Inspired By Taylor Swift Series

Down Bad (Marvel)

Anonymous Request from Tumblr: "Here me out. Grumpy!Bucky x Sunshine!Reader but based on Down Bad from Taylor's new album. I feel like there would be such an interesting story!"

Summary - You were down bad for Bucky Barnes. You had a cosmic love with Bucky Barnes. But when you woke, you woke in blood, naked and alone, still you might just stay down bad.

Pairing - Bucky Barnes x Reader 

"I might just not get up, I might just stay down bad..."

Alright, hear me out...

BAMF!SHIELDAgent!Reader x Bucky.

Together, you were the definition of a power couple. There was no one better, no higher peak. Practically untouchable. You set the standard.

And now, you wish you could un-recall how you almost had it all.

Because it was over.

He sent hurtling back down to Earth without a second thought.

And you couldn't lie, you hit the pavement hard.

You were down bad. Worse than you could ever imagined. Most days, you debated on not getting back up, but you knew that wasn't really an option.

Not when people looked to you, watching and waiting. It was like you lost your twin. And while you mourned losing your other half, you felt naked and alone. Watched by all, consoled by none.

The sick part was that you never wanted this. You never asked to be thrown into the orbit of Bucky Barnes. You never wanted him to tell you that you were special, never wanted him to tell you were the chosen one. You didn't want him to show you that the world was so much bigger than the confines of your life. You never wanted him to make you feel safe in his arms.

So how dare he think it was romantic to leave you safe and stranded?

Some days, you stared at the sky and quietly pleaded for him to come get you.

You never wanted to need him. You never wanted any of it. You were perfectly fine on your own.

But you can't deny, you really loved his hostile takeover.

And just as easily, he left you all alone.

All alone trapped inside a person you no longer recognized.

This wasn't you. You were strong. Independent. You were the standard. You were the pinnacle. Not the person who burst into tears at the gym. You weren't the person who slammed on the emergency stop button because sobs wracked through your entire body.

But as you stood in the center of the training room, all eyes on you, there's no denying how he made a mess of you.

It was Wanda that pulled you into the locker room away from prying eyes. You furiously wipe away your tears, staring up at the ceiling - both to keep the tears at bay and to beg him to beam you up to that cloud of sparkling dust once more.

"Are you sure you're okay for this?" Wanda asks, she rests an easy hand on your back.

You roll your shoulders back, steeling yourself, "I've got this."

"You just - you haven't exactly been yourself lately. I'm worried about you."

"Just because I'm single?" You feel the tears welling in your eyes again. "Because I was so fucking down bad for him."

"Don't say that."

You've lost count of the amount of times you've cried this week, but you impatiently groan at yourself as you feel hot, stinging tears slip down your cheeks again. "I can't believe I'm actually crying."

"You're hurting. It's okay not to be a bad ass every second of the day."

"Fuck," you whimper, your head falling onto Wanda's shoulder. "I was so in love with him."

"I know, I know," she coos, stroking the back of your head. "He's not doing any better - if that makes you feel any better."

It doesn't make you feel better. The thought of him hurting nearly as much as you were only made it hurt more. It only made you ache for him more. You would either go down with the ship you built with him or burn as he held the matches.

You shake your head, pulling away from her. You rake your hands through your hair, then harshly rub your hand over your face. "Let's just get this over with."

"Are you sure?"

"It would make no difference if I was sure. Fuck it if I can't have him."

You really, truly can't believe you were this stupid. You can't believe you allowed yourself to get lost in his opal eyes. Never in a million years would you have wanted this.

To involve yourself with someone so irrevocably intertwined with your life. Because now, now, you had to listen to the stranger that knew every inch of your mind, body, and soul give you orders and directives on dangerous, life threatening missions.

Mere minutes after a full breakdown in the training room, you had to stand before him in the conference room all alone and listen to him talk like nothing happened.

"Are you sure you're up for this?" he asks, concern shining in his familiar blue eyes.

You roll your eyes, snorting, "Don't patronize me."

"I'm not. I'm just checking on you."

"Well, that's not your job anymore," you spit. "How about we focus on our actual job?"

"Fine." His spine stiffens, his jaw ticking as he speaks through clenched teeth, "Are we clear on the plan?"

The words leave your mouth without a second thought, "Would it matter if we weren't?"

"I thought we were going to be mature about this," Bucky's voice comes out low, so similar to the quiet rumble of his voice first thing in the morning.

You scoop up your share of your files and turn on your heels without another word. Without thinking, he reaches out, placing a hand on your shoulder to stop you.

The weight of his familiar touch is a shock to your system.

You know the mature thing to do. You should apologize. You should carry yourself with grace. You should set boundaries. You should hold your head high.

But lately, everything comes out with a teenage petulance. So fuck him. Fuck him for breaking your heart. Fuck him for taking away the love of your life. And fuck him for being the loss of your life.

You wrench your shoulder out of his grip. "Fuck you."