Marvel Imagines & Preferences

Bucky- Talk Me Down

Inspired by the phenomenal song Talk Me Down by Troye Sivan. I live for it. I live for Bucky. It all works

Bucky sat in his apartment in Brooklyn late one night. All the lights were off, and the only noise was the ever present traffic on the streets below. He looked down at his phone that sat on the coffee table, and suppressed every urge to pick it up and call Y/N. He knew he couldn't keep putting you through this. He couldn't give her what she wanted. But all he wanted was to wake up next to her, hold hands with her, come home to her. But he knew that was impossible. He stood from his spot on the couch and walked into the bathroom, looking at his reflection in the mirror.

He stared at the huge, ugly hunk of metal attached to him and grimaced. The amount of times he had wanted to beat it off with a wrench were innumerable, and just looking at it made him angry. Suddenly, Bucky felt a surge of frustration, and before he knew it, his fist had shattered the glass.

***

You shot up from your light sleep at the sound of a heavy knock on your front door. Immediately, your stomach dropped. Your first thought was Bucky. You were his emergency contact at SHIELD, which meant that if anything were to happen to him, you would be the first one notified. So you rushed to the door, unlocking it and ripping it open. What waited for you wasn't much happier than a SHIELD agent.

Bucky stood there, looking worse than you'd ever seen him before. He had dark circles under his eyes, his hair was pulled out of his face in a small bun, and his hand was bleeding slightly.

"What are you doing here?" You whispered. "It's 3 am."

You and Bucky were complicated. You guys had tried the whole dating thing, but it didn't really work out. But, you couldn't stay away from each other. He said he loved you, and you know he meant it, but he refused to let you become too attached. So, he'd stick around for a few weeks like a normal boyfriend, then go totally off the grid when things started to get too real. The last time you had seen him, you had given him and ultimatum. He needed to stop running away and commit, or you two were done for good.

"Do you remember what you told me last year?" He asked quietly.

You became more worried as you noticed his blank eyes staring at the ground. "Bucky, what's wrong?"

"You said that I needed to come to you, i-if I ever had those thoughts again. If my mind ever went to that place. You said to go find you." You felt your heart break as he looked up at you. "I didn't want to be alone."

You put your arms around him quickly and pulled him inside, fighting every instinct to burst into tears. You lead him into your room and into the bed. He sat up against the headboard, and you sat right next to him, your arms around his shoulders.

"What do you want me to do?" You asked.

"Just talk," he breathed, "About anything. Please."

So you started to talk. For hours, you talked about all the good memories you two had together. Like the time you decided to take a trip for the weekend, but didn't plan a destination, so you just drove until you felt like you were far enough from the city. And when Bucky tried to make you dinner on your birthday and almost burnt down his apartment in the process. And when he told you he was in love with you, and you said you loved him too. By the time you got to this story, you felt yourself becoming choked up, and Bucky looked over at you, his eyes sad.

"I shouldn't have come," he murmured.

"Don't say that," you shook your head, taking his face in your hands and pressing your forehead against his. "Please, please don't say that."

And suddenly, you were kissing him. It was like no time had passed since you had last been together, and you had picked up right where you had left off. After several minutes, your hands moved to take off his shirt, but he stopped you.

"We can't," he said lowly, "I can't do this to you."

"Why do you always say that?" You said shakily, backing away. "Why can't you just let us be happy?!"

"Because if we're together you won't be happy!" He replied. "The less attached you are to me the easier your life is going to be, Y/N."

"You don't get to make my decisions," you snapped, "I know what I'd be getting into, and I want it. I want it so bad, Bucky."

"I'm scared," he whispered after a moment.

"You don't have to be," you told him, putting your hand on his cheek. "I'm always going to be here, Bucky, I promise."

He wrapped his arms around your shoulders and drew you towards him until you were as close as physically possible. You buried your head in Bucky's neck and bit your lip slightly to prevent yourself from crying.

"Thank you," he murmured huskily, resting his head on top of yours. "For everything you do for me. I don't deserve it."

"I love you, Bucky."

"I love you."