reader was a highly skilled neuropsychologist who worked for what used to be SHIELD. a couple days after the bombing in vienna, her friend and coworker, sharon carter, asks a favor of her: to relocate to wakanda in order to help treat and rehabilita...
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He didn't like this feeling. No, he didn't like this feeling at all. He hated it, in fact. It was betrayal, bodily betrayal. He just could not sit in that room any longer or he would've peeled his skin off. His lungs felt as if they were bound with barbed wire and the state of his stomach had him worried he was going to throw up. Most of all he felt guilty. How could he have just stormed out of the room like that? (Y/N) is going to hate him now. How could he let this happen?
He was thinking this over whilst sitting at the lake, hands in the grass, trying to distract the physical body from the mental cacophony he had just endured. He had somehow found his way there after leaving (Y/N). These extremely unpleasant sensations were unfamiliar. Was he sick? Could he have been drugged? He was so confused. Bucky realized he seemed to be confused most of the time. Following that realization, he became mildly pissed off.
The super soldier stared out at the lake. It was a calm day, the water tranquil and clear. It was a stark contrast against his stress. He leaned forward and looked into the water at his reflection.
"Damn," he said out loud.
Is that really what I look like now?
His eyes traced over the long shaggy hair, dark under eyes, and the subtle but noticeable worry lines. This sight reminded him of when he broke the mirror at his old place in Bucharest. Now he remembered why. God, he looked as fucked up as he was. He leaned back and tossed a stone at where his reflection had been.
A deep sigh left his lungs, which were now conveniently working properly.
"Fuckers," he muttered, referring to the mercurial organs.
He had spent nearly two years alone in Bucharest, and he had grown accustomed to living in this new body. He was always on edge, that much he could tell. However, he was never too introspective; he never thought about his feelings or his behavior. All he was focused on was surviving. When there is more to life than survival, that's when things get complicated... not that they weren't complicated before. God, he was running in circles inside his own mind. His scarred and ruined and manipulated mind that resided in this body that was used as a tool for destruction and violence and death-
"Hey."
His head whipped around, startled out of his thought frenzy. Always on edge. Mentally, he shook his head in disappointment.
"Oh! (Y/N)!"
He stood up immediately. "Listen, I'm so sorry about before, I don't know what-"
"It's okay," she said quickly, holding up her hands. "Bucky, you do not need to apologize, everything is totally fine."
He was taken aback. Words didn't seem to work.
"I'm not mad if that's what you were thinking," she said.
