Bucky Barnes/James Barnes/The Winter Soldier Imagines

Beneath Weary Moons (Tony Stark angst)

Summary: Every night JARVIS would calm him from his terrors. Then one night, JARVIS walked. He walked from the tower with his own body and mind, and now Tony Stark is truly alone. One shot. Angst.

Genre: Angst

Pairings: None

Trigger warnings: PTSD, depression, Tony Stark crying, mentions of self harm

Song: Hurt - Johnny Cash (Logan Version)

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First he had been stabbed in the heart.

A rocket carved guilt into his chest.

Forever marring him as a dead man walking.

So he had shut down Stark Industries weapons division. And that meant his 'friends' were suddenly busy, and his 'fans' were tweeting death threats. Minor things, he guessed. The real hurt came from seeing how many of them were faking it, not that they themselves were fakes.

Still, sometimes.. it made Tony wonder if, despite it being an attempted assassination, it counted as self harm.

Then Obie had betrayed him.

Tried to kill him.

Made him look like an idiot, a fool, and literally torn his heart (sort of..) from his chest. Realistically it had started well before then, but his blissful ignorance was a sort of barbed comfort blanket. He wanted it back if it meant his life would be.. would be normal again.

He thought he'd seen everything then.

And then of course everyone else tried to kill him. People he'd never heard of. People he had. Some weren't surprising; Justin Hammer always had been a weasel of a man.

Pepper, too, had nearly died.

God, the thought of her in pain- of her falling, screaming, and the fear in her eyes. Never before had he experienced such abject terror. When she left him, Tony couldn't blame her.

"I'm sorry," she croaked, dabbing her eyes. Pepper couldn't look at him but Tony couldn't tear his eyes away from her. "I just can't, Tony. I can't. I'm so afraid- that I'll lose you, or you'll get hurt. Sometimes I worry for myself, too. It's all too much. But I love you, Anthony Stark-"

Everything after that blurred.

Sure, Pepper was right. Hell, she was more than right. When wasn't she. Not one day passed when any of them couldn't help but wonder if it would be the last. And while Rogers and Romanov seemed to thrive on it, Tony drank and Pepper took anti-anxiety pills.

They weren't trained for bullets and spies. They knew boardroom warfare, sabotage, and political espionage.

So she left, and he hugged her, then cried, then he went and built a better suit.

It was okay after a while. JARVIS was always there, and frankly, some days wouldn't have lead to new ones if J hadn't been there. Been his rock.

"J-Ja-ay," Tony slurred his words, glass shaking slightly. Whiskey splashed the rim and dripped onto the already stained carpet.

Silence.

Oh, that's right.. no more JARVIS.

'Right,' Tony thought to himself, 'How many have I had?'

Hazily he could recall maybe eight glasses of liquor. Nothing fancy, it was all straight and whatever was in the nearest bottle. Was eight too many?

"S-s'aah, be f'ne," Tony hiccuped, reaching to pour himself another glass.

He misjudged the distance, however, and slipped in a recent spill. Landing facedown, Tony groaned, vision blurring.

'Fuck.' He thought. 'I'm drunk.'

Struggling to get up, Tony wiggled on his stomach, crawling towards a bar stool before coming to lean against it, panting.

'Never mind.. this is comfortable..'

Why had JARVIS left him?

"Why.." Tony whimpered into the carpet.

Had he been a bad creator? Had he hurt J's feelings? Probably. Tony always did that sort of shit. Made people cry and then abandon him. Or run from him.

"J-JARVIS, buhddy," Tony croaked.

"Sir?" FRIDAY questioned.

Everything slowed down for a second.

"JARVIS?" Tony whispered.

"JARVIS is not here, sir," FRIDAY replied quietly.

So Tony screamed. He screamed and he thrashed, crying into the filthy carpet. He drooled on himself and choked up, crying like he had when he was still too small to understand why the real Jarvis had also left him.

"Sir, if I ca-"

Tony choked. "Fuck off, FRIDAY..just.. you aren't JARVIS."

It hurt. It hurt to even think- his only real friend; therapist, mentor, apprentice, his fucking everything was gone. He'd been given a body but it was like he was dead.

What kind of fucking sick god thought it would be funny to take his J away? Is this how mourning mothers feel? But then he had to stop. He couldn't think about it. He didn't want to, it made him feel like he was back in that awful cave in Afghanistan..

And then of course, he'd hurt FRIDAY.

"FRIDAY?" Tony whispered.

Silence.

So Tony lay face down, sobbing silently, and wondered once again why he had to wake up in the morning.

~

•insp• from superhusbands4ever post

Reblog if you want a cute lil love letter from a fictional character or actor from your blog. I’ll write every one and put it in your ask box.

Long may she reign. 

Truth Hurts

Part One?

Bucky x Reader Angsty Short

A/N: Wrote this on a whim (hence why it’s so short) and might write a second part (because I have a backstory already thought out). Don’t know yet…

You sat motionlessly in the modern chair. You matched the stillness of your surroundings, remaining hidden in the shadows of the dark room. Footsteps echoed in the hallway and your eyes studied the closed door. Each and every scenario played out in your head. Your mind fixated on the worst, however you knew that wasn’t the case. No matter the man’s skills, you were better. You were faster. You lacked morality. You had to.

The footsteps paused for a brief moment before the door swung open. The lights switched on as the man entered his room and to the untrained eye, a knife magically appeared in his hand. You fought off a smirk knowing he had been carrying it around with him all day. A sense of assertion wanted you to laugh and steal the knife away, but you couldn’t. No emotions. Not with him.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Confusion, anger, and pain were noticeable in his voice.

“Steve called me.” You remained still. “We need to talk.”

“About what?” He set the knife down; your eyes caught a faint glisten of metal under a midnight colored glove. 

“Moving on.” Your chest tightened and you adjusted your wording. “You’re not the Winter Soldier anymore, that’s behind you.”

“But-”

“No.” You sat forward. You knew every word you were going to say would rip and tear and shred yourself in his eyes, and in yours. But Steve asked you to do this, you were the only one who could. “You’re James Buchanan Barnes.”

“That’s not who I am anymore.” Bucky whispered.

“Get over it.” Your hands instinctively tightened around the armrests and your nails indented the plastic. “You killed people, so what? Yeah, that sucks, but they’re dead. They’re dead, James, you couldn’t stop it and you can’t change it. They’re gone, they can’t be brought back.”

His eyes were trained on the ground. He opened his mouth to speak but you beat him to it.

“And don’t give me that ‘but I did it, I killed them’ bullshit. Yeah, you did. You can’t change that, James! It happened, all you can do now is move forward. Because if you hadn’t killed them, we both know damn well someone else from Hydra would have.”

Tears formed in his eyes and you begged yourself to stop but you couldn’t. Sometimes you had to break a person to fix them.

“And you know what, you’re right. Everything, everything, that has happened is because of you. Hydra becoming what they did and infiltrating SHIELD? That’s because of you, that’s because of the Winter Soldier and everything you did as him. Howard’s death? You. The entire fall of SHIELD? You. Breaking apart the team and Steve losing his shield? You. This all happened because of you. Everything.” You shoved yourself up from the chair and walked towards the door. 

Bucky sat slumped over in his. His breathing was uneven and his hands covered his face. A few tears fell to the floor before he could stop them. His body shook as he took in another breath. An ache as sharp as a knife plunged into your chest and raced down into your stomach. Spots filled your vision and nausea swirled your mind. You stopped before leaving and steadied your voice before speaking the words that you had been waiting to say, ones that you knew would help him. 

“But without you…what exists now, what we all have now, happiness, admiration, teamwork, friendship, love…it wouldn’t exist. Without you, we’d be nothing.” 

So I finally graduated high school and now i’ve been accepted into going to the university of performing arts in New Zealand. Im very greatful for all the things I have accomplished and i’d like to thank Sebastian Stan. I’ve looked up to him as an inspiration to follow my dreams into becoming an actor and I think he’s a really great talented actor who deserves an Oscar.

Woohoo goodbye 13 years of schooling and hello to the adult world😌🏫📓

me, interacting with another 20+ year old on tumblr:

Darcy and Bucky. 60: Before you decide to murder me, let me explain...

“Damn neat freak. Why can’t he just leave things out where I need them?” Darcy muttered as she shuffled through Steve’s desk as carefully as possible. If she’d had more time to take photo evidence and ensure she put everything back where it was, she would have. But she’d only been able to convince Nat to kick Steve’s ass for two bouts in the ring, maybe three tops. She didn’t want to encourage too much saltiness between teammates, after all.

“I don’t know if it’s the army or your own tight-assed nature Steve, but why the hell do you have to hide your stuff?”

He’d let her go through his sketches a week earlier and she’d found it. The perfect image she needed for her next attack on Sam. Steve had doodled him as a pin-up model, flirty posture, heels and everything. And it was the exact logo she needed to brand her new assault. Literally. If only Steve hadn’t taken away the notebook as soon as he heard her mildly evil chuckle. Spoilsport. 

If she could just find the damn sketchbook.

She had just started gently rifling through the sock drawer when there was a soft click and the door swung open behind her. Her hands clenched and she plastered a placating smile on as she turned her head. But her teasing cajole died in her throat. That wasn’t Stevie Wonder Boy at the door.

It was Bucky.

Shit.

“Before you decide to murder me, let me explain…”

Keep reading

Sam Wilson in Captain America: The Winter Soldier (2014) dir. Joe and Anthony Russo

energy (part one)

  part two   bucky barnes x reader   word count: 2517   warnings: cussing possibly   a/n: hey! this is part one since it was really long and I didnt want people to get annoyed with the length! I don’t own anything marvel.

  “We don’t need anymore doctors on site.” Steve insisted. You sat in the corner of the room, jotting down notes as quickly as you could.

  You joined the team unofficially as their mission processor. You were in charge of how many paramedics and doctors you would have on hand, you kept track of all the supplies they took on mission, and exactly what team members were in the field and what team members stayed behind for backup.

  You didn’t mind whatsoever that you were never out on the field. In fact you liked the simplicity of the job. In reality, your only job was to be organized which was not a problem. It payed well and gave you a place to live. You had a room somewhere else in the compound and most nights were quiet.

  The only hard part was watching who went on the missions. And this one seemed a million times more serious than the last. You were looking at nearly a thousand soldiers with alien power control. Somehow the enemy got their hands on some of the alien tech from when Loki decided to pay Earth a visit and now, they had power, and numbers stacked against the Avengers. There wouldn’t be many if any people staying home this time.

  “Please, don’t go.” You whispered through the dark. You knew it was pointless to ask but you had to try. “You know I have to.” Bucky whispered back.  You had been in a relationship with Bucky ever since you were assigned as his rehab doctor. You spent months and months, patient every time, trying to get him to talk, adjust.

Keep reading

Hint.

You are a dying star.