One-Shot Fanfic Imagines

15th (BUCKY BARNES) 1

>Reader is a caregiver to mentally-illed patients at a criminal asylum, where Barnes is admitted for nearly five years. Reader is in-charged of the high-profile assassin after how many caregivers seemed to avert from the man.

>Serial killer Bucky (6 part story)

OVER-ALL WARNINGS: Violence, cursing, explicit scenes, stalking (if that triggers something), and everything that's definitely not for kids. Read at your own risk.

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"Don't forget your electric-zap-thing, (y/n)."

The woman by the counter, Viola, reminded you as you pushed the cart out of your quarters. She was your companion for the day shift along with the guards on stand-by on each floor.

You smiled at her way, fishing for the device in your coat pocket and showed it to her. "Taser, Viola."

She threw her hands up mid-air, a lopsided smirk on her face. "Whatevah. Go on, child. Go on now."

You rolled your eyes at her as you chuckled, rolling the cart once again and walking through the long and eerie hallways of the establishment.

For starters, this was never your dream job. After you graduated from an undergraduate Psychology degree program, you wanted to go to graduate school and earn a Ph.D. in Experimental Psychology, earn a license, and have your own office near the city. You had always been so interested with human mind and behavior, and you knew better than anyone that it was the only professiom you were willing to work with for the rest of your life.

And of course, following that program was your study of mentally-demented people. Like serial killers, for one. You had read about them, seen them on random murder documentaries, heard about them, and even studied them. And it turned out pretty useful after you were accepted as one of the caregivers in a far-off asylum for high-profiled criminals.

Though you would roam the halls day by day, right until your shift ends, and give food and rations to some of the patients, you were assigned particularly on one man. Most of the workers here call him by his name, James. But the tenured ones refer him by what they say his nickname, Bucky.

He stood out from the rest of the patients inside, as he was the only one who had a bionic arm attached to his severed limb. You had no idea what exactly happened to him, or why the people he was affiliated before did that to him.

You never knew why he was called Bucky, though. There doesn't seem to be a Bucky in the name James, but you never mind. You had been taking care of him for almost a month now, and so far, all you got were lingering stares and raised brows.

You were on the way to his solidary cell, he was placed far from other patients after he reportedly killed his previous cellmates, to which you never knew for yourself.

You fished for the key in your coat pocket, and inserted it through the hole. A loud thud of metal door opening filled the empty halls, revealing a man sitting on the concrete bed, his hands chained in heavy metal cuffs. His eyes were set on a hundred yard gaze, staring through the walls, not even blinking for a split second. His hair was already reaching his shoulders, and his beard was long and scruffy. You reminded yourself that you'll bring in a pair of scissors and a razor tomorrow, only if he'll be okay with it.

You cleared your throat, getting his attention. "Good morning...James."

He looked at you with hooded eyes, still not saying anything. Well, what's new?

You walked in to his cell, closing the door behind you. His eyes followed your every movement, as you laid his plate filled with food and the glass of water on the table infront of him. James never ate on his own, the thick metal of his cuffs preventing him to do so.