Steve Rogers And Bucky Barnes Images

Sudden

Warnings - Panic Attack, self Doubt, mentions of neglect and torture, claustrophobia? (I don't know, it's just mentioned)

Translations are in paranthesis in the order they are spoken :)

It came out of nowhere. You were fine thirty seconds before. Then, your mind was racing, and your heart rate was speeding up. You could no longer hear the tv in the background, and the glass you had in your hands was falling to the kitchen floor as panic set in.

"Нет, Нет," you whisper and try to pick up the mess below you, but your vision fuzzes as nausea hits at full speed. And before you know it, laboured breaths were coming out as pants and failed attempts of trying to get an even rhthym of practiced breathing you had went through with солдат. It wasn't working, though, and you were still suffering as you leaned on the counter to stop yourself from falling.

(No. No)

Before it can get worse, you leave the room to go into the one you memorized, not even knocking as you leaned on the door. Your head fell back as tears rolled down your cheeks from the defeat, missing the feeling of hands on your waist to pull you back to reality.

What did it, was the voice cutting into your trapped and clouded mind when you were pulled into a familiar embrace you called safety. "Y/N, it's okay, you're okay." The words were lies to you, and you pushed away to keep from passing out with the claustrophobia feeling that drowned over your shaking body. "Doll, look at me." The request went over your head, and you tried to keep balance with your hands on his forearms, one flesh, one metal.

"Я не могу - я не могу дышать." Panting, you close your eyes to try and imagine things in a more positive manner like you were taught, but, again, it failed to help you.

(I can't- I can't breathe)

Your sweaty hair is moved from your face as hands caress your cheeks in a firm and sweet way. "Y/N, just listen to me." The voice was back in your ears as the thought of them finding you again filled your mind. Two different things clashing together like fists in a fight.

"Я не ... пожалуйста, не позволяйте им." Breaths of words skip past your lips like the wind, and barely make it to the form of coherentness for the man standing in front of you. "Не позволяй им забрать меня," you beg softly when a memory hits you with no mercy.

(I don't- please, don't let them)
(Don't let them take me)

Your stomach turns to a point of throwing up, but you don't have the energy to do the action, just wheezing as the air gets pushed out of your body with a such force that causes you to be lightheaded.

"Y/N, I'm right here." The words were supposed to help you feel assured, but with the situation, you didn't feel any such thing. The opposite, actually. Your parents sent you away, they lied to you, told you they would be there for you.

Even with your begs, they shoved you into the truck themselves and slammed the door shut after stabbing you three times with syringes full of morphine and chloroform.

You were wiped endlessly of your memories and forced to kill without a second thought alongside the man you only knew as солдат (Soldier). After awhile, he started helping you get your own memories back after he was getting his, telling you stories about some man named Steve he knew in his past.

Though, you were different than him, and was wiped every morning, sometimes two to three times a day. You barely knew how to talk after eight years, it was a shocker to be able to walk or use your hands. But, солдат never stopped trying to help. That was until he left and never came back from a mission, leaving you in the hell hole you only knew as home.

Trapped in a confined space that was your body length of room for another year and a half, forced you into a shell of fear and the edge of insanity. Men were slowly disappearing, and soon enough, it was only you and two others agents.

Yet, the routine never stopped, and you were their entertainment. Wiping went from every twelve or eight hours, to every twenty minutes. To make it fun, they told you your name before putting you under the machine again, just so you could forget it and start over.

When it was just you, you were barely alive when солдат finally found you. Your mind was scrambled and your brain links barely worked to understand the language he was speaking. Which, was one you only knew as Russian. He had to talk slowly and only use small words a child could use until a few months after you were out of there to get your strength back. Even then you barely knew how to talk, or even hold something other than a knife.

"Д / Н, послушай меня." His tone is nothing but soft and caring as he held you to him. "Я не позволю им забрать тебя," he promises with ease, and tangles his fingers in your hair as you shake against him.

(Y/N, listen to me)
(I won't let them take you)

He wasn't expecting a response from you due to the lack of communication skills you had. You barely knew how to speak in the first place. So to hear you begging him for mercy made him realize how serious the situation was.

Your fingers clutched to the shirt he was wearing as your knees slightly buckled, and felt him tighten his grip on your waist when you leaned into him more. A rush of blood went to your head with a new memory, and you whimpered at the sudden pain, burying your head in his shoulder when your head pounded against your skull.

"I know, I know," he cooed in your ear, and moved back to the bed to lay you down. Sweat started beading your forehead and temple, and your cheeks were flushed from the lack of air. Your ears were still ringing from the panic in your mind, and it only got louder the more you remembered.

But, it wasn't your parents anymore, it was you being alone with the two men. The slight whisper of your name, then the sudden pain electrifying, burning, your brain from the shock. A scream released from your throat, and a second round of tears rushed down your cheeks in a wave of fear and torturous pain as if you were getting surgery on your already broken and healed, broken and healed, brain.

In an instant, you were being scooped up and held in солдатский arms in a way to help soothe you. He rocked you back and forth with your body pressed against his as his door opened by his friend, who was helping him hide. He gave a worried look before quietly shutting the door and walking over to rub your back.

(Soldier's)

The sudden feel of someone else's touch made you jump. The action didn't go unnoticed, and солдат quietly assured you everything was okay. His fingertips danced across your skin with featherlight touches that you seemed to have been missing, and broke the fever that was rising, and split the thoughts that acted as clouds in your brain. His lips lingered on your head after giving it a kiss, and he continued to hum a song you had found calming a few weeks ago.

After awhile, you started to calm down with his tactics, and your breath slows down to a pace you can finally breathe in. With the pain in your head and low energy fueling through you, you find yourself unable to move from the position he has you in. One of his arms are curled under your legs, while his other supports your back as you lay across him.

He lets his forehead rest against yours as he lightly sings to ease away the bad thoughts and energy that just came from you. When you finally look at him for the first time since being in his room, his eyes stare into yours in a state of calm that mixes with his objective. He moves his arm from beneath your legs to move loose hair away from your eyes, and he places his lips on your forehead, checking your temperature, as well as giving a silent assurance that he's there.

The sudden feeling of exhaustion pulls your eyes close, and you let yourself be in the moment with him, not missing how he lays you down on the mattress and pulls you to his chest. His friend had already left when you had gotten calm again, leaving the two of you alone to give privacy.

"Ты всегда будешь в безопасности со мной, моя маленькая тень," he whispers to you before you finally doze off, and you finally respond.

(You will always be safe with me, my little shadow)

"Спасибо, солдат."

(Thank you, Soldier)

Word Count - 1531