delicate; b.barnes

By typicaldaze

63K 2K 551

reader was a highly skilled neuropsychologist who worked for what used to be SHIELD. a couple days after the... More

[01:] to wakanda.
[02:] bucky.
[03:] penny for your thoughts.
[04:] mri's & other modern commodities.
[05:] fight or flight.
[06:] lake, the sequel.
[07:] the king is dead.
[08:] hovel, sweet hovel.
[09:] to have or not to have indoor plumbing.
[10:] retching and realizations.
[11:] there's a reason behind everything.
[12:] it's hovercraft time, bucky barnes.
[13:] sober desires & the reminiscence of a winsome smile.
[14:] pinky promise.
[15:] but she couldn't.
[16:] aftermath.
[17:] wouldn't dream of it.
[18:] dwindling mercurial high.
[19:] tomorrow.
[20:] collateral damage.
[21:] snail mail and the tragedy of time.
[22:] a series of unfortunate events.
[23:] love is so short, forgetting so long.
[24:] the gap.
[25:] everything is different now.
[26:] old habits die hard.
[27:] lucky guess
blurb requests!
- [blurb:] bucky's letters

[28:] remnants of the past.

709 38 12
By typicaldaze

word count: 2.3k

- - -

It was quiet in her apartment, the kind of middle-of-the-night quiet that makes the air feel pleasant and calm because you can feel that the rest of the world is asleep.

Light from the city shown softly on the floor in front of the window. But it didn't make it to the couch, providing the comfort of darkness to the two sleeping there.

They had fallen asleep while talking — somehow having moved past the thing with the vodka and then the thing with her head. She would've stayed there taking all night if sleep hadn't taken them both.

Bucky fell asleep sitting up, his head leaned back and resting on the cushion behind him. She had been sitting to the side of him but on the other end of the couch. However, once both of their eyes were droopy and their voices slowed, she ended up leaning forward and laying down, with her head just a couple inches from Bucky's outer thigh.

In his sleep, (or maybe not) his hand ended up resting on her head, right past her forehead. And perhaps he woke up once or twice and allowed himself, ever so gently, to stroke the hair that lay under his palm.

But he did then fall back asleep. He wasn't aware of when she started to stir in her sleep. He didn't notice when her face began to distort into pain, anger, sadness, or some mix of the three. He didn't see her breathing pick up or her skin become clammy.

He did, however, wake the hell up when he heard the guttural gasp accompanied by the mini convulsion of the couch cushion. He turned to the sight beside him. Even though she was sitting up and facing away from him, he could see the turbulent movements of her chest that by her ragged breathing provoked.

Immediately he was scared. Not of her, of course, but for her. He's seen her upset before, but never anything like this. Never anything... like he used to do. But he needed to be calm. He needed to be solid. Just as she used to be for him.

He called out her name, making sure his voice didn't waver.

Her shoulders tensed up, startled. Her head whipped towards him. She jerked back but her erratic movements caused her to slip off the couch. Knees and shins struck the hardwood.

In a flash, Bucky stood up, but then crouched down once he saw the look on her face.

"Don't! Don't-"

"I'm sorry!" he put his hands up in front of him. Then hushed his voice. "I'm sorry. You're safe. It's safe, I swear on my life."

She looked at him with wide eyes and tear stained cheeks. He felt awful, and he wondered how she felt when she took care of him after night terrors.

"I have nothing to do with this," her voice shook, weak.

"Honey, please," he implored. "Look around. Look where you are. This is your home."

Her eyes dared to move to the side. Then the other side. She held her arm to her chest, rubbing her wrists like they were sore, but there were no marks or bruises or anything.

"You had a nightmare," he said in the gentlest tone he could, "and you're not in any danger."

No response.

"We fell asleep on the couch," he inched closer. "That's why you didn't wake up in your room. But you're safe."

He held out his hand. "I'd never in a million years hurt you or let anything else hurt you."

She remained still but the tears kept coming. She was just staring at him, heaving and trying not to rock back and fourth.

He retracted his hand, his offer not accepted. He let it rest on the floor.

"The floor is cold. Feel it?"

It took a second but then - wordlessly, she brought her arm down and let her hand sit on the floor, mirroring his.

"It's because the heat from your skin goes into it and flows through it That's the coolness you're feeling."

He wasn't sure if that was right but he continued all the same.

"There's a reason behind everything," Bucky said. "Even what you're feeling right now."

"Your somethin'... nervous system is..." he tried his best to recall, "...really riled up because you had a nightmare. You're afraid, and your body is overreacting to that fear when it shouldn't be. That's why you're... breathin' heavy and really stressed right now."

"Sympathetic," she mumbled.

"What?"

"Sympathetic nervous system."

He smiled. "Yes! Yeah, your body is trying to fight for your life even though you're just sitting here with me. But that's the thing. You're just sittin' here. You're not in any danger. Promise. It's called the... fright... response or something."

"Fight or flight."

"Right," he smiled once more.

She stared down at the floor, at her hand, and her gaze softened. He finally let himself exhale. She seemed to be calming down.

Then she looked up to meet his gaze. He was hopeful, but let down.

As soon as her line of sight was on his face, focused, her eyes grew wide. She looked so confused but still so scared.

"I've seen you before," her voice was laced with alarm.

He froze. What do I do?

"I..." her expression distorted as the realization dawned upon her. "I know you."

She stood suddenly and took a step back.

He stood up as well. He must remain calm. "You do."

She looked bewildered. He couldn't help but feel guilty even though he knew it wasn't his fault.

"It's okay," he tried. "You're right, you do know me. So you must know that I pose no threat to you?"

She stared at him, then looked down, thinking to herself for a moment.

"Yes..."

Her eyes switched back up to him, breath still heavy, but shoulders less tense.

"I know you're confused," he stepped forward. She didn't move. "I know there's a lot that you don't know or don't remember. So, what do you remember?"

She tried to start a sentence but it dissipated into a sigh, like she couldn't find the words.

Slowly, she walked over to him. She held her arms out, palms facing up and parallel to the floor, signaling him to extend his own.

He held his hands over hers, but didn't make contact, afraid of frightening her.

Lightly, she grabbed onto his forearms and squeezed. Her hands then slid down to his hands and pinched the material of the gloves. He stood still, letting her pull the gloves off. Both of them. They dropped onto the floor with a felt plop. The two of them just stared down at this hands, one flesh, one metal. It was quiet for a moment. He didn't dare make a move. He didn't dare say a word.

She felt validated, like something was confirmed to her. Of what, she didn't know. However, she felt like all the strong feelings - the trust, the speed of her likeness of him - made sense. Like he was the right person for it. The person this affinity was supposed to go to. The person who her fondness belonged to. She didn't know where or why she knew him, but she knew he fit into the space her mind didn't seem to know how to fill. He was it.

She closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around him, letting her head rest on his chest. Quickly, he reciprocated, but remined quiet. It felt right. It felt good. It felt... missed.

Cautiously he brought his hand up to hold the back of her head. She only hugged him tighter.

"Bucky," she said into the air, more so declaring it to be true than asking a question.

Everything else still evaded her memory but that collection of letters in that order is him. That much she knew to be true.

"Yeah?" he said, half-confirming and half answering.

"You're it."

"I'm what?"

"My... person. Aren't you?"

His breath faltered. "Yes."

"I missed you. I don't know what from, but... that's what I'm feeling."

"I missed you, too." So much. He still wasn't sure how much of her he had back.

"Did something happen to me?"

She wasn't of the answer, but she was sure she trusted whatever he was going to say.

"Yes. But I don't know exactly what it was."

"Me neither."

There was so much uncertainty, but not for him.

"I'm not sure, but I think someone may have hurt you," he said tentatively.

"Yeah..."

"Your nightmares... they seem really intense. Like flashbacks. I used to have the same thing... I sometimes still do."

Something about what he said struck a nerve deep in her brain, but it was so dulled she couldn't make out what it meant. It felt sort of like worry, like a need to protect. Then it left.

"I was... strapped down... or something. In this last one."

He felt sick thinking about that happening to her. But the thing her wrists earlier -- that explained it.

"Before, you said that you 'had nothing to do with this.' Do you know what that means?"

"I'm not sure exactly, it's not as clear in my head once I wake up. But... It was like I was being... hurt or something- like punished? I don't know. But... I wasn't the one who was supposed to... be hurt. If that makes sense."

A hundred different possibilities crossed his mind, many of which made him feel guilty (again).

"Do you think that was something that actually happened to you? At some point in the past."

"I'm really not sure. It felt real, though. Like I was... really in trouble."

He hated picturing what might have happened, but he couldn't stop his mind from going to the worst possibilities. Whatever did happen, he prayed that it wasn't painful. Although he supposed even if it wasn't painful then, it's painful now. For both of them.

"What do we- What do I do?" She stuttered a bit.

"How do you mean?"

"If theres all this stuff I dont remember. What do I do? Like, how do I get it back? Should I even want to get it back? What if there's trauma I'm better off without?"

"Well, I can't speak for the last five years. But, I know a good amount of things that happened before, and I think there's a lot that you would wanna remember."

A beat passes.

"How long had I known you?"

"I met you in 2016, and we knew each other for about a year and a half."

Confusion again. "I don't remember meeting you."

"I know. It's alright."

Personally, it was seared into his mind; he figured he remembered it well enough for the both of them. He reckoned he could describe it to her if she wanted him to.

"So I'm just missing a year and a half of my life and was foggy for some part of the last five years..."

He looked at her somberly. "It seems so. I'm really sorry."

She sighed. "Fuck."

He shared the sentiment.

"You know, a while ago, my memory was pretty scattered - a lot worse than yours - and the rest of my mind, too. But I was able to recover. You... actually, are the one who helped me put it all back together. You helped me with a lot of things."

She looked at him, in awe.

"I did?"

"You did. You were probably the best thing that could've happened to me."

Her expression softened. She was surprised, and almost honored, that she meant so much to someone. That someone thought so highly of her.

"Really?"

"Definitely. So maybe I might be able to help you put some of it back together. I know I'm not as smart as you, but I think I can help some. A-and I can do some of the things you did for me to help me remember."

Her brows raised just slightly, hope briefly flickering across her eyes.

"You helped me find my way back to myself, so... I guess it's only fair that I help you find your way back to yourself."

Her eyes began to well up. How could someone care so much about her? Five years of being mostly alone — it takes a toll on you.

"You'd be willing to— stick with me? To help me?"

"I couldn't not."

"You seem really sure?"

"I am," he said like it was the most basic truth. Since it was. "I don't know if you remember it or if you might feel it, but I love you. And it's unconditional. I love you and I lost you once, so I don't care if things are different now. You may not remember all of me but I know all of you. I want to stay. If you'll allow me."

"Bucky..." she said fondly. "Even when you first came here? When you were at my door?"

"Yes."

"We have this whole history and you just stay. Even though my part of the history is gone..."

"It's you," he shrugged. "You're it for me. You'll always be it. You're everything."

His words made her want to burst into tears and scream. In a good way. But also in a way that felt like something was trying to push through her chest. To make itself seen. She wanted to burst at the seams and let every secret, unknown feeling crawl out of her.

Maybe she understood what he said. Working on it. Finding her way back to herself. Maybe she could feel something within her that she wanted to discover, wanted to uncover. She found him, but thought maybe she could find her way back to him. Like she once had but didn't remember.

She stepped forward and yanked him into her arms.

"I want you to stay. I want you."

- - -


SECOND TO LAST CHAPTER.
THOUGHTS????






.

Continue Reading

You'll Also Like

78K 2.9K 21
When SHIELD agent Y/N helped Captain America readjust to the modern world, she was full of optimism and hope. Then she saw the destruction and devast...
363K 5.5K 64
This book is a continuation of the previous one.. literally starting right where the other one left off!! Self-insert ๐Ÿฅฐ You are a former Black Widow...
The Promise By me

Fanfiction

2.2K 61 18
Bucky Barnes X Y/N (Fem) Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers, and yourself are a close group of best friends. You guys have been through everything. Life is p...
1M 31.1K 27
(Book one) When Anna Smith enrolled in the army, she was best friends with Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers. She left them to follow a dream of becoming...