What To Expect When You're Not Expecting (5)

What To Expect When You're Not Expecting (5)

Chris Evans x Black (pregnant) Female Reader

Summary: It's no secret that Chris wants to be a daddy. He's said it in many different interviews and blogs before. He just never expected the mother of his child to be someone he didn't know, let alone fuck.

Warnings: 18+ angst, mentions of alcohol abuse and cheating/ malpractice, talk of abortions!, TALK OF SU*C*DE, TALK OF DMV! BE WARNED!

Note: Thank you for all the love so far! It means the world!

Edit: To my surprise, many of you like this and asked me to continue, here's the fourth part and a tag list to join! I'm trying to start my blog up so this really helps!

Series Masterlist

divider by: @firefly-graphics

Right me an ask to join the taglist!

(The reader is nearing five months pregnant, it’s giving WandaVision speed lmao. Chris is a proud PAPAya)

You hadn’t spoken to Chris in a week, and it was another week he couldn’t see his child grow. It wasn’t like he was off in another state filming a movie. In fact, he was here in Boston filming Defending Jacob, so he had nothing but opportunities to see you and the baby. But you hadn’t wanted that, ignoring his calls and text. He knew he messed up asking your such personal questions. But he just wanted to help if he could.

So now on his day off work, he found himself walking up to your apartment with a bouquet of flowers and a pack of ginger ale. He truly hoped you would accept his peace offering—he also hoped your love for ginger ale wasn’t conditional to your pregnancy.

Chris adjusted his hoodie and hat, coughing before he knocked on your apartment door. From the other side he heard stampering, and before he knew it the door flew wide open and so did his eyes. The girl before him looked just like you, only shorter and not pregnant. His eyebrow rose as she chewed on a Twix bar, pulling at the carmel that fell from the bar while she stared him down.

“You gonna say anything, or do you just stare?” She burped causing Chris’s face to scrunch up.

“Um?” He coughed, peaking at the apartment doors number, yup still 338. “Am I at the right apartment?”

“You’re at the right place.’ She looked Chris up and down. “Y/n just taking her thirtieth bathroom break of the day.” She turned, walking away leaving the door wide open.

“Are you going to come in, or are you just going to stand there like a pedophile?” She wandered into the kitchen.

Unsure, Chris stepped inside, closing the heavy wooden door behind himself. “And you are?” He asked, following behind the girl. He watched as she pounced onto the counter, digging into a pint of moose tracks ice cream.

She laughed, kicking her legs. “I’m, Sarah. Y/n’s younger sister. Who are you?” She pointed at him with her spoon.

Chris opened his mouth to speak, but Sarah beat him to the chase. “Wait. Don’t tell me,’ she laughed, rubbing her chin. “You’re the baby daddy, Chris Evans. My roommates fucking obsessed with you.”

“Well, thanks.’ He chuckled awkwardly, placing the flowers down on the counter.

“Want some?” Sarah held her a spoonful of ice cream out in front of Chris’s mouth.

“I’m good.” Chris quickly declined.

“Your loss.” She jumped of the counter. “Y/N, GET OUT HERE—YOUR BABY DADDY IS HERE!” She shouted down the small hallway of your apartment.

Y/n stepped out of the bathroom, here brown eyes glaring at Chris’s blue ones as she emerged from the darkness of the hallway. Although he hadn’t known her long, her eyes always conveyed so much. And right now, they told him to get the hell out of her house. Which was nice by the way.

It was small and cozy, a blend of modern and almost Victorian style furniture with nice hints of pastels and neutrals blending together. A candles wick flickered in the background making the apartments living space smell immaculately . Chris was almost jealous of this place.

“What do you want?” You stuck your nose in the air, slouching back on her sofa.

Chris sighed, grabbing the flowers and walking around to your sofa. He took a seat behind you, placing the flowers on your dark brown coffee table.

“I wanted to say I’m sorry for prying, it wasn’t fair for me to drop those questions on you. Especially without your permission.” He said softly.

“Yeah, apologize as you should.” Sarah leaned over the top of the sofa, staring Chris down. “Digging into our personal shit like you’re Derek Morgan from Criminal Minds. Have several seats, Captain Underpants.” She rolled her eyes.

“Sarah,” you popped your little sisters lip. “Go away.”

Sarah smacked your hand back in retaliation, and you could have sworn you hear Chris stifle out a laugh. You glared at them both.

“Go away.” You growled at her, watching her step into the kitchen. “Further.” You pointed in the direction of her bedroom.

“Sorry.” You rubbed your eyes finally addressing Chris. “What did you want again.” You yawned, snuggling into your heated blanket more.

Chris smiled, looking at your ever growing belly, glowing skin, and messy hair. He liked that you were still intact with the child in you, some of your hair strands being dyed pink. Even with this ordeal and everything you’d been through, you still had an innocence about yourself, and that was more than he could say for others he had met.

“Right.” Chris emerged from the trance you seemed to put him in. “I just wanted to give you these and apologize.” He pointed toward the flowers.

“I hate the smell of flowers.” You blurted. Chris sat dumbfounded, what kind of girl hated the smell of flowers.

“Oh.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,’ you got up and headed to the kitchen with your flowers in hand. “I guess they’ll make a cute center piece, until they die.” You plucked away at one of the red rose petals.

“Right.” Chris frowned, not sure how to take your response. He was walking on egg shells here.

“I accept your apology, by the way.” You flicked on the kitchen sink, pouring water into a clear purple vase.

“Really?” Chris beamed.

“Yeah,’ you trimmed the ends of the flowers, tossing them in the vase. “I guess you should know about how fucked up your child’s grandfather is, right?” You said. “How he almost killed me and the rest of my family.”

Chris’s heart pained hearing that. The thought that you could have been killed as a young girl, struck him deeply. How could someone who said he loved you do such horrid things.

“I’m really sorry about that, Y/n.” Chris grabbed your shoulder giving it a light squeeze.

“If you’re so sorry.’ Sarah’s head popped around the corner, followed by the rest of her body. “Cook us some dinner, I’m starved.”

You laughed, feeling your own belly rumble. “It’s only fair.” You shrugged.

“And we want pasta.” Sarah demanded.

Chris could tell the two of you were nothing alike. He shook his head, finally giving in to cooking for the two of you. Not that he had any other plans.

“Fine.” He smiled. “But I only know how to make Alfredo.”

—

Chris had been cooking for around thirty minutes, and you’d been staring at his back for the better half of it. And boy did he have a great back, but that wasn’t what most of your thoughts were consumed by. It was mostly consumed by the fact that he never rejected you, not even for a split second. You went through a denial phase of the pregnancy, wanting to end it all. But Chris never seemed to want that.

“Chris.” You spoke up.

He turned around looking at you, almost signaling for you to speak.

“Why do you want this baby so bad?” You bite into a banana.

Chris stopped stirring the Alfredo sauce. Putting the wooden spoon you had provided down. “Why do you ask?”

“What, i can’t ask thought provoking questions too?” You walked around the counter, standing directly in front of him now. “Why did you want this.” You pointed at the bump.

Chris shrugged. “I don’t know, I’ve always wanted a family.”

“No, there’s more to that story. Everyone wants a family, a village to come home to.” You explained.

“Well maybe that’s just it.” Chris turned around, throwing a kitchen towel over his shoulder. “Maybe I’m tired of coming home to an empty house, it’s been just me and dodger for the pass five years. Maybe I want more, Y/n.”

You sighed, and there it was. He was lonely. “I get that. Thank you for being honest.” You smiled.

“You’re welcome.” He smiled, turing back to the sauce.

“So you think this baby will be enough for you?” You asked.

“I know it will, and so will you.” He said back.

Your heart fluttered at that sentiment, you think you were staring to love your accidental family just a little bit more each and every day—and that included Chris.

—

Chris’s dinner was, interesting, to say the least. It wasn’t bad, but it was stellar either. Not that you were going to tell him that. But Sarah on the other hand. She had a mouth for anyone and anything.

“Did you season this?” She asked with a perplexed face

“Yes? Is it not to your standard, Queen Sarah.” Chris sassed her back.

Sarah scoffed. “Don’t get smart.” She frowned at him.

He put his hands up in defense, wiping the corners of his mouth. “Y/n? Your thoughts?”

You looked up, playing with the noodles. “Um, it’s cute.” You said quietly, hearing Sarah burst into a fit of giggles.

“Cute?” He said, narrowing his blue eyes.

“I mean,’ you stammered over your words. “Never mind, it’s great.” You lied to him, watching his face soften.

“Well, thank you,’ he coughed. “I actually have something to ask you.” He said.

“That’s funny,” Sarah interjected. “I was gonna ask you something to.”

Chris subtly rolled his eyes. “What is, Sarah?”

She smirked. “What’s it like to be famous? And what made you want to honker down and have this baby with my fabulous sister?”

“Being famous isn’t what everyone thinks. It’s not all glitz and glamour, it’s hard work too.”

“I bet.” She took a sip of her drink. “And my sister?” She nudged you.

Chris looked at you and then the baby, a glimmer of something you couldn’t explain was in his eyes. “I just—I don’t know I feel comfortable around your sister, and I’m in a position where I can take care of both of them. Relationship or not, I guess.” He mumbled.

“It’s not conventional,’ you gave his hand a pat. “But it’ll work.” You smiled.

“Aw, how cute!” Sarah said sarcastically. “So you know Sebastian?” She immediately changed the subject.

You giggled, spitting out your ginger ale a bit. “Stop.”

“No, don’t do that!’ Sarah laughed. “You should have seen what she was saying about him.” She told Chris

“You know Sebastian?” Chris grabbed his glass confused.

“No, I don’t. But after I found out who you were I kind of went on a stalking binge with Sarah on the phone, we found Sebastian. And I don’t know, he’s cute.” You smiled, before taking another sip.

alright, Chris didn’t know if he should be jealous. According to everyone he was just your baby daddy. But something about the woman carrying his baby finding his best friend ‘cute’ bothered him, badly.

“Hm, yeah well Sebastian’s a sweetheart.” He grumbled, rolling his eyes.

“Maybe he can be your next celebrity baby daddy, Y/n.” Now it was Chris’s turn to spit of his drink.

“Sorry.” Chris said as everyone’s eyes were on him, he wiped himself off with a napkin avoiding the girls eyes.

“You good bro?” Sarah asked, ripping off another piece of paper towel and passing it to him.

“Yeah.’ He coughed once more. “I’m fine.”

“But y/n,’ Chris carried on. “I was thinking we should plan for a baby shower.”

“Oh,’ y/n gasped.

“I mean if that okay with you?” He added.

“Yeah, it’s great. It’s just, I don’t have much family to bring. It’ll just be Sarah and Vada.” You told him.

“That’s ok.’ He smiled. “My family has been dying to you meet you.”

“Okay.“ you nodded.

“Good. When should we start planning?” Chris asked, pulling out his calendar.

“Are you opening your calendar?” Sarah laughed.

“Sarah, stop he’s busy. And next week should be fine, Chris.”

“Hopefully not too busy for the baby.” She grumbled underneath her breath, Chris hears her and glares.

“Never too busy.” He replied with a different look for both girls. “Next week is perfect Y/n.”

TagList: *send and ask to be added*

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@literaturelove@affectionateslutsworld

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."

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 SIX

Irene's first time inside winter wasn't as harrowing as she assumed. Her body floated against the still-warm water, she was in REM. Her eyes moved back and forth in a perfect symphony as she surfed through the waves of Bucky's mind, desperate to find him.

"Okay, Irene.' She heard Aamani's voice, though it wasn't clear. "Go find Sergeant Barnes's subconscious self, and try to administer January." She instructed.

"Right." Irene looked around at her surroundings. His mind had shifted, it was different this time.

A row of tumbled burgundy brick apartments lined up perfectly against a narrow cement street had replaced the dark aquatic adventure she assumed she'd return to. The honking of taxi's told her she was in Brooklyn, along with Bucky's files that she had stolen and studied the previous night.

The clicking of pink wedge heels and the wind that caught underneath girls button downed dresses. The language of 'doll' and 'dame'. She had to be submerged into the heart of 1940's New York.

"I think I'm in,' Irene began but was shortly interrupted.

"New York." Aadon injected. "There aren't many buildings with doors."

"I see one at the end of this block, should I try it?" Irene asked, watching the buildings flashing lights dance.

"Go for it." Aadon encouraged Irene.

"What the hell!" Aamani screamed.

"What!" Irene stopped, clutching at her pounding heart.

"Your outfit! Look at your fucking outfit, Irene!" Aamani continued to scream.

Irene looked down at her feet that were once barren, now they dawned white wedged heels, rounded at the tip. Her lashes battered intensely as she twirled towards an abandoned glass display window, wind catching under something she couldn't quite place.

"Oh.' Irene ran her hands along her ruby red polyester sleeves. "Oh!" She gasped.

Irene now sported a ruby red knee length dress. It's sweet heart neckline and belt formed her assets beautifully. Her hair was no longer in its natural state, but instead pined back in buoyant voluminous curls. It all felt so real, like reality had shifted around her.

"I think you're changing to fit with the setting of his mind." Aamani spoke. "So you'll blend in."

"Then why didn't I have a swimsuit last time?" Irene whispered while nodding at the entertainment girls as she walked inside the building.

"That I do not know. But since this is the only building with a door, he must be in there." Aamani said, watching the monitors intently.

Irene smiled at the man with a mustache in front of her, he shoved a black and white flyer into her hand. The with the words "Harry's House' in bold black letters.

"He would be in Harry's House?" Irene asked, watching the flyer disappear in her grasp. "It wasn't real anyways." She sighed to herself.

"Apparently it's a place him and Captain Rogers use to frequent.' Aadon said, sipping on a can of pop.

"Is he still sleeping?" Irene asked.

Aadon turned around, his desk chair creaking, a devilish grin spreading on his face. "Like a baby."

"Okay, well good,' Irene clutched her fictitious purse. "Because I have eyes."

"Holy shit." Aamani leaned into the monitor, stealing a sip of Aadon's pop. "He looks, kind of hot."

"Happiness looks good on the best of us, Aamani." Irene sighed, lifting the hem of her skirt up as she pushed through the crowd. "How do I approach him?"

"How did you approach him last time?" Aadon asked, snatching his drink back from his older sister.

"Slowly."

"Bingo."

Irene swallowed hard, ambling towards him. His white smile was on display as he laughed aloud with a few stunning woman hugged into either side of him. He had a bottle of beer tilted onto his lips, sipping slow. And before she knew it, she was in front of him. Staring in complete suspended animation.

Bucky's eyes titled from the tip of his beer, to Irene. She could have sworn she heard a sigh escape from his lips. He slammed the bottle down, the bottom of it lead a crackling trail up to the the neck of the beer. Irene's eyes went wide, as she watched him wipe his lips off with the sleeve of his tan uniform, tipping his hat onto his head.

"And this,' his voice seemed lighter than last time. "Is my best friends Steve's eavesdropping friend, Irene. Who just can't let it go." He laughed, a hint of anger underneath his tone.

"Sergeant Barnes's, maybe we should go somewhere private." Irene whispered, suddenly becoming self conscious with all eyes on her.

"Or maybe.' Bucky pushed himself off from the bar top. The girls who once surrounded him disappearing into thin air. "You should just leave."

"Why?' Irene backed up as he slowly sauntered towards her. "I'm here to help you." She held her hand out.

"Because I said so." Bucky's voice was deep and intimidating.

"Look." Irene pulled out the canister of purple gas, known as January. "This will help you."

"Irene don't show him that!" Aadon shouted into his microphone.

Bucky laughed, clutching his side. "Do you really think it'll be that easy! Do you know what they've done to me!" He shouted, tossing a chair to the side. Irene gasped watching it break as it collided with the wall. "You need to leave."

"Irene, put it away, we will try again another time." Aamani whispered.

"No!" Irene shouted, not sure who she was speaking to in this moment.

"Fine.' Bucky said, his flesh arm morphing into metal, the red star on his shoulder was bolder than anything she'd ever seen. "I'll just make you."

"Bucky, please stop!" She yelled, turning on her heels and running from him.

On the outside, Irene's body began to convulse. She was no longer in control as she had once thought, the water slouching around her and spilling onto the floor. Aadon and Aamani hopped out of their chairs, rushing to her side.

"Bucky!" Irene rasped, it seemed his favorite way to hurt her was with his hand around her neck.

"Never come back here, it's too dangerous." His eyes misted over with a combination of anger and pain.

Then after he spoke, Bucky slammed Irene's body through the floorboards of Harry's House. Sending her tumbling into a black abyss. Irene screamed as she fell down further and further.

Her body finally stopped, landing in something squishy and sticky. Her dress had disappeared and she was back to wearing her white body suit.

"What the hell! No, not again!" She screamed, lifting her arm that was covered in slime. "Aamani, Aadon!" She gagged at the revolting smell which burned her nostrils.

"They're not here.' A malevolent voice teased Irene as it laughed.

"Who are you?" Irene wept, struggling against the binds she was in. They were stuck onto her skin like suction cups, to her dismay they were tentacles.

"Who I am isn't a matter of your concern, Irene Watson." the voice jabbered on, it's tentacles grabbing Irene by her waist and lifting her up.

"The matter is, why do you feel you can save the winter solider? My creation!" The voice was so close to her she could feel the heat of its breath against the nape of her neck.

Irene squirmed within its grasp. Wheezing for air as it only squeezed her tighter, slithering up to her neck. She clinched her eyes close, rasping out one last remark.

"Because—it's the right thing,' she coughed, scratching at the tentacle wrapped on her neck. "To do!" She hollered, feeling herself being pulled far away from the voice.

In the lab, Irene laid on then floor convulsing like a fish out of water. Her nose bleeding profusely, dripping down her chin. Frantically, Aadon picked up Irene's body placing her onto a lab table trying to steady her body.

"Her vitals are off the chart!" Aamani shouted, running with a syringe in her hand.

"I didn't think it would be like this for her!" Aadon grunted, fighting against Irene's shaking body.

"It's her telepathy, she's very strong.' Aamani explained. "Hold her steady!"

"I'm trying!" Aadon began to sweat, retraining her body as Irene began to cry out.

Aamani climbed on top on the lab table, straddling Irene and hold her legs steady between her thighs. She held the syringe above her head and plunged in into Irene's chest.

Instantly, Irene stopped shaking and her brown eyes shot open as she drew in a series of excruciating breaths. She began to cough up blood and shoved Aamani off her. Irene screamed as she collapsed onto the cold lab floor, snatching the wires off of herself.

Irene limped and pushed passed Aadon and Aamani who shouted after her. Feeling a surge of anger while crying uncontrollably, Irene released a swoosh of purple energy from her fingertips, pushing it against Bucky's chest.

"Wake up!" She shouted, watching him slowly stir awake. But it wasn't fast enough for her, so she did it again. Hitting Bucky with another swoosh of energy, causing him to groan as sweat dripped down his forehead.

"Do you really think it's funny!' Irene cried out, wincing at the pain she felt in her side.

"Do I think what's funny?" He grumbled, barely facing her.

"Trying to kill me!' Irene shouted. "I'm only trying to help you!"

"I told you to stay out of my head, you're psychotic!" He shouted back, trying to move within his restraints.

Irene scoffed, sweat dribbling down her body as her side pulsed in pain. "I'm psy—psychotic!" Irene's breath stirred. "You—you're,' she swallowed hard, stumbling over her words along with her feet.

Irene pressed her fingers into her temples and yelped in pain as she crashed to the floor on her knees. Blood began to pour from the corners of her eyes as she screamed out in uncontrollably pain.

"Irene!" Aamani shouted.

Irene felt her head crash onto the floor, the last thing her bloody eyes saw were those boots. If this was how she was meant to die at least it would be a noble end. Helping a man who couldn't see the worth in being rescued. That ought to count for something in the afterlife.

BIG FAT FACTS! Your shit says x reader! Yet it’s always worded and described as a very particular type of person or people, just keep it real with your writting TF! That goes for gender neutral too!

The way so many writers claim to be "inclusive" and even go as far as to insert something in text for you to insert you chosen nipple color 😶 and complexion then in the very next paragraph say something like "his favorite color to see you in was pale nude because it matched and blended in with your skin color."

Ummmmmm...

You're not fooling anyone. We know who you had in mind and who you wrote for. 🙄 You only claim inclusivity to draw people in. 😩

It is not hard to be inclusive people, it is actually easier to be inclusive in writing than adding particular descriptors. If you're not comfortable then you should take the opportunity to educate yourselves, something that is also not hard. Information is everywhere in this 2022nd year of our lord or antichrist if that's your thing 🤷🏾‍♀️, I don't judge.

I even saw a Wattpad how to for inclusive writing, and a very detailed WordPress blog post all about it.😲. Like come on now! Stop inclusive baiting only to disappoint, frustrate and annoy the reader and step it up to the bare minimum at least.

😫😫 This concludes my unexpected rant.

You don't like it scroll by.

You feel triggered then this applies to you, level up.

You have the same thoughts, love to see it!

You wanna go back and forth and fight over who is right, go ahead and catch this block and hold that L. I know I'm right. 🤷🏾‍♀️

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 FOUR

Irene had been in Wakanda from dusk til dawn, and she'd been exploring her quarters and the palace for the better half of it. From the walls to the duvet that spread across her wooden king bed. This room had been tailored to fit Irene. Steve must have given them a boat load of her interest.

There was a nook that sat in the corner of her room, top to bottom filled with all kinds of books. One section was dedicated to painting techniques, and others were memoirs from Charles Xavier—the world's greatest telepath. The entirety of the room was covered ceiling to floor with cooling tan wood so she'd never overheat.

Irene smiled, jumping onto her teal duvet, making snow angles with the comforter. Irene couldn't believe she had such an impeccable room along with a anticipated feast that was being prepared for her arrival tonight. It almost felt too much. But then again, she was never one to reject a free meal or two.

She picked up her luggage, dragging it behind her as she walked towards the large stained dresser. She look up at the doors that almost doubled her height. She pulled them open, the hinges creaked and specs of dust flurried around her. She unzipped her luggage, placing her clothing and shoes neatly inside the dresser.

She felt something wet touch her face , she swiped her fingertips over the apples of her cheeks. To her surprise the tears had come from her own eyes. And before she knew it, she was burying her face into the hoodie she and tony had won together when they went to Walt Disney world one day.

She had missed him already, and vision along with Wanda and Natasha. She promised Steve and T'challa she'd stay and see Bucky's treatment through. And they all didn't know how long that might take. For all she knew, she could be here for a year. And by then, there was no returning home.

"Miss Watson?" An unsure voice came into the room.

Irene quickly rubbed her eyes and nose dry, scrapping them a bit with the tough material of her jacket. "Yes." Her voice cracked.

"Is everything alright?" A younger girl with box braids approached her.

"Yes, yes.' Irene smiled, standing up. "I don't think we've met before." She stuck her hand out.

"I'm shuri, the younger and cooler sister of King T'challa." She smiled brightly, accepting Irene's hand for a shake.

"Ahh, I see why he's been hiding you. He doesn't want someone cooler than him just walking about the place." Irene giggled.

"Exactly." Shuri joined her laughter. "I came here beating gifts." She said, Irene focused on the white and teal  box she held.

"I guess everyone knows teal is my favorite color.' She took the box.

"For an old man, Captain Rogers has a big mouth." Shuri laughed. "I hope you like it."

Irene opened the box carefully, smiling as she pulled out the teal and silver colored hearing aids. Irene laughed. "Thank you, but i already have some." She pointed to her ears.

Shuri pulled Irene to her bed, sitting her down. "Try them, they're like nothing you've ever seen." She smiled. "I made them myself."

"Okay." Irene said softly, pulling her hearing aids from out of her ear. She gave Shuri a tight lipped smile, trying her best to ignore the ringing that swarmed her.

Hesitantly, she put the new hearing aids into her ears, wrapping the white straps around her earlobes. First putting them in she heard a whirring noise and then before she knew it Irene heard shuri's voice—clearly.

"How do you like them?" Shuri bit her lip, observing Irene's widened brown eyes.

"Oh my god.' She squealed, grabbing shuris shoulders. "I can hear you, like actually hear you!" Tears swelled in her eyes.

"Yes!" Shuri jumped up, brining Irene with her as they jumped about on the bed.

"How did you even do this?" Irene's breath was heavy from all the jumping.

"An artist never reveals their trades, Irene—you should know that." She smiled, climbing off the bed. "I'll leave it at technology."

"Vibranium?" Irene asked, jumping off the bed.

Shuri picked the white box off the floor, along with the glistening wrapping paper. "Something like that." She smirked. "Come, the feast should nearly be ready to be served." She nudged for Irene's hand.

Shuri stuck her hand out in front of her, and suddenly the rather large and heavy wooden doors engraved with the symbol of the black panther, swung open. Irene's eyes widened in bewilderment, as she and Shuri walked through the doors.

"How'd you do that?" Irene gasped

"My bracelet." Shuri signed to her.

Irene bolstered, as she hunched over holding her stomach.

"What? Did I not say it right?" Shuri asked Irene, awkwardly chuckling with her.

"No, well technically yes.' Irene said. "Don't worry, half the avengers had that problem too initially." She signed while speaking. "You'll learn that in ASL, everything is shortened and backward."

The two girls kept walking through the massive dining room area, people buzzing around them with cakes and dishes that smelled heavenly.

"So for example.' Irene signed. "If I was to say, I'm going to the store. In ASL I'd say, to the store I go." She explained.

Shuri nodded, rubbing her neck. "So what did I say to you then?"

"You said, the bracelet my—which isn't bad." She gently pushed Shuri with her hip. "I appreciate the effort, it means a lot when people learn to communicate with me."

"We wanted your stay to be as comfortable as possible, considering the circumstances." Shuri smiled, pulling out Irene's seat for her.

She smiled, taking a seat feeling Shuri push her in. "Thank you for that, and this." She looked around at the candle lit table, that was surrounded by six other chairs.

"No worries." Shuri sat besides her.

"Will, Bucky be joining us?" Irene asked, unrolling her silverware and placing the linen napkin on her lap.

"No, he's sleeping." Shuri said.

"Sleeping?' Irene laughed. "It's only seven pm."

"Like I said, Irene. There is much for you to learn about the project."

"Okay." Was all Irene could say as she began to dread what that meant exactly.

The feast had come to an end, and Irene was stuffed. She had never been engulfed by that many unique spice blends before. The Wakandans had surely out done themselves. And she was sure to thank the queen and her son for how gracious they'd been to her thus far.

The feast had also granted her the opportunity to meet with Aamani and Aadon. A brother and sister duo who not only created the machine, but were the heads of Project January. They were kind and explained they'd need to meet with her in the morning to take her vitals and test the machine, they called 'winter.'

Sadly, Steve announced this would be his last night. He didn't disclose the perimeters of his exit other than he had business to attend in the states. Irene was upset that a familiar face would be leaving, but she knew he couldn't babysit her forever. That it was her turn to go into the valley of the beast alone.

Shuri had decided she'd walk Irene back to her quarters. She and Irene were determined to get to know each other better while she worked on Project January.

"I won't lie to you, Irene tomorrow won't be easy,' Shuri told Irene. "Aamani and Aadon want to test winter on you if your vitals come back clear."

Irene clutched the door handle of her quarters. "What is winter, what is it really?" Irene trembled at the unknown.

Shuri placed a hand on Irene's shoulder, giving it a firm tap. "I think it's best the scientist who created it disclose that to you."

"Right." She rolled her eyes, pushing in through her door.

"And Irene," shuri's voice stopped her. "He will be awake tomorrow."

Irene just nodded, shutting the door behind herself. She knew Bucky was a complex case. But with this much secrecy, it must have been worse than she ever could have imagined.

The Happenings In the Art of Starting Over

Summary:

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 TWO

Irene preferred the cold. Perhaps that's why she enjoyed sleeping in a tank top, and training in a tank top. She at one point believed in her past lives she was some species of cold-blooded reptilian. Perhaps a gecko, as they too could change shades.

The last week had been horrific. Although she was locked in the compound, Irene hadn't spoken to Wanda. She knew her friend was furious she had signed the accords. Vision claimed Wanda felt discarded by Irene's decision.

But Irene just wanted her to see it from a different perspective. The consequences that came with their continuous freelanced heroism. Ross was right, they were practically vigilantes. And Irene just wanted to do what was best for them all.

But Alas, Wanda hadn't seen it that way, and she wasn't the only one. Of course Tony gloated about the compound knowing his precious Irene has taken his side—Natasha too.

But Irene couldn't ignore that Steve skipped out on their usual morning coffees as she taught him more sign language. Or how Sam slightly chuckled at her jokes now and didn't bellow out like he'd use too. She was observant, her family felt betrayed. But secretly, so did she.

Irene walked into the kitchen. With her presence, Steve and Sam's conversation ceased. She rolled her eyes, this act was getting old. If they had something to say, the could just say it.

"Don't stop on my account.' She spoke up, pulling the eggs from the refrigerator. "Not like I can hear you anyways." She pointed to hear ear lobes that were missing her hearing aids.

"Why don't you have them in.' Steve sat his coffee down, steam still rolling from the lip of the mug.

Irene shrugged, moving from the refrigerator to the seasoning cabinet. "Felt like painting them today." She closed the appliances.

"Isn't that dangerous." Sam said, as she continued to read their lips.

She shrugged once more. "Why do you care, you've barely spoken to me in a week."

Sam scoffed.

"That doesn't mean we don't care." Steve signed.

"I did what i thought was best, for us." Irene signed back, the room suddenly silent.

"So did I." Steve signed again, watching as Sam's eyes drew back and fourth between them.

"You're going to get arrested,' she said this time, letting loose a shaky breath free from her chest. "or worse."

"We will be fine.' Steve said. "It's you I worry about."

"Why?' She frowned. "I'm not the one turning myself into a vigilante and posing as a hero."

"That's how you see us?" Sam interjected.

"Right now, yes! You're being unreasonable and pretending it's an act of selflessness." She glared between them both.

"Irene, cut it out!' Steve shouted. "You wouldn't know selflessness if it fell right in front of you."

Irene stepped back from Steve as her eyes widened then narrowed. She slammed the egg carton down, forgoing her breakfast. Some days she despised being partially deaf. Today, was not one of those days. Because the last thing she wanted to do was hear what Sam Wilson and Steve Rogers had to say as she flounced away.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Irene knew Steve could be stubborn, he was an old man after all. But she never knew he could be so mean. What had she done to deserve being called selfish? Her actions weren't selfish, and even if they were, they were her choices. And she refused to let anyone take that away from her, again.

Irene wiped the teal paint off onto her pants, carefully dipping the paint brush into the acrylic paint. She hadn't had much to do these days, so she decided on a fun project for herself—a distraction she hoped.

She dipped one paint brush into a brownish red shade and painted small flowers over the teal she had coated her hearing aids in. She still remembers the day Tony gave these to her. The moment she had put them in, it had given her life a whole new meaning.

Tony couldn't cure her partial deafness. But with the hearing aids sounds became somewhat coherent, they were just muffled. Nevertheless she could hear what was important, and that's all that mattered.

Without them, an ill ringing noise pieced through the cabinet of her ears. But so many years with that sound, she'd just gotten use to it.

Irene smiled at her hearing aids, blowing on them to give them the extra push they needed to dry. She sat up and readjusted her posture, cringing as she heard her back bones crack. But as her back arched over the top of her desk chair, she saw Friday in the corner of her room flashing red.

She immediately stood up, looking at her door then looking back at Friday's flashing lights. Tony had told Irene why he'd installed the lights for her around this compound and others. And it only meant one thing—danger.

Quickly, Irene slipped on a pair on gym shoes and a sweater. Walking through her bedroom door her eyes widened in fear. Bands of people whisked past her face running away from the foreseen danger down the hall.

Irene watched the hysteria on the faces of those who ran by. She rolled up her sleeves in preparation of what she might face. But before she could round the corner a man was thrown into the glass behind her, shattering it. Splinters of the glass slicing into her calf.

She winced, bending down to assess the wounds. On the floor she was at eye level with a pair of black boots that slowly stalked over to where she was knelt down.

Her eyes slowly peeled up and was met face to face with a man. She'd seen this man before. Not only in Steve's head, but on the news. This man was the winter solider.

Irene was typically the avengers defense. Using her shapeshifting and psionic abilities to distract their enemies. She was not an offensive fighter, and from what she'd heard about the winter solider, she was screwed.

Irene quickly stood up, turning to make a run for it. But it seemed before she could even move, his hands were grappled around her waist. And in a split second she was thrusted above his head and tossed behind him, landing in a pile of glass. She cried out in pain, rolling in the glass as she cradled her side only making it worse.

She used her palm to push herself up from the ground. With slick thinking the outline of her body flashed purple, suddenly changing shades into Steve Rogers. She walked over to Bucky slowly.

"You know me, Buck." She held out her bloody hand, feeling confident in Steve's shape. "It's okay." Her voice was soft.

But that only seemed to anger him as his nostrils flared. He raised his metal arm slapping Irene in the face. She flew backwards, her body doing somersaults in the air until she made a painful landing onto a wooden table. It collapsing when she collided with it.

Steve's facade dissipated, her nose burned and bled. She had no time to react before Bucky's hand was around her neck, squeezing tightly. She clawed at his face, her eyes pouring with tears. Her legs dangled and flapped around like a fish out of water as he lifted her higher into the air.

She didn't know what came over her, rather it was the grace of her maker or just the fear she held inside at this moment. Irene let go, the veins that painted her body suddenly glowed purple along with her eyes.

A new energy emerging within her, she lifted her shaking hands and grasped them onto Bucky's temples almost ritualistically. His blue eyes widened at her warm touch, before his iris's matched the purple which coursed through Irene's body.

And as if she was heavier than a ton of bricks, Bucky dropped to floor along with Irene's body. The world around them settling into black.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Irene gasped, like a baby being born, like it was her first breath. She frantically touched her body. She was wet, and oh so cold. The kind of cold she didn't like. This chill frightened her—like winter.

Irene stood up, her bare feet sloshing around in a freezing pool of water that waded up to her knees. She could have swore she dawned shoes before this.

She shivered pulling her soaking sweater closer to herself as she marched through the water. Suddenly taking in an even stranger part of this harrowing territory. It was black, pitch black. The only source of light seemed to be the one that illuminated her frame and casted onto her like a shadow.

"Hello?" She yelled, the only response was her own.

"Hello!" She tried again, her voice rasping in horror as she trailed along.

"Somebody!" She ran, her legs burning as she pushed through the water. Her eyebrows bunched as the water picked up pace going from still water to a rapid current.

Irene yelped out, tripping and falling face front into the water. Then being pushed through the current. She paddled trying to keep up with the waves.

"Help me, Tony!" She choked on the water that only seemed to get deeper.

She struggled more against the waves, then suddenly her back slapped against a slab of ice. Tears poured down her face as the water drained away, almost as if someone had flushed it out. And now the chill had returned, making Irene tremble, but not from the cold.

She used the ice she had been pinned against to help pull herself up. Her legs wobbled as she was exhausted. She wanted this nightmare—this hell to end. But she would soon find out, it had only begun.

Irene screamed in fright. The cold object was a block of ice and within that a man stuck out, the man who had previously tried to kill her. And suddenly it dawned on her. She was physically inside the mind of the winter solider.

"No." She whispered to herself, falling to her knees.

"No.' Irene clenched her eyes closed, slapping her temple violently. "Snap out of it, Irene! Snap out of it!" She shouted.

But as she opened her eyes, to her gloom dismay she was still there. Still alone with Bucky's frozen body. She didn't know what to do, was this how she died? Or was she already dead and trapped here within his mind.

Irene fell to her knees, cradling herself in defeat. She had never physically brung herself into a mind before. She had only transferred thoughts, dreams and illusions—even nightmares. But this was a first, she felt completely powerless and out of control once more.

She allowed more tears to stream down her face as her throat closed up. And within a brisk moment, something cold, colder than anything she had already been surrounded by rolled onto her feet. It was a chunk of ice, she looked up as her eyes were blurred by the tears that welled in her eyes.

And before her was Bucky, coughing up water. Only he looked different, his body was frail and his hair was short. Irene got up onto her hands and knees, slowly crawling towards him. She didn't speak, she wouldn't be able to hear him without her hearing aids.

The closer she crawled towards him the further he crawled away. It was a game of cat and mouse until she finally opened her mouth.

"I won't hurt you." She said gently.

"Get away from me." His voice was hoarse and agitated.

Irene's eyes focused on his lips. "Please, I'm scared too. I only want to help you."

"There's nothing you can do!" He hollered, punching the remaining ice besides him.

She crawled closer to him. Kneeling before him, as he hide his face within his legs. Slowly, she steadied her hand and placed it onto him.

"I want to try something, if you'll let me." She asked, making sure her eyes were already on his lips as he looked up at her.

"What?" His eyes rimmed with tears, he was just as frightened as her.

"I'll show you." Irene grabbed his hand, her heart pained slightly as she felt Bucky flinch underneath her touch.

Irene closed her eyes, her finger tips pressing into Bucky's temple. They both groaned and trembled in pain. Irene screamed out, her body feeling as if it was being ripped in two. And just as before, she and Bucky laid weightless, their bodies colliding with the cold water. Again the world fading black around them both.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Irene's scream broke through the ceiling of the abandoned warehouse. A set of strong arms wrapping around her as she hyperventilated, unable to stop herself from crying.

"Sam." She gasped for air, her heart rate slowing down.

"It's okay." Sam put Irene's hearing aids in, the world stoped piercing around her. "You're safe."

"Irene." Steve kneeled down in front of her, his body dirty and bruised. "What happened?" He spoke softly as Sam caressed her curly hair.

"I—I don't know how." She took deep breaths, holding her hand against her thumping heart.

She turned around, jumping in fright as Bucky sat discombobulated behind her. His head weaving back and forth, he was just as exhausted as them.

"I got in his head, Steve." She sniffled, pointing at Bucky. "I don't know how, but I was there; It was so cold, and dark."

"What do you mean, you always get in peoples heads?' Sam questioned. "And why are you so wet?" He pulled back from her, observing his now damp clothes.

"That's just it!' She popped up. "My mind wasn't in his head—that I'm use to. It was both my mind and body somehow."

"That's why I'm wet." She peeled off her sweater.

"You try that shit again,' Bucky's voice was as hoarse and agitated as Irene remembered. "It won't take the  words of hyrda for me to hurt you."

"It was an accident." Irene whispered.

"Accident or not, I don't need you in my head. I got enough of that going on." His fist pulled tightly together.

"Buck." Steve sighed, placing his hands on his hips, condemning his best friend.

"No it's fine.' Irene held her hand up. "It was a fluke reaction to you squeezing the life out of me." She pointed to the browning bruises on her neck.

Bucky's head hung low as he shook it back and forth. "Yeah, what else did I do?" He grumbled.

"That doesn't matter," Steve said as Sam wrapped his jacket around Irene. "What matters is Irene pulled you back."

Irene gave Steve a dazed look of bewilderment. "What?" She folded her arms over her small chest.

"Whatever happened between you two, it stopped him on his psychotic rampage." Sam said.

"Oh my gosh.' Irene slapped a hand to her forehead, pacing. "How could I be so stupid." She scoffed.

"What?" Steve questioned her.

"I think I spoke to his subconscious." She revealed breathlessly.

"What does that even mean?" Sam retorted.

Irene took a seat on one of the dusty crates that were scattered about the place. "When I was inside Bucky's mind, there was a version of him.' She began. "And I'm assuming since this Bucky doesn't remember our conversation too vividly, I wasn't necessarily speaking directly to him."

"So you spoke to the parts of his mind not tainted by hydra.' Steve said.

Irene nodded, sighing now. "The parts I believe even they can't get to. Parts only someone like me can."

Bucky's eyes frantically flickered back and forth between both Steve and Irene as they communicated.

"What is she saying." Bucky stood up abruptly, making Irene jump.

"She's just saying she can help you, Buck. Calm down." Steve said as he watched Bucky's chest heave and fall with anger and confusion.

"I should leave," Irene announced as she stared at Bucky who could hardly face her. "Tony's probably running frantic looking for me."

"I'll get her halfway," Sam announced, wrapping his arms around Irene.

"Why only half?" Irene paused their walk.

Steve turned to look at her, his hand still holding Bucky's shoulder. "Because like you said early, we're vigilantes now."

Irene shook her head. She knew this would happen eventually. That in the end, they would all be the architects of their own demise. It was simply fruition now.