Hey, Im Not Sure If Its Just On My End But On Your Story What To Expect The Links For Chapter 2 And Chapter

Hey, I’m not sure if it’s just on my end but on your story “what to expect” the links for chapter 2 and chapter 3 are mixed up with each other. Just thought I should let you know.

Omg thank you so much for letting me know! I’ll fix it!! ❤️

i fr fr can’t put it into words over how excited i get when i find black writers that write about black women with my fave lil yt boys. knowing that i’m not the only black girl crushing on this man (wtv man im in the mood for lmao) makes me so giddy.

like babe,, i don’t want to read “hearing him say those sweet-nothings turned my milky-tone skin into a deep red as i easily ran my fingers through my hair.” NO MAAM

i’m down for them learning how to do our hair and taking care of it, getting skincare products that works for us and is meant for us, the “his pale hand rested against my deep-brown thigh” line. baby i LIVE for that shit 🫶🏽🫶🏽🫶🏽🫶🏽

The Happenings In the Art of Starting Over

Summary:

series masterlist

James Buchanan Barnes is a broken man who is whisked away to the remote and serene land of Wakanda. His colleagues begin to believe if there is anyone who could try and help him it will be Irene. And try she will. But healing Bucky won't come easy, he is stubborn and scared and wants nothing to do with Irene and her powers. Helping Bucky will be a journey of trials and tribulations, Irene knows that. And yet, she still saunters over to him with a smile

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Black!Mutant! OC

Word Count:

I do NOT give permission for my work to be reuploaded, translated, or reposted on any other site. My work is my own.

CHAPTER THREE

The clappering pace of Tony's Tom Ford shoes against the tile gave Irene more anxiety than the nauseating mixture of bleach smells and the daunting blue walls that surrounded her. Tony had been running his hands through his hair and messaging his temples for the past ten minutes not speaking to Irene.

She had returned to the compound, blood all over her and still soaking wet. Immediately she was taken in by medics and Tony wasn't too far behind them. Now she sat in a hospital bed, twiddling her thumbs waiting for Tony to say something—anything to kill this anticipation boiling in her stomach.

"You know.' Tony finally spoke, Irene's eyes immediately glued to his. "I could kill cap for this, punch em' in his perfect teeth." Tony pulled a stool beside Irene's bed, taking a seat.

"You don't mean that." She said, holding Tony's hand.

"Oh, I do. He kidnapped you, put you in a room with that psychopath—,"

Irene interjected. "He's not that bad. He's just scared."

"How would you know? He's a criminal, Irene." Tony argued.

"Because I went inside his head." Irene told the truth, clenching her eyes shut.

"You fucking did what?" Tony's question came off more as a shout.

"It wasn't on purpose." She winced, holding her side.

"But that was!" Tony pointed to Irene's visible neck bruise. "He hurt you, Irene. And if I would have lost you kid." Tony sighed, his eyes misting over.

"I know.' Irene pulled Tony's head towards hers, gently connecting their foreheads. "It was an accident." She whispered, her voice reassurance for Tony.

"I don't want you near em', any of em'.' Tony shook his head. "Not cap, not bird suit, and especially not Barnes."

Irene sighed, pulling her forehead from Tony's. She knew he was right. There was a war coming, and she wanted nothing to do with it. After all, she couldn't fight her family. But even as she laid in this hospital bed, drugged up and all. She still saw flashes of his face. He was cold and broken—his face looked barren of light.

She had never been in a more empty and numb mind. It pained her, then Steve saying she had pulled him back and had cracked Hydras code. It was beginning to seem she was the only person who could do it.

Irene slowly leaned back onto the pillow behind her.  "I think I stopped him." She whispered, a lone tear spilling sideways out of her eye.

"What?" Tony asked.

"I barely know my power, not like I thought I did.' She sniffled. "When he choked me, Tony I let go of everything. And suddenly I was in a different plane, it was his mind. And I thought the crevices of his subconscious was the scariest part, turns out the scariest part is that the real Bucky Barnes is trapped there, buried beneath years of mind control and manipulation." She explained.

"No, don't do that.' Tony shook his head. "That empathetic crap."

"It's not crap! He's hurting Tony, he was like a wounded deer in there! You have no idea how that feels to experience someone's else's mind like that!" Irene shouted through her tears.

"And what does that have to do with you, Irene?' He grew angrier. "Huh?"

"Everything—nothing, fuck! I don't know!" Irene burst into tears, cradling her face in her hands. "I just want us all to be a family again." She cried.

Tony kneeled besides her, he shouldn't have yelled. He knew how Irene felt about this family, as she called it. She cherished all of these people more than herself sometimes. His heartaches and he now felt bad for pressing her on what she had endured. He hated to admit it to himself, but he knew her well enough to know. She had already gained sympathy for the devil.

"I'm sorry kid, okay?' He rubbed her hand. "I shouldn't have yelled."

A cough erupted from behind them both. Natasha stood underneath the frame of the door, looking between Tony and Irene.

"We need you." She nodded at Tony.

"I'll come back later." Tony sighed, talking to Irene who had rolled over on her side.

Irene didn't speak, she sniffled as Tony's boots clambered out of the room. She tucked her pillow into her side, squeezing it tight. She hated conflicting feelings, and she could feel them beginning to bubble in her stomach. She wanted desperately for them to stop and go away.

Irene suddenly winced in pain, holding her cheek in her palm. She sat up, her eyes flashing purple at Natasha.

"Why did you do that?" She growled.

"Here." Natasha shook the paper in her hand, urging Irene to take it.

"What is this?" Irene asked, taking the paper within her hands.

"It's from Steve." Natasha said.

"What does he want?" She held the letter, staring down at his penmanship.

"I think the better question is, what do you want?" Natasha turns around, swiftly leaving the room.

She stuck the letter underneath her pillow, burrowing further into the rough hospital blanket. She made her choice, but then again, she had also made the choice to be a hero. And she couldn't be a true hero if she didn't help the people—no matter how bloody their past.

Irene bit the inside of her lip, pulling the letter from underneath her pillow. She tore it open, her eyes scanning back and forth against Steve's words. He was convincing, she'll give him that. She groaned throwing herself back onto her pillows. Maybe she should have read all the pages of the accord and not just the first ten.

Visions brain was incompressible. He never failed to make an understanding of things from what seemed a logical place. But the truth was vision was practically a new born, but with a very old soul and an IQ that was simply unmeasurable. Irene could see how someone as emotional as Wanda could fall in love with him. The mixture of purity and intellectualism was indeed alluring.

Vision sat besides Irene, the two of them using subtle thrust of momentum to push themselves on the hammock they both occupied. Vision gave Irene a small smile and she gave him one back. Both their eyes immediately returning to the green grass full of little sprouting flowers, along with the sunlight that shined on the pound in front of them, it was nearly blinding but yet so beautiful.

Initially she had come to ask about Wanda, her best friend who was too prideful to come see her. Only sending her condolences for Irene's injuries through her passionate lover. It crushed Irene, she loved Wanda so much. She truly thought they were only having a spat, and she was very much so over it. Turns out Wanda didn't feel the same.

"Irene." Visions delicate voice broke through the sounds of nature.

"Hm?" Irene asked, basking in the sunlight, a tiny breeze flowing through her hair.

"I get the sense that you're in a bit of a bind.' He spoke with his hands. "Between your loyalties to Mr. Stark and the avengers as well as the people of this planet."

"I'm that frantic up there, huh?" Irene chuckled pointing to her head.

"A bit, yes." Vision laughed. "But the way I see it, couldn't both be true?"

Irene tilted her head, moving closer to Vision, giving him to gist to continue on with his claims.

"Couldn't it be true that you could help Mr. Barnes as Mr. Rogers has inquired about, while also remaining loyal to Mr. Stark and the accords." He stated.

"But Vision, that's impossible." Irene stood.

Vision rubbed his chin which was a plated piece of silver vibranium. "Yes I see.' He nodded. "I've never felt the need to put myself first Miss Watson, because for the longest time I wasn't a self, I was nearly a mind without a body. But you are a self, you've always been. So doesn't it stand to reason that you should do what best for yourself. No matter if it's changed in such a wavering moment."

Irene stood awestruck by vision. He was truly amazing, saying everything so logically but yet bound by empathy. This was the reason that immediately after his birth, he quickly became one of her favorite family members.

"Whatever you're feeling inside, I believe that is your truest path you should embark on.' Vision continued. "I believe none of it has to do with your loyalties to anyone, but to your loyalties with yourself and doing what is right."

"But what is right?" Irene sighed, smoothing her white dress behind her legs and crouching down onto the grass.

"Some wrongs are right to others. Some rights are wrong to another.' Vision stood from the hammock, the release of weight making it float in the wind like a ghost. "It's all about finding what's right for you."  He walked away, leaving Irene with that.

Irene leaned her head back, cradling her knees before the dam burst. She was sobbing again. As much as she loved Tony and this home they had built together; she couldn't regret the decision to leave home. It was partially her powers own fault.

When she enters the mind of someone they leave something with her, rather good or bad she can't shake the feeling—the connection. And with Bucky Barnes it was no different.

She felt deeply troubled by what she saw, so connected to his subconscious that she couldn't sleep at night. She couldn't walk this earth knowing his mind was fragmented like that. Especially when she could possibly help put it back together.

So, she left. Fighting tirelessly against every fiber that told her to stay. She just hoped Tony didn't love her any less. Because if it was him sitting in that dark and cold room as he had been once before, she would do anything to pull him back.

Irene stepped off the jet, placing her bags beside her body. The blood orange and yellow skyline looked hazy from heat that engulfed her. The jets fans close proximity made her sway like the tall grass ahead of her. She was certainly far from home now.

She turned her head, seeing Steve and T'challa, who'd she had briefly met walking side by side. She smiled somberly in their direction, they waved her over. She pulled her luggage handles up and walked towards them, her heels clicking against the cement as she approached their stalled positions.

Steve immediately pulled Irene in for a hug. The two embraced for a moment, before Steve whispered onto her hairline.

"I'm sorry to make you do this, Irene.' He said, with soft blue eyes. "I know how much Tony means to you,  how much we all mean to you."

"Thanks Steve, that means a-lot." Irene smiled, wiping her eyes.

"I also thank you, the decision you've made was a tough one Miss Watson. Nevertheless brave.' T'challa spoke, nudging towards the mammoth palace that sat behind them. "Allow me to show you to your quarters, there is lot to learn about Mr. Barnes condition before the feast tonight."

"Feast?" Irene asked, as Steve and T'challa both took a piece of her luggage walking on either side of her.

"A thank you from my mother and I.' He smiled. "It'll be like nothing you've ever tasted."

"I hope so,' Irene smiled, gently patting her soft stomach. "Because I'm starved."

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Hi! I’m working on the next part to ‘what to expect when you’re not expecting.’ It’s just challenging me a little more creatively than I thought!

@buckybarnes @klausmikaelson @deanwinchester

girls when they see the most stressed out, anxious, pent up man riddled with grief: i need him