Not a choice Pt.1 Pairings | Bucky Barnes x f!reader Warnings | swearing Word count | 400 Summary | when your brother, Steve Rogers, left you and everyone else for Peggy, the government appointed his replacement. After seeing an interview on TV, where you and John announced your relationship, Bucky isn't happy.
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"What the fuck were you thinking, y/n!?" Bucky swore, face red with bubbling rage as he stared you down with those now-icy, cerulean eyes. You swallowed, thick and unsure as his gaze pierced through you like a needle, impaling you with your own guilt.
"Bucky, I-" your voice is heavy, weighed down by your own actions as your throat runs dry and your words disintegrate like paper over your sandpaper tongue.
"Steve left, okay? I get it, it hurts! It feels like I've been stabbed, but just because he's gone doesn't mean you...you..." Bucky's words are twisted with anger, his strained sentences coming out in strings of outrage. "But Steve would have never approved of John fucking Walker, y/n! I mean come on, doll, the 'new captain America'?" His fingers curl into air quotes around the title, metal and flesh alike.
Your head is bowed, dread clenching your stomach in its fist as his fury washes over you like a wave. A crashing, violent wave.
"I expected better, Steve would expect better." Bucky concluded with a sigh, hands finding purchases on his hips as he chastises you.
"You think just because you're my brother's fucking best friend you're entitled to tell me what to do? No way, Bucky. No way. So get his goddamned name out of your mouth before I replace it with my fist." You finally snap, head shaking side to side with your blatant disapproval.
You hoped off the counter you had been sat up on, aiming to shoulder past Bucky when he caught you arm in his hand. Neither of you made an effort to move from where you stood, the super soldier's head merely tilting to face you ever-so-slightly.
"I just need to know why." His voice cracked. You sighed deeply.
"I never said I was given a choice." You admitted before yanking your arm away from him. Dragging your feet, you headed to the door with the sinking feeling of dark curiosity hanging between you so thick it could be sliced by one of the knives Bucky almost certainly had on him.
