Avengers Imagines (Part One)

Bucky Barnes X Reader - Madness

A/N - This imagine is based on the lyrics to 'Madness' by Muse. There is a just a little warning that this imagine will deal with mental health issues and PTSD, so if those are likely to effect you negatively please do not read. I hope you all enjoy it.

You hadn't slept properly in weeks. It was the same thing, over and over in your head, ever since you had come back from the blip. You thought about it at every waking moment, and now, it had begun to infiltrate your dreams too, shaking you awake and leaving you restless for the rest of the night.

It had quickly become normal for you to only sleep for an hour or two a night, and soon after waking you would find yourself in the kitchen. Coffee was the only way to keep yourself awake most of the time, and that, paired with a cool shower, was enough to bring you fully to life. As the coffee brewed, you would linger in the kitchen, wondering what was going on in the streets outside. 

A cough startled you out of your thoughts one night, drawing your attention back to the room as you turned to face the doorway, finding Bucky standing there, looking absolutely shattered. "Hey," he uttered quietly, rubbing at his eyes as he came into the room, grabbing a glass and filling it with water.

"Hey," you answered quickly, brows knitting together for a moment, "what are you doing up?"

Bucky shrugged, glancing over at you as he sipped from his glass. "Couldn't sleep." You nodded slightly, turning back to your mug when the coffee machine pinged to tell you it was finished. "You too?"

"Yeah," you murmured, lifting the mug in your hands to warm your palms. "Super tired but can't get any sleep."

"I'd noticed," he told you, pausing when your brow crinkled in confusion. "You've been seeming a little out of it recently."

"Oh," you hummed softly, "didn't realise it was so noticeable."

Bucky was quiet for a moment, mouth hanging open as he considered his next sentence. "I guess I'm just hyper-aware of that sort of stuff," he murmured, shaking his head, "Nightmares are, like, the one thing I understand."

"You get them too?"

He nodded, "yeah."

"How'd you get them to stop?"

Bucky gave you a sweet smile, moving to sit at the island with his glass. You listened quietly as it clinked against the counter, silently waiting for his answering. "Honestly? I still get them," he told you softly, "but counselling helped. I don't get them as often as I used to. Once or twice a week instead of every night." 

You nodded, pulling yourself up onto one of the counters and tucking your legs under yourself. "I don't know anything about counselling," you murmured, "I'm no good at all that talking about your feelings crap."

Bucky snorted with laughter, shaking his head. "It's a little more scientific than that." You leant back slightly, your head knocking against the cupboard door as you chuckled slightly. "I can give you my therapist's number, if you want. I've got her card." 

"Yeah," you murmured, shifting to look at him again, "that's probably a good idea."

*Time Skip*

The next night, when you woke, sweating and writhing on your bed, tears streaming down your face, you had gotten up straight away. There was no way you could stay in bed now, you were too restless and you needed to be away from your room. Almost as though on instinct, you had begun wandering the halls, pondering the idea of going to therapy. 

It would be difficult, you knew that already. You found it hard enough to be open with your friends, and you had no idea how you would manage it with a total stranger. But Bucky had said she was the best in town, and you trusted him, even if you weren't extraordinarily close.