Bucky Barnes and Sebastian Stan imagines {x reader}

1476 (sneak peek) - Bucky Barnes

Edit (PLEASE READ):
I've decided I'm going to turn this into a book. I actually really like the idea and so this will be like an introduction/sneak peek into the book.

Warning: Language (if you know Italian), fighting, (a lot of stuff is in Italian but it's easy to understand)

Prompt: Years after defeating Thanos, with the loss of friends and family. Bucky and Sam had become the new faces of the Avengers, along with a few others... But rest never came quickly, and never lasted long. During that time, HYDRA had begun to return, but by an Italian leader who trained his assassins in the ways of his ancestors, assassins from the Italian Renaissance. To defeat them, Bucky had to carefully bend the laws of the timeline to succeed with a helping hand.

A/N: I was heavily inspired by one of my most favourite games, Assassins Creed II. So uhhhh 👌👌 enjoy.

DISCLAIMER

I don't speak Italian, so if there is anything incorrect in Italian... blame Google!

-x-

The rooftops were quieter than the streets of Venezia (Venice). Not many militia guards came up here, but when they did... I was the last thing they would see.

I sat against a taller building's wall waiting for my brother to return, he didn't tell me where he was going but he told me to wait. And so I'm waiting and waiting... and waiting.

Hearing shuffling on the tiles of the hot roof, I assume it's my brother, Ezio. Standing up I peak over the wall I was leaning against to see a strange man collapse. At first, I thought it was a thief, but the more I watched him the more I realised he was not from Venice.

Climbing up the wall and onto the higher roof, I sprint towards him. He looks up at me and I see confusion in his cloudy blue eyes. His square face was slightly covered by his shoulder-length, dark brown hair. His left hand sparkled in the summer sun, catching my attention.

"Tu chi sei? (Who are you?)" I ask seriously, hiding my hand behind my back I held tightly onto my dagger that was strapped to my belt. He stared into my eyes, searching for answers I couldn't give him. Maybe my brother would know where he's from.

"Y/N!"

Speak of the devil.

"Ezio." I turn around to see him sprinting towards me once he saw the strange man on the ground. His eyes grew dark under his hood, and I stepped in front of him before he made any harsh decisions. "Non ha fatto niente. Sai da dove viene? (He didn't do anything. Do you know where he's from?)" I whisper to my older—overprotective—brother as he glared daggers into the stranger.

He examined the man from the spot I stopped him in, "Non lo conosco, o da dove viene. (I don't know him, or where he's from.)" Ezio didn't move his eyes away from the man.

Turning around I watch him stand up cautiously. "I don't want to hurt you." He says with his hands out. He spoke English, very good English... his accent strong and sharp.

"What's that." I nod my head at his shiny hand—attempting to speak in English that my mother made me learn as a child—he tried to answer me but stumbled on his words.

"She asked you a question." Ezio steps forward, he was taller than me, with a bigger and stronger build. But the man standing in front of us was just slightly a bigger build than my brother who's feared by the largest men in Italy.

"It's my hand." His breath hitched in his throat, causing his voice to crack and turn into a whisper.

"Why are you in Venezia?" Ezio asks, his accent sounding thicker the more I hear the man's.