Captain America and Bucky Barnes Imagines

81. BUCKY: Dear Diary

A/N: This was a dialogue request by BuckysGirl42! The request was for a Bucky imagine with prompts 11 and 12 ("Did I really just say that out loud?" and "There's nothing worse in this world than the sight I had to wake up to today"). Thank you so much for requesting! And to everyone else who requested, I'm working on those right now! They'll be up soon :)

Lots of love!

Winnie

Words: 4.5K

Warnings: Language, suggestive themes

           

Thursday, March 15th

Dear Diary,

I don't fuckin' know how Bucky Barnes convinced me to start writing in this damn thing. It was a Christmas present, the journal I mean, and it's taken me MONTHS to finally crack it open. He tells me that it'll help me "cope" and "stop being so much like an angst-riddled teenager" despite the fact that I'm a perfectly functioning twenty-three year old woman. I've never been one to turn down a gift, but when he gave me this damn diary I came very close to chucking it back at his stupid head. Despite my reservations, Bucky's finally convinced me to give "journaling" a try. He says that it's helped him through it all: the post-Hydra healing, drama of Civil War, and all of our time hidden away from the Avengers Team. You read that right: we're hiding from the Avengers, the very same team that Steve Rogers and I were on together with Stark, Romanoff, and the others. After Civil War we were forced into hiding. Now, after Bucky's quick nap and reconstruction by T'Challa's team, we're taking a little "break". Our break consists of living in the real world, apparently, where no one will recognize us. So that brings us here to a little three bedroom house in the outskirts of rural England where no one gives a shit about Captain America or his two weird best friends (that'd be me and Bucky) and the young girl with the odd accent. Our neighbors only know us by our first names, and they only stop by occasionally to complain when Bucky parks his motorcycle on the wrong side of the street.

Anyway, that's the most important part of the story. There's a lot more: how I joined the team at 18 after a fall out of a tree knocked me in the head and gave me weird telekinetic abilities, the story about how I almost died at the hands of a robot called Ultron, how I drunkenly got matching tattoos with Tony Stark on my ass, the time I had sex with the God of Thunder and never talked about it again, how I chose to fight alongside Steve during the war and had to leave the rest of my life behind, and plenty of other wild tales.

According to Bucky Barnes, this journal is the perfect place to go through all of that.

Right now I'm in the upstairs bedroom that I share with Wanda. We got the master suite with the bathroom and big closet when we moved in a few months ago. The girl has a normal sized mattress that she likes to keep on the floor while I prefer the loft bed up near the ceiling. It's my turn to pick the Pandora station, so I've got it on 80s classics. Wanda isn't complaining: she loves my tunes.

Someone who IS complaining though is Steve. He's trying to take a nap or something, I don't know, because he's blowing up my phone with texts telling me to "turn that damn racket down". I'm pretending that the music is too loud to hear the notifications.

I think it might be noon. Ah, yes. I just checked. It's 12:30 in the afternoon. Steve's just cranky because he doesn't let himself sleep in and relax like the rest of us do. He gets up every morning at 4 to go on a run and work out in the backyard. I think he's crazy, but what can ya do?

"What are you doing up there, Y/N? You're too quiet," Wanda laughs.

"Writing in this stupid journal thing that Buck gave me." I hold it up for her to see.