Avengers Preferences (+Loki, Bucky, QUICKSILVER, & THE SCARLET WITCH!)

#5: You Calm Them Down

Bucky Barnes: He sat up ramrod straight in bed, waking you out of the fugue of sleep. Faintly you could see his silhouette shaking in the dim lighting. His labored pants echoed through your room, further providing evidence that he was panicking, and bad.

You sat up, gently touching his sweat-slicked arm, possibly startling him more than anything. "Bucky? What's wrong?" His breathing began to slow ever so slightly, just as he turned towards you, searching you intently, as if reassuring himself you were still there. Then his breathing became shakier, like he was fighting for control.

"Y/N..." he whispered, grabbing your hand. "HYDRA, they're still out there..." He gasped now, dropping your hand and pulling at his hair. Broken sobs and cries slipped through his gritted teeth, his entire body tensing in the moonlight.

"James...stop..." you commanded, catching an arm in each hand. With some level of difficulty, you forced his hands to his lap, and put your hands on each side of his face. "Look at me. James, look at me." Reluctantly, his eyes shifted to meet yours, glistening with unshed tears. "HYDRA is done. They won't be back anytime soon," you soothed. "Steve took care of that. They wouldn't dare touch Steve or me now that you're back in the world, alright? You have to move on," you concluded. Slowly, Bucky's breathing had returned to normal. You both laid back down, Bucky pulling you tight into his side as he settled to sleep.

Loki: It was painfully quite obvious just how panicked Loki was becoming, from your view in the cell across from him. Remarkably, he'd yet to put up an illusion of any sort, meaning he was really going downhill, and quickly. It was bad enough for you to be put in a cell, just to break your lover, but to see him shattered like this was more pain for you than him.

You placed a palm on the barrier of your cell, casting your voice out past the noice of the other Asgardian prisoners. "Loki, please," you pleaded. "It's bad enough for me to be in cell away from you, but to see you like this is...is awful."

His wild actions halted abruptly, turning to face you with a cold smile. "That's the problem, isn't it? We're in cells!" he exploded, shoving all of the furnishments to the edges of his confinement. "It should be just me if anyone. You shouldn't have to suffer for me."

A teasing grin spread across your face as his words echoed between you. "My dear, you're the god of chaos. I'd thought for sure you'd have a plan to escape by now." His eyes narrowed ever so slighty at your taunts. "It's a good thing you have me then," you smirked, allowing your admission to sink in.

His understanding reshaped his features and mood, utter determination replacing the despair. "What did you have in mind, my love?"

Captain America: It was absolutely the worst time in the world for your newly-defined boyfriend to have a breakdown. Positively awful timing on his part, actually. But you knew that it wasn't something he could control, especially with his PTSD.

He was leaning against the brick wall of an alley, right smack-dab in the middle of a very key mission. His arms wrapped around himself, as if to hold himself together and began shaking like a naked man in a blizzard. Dashing from your post, a stupid move in itself, you rushed to Steve, gripping his shoulders to try and pull him from the stupor of his anxiety attack. "Steve...come on..." you muttered, half to yourself. So far the other members of your team hadn't notcied, but as soon as they did, all hope was lost when they saw their leader having a breakdown.

"I-I can't do this, Y/N..." he croaked out on the verge of tears. "I can't do this." He sucked in a gulp of air and settled into true paranoia, complete with hyperventilating and tears.

Desperately you pressed kisses to both of his cheeks, trying to find anything that would bring him back to you. "Steve, I need you. Please don't do this..." Internally you scrambled for something that would shock him out of this trance quickly, no matter how awful it was for you to use the method. "It's killing me to see you like this, don't to this to me," you begged, hoping your pain was enough of an incentive to stop panicking.