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A Sam/Bucky Rec List

With Captain America: Civil War rapidly approaching (and with some very encouraging reviews of their dynamic) I figured now would be a good time to put together a list of some of my favourite Sam/Bucky fics.

Since there isn’t a huge abundance of purely Sam/Bucky fic (though hopefully after Civil War there’ll be more on the way), this list is split into four parts:

Sam/Bucky fics 

Sam & Bucky fics (i.e not shippy but that explore their dynamic)

Sam/Steve/Bucky fics (that both explore the Sam/Bucky dynamic and make it clear that Sam is just as important to the ship as the other two)

Sam/Bucky fanart

Sam/Bucky:

Make a Thing Go Right by hansbekhart, Explicit, 100k.

Sam meets Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes on a Thursday night, at a burlesque show, and how it happens is this:

It’s already late, later than he should be out on a weeknight, but the theme of the show was a super hero revue and there was no way he was gonna miss that. It’s loud in the venue, which is the back space of what probably used to be a warehouse right near the Gowanus Canal, and Sam’s already had a few. He’s up at the bar during the break, watching the act. He doesn’t hear someone say, “Behind!” so when he steps away from the bar, he smashes right into the guy who’d just done the Captain America routine up on stage, and knocks his drinks to the ground.

-

Or, I wanted to see more stories that captured the weirdness and complexity of being queer, in your late 20s, and trying to date in Brooklyn - which is my life - so I wrote one. Takes place in the MCU.

I’m not going to be commenting on all of these fics otherwise this post will get even longer than it already is, but: this fic, you guys. This fic. Extras and one shots for this verse can be found here, and there’s also a great post-ending one shot by nevermindirah here.

Stumble in the Debris by wintergrey, Explicit, 8.8k.

…this is what his mama meant when she told him not to flirt with danger.

Sam keeps his foot on the gas as he cuts through an intersection on the diagonal and out into a supermarket parking lot. Even the looters are gone now, nothing’s left behind but twisted carts, glittering safety glass, and ransacked cars. The near-black cloud cover above is mottled with red with light cast from fires burning into the night. Strings of purple and white lightning crawl from cloud to cloud, a low rumble of thunder brings a little hope for rain.“Head for the I-66,” Bucky orders.

And the rest of the list will be under the cut, since this is already getting long.

Keep reading

Bucky: you know those moments when i tell you something isn't a good idea-

Sam: -and then i ignore you, yeah

Sam: when i first met you, i didn't like you

Bucky: i'm aware of that

Sam: but then you and i had some time together

Bucky:

Sam: it did not get better

Sam: name a way to be nice to others

Bucky: don't kill them

Sam:

Sam: setting the bar a little low, but i'll allow it

Nat: Bucky, right hand red

Bucky: *ends on top of Sam*

Sam: okay you're doing this on purpose, aren't you?

Nat: i stopped spinning like 15 turns ago, honestly i'm surprised you didn't notice sooner.

Bucky: the real treasure was the memories we made along the way

Sam: Walker almost died

Bucky: that was my fondest memory

Bucky: I just want someone to take me out

Sam: like on a date or with a sniper?

Bucky: surprise me

Bucky: being bi isn't a choice

Bucky: *holds Sam's hand*

Bucky: it's a game and i'm winning

Bucky, internally: man, I REALLY like Sam

Bucky, internally: I better show him how much he means to me

Sam: Buck!

Bucky: *punches him* you dumbass

Bucky, internally: why am I like this?

Sharon: there are some sounds that everyone loves, like shoes on gravel

Zemo: the noise of opening a new wine for the first time

Sam: the sound of the river

Bucky: the snapping of the necks of those who think they can talk badly about Sam

Sam: Bucky and I have the kind of easy chemistry where we finish each other's-

Bucky: Sentences.

Sam: Don't interrupt me.

Imagine 3 feet tall Bucky and Zemo frolicking under the sun just like Sam said.

Telephone

Summary: you met Bucky at a grocery store when you were struggling to reach the top shelf— enamored by him you two exchange phone numbers and begin a friendship. But what happens when suddenly your text messages aren’t going through and your phone calls drop? Did Bucky Barnes block you?

Bucky Barnes x reader (tfatws era)

Warnings: fluff, a bit or angst, platonic friendship.

You let out an exasperated groan, almost at the top of your lungs. This was the third day you had called and text Bucky with no avail—hell every time you did your messages never went through. And you didn’t want to be that clingy person, because things were hard post blip and you knew that. You had just gotten your mom and sister back after five long year’s without them, so you knew adjusting would take time and space. But this much space was ridiculous and it was beginning to bother you—a lot. So you grabbed your keys and stormed down your apartments stairs. Heading towards Bucky’s favorite place—the local Japanese restaurant that you introduced him to, where he found solace in you,Yori and Leah.

After practically breaking the door off it’s hinges you storm into the restaurant. Immediately directing your attention to the bar where Bucky sat talking to Yori and going for a swig of his beer. With your keys jiggling in your hands you approach the two men; your arms crossed tightly over your chest as you watch Bucky laugh at a joke Leah told.

Slowly, Yori turned around and shoots you a wrinkled smile before announcing your presence. “Oh, good day Y/n—won’t you join us for some sushi—it’s tuna!” Yuri beamed, pointing to the half eaten plate of sushi in front of him.

When Yori spoke up you watched Bucky still, his entire body frozen. Bucky groaned to himself, taking a last sip of his beer before pushing himself up from his seat, all while ignoring your presence.

You smiled back at Yori, delighted by his offer. “I’d love to, but I’m vegetarian, Bucky would know that, wouldn’t you Bucky?” You said sarcastically.

“Yori, lovely as always—but I’m going to go. Next ones on me!” Bucky said, stumbling out of his chair throwing down a five dollar bill for a tip and brushing past you.

You scoffed, blowing Yori a kiss before rushing after him. You raced after Bucky as he strode down the sidewalk. You had to jog as he was already a mile ahead of you—and his apartment wasn’t too far.

“Bucky, Bucky!” You called, but before you could get his name out for a third time he had already entered the battered building that was his apartment.

“Shit.” You grunted, holding your waist and taking a few deep breaths, because let’s face it you were no super solider.

Composing yourself, you push open the lobby doors sneaking past the landlord who was snoring loudly as a bug landed right on his forehead. Your nose scrunched in disgust—you told Bucky how much you despised this building and if he ever needed another place you had a two bedroom, but he always suggested otherwise. Stepping out of the creaking elevator you made your way down the gloomy hallway, placing yourself onto his welcome mat and banging on the door like a maniac.

“Bucky! Bucky! I know you’re in there! It’s Y/n let me in we need to talk!” You shouted, as you continuously slapped your hand against his door.

You took a deep breath before banging even louder. “James Bucky Barnes let me—.”

“Hey!” A voice called, startling you a bit.

Slowly, you turn your head to where the voice had come from, only to be face to face with a not so happy tenet.

“Some people have to work a twelve hour shift in two hours, so if you don’t mind visiting your booty call later that would be appreciated.” The man snarled

You scoffed, taking a step back. “Okay, whatever.”

“Thanks.” He said rudely, before slamming his door shut.

“Bucky please, I just want to talk to you. I miss you—and I was going to show you Uno.” You knock softly, whispering against his door not sure if he was going to hear it or not.

But Bucky heard every word. Actually he had heard everything because he’d been leaning against his door for the past three minutes. He felt horrible, and it was his own stupid fault that you two were right here. You were like the sibling he never asked for. You were kind and funny—always teaching him about the vast 21st century. You took him shopping and even helped furnish his once barren apartment, and when you two had a sleep over you didn’t judge him for wanting to sleep on the floor instead of in your guest room. Instead you made it the best sleeping arrangement you could—Bucky adored you, he did. But what if the darkness came back and dimmed your light, or what if you got hurt. He couldn’t live with himself. He was already suffering from ptsd, depression, and the massive guilt of killing Yori’s son—he couldn’t live a day if you got hurt on his behalf. So he cut you out, blocking your phone number and avoiding you at the places you two had loved to go together—except it didn’t work this time, as you were right outside his door.

You slide to the floor, pulling a sticky note and pen from your bag. You were a cartoonist and your favorite way to cheer someone up was to make them into one of your “2 minute cartoon skits.” On the sticky note you drew you and Bucky playing uno at his table laughing with glee and chugging beers. At the bottom you wrote ‘this could be us,’ before sliding it underneath his door. You knew he’d see it, there was no way he wouldn’t.

And surely enough he did, Bucky picked up the note between his fingers a small smile creeping on his face as he picked himself off the floor. He figured if he didn’t let you in now you’d stay out there all day—all week if it was physically possible. Bucky took a deep sigh and unlocked his door revealing you, standing there with pursed lips and scolding eyes. You pushed past him and walked inside his apartment plopping onto his sofa.

“Are you serious.” You spat.

“Y/n.” Bucky groaned, pinching his nose with his vibranium arm.

“Bucky you told me that your therapist said you needed to form and keep relationships. This isn’t helping.”

Bucky sighed, placing his hands on his hips as he held his head low. “You don’t think i know that. I’m trying I really am, I’m just—.”’

“You’re just what?” You stand walking towards him.

“I’m scared.” He whispered.

“Of me?”

“Of me.” He said softly.

“Why?” You gasped. “I don’t understand Bucky.” You said, taking his hand and pulling you both onto his sofa.

“Y/n—I’m better off alone.”

You rolled your eyes taking a deep breath, this had to be the fifth time Bucky had said this to you—and every time you proved him different.

“No you’re not! If you didn’t have me who would show you how to work your phone or play just dance.” You spoke.

Bucky chuckled lowly, shaking his head. “I still don’t understand why we can’t just dance to the music.”

“Because I like to watch the characters dance—and it’s a competition, it's supposed to be fun! But that’s not the point, the point is that you don’t need to be alone and you definitely don’t deserve that.” You said. “Bucky I know we've only known each other for a few months, but I care about you and it hurts when you push me away." You cried.

"Y/n." Bucky whispered gently. "I care about you too, but I'm difficult, my life is difficult.”

You squeezed Bucky’s hand, rubbing the top of his palm. “Then let me help you make it easier.”

Bucky nodded. Realization hitting him, he cared for you and he knew you were right. The road from leaving his title as ‘the winter soldier’ and reclaiming his old life as ‘James Barnes’ started here. It started with forming and keeping friendships and he intended on starting with you.

“Okay.” Bucky said firmly.

“Okay.” You affirmed. “So a round of uno?”

Bucky laughed, throwing his head back. “Only if you teach me the real rules and not the y/n rules.”

“Oh you love my rules Bucky.” You snickered.

“I do.” He grinned, the corner of his eyes crinkling.

“I know.”

A/N: This was a cute idea I had for a whileeeeeee, ever since I saw the trailer for tfatws and now I can really do it with more depth and added characters! This is my first character x reader! I do writing for marvel and Harry Potter so if that interest you this is the place to be! Thank you for the support🍄❤️🌈

Sunflower

Summary: If he’s being honest Bucky’s liked you for a while, you joyful spirit was so intoxicating even in the most damning times. So dancing with him in the kitchen certainly doesn’t help him contain his crush.

Bucky Barnes x fem!reader.

Warnings: Total Fluff! Bucky!crushing

Based off ‘Sunflower’ by Harry Styles!

Italics are flashbacks

It had been yet another unsuccessful day of getting any new leads on the flag smashers, and after that stunt John Walker pulled with Karli—you, Bucky, and Sam weren’t sure you’d ever get another opportunity to get that close.

“If Walker would have fell back I could have talked to her more—coerced her into falling back with her mission.” Sam grumbled, throwing himself onto the sofa alongside Bucky as he nursed a beer.

You shook your head slowly as you walked toward the refrigerator, you weren’t in the mood for a drink. Although after the ass kicking you took you should be in an mood to get wasted—you just weren’t, in fact you wanted to dance of the stress.

“Something isn’t right with Walker,” Bucky began.

Sam snickered, taking another swig of his beer. “You don’t say.”

“He’s a little crazy, but nothing we haven’t faced before in the past.” You said shrugging your shoulders.

“Y/n’s got a point.” Sam said, pointing at you with the tip of his beer.

“Whatever,” Bucky grumbled, as he slipped out of his leather jacket revealing his sleek vibranium arm.

That arm always fascinated you, the intricacies of it all— and you couldn’t help but stare.

You watched carefully as Bucky slipped by you, grabbing the dark liquor that sat on the high shelf above the counter you found yourself propped on. Bucky was truly something else and you’d be lying if you say you didn’t think he was handsome—because James Barnes was very handsome; and the darkness to him only added to that appeal. Your cheeks warmed as you watched him lift the glass and take a sip of the brown liquor, shaking his head a bit from the slight burn of it going down.

Biting your lip you shook off those thoughts. Jumping off of the counter and fixing your outfit you watched Bucky walk towards the couch and sit next to Sam, for two people who couldn’t stand each other they certainly had no problem getting so close.

“I want to dance.” You blurted suddenly, as you watched the two men with their heads thrown back against the couch.

“Well dance.” Sam said, his eyes still closed tightly paying you no mind.

“I can’t dance alone.” You mutter, while shuffling through your playlist until you landed on ‘Sunflower’ by Harry Styles.

“I haven’t danced since the 1940’s, so I’m off the table.” Bucky shrugged.

Sam rolled his eyes, taking a stern look at Bucky beside him, he knew the whole tough guy approach when it came to you was a facade . He watched how on recent missions Bucky he’d melt in your touch, or sway his opinion on the plan to coincide to what you believed should be the course of action. Or the one time he had gotten hurt and you healed him, not without having to touch his chest, Sam could have swore Bucky would explode with how red his face had become. Sam also knew you were still getting a handle on your powers and always approached fight with a gentle approach, and fighting the flag smashers with their brute force was challenging for you. He remembers watching you get kicked back pretty hard and taking a nasty hit and Bucky swooping in and punching them hard—harder than Sam thinks he’s ever seen.

So yeah, Sam knew Bucky had a crush on you. And he knew you felt the same way, as you only told him a million times.

...

“Do you think Bucky is available.”

Sam scoffed, pulling out red wing, as he was shattered to pieces. “I think an 106 year old reformed assassin is always available.”

“You think, I mean not—not that I care, I’m asking for a friend.” You lied.

“Mhm,’ Sam hummed. “And what’s this friends name?”

“Um,’ you said, tapping your index finger slightly on your chin. “Come to think of it—I can’t remember.”

“Is this friends name, Y/n?”

“Pff, why would I like a overwhelming handsome mysterious guy I work with?” You said sarcastically.

“Sound like your type,” Sam laughed, as he played with red wing. “Ask him out already, I’m sure he’ll say yes.”

“No, I can’t!’ You whispered. “Stop talking he’s coming.”

“He’ll say yes, trust me.” Sam whispered back.

“What did I miss?” Bucky said, drying his dark hair off with a towel.

“Nothing!” You holler, louder than even you expected.

...

“You should go dance with her.” Sam said, nudging Bucky with his elbow.

“And why would I do that.” Bucky frowned, watching you do some weird dance with your hands and neck.

“Because you like her.” Sam said bluntly.

“I do not like her!” Bucky whisper shouted.

Sam chuckled. “Please I haven’t seen you punch something that hard since our bridge moment.”

Bucky drew his eyebrows together completely focused on Sam, with you still bouncing around in the background. “What does that mean?”

“Y/n hurt, our mission, you practically breaking that flag-smashers jaw.’ Sam explained. “Oh Y/n, are you okay.” Sam teased, cupping his hands together at the side of his face while batting his eyelashes obnoxiously.

“Shut up man—she’s our partner and she was hurt.” Bucky said sternly.

“The girl can bend blood on a full moon, I’m sure she was fine. If I’m being honest she probably did it to get your reaction.” Sam smirked, taking a swig of his beer.

“Whatever.” Bucky groaned, getting up from the couch.

“Where you going lover boy?” Sam said loudly.

“To get a beer—and I’m not a lover boy!” He affirmed.

Bucky slipped into the kitchen, his eyes on the fridge but he couldn’t help but watch you dance in the kitchen like it was a dance floor. He admired how happy you could always be—and at first he thought it was attributed to your lack of loss or trauma but then he found out your entire tribe was burned down and you had nothing. But he figured your meditation skills helped , and that you could often speak with your loved ones through the spirit realm you often entered . He learned that one night when he walked in on you, completely glowing blue and holding hands with an unknown woman who was also entirely light up blue.

Bucky reached into the fridge grabbing the beer he wanted before shutting it and you were right there bouncing up and down. Bucky snickered a bit before turning to walk away.

“James.” You whined from behind him.

He stopped in his tracks, he didn’t mind when you called him Bucky but he especially liked when you called him James.

“Yes Y/n.” He said, popping open his beer easily.

“Dance with me?” She asked, holding out a hand for him.

“No.” Bucky said.

“Please, just one song. You know you want to.” You smiled, shrugging your shoulders to the beat.

“No.” He said again.

Not thinking, you grab his hand and drag him with you jumping to the beat as Bucky stood completely frozen. He hadn’t pulled away, he loved your touch it was the softest he had felt since his mother.

You hummed the lyrics of the song bouncing up and down and kicking around. You had no rhythm but look absolutely adorable at what you were doing.

“Not going to dance—okay, I’ll do it for you.” You said out of breath.

Slowly you push and pull Bucky’s body toward yours, interlocking your fingers as you did so. The more you did this the looser the smile on his lips got. And eventually Bucky swayed to the beat with you, it was a small dance but it was still noticeable to you and Sam at least. The two of you danced until the end of the song as promised, and eventually Bucky had a very big grin on his face—he did quite enjoy Harry Styles, and dancing with you of course. The first girl since 1943. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, he enjoyed every bit of it.

“Well I guess I can’t hold you hostage, the one song is over.” You panted.

Bucky rubbed the back of his neck slowly, coughing a bit. “I wouldn’t mind another if that’s okay.” He said.

A wide smile appeared on your face, your eyes crinkling in the corner. “I would love that James.”

“Can it be Watermelon Sugar?” He asked.

“It can be whatever you want.” You laugh, gripping his hands once more.

“Watermelon Sugar it is.” He said with a smile.

A/N: Pleaseeeee can y’all imagine Bucky dancing in the kitchen to Harry Styles with the fattest smile. My heart 💞💞 I love Bucky and Wanda so lots of their fics coming soon.

Please reblog if you enjoyed!

confession. I have this whole story I’ve been writing and working on featuring Bucky barnes and a fleshed out O/c; my opinion of course. Nevertheless, I’ve been uploading on wattpad and I’m not getting the response that’s motivating me to keep going. Should I post on here? It’s Bucky barnes x black o/c.

Their ship dynamic is to the right btw.

"𝐁𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐋𝐢𝐞𝐬" 𝐁.𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄: 𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆

001

Series warnings: for mature audiences (18+). Includes mentions of death/murders in graphic detail, leg closing NSFW sex (eventually), slow-burn. Also overall angst and fluff!

Series summary: Peyton thought she had everything she wanted. She had a family, were they complicated—no doubt. Not to mention a cafe struggling on its own two feet. But for Peyton, that was more than enough. Insert Bucky Barnes, the mysterious man from her cafe. The more she begins to pull back the layers of the elusive Bucky Barnes, the more the facade of a full heart begins to fade and craves to be filled by his presents. All the while Bucky's own guilt consumes him—seemingly only being cured by his bed of lies.

Peyton noticed him; hell, how could she not. The cafe wasn't big at all. In fact, it was the exact opposite. With its six tables, including the bench outside, there was no hiding in the Beanie Bussiness Cafe. And the man who sat in the corner every day was no exception.

Often Bucky would watch Peyton or her mother, Adrianna, with his intense blue eyes, sending shutters down their spine. It had been the beginning of week three since he had started visiting them, and today Peyton had enough. She would talk to him, confront him if she had to.

Peyton burst through the kitchen doors, wiping her wet hands off on her worn-down lemon print apron. "Charlie, I'm gonna do it," Peyton blurted.

"Do what, exactly?" Charlie muttered, her striking green eyes never leaving the fresh cinnamon roll she was icing.

"Confront him.' Peyton said, taking a sip of her hours-old coffee. "Confront blue eyes, I mean."

Charli snickered, brushing a loose piece of her blonde hair behind her ear. "Is that what we're calling him now?" She asked, pushing her iced cinnamon rolls into the warmer.

Peyton rested her arms on the flour-dusted counter. "I've always called him that—besides, have you got any better names?"

"Hm. Touché," said Charlie, glancing over her shoulder.

"Great, now give me a cinnamon roll." Peyton grinned, her palm covered by a plate that she held out in front of Charlie.

"I think you can ask a bit nicer," Charlie smirked, dancing around Peyton with the cinnamon roll clasped between a pair of tongs.

Peyton took in a deep breath, inhaling the scent of the baked goods that surrounded her. "Charlie, may I please have the cinnamon roll that you are holding hostage from my clutches so that I can give it to the strange man who sits in my cafe every day." She asked in a robotic tone.

Charlie dropped the cinnamon roll onto Peytons plate, tilting her head to the side. "Fine—but we're working on your manners, young lady!" She shouted, pointing at Peyton with the pair of tongs she held.

"Pff. I have manners! So many that I think it could be my superhero name." Peyton boasted, as she faced Charlie while walking backwards.

"We aren't the avengers, Pea," Charlie said.

Peyton paused, her lips pulling tightly together. "I know—because if we were, we would have never blipped for five years, and my business wouldn't have gone to shit." Peyton said. She used her green manicured nails to push open the kitchens swinging doors, walking the peace offering over to table number ten.

Finishing her strut to the table, Peyton smiled down awkwardly at Bucky, who sat sipping his freshly roasted black coffee. No sugar, no cream—just coffee. She cleared her throat in an attempt to get his attention. She wanted him to look at her the way he did so many times when he believed she hadn't noticed.

Eventually, he did. Slowly, Bucky lifted his eyes to see Peyton holding a fresh cinnamon roll in front of him. Bucky shot her a stiff grin, one that looked almost painful to produce. He hadn't ordered the cinnamon roll, he never ordered anything but black coffee from the cafe, and he assumed Peyton knew that.

She was aware Bucky's only order was coffee. And in Peyton's opinion, Bucky had the easiest, and if she was honest, most basic order out of all of her regulars. So, of course, she knew he didn't order the cinnamon roll.

Bucky coughed, placing his mug down with his flesh hand. "I didn't order that." He stated.

"I know.' Peyton placed the plate down, scooting it in front of Bucky with the tips of her slim fingers. "I wanted to give it to you." She smiled.

Bucky's eyes nervously looked at the roll, then back at Peyton, who had found herself seated comfortably in the chair across from him. He stiffened as she watched him with her intense brown eyes. Her stare wasn't the worst he had ever seen. But it was so obvious it was physically painful to Bucky. 

"What are you doing?" Bucky said dryly.

Peyton leaned back into the chair, squinting her eyes at Bucky who sat before her. "What are you doing?" She asked back.

Bucky's eyebrows drew together as he took another slow sip of his coffee. He didn't know what she was implying, and he was nervous about finding out.

"I mean here.' Peyton's brown eyes grew wide as she slapped a hand over her mouth. "I'm sorry—not that you aren't welcome! What I mean is, I've never had a customer come in so often and never speak to anyone."

Bucky tried to respond, but the words were logged in his throat. All he could do was give Peyton his intense stare as it usually got people to leave him alone—but Peyton kept going.

"You see Mr. Jeffery?' Peyton shifted her gaze toward the older gentleman who sat reading an old book. "He comes in every day around the same time as you, maybe five minutes earlier. But he always speaks to us."

Peyton placed her hands onto the table, lifting out of her seat and leaning close to Bucky, causing him to shift back into his chair, uncomfortable with how close her nose was to his own.

"So I need to ask you two questions.' She glared. "Do you work for the Feds?"

"What? No." Bucky croaked, his eyes growing wide.

"Okay then.' Peyton sunk back into her seat. "So, are you stalking me?"

Bucky nearly choked on his coffee. He was coughing loudly while Peyton stared at him in distress. Bucky knew he looked peculiar sitting in the coffee shop each morning, not saying a word. And his approach to making amends was obscure, but Bucky was scared to reveal the truth—he'd be cruel to come in and ruin their happy lives.

Initially, Bucky had planned on slipping them a note and never returning. But when he saw how full of life they were, he couldn't. It felt wrong. So, he would settle for the stalker narrative—it felt better than the truth.

"No,' Bucky coughed once more. "I'm not—I should leave." He rapidly stood out of his chair as Peyton did the same, almost blocking him from leaving.

"No, I should leave you alone." Peyton ran her fingers through her hair, the tips getting stuck between her thick curls. "Please, sit.' She reassured, pointing to his seat. "The cinnamon roll is on the house. Tell me if you like it—it's our first batch of vegan rolls we're selling." She smiled, walking away backward, bumping into a table with her hip.

Bucky nodded, slowly sitting back down. His attention now focused on the warm roll sat in front of him, hesitantly he picked it up, turning it from side to side. It smelt marvelous, and before the cinnamon roll was placed in front of him, his stomach hadn't growled. But now, he was ravenous.

Bucky took one more sniff before taking a bite. His steel-blue eyes grew wide as the silky dough melted in his mouth like a marshmallow. He let out a low moan of satisfaction, it had been years since he had something so sweet, and he intended on savoring every bite.

From behind the display case, Peyton watched as Bucky devoured the cinnamon roll. She had a huge grin plastered on her face, mentally checking off talking to the man in the corner from her to-do list—not that she honestly had one.

She watched as Bucky stacked his plate and coffee mug neatly, pushing it to the edge of the table. Bucky would leave his coffee cup on the table on a typical day, with a generous tip tucked underneath it. It was thoughtful, and Peyton felt he was kind—or at least kind enough for her to bombard his space the way she just had. Peyton walked through the kitchen and into dry storage, where her mother stood. Pen and paper in hand, collecting inventory for the cafe.

"Momma, I did it." Peyton squealed, gripping her mother's shoulders, shaking them a bit.

Adrianna took Peyton's hands in hers, removing them from her shoulders. "Did what baby," She asked while counting the number of flour they had in stock.

"There's fifteen, by the way.' Peyton pointed to the flour."But I talked to blue-eyes."

"Thank you, darling." Adrianna jotted the number down and moved on, her eyes narrowing as she paused her stride. "Who?" She asked.

Peyton groaned, dramatically tossing herself onto the baking utensils behind her. "The man that always sits in the corner, remember him?" Peyton flayed her arms. "Oh, of course you do because he only sits there every day!" She exclaimed.

Adrianna glared at Peyton over her shoulder, not impressed with her daughter's tone. "Don't get smart. I might be pushing fifty, but I'll still give you a beat down." Adrianna threatened.

"Momma, you know I don't mean it like that. It's just, how am I the only one who notice him."

"Because you're a weirdo." Adrianna laughed. "But you're my weirdo, so it's okay." Giggling, she kissed her daughter's hairline, moving around her to finish inventory.

"Whatever," Peyton chuckled lightly. "I should be getting Mr. Jeffery his third round of matcha anyways." Peyton stalled, looking around her."Where is my coffee?"

"I threw it out!" Charlie shouted as she washed a pile of dishes.

"You did not!' Peyton marched over to Charlie. "Why I outta feed you to Alpine!" Peyton shouted, shaking a finger in Charlie's face.

Charlie smirked, biting Peyton's finger playfully. "That cat loves me." She said, releasing Peyton's finger from her mouth.

Peyton moved a curl out of her face raising her eyebrow cheekily at Charlie. "Seeing as he's my cat, I'm pretty sure he loves me."

"I think he loves him," Adrianna said, her head peeking out from the kitchen's swinging door.

"What?" Peyton frowned, walking over to her mother, standing on her tiptoes. "What the hell." She whispered.

There, she saw Alpine, her cat who was rubbing against Bucky, resting comfortably on his lap. But Bucky wasn't repulsed by Alpines friendly nature. Instead, he stroked Alpines white fur, only making the cat nuzzle into him more. From the kitchen, Peyton could see him whispering to Alpine— and of course, she couldn't hear what was said, but she was still curious.

"Oh man, what should I do?" Peyton paced, pinching the bridge of her nose.

Charlie, being the tallest, had no use for her tiptoes. She simply looked above Adrianna's head, getting a view of the action as Peyton paced back and forth behind them.

"Maybe go get your cat, just a thought." Said Charlie.

"Right," Peyton said, fluffing her hair a bit in the reflection of the window.

"What the hell are you doing?" Charlie laughed.

"Nothing," Peyton snapped back all too quickly.

Peyton walked out of the kitchen doors, slowly making her way to Bucky's table. Where Alpine rested on his shoulders, she thought of the ways she'd ask for her cat back. Maybe she could try "Hey, mister, can I have my cat back," or "May you please return my cat." It all sounded stupid, and before she knew it, Peyton found herself standing above Bucky once more.

"Hi," Peyton grinned, eyeballing Alpine.

"Hi," Bucky said, allowing Alpine to climb on his covered metal arm.

She watched as Alpine rolled over, swatting at his gloved hands. "He likes you." She chuckled.

Bucky began to pet Alpine once more. "Hm."

Peyton was taken back by his lack of words, not knowing what to say to him or if she'd get more than a three-word response in return.

"Do you have any pets?" Peyton blurted.

"No."

Peyton sighed, slipping into the same chair as she had done before. "Well, do you have a name?" Her voice had a nervous tremor as she played with her fingers.

"Bucky," He said, gently handing her Alpine while walking past.

Following him, she stuck out her hand for him to shake. "Well, I'm Peyton." but by then, Bucky was already halfway out the door.

Bucky nodded, shooting her a faint smile before shutting the door behind himself. Bucky knew her name—Bucky knew all their names. He had to because painfully, he remembered all of them. All of the victims who suffered at the hands of the Winter Soldier. Especially the innocent ones.

Walking down the crowded street, Bucky's phone began to buzz in his pocket. Taking it out, he flipped open the screen. He groaned aloud when he saw it was Sam trying to get in contact with him. Composing himself, he answered.

"Yeah," He said bleakly.

Back at the cafe, Peyton had Alpine cradled in her arms as she rocked him back and forth. She walked around to where Bucky once sat, she cleared his mug and plate from the table, placing them into the tub she had placed beside her. She picked up the daily tip Bucky left, putting it in her pocket. In the corner of her eye, Peyton watched as a tiny napkin fell to the floor. Placing Alpine down and letting him roam, she bent over and picked up the small napkin. Unfolding it, she read the one word written on it.

"Thanks."

How fitting, Peyton thought.

Smiling to herself and releasing a small laugh, she shoved the note into her pocket, feeling as if she had accomplished something for the day. All Peyton wanted to do was make those around her feel good—and most times, she achieved that with her baking. So knowing  Bucky enjoyed her first batch of vegan cinnamon rolls warmed her heart. After today she could officially put speaking to Bucky behind her.

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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 ONE

Irene's feet and back ached unnaturally. It seemed there wasn't enough medicine in the world for her to shake the feeling. After the mission in Logos, and Irene's failed attempt at saving civilians from a burning building. She was left with a seared back, and could only assume that's why she had been sleeping for almost two days straight.

Irene made her way down the marble steps in which she despised. Mentioning to Tony on more than one occasion that it was definitely a safety hazard. Anyone not barefoot would easily meet their demise at this bottom of the stair case.

Eventually her silent travel through the hallway of the compound was cut short and suddenly trampled over with a mixture of angry voices. One of them she could point out immediately. It was that of Tony Stark.

The conference room was in complete shambles. Even the air felt divided. Cap stood beside Sam with scrawls on their faces. Vision comforted Wanda as her chest rose and fell heavy with guilt. Nat tried to talk Tony out of being childish and advocated for him to listen to his teammates.

Irene walked in, shutting the door behind herself. The click of glass causing the commotion to decease. Everyone's eyes on her now.

"Ah, you're awake!' Rhodes stood up from his chair "Irene would you please tell Cap he's lost his mind." He proceeded to slap Steve's shoulders with his heavy hand.

Irene eyed Tony, whose fingers spread wide and made a peak whole for him to see through. "What's going on here?" She signed to him.

"Well.' Tony stood up, adjusting his suit. "As you may know while we were too busy kicking ass and taking names. We ended up killing and injuring hundreds of Logos civilians.' He said sarcastically as Irene intently focused on his lips.

"But that's just another avengers game day average." He drawled.

"I know, I was there." Irene's eyes fell to her feet.

"Get to issue, Stark." Cap grumbled, taking a seat.

"The issue is we're under jurisdiction now.' Tony grabbed a thick unfamiliar stack of papers along with a pen, passing it to Irene.

Slightly air brushed against her face as she flipped through the pages of the accords. "Jurisdiction?' Irene questioned. "I don't understand?" She sat the papers down.

"We'll allow me to assist with that." Secretary Ross pushed open the glass doors. Interrupting the avengers and their trivial arguing .

"Good morning, Irene.' He smiled slightly, closing the door behind himself. "Glad to see your well and walking."

"Something like that." Irene muttered, taking a seat besides Wanda and Vision.

"You okay?' She intruded Wanda's mind probing the question.

Wanda just sighed and closed her eyes, reaching out for Irene's hand. Irene intertwined their fingers.

"You'll be okay, everything will be okay." She thought, knowing Wanda could hear her.

Secretary Ross cleared his throat with a cough, while adjusting his tie. "Obviously I didn't come here today to reward you all with a pizza party."

Sam laughs at this. Ross glares at him, coughing once more.

"I'm here today to discuss those big white stacks of papers.' He pointed to the accords that were scattered about in various parts of the room. "I can now see you've all had a chance to observe them." He eyed Wanda.

"Why don't you just tell us what you really want from us." Cap spat out, leaning back and folding his arms over his chest.

"Well, Captain. I want to do what every great business man wants. I want to sell it to you." He grabbed a stack of the accords along with a pen. "And if you like, sign it." He pushed the documents, Irene watched them slide across the smooth wooden table, stopping directly in front of Steve Rogers.

"If not, you'll find out." He winked.

"If we sign this we give up our right to choose, don't you see that." Sam said.

"Yeah and every-time we've chosen more people wind up dead rather than saved." Rhodes inserted, talking directly to Sam.

"Well then we workout a better civilian casualty prevention plan before we strike!" Sam escalated.

"We've tried that before, bird costume!' Tony shouted. "And it still nearly landed Irene dead!" He pointed at her back bandages that were visible through her black tank top.

Wanda winced, her hand slipped from Irene's immediately. Not even able to look at her friend as her head held low in shame.

"Stop it.' Irene spoke up while signing. "You're scaring her." She pointed at Wanda.

"She should be scared, you all should.' Ross began. "You and Wanda are two of the countless enhanced individuals out there. If not used properly your powers can reek havoc. Logos made that obvious." He clicked a button on a remote which illuminated a screen behind him.

"Sokovia—New York.' He sighed, flipping through graphic photos of collapsed buildings and civilian casualties. "Do we really want the list to expand? Hero's are meant to save people, not hurt them."

Irene sighed closing her eyes. Had she been a bad hero all this time? Was she doing more harm than good. When Tony found her at the tender age of thirteen she knew what she could do, the afghan military had been using her for years.

Making Irene shape shift into political leaders, generals, or even regular people to foil out their plans—whatever they may be. She got into peoples mind and scrambled them around a bit. She was the personification of fear when she was a prisoner to them.

But when Tony freed her, a switch went off. She vowed only to use her powers for good. She would be the only one in charge of how she used them and when.

She would use them to protect, not harm. And if she was doing this, If she was indeed causing harm unintentional or not. Irene felt she needed to be rectified.

"So what does that say about us?" She whispered.

"What?" Wanda responded to Irene's whisper, facing her now.

Irene's eyes glossed over in fear, a tear daring to fall. "He's got a point Wanda, if we're the problem—shouldn't we be the solution?"

Wanda scoffed, pushing past vision and Irene. "I can't do this." She sniffled, holding herself tight as she left the room

Secretary Ross kissed his teeth together and shook his head. "Reality is often disappointing.' He walked the room, sauntering closer to the door. "Take a day or two to thing about it. And by a day or two, I mean by tomorrow." He closed the door, biding the avengers goodbye.

"Well, that went smoothly." Rhodes sighed.

The day sauntered on slowly. And Wanda hadn't spoke to Irene for the better part of it. Not aloud and not within her mind either. Irene paced back and forth outside of Wanda's bedroom door.

She had already tried to enter Wanda's mind, but she figured she had been caught and cut off from entry from now on.

"Wanda?' She knocked lightly on the door. "Please let me in."

Wanda grumbled, throwing the pillow off her face and onto the ground. She lifted her hand and flicked open the door with a swoosh of red energy.

"What!" She spat, her eyes flashing scarlet red.

Irene's eyes widened. "I'm sorry.' She said. "I didn't mean to upset you, can I come in?" Irene said calmly.

Wanda's eyes softened. She could never truly stay mad at Irene, she just hand that affect on Wanda.

"Fine." Wanda grumbled, stepping aside allowing Irene in. "Stop smiling, I can feel it." She closed the door.

"Why?" Irene signed with a frown.

Wanda crossed her arms over her chest, watching Irene get comfortable on her bed. "Because it's disgustingly adorable, and you're not my favorite friend right now."

Irene giggled. "I can't help that you think I'm adorable." She signed toward Wanda with a smug smile.

Wanda rolled her eyes. "Stop.' She signed assertively. "Im upset with you."

"Are you actually going to side with Secretary Ross? You know he is mainly targeting you and I." She signed some more.

The fluid motions of her ASL impressed Irene. She couldn't help but smile although she was being lectured by the witch.

"I—I'm not sure yet.' She tossed herself back onto Wanda's pillows. "Are you sure he's targeting just us?" Irene questioned.

Wanda tugged her long brown hair, a disgruntled look painted on her face as she stared Irene down.

"Irene, you and I can take out all of them with just our minds." She said.

"Also bear in mind, I can make a pen float, and you can change into anything you desire.' She sat besides Irene. "Do you really think Ross isn't after us? That he isn't afraid?"

"Are you afraid?" Irene raised an eyebrow. "I can feel your fear."

Wanda stood up, folding her arms over her chest and bringing her purple cardigan closer to herself. "Then you would already know I'm terrified.' She sighed. "I'm a monster, and I don't need a stack of papers solidifying that for me."

"No.' Irene's voice cracked as she slowly shook her head. "You're not a monster, you'd never hurt anyone."

"Irene I killed all those people in Lagos! I nearly killed you from the flames! How can you say I'm not a monster?" She shouted, tears flooding her eyes.

"If you think that way, shouldn't you at least give the accords a try?" Irene prosed.

"For girls like you and I, the accords is one step closer to locking us away—and that's what they really want. They just won't say it." Wanda opened her door with her red magic.

Irene's head dipped into the crook of her chin, she knew what Wanda wanted. She sighed slowly leaving the room, shutting the door behind herself.

Wanda was right, Secretary Ross was afraid of their abilities. But maybe that was all the reason she should be confined. How could she be a true hero if people were afraid of her. She didn't want to cause a riff, but when she became an avenger she made allegiance to the people of this planet and others. And she refused to let them down again.

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.

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 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.