Marvel Imagines

Overthinking And Overtired (Bucky Barnes X Reader)

The rain splashes against the glass windowpane at your side, a rumble of thunder shaking the features of the room you're in.

However, the violent weather doesn't bother the pitiful state of your form - curled up on the floor of your bedroom, blankets surrounding you, a pillow propped up beneath your head.

You're a shaking, sniffling mess, quite frankly - even before the thunderstorm had decided to roll in.

See, when the darkness begins to settle and the chatter around the Complex fades for the day, that leaves you completely alone.

And being alone is never good, especially when your thoughts begin to get at you.

At first it's fairly simple; just ignore them. They'll go away with time.

But as the darkness stretches on and sleep doesn't find you, your fight against the rising, nagging thoughts weakens, allowing them to finally slip into your mind.

So that's where you are now - completely succumbed to these dark, negative and rather horrible, thoughts, now working on keeping your tears at bay.

Which, you can't say you're succeeding.

Why am I like this?

I shouldn't even bother to speak - I just get talked over.

No one cares.

Why am I always the one who people come to with their issues? Maybe I should just put up my defences again.

That thought urges you to frown, a new type of sorrow tugging at your heart, your hands grasping the blanket around you and pulling it tighter.

"But if I block them all out, I'll be lonely again," You reason with yourself in a faint, broken, wavering murmur.

If I'm by myself, no one can hurt me, then.

Sure, but I've made friends - family here!

They don't care. They just talk over me anyways.

Letting out a strangled cry of absolute frustration, you drag your palms down your face and begin to sob, simply unable to care about holding the tears at bay any longer.

"This is freakin' ridiculous..." You breathe out shakily in between sobs, trying to piece together some sort of composure - some sanity.

Muttering a slew of profanities beneath your breath to no one in particular, you snuggle deeper into your blanket cocoon, hugging yourself in a vain attempt at comforting your broken state.

The action reminds you of the last time someone held you - that was a long time ago now...

It was on a flight home after a Mission.

You'd been shot - nothing too major, but had been in and out of consciousness, nonetheless.

And a certain brown haired, blue eyed, metal armed, Super-Soldier had held you close the entire way home - not even leaving your side until you'd been treated and were on the mend.

That was months ago, years it feels like in this moment.

But as you lay there, a sobbing, shaking, quivering mess, you can't help but begin to long for the comforting feeling of his embrace.

****

Some time seems to pass and the storm outside continues its howling.