SamBucky one-shots

Scares & Hugs

WARNING: This contains detailed writing about self-harm and suicide thoughts, please do NOT read if this could be triggering.

Bucky's POV

I let out a shaky breath, walking into the apartment that Sam and I are staying in while we work the case. Sam lets out an overly-loud yawn. "Well I'm wiped. See ya in the morning." Sam calls over his shoulder, already heading towards his room. I don't bother responding, instead heading towards my own room.

I shut the page color door, making sure to twist the little lock. I kick off my muddy boots while slowly walking over to the small patio connected to my room. I push open the double glass doors and walk out into the chilly night. My phone dings.

Yelena Belova: Hows playing goodie two shoes with Winged Captain going?

I roll my eyes, slipping my phone back into my pocket, not even bothering to type out a reply. I grab a cig out of the box, lighting it with the lighter Yelena gifted me. I take a drag, practically hearing Sam's voice telling me how bad smoking is for me in my head.

I walk back inside once the rain starts, not bothering to close the door. I throw the box of cigarettes onto the bedside table before falling to the ground. I lay down on my side, my eyelids getting heavier every second that passes.

"BRING IT IN!" A man's voice screams out. The iron door to my sell opens. I squint as the light streams into the small concrete cell. Four guards walk in. One of the guards unshackle my arms. "Get up you filthy dog." The guard snarls in Russian. I shakily raise to my feet, feeling the almost healed cuts rip back open. I hold back the pitiful noise trying to claw out of my throat. The same guard shackles my hands together in front of me before grabbing me roughly by my left shoulder. I can't help but let out a little wince. The man lets out a dark evil laugh, digging his fingers deeper into where the flesh meets metal. "Walk you stupid shit."

I walk into a small stall room. "Place it in the chair." A man, around 60 commands. The officers listen, strapping me down to the chair. A slow humming noise starts. I feel every muscle in stiff in. The humming becomes a low wirling sound. I shut my eyes and wait for the pain to began.

I wake with a jerk. I scramble back until my sweaty clothed back hits the cold walls. "Breathe in for seven hold for four, let out in seven." My old therapists voice rings out in my mind. I try to take a deep slow breath in, but the air feels like daggers going through my throat. I lift my flesh hand to my throat. "Breathe in for seven." I try again. A knot starts to form in my throat, making it feel as if someone has their hand wrapped around. I stumble to my feet, grabbing on the nightstand corner to stable myself. I practically collapse onto the too soft mattress. I pull open the nightstand drawer. There lying is a small hunting knife. I slowly pull it out, turning it over gently in the palm of my metal hand. The knife has a Bowie blade, and a leather curved four-finger grip handle. I place the knife down onto the bed. I gently roll up my right sleeve, revealing my pale, almost see through skin. I pick up the knife again and take a deep breath. I slowly place the blade down onto my arm, pushing pressure down on the point. I slowly drag the blade down, watching as blood starts to pool out of the fresh cut. I raise the blade and place it down again, repeating the process.

A knock breaks me out of my trance. My head whips over to the door. "Buck you still up?" Sam voice asks from behind the door. I look down at my bloody arm. "Yeah, hold on." I call, forcing my voice to be neutral. I slip the knife into the back of my pants, standing up from the bed. I pull down my shirtsleeve, ignoring the sting of pain from the fabric rubbing on the wounds.

I open the door to see the one and only Sam Wilson. "What?" I snap. Sam frowns.
"What's got your panties in a twist?"
I let out a deep sigh while leaning against the door-frame. "Nothing, just tired. What's up?" I ask. Sam opens his mouth to respond but cuts himself off. I raise a brow.
"You're bleeding." He states. My eyes widen. I look down at my right arm and sure enough blood is dripping off my hand onto the floor. I jerk up. "What happened?" Sam asks, with that stupid fucking tone he uses when he's worried about me. "Nothing." I whisper, reaching for the door. Sam being Sam decides to invite himself into my room instead of minding his own business.
"Let me see." Sam states, reaching out for my arm. I stumble back, cradling my arm close to my chest. "It's fine. I'll take care of it."
"No let me help." Sam insists while walking closer. Before I can tell him to rightfully fuck off, he grabs my wrists and yanks up my now blood covered sleeve. Sam freezes.
I use this to my advantage and yank my wrist out of his grasp, stumbling over to the balcony.
"Buck," Sam starts. "Don't," I say, cutting him off. "I don't want to hear it, just get out." I state, my voice breaking at the end. Sam lightly shakes his head. "I can't do that man, you know that. Let me help you."
I shake my head no, feeling like a five year old. I stumble backwards out into the balcony. Sam starts to walk towards me. I slip the knife from earlier out and hold it up. "Get the fuck out Sam." I growl out, holding the knife up as a clear threat. Sam freezes.
"Buck," he begins, holding his hands up in the "I come in peace" way. "Let's think this through okay?"
I shake my head no.
"I mean it Sam. Get out."
Sam lightly sighs. "You know I can't do that man. Let me help you clean up those cuts before they get infected. Okay?" Sam says while taking a couple of steps closer.
"You can't help." I whisper, feeling the night breeze cut though me.
"Sure I can. It's just you and me. You know? No one else." Sam takes a few more steps closer.
"Drop the knife Buck."
"I could hurt you." I state, not in a threatening way but in a matter-of-the-fact way.
Sam nods.
"You could, but you won't."
I drop the knife. It clatters to the floor, little droplets of blood staining the concrete. Sam rushes over, wrapping his arms around my neck, pulling me into a hug. I let out an ugly sob.
"I-I'm s-sorry." I sob into Sam's shoulder.
"Shhhh," Sam soothes. "It's okay. You're going to be okay. We're going to get through this together."

Word count: 1201

*awkwardly walks out onto a overly bright stage squinting*
Okayyyyyy so I did not mean to leave y'all out cold and dry. Life just got busy and I blinked and now it's mid January.
I will try to get another one-shot out this week......

Also! This amazing idea came from @aBuckyBarnesFan. Thank you so much for this idea and I hope it lives up to what you imagined!

And of course if no one has told you this today you are loved beyond words and deserve all the happy things life has to offer. Never let anyone tell you your worth and always remember that this world is a trillion times better with you in it!!