Writing Experiments

Colorful buds started to bloom, peeking out of the frost, and as they started to bloom, so did her smiles. Now they were more frequent, and she often smiled at the baby blooms, whispering encouraging words to them, as if they’d grow faster. As if they could listen. Though Bucky couldn’t always listen, he wished he could. Though her whispers of support and kindness weren’t directed to him, whatever he did hear, he would take to heart. Words of encouragement like “Oh, little love, I know you can do it” would ring in his ears on various missions, and “there’s no need to rush, finish your work at your own pace” could be heard echoing in his mind during training. But the one he always heard, even while simply laying in bed, was the one he wanted her to say to him directly. “I’m so proud of you, of your growth.

 I love you.”

April

The rain was deafening today. The storm was still brewing, with thunder calling from far away, rumbling softly in the distance. And even through the wet weather, she stayed dry with her sunny disposition. He watched from above, his room’s window giving him the best view he could ask for; her dancing in the rain. She wore an oversized rain jacket, and lounge pants she had received from Sam for Christmas, and was currently splashing with Peter in the rain. With her colorful rain boots contrasting with the gray backyard porch, and with Peter dancing around goofily, a smile plastered on his face, Bucky could only look down at the sight and smile softly in content.

May

It was now or never. Here she was, staring up into his eyes- his eyes that had seen murder, death, and war -and yet here she was, waiting with bated breath. She’d been hurt on a mission, nothing too terrible, just a fractured wrist, but yet Bucky couldn’t help but worry, and fuss over her while she healed. He helped cut her food, brush her hair, and type up long reports. She must have caught on to his nursing behavior, because here she was, her ethereal body waiting in patience, after asking a simple yet demanding question: “What’s going on with you?” With a sigh of defeat, and brave face shown, Bucky simply bows his head in slight shame and mutters “I like you, okay?” 

He wasn’t expecting her to smile.

He wasn’t expecting her to kiss him softly.

But who was he to expect something from an angel?

June 

Here she lay, under the bright sun. Her hair splayed out like a halo around her head, her summer dress fanned out on the greening grass, Bucky is reduced to merely smiling once more. His back is against a tree, his hand, his real hand interlaced with one of hers. Though this must not be enough, for soon she’s pushing off the ground, and settles into a new position: sitting in his lap. She tentatively grabs both his hands and wraps his arms around herself, pressing her back into his chest. Bucky freezes at first, not wanting to hurt her with his metal arm, the one he hates, the one that brings destruction, yet is relieved when she kisses it lightly, and he takes the opportunity to put his head on her shoulder, to kiss her cheek in innocent adoration. “You are the Jewel of June” he mumbles into her ear, inhaling her coconut scented hair, and her sunscreen kissed skin. “And you, the heliodor of my heart.” She sighs back, a look of love plastered on her face.

July

It is unbearably hot. The compound has the A/C on blast, yet Bucky feels his hair sticking to his neck, the sweltering heat becoming rudely relentless. He tries to cool down by spreading out in the bed, with no luck. But then she comes in, floating into his- no, their -room with a small laundry basket, and suddenly, it feels like he can breathe with ease again. “Though I love calling you honey, you don’t need to be as sticky as it.” She says with a playful smile, her laugh reverberating in the room. He can only smirk in reply, and watches as she starts to fold their laundry. “Barnes, are you going to help me fold, or are you going to keep drooling?” She teases, her eyes meeting his. “I’ll do both, doll” he remarks as he gets up to help.

August

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He just wanted her to be safe. But she took it the wrong way. He said it the wrong way. He knew the second he said it, the second the “stay here” passed his lips, he’d messed up. Instantly her eyes shone with hurt, the sting of betrayal evident on her face. “I am not made of glass, James.” She seethed quietly, while calm and fiery red waves of anger rolled from her aura, her face set in hardening pain. She shoved him off with a grimace, and stalked off to the jet. The mission was noisy, but it was nothing compared to her deafening silence for Bucky. As they fought, she controlled her rage into killing enemies recklessly, throwing herself into the crossfire. His heart sank as he watched her from his peripherals, and anxious acid burned in his stomach.

How could he ever recover from this?

September

The chill of autumn started to waft into the weather, coaxing Bucky to linger outside, instead of staying behind glass windows. They had made up recently, too tired to keep fighting, and to exhausted in their equal endeavors to avoid the elephant in the room. It had taken a lot of patience from both of them, as they laid out their feelings like dealt cards on a table. Bucky learned that he can be overbearing, and she learned that he only did it out of love. Through compromise and communication, they healed and now sat, side by side on the top of Stark’s Tower, peering down to the bustling night traffic of the City that Never Sleeps. The cool autumn breeze now blows gently through her hair, and Bucky notices not only that she’s changed her shampoo scent from coconut to apple, but that her chapstick as changed as well, from cherry to caramel creme.

October

She was always beautiful to him, and he never knew just how beautiful she could get. It seemed like every day, her skin grew more radiant, and her eyes shone even more. But now, right now, Bucky cannot breathe. 

She’s usually his breath of fresh air in a room, his saving grace and his life, but now she stands before him, and he finds that her beauty is breathtakingly deadly. She’s clad in a floor-length, wine colored gown, with a plunging neckline that just barely lets her cleavage peek out from the luscious fabric. The bodice and gown is rather plain, with small crystals adorning the bottom trim, and- as Bucky now sees as she turns -the back detailing. He tries to collect his breathing and stay calm, but how can he? Here she was, his girl, his angel on Earth, with a look that would put Aphrodite herself to shame, and he’s supposed to stay calm and collected? There was no way. He watched her and Natasha laugh, and descend the stairs to the Halloween party. He knows it’s her, though she has a silver mask delicately balanced on her face, and he can only wait at the bottom of the stairs for her to descend to him. He knows her by her body, by her hair, her smile, hell, he knows her solely by her aura, and as he stands at the bottom of the stairs, watching her descend as if from Heaven to him, Bucky realizes that he will never get used to her beauty.

November

The November Rain was cold and fresh on their faces. They laid on the now wet blanket, a simple picnic in disarray due to the coming winter storm. The rain pelts the area around them, yet Bucky doesn’t feel the chilling sting of the icy drops. Instead, he feels his girl and her warmth seep into his skin, and into his bones. “Baby, we’re going to get sick, you know.” She hums against his chest, cuddling into him for warmth. “Mmm, but then you know, we get sick days together.” Bucky remarks, chuckling at the thought. His mind wanders to the idea of them both sniffling, under cotton covers, with a fleece blanket on top. No doubt she’ll be snuggled into him, and he, propped up to breathe, will support her and kiss her hairline as she dozes off. Even being sick sounds like heaven with her, Bucky realizes, and it is in this moment, in the freezing and cold November rain, with now frost-tipped grass, that he realizes

She’s the one.

December

Christmas lights twinkle and glint in every room. Tony always likes to decorate with elaborate detail, and Peter and Sam always bicker over who gets to do what. This year, lights are strung by strong spiderwebs, while ornaments and tinsel of red and silver adorn the gigantic pine tree. Tony and Steve had picked out the tree this year, and found it to be a tight squeeze into the huge compound, the tip of the tree just barely scratching the ceiling surface. And yet, even through all the chaos, the mess of dry and fallen pine needles, the glittering shards of dropped ornaments (which was all Peter’s fault, according to Sam), and the new hot cocoa stains bleeding into Stark’s favorite couch, Bucky can only seem to focus on her. She laughs more during this time of year, he notices, and she seems to emit an even happier and joyful energy, which he didn’t think was possible. As everyone sits around the tree and the roaring fireplace Tony installed, Bucky only has eyes for his girl. Even when Natasha laughs at the joke gift Clint got her, and even when Wanda uses her magic to hit him lightly on the head to get his attention, he always ends up looking at her. “James”, she whispers, handing him a small box wrapped in silver paper with a light creme bow, “This one’s for you. I know you said you didn’t want anything, but I saw it and thought of you.” She says with a hopeful smile. Bucky stares at the small box, and tentatively peels off the shiny paper. Inside the box, under a small sheet of white gift paper, lies a star. A gold star, to be exact, and the weight of the metal is heavy even when held in his metal arm. “I know the red paint of your star may be gone from your arm, but, you’re a part of us now.” She says softly, as Bucky merely eyes the glinting decoration. “This way you can still represent us, and Steve especially, without completely re-forging your arm.”  Bucky looks to her, with a grateful smile on his face. Never in his life did he think he would be so grateful, for now, as everyone nods in agreement, he knows he has a new family, and now he knows he is home.

“Bucky, honestly, you didn’t need to get me anything else!” She scolds lightly, slapping his arm in mock anger. “I know Doll, I heard you loud and clear.” He rumbles, kissing her forehead lightly. “But I saw this and thought of you.” He says with a knowing smirk, echoing your previous words. By now, the fire had dimmed down to burning embers, and everyone was either asleep, or in the dining room, discussing to Peter all the new rules for his brand new spider suit. (A gift from Tony, of course). But here Bucky has pulled his angel away from the crowd, asking for a quick kiss and a quick word. “Oh James, I should’ve known you were going to use my words against me someday.”  She mutters, while shaking her head with a soft laugh. “It won’t be the last time, you know.” Bucky warns her, and she looks up to him, a smile of understanding thrown to him in response. He holds her hand, and feels his heartbeat pick up speed. “Just do it, you know she’s the one.” He thinks to himself with hope. With another brave face, and a breath held in anticipation, James Buchanan Barnes gets down on one knee.

He wasn’t expecting you to cry.

He wasn’t expecting you to kiss him before breathing out “yes”.

But yet again, 

At first you didn’t understand, as it was just... weaving? But after Tony explained how Hydra had a habit of tracking unusual or unEarthly powers and phenomena, and how your incantations would easily expose you, you sighed and reluctantly turned in all your threads, your loom, scissors, and your book.

So now you walk around the compound, aimlessly and mindlessly, trying to busy yourself with steps and the same sights from the glass windows. Wanda walked beside you, occasionally trying to create small talk. But as much as she tried, you just didn’t feel like talking. In fact, you didn’t feel like walking. All you wanted to do was weave. You missed the feeling of your magic humming through your fingers, vibrating within the fibers of your threads, and you so desperately wanted to make yourself a new bracelet. But you complied to Tony’s excessive badgering, and now you would simply have to wait.

“____, I think you should sit down. You’ve been walking around for the past three hours.” Wanda suggests, lightly gesturing to a couch. “I know Wanda, but I would rather not. You, however, are free to sit whenever you feel like it.” You reply, keeping your gaze towards the windows. “____, you know I cannot do that, even if I wanted to.” Wanda sighs with a soft laugh, following you to the windows. “You have so many thoughts on your mind,” she mutters, and you finally turn your head to her. “Could you help me silence some of them?” You ask quietly, hoping she got the hint. “As much as I’d like to, I cannot get your weaving supplies. But I think I could help take care of some of your more… underlying thoughts.” She says, kindness and knowing flickering through your eyes.

You creep through the hallways with her, more silent than a mouse. You weren’t supposed to be on this side of the Tower, these hallways had been closed off to you so Stark could keep an eye on you with little camera-effort. But now was not the time to worry about Tony freaking out about not seeing you on a screen, as you kept stalking through the forbidden halls, wondering where Wanda was taking you.

She gestures for you to stop at a random door. You shoot her a puzzled look, and with a sarcastic roll of her eyes, she uses her magic to unlock the door, opens it, and quickly shoves you inside.