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afewmarvelousthoughts · 6 years ago

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Truth Pt. 11

Truth Master List

Request:

What’s up sug! sorry you’re struggling right now but I’ve come to help you If you could bring this to light for me I’d absolutely love for YOU TO DO JT So basically Bucky X Enhanced reader who are fuckin enemies. Hate each other to every last fiber of their beings bc Bucky is rude and she calls him out on it. AnywHs, they get drunk, truth or dare (go crZy baby) and LOTS LF dirty talk if u wanna do smut but if u don’t then buck taking care of her while she’s drunk cause she admitted her feelings

Pairing: Bucky X Reader (Enhanced)

Summary: Since The Avengers gave you a home the only blight has been Bucky Barnes, a ghost from your past that you can’t seem to shake. It makes you hate him. The feeling, it seems, is mutual. But… a simple game reveals that maybe things aren’t quite so simple. (Post Winter Soldier AU)

Warnings: Feels, mentions of addiction, violence

A/N: HELLO MY DARLING PRECIOUS PATIENT PUMPKINS! Did you miss these two? I know I did. This starts off domestic and then veers into like two-three completely different territories. It’s a ride that’s for sure.

I hope y’all like it!

Tags are open!

@midnightdream83 @mywinterwolf @disagreetoagree @breezy1415 @peachthatdrinkslemonade @wonderlandmind4 @piensa-bonito @handplucked @buckysstar @sam-jae @marauderconvos –harder @for-the-love-of-the-fandom @meg-asaur @jewelofwinter @fairislesheets @animegirlgeeky @lydklein1 @katecolleen @siriuslycloudy2 @zannemes

He stills your hands with his. Your eyes meet his, tears sneaking down your cheeks. He wipes them away.

“You keep your memories displayed… I shove mine in a box under my bed…”

When you had pulled all of this out you were on the verge of completely melting down. Days without sleep, hardly eating, seeing that woman’s face over and over again, the flashbacks… You wanted to remember what you were before you became a monster.

It only served to remind you of everything you lost. That’s when you’d gone to the gym when Bucky found you… You’d forgotten your misguided attempt to keep yourself together until there it was spread on your unmade bed.

There wasn’t much. Your family hadn’t been big on photos, just a few posed pictures, school photos, some holidays. But you loved photos… A grotesque amount of polaroids of your friends… people whose names you forgot or who were possibly long gone… at shows, parties, on the street. Glazed eyes, leather jackets, cigarettes hanging between smudged lips are spread out.

Maybe the names alluded you for some but you could smell the sweat, the smoke, the whiskey. Faded flyers from underground shows at Safari Club and other D.C. and East Coast punk venues add pops of color to the mix. A few misbegotten AA coins peak out to remind you of wasted time.

You pick one up as he looks over at a photo of 15-year-old you standing stiffly between your parents in front of a Christmas tree. Your expression annoyed, kohl heavily lining your eyes, hair bleached within an inch of its life and huge.

“Is this you?!” A smile curls his lips and you almost laugh.

“Yeah, don’t judge me too much… it was the 80’s.” You flip the coin in the air and catch it. “Probably the last Christmas I spent sober.”

His brow knits and you sigh. “Hi, my name is Y/N, I’m a cocaine addict… and an alcoholic... and… you get the gist.” You toss the coin at him. He looks it over. “Nine months… as long as I ever got.” Picking up the photo of you and your parents you feel your chest tighten.

“She wanted me to be perfect. Her pride. Pushed me to be the best at everything. I was a nationally ranked athlete, excelled in everything from cross-country to martial arts, incredible at any art she threw at me, damn near a genius, graduated high school at 15, got into every Ivy League school…”

Setting it aside you pick up a photo of you and someone who’s name you do remember, Dana, your first girlfriend. “I was even excellent at being a drug addict, never OD’d, high tolerance… Others weren’t so lucky.” You toss the photo aside, not wanting to linger.

Bucky takes your hand, lacing his fingers through your own. “Who kept these for you? Family?”

“I don’t have any family.”

“But… anyone? I mean… you’re so young?”

You snort, “Is 47 young?” Jesus, you were almost 50… such a strange thought.

“Well,” he laughs a small empty sound, “in comparison.”

You nod conceding. “My Mom… she lost her family in the war… in the camps,” you can’t look at Bucky. “Dad was an only child. Fury kept them tucked away in a storage locker at S.H.I.E.L.D. after…”

He nods, “He knew your father didn’t he?”

“Yeah, they worked together…” You release his hand and push through photos to find your favorite of you and your Dad. It was from that nine-month stint of sobriety, he’d been so happy that you’d been doing well that on your 20th birthday he took you to Paris. His smile was so bright… your hand trembles a bit.

“You look happy here,” Bucky rests his cool left hand on your bouncing knee as he looks at you and your Dad, posed in typical cheesy tourist fashion in front of the Eiffel Tower.

“I was… we were…” Your voice cracks. “I never knew what he did… just thought he was some low-level diplomat, never questioned it… I don’t even know that Mom knew…”

“Was she here?”

“God no,” your eyes slide shut for a moment, remembering. “She was hardly speaking to me… I was a disappointment.”

“She didn’t…”

“Tell me that? Oh yes.” You hold up a hand as he opens his mouth, “I don’t know that she was wrong. I… I did everything I could to be the opposite of what she wanted me to be. I doused her American Dream in gasoline and set it on fire…”

“Still you’re not-”

You shrug, “Doesn’t matter. I… never got to prove otherwise.” Your eyes scan your memories, hazy and painful as most of them were.

“They killed her, ya know? Hydra…”

He gives your knee a gentle squeeze, “I assumed.”

“After my last go at rehab… I really thought… I was going to be better, I wanted to be better. Go to school, live my life, make her proud. They took that away… left her bloody on the kitchen floor.” Your skin tingles, energy pulsing through you.

“I… what about your Dad?” The look on his face is pained like he doesn’t want to ask but feels like he must.

“He killed himself.” You shake your head, “At least that’s what the official report says. “Makes sense though… wife dead, daughter missing, all because you were getting a little too close.” Glancing over at his smiling face a tear slides down your cheek, “Who could blame him?”

A small sob trips over your lips and Bucky pulls you into him. Surprising yourself still, you allow him to comfort you and allow yourself to feel this… to mourn them even a little.

Ever since being here you had tried to bury the guilt and the grief. Thinking about the void they left in you, the years you wasted, the final image of her… dead for days collapsed by the back door… It was too much. You couldn’t help but think that maybe if you’d been there, instead of in rehab, you could have saved her… even though you knew the ending would have been the same.

After a bit your sobs quiet. He’s leaned against the headboard, you’re curled into his arms, the steady beat of his heart soothing. When you look up at him his eyes are so soft, warm despite the cool color. The feeling of his fingers gently grazing your skin as he pushes stray strands of hair from your face sends shivers through you.

“Sorry…”

He smiles, “For what? Having feelings?” You shrug a little. “Well if you want to make it up to me,” he reaches across the bed a bit and grabs a picture of you sporting a particularly heinous head of Aquanet enforced hair looking like some combo of Cindy Lauper and a Clash groupie, “explain this.”

You can’t help but laugh and agree to explain your questionable fashion choices.

The rest of the day is spent intermittently cleaning your apartment and telling Bucky what you remember of who you once were. The good, the bad, and the ugly. He listens and most importantly doesn’t judge.

When you put on some music from your own youth he's not too pleased. It was safe to say that bands such as Bad Religion and Misfits were maybe not his speed. However, he’s much more in tune with Led Zeppelin, The Rolling Stones, and surprisingly The Runaways.

“I’d say you’ll pass inspection,” Bucky says as he puts your mop in the closet.

“Definitely.” You look around and feel oddly sad. His place really was so much warmer than yours. It felt like someone actually lived there, rather than just existing.

“What’s wrong?” Your face must be showing your disdain.

“Nothing,” you flash him a smile. “So… got any dinner plans?”

The smile that lights up his face takes your breath away, “None.” He grabs your waist and pulls you close to kiss you.

“How about I cook? Your place?”

“You cook?”

“I mean, I’m no Julia Child but I can promise it will be better than those packaged meals in your fridge.”

He laughs, “I’ll take your word for it.” You grab some things from your own kitchen and a change of clothes, which he doesn’t even question before you both head down to his place.

Five days later Bucky watches you slip into a pair of leggings as he sips his coffee.

“Are you sure you can’t even have some coffee?”

You roll your eyes, “I’m sure, 12 hours fasting for the tests.”

“You don’t have-” You cut him off with a glare. “Fine. But if you decide you want me there-”

“I’ll call. I promise.” You toss on a tee and a cardigan.

He looks away, chewing on his bottom lip. “Hey,” you pluck the coffee from his hands and set it on the nightstand, “I’ll be ok, Buck.” Cupping his face in your hands you place a kiss on his lips. He can feel his heart stutter just a touch, he wonders if it will ever go away. You release him and he buries his face in your chest, breathing in your now familiar scent.

When he lifts his head your smile makes his breath catch. “I’ll be back in a few hours.” Your soft lips press against his forehead. All he can do is nod.

As soon as the door closes he feels himself wilt a bit, anxiety rising with each passing moment. He wants to believe you but he knows they could accidentally trigger something in you. Be it a memory or a reaction with your power, either could have horrible consequences.

After almost an hour of running worst case scenarios, he can’t stay here anymore. He tosses on some gym clothes and texts Steve to see if he’s free to train. Bucky’s already to the gym when he gets a response of ‘No, sorry pal.’

Sighing he turns around and heads to the shooting range. Clint is already there, experimenting with some new arrows Tony whipped up for him. While Bucky usually prefers to be here alone, he doesn’t necessarily mind Clint. He’s a fellow sniper after all and doesn’t ever seem to want to force Bucky into conversations he’d rather not have.

The two men shoot in silence for a little more than an hour before Clint pipes up. “So, you and Y/N seem to have taken a turn for the better.” He’s taken up the spot next to Bucky under the pretense of changing his angle.

“What of it?” He may like Clint but the thought of sharing details of his private life isn’t high on his to-do list.

“Nothing. I think it’s great.”

“Yeah, you and Romanoff seemed to have an opinion the other day.” Bucky’s tone is gruff remembering Clint’s quip about her owing him.

He laughs, “Just a good-natured bet. I saw the chemistry between you two.” Bucky doesn’t respond. Some mix of anger and embarrassment blooming in his chest.

“Look, man,” Clint has stepped out of his booth and is leaning on the wall between them, “people like us should take any chance at love we can and run with it. It’s rare enough for civilians and most of them don’t spend their free time getting shot at.”

The tone in his voice drips with sincerity and Bucky can’t help but look back at him, the glare quickly melting off his face. “Who said anything about love?”

Clint shakes his head smiling, “You’ll be one lucky bastard if it ends up being that Barnes. Even if it doesn’t, friends are worth a whole hell of a lot too.” He claps a hand on Bucky’s metal shoulder, “As soldiers, it’s sometimes hard to allow ourselves to be happy. You deserve it. Promise.” Bucky says nothing for a minute and Clint nods, walking away.

“Thank you,” Bucky’s tone is low, sort of unsure. He does mean it though…

“You got-”

“Sargent Barnes and Agent Barton, you’re both needed in Mr. Stark’s lab immediately.” Jarvis’ voice cuts Clint off and Bucky feels the blood drain from his face. The two men hold one another’s gaze for a fraction of a second, a flood of emotion and information being exchanged in that one fleeting moment, before sprinting to the elevator.

When they burst out of the elevator they’re met by Steve and Natasha. Everything seems fine, nothing is on fire or blown to bits so that has to be a good sign. Still, as soon as he’s got eyes on you nothing could keep him back.

You’re sitting in a chair, wires stuck to you all over leading to a computer, tendrils of white light pulsing beneath your skin. “Y/N?!”

“Hey! I’m fine,” his hands are lightly grazing your body where the wires touch you, eyes frantically searching your own for any signs of distress. “Really, Bucky, I’m fine.”

You do seem ok. He wishes he was. His heart is thundering, muscles tense, ready and willing to do whatever he needed to keep you safe. Taking a shaky breath he rests his forehead on yours, trying to calm himself.

“Sorry if we scared you, Manchurian.” Tony quips from beside the computer as he pops a baby carrot in his mouth. Bucky shoots daggers at him.

“They were able to get a lock on the specific energy signature I emit pretty quick and scan for it. We found a match.” His eyes shoot back to you, unsure if you’re glad they found something or not.

“Well,” Bruce pipes up from another monitor, “near enough anyway. Too close to her unique signature to be a coincidence.”

“Another base?” Natasha asks from behind Bucky, who’s still kneeling in front of you, unable to move away.

“That’s what we were hoping you and Clint could clear up for us,” Tony flicks some images up so everyone can see the area they narrowed the signal down to.

Your eyes dart between the two and Bucky finally looks back. The map shows a spot just outside of Cleveland. Yet another nondescript building, nothing that says den of torture about it at all. Clint and Natasha exchange a look.

“Yeah,” she holds a finger to her lips for a minute thinking. “We may have something on this, didn’t seem like much so it’s low on the list.”

“Well, it’s top priority now.” Bucky doesn’t like the tone in Steve’s voice. It’s the one he gets when he’s going to do whatever bullheaded thing he has in mind no matter the consequences.

He sees you nod in his peripheral. “When’s the soonest we can head out?”

Bucky’s glare shoots back to you. “Absolutely not!”

You raise an eyebrow at him. “Excuse me?”

“You’re not doing this.” His tone is just as stubborn as Steve’s, if not a bit more so.

You scoff, “Oh? I’m not?”

“No. You are not.”

“I hate to break it to you but you don’t get to tell me what I am and am not going to do, Bucky.” Your eyes darken just a touch as the air around you dips just a touch toward cool.

“After last time you really think this is a good idea, Y/N?!”

“No. But I’m the only one who can properly handle these assets if they attack. I’m the only one who understands even a little how this energy functions. I’m the only one-”

He can’t believe this. “So you’re just gonna throw yourself back into that?! After what almost… after… Y/N you’re being-”

“I’m doing what needs to be done. I cannot in good consciousness allow this to pass unchecked. Too many people are at risk if-”

“This isn’t a negotiation!” He bellows. “You’re my-”

“I don’t give a damn what I am to you or you to me.” It feels like you punched him in the chest. “You don’t give me orders, Barnes.”

When you look away from him to Natasha the dismissal is clear. “There’s some good surveillance footage of the area from local businesses security and traffic cams. Should be enough to establish patterns. After last time we know trying to scan is a lost cause.”

Bucky feels his rage prickle under his skin. You don’t look back to him when you’re done. Huffing he stands and stalks to the elevator, unable to be a part of this ill-begotten plan a moment longer.

“You know he’s coming right?” Natasha’s tone is light but she knows her words are heavy.

“Yeah.” You clip the stabilizer cuffs Tony made for you onto your belt. They were just a prototype and only to be used if you felt like you were about to lose it but they still felt strangely comforting to have. Nothing like the comfort you’d felt with Bucky… who you hadn’t seen in three days.

“Assuming you still haven’t spoken to him?”

“Not much to say.” You don’t want to have this conversation now.

“That’s bullshit.” She slips her Widow’s Bites on.

You shrug, “No. You heard how he spoke to me. In front of everyone. Like I was a fucking child like he could just say no and I’d say yessir.”

“He’s from a different time, Y/N.”

“I don’t give a fuck. It’s not 1945.” You slam your gear locker closed. “Plus, not like he’s spoken to me either.”

You barely catch a glimpse of him before he gets on the jet. Grinding your teeth you hang back for just a second.

“Need me to whoop his ass,” Sam says from behind you.

“That is not a fight I’d care to see.” You sigh, “But no. Just think we got ahead of ourselves is all.”

“Well,” he slings an arm over your shoulder, “you’ve still got me, kid.”

You laugh, “You do remember that I’m older than you right?”

“Psh, age is just a number. I got one of them old souls”

As usual Sam’s ridiculousness puts a smile on your face and by the time the two of you are boarding the jet you’re cackling. That all fades the moment you feel Bucky’s stare. Steeling yourself for the uncomfortable mission ahead you keep your eyes averted and your mind on the prize.

Things have gone smoothly for the most part. Some minor scuffles, every computer has been beyond destroyed, and no files that tell you a goddamn thing to be found but less than an hour into the mission and it seems this will be in and out. You’re not even sensing any of the telltale energy like you did last time.

You’ve all spread out a bit to try and wrap this up quickly since it all appears quiet. The area you’ve chosen is just about clear, or so you think. There’s the slightest whoosh in the air before you feel a blade nestle itself in your back.

“Fuck!” You scream as you stagger in pain and surprise. Just barely you can hear Bucky’s voice call out in the com as a foot crashes into your jaw.

It takes you a second but you get your bearings and land a blow to the asset’s abdomen. “I’m good!” No need for anyone to run to your aid when you don’t need it.

You focus a thin sliver of energy in your right hand and shoot it toward them like a tiny spear. They dodge and for a moment you think nothing of it, spinning despite the throbbing in your back from the knife wound, determined to take them out. A groan rings both in your com and from behind you followed by a thud.

Somehow you know before you even turn who’s going to be on the ground. You feel yourself somehow grow cold while also pulsing with energy, dread and rage and heartbreak crashing into you all at once. The asset forgotten, you rush to Bucky’s crumpled form on the floor.

“What the hell?!” His eyes are squeezed shut, teeth grinding in pain as he grasps the wound in his side, red sliding over his fingers.

“Heard you,” he grunts through clenched teeth. You can’t even feel the knife in your back at the moment.

“I said I was good!” You force his hands away and he groans. It’s bad, not as bad as it could be but still…

“Behind-” He doesn’t finish his statement. The asset grabs the knife and twists.

You scream, pain surging for an instant before it’s replaced with something else entirely. Thick cords of energy curl around you, pulsing in time with your suddenly steady heartbeat. There’s nothing in your mind for this moment, not even Bucky. One goal. Eliminate the target.

Pulling away the knife rips out of your back. It should feel like something. It’s just a tingle. Whirling you grab the asset by the neck. You could make this much faster than you do but… Pinning them against the wall you let your power trail down their body from your hold on their neck. They make a noise somewhere between a scream and a gurgle as superheated energy burns its way through them. It only takes a minute.

Once their eyes go dark you hurl them to the side. The sound of bones cracking. It’s then you come back to yourself, the monster sated. Bucky.

“Bucky is down. West sector cleared, I’m taking him up.”

“No, I-”

“Shut up,” you growl as you lift him.

Sam is stitching up Bucky when Nat and Steve declare the facility cleared. Nothing of value gained. They know you’re all looking for them, that’s clear enough by how quickly they abandoned this place.

The ride back is quiet. Sam takes care of the wound on your back and you can’t take your eyes off Bucky’s side. You could have killed him. If you had…

As soon as the door opens you’re bolting out. You think you’re going to run to your apartment but instead, you go to the range. Even so, all you manage to do is pace in the space anxiety thrumming through you, yet you’re unable to bring yourself to let loose the energy that almost killed him…

Before your brain knows what’s happening you’re riding the elevator up to not your apartment but Bucky’s. You know he’s in medical but he’s not hurt badly enough to stay there more than an hour or so. Pacing the hall, you wait.

The elevator doors slide open when you’re at the end of the corridor. Two voices, Steve’s and Bucky’s. You freeze.

“I’m good, promise,” you hear Bucky say.

“Alright. Call me if you need anything.” The doors slide closed and Steve is gone.

He hasn’t even opened his door before you’re on him. A small surprised noise comes from him as you turn him to face you. Logically you know he’s injured, need to be careful, but…

Your fingers tangle into his hair, pulling him to you. His kiss tastes like sweat and desperation. Tears burn your eyes as his tongue finds its way between your teeth, his arms winding around you, holding tight.

Suddenly you pull away, pushing against his chest. You punch him hard in his left pec. “You fucking idiot!” Your voice cracks.

“Yeah. I am.” A sardonic smile curls his lips. “Just for you though.”

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky #bucky barnes x reader #the winter soldier

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usuallyrics-blog · 6 years ago

Text

Good Foot

New Lyrics has been published on usuallyrics.com https://usuallyrics.com/lyrics/good-foot/

Good Foot

(feat. Timbaland) (from “Shark Tale” soundtrack)

Hey Timbo Yeah Dont you hate it when a dude starts actin up Like this fella over here with his hands on the scuff Be muggin and carryin on

Hey JT Yeah Why these dudes keep starin at us I dunno but Ima bout to find out wassup Be easy dont take it to rough Talk to ’em

Im not being cocky I just noticed that she was looking at me Chill homeboy be cool Cause there aint no reason for all that fussin at me Its just gettin started And theres a lot of fish around here just shakin they jelly I ain’t tryin to be rude dude but we tryin to tear up the place come on

There aint nothing to it If you wanna get down then we can do it-do it There aint nothing to it Get out your seat Why You aint glued to it Be easy and watch that–tone Keep stepping with your new suede shoes–on Boys and girls lets all sing along Now everybody just get on the good foot

Get on the good foot

Now, how am I supposed to know that she’s yours She aint got no ring on her finger It aint our fault homeboy that your girl likes to wonder and linger Your actin so serious We just danced I aint even ask for her number

Dont be mad cause we the life of the party we aint tryin to hurt nobody talk to ’em

Im not being cocky I just noticed that she was looking at me Chill homeboy be cool Cause there aint no reason for all that fussin at me Its just gettin started And theres a lot of fish around here just shakin they jelly I aint tryin to be rude dude but we tryin to tear up the place Come on

Get on the good foot

If you keep on pressin at me (That dont bother me none) Cause I see every fish in the sea (Ima get the baddest one) You take yourself so seriously (But you dont impress me none)

Dont be alarmed boy..we came to do no harm boy Talk to ’em

Im not being cocky I just noticed that she was looking at me Chill homeboy be cool Cause there aint no reason for all that fussin at me Its just gettin started And theres a lot of fish around here just shakin they jelly I aint tryin to be rude dude but we tryin to tear up the place Come on

Get on the good foot

Who is Justin Timberlake

Justin Randall Timberlake (born January 31, 1981) is an American singer, songwriter and actor. Timberlake was born in Memphis, Tennessee. He joined Star Search and the brand new Mickey Mouse club. In the late 1990s, he became famous as one of two soloists and the youngest member of the “N Sync”, which will become one of the best-selling male music bands of all time.

#Justin Timberlake - Good Foot Lyrics #Justin Timberlake LyricsArray

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afewmarvelousthoughts · 6 years ago

Text

Truth Pt. 12

Truth Master List

Request:

Pairing: Bucky X Reader (Enhanced)

Warnings: FLUFF, FEELS, CUTE MOMENTS, only a little sad

A/N: Look. I’m a sucker for Bucky dancing, I’m a sucker for cheese (sometimes) and also I just thought these two deserved a moment like this after everything they’ve been through. Ugh. I love them.

Tags are open!

@midnightdream83 @mywinterwolf @disagreetoagree @breezy1415 @peachthatdrinkslemonade @wonderlandmind4 @piensa-bonito @handplucked @buckysstar @sam-jae @marauder--harder @for-the-love-of-the-fandom @andreagf956 @marvelousmeggi @jewelofwinter @fairislesheets @animegirlgeeky @lydklein1 @katecolleen @siriuslycloudy2 @zannemes

The next morning you slip out while Bucky is still sleeping for your appointment with Tony and Bruce.

You were happy he managed to get some sleep. Throughout the night you kept waking up, terrified he’d stopped breathing or constantly seeing that image of him bleeding from a wound you’d inflicted on him…

The moment the elevator opens you’re met with Black Sabbath blaring. It wouldn’t have been your first choice but you’re not mad about it either.

“Mornin’ Sparks!” Tony bellows from the other side of the room.

“Coffee or tea?” Bruce asks.

“No fasting?”

“Nah.”

“Coffee.” Bruce pours you a cup and brings it over to the chair you were at a few days prior.

“We just needed that for the initial blood tests.” You hold your arm out and he begins to attach the nodes.

Tony heads over when Bruce is about done, Dum-E on his heels. “Sorry, had to fix this idiot.”

“Be nice to him,” you smile at the robot.

Tony laughs shaking his head and holds out a bag of banana chips. You take a few, munching them, mind wandering back to Bucky.

“Hey,” Tony sits next to you, placing a hand on your shoulder, “you ok?”

“I’m fine. I’m not the one who got a hole torn in their side yesterday.”

“It really looked worse than it was,” Bruce says, tone trying to reassure you.

“I know how much worse it could have been…” You feel the energy rise in you.

“Damn,” Tony looks at the screen. “Tell me, after a fight are you able to get your power up and running faster?”

“Uh… maybe? I’ve never really paid attention to it.”

“Because it took almost an hour for you to reach this high of a level the other day. And now what, five minutes?”

“Could be linked to emotion too.” Bruce would know.

“Yeah. Both maybe? Sorry, I know that’s not helpful.”

“No, but it’s interesting.” Tony studies the readings as the energy quiets. “The signature is also just a touch different-”

“Not quite as stable,” Bruce finishes. It’s like you’re not really there. Which is honestly ok with you.

“So you and Lefty,” Tony pops some chips in his mouth, “had quite the tiff. Guess you made up?”

You glare at him for a minute before responding. “I guess making him bleed was good enough payback for being a chauvinist.”

“Maybe,” he glances at the screen. “You should actually talk about it though.”

“Are you really giving me relationship advice?”

“More of a suggestion. Based on my own many and likely continuing mistakes.” Bruce snickers and Tony throws a chip at his head.

You laugh and sigh. “As much as I hate these words, you’re probably right.”

“You just broke rule #1, Y/N.” Bruce shakes his head in mock disappointment.

For the rest of your appointment, you run through some of the same things you did before. Bringing your energy up and down, letting it crackle from your fingertips, forming and dissipating.

Tony and Bruce both study the screens after you’re unhooked. “You boys need anything else from me?”

“Nah, you’re good Sparky. I’ll let you know if we need ya.”

“Have fun nerds!” You call over your shoulder as you head back to Bucky’s apartment to check on him.

When you open the door the smell of bacon makes your stomach growl. The sound of Bucky singing along to Sinatra’s Fly Me To The Moon brings a smile to your face and an ache to your heart. What if you’d-

“Y/N?” Bucky’s calls from by the stove.

“Yeah, it’s me. Sorry I didn’t knock…”

He comes out of the kitchen with a mug of coffee for you. “You don’t have to knock.”

“Thanks,” you take the mug from him but don’t take a sip, your lips pursed, trying to settle your nerves.

“You’re welcome. Thought you may be hungry.” He nods toward the kitchen and heads back.

Slowly you follow taking a seat at one if the bar stools. You stare into the mug, the silence only broken by the sizzling from the pan for the next few minutes.

As he cracks and whisks the eggs you can’t stand it anymore. “Why are you doing this?” You snap.

He turns around, bowl in hand one brow raised. “Like I said, I thought you’d be-”

“I could have fucking killed you Bucky…”

“Yeah,” you feel your face contort at the admission. “But it was my fault.” You turn back to your coffee, the guilt too overwhelming.

He turns the burner off and comes to your side, “Look at me, Y/N.” His right fingers graze your left cheek, gently turning your face to his. The expression on his face is soft, eyes crinkled slightly at the corners. “You had it handled. I… I was... well I was acting like my fucking father. Like I knew better based on nothing but my own pride. Because of that I got in the way and got caught in the crossfire. That isn’t on you, baby.”

You reach a shaky hand out to touch his side lightly where the bandages were. Bucky takes your hand in his, lifting it to his lips. “I can’t promise I won’t ever be an authoritative prick again. But I’ll work on it, I promise.” Sniffing hard you nod. “We ok?”

“Yeah. We’re good.”

The two of you enjoy a nice breakfast and have just curled up on the couch to watch a movie, both of you still tired from the mission, when Tony texts you:

“Hey. Can you come back for a minute? Wanna talk about something.”

You sigh heavily.

“What is it?” His back is pressed against your upright torso, head on your chest. Tilting his head to the side he looks up at you.

“Tony needs me to come back to the lab for something.”

“Ok,” Bucky groans a little as he sits up, the exhaustion clearly kicking in. “Tell him if he keeps you too long he’s gotta deal with me.”

You laugh, “You got it, Sarge.” Standing you lean down and press a kiss to his forehead.

Tony’s at his desk, the lab quiet for once. It’s unnerving.

“What’s so bad that you don’t even have music on, Ton?”

“Huh?” He looks at you distracted. “Oh! Nothin’ bad just needed to focus and couldn’t find the right song.” He flashes you a half smile.

“Tony…?”

“I just can’t work out how you tick. It’s unlike anything we’ve seen…”

You can’t help but laugh bitterly, “Well you’ve only tested me twice.”

“True but the results are so different. I mean… the base readings are pretty similar but… I just hate a problem I can’t solve, or that I don’t even know how to start.”

“Are you trying to… fix me, Tony?” A cold feeling of betrayal begins to settle over you.

“No! Absolutely not!” He looks horrified and you feel like an idiot for thinking that. “Unless you want me to… I just want to be sure we can keep you, ya know...”

“From blowing up and killing everyone?”

He rolls his eyes, “I was going to find a more tactful way to put it.”

“Tact isn’t your style man.”

“Ouch!” He dramatically grabs his chest. “Anyway, I was wondering if you’d be cool with me tagging along on your next few missions as a non-combatant. I just want to monitor your levels in real time, see how they change in combat vs. in a controlled setting. But I don’t want you to feel like I’m babysitting you.”

You think about this. It could be a little weird. Tony usually stayed out of most basic missions, only really getting involved in the ones where they needed the extra firepower. Honestly you always like when he’s along and you can think of another good reason to have him…

“I’m game. But I need you to promise me something.”

Tony’s brows raise with suspicion. “That makes me nervous… suuuuuure.”

“If you’re with us and something goes wrong. If I’m down or compromised in some way… get him out.”

Tony’s face settles into a stoic mask as the weight of what you’re asking settles over him. “Y/N…”

“Look, I don’t have any intention of throwing myself to the wolves or anything but after yesterday… I just don’t trust he won’t do something stupid to save me if he thinks he can… no matter if it’s a lost cause.”

“He’ll put up one hell of a fight. I saw how he looked at you Y/N the other day. That man is-”

“You can handle him. Plus… you’re the only one that can besides Steve and…”

“He’ll hate anyone who pulls him out. You figure I can handle that.” He smirks.

“Tony…”

“No you’re right, I can. And I am the only one. So yeah, deal.”

You give him a cold smile, it wasn’t exactly something to be happy about. “Alright.” You stand and extend a hand to shake on it.

He takes it and pulls you into a hug. “Just don’t put me in that position Sparky. You don’t get to just cash it in, ok?”

“I won’t.” You pull away, this time your smile is genuine. “Besides, without me, who’re you gonna make playlists for?”

“Exactly.”

You enter the elevator with a strange sense of hope warming your chest. A sense that grows and grows over the next few months.

For the most part, you’ve moved into Bucky’s place. Sure you still technically have your own apartment in the tower but you haven’t stayed there one night since that mission where you injured him. Your clothes, records, and even some of your photos have made their way into his drawers, shelves, and onto his walls slowly but surely.

On nights where you’re not beat from a mission or eating with the team, you cook together. Dancing everything from the waltz to tango as various dishes bubble away on the stove. You even convince him on a few occasions to invite one or two people over for dinner or drinks that aren’t Steve.

Nat and Clint join you one night. Another it’s them and Steve, which proves to be hilarious back and forth between best friends calling one another out on their reckless bull shit. You laugh yourself to tears more times that night than you can count. When you have Sam over things are awkward for about a half hour before they gang up on you to argue the superiority of Star Trek to Star Wars.

Tony accompanies you to whatever missions he’s able. Mainly he hangs back in the jet, looking over the feedback Jarvis sends him from the cuffs he modified to not only offer (hopefully anyway) emergency stabilization but to give him readings on your energy levels, how the signature changes, temperature fluctuations, and other minute details you never pay attention to.

When you’re back on the jet he usually would do a more thorough scan as you fly home. Determined to figure out just what Hydra did and how he can give you the most control possible. It warms your heart that he’s so determined.

Only twice do they pick up on any more energy signatures that come close to your own. The first was a false positive. While the other seemed to be just residual energy since the facility appears to have been abandoned for years. In fact, you’re fairly certain it was one of yours, judging from the way your head feels like it’s filled with static and the soul-shredding dreams that followed that night.

Bucky held you while you screamed and cried. You weren’t able to make your tongue form the words, some block in your brain preventing you from speaking about that facility. It was ok though, he understood. The night was spent with him rocking you gently in his arms, singing softly to you, grounding you to a present so wonderful it made the past truly feel like nothing more than a bad nightmare.

You weren’t the only one to deal with ghosts though. It was a particularly brutal mission, the Hydra agents were determined to win or die… needless to say, they didn’t win. Bucky had been cornered with Nat by about 10 agents. When you saw them after they were both covered with viscera and blood, looking more like animals than humans.

That night you rolled over to find the bed empty the door to the bathroom cracked, the sound of the shower running seeping out. You padded quietly over, pushing the door open slowly, not wanting to startle him. Bucky was on the floor of the shower, head pressed to his knees. Scalding hot water hitting him from all angles, his skin pink and red. When he lifted his head you felt your heart shatter. His face a mask of fear, pain, regret, and horror.

He didn’t have to explain to you why, though he wants to. What he wants is irrelevant. Had you asked for a mission report he could have given it, could have recited every horrifying detail of the day. His mouth opens and closes as you tentatively approach.

“Zamorozka,” is all he’s finally able to manage in a shaky voice when you’re by the shower. Freezing. Cryo. That’s what they would have done after a mission like that just to be sure. Wipe. Reset.

Nodding you strip your clothes, stepping into the cloud of steam to sit behind him, warm him further with your body, pull him as far from that freezing hell as you possibly could. For a long while, you hold him, kiss his tense back muscles, remind him where he is. When you coax him out of the shower you tell Jarvis to crank the heat in the apartment. You wrap Bucky in cozy clothes and blankets and though you’re practically sweating you don’t care.

But even with those and a handful of other times that your past comes knocking in the night, the two of you find something neither ever hoped for. Happiness. He frustrates the hell out of you some days but he makes you laugh, never questions your silences, and goddamn if he wasn’t incredible in the sack.

And it seems that you make him happy too. You’ll catch him watching you from time to time, a warm smile lighting his features. He’s more personable to everyone, even Sam commenting that he likes him better now. Steve is convinced you’re bringing back more of his old self, you hope that’s true.

Bucky can’t help the smile on his face. All you’re doing is caring an armload of blankets in from the bedroom but still… it makes him unbearably happy.

Everyone is wrapped up in gala business. Some necessary evil PR stunt for the Avengers. No one has mentioned anything about having to attend to either of you so instead, you’re taking the time to watch movies and eat copious amounts of shitty food.

He pops a cheese puff in his mouth and you look over to him. “If you eat all those I’ll zap you.” Laughing Bucky walks over and tosses a neon orange ball at you. Effortlessly you catch it, munching loudly.

“What’re we starting with?” He settles next to you, tugging you close.

“Reservoir Dogs, Tony’s been harping on me to watch it and I just want him to shut up about it.”

Bucky laughs, “Alright. Hit it Jarvis.” The windows darken to block out some of the early afternoon light and the film starts.

They’re no more than 20 minutes in when Jarvis pops in. “Pardon the interruption, Captain Rogers is on his way up.”

You exchange a glance, “Everything alright, Jarvis?”

“To my knowledge, yes.”

When Steve raps at the door Bucky gets up to let him in. “Hey, sorry to interrupt.”

“It’s fine.” You pipe from the living room as they head in. “Cheese puff?” Steve smiles at the proffered bowl, never one to turn down a snack he grabs a handful as he sits.

“What’s goin’ on?” Bucky settles back at your side, automatically taking your free hand in his own.

“This damn gala.”

Bucky laughs, “You never did like a dance, Stevie.”

Steve rolls his eyes, “Hard to when every gal had a foot on me at least.”

“Mhm. That was why.” He turns to you, “He just doesn’t like dancing.”

“You do though.” You both turn your eyes back to Steve, Bucky’s suspicion mounting. “That’s kinda why I’m here…”

He reaches over and nabs more cheese puffs, shoving some in his mouth before continuing. “Hill thinks maybe you should both attend.”

You just popped a puff in your mouth and begin coughing a bit, “What?!”

“Don’t shoot the messenger,” Steve holding a hand up in surrender. “She said it would be excellent PR for the team to let people see-”

“The reformed freak show?” Bucky’s grip tightens on your hand. This puts a bad taste in his mouth. Steve looks wilted and Bucky regrets his tone.

“No man, at least I don’t think it’s like that.” His fingers begin to drum on his knee. A classic Rogers tell that he’s nervous as all hell. “I think it’s more to show people that you’re not something to be afraid of, either of you.” Bucky feels you shift next to him.

“The public knows there are two former Hydra assets on the team. You,” he gestures to Bucky, “they know about from the Battle of The Potomac. But, Y/N, you’re a total mystery which is almost worse.”

Bucky stares at the place where your clasped hands rest. People fear what they don’t know. “So… this is a PR suggestion, not a team decision?” He can feel the tension in your body.

“Yeah, but everyone agrees it’s probably a good move. It’s a secure event, every attendee vetted. Plus it’s here in the tower so if you need to duck out, you can.”

“Bruce said the last one wasn’t bad,” your voice seems kind of small.

He looks over at you, your eyes also glued on the spot where your bodies connect. “Do you wanna go, doll?”

You laugh a little bitterly, looking up, “I mean… it’s not my thing, I didn’t even go to prom but if everyone thinks it a good call and will help PR… I kinda feel like we should.”

Suddenly he feels kind of excited, having you on his arm, dancing with you… Of course, there’d be all the other people, press, and… He swallows hard. “Alright. We’re in.”

“Thank god.” Steve looks genuinely relieved.

With the gala on Saturday night, your relaxing Thursday afternoon immediately shifts. Now there are clothes to be chosen and fitted, logistics to discuss, various preparations to be made.

Bucky is drug off with Tony and Pepper takes you on. Tony gets his tailor on fitting a suit for Bucky immediately since apparently what Bucky had wasn’t suitable, despite the fact that Tony keeps insisting that the event isn’t super formal. It makes him think of when he’d let his sisters dress him up. Except he’s more annoyed and less endeared.

The next day you’re both back in fittings after breakfast. When you’re done it’s lunchtime and you both look spent. Still, it’s off to a meeting with Hill to cover security details, as much for the attendees as all of you.

Most everyone would enter at the beginning of the party, do the press thing, answer a few preselected questions, etc. When they’re going over this Steve looks like he wants to puke. It’s the one time Bucky’s happy he’s known for being an unstoppable murder machine.

The two of you and Bruce would hang back, coming in an hour after the others once the event actually starts. This doesn’t mean there won’t be some pictures snapped throughout the evening or even that people won’t attempt to interact with you all but it will take the pressure of being in the spotlight off. All that’s really asked is that you all stay for at least a half hour but if you need to leave that’s ok.

No weapons would be allowed into the building. All of you were welcome to arm yourselves as you saw fit. While they never anticipate anything to go wrong, few were bold enough to make a move inside Avenger’s Tower, after all, it never hurt to be prepared.

Saturday morning comes and you’re both already over it. His initial excitement has been smothered in anxiety and general annoyance with the whole process. Plus he knows as soon as he sees Tony, he’s going to have to once again make it clear that he’s not cutting his hair.

“Let’s just say we’re sick.” You press tighter into his side, burying your face in his chest.

His lips curl a touch as he strokes the back of your head. “Don’t think that’ll fly, doll.”

“Thirty minutes has never seemed so long in my life. And after Hydra, I feel like that’s saying something.” You roll over onto your back next to him.

He can’t help but laugh. “It’ll be fine,” he tangles his fingers with yours. “Besides, didn’t Tony say he put together a great playlist?”

“Not worth it.” Your phone buzzes on your nightstand. Groaning you pick it up. “It shouldn’t take a whole day to get ready for anything ever. It’s just not right.”

“You’ll have fun, Nat’ll be there.” You slide him a sidelong glance. “Promise after this we’ll see about running off someplace for a few days. Sound good?”

You smile before pouncing on him, straddling his hips, kissing him hard. “The thought of having you all to myself for a few days may just get me through this.”

Your phone buzzes again and you go to get off, he pulls you back, “I think they can wait a minute.” He lifts his hips to fully press the hard length of him against you.

“I think you’re right Barnes.”

His good mood lasts until the exact second Tony asks about his hair for the sixth time in the last three days. “Stark, if you ask me one more time I swear to god I’ll-”

“Alright, alright,” Tony’s hands are up. “At least pull it back.”

“Planned on it.”

“Give him some credit, Tony, the man wasn’t raised by wolves,” Clint pipes up from the couch where he’s waiting to try his suit on too.

Bucky doesn’t see you for the rest of the day. Pepper planned what she swore would be a fun ‘girls day’ for all the women on the team. He hopes you’re having fun but as the clock ticks closer his anxiety over everything is peaking. Seeing you, he knows will calm some of it. He’d face anything with you by him.

You were all meeting in the common space for a toast before the majority of the team went down to kick things off. When he gets there, it’s just the guys, drinking whiskey and lounging.

“I guess you clean up alright Barnes.” Sam lifts his tumbler of amber liquid in Bucky’s direction.

“You don’t look terrible either, Wilson.”

“Psh,” Sam scoffs as Bucky takes a seat by Steve on the couch, “I know I look damn fine in this Armani. Not that you’d know taste if it hit you upside the head.”

Bucky has to admit, Sam’s burgundy suit is pretty sleek. He’d opted for something black. Its slim cut seems strange but it’s the style now. The jacket, Tony insisted, could be worn open and thank god this wasn’t something he needed a tie for. In fact, the perfectly tailored white button-up was open a few buttons, making it fairly comfortable.

It’s almost twenty minutes before the elevator dings. Everyone but you and Natasha file out. Tony catches Pepper up in a passionate kiss. Hill looks incredible in pants that hug her legs and what looks like a men’s blazer without a shirt under, very her. The other gals look great too.

Since time was getting tight Tony goes ahead and gathers everyone around, popping a bottle of champagne and pouring glasses. Finally, Natasha saunters in but oddly you’re not with her.

“Sorry I’m late, had to figure out where comfortably put a pistol,” Natasha announces. She’s in a bold number. Gold, short, strapless, with a triangle cut out showing her cleavage perfectly.

“Told you not to go with the Versace,” Hill quips.

“Ok, but how could I not. Just look at me.” She flashes Bucky a smile, “Y/N is right behind me.”

On cue, the elevator doors open and you step out and Bucky’s jaw hits the floor. You’re radiant in a floor-length black gown, sheer from the waist down with black overlays resembling roses with crystals providing shimmer, the neckline plunges almost to your waist, your arms bare. Your hair is swept and pinned to one side, curls perfectly shielding half your face, your lips a deep blood red.

“Woah.” Steve breathes out next to him. “I don’t know if you can handle that Buck.”

“You may be right,” Bucky can’t take his eyes off you as you float over to them.

“I feel slightly ridiculous.” You say exasperated as he wraps you in his arms.

“You look beautiful.”

You smile softly, a slight blush on your cheeks. “Thanks”

“I may have to take back what I said about your lack of taste, Barnes.” Sam teases before Tony shuts everyone up for the toast.

When the time finally comes to slip into the party you grab his metal hand so hard you’d likely break a regular Joe’s bones. Bruce goes first. Since you’re supposed to wait a few minutes he pulls you into him. Kissing you, his fingers grabbing your hair by the roots, body pressed tights against yours. Your panting when he releases you.

“You’re lucky this lipstick is magic.” He laughs noting it didn’t budge.

“Ready darlin’?”

“Now I am.”

Hand in hand you walk into the room. The door is tucked in a back corner so no one really notices either of you for a minute. That is until Captain America just has to pull up next to you both.

“Save me,” Steve whines.

Bucky can’t resist laughing at how visibly uncomfortable his best friend is. He clasps his free hand on Steve’s shoulder, “Come on, pal. Can’t be that bad.”

Honestly, it wasn’t bad at all. People keep a wary but curious distance from the two ex-Hydra agents in their midst. This means when the other team members want to have a minute away from their PR faces they just gravitate toward the two of you. He wants to dance with you but honestly, he’s too nervous to drag you out into the big middle of it all. It’s fun to watch the others dance and get a little silly though.

After a couple of hours, Tony and Pepper approach you.

“Come on,” Tony’s free hand grabs Bucky’s.

“What?” Bucky has no clue what Stark is playing at.

“Grab that gorgeous woman and get on the damn dance floor with us.”

Pepper smiles at you with a wink, “As much as I hate to agree with Tony, that Elie Saab you’re wearing is too beautiful to be a wallflower.”

A few light synth notes start and all the sudden you bust out laughing. “Foreigner?! Tony? Really?”

“This is a great song!” Tony’s face takes on a mock look of offense. Bucky doesn’t know the song but he’s not hating it, unlike some of the other stuff you had him listen to.

As the four of you begin to sway on the dance floor the crowd there thins out a bit. You’re still giggling in his arms. “Tony is such a lame ass.”

“What was that Sparky?” Tony shouts over the music.

“You’re a lame ass!” You shout back, Pepper belts a laugh and there are distinct snickers from the crowd.

You’re both laughing as he spins you out when the melodramatic chorus kicks in. The two of you manage some kind of waltz sway mashup, giggling like kids.

Natasha and Sam join you all and seem to be getting a kick out of the song choice too, singing along. As the song turns takes on a choral vibe you, Tony, and Pepper, along with a chunk of the crowd all join in. Bucky swears his face aches from smiling.

When it ends he can’t help but spin you into his arms and kiss you. A few whoops from around them makes it sink in just how public this is. Somehow he doesn’t really care. Your head falls back and your ringing laugh sends his heart soaring.

“Careful Tin Man,” Tony playfully elbows him, “wearin’ your heart on your sleeve there.”

Bucky thinks that Tony Stark had never been more right in his life.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky #soft bucky #bucky fluff

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afewmarvelousthoughts · 6 years ago

Text

Truth Pt. 6

Master List: @afewmarvelousthoughtsadmin

Request:

Pairing: Bucky X Reader (Enhanced)

Warnings: PTSD, flashbacks, lots of feels, night terrors.

A/N: Yeeeeeeaaaaaahhhhh. Here’s a thing. It’s an intense thing. Though intense in a different way than Part 5.

@wonderlandmind4 and I were chatting about vulnerability and honestly, that’s kind of the entire point of this chapter. Because y’all, being vulnerable in front of someone is fucking HARD.

Tags are open!

@midnightdream83 @mywinterwolf @disagreetoagree @breezy1415 @peachthatdrinkslemonade @wonderlandmind4 @piensa-bonito @handplucked @buckysstar @sam-jae @marauder--harder @for-the-love-of-the-fandom

[Bucky]

Bucky wakes up drenched in sweat, shaking, throat raw.

“Sargent Barnes?” Jarvis intones in a way Bucky has heard far too many times.

“I’m… I’m good,” he pants not wanting Jarvis to call for back up.

“Sir if you don’t mind me-“

“Not now, Jarvis.” Jesus, even a dick to the computer aren’t you?

Jarvis had good reason for concern. This made five days straight, every night since that mission, he woke up screaming.

He braces his head between his knees, trying to get the tremors to calm. Counting, holding his breath the right way, all the different coping tools his therapist taught him. Sometimes though… you just needed to beat the shit out of something.

He looks at his phone, 2:45 in the morning. It was after midnight when he’d gone to bed so the dream couldn’t have been going on for more than an hour and a half… it felt like a lifetime.

A flash of it plays in his mind: Dancing with Nancy, she was pretty and witty, had real moxie, he’d always liked his women with a little bite. As they danced though she aged in his arms until she was nothing but a wrinkled corpse, a reminder of what he should be now. Then the body morphed into that woman from the facility, skin red and painful to see, the power you so effortless wielded tearing her apart from the inside out. But… It was her eyes… they sparkled like yours. He shudders and bolts for the bathroom to splash cold water on his face.

When he looks in the mirror he can’t help but stare. It always felt like the image was wrong somehow like a double exposure of almost the same exact shot so things were just a little off. On the one hand, he looked so much like the pictures in the museums, only a handful of years older, same dark hair, same eyes. He was even getting grey in his beard at the same spot his pa had. On the other, there was a coldness, something not quite human there he thought. Something broken.

Can’t focus on that. He felt like he was about to snap and that was never good. He pulls on some sweat pants and throws his hair up before heading to the elevator.

“Training ground, please.” The elevator moves. Even the AI wasn’t talking to him. Great.

On the way down Bucky tries to get ahold of himself. His right-hand keeps trembling, other images from the dream popping up as soon as he thinks he’s cleared it from his head. That fucking chair. Jarvis was going to suggest an appointment with his therapist, it probably wasn’t a bad idea, not that he thought it would do any good.

The doors slide open and he trudges out, not focused on anything around him. Because of this when he walks into the gym he’s a little taken back by the image of you sitting on the ground, back against the wall, and the meat locker temperature of the place making goosebumps rise on his skin.

He hadn’t seen you at all since the mission. Really, he hadn’t seen much of anyone. Steve hadn’t mentioned you and he was worried that maybe you had been disciplined on his account. He understood why you lashed out at him, they didn’t. But he knew logically that wasn’t how things worked here.

You look up, eyes red-rimmed, sweat glistening on your skin. Even in this state it still takes him a second to get his bearings. You were so striking, beautiful…

There’s a part of him that wishes you were happy to see him so it hurts that the look you cast is venomous. Which is stupid, you have every right to hate the sight of him after the way he behaved.

Your tone says it all when you rasp, “Of fucking course. Almost 100 stories and here you are.”

“Nice to see you too.” Even if it was deserved he’s not in the mood. “You done fucking up every punching bag we have,” he gestures to the pile of busted ones in the corner, “or do you plan on leaving some for the other kids to play with?” Can you not be civil for one second?! He inwardly berates himself.

“Have at it,” you say standing. He notes the way your body shakes. “Not like it’s helping me any.”

As you pass him he grabs your right arm gently, metal flexing around your wrist, “Wait,” he says softly needing to make amends.

White streaks of light pulse up your arm for an instant. “Let go of me, Barnes,” you growl. It feels like a slap.

“So I’m Barnes again?” For a second you shoot daggers at him and he thinks you’re going to snipe back. Instead, you sigh and look at the floor, seeming to wilt as you let the breath out. He releases you.

Slowly you lift your gaze to meet his. Your eyes are glassy, brimming with tears, and so very haunted. “Sorry,” you croak out and his chest constricts. He watches you, your eyes shift suddenly every few seconds as if to track something that’s clearly not there. Damn.

“What’re you seeing?” He asks softly. This was something his therapist had suggested when he first got to the tower and was crashing with Steve. If he was in a flashback talk it out.

You shudder and focus on a point beyond him, “Han… handlers.” These were a very specific breed of Hydra agent trained to keep their assets, in line. They were the ones with their little red books and ‘magic’ words. This could be very bad.

“Are they giving you orders?” A flashback could include auditory hallucinations. His had at the beginning, they almost wiped him, it was horrific. You purse your lips and shake your head no. “That’s good.”

Pressing the heels of your hands to your eyes you let out a low scream and thud to the ground. You bury your face in your knees and for an instant, you pulse, one solid light all over despite your attempts to freeze the power down. Shit. This is bad.

“I just want them to go away. I need it to go away. I just want to fucking sleep.” You’re rocking back and forth, a low keening coming from you. He had thought he was about to snap earlier. You were already fraying.

“Y/N,” he crouches in front of you, worried that if he touches you it will set you off and that would be… well a promise, the only one he made you, broken in a little over a week. You could level this building. “Look at me.”

When your eyes meet his, your pupils are blown out, adrenaline pumping hard through your system. He needs to bring you down but he needs to know how far gone you are.

“How long have you been without sleep?”

“I… I… slept with you. I mean…”

He smiles a little, “Yeah. I know what you mean. And since?” Your eyes shift, invisible enemies moving behind him. “Eyes on me,” he says firmly.

It takes effort, he can tell, but you move them to his. “It’s… I…” You pause thinking, “I mean here and there… bits. Not all since…” Another tremor rocks you, you don’t pulse but the tendrils of light on your skin glow bright. “They’re always… there.” Something like a sob comes from you, you cover your mouth reeling in any further expressions. He aches for you.

“Who’s there?”

You look at him, expression begging for understanding, “All. Of. Them.” He does understand. Your eyes clench shut. The nightmares are everywhere for you so it doesn’t matter if your eyes are open or not. “Her,” you manage, voice cracking.

“Me too,” he whispers. Your eyes open, little sparks there just around the pupil.

Your mouth opens and closes as if you can’t find the words. Finally, “She… she was like me… and I…”

“Saved my dumb ass is what you did.” Bucky offers you a smile. He doesn’t know if this will comfort you but he feels he should say it, “And saved her from more suffering.”

You scoff, “How fucked is it when you can’t tell the difference between murder and kindness…”

He just stares at you. Unable to formulate a suitable response. Because the real answer was that sometimes… there wasn’t a difference.

Suddenly you lean forward and grab his hand, he flinches a bit, worried about your stability. Your gaze is steady for the first time though, “Promise me something… please… please, Bucky…” You’re… begging.

He gives your hand a squeeze, “Anything.” He means this. Anything you asked of him he would do.

“Don’t let me become that again…” His brows knit. “I’d rather be dead than theirs ever again. Please…”

He stares into your eyes, for an instant they’re the woman’s from the facility, dead, dark, the feeling of his fingers closing them forever. He shudders, unsure if he could do the same to you.

“Bucky promise me…” your tone is desperate and your skin begins to lift to that solid glow.

It’s reckless, he knows this, but his body moves of its own volition taking your face gently in his hands. His eyes burn with tears that he won’t let fall and he kisses your lips softly, you press back into the kiss to his surprise, and his heart lifts a touch. He pulls back looking at you, still cradling your face. Your eyes are wide, the dark circles under them making them all the more haunted, screaming for his answer, but you aren’t glowing and that was good.

“I will never let them take you, Y/N… ever. I swear that to you.” He hopes you don’t call him out on his wording. While he means this, has possibly never meant something so fully in his long life, he won’t kill you to keep you from them. Burn every bit of Hydra from the face of the planet? Now that was a different story.

[Reader]

You swallow hard. The sincerity in his voice and his steady stare calms a part of the storm raging in you. In place of the swirl of fear, dread, and panic however you begin to feel how much your whole body hurts.

It’s as though every hair follicle aches, muscles throb from being constantly tense, head pounding from exhaustion, your skin raw on the inside from the power ceaselessly pulsing within you, and that makes you think of her all over again… You feel like you’re going to be sick. Bile rises in your throat, you force it down pulling away.

Reluctantly he lets your face go. You lean to the side, hands flat on the floor, staring at the concrete, and heave a little, trying to ground yourself here and not lose what little dignity you had left at this moment. His right-hand lights gently on your back, the touch sending not unpleasant shivers through you.

“It’s ok,” he says softly, “let it out if you have to. I’m sure as shit not going to judge.” You snort out something like a laugh.

He sighs, “When’s the last time you ate?” All you can manage is a shrug. Yesterday, maybe was the answer. You weren’t trying since nothing stayed down long.

“Ok, look at me, doll.” Doll. He’d called you that the night you were together… you kind of liked it. You do as he asks, turning to him slowly but remaining slumped over.

The fingers of his right-hand stroke the hollow of your cheek. “Is there… someone you… talk to. A-”

“Shrink?” You cut him off.

“Yeah,” he says. You don’t have the energy to explain you’d seen her twice since but here you were. Instead, you just nod. “I assume you’ve,” you nod again. He sits cross-legged, “Doesn’t always do much for me either…” It wasn’t her fault you think. She just hadn’t been equipped to deal with the level of fucked you brought to the table.

He rubs his right hand over his eyes, almost as sunken as your own. That mission did a number on him too, hence why he was here.

“I’m sorry,” you say, righting yourself carefully, to maintain your delicate equilibrium.

“For what?” Bucky’s face knits in confusion.

“You’re dealing with your own shit, you didn’t need me to come and dump mine on you too…” You were sure you could find room to tuck this guilt in with the other menagerie of painful emotions inside you.

“You didn’t dump,” he shakes his head, “I asked. And… like I said… you saved my life… hell, theirs too.” His gaze is intense, “We both know you did even if no one else does. I think that allows for just a little dumping.”

All you can manage, once again, is a shrug. You knew you’d saved him. He’d be dead in the bottom of a crater had you not turned back. A wave of exhaustion hits you and you sway a bit closing your burning eyes. This was sort of like being drunk, you think, only far less fun.

You feel his right-hand slip around your left, “Will you let me return the favor?” Opening your eyes, you stare at him, unsure of his meaning for a second. Oh.

It was true you could go longer than the average human without sleep or much sustenance but you were still for all accounts and purposes a human, you had limits, ones you were coming dangerously close to.

Part of you wants to ask how he intends to return it, wanting to know if its a kindness you can tolerate. Instead, some other part of you nods yes. Agreeing without consulting your greater whole to let someone in.

“Come on then,” he stands, extending his left hand. You take it and pull yourself up, relying on its seeming immovability. Still, you tilt precariously, having moved a bit too fast for your body which was now barreling toward a full shut down.

Without word or warning, he slips his right arm behind your knees and lifts your unresisting frame into his arms. You bury your face in his chest, so past caring, breathing in the smell of him, and grasping his shirt with your fist.

“I’ve got you now,” he whispers as he steps into the elevator. “You’re safe.”

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky #the winter solider x reader

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