James Buchanan Barnes Imagines

The known and Unknown

Requested by anonymous.

Unedited.

P.S. If anyone cares, update on the new story "I'm coming home." :)

To say you had nightmares from time to time was an understatement. You had them all the time, weather it was closing your eyes for a nap or a full on sleep. It wasn't unknown that you were the baddest of the group, but it wasn't known that you suffered just as bad as Bucky did because you did worse than he did. You were a great assassin, you even managed to drop Bucky and Steve a couple times, but everything good came with a price. And that price included your sleep.

No one in the Tower knew you had this problem, you always managed to keep it silent everytime you had a nightmare. Sometimes you'd wake up crying and try your best to muffle the sounds, other times you'd soundproof your room as soon as you went to bed. The memories of the darker side of you crept through the half of your brain, terrorizing and taunting you about your past. You were created to kill, to be put on a straight and dark path, to pave the way for Hydra. You were created to be a Winter Soldier and your dreams kept reminding you of that. That one kill, or the next one, or the one after that. It was a constant reminder that what Hydra created you to be was still in you, waiting for that moment to jump out and ruin what great things you've accomplished after the incident. You liked that no one knew what you were going through, because then they wouldn't see the darker side of you replace the one they know. The strong, brave, and funny you.

But, one night, you weren't so strong to keep your nightmares to yourself, neither were you brave about getting caught. One specific night, Bucky was up in his bedroom, staring at the ceiling. The nightmare he had 3 days ago still lingered in his mind, he was unable to even get 2 seconds of shut eye. As he gathered himself up, he left his room and headed straight to the kitchen thinking a snack would help clear his head a bit. It was working, until your screams peirced the silence he was sitting in. At first, he thought it was him having another hallucination about another kill, but when the screaming didn't get cut off he knew it was now in the Tower somewhere. Hurriedly, he stood up, almost tripping himself as he looked for the source. It took one final scream for him to be standing infront of your door. The last scream was nothing more than altering, as if you'd been shot dead center of your chest. Natasha busted through her door, a gun in her hand, and her electric rod in the other. Her hair was all over the place and her face was nothing but determined to get rid of the problem.

"Who the fuck is hurt and who hurt them?!" She shouted, waking up Sam and Steve.

"What's going on?" Steve yawned, scratching his hair and looking around, "Who screamed? Was it you, Buck?"

"What? No." Bucky immediately shot Steve down, "It was Y/n, I think. I-I don't know if it's for real or not, but she sounds like she's having a nightmare."

"A nightmare?" Sam sighed, "Y/n? But she's never had one of those, let alone one that might startle Tony."

"So?" Nat spoke, dropping her stance, "What are you doing standing there?! Go help my best friend or I'll do it."

"Me?!" Buckys eyes widened, as he pointed to himself, "I'm probably the last person she'd want to see."

"No! Please, I'm begging you-" You shouted from the other side of your door.

"Buck." Steve gave a small smile, watching as Natasha and Sam retreated to their rooms, "Go help her. She's more comfortable with you, trust me."

And with that, Steve was gone as well. Bucky was standing alone infront of your door, millions of questions running through his very confused brain. When your screaming didn't stop, he had made up his mind to help you. Mostly because Natasha would probably shock him and put a bullet through his leg for not helping her best friend, she's very protective of you. Hesitantly, he reached for the door knob and turned it, stepping inside, and silently closing the door behind him. He saw you thrashing around in your sheets, tears ran down your face, and your hands gripped your blankets firmly. Bucky walked over and placed a hand on your shoulder, to which you immediately opened your eyes and grabbed it, easily throwing him across the room. He slammed his back against your work desk, letting out a cry of pain before hitting the floor. In a matter of seconds, you were by his side, a gun placed on the back of his head, and your foot smashed into his spine.