“Come into the light.” You say softly. The hesitation from the unknown man was rolling off of him onto you. Slowly you see the shoes, his pants, then what seems to be a red henley, and finally the man’s face comes into the soft moonlight.
His face was slightly obscured by his hands, one flesh and one metal. Though you knew exactly at that moment who the man was; James Buchanan Barnes. You could tell he was beyond afraid, but so were you.
Your father reaches for your hands, “Y/N please, don’t do this, you don’t know what he’ll do to you!”
Though your mind was already made up when you kissed your father’s shivering fingers. You turned to face the once beloved hero, a hardened gaze from you burned into him.
You watched him stand still for a moment, the look of shock crossed his features when you agreed to take your father’s place. Though not a second later he forcefully opened the cage’s door.
His metal arm glinted in the moonlight, you were almost transfixed on the appendage before realizing what was happening in front of you. Your father was being forcefully shoved up the stairs, you could hear his protesting to his now ex-captor.
You could feel your throat closing up from the threatening tears in your eyes.
“Please, please let go of her, we won’t tell anyone you’re here!” Your father’s voice was faint, yet you could still hear the desperation radiate from him.
A breeze made its way down towards the basement, you knew the front door had to be opened now. A loud grunt from outside the windows indicated that your father was thrown out.
“Do not come back, if you want your daughter to stay alive… Whatever you do, do not say anything to anyone.” His voice resonated the fear you already held, with it digging deeper into your subconscious.
The tears you tried to hold back were now streaming down your face, blurring any vision you held in the dark room.
A loud slam from upstairs made your skin crawl, along with the slam came his loud footsteps making their way back to you.
It was when the severity of the situation finally hit you when your body began to shake with your sobs. You knew he was there just by the mere aura he emitted.
“You- you didn’t even let me say goodbye!” Your hiccups made you feel pathetic as you viciously rubbed the tears away with your sleeves. “Do you even know who you are?”
You finally looked up at him, your watery eyes causing him to stand still at the end of the staircase.
“Bucky…?” He sounded a bit unsure of himself when answering.
You let out a loud sigh, “Your name is James Buchanan Barnes, better know as,” you waved your hand towards him, “Bucky, by close friends and family, you were a soldier of the 107th Infantry Regiment, childhood friend of Steve Rogers-“
“Stop.” He bellowed, clearly distressed already with what you were telling him. You hurriedly silenced yourself, fearing that if you provoked him, he’d do something rash. “I don’t want to hear that anymore, is that clear?” You nodded your head frantically, he eyed you as you shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. “Did you park nearby?”
“Yes, I - uh - I hid my car, I wasn’t sure if anyone would take it or-“
Bucky raised his hand, signaling you to stop, “That’s fine,” you watched him as he made his way back up the stairs, “follow me.”
You scrambled to your feet, grabbing your purse and making your way towards the ever menacing man before you. He began to lead the two of you back up to the second story of the plantation. Your eyes finally wondered around the halls; pictures of certainly now deceased people, weathered and worn scattered all along the walls. While looking at all the scattered photographs, your body collided into a solid mass.
Unsure of what you should do in this situation, you mumbled out many apologies to him. You looked to him to see him not giving your mishap a second glance.
I mean, slavery was horrible and all that, but is it really fair to include statistics from that time in arguments about today’s government? Like, we decided they were people or whatever, why do we need more of them in Congress?
First-year, undeclared major during a discussion on representation in Congress. Submitted by flavorde
Oh my goodness, I was tagged AGAIN! I love it though! This time I was tagged by the immensely talented @boston-boy-evans. The rules-type for 5 minutes, no more, and post without edits. My fingers were on fire for this one to get it all in!
When you began to wake, the room was filled with the scent
of breakfast, quickly pulling you from your slumber and into a mission to find
the source of the scents that were making your stomach growl so loudly that you
thought you would wake anyone who might be still asleep. With your hair balancing atop your head in a
messy bun, you threw on a pair of Steve’s sweatpants and some mismatched socks,
not caring if you were presentable or not.
You were hungry.
The sounds of the team grew louder as you made your way to
the kitchen, the scent becoming more enticing with each step. Steve was at the stove, wearing your apron and
working feverishly over the skillet, smiling and talking to Bucky as he
worked. You moved to stand behind him
and slid your arms around his waist with a small hug. “You didn’t wake me.”
“You looked too peaceful.
I couldn’t do it,” he said with a grin, turning to give you a quick kiss
hello. “You were up late last night, so
I thought you could use the rest.”
“And who’s fault was that?”
Bucky coughed, choking on his coffee, “I don’t want to hear
this!” He gave his friend a firm slap on
the arm and turned to leave you two alone.
“I don’t know how you think I could sleep through this
anyway,” you said with a wave of your hand around the room. “Whatever you’re making smells amazing.”
“Yeah, (Y/N),” Tony scoffed, getting up from the table to
stand next to Steve with his plate held out expectantly for more. “It’s national pancake day. Leave it to Betsy Ross here to make sure we
celebrate every national holiday.”
Steve held up his spatula at Tony with a warning glance, “you’re
“Betsy Ross?” you chuckled, turning Steve around so you
could see which apron he was wearing. “Oh,
Steve…did you look at this before you put it on?”
“No…?” he mumbled, looking down at the curves of a woman sewn
onto the material, dressed in a very revealing Captain America bikini. His cheeks immediately went red, but he didn’t
remove it, instead turning back to his work.
“Wait till you all see what I wear on national whipped cream day.”