Sebastian Stan & Bucky Barnes Imagines

Neighbors: Part Two - J.B.B.

°•° Here is Part Two of one I did a couple months ago called Neighbors. This is by request of BlushPandora. And, because of the insane length I would have to make this one for it to wrap up in some decent way, I AM GOING TO BE MAKING MORE PARTS. How many more just depends on what happens. It may be two or three more, but I'm not counting on more than that. There's just so much story line and so few ways to move it along quickly all while making it good. So this is what it will end up being. Not that I'm complaining. This will be a challenge, yes, but a fun challenge. 😉 I would also like to apologize up front for all the translating required for this series. 😂 It's just how it's gonna be. I'm sorry if that bothers you, I could see where it would be bothersome, but at least I've put the translation next to the sentences in Romanian so hopefully that will help. Now, without further adieu, on to part two. Hope it's not too long for you and that you enjoy it! Don't forget to let me know what you think! 😁😉 °•°

You've been sitting idly in an empty room, chained to a desk, waiting for someone to tell you what's going to happen to you, for an hour now, maybe longer. Your eyes follow another person that passes by the large window in front of you that allows you to see into the hallway. You haven't seen Bucky in two hours. You've been a little more worried ever since they separated the two of you. You wonder how long you'll be in here alone, although, you're not sure if you really want them to come. There's no telling what they will do with you. To distract yourself, you fiddle with the long chain that keeps your handcuffs chained to the desk.

A minute later, the door handle unlatching has you looking up. A brown-haired man with wire-framed glasses walks in and glances at you before closing the door and taking a seat in the chair opposite you across the table.

"So, Ms. Y/last/n, this is your first run-in with the law, is it? We don't have anything on you. You must either be really good at hiding your illicit work or you're just a woman who cares a lot about the wrong kind of guy. I have to say I'm leaning more towards the latter. Am I right?"

You stare at him blankly. How are you supposed to answer? You don't even know what he said. He stares at you for a second before leaning his head forward as if expecting an answer. You glance around with your eyes a few directions before returning them to his face. A look of realization gradually passes over his features.

"You don't speak English, do you."

"Te rog, nu știu ce spui." ("Please, I don't know what you're saying.")

"Of course you don't," he mumbles to himself, running a hand through his hair. "Well that makes things harder. Now I have to get a translator. That could take days." The man gets out of his chair and goes to the door, looking somewhat exasperated. He turns to you and opens his mouth to say something before waving it off and walking out the door.

You sit there for a while longer, maybe twenty minutes, you can't really tell. Your anxiety is at a lower level, almost gone since no one is here. That is, until the lights go out and red flashing ones replace them. You whirl your head around the room then look outside at the hallway. Nobody is nearby. There's no way for you to know what's going on. Surely, if something was wrong, they would come and get you. Wouldn't they? A few more minutes go by with not so much as one person passing by.

Apparently they wouldn't.

Suddenly, a group of people comes running by your window all dressed in black combat gear. You get up out of your chair and lean over the table to see where they are going but aren't able to see far enough for anything of consequence. You move around the table to see more but before you can even get to the other side, you're halted by the handcuffs and chain. It rubs against your tender skin but you don't look down at your wrists. You continue to look after the people but they are already out of sight. You look around the hall a little more when another, bigger group of people with tactical gear on, comes running down the hallway the same direction.