Sebastian Stan & Characters Imagines

Bucky- Emotions

Pic= <\3
Current mood: Having major Bucky feels
This is the life I lead
...
I love my life

"Hey, hey. Calm down. Deep breaths." You told Tony, putting a reassuring gand on his back. He was getting anxious again, having flashbacks. It was your job to hold the broken and traumatized team of Avengers together, since each and every one of them had something to deal with. Tony's anxiety was easy compared to most of the others.

"It's okay..." He mumbled. "Its okay. Im... I'm okay, (Y/N). Thank you." He flashed a grateful smile your way. You smiled back, giving his back a pat before turning towards the door.

"You call me if you need to. I'm going to go talk to Bucky." You called. Tony nodded, watching you as you left. You spent most of your time with Bucky, for obvious reasons.

He had horrible PTSD. Not only from fighting, enduring torture, and dying during World War II, but also from being used as a mindless weapon for seventy years. He developed trust issues, paranoia, anxiety, and depression. Any normal person would be crippled from the amount he's had to deal with.

But Bucky wasn't.

That one thing- and the only thing- HYDRA ever did right. They taught him how to deal with and dismiss emotions. It would be expected, since a murderous assassin can't exactly have the feeling of guilt or a morale compass at all to be able to complete missions quickly and efficiently.

Bucky dealt with everything by dismissing it. He only talked to you and Steve. Everyone else knew to keep their distance for now.

Knock knock

You tapped on his door, one loud and one soft knock, as you and him had discussed before, so he knew if it was you at the door. It opened a couple seconds later, Bucky's eyes peeking through a small crack, a softening when they saw you standing there.

He opened it further and let you inside, shutting it softly behind you. You took in his room, not a single speck of dust in sight, the bed made to perfection, not a wrinkle in the sheets, and the closet with duct tape around the edges, closing it temporarily. It had his uniform in it.

"How are you feeling today, Buck?" You ask, turning to face him again.

"Im okay. It's been pretty easy today." He replied, pulling on the hem of his shirt. "How's everybody else?"

"They're fine. Tony's getting a lot better. Steve's happy you're talking to him." It always fascinated you how he could be so kind and generous, always asking how everyone else was feeling.

"That's good." He replied, but not whole-heartedly. You knew something was bothering him.

"What's going on, Bucky? I need you to tell me so I can help." You said, making him sigh and walk to his bed, sitting on the soft mattress. He knew you would be able to tell somethings going on. You always were able to. You knew him too well.

But this thing. This thing, was something he couldn't tell you. It's something he was too scared to even tell himself. He didn't know how to deal with it, he couldn't comprehend it.

HYDRA taught him to ignore his feelings. To get rid of them. And it usually worked, and was useful when it came to nervousness and anxiety. But, how was he supposed to ignore the feeling he got whenever you walked into the room?

It wasn't love. It couldn't be love. His heart was cold, he couldn't love.

"I don't know how to deal with something I feel." He said, breaking the silence. He felt the bed dip next to him as you sat down, taking his right hand in yours. You knew how it made him uneasy when you were on his left side.

"Whatever it is, you need to ask yourself of you're ready to deal with it first. If you are, then look it in the face and confront it." You said, drawing circles into his palm, something that always soothed him.

"The Winter Soldier doesn't deal with emotions." He said bitterly. You sighed and looked at the side of his face, his gaze concentrated on the floor. A muscle leaped in his jaw as he thought of the Soldier more.

"That's not you." You said softly. Bucky gasped slightly. "You're not Winter anymore. Winter is gone. Thawed. And all that's left is James Buchanan Barnes."

He let your words sink in. You were right. He wasn't a soldier. He wasn't HYDRA. And he would never be again. He could be a hero. He could feel. He could love.

In a burst of confidence, he turned and pressed his lips against yours, resisting a smirk when he felt you kiss him back. He was on cloud nine, his hand on your cheek as you ran your fingers over his scalp. He felt something, a flutter in his chest, a knot in his stomach, and all he wanted was to keep you there forever.

You were the one to pull away, taking a greedy breath for air. You kept your eyes locked on his, and saw something new. A sparkle, a shine, a deeper thought process behind them.

"I-I love you, (Y/N), doll. I think I love you." He said, running his finger down your cheekbone.

"That's really great, Bucky." You smiled. "Because I love you too."