#actually ive been gone so long ive probably Unlearned what little I knew | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

seriouslyblacklikemysoul · 3 years

Text

Like her - Bucky Barnes [V]

Hello and welcome to the fifth part. Guys, I honestly don’t know where this is heading to but I do know that the next chapters are going to be speeding things up a bit. I you want to be tagger or swing by and give me any kind of idea, feel free to tell me! Warnings: This is a rather triggering chapter. Ptsd, nightmares, a bit of depression-like symptoms. Just watch out. Word Count~3k. MASTERLIST

Part I Part II Part III Part IV

Bucky had never been completely honest with anyone. He was still tormented by his past, albeit way less than his previous days. At first, there were nightmares, so livid he could swear he was awake; he had been screaming in pain, waking up at three in the morning only to find out that he was utterly alone. Lately, he had to deal with sheets tangled up to his throat, a heart rate to match that feeling, but so screams. He had managed to hide his jumpiness at the loud noises, but that was never leaving him – he was more than alert every time a noise was heard. That didn’t come alone, thought; he became afraid of big crowds and small spaces, his breath was hitching and he was going into a shock, or rather a panic attack. But that was accompanying him since his first day into Hydra’s base. It was strange, he thought bitterly. Everyone was blaming him for being the Winter Soldier, but no one was able to understand the dangers he was facing every day after that. He hadn’t had a choice on the matter and when he did, he made the right one. He knew why, though – it was awkward and quite uncomfortable not to blame him for the bad things happened before. No one knew that he was still fighting the same battle, so many years after the first fight he had. He didn’t have a gun this time, because he wasn’t fighting to kill; he was fighting to survive another day. A soldier; that was all he knew how to be. And soldiers, from his experience, were unbroken, strong and a willing tribute to sacrifice. He had learnt to be in line, to do whatever he was told without questioning. It was all a façade; he didn’t know how to be someone else, he thought in terror. What if it was the only thing, he was even good at? Being a monster… She, on the other hand, had no idea how not to be broken. She acknowledged the darkness inside her, a lot easier than him, or at least so he thought. Maybe it was all those traumatic scenarios she had walked through that made her colder. He had no consciousness when he did what he was told to, she was wide awake, with no choice but to kill. It was just like what she had told him. When he wanted to gain grasp of himself, even the broken pieces of that man, he could reach deep down and find the scraps. She didn’t have any scraps. She was created according to their image. And he could see that she was still struggling with the person she was – he knew that pain, not to know which parts were you and which were them. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, he got her. He understood her past better than most. He did trust her but he was also not fully convinced that she wouldn’t blow them off for a better deal. After all she had said it herself – people like her didn’t ask questions when it came to money. No, that was too little of him to think about her in that way. She had done nothing that low to deserve him calling her a hypocrite. He guessed that if he was in a somewhat similar position, wanting to find out his parents and to secure a roof over his head, he wouldn’t have any questions either. He was lucky, he thought. He was lucky to have people in his life that actually cared about him, even if they claimed to hate him. He wasn’t alone, he realized a little too late – but she had been for a long time. He had zooned out of reality, trying to understand his PTSD and how to deal with it, that he barely made out a recurring noise from across the hall… where her room was. He didn’t think about it twice, as he made his way towards her – he wasn’t sure of the noise, it sounded as if something was being shuttered. He opened the door, albeit hesitant, only to find her standing in front of the mirror, fists covered in blood, glasses everywhere, eyes tainted red and face… as cold as ice. He wasn’t the only one suffering from PTSD. He wasn’t sure what to do – he had never been in that position before; he had only taken care of his messes and now someone who he barely knew was in danger. Not from someone else, no – that he knew how to handle; but from her own mind. He approached her slowly, not wanting to scare her more, her head turned to him, eyes softening and lips quivering. She hadn’t yet grasped what she had done. She hadn’t been in control the whole time, he suddenly realized. Her demons were much stronger than she had let on. She turned her eyes to her hands, worried about the pain she felt originating from there, only to swallow hard. She had done this; she had broken the mirror; she had hurt herself and she had not been able to stop her nightmares from gaining a grasp on her. She kneeled down to the floor to clean up the mess but Bucky’s hands found her and refused to let her do anything. She couldn’t do anything but let him guide her in another room, through the long hall, to another bathroom. Her mind was registering very few things; the cold metal, the pain from her hands, eyes glancing her way. He was terrified to the point he couldn’t think straight. And so, he slowly sat her down to the rim of the bathtub, as he wetted a soft cloth and cleaned her hands. She didn’t say anything, fully aware of the situation she was in and all the explanations she would have to give. He didn’t ask her anything, just cleaned the blood off of her. He wasn’t thinking, just acting on instinct. That was the moment he realized how fragile the girl in front of him really was. She had almost bested him in a fight but she was taking herself out, little by little. What the hell had happened in her past to make her so breakable but fierce at the same time? She stopped him, almost too gently, holding his hand to a stop. She was slightly shaking but she would get over it. The cuts were nothing major, and the bruises would go away in two or three days. She looked at him, truly looked at him, with no mask on, no wall to hide behind. She had gone past the point of pretending to be someone she wasn’t. She slowly walked up to the sink and rinsed her hands with lukewarm water, while he was not letting her off of his sight. She cleaned everything, wiped her hands dry with a few paper towels because she didn’t want to stain the white towels and threw them in the bin. She wanted to ask him if he had any soothing cream but she just nibbled her lip. He got her and it freaked him out – how effortlessly he was in tune with her. He reached at the top shelf of the small cupboard, next to the door and found exactly what they were looking for. He didn’t hand it to her, rather… he wanted to apply it himself? He wasn’t making any sense out of his thoughts… And then the sad truth hit him like a bus – he could only use one hand to help her. She saw the momentarily pained expression. They were such messes, crying over their pasts not wanting to move on, not really. Or maybe they couldn’t move at all; frozen into places people put them. She took in a rather big breath and extended her hands. He thought she wanted the cream but she made no such move.

“Oh” he let out loud, without realization. She wanted him to help her. And he did, without second guessing. While he was applying the cream, she felt as if she owed him an explanation – and she probably did. “I didn’t want to punch the mirror. I just… nightmares… I’m sorry for… this” she quietly told him. Oh, and he knew, he knew nightmares alright. He was nodding his head in a negative way, until he locked his eyes with hers. She hadn’t seen eyes that clear ever before. She hadn’t seen eyes so impossibly silver before. “Don’t. ‘M not – this isn’t a problem. Just… don’t hurt yourself on purpose again” he found himself saying and he had no idea where that had come from. And he didn’t want to take it back, either. She didn’t dare to look away and that was how they stayed another fives minutes… far more than necessary but so much less than what they wanted. “Thank you” she whispered after a while. He couldn’t smile at her, he was shocked by a lot of things – the fact she was just like him, that he actually wanted to help her, that he truly didn’t want her to hurt herself, that he felt almost like a schoolboy holding the girl… in a way. He couldn’t never, in all of the years that followed, understand that moment. “If you…need to talk, or not, I…” he didn’t finish the sentence but they both knew what he meant. He hadn’t quite realized what he had done. She wasn’t sure he was even saying those things. He hadn’t left her hands and she wasn’t sure why but she didn’t mind the coldness from the vibranium. A side smile reached her lips, a bit sad but no one was accusing her. “I’m here too” she vocalized his thoughts and sealed their unofficial deal with a prolonged eye contact. That was easy – setting her soul on fire. Pain had been such a consistent, unforgettable thing in their lives – they had learnt how to find shelter in harm. He knew that it was almost impossible to not go there and that was why he was trying every day to unlearn what pain had taught him. She let go and with a nod that said more than their words could have ever, she cleaned up the last of the blood from the sink. He would have stopped her but he was in a trance. “Um, James, not to be ungrateful, but I’m hungry and there is nothing inside the house that’s edible” she commented after a minute, leaving him startled. How was it so easy for her to stop thinking about one thing and go on with her life as if nothing had happened… between them… - never mind, he thought. What she had stated, was more than true and he was starving himself. He ran his fingers through his hair… it felt different. Shorter hair and less excuses to hide and procrastinate. He gave it a quick thought and maybe his decision wasn’t the most bulletproofed one, but he wasn’t exactly thinking at that moment… he was rather preoccupied gawking at her. He was about to suggest that they went to town but thank whatever deity was up there, if any, Sam had returned, calling their names, and he was more than relieved – he wasn’t sure why would he say something like that to her. She gave him one last look and went to her bedroom, to change into something without blood stains. He was left startled… what had happened in those moments? She took three deep breaths to calm her nerves – it wasn’t the rush from cutting herself, no. It was his touch and his eyes that left her wondering what the hell was wrong with her. Sometimes she was hit by the overwhelming urge to light a match and set everything on fire. As the smoke escaped her lips and her fingers shook with the badly lit cigarette between her two fingers, she imagined what it would be like to watch as everything she claimed to love burnt to ashes. This city was too quiet, for her liking, for her mind; only the tree branches were making noise and a subtle mention of the sea. This city felt judgmental towards her – it didn’t feel like home but then again… she never had one, how would she know what it was supposed to feel like? Inside her bubble of self-destruction, she had even imagined herself amidst the flames. Hot, fiery lava just erupting out of her fragile bones leaving debris in every corner she would turn. As the embers crackled in the air, she screamed as loud as her decaying lungs. But no, it wasn’t that easy. She was just a spectator, watching as everything she had ever known and could never get herself to love, burnt to a tiny pile of ash. She hadn’t been able to clean up the mess she had made yet – she had just managed to put on a long-sleeved shirt and toss the stained one to the bathtub for later. She wasn’t exactly dealing with her nightmare because… well, it wasn’t just a nightmare. She could ask Sam for help, it was practically his job but then again, she didn’t want him to know. She could ask Bucky too but she didn’t want to go there that fast, not again. Something between them had shifted and it just felt weird and awkward and … no. She covered her hands with the sleeves, only her fingertips showing. That had to suffice because she had no other plan. Her empty stomach was protesting and she gave in. Walking downstairs, she found Sam and Bucky talking about … well, not her, which surprised her. Had he really kept something that big a secret from his partner in crime? Guessing from Sam’s look, or rather the lack of, she thought that maybe he had. Sam’s eyes never traveled to her hands and that either meant that Bucky was keeping her secret or that Sam was too good of a person. Either way, she felt a wave of relief washing over her. “I promised you a shopping spree. Give me ten minutes and we’ll be on our way” he pointed at her with a comical look on his face. She wasn’t sure if two fugitives and a girl would go unnoticed by the entire town but swallowed her protests; she really wanted to get away from that place, even if it meant going to the town. Bucky was surprised by her attitude and composure. “Finally. I am starving” he commented but Sam looked at him funny, raising an eyebrow. “Who told you, you’re coming?” he asked seriously but she saw the hint of mischief gleaming in his eyes. Bucky’s mouth fell to the floor and Sam burst into laughing, shaking his head while going to his bedroom. She was lightly chuckling and his head snapped towards her, so fast she was actually worried about his neck. He recollected his thoughts and appeared stoic again. She hated that everyone around her would act all calm and cold – she needed genuine feelings and happiness, foolishness and lighthearted jokes. The silence was brooding again, and he decided to go and wait on the living room. Great. One step forward, two steps backwards… wasn’t that always the way tango was danced? She found herself trying to decode the house; it was big and gave off this old kind of vibe… she had no idea that the Wilsons could afford a place like that… but then again, there were a lot of damages that needed fixing and she knew, they would probably be there after five years. She didn’t know many things about Sam’s family… come to think of it, she knew almost nothing about both of them. Her favorite place so far, would have to be the kitchen. It was spacious but not vast, with delicate decorations and what would probably be a soft yellowish color, back in the day. Now it seemed gray. Her feet were carrying her towards him and once she realized it, she forced them to stop. Nope, she wasn’t going anywhere near him; he had made his intentions clear. He wanted to be alone, or at least not in the same room as her. And that hurt her in a way she wasn’t used to being hurt. “Okay, let’s go” Sam’s voice broke her spiraling. She wearing a pair of jeans, a gray shirt and a black jacket and thought that she would have looked ridiculous in any other scenario. But… they were technically still fugitives under the Sokovian Accords and she was… well…

Tags: @imlivingliferightnow @tonystankschild @badasseddy

#bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #the winter solider imagine #winter soldier imagine #the winter soldier #sam wilson imagine #avengers imagine #the avengers #the falcon and the winter soldier imagine #the falcon and the winter soldier #falcon and the winter soldier

39 notes · View notes