[the avengers ➼ imagines]

bucky barnes ≫ its okay

word count: 2044
requested by: BadboyLucas
pairing: bucky x reader
warnings: angsty-ish I guess???, panic attacks
note: this was literally requested like an hour or so ago but I really liked the request so I had to write it lol, hope you like it!

You were always strong, never weak. Everyone always looked to you when situations were pointing south. You were always the person to hold the team together, the shoulder to lean on. So when you were kidnapped, experimented on, tortured, you were no longer the one to confide in.

You were now the one who was rarely ever around, always hiding in the safety of your own room where no one could ever hurt you. It was a surprise if anyone in the team would catch sight of you unless it was a missions. Missions were something you rarely ever went on anymore. You just couldn't face it. You weren't ready.

You felt pathetic, weak and stupid. You were supposed to be an Avenger but you couldn't even leave your room without being filled with a deep feeling of paranoia.

Your relationship with everyone on the team was gone. Everyone missed you. Including Bucky. You were the person to help Bucky adjust to the world after he escaped from HYDRA, you helped him through his PTSD. You would be the one to help in when he would have a panic attack or a nightmare.   Now there was no one there to calm him down after waking up from a nightmare, no one to assure him that everything would be okay when he was suffering a panic attack.

You lay on your bed, curled up into a small ball. You flicked through the pages of the book in your hand. It was your favourite book, you had read it dozens of times but it gave you a sense of comfort.

You jumped out of your skin at the sound of someone knocking on your bedroom door. You ignored the door, knowing whoever was there would eventually go away like always. You turned back to your book but before you could even read a word a second knock sounded.

"(Y/N)" a soft voice spoke, almost a whisper but still loud enough for you to make it out. "(Y/N), please open the door."

"Go away, Natasha." Your croaked, your voice hoarse. That was one of the first times you'd spoken that week. "Please." You affirmed.

The room once again fell into silence. You leaned back into your large chair, glad that you were finally left in peace. Or so you thought.

Only a few seconds later, someone burst through your bedroom door. You shrieked, the book in your hands flying in the direction of the person.

You curled into a tiny ball, your breathing erratic. All of this sudden noise and movement was sending you back to a place that you had been trying to avoid thinking about.

"Please." You cried. "Please, leave me alone." You didn't dare look up, scared that you would come face to face with one of the men that had tortured you mercilessly for weeks on end.

"(Y/N). It's me. It's okay." That voice. It wasn't someone of HYDRA. It was soft and comforting. It was Natasha.

You slowly raised your head, your eyes landing on the familiar red head. Her eyes were filled with concern.

A few tears had escaped and were running down your cheeks. Your hair was stuck to your face with sweat.

You must look pathetic, you thought to yourself.