXismTMC's work.

Related:

The Artful Activist Collective Fights Climate Change and Toxic Politics

Ai Weiwei's LEGO Portraits Depict 176 Activists and Political Prisoners

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[berrysimpson]

20 good books I read in 2016 :

(sorted in the order I read them)

Show Your Work, Kleon, Austin … Few books or writers have influenced my own writing and creative efforts more. I will probably reread this book every few years.

Rising Strong, Brown, Brene' … Ms. Brown asks: What do these people with strong and loving relationships, leaders nurturing creativity, artists pushing innovation, and clergy walking with people through faith and mystery have in common?

Living With A Seal, Itzler, Jesse … Itzler hired an accomplished Navy SEAL (widely considered to be "the toughest man on the planet"!) to live with him for a month as his personal trainer. It was a fun read, and a reminder we are capable of much more than we imagine

Target Tokyo, Scott, James … about Jimmy Doolittle’s daring raid on Japan in WW2

The Explorers, Dugard, Martin … an examination of the seven key traits of history’s most famous explorers

You're Not Lost if You Can Still See the Truck, Heavey, Bill … a funny book, and excellent writing, about outdoor adventures that almost always end up as catastrophes

The Geography of Genius, Weiner, Eric … the author traveled the world, from Athens to Silicon Valley—and back through history—to show how creative genius flourishes in specific places at specific times.

Becoming Wise, Tippett, Krista … Krista Tippett writes from the insights she has gleaned from interviews on her national public radio program and podcast, On Being.

A Resilient Life, MacDonald, Gordan … I have this book three times, now, and taught it once. This is the coaching you need to learn how to live a resilient life

The Jazz of Physics, Alexander, Stephon … combining physics and music, are you kidding me? What could be better.

My Grandfather's Blessings, Remen, Rachel Naomi … Remen is a cancer physician and master storyteller who can become a counselor and chaplain to other physicians. These stories made my cry more than any book I’ve read in decades.

Shut Up, Legs, Voigt, Jens … a fun book about professional cycling from one of the best riders

The Achievable Epic, Rantz, Jim … His account of hiking the Colorado Trail convinced me that I can do it too, which I am planning to do this summer

Grunt, Roach, Mary … I think I’ve read every book Mary Roach has written. I love the way she investigates things no one else will bother with, and then tell the story so well. This book is about the science behind war and soldiering

People of the Second Chance, Foster, Mike … How our not-so-perfect stories do not define us, but open us to the grace of God. I like this book so much I am teaching it this spring

The Martian, Weir, Andy … I was surprised to like this book as much as I did, since I don’t read science fiction and I’d already seen the movie multiple times. But it is an excellent combination of storytelling and engineering.

The World According to G, Thomas, Geraint … another fun book about professional cycling from one of the best riders

The Monuments Men, Edsel, Robert … about a special force of American and British museum directors, curators, art historians, and others, who risked their lives scouring Europe to prevent the destruction of thousands of years of culture at the hand of the Nazis.

Our Father Abraham, Wilson, Marvin … this book was a recommendation from our tour guide in Israel, about the Jewish roots of our Christian faith

Tongue of the Prophets, St. John, Robert … a biography of Ben Yehuda, who almost singlehandedly restored the ancient Hebrew language to popular usage

[smaptain-smerica]

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: {Y/n} Was at the top of her class at the Red Room Academy. Sought after for her expertise in the field by Dr. Zola, who purchased the widow for his Hydra Program. {y/n} Excelled quickly, and began teaching the new recruits using her previously taught skills. All was well until a James Barnes entered the program. His presence turned the entirety of the Hydra program on its head. Rules, hearts and trust broken time and time again.

Maturity: This book is rated mature for graphic descriptions of violence, foul language, and sexual content that may be sensitive to readers under the age of 18.

a/n: This story was originally posted on wattpad and will be updated there first. Follow there for quicker updates! https://www.wattpad.com/user/smaptin-smerica

Master List

Chapter 25

February, 1959

When I came to my senses the first thing I noticed was the intense cold. My entire body shivered and my aching bones cracked as I lifted my head. My entire body was stiff from the cold, preventing me from moving very much.

I strained as I lifted up my hand to wipe away the frost from the glassed tube I was in. I saw the inside of what looked like a lab. Some tables with various technologies on them as well as large machines.

I felt like a rusted robot, my body moving in slow, jerky motions. I was frozen, or on the verge of it.

Suddenly a familiar face appeared in the glass. Red hair and green eyes shone through. I raised my eyebrows and began to open my mouth. She shushed me.

Don't talk. You're in trouble. Hydra is mad. She began to speak to me in sign language through the glass. I kept having to wipe away the frost so i could see what she was trying to tell me.

I'm sorry for the future. I'm doing what I can.

"Ms. Harbor!"

A male voice that could only be Zola's boomed into the room. She jumped, turning her attention to the right. "Dr Zola. Just in time, I believe she's waking up."

Dr Zola walked into view, squinting his eyes up at me as I slowly looked down at him.

"Wonderful. Fully release her."

Caroline walked away from my view. I felt the cold around me completely evaporate and my body was my own once again. The air opened with a pressure locking sound and I stepped out into the real world. "Good evening, soldier." Dr. Zola hummed to me.

I looked at Caroline behind him with a confused look. You don't remember. She signed to me. I returned my attention back to Dr. Zola. "Where am I." I asked, playing along with the scenario.

I didn't remember much after passing out from the pain. Whatever the gave me back at Hydra was strong enough to knock me out for a while. As I was coming back to consciousness I remember now going through the memory wiping machine. Obviously, once again, it didn't work.

"You were you in a war and were severely injured. Left for dead by your friends and fellow soldiers. We found you and brought you back here. The Crytosis chamber, our newest invention. Allows your brain and body to remain on pause. This way, you heal without having to go through unbearable pain or addictive drugs."

The concept of the machine was rather fascinating, revolutionary even. Such a shame it was in the wrong hands. "How long have I been under for?" I asked.

"About one year, I would say." My heart dropped to my stomach. One year? I had been in a frozen sleep for a year?

"You are now part of our enhanced human development program. You've been injected with a serum that has enhanced your regular human capabilities 10 fold." This whole speech wasn't new to me. It was the third time I was hearing it now. I was still processing that I had been asleep for that long.

"But now, we have a mission. Don't worry, everything will come naturally to you. Come, follow me." Dr Zola quickly walked for the door expecting me to follow him. I took in stride after him and made me way through the familiar hallways. I recognized instantly where we were heading, the training center.

The doors opened and the first thing I saw was Bucky standing there in an entirely black tactical gear suit. He looked over at the door as we entered, his metal arm being occupied by a scientist that looked they were adjusting it.

"Good evening, Soldier."

Bucky didn't do anything other than nod a hello. He hardly gave me a second look. I admit, it hurt a little. But he had no idea who I was.

"Your next mission is to extract and exterminate. Here is your file." A woman walked up to me and handed me a Manila folder. I thanked them and watched as Dr. Zola and everyone else cleared the room.

The folder that I was handed was bared and empty. A series of photos were inside of a dark haired, olive skinned man. The only information that was provided was an address in Russia. I closed the folder and sighed.

"Here." I handed the folder in Bucky's direction. He looked at me with a cold gaze through his brow. He rolled his eyes and began to walk away. I was offended by his coldness, furrowing my eyebrows together in confusion. "You don't want to see it?"

"Already have. Let's go." His coldness was off-putting. He wasn't himself. He was hard cold and uncaring. I wonder What changed? Sure they brain washed him and erased everything but he usually was his warm self. I hope that they hadn't changed him.

We exited the building into the airplane hanger and loaded up to be shipped to our mission. Once we were in the plane, there were some neatly folded clothes over the plastic seats. Confused, I picked one up. It was a large, insulated jacket with many pockets.

"Here." I turned around to see Bucky standing behind me, holding out a similar looking jacket, only smaller. "This one's yours."

I looked down at the jacket and then back up at Bucky. "Oh, thank you. Here." We swapped the jackets and I slipped it on over my plain colored T-shirt. Wherever we were going, it must be cold. We were loaded up with different weapons, tactical gear and these round grenades. I examined them in my hand. There was a tiny button on top which I assumed was the activation.

I finally unwrapped my dagger, smiling as I moved my hand over the smooth surface. I was happy to have it back in my possession. "We're about to land!" The pilot yelled back to us.

I concealed my identity by putting on a face mask and goggle combination. The goggles were a dark tint, I could see perfectly out of them but were entirely dark on the outside. I looked up as Bucky approached my side. He had on the same facial covering. He looked down at me, only his eyebrows visible.

The plane rumbled in the landing, causing me to sway a little bit. The door opened and we were hit with a cold blast of wind. The both of us stepped out onto the cushiony ground. My mind was captured by the beautiful sight around me. The ground was smooth, sparkly and white. It had snowed.

I took off my goggles and mask, looking up into the dark sky as small, white snowflakes danced down from the sky. My face broke into a mesmerized expression. "Soldier, what are you doing?" A voice hissed at me.

Snow has been one of my favorite things as a child. It was rare that I got to see it during missions in the Red Room. Snow was clean, beautiful and quiet. It covered the ground in a cold blanket. It absorbed sounds, when it snowed everything was quiet. A quiet I loved to bask in.

I looked over at Bucky, he had taken his goggles off and was looking at me. I couldn't help my excited expression and wide smile. I saw a light in his eyes that I hadn't seen in a long time as we locked eyes. For a very brief moment, I saw the old Bucky inside of there.

"Put that back on. We've got shit to do." He hissed grumpily at me before putting the goggles back on and turning on heel to continue walking. I sighed. I felt a spark in my heart seeing that glimpse of the old man I once knew, but it quickly faded away. I put on my mask, following him towards the back of a hardly visible house.

We pushed through the door and then quickly shut it behind us. It was almost as cold inside as it was outside. I looked around the small, dusty living room. There were two reclining chairs facing a fireplace, off to the right was an open floor plan kitchen, then down the hallway there was a bathroom and a bedroom with a single queen bed. Great, how was this going to work out?

"We will sleep here for a few hours and then head out around 3 am." Bucky threw his things down carelessly on the kitchen table. Meanwhile I had found a small box of matches and began to attempt to start the fire. I scoffed a little and rolled my eyes.

"Yes sir." I said sarcastically, poking at the fire to try and get it to start.

It was Bucky's turn to roll his eyes. His thick, heavy boots thudded on the creaky hardwood as he approached the chair next to me. He sat down hard in the chair, a creak coming from the springs. "Are you always this arrogant?"

"You seriously don't remember me?" I asked, starting to get frustrated with his newly found hard nature.

"Why would I remember you I've only just met you." Bucky sounded rather annoyed as he leaned forward to rest his elbows in his knees. 

I bit the inside of my cheek, searching for an ounce of the sweet, kind soul I once knew in those cold blue eyes.

"You once told me that I would make your heart stop any time I walked into the room." I pointed an accusing finger in his direction, looking him deep into his eyes.

I saw a flash of emotion cross his face. There was no telling what emotion he was feeling. The only thing that changed was a brief furrowing of his eyebrows. "That proves nothing." He grumbled.

"The scars on your chest are from you trying to claw your metal arm off. That happened on one of our missions."

Instinctively Bucky's hand moved to his left upper arm. Though it was covered with clothes, I knew he was reaching for where the metal connected. I smirked a little, I had stumped him. He stood up quickly, huffing out air in frustration.

"You can take the first sleep." He offered, walking off to the kitchen. I stood up to follow him. "What do you mean the first?" I asked.

"There's only one bed. We can't both sleep there." He insisted, grabbing a cup and pouring himself a class of water.

I sassily shifted my weight to one him and rolled my eyes. "Scared you'll catch my germs?"

Bucky looked at me while taking a drink from his glass, raising an eyebrow at me. I put my hands up in surrender and turned on heel to walk back toward the bedroom.

"Fine! Don't complain to me when you're tired. You're more than welcome to join me!" My voice got louder as I walked deeper into the hallway before shutting the door. I frowned to myself, sliding down the door to sit on the ground. I brought my knees to my chest and hugged them.

Bucky's coldness towards me was upsetting. I didn't want to say heartbroken, because truly I didn't know what that felt like, but it hurt. I loved him. I'd like to think I still do if I could break down whatever shell he is living in now.

I flipped the fluffy comforter up and crawled into the bed to lay my head down. I quickly noticed how much colder it was now that I was farther away from the fireplace in the front room. I curled myself into a ball to try my best to keep warm.

I wasn't sure how much time had passed, but it felt like an eternity. I was stuck in this trance of half sleep half awake. Too cold to fully sleep but too tired to fully wake up. I felt the covers lift and the bed shift beside me. I finally opened my eyes, looking behind me to see the familiar shaggy brown haired man.

"What are you doing?" I asked in confusion. He scooted closer to me in the bed, pressing his chest against my back and then sliding his right arm underneath my neck. His arms wrapped around my chest and torso before he brought me further into his grasp.

"You were shivering." He said plainly before tucking his head into the back of my neck. His warmth helped significantly with my lack of body heat. I found myself smiling, curling more into his grasp and comfort. This was the Bucky I knew, he was still in there.

Maybe there's hope after all.

Next Chapter

[smaptain-smerica]

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: {Y/n} Was at the top of her class at the Red Room Academy. Sought after for her expertise in the field by Dr. Zola, who purchased the widow for his Hydra Program. {y/n} Excelled quickly, and began teaching the new recruits using her previously taught skills. All was well until a James Barnes entered the program. His presence turned the entirety of the Hydra program on its head. Rules, hearts and trust broken time and time again.

Maturity: This book is rated mature for graphic descriptions of violence, foul language, and sexual content that may be sensitive to readers under the age of 18.

a/n: This story was originally posted on wattpad and will be updated there first. Follow there for quicker updates! https://www.wattpad.com/user/smaptin-smerica

Master List

Chapter 31

I didn't think my brain could absorb any more information after learning about everything I had missed in the world since I was 12. Sam and Bucky answered every single question that I had and even argued about the timeline of events at times.

It was now hour 19 into our journey back to New York and we were almost there. Once I finally ran out of questions, I let myself sink into the back seat to think. Bucky never took his eyes off me from the passenger seat. "You okay? I know that was a lot." He tried to reassure me.

"Holy shit." I grumbled, looking up from my lap and at Bucky's face. "I can't believe that you're in the Smithsonian."

Both men let out deep belly laughs. "We will start there whenever we get back to New York."

I gave Bucky a smile as he turned back around to give Sam instructions back to his apartment. I let my face drop. The world was so big, and I was free. Where would I go? I've only seen parts of Europe, I don't remember parts of America. Would I just follow Bucky wherever he went?

It was easy to spot New York as we approached from a distance. It wasn't until I looked up from my lap that I realized we had entered the city. My face dropped in shock and I scooted over to the window to try and get a glimpse of all the lights and buildings. Even with the setting sun the city looked alive. I thought I might actually see the buildings breath if I looked close enough.

The window I was staring out rolled down and I stuck my head out into the cool evening air. The wind whipped my hair in all different directions but I didn't care. I was too mesmerized by the colors of all the lights.

"Welcome to the city that never sleeps, y/n." I heard Sam say through the wind. I watched as I passed huge TV's hanging from buildings displaying advertisements and different things like that.

I finally brought my head back into the car. My hair was a mess from the wind and I locked eyes with Bucky. "It gets easier, but there's nothing like seeing it for the first time." He smiled at me, which I gratefully returned with an excited smile of my own.

~~~

Bucky's POV

Watching the way that y/n's face lit up as she took in the sights of New York lifted my heart. I was scared that she would be terrified. But she handled us catching her up and seeing the city surprisingly well. It gave me hope.

Sam pulled up to my apartment building and dropped us off. He explained that he had some family here that he was going to stay with. I was glad, honestly. My studio apartment was rather small for three people. Plus I didn't want him to know I still slept on the floor.

The modern day elevator was an interesting first experience with y/n. She jumped a little once it started moving, grabbing my arm for support. I laughed a little, though I don't blame her. This building was old and the elevators were sketchy at times.

I opened the door for her and let her in. I watched her walk around my small space and suddenly felt embarrassed. I wasn't expecting guests. There were pillows and blankets strung out on the floor in front of the tv. There were hardly any decorations on the walls. Luckily the bed was made, mostly because I hardly ever touched it.

"Um," I spoke to cut through the awkwardness I was feeling. "Do you want something to eat? Are you hungry?" I offered, silently praying I had left something edible in the fridge.

She just looked at me, her face displaying nothing but I could see the gears turning inside of her head. I stopped beside her, waiting for her answer.

"When's the next time I'm going to get to eat?" Her answer broke my heart a little. I know exactly where she was coming from. Although, I was overcome with joy that I was the one to get to tell her she didn't have to live like that anymore.

"Whenever you want." I put my hands on either side of her face as she looked up at me. How easily I could get lost in her eyes. "You're free to do whatever you want now."

A wide and bright smile spread across her lips as her eyes flipped back and forth between mine. "Then no, I'm not hungry. I will eat later."

I returned her smile with one of my own. "Atta girl." I praised jokingly as I let go of her face. She kept staring at me, the distance between us close. Dangerously close. I wanted to kiss her. A feeling I hadn't felt in a long time. I didn't even know I still had these feelings for her until she was here. Standing in front of me was the lost love that haunted my dreams. I woke up wishing I could have seen her one last time. Now? I prayed to whoever was listening that I would never wake up from this dream.

"Do you sleep on the floor?" She asked, drawing me out of the depths of my mind. I grimaced at the question. To no fault of her own, I was just  still embarrassed by it.

"Yes, I can't seem to get to sleep in a bed."

She looked up at me with a sympathetic smile before immediately moving on to exploring my home. I didn't realize that it was something I missed about her, but she didn't push me further. Going to therapy and being swarmed with people constantly asking me questions was exhausting. Y/n never pushed for more, never asked me to explain beyond. She was content with what I told her, and that was a relief.

"Well, I'll get you a shirt to sleep in and you can take the bed." I suggested, walking into the space where my bed and closet were.

"And if it's too comfy you'll save me a spot on the floor?" She asked with a mischievous hint to her voice.

I let out a laugh while pulling out an old T-shirt of mine. "I'll save you a spot right next to me." I joked back.

I made sure she was settled. I gave her a toothbrush to let her brush her teeth, a hairbrush, and a cup of water to keep by her bed. She crawled under the covers, settling herself into the king bed. "I see what you mean about the beds." She commented as I walked back to where the light switch was.

"Well, the floors still open if you're too comfortable." I replied, leaning on the wall frame.

Y/n smiled once more at me, making my heart nearly flutter out of my chest. "I'll be okay, Buck. Let's get some sleep."

I smiled gently at her trying to reassure me. She knew I was worried. "I know you will. Goodnight," I paused before turning the light off. "Diamond." I slipped around the corner just in time to see a pillow roll on the floor at my feet.

"Goodnight, asshole." She snapped at me from the dark.

I chuckled, shaking my head as I also got myself ready for bed. I debated staying up to watch her, make sure she didn't have any nightmares, but sleep got the better of me.

~~~

A creak in the floorboards caused me to jolt awake. I listened with my ears first before sitting up and looking in the direction of the kitchen. The city lights cast a faint yellow glow through the window in the kitchen. I saw a silhouetted figure standing by the kitchen sink.

"Y/n?" I asked with no answer from the unmoving shadow. I looked at the time on the microwave. It was nearing 3 am.

"Did you need more water?" I asked, standing up to approach her. It was weird that she wasn't answering me. Maybe she was sleep walking?

I stopped in my tracks when I noticed a shining metal object clutched in her hand. I put my hands up in surrender. "Y/n, put the knife down." I instructed.

Finally, she turned around to walk my way. She walked around the kitchen island and was now fully facing me. She stepped into the light, the same dark look in her eyes as the first day she showed up.

"Shit." I hissed.

Y/n advanced, throwing herself and the knife in my direction. I dodged her swings quickly as she backed me towards the wall. I slipped around the corner and into my bedroom area. I used dodges and sometimes my metal arm to block her blows.

I needed to get that knife out of her hands. She was too lethal wielding it. "Come on y/n, we can talk about this."

She responded by lunging for me with an angered yell. I moved at the last second, the knife plunging into the wall. I took this opportunity to kick her in the chest and send her flying backwards. I must have used more force than I thought because she whacked her head on the floor pretty hard, knocking her out.

I took the knife out of the wall, grumbling to myself about it while I approached her slowly. Her body lay completely still on the floor, limbs sprawled out wildly. I knelt down at her side and looked at her chest. She was still breathing.

I reached my metal hand tenderly down and put it on her chest. I could feel her heart beating. "Y/n." I spoke gently, shaking her to try and wake her up.

When that didn't work I moved my hand to touch her face. When the metal made contact with the side of her cheek she jumped awake, frantically sitting up and scooting back.

"You're okay, you're okay!" I tried to calm her frantic state. Her eyes looked at me, panicked and confused.

"How... what happened?" She finally asked. I was afraid to tell her, I knew how it felt to come out of it and not remember what you did or who you hurt.

"It's nothing, you're okay now." I reached my hands out to her in a comforting manner and she took them. I slowly rose us to a standing position.

"How did I get out of bed, I don't remember..." she paused, looking around the room before finally laying eyes on me. "Did I attack you again?" She asked quietly.

I nodded in response. "It's okay. You're here now."

"Shit, Bucky I'm so sorry."

"This is why we're going to Wakanda tomorrow." I put my hands on either side of her face and forced her to look at me. I could see the desperation and sadness in her eyes. Tears lined the bottoms of them and I could tell she felt guilty. I brought her into my chest, wrapping her in a reassuring hug.

"Come on, let's go back to bed." I whispered encouragingly to her. She allowed me to guide her back to the bedroom where she laid down on the bed.

For the first time since I moved in, I crawled into the bed beside her. It felt like I was sinking into the mattress. But the look of relief on her face when she saw me get in bed was more than enough to make me want to stay.

"Was it like this for you?" Her soft voice asked in the dark room. I sighed, not knowing how to answer. Part of me didn't want to answer. As much as I avoided reliving my past as possible, she was a walking ghost of it. I could suffer though a few bad memories for the sake of comforting her.

"Sometimes, yes. I wouldn't remember in the moment what I was doing. I would come out of the trance not remember how I got there." I hesitated finishing that sentence. When I really started remembering again is when I'd have nightmares. I thought they were just dreams until I started to have them over and over again. I wanted her to be able to sleep, so I opted out of telling her that much.

"And you got better?" Y/n asked.

I nodded. "I got better."

This seemed to comfort her. Her body let out a large sigh and she closed her eyes. I watched her for a while. I watched her breathing as it slowly fell into a steady, rhythmic pattern. I didn't need to go back to sleep. I needed to make sure that I was there for her in case she needed me.

That's what I wished I had, and I know that she would have done it for me had she been able.

I don't know what happened to her or who did this to her, but I was going to find them. I would hunt them down for the rest of my days if I had to. My therapist wouldn't be happy, but for Y/n, I was going to throw rule number 2 out the window.

Next Chapter in Progress

[smaptain-smerica]

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: {Y/n} Was at the top of her class at the Red Room Academy. Sought after for her expertise in the field by Dr. Zola, who purchased the widow for his Hydra Program. {y/n} Excelled quickly, and began teaching the new recruits using her previously taught skills. All was well until a James Barnes entered the program. His presence turned the entirety of the Hydra program on its head. Rules, hearts and trust broken time and time again.

Maturity: This book is rated mature for graphic descriptions of violence, foul language, and sexual content that may be sensitive to readers under the age of 18.

a/n: This story was originally posted on wattpad and will be updated there first. Follow there for quicker updates! https://www.wattpad.com/user/smaptin-smerica

Master List

Chapter 30

The trip to Sam's house was a short one. The main difference I noticed in the world was the style of house change. But other than that, the small town looked simple. I was grateful there wasn't a huge sensory overload with it.

It was nearing 1 am when we quietly slipped in the door of the house. Sam made sure to open and close the door with dramatic quiet. Unfortunately, it was pointless because a living room lamp flipped on and a black woman in a nightgown and bonnet was sitting in an arm chair. "Do you know what time it is?" She demanded.

I shifted to my toes to whisper into Bucky's ear; "sister?"

"Yep." He responded curtly, not taking his eyes off of Sam.

"Sarah, I told you we wouldn't be back until later." Sam tried to reason with his sibling. Unfortunately, her momma bear instincts kicked in.

"The police said someone attacked you!"

"Not me, Bucky!" Sam quickly flipped the script and pointed a thumb back at us. Bucky pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.

"And you bring a weapon covered stranger into my home? Is this who attacked you?" Sarah gestured her hand towards me and threw me a look. I felt the heat rise to my face in embarrassment. I looked down at the floor, wanting my eyes to be anywhere but on Sarah or Sam.

Bucky's hand traveled to the small of my back for comfort. He gave me a gentle scratch while Sam and Sarah excused themselves from the room to go talk. My feet moved on their own it seemed, turning on heel and exiting out the front door with Bucky calling after me.

"Y/n, please wait."

"I shouldn't be here." I shouted back, continuing to walk into the yard near a tree with a tire swing.

"Y/n, it's okay. Sarah is just tired. It's only for a night."

I stopped, turning around to face him completely. I couldn't help the tears forming in my eyes as the weight of my situation crashed down on me. The small front yard was illuminated by the full moon overhead, casting a white glow across Bucky's face. 

"No I mean I shouldn't be here at all! I spent all those years killing innocent people and now 60 years later I somehow get a second chance? I am the least deserving person of that. 60 fucking years and it feels like I took a 10 minute nap! Zola should have put that bullet through my head instead-"

"Y/n!" Bucky was closer to me than I thought. My vision was blurred by my emotions that I didn't notice him right in front of me. His hands grabbed my wrists to stop them from frantically flailing. I met his blue eyes that now looked grey in the moonlight. Tears brimmed the bottoms of them as he looked at me with a passionate intensity.

"I'm sorry." He whispered. His hands moved from my hands to either side of my face which forced me to look at him. I could read every raw and real emotion that he was feeling. "I'm sorry this happened to you. And I wish I could change it."

His voice was hardly above a whisper, broken and full of emotions. I felt a quiver in my lip begin as the emotions finally became too much to hold in. I let my head fall onto his chest as waterfalls of tears silently slid down my cheeks. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat echoed in my head and helped calm me. Bucky simply hugged me back, stroking one hand comfortingly over the back of my head.

"Hey buck!" Sam called into the yard from the front door. Thankfully we were far enough away that he most likely couldn't see that the both of us had been crying. "You guys are good, come on." He encouraged.

Bucky and I looked at each other. He gave me a gentle smile before bringing his hands up to my face and wiping the tears away with his thumbs. I gave him a pitiful attempt at a smile before taking his hand and heading back into the house.

"Unfortunately, I only have the couches to give you. But, tomorrow is Saturday so Sarah is making waffles for breakfast so we can talk more about our next course of action then." Sam talked a little nervously, his eyes darting between both Bucky and I.

"Sounds good. Thanks Sam." Bucky thanked his friend with a smile and then looked over at me. I looked between the two men and then back down at myself. I was still wearing a black tactical suit.

"You don't have a T-shirt I could borrow, do you?" I asked before looking back up at Sam. His mouth spread into a wide, crooked grin before he nodded.

"Yeah, I'll get you some shorts too." He offered before quickly making his way down the hallway.

Once I received my clothes for the night, I settled into the uncomfortable couch, staring blankly at the ceiling. I laid as still as a board, my fingers gently tapping together as an anxious tick. I couldn't sleep. How could I sleep? I was just asleep for nearly 60 years. Do people know about me? What I did? Is there any record of me anywhere? They said Hydra and the red room were disbanded, was I in those files they recovered?

"Y/n?" Bucky's gentle voice brought me out of my mental trance. I looked over at him and he was looking at me from where he laid on the couch. "Are you going to sleep?" He asked.

I adverted my eyes, returning them to the ceiling and simply replying. "No."

I heard him shift his weight around and the blanket over him rustle. I looked over at Bucky to see him rotating to the side. He pulled the blanket up and patted the empty space he created. "Come here."

I listened to him. For me it felt like a short amount of time had passed. He had been through and seen so much since I last saw him. I wondered if those feelings were still there for him or if they had fizzled out. Him offering to lay next to me gave me a little hope. I got up from my spot and slithered into the covers. It was a small fit, but the feeling of his arm slipping around my waist and up my shirt gave me goosebumps. His warm hand gently scratched the bare skin on my lower back and he looked down at me with a gentle smile.

My eyes traveled around his face. The new age lines, the short hair, he looked exactly the same yet so different. I furrowed my eyebrows together once I saw the scratch mark on his cheek. I brought my hand up to his face, gently brushing my thumb underneath it. "Did I do that?"

Bucky nodded in response. "Matches the one you gave me on my forehead."

I let out a chuckle, thinking about the fond memory. My eyes self consciously went to that side of his forehead where there wasn't even a scar. My eyes returned to his blue ones and confusion washed over me. "How do you remember that?"

Bucky smiled a little bit at my realization. "I remember everything."

Shock fell over me. I couldn't find the words to say quite yet. How? When?

"Some things are a little fuzzy still," Bucky continued, taking everything I was thinking and answering. "But everything with you, I remember clearly."

I felt a relief wash over me. I was so happy for him. He was able to remember everything. His friends, his life before, he was able to remember who he was. I remembered him being so distraught about it before. "That's incredible." I smiled widely and genuinely.

Bucky smiled down at me. His hand traveled further up my side and his fingers skipped over the indent in my skin from the metal rod. He quickly retracted his hand, bringing it now against my back and pulled me closer to him. "I also remember falling in love with that beautiful smile. Twice."

I could feel the heat press up my face and into a wide smile as I looked at him in the dimly lit space. My heart dropped as I remembered the moments before I got put into cryostasis. My mouth turned down in memory of my red haired friend. "Do you remember Caroline?" I asked quietly, the words barley escaping my lips.

Bucky's face dropped as he looked between both of my eyes for a point of focus. He nodded grimly. "I do." He finally answered with equal quiet.

"Why?" It was a question I was wondering the moment before I was frozen in time. I knew it wasn't the real him I knew, but I at least thought he would have fought it.

"I was brainwashed and programmed with trigger words to completely take over my free will." He explained to me. Bucky brought his hand up to my face and gently stroked his fingers through my hair, securely tucking strands behind my ear. "Whoever spoke those words had me firmly under their command. I couldn't do anything to stop it."

I frowned. I still vividly remembered everything he had gone through in the time I knew him yet he continued to go through so much worse when I left. "Bucky..."

"But," he stopped me from continuing my thought. "The place we're going, Wakanda, they helped me. Rehabilitated me and made me better. Now, the words don't work. Nobody can control me." He smiled at me fondly for a moment before continuing.

"You're going to love it there. I thought about that often while I was there. You would've loved it there. It's beautiful, from the people to the landscape and the technology. All of it is amazing."

I smiled at the way he explained it to me. Even after all this time he still thought about me. I was surprised he even remembered me. "Well, I'm here now." I whispered.

"You're here now." Bucky whispered in astonishment. "And I cannot believe it." His hand gripped my face now and I couldn't take my eyes off of him. This all felt like a dream, a fantastic dream that I was terrified of waking up from. I hoped that if I didn't go to sleep that I would continue to live in this moment. I was terrified to face what the world has become. I was also terrified that I might relive the past if I closed my eyes. Then I would wake up back in the hydra encampment.

Bucky pulled me into his chest and the steady sound of his heartbeat entered my mind. It echoed on the empty corners and lulled my eyes closed. I felt his breathing change, the intermittent twitches of his muscles letting me know he had fallen asleep.

I slowly went to sleep too. Hoping and praying that I woke up exactly where I was.

~~~

My mind was slowly being drawn from sleep by muffled voices in my ears. I expected myself to wake up and be in a lab, but the warmth next to me was confusing. I opened my eyes and looked up at the ceiling, only to see two wide eyed boys looking down at me.

"Hi." I croaked out.

"Hi." The older boy said with a slight crack in his voice.

"AJ, Cass, leave them alone!" Sarah snapped from the kitchen. The two boys hurried quietly out the front door and shut it behind them. The door shut rather loudly, waking Bucky with a start.

With wide eyes he scanned the area for a moment, before finally resting upon me. "Good morning." His rough voice left his throat.

"Good morning." I replied, shifting to sit up on the couch. I stretched my aching joints up into the air, a few cracks escaping.

"Breakfast is ready." Sarah called into the house, taking off her apron and walking towards the door with a smile at the two of us.

"Did you sleep?" Bucky's question drew my focus to where he was, shifting his weight around to sit next to me.

"For a little while, yes."

"Good." While rubbing his eyes, I noticed a necklace around his neck that I hadn't seen before. Maybe it got untucked sometime in the night. I reached over to grab one of the dog tags.

"James Buchanan Barnes." I said aloud, running my fingers along the raised metal on the tag.

Bucky chuckled while never taking his eyes off me. "Careful, or you'll start to sound like my mother." He joked.

I hummed a laugh in response, finally letting go of the tags. "From when you were in the army?" I asked.

Bucky nodded as an answer.

Through the front door burst two flashes of children, laughing wildly and sprinting for the kitchen. They nearly collided with Sam who had just exited the hallway. "Woah watch it!" Sam scolded them.

Sarah came through the door after them, nearly doubling over and out of breath. "I'll get you two... later..." she said in between breaths.

I finally rose to my feet, Bucky following suit after me. We made our way to the kitchen and fixed ourselves plates of food. Well, Bucky made mine for me, making sure I got every topping I wanted.

AJ and Cass, who I learned were Sarah children, had already finished and went outside to play. That left the adults inside to talk. Sarah kept herself busy by washing the dishes, but I could tell she wanted to know what was going on.

"So, I got in contact with Agent Ross, he is getting clearance from T'challa and Shuri for an aircraft to pick us up. But, we'd have to go to New York first."

"Perfect. We can stay at my place until we leave." Bucky offered.

"Sounds great." Sam added.

It wasn't until I listened to the two of them talk that I actually had no idea where I was. I assumed America, but which state? Where at in the state? Somewhere south, obviously close to the water.

"What are you thinking about?" Bucky asked, nudging me so I escaped my thoughts.

"Yeah, sorry. I just don't know where we are." I admitted, looking between the two of them.

"Oh, Louisiana." Sam confirmed.

"Okay," I nodded. "And where is New York?"

"Um, north east. About a days travel by car. Unless we take a plane." Bucky explained.

"Can your arm make it through a metal detector to get on the plane?" Sam asked.

Bucky opened his mouth to argue, but then closed it, seeming to think about it for a moment.

"Regardless," I drew the conversation back on topic. "I say we leave right away. I don't want to waste any time to figure out what's wrong with me."

Bucky put a hand on my knee and gave me a gentle squeeze. "Alright, we leave right away then." Bucky then turned his attention back to Sam with a serious tone. "Don't feel obligated to come. If you have other things going on-"

"Are you kidding?" Sam interrupted. "We're going back to Wakanda, my calendar is clear."

Next Chapter

[smaptain-smerica]

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: {Y/n} Was at the top of her class at the Red Room Academy. Sought after for her expertise in the field by Dr. Zola, who purchased the widow for his Hydra Program. {y/n} Excelled quickly, and began teaching the new recruits using her previously taught skills. All was well until a James Barnes entered the program. His presence turned the entirety of the Hydra program on its head. Rules, hearts and trust broken time and time again.

Maturity: This book is rated mature for graphic descriptions of violence, foul language, and sexual content that may be sensitive to readers under the age of 18.

a/n: This story was originally posted on wattpad and will be updated there first. Follow there for quicker updates! https://www.wattpad.com/user/smaptin-smerica

Master List

Chapter 29

{y/n}'s POV

My heart dropped into my stomach at the sight of Bucky. My mind couldn't process exactly what I was seeing. I felt instant relief flow through my body. Instinctively I ran towards him, he took a few steps towards me until we met in a hug. I wrapped my arms around him so tightly, grateful to feel the warmth of another person.

His arms were just as tight as mine, wrapping an arm around my lower back and then bringing a hand up behind my head, holding me in a protective position. He kept me as close to him as possible to him, his head tucked into the nape of my neck. My head was in his shoulder, taking in his familiar musk. This time he smelled somewhat... salty. Like sea water.

He pulled back from the hug, resting his hands on my face. I looked up at Bucky's face, examining it. He looked older, like he had been around and seen things. "When did you cut your hair?" I attempted a joke, reaching my arms up to ruffle the shortened hair on his head. A weak smile was brought to his mouth as he grabbed my hands and took them in his own. I looked down at his left arm, furrowing my eyebrows together in confusion. I brushed my thumb across the smooth metal, unfamiliar to the one I was used to.

I removed my left hand from his right one, reaching his metal arm out so I could look at the metal arm better. I ran my hand up the smooth and cold metal. What once was silver was now black and gold, an unfamiliar texture laced within the mechanisms of the metal appendage. I looked up at Bucky, complete confusion resided within me and it was clear my confusion was expressed on my face as well.

Bucky looked sad through his weak attempt at a smile. "I need to tell you something." He told me, hardly above a whisper. My heart dropped, I had never seen him look so nervous, so hesitant to say something. He grabbed me by the shoulders, placing me down in the chair I was sat in before. He knelt down in front of me, my hands still gently caressed inside of his as he stroked his non-metal thumb across my knuckles.

"You're scaring me, soldier." I let out a nervous chuckle upon seeing him take a deep breath and lick his lips in thought, I could visibly see the gears in his mind.

"{y/n}, you've been asleep for a really long time." His blue and misty eyes met mine, anticipating my reaction.

"I don't understand what you mean, what's a long time?" Confusion still boiled inside of me. He was tip toeing around what he was trying to get at, treating me like a child with every hesitation he did to try and explain the thoughts in his mind.

"Damnit Bucky just tell me, stop avoiding it." I demanded, taking a tighter hold on his hand which he reciprocated. He bit his bottom lip tightly, looking into my eyes before he answered.

"{y/n} it's been almost 60 years. It's 2024." I started to laugh a little, not believing him. I closed my eyes and shook my head while a deep chuckle rose from within. The reality of the truth set in when I looked up at him, his face stone cold and serious. "You're lying." I demanded like I knew the entire truth.

"Sweetheart, I wish I was. Zola died in 1970, Hydra was defeated in 2014. Dreykov and the black widow program was terminated in 2016. So much has happened between then and now."

Disbelief crawled it's way through every inch of my body like spiders trying to find a home. I could feel myself getting heavier. Was this true? It surely didn't feel true. It felt like I had only been asleep for a second. How had 60 years passed? "How... how are you... how am I?"

Bucky's hands gently reached up to my face and he forced me to look at him. "I know, I know. I went through the same thing. I'm going to help you figure this out."

I stood up and pushed the chair back away from my legs dramatically, taking a step back from Bucky. I looked down at him with utter disbelief. My mind couldn't wrap around what he was telling me, I refused to believe a single word of what was coming from his mouth. This had to be some kind of test, a trick. Zola was behind that mirror watching as he forced Bucky to tell me these lies.

"No. You're lying!" For some reason I began to cry, my voice cracking as I yelled the last two words at Bucky. I could feel tightness in my throat and the familiar welling of tears in my eyes. "Zola is behind there, isn't he?" I demanded Bucky answer me, pointing my finger at the two way mirror on the wall in front of me. "This is some kind of trick. Please tell me this is some kind of trick because that's not possible. Please just tell me now, it's not funny anymore." I could feel the emotion flowing out of my eyes and down my face.

I could see the sadness on his face. He felt bad for me, which was the last thing I wanted. Bucky stood up and approached me with gentle hands outstretched. He tried to shush me, tried to talk to me but I couldn't hear him. I was brought back to reality by the cold metal feeling of his hand on the side of my face. I looked up at him, knowing my face looked at terrified as I felt. His face showed sympathy as he took me into his chest, hugging me tightly.

I felt my body shudder as I let out a sigh. This only made Bucky hold on to me tighter as we slowly collapsed back down to the floor. He held me the entire time, intertwining his fingers in my hair. The only thing I could feel were his arms wrapped around me, sheltering me from everything in the outside environment. "I'm sorry." I whispered.

"It's okay. You're okay." He whispered back into my ear.

The police-locked door slid open, drawing my attention from the situation to the new stranger. Instinctively I toughened up, sniffling away the emotions and wiping my face. "Buck? I found something."

I looked up at the darker skinned man, he was tall and muscular with a buzzed head. His shirt was grey and he wore straight cut blue jeans and some running shoes. I then looked over at Bucky who looked at me then back at the person who entered the door. He gently lifted me off the floor and guided me towards the entryway. I could feel every muscle in my body stiffen approaching the stranger. Bucky had his grip tight on my shoulder, giving me reassuring squeezes.

"{y/n}, this is Sam. Sam this is {y/n}." He introduced us. Sam held out his hand to me, an uneasy smile on his face. I hesitated, I knew that look. Bucky must have told him about me. The feeling of not knowing what I'm going to do next, like he was preparing for me to rip his arm off.

I slowly reached out my hand and took his, it was rough and callused. "It's a pleasure to meet you." Sam attempted with formalities. All I did was stare into his eyes, nodding my head hesitantly. I didn't know what to say to him, I was afraid to say anything at all.

"She's got the same staring problem as you." Sam leaned over and whispered to Bucky. Bucky gave Sam a flick on the forehead with his metal fingers, causing Sam to hiss in pain.

Bucky grabbed my shoulders and gestured for us to head out the door. We followed Sam down a series of hallways until we got to a door, it looked like another interrogation room except a computer was set up on an empty table.

"Now I'm not as good with this deep dark web stuff, but I found a something. There was an underground auction of recovered Hydra weapons and artifacts. It says here that the most expensive item was a female soldier in a Cryostasis chamber sold for over 100 million dollars." Sam explained as he walked back behind the computer and sat down at the chair.

"Let me see that." I demanded, walking over to where Sam sat. My sudden burst of confidence came from my curiosity about myself. I looked at the computer and was slightly taken back. This machine proved I was out of place. It was much smaller, but looked more complicated than the ones I had used previously.

I looked closer at the article, leaning in over sam's shoulder. I could see him slightly recoil from me, watching me out of the corner of his eye. We made eye contact for a second and I playfully lunged at him like I was going to attack. He jumped so hard he nearly fell out of his chair.

It made me chuckle, and I looked up at Bucky who was also holding back laughter through a smile. I turned my focus back to the screen and looked at the article. There was a picture of my chamber right there on the front. I didn't know what to say, I was still having trouble wrapping my head around how much time had passed.

"When am I going to stop being bought and sold?" I grumbled under my breath as I stood up straight.

"Look," Sam started "I still don't understand why she attacked you if she's immune to brainwashing."

"I attacked you?" I felt my heart drop and my gut full with guilt. I looked Bucky in the eyes and he looked back at me with the same sadness as he nodded.

"You did. You were trying to kill me." He explained.

"But I would never do that." I defended myself.

"I know." Bucky confirmed. "You were not yourself. You were speaking Russian."

I twisted my face in disgust. "Ew."

"I know."

"Okay!" Sam exclaimed. "We get it you two know each other very well. It's weird."

Bucky and I exchanged glances before turning our attention back to Sam who continued with his thought. "Somebody out there had you, and turned you into a mindless killing machine. And you have no memory of when you were under. So we need to figure out what's going on in that head of yours."

Sam was directly talking to me but also passively Bucky as he spoke. I looked at the two of them with my eyes wide. I didn't know what to do or say. I was still having a hard time wrapping my head around being awake. I was anxious to see the outside world and how much it had changed. Dreading it actually.

"We could take her to Wakanda." Bucky suggested.

"Wakanda?" Sam asked.

"Yes. They helped me there they can definitely help her."

The pair looked in my direction expectingly. I put my hands up in surrender. "Don't look at me I don't even know what a Wakanda is."

Bucky chuckled and shook his head. He held out his hand for me to take and join him. "Come on. I'll make some calls. Sam, could we stay at your place tonight?"

Sam raised an eyebrow at the two of us and then pointed an accusing finger at me. "No going crazy and killing people."

"No promises." I retorted without thinking. I felt a little bad, I didn't mean for it to come out like that. A low chuckle rose from Bucky's throat as Sam rolled his eyes and stormed out the door.

"He's a ray of sunshine." I commented.

"He's not all bad." Bucky shrugged and then turned his body to face me. He took a long time to look at my face, observing my features. My cheeks got flaming hot under his blue gaze.

"You're as beautiful as the day I lost you." Bucky said, almost in a whisper. It made me warm inside, a wide smile rising to my face.

"I still can't believe you're here." It was true, when I went under I was expecting to wake up still in Hydra.

"Me? I can't believe you're here!" Bucky exclaimed. "You don't know how many years went by I wished I could have had you with me."

I couldn't resist anymore, I pulled Bucky into a hug which he quickly returned to me. I wrapped my arms around his neck and his rested tightly around my waist. I let out a breathy sigh while taking in the familiar comfort.

Bucky was the first to pull away, which made me sad. I could have stayed like that for another 60 years. "Come on. Let's get going. Sarah is an amazing cook, you're going to love it."

"Who's Sarah? His wife?" I asked while Bucky threw his arm over my shoulder and guided us down the hallway. Bucky let out a deep belly laugh and shook his head.

"Sister actually, but I'm telling him you said that."

Next Chapter

This story will not align with the recent release of Wakanda Forever. T'challa will still be alive because I miss him.