Winterbaron one-shots

"Did you have a nightmare again?"

A/N - This has slight mentions of abuse, so if you do not like that, you can skip this one-shot. It will not be connected to any, as I know this could be triggering for some people. This also has a mention to episode three of The Falcon And The Winter Soldier (TFATWS). I would've loved to actually have the Russian parts in Russian, but good ol' google translate is letting me down big time. 

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Third Person POV

           Bucky was laying in his bed, sleeping peacefully. His chest rising as he took in a deep breath, and falling as he exhaled through his nose. This was the first peaceful sleep he has had since Madripoor, not that Sam knew. Sam thought his buddy was fine, and there were only a few nightmares per month. That's because that's what the supersoldier told him, lied straight to his face. Sam believed it all, and Bucky was glad. He'd feel terrible if someone were to worry over him because he thought he was a murderer who didn't deserve care (which, of course, isn't true, he's not a murderer, and he deserves all the care in the world.). Soon enough, around 2:37 am, Bucky shot awake. His body was coated in a hot layer of sweat and coughed a bit as he felt his throat was dry. He could only hope he wasn't screaming, and he sat up, running a hand through his shoulder-length chocolate brown hair. As he did this action, he felt a bead of sweat fall from his temple, down his neck and, onto his chest. He soon lost trace of it, grabbing a glass of water with his vibranium hand, his flesh one shaking. He slowly took small sips of the water, feeling his sore throat relax from the cold liquid sliding down the sides of his throat. Soon he placed the half-empty, half-full glass back down onto the stained wood bedside table. He heard a soft knock at his door, and a just as soft, "James?" following the knock. It took the supersoldier a moment to recognize the voice. It had a soft accent to it, so he knew it was Zemo. God, he had actually screamed.

         "James, I'm coming in." The Sokovian stated, and he didn't wait for one word, and he turned the silver knob. He pushed open the door to see the supersoldier, as he expected, but what he didn't expect was to see a turtleneck exactly like his own purple one he wore a few days ago, on the brunette. Then, he noticed the white duvet was draped over the soldier's thighs, just barely covering the hem of his sweatpants. It was quite dark out, but the moonlight still danced its way through the black curtains and landed right on Bucky's face. "James? Are you alright?" The short-haired male whispered, inching his way towards the bed. He knew how his James felt, he had nightmares of his own after the building collapsed on his family. "May I touch you, James? Nothing sexual, just a grounding touch." He asked, clarifying his own words without a second thought, then looking at James. His James. James didn't deserve this, no one but anyone who harmed his James did. Bucky did nothing but nod, and Zemo seemed to not move an inch. "I know it's hard for you right now, James. However, I'd like verbal consent, so I know I'll still have a functional hand." This seemed to catch Bucky's attention, and he curved his back into an arch, but inwards. He was slouching now, and he whispered a soft, "you can." as a response to Zemo's request. At those words, Zemo raised his right hand and turned it around so Bucky could see he had no weapon, and then gently placed his hand on Bucky's cheek. "Did you have a nightmare again, Soldat?" Bucky seemed to flinch away from the touch but caught himself before his cheek could leave the gentle touch. He leaned into the touch way more than he'd admit, and he closed his eyes a little. Zemo smiled slightly, but it wasn't a sadistic smile. He wasn't smiling because Bucky had a nighmare. He was glad his James trusted him enough to lean into his hand, let alone touch his face after what happened in Madripoor.

         Zemo's soldier was currently imagining that they were back at the club. Selby wasn't there, neither were her bodyguards. Only Sam, himself and his handler, Zemo. Yes, he said Zemo was his handler. He felt Zemo slide behind himself, his hand sliding against his lower back. "Soldat." He stated, but it didn't sound like Zemo, nor Sam. His eyes widened a bit. Rumlow. He immediately tried to get away, screaming forms of, "No!" and "Get the fuck away, you monster!" Simply, he didn't hold back when it came to Rumlow. He had plently of scars marked on his body from Rumlow, and that was it for Bucky. He wouldn't allow himself to get hurt anymore. Rumlow smirked at him, before Bucky heard a soft, "J-ames it's a-alright. That's it, c-come back to me." The sokovian stated, but his voice was raspy like he had been screaming as Bucky did before Zemo walked in before. Soon, Bucky came back to his own senses, and he was still in the dark, moonlit room, but he felt something squirming under his hands, and his legs. He immediately looked at it and saw Zemo's fear-filled face looking up at him. "J-ames." He said, before coughing a bit and when Bucky didn't stop, he stared Bucky directly in the eyes. He'd feel so bad for doing this, but he needed to breathe. Desperately. He took matters into his hands and looked at James, his James, with an apologetic look. "Soldier. Stand down," He said firmly, though his voice was still raspy. The soldier's body tensed before he complied. His grip released immediately, and he sat back on Zemo's waist, and Zemo coughed, before panting to catch his breath. "I'm- I'm so sorry- so sorry. I'm sorry." Bucky said quickly, panic filling him. Tears bottled up in his eyes and threatened to fall, but he didn't blink. Zemo sat up, using his left hand to hold himself up, taking his right to gently hold Bucky's cheek. "My soldat, no one will ever harm you while I am here, got it?" The Sokovian stated, looking directly into Barnes' eyes.

           Bucky was now laying on the bed, the duvet pulled over himself along with the person he was sharing the bed with, and his long hair being played with. There was no tugging, which the brainwashed soldier apreciated. If his hair was tugged, he would most likely have a flashback he did not want to relive. The Baron kept playing with his hair, a small, content smile on his lips. "Are you feeling better, James?" He asked in a gentle tone, and if you didn't know who he was, you would not have believed he bombed the UN and killed countless people, including T'chaka.