#reader x bucky barnes
Can’t Outrun the Past (Part 1)
A/N: Oh man friends. This is ANGST. That’s it. Just angst. I am not sure where the series is going, but it’s going to be a rough read until then. We’re going to pretend that this works with the timeline, k? haha
Pairing: reader x ex!Bucky Barnes, reader x friend!Steve Rogers
Warnings: drug use, alcohol abuse, angst, so much angst, cute worried Steve Rogers, post End Game trauma, drug use. It’s just angsty. Don’t read if that’s not good for you right now.
Word Count: 1907 words
You stumble through the door after a night of forgetting. The sun was beginning to peak through the window, and you yank the curtains closed with a huff. Your shoes come off one by one, and you barely make it to your bed before collapsing, asleep in a just a few moments.
You are awoken sometime later by your phone buzzing. You groan, fumbling around for it on your nightstand when you remember it was still in your purse, which was also, still, around your neck. You sit up, digging through it before finding it. It stops ringing just as you pull it out but seeing a missed call from Steve meant you wouldn’t have answered it anyways. You flop back onto your pillow, scrolling through your missed calls. Over the past few years, he had called you almost every month, but you never answered. All his messages were saved, and you’d replay them occasionally, especially when you were feeling particularly bad about yourself.
While you wait for his inevitable message, you plug your phone in on your nightstand, and stumble to the bathroom. You look in the mirror and chuckle. Your hair is like a lion’s mane and makeup is smeared down your face. The closer you inspect, though, the more you notice the smaller details. Your eyes are bloodshot. Your cheeks sunken. Your skin, always very vibrant, is dull and dry. It doesn’t take long in your self-pity to glance at the small orange pill bottle on the counter.
The first time you took pain meds was for a good reason. You can’t even remember the fight but fighting alongside the Avengers meant you were bound to get hurt once or twice. The Oxycontin took the edge off the pain. It was a welcomed relief from the crazy that was your life. The problem, though, was that you liked the feeling. It took the edge off the pain, yes, but also the edge off life. It didn’t take long until you were getting yourself injured on purpose, dodging a knife a little too slowly, or trying to take on more than you were capable of handling on your own. Then you met Bucky.
You shake your head at that thought and open the pill bottle. It calls to you with promises of peace and you take 2 in your hand and pop them in your mouth, not even needing water to get them down anymore. It only takes a few minutes before they start to work, spreading calm tingles through your body. You wash your face and try to put your hair into a bun, but remember that Steve had probably left you a message. With a huff, you walk back to your bed and sit on the edge. You unlock your phone and click on the New Voicemail notification. Steve’s voice fills the speaker.
“Hey Y/N, it’s… uh… Steve. Obviously. I am not even sure if this is your number anymore, but…” he pauses for a long time, and you swear you hear a sniffle. “Something has happened. Tony is… Tony is gone, Y/N. He’s gone and we’re doing a memorial at the lake house tomorrow. On Saturday. He would have wanted you there, Y/N. We all want you there.” He pauses again, then clears his throat. “Please. Anyways. Uh. Bye.” The message ends and your heart stalls in your chest. You stare ahead, not blinking. A tear rolls from your eyes.
Tony was more like a father to you than your own father was, but you hadn’t talked to him in a few years. Not since the blip anyways. He called, just like Steve, but you never answered. You knew he could track you. He could have showed up any time he wanted, but you also knew that he respected your privacy and knew you needed space.
Thoughts race around your head, dulled by the pain medication that suns through your blood. You feel the walls start to close in and, with shaking hands and unsteady legs, you make your way to the kitchen, to the unopened bottle of vodka that sits on the back of the counter. You open it easily and take a long swig. It burns going down the back of your throat, but you don’t even care. You continue drinking until the bottle feels heavy in your hand. Soon, you feel your head start to swim and you barely make it to the couch before your legs give out and everything goes black.
You wake up in the middle of the night, having slept for almost 18 hours. You feel like shit, of course, your head pounding and your skin crawling. You shuffle to the bathroom, popping 3 more pills before splashing your face with water. You don’t even bother looking in the mirror this time. You close your eyes, steadying yourself, then crawl into bed and wait for the darkness to come again.
You wake up to the sun and wish you didn’t. You roll over and see that it is the next day. There was a part of you that wishes you had just slept through it, but fate wasn’t so nice this time. You lay awake in bed, not even sure if you are going to the memorial. Your black dress hangs in the closet, all pressed and ready, but you stare at the ceiling and weigh the need for closure with having to see Bucky again.
Bucky came into your life in its darkest moments. He gravitated toward you because, like himself, you had your own fair share of demons. You never looked at him like a monster because you knew that everyone just had to do what kept them alive. He was the first person to notice your drug problem and held your hand through the detox and everything that came along with it. You comforted him through his nightmares and helped him through his trauma.
In the end, though, you were too screwed up and he simply wasn’t ready. Everyone knew it was mutual, but when you said you needed to leave, no one questioned why. It was too hard being there, in the compound. At first, you kept in touch with Tony and Steve. But everyone seemed to be moving on and you were honestly happy for them.
Then the blip happened. Life descended into chaos all around you and it was a chance meeting with an old friend that brought the pills back into your life. You ran into him while getting lunch and decided to catch up. He had told you that he was a doctor now, and suggested you go see him about an old back injury that had flared up. It wasn’t until he handed you the prescription for oxy that it even dawned on you that you could get more pills. You held onto that prescription for weeks, staring at it every now and again, before you filled it. And it took weeks before you took the first one. All at once, though, the world slipped away, and you got a good nights’ sleep for the first time in years, and it spiraled from there.
You kept telling yourself you could always stop. But that bottle turned into another, then another, and when your friend stopped prescribing them for you, you turned to your neighbor who you knew dealt. He knew a guy who could get you what you needed and more, but you never said yes to anything besides oxy. Until a few weeks ago when you went to a rave, and you weren’t even sure what you had taken. The days since then have been filled with booze and pills and whatever else you could get your hands on to lose reality.
Now, though, standing in front of the mirror in your bathroom trying to make your face look less sick and trying to make your dress lay right when you were sure it fit correctly, not hanging off your bones awkwardly, you realize that you may have a problem. You sigh.
“A problem for another day,” you say out loud to yourself while popping 3 pills in your mouth, swallowing them with a swig of vodka.
By the time you get to the lake house your bones are shaking. From nervousness or the pills or something else entirely, but you just know you’re shaking. You stare out the windshield toward the house and decide you can’t do it. You’re sure that you’re going to pass out or something. You are ready to put the car back in drive when you hear a knock on your window. You glance over, blonde poofy hair and Steve Roger’s face. You sigh. You put the car in park and turn it off. You take a deep breath before opening your door.
“Hi,” he says softly, looking at you. If he notices your eyes or sunken face, he doesn’t mention it. Instead, he wraps you in a bone crushing hug, which you chuckle at.
“Hi Steve,” you mumble into his shirt, hoping not to wipe off any of your makeup, but you’re pretty sure you do anyways.
“You came.” It’s not a question, but as he pulls away from you, he touches your shoulders softly, almost as if he was trying to convince himself that you really were there.
“I came.” Your words come out a little shaky, but Steve just places his hand in your own. He gives it a squeeze but doesn’t move.
“You’re shaking.” You yank your hand back, cursing the shakes, but you smile, hopefully convincingly.
“Just nervous,” you say, but you don’t think he buys it. He doesn’t say anything, though, just nods.
“Shall we?” he asks, gesturing toward the lake house. You take a deep breath and nod softly. You walk beside him, your knees shaking and your legs threatening to give out. By the time you reach the doors, you are sure you’re going to pass out.
“You okay, Y/N?” Steve asks as you sit on the bottom step of the stairs up to the house, concern lacing his voice.
“Mmhmm, just need a minute,” you squeak out, trying to breathe deeply and get the darkness on the edges of your periphery to disappear. You almost curse under your breath when he squats in front of you.
“What’s wrong?” His eyes are filled with concern, and you want to tell him to go inside, that you’ll catch up, that you’re fine, but you can’t get the words out. You feel like you’re floating, just above unconsciousness, and you can’t move. You can’t talk. You just sit and wait.
“Y/N?” Steve says, probably about ready to call Bruce to come help by the look in his eyes, but you nod weakly.
“I’m fine. Just a bit dizzy,” you lie, quietly. The darkness recedes from your vision, and you decide you’re okay to stand up. Steve scrambles to stand up and help but you know that you’ve spooked him. He knows something is up.
“I’m fine. Let’s get this over with.” It comes out as a mumble, which you don’t mean for it to, but you’re tired and just want to sleep. You climb the steps, Steve’s hand on your arm, his other on your lower back as if he believes you’ll collapse any minute. You walk through the door to the main room and are met by the waiting eyes of the Avengers.
The Taipan, the prince and the Winter soldier ❄️
Chapter 2
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You reluctantly followed Bucky to where you knew he often stayed. The Avengers Compound. You grimaced as you both entered the private car park. After extensive security procedures that mostly consisted of Bucky saying you were one of his very close ‘lady friends’, you were allowed inside the building. Unfortunately you had no weapons on you as Bucky had made you leave them all in the car knowing you’d never get through security with them. Luckily enough, you were confident that Bucky wasn’t going to hurt you, if he was, he would have done it by now. He guided you both towards an elevator before pressing the button to the seventh floor.
“You hungry?” He asked, breaking the silence.
“You tell me that Strucker, who I thought we had dealt with is alive and you’re asking me if I’m hungry.” You scoffed. “Unbelievable.”
“If you’re not hungry all you had to do was say, geez.” He replied.
“No James, no I’m not hungry.” You replied as the doors opened revealing what appeared to be some sort of common room. Bucky stepped out and you followed cautiously along with him into the seemingly empty room.
“It’s just Bucky here.” He said, glancing down towards you next to him.
“What’s wrong with James?” You queried “it’s what I’ve always called you.”
“I prefer Bucky.” He stated.
“Fine, Bucky.” You answered with no arguments as you both entered a kitchen.
“Now I know you said you’re not hungry but I am.”
Ignoring him as he opened the fridge, pulling out different ingredients, you glanced around the kitchen, taking everything in. It was honestly huge. It had an island in the middle that had stools coming out of it as well as a huge window on the far wall that overlooked a lovely area of greenery and hills. You continued to look before something on the floor caught your attention.
“So, with a place like this, it’s not uncommon to see various different wildlife animals. You know, because of the location” You assumed, speaking aloud.
“I suppose so.” Bucky answered, making a sandwich.
“So it’s not uncommon to see snakes in the kitchen then?” You smiled, looking down at the snake that was continuing to slither towards you.
“What!” Bucky exclaimed.
“Don’t tell me you’re scared of this little thing.” You cooed, picking the snake up.
“That looks venomous. Put it down!” Bucky instructed, abandoning the butter knife as he stepped away from the counter.
“It’s not venomous.” You spoke absentmindedly, allowing it to wrap around your arm.
“H-how do you know?” He stuttered.
“You forget that I am nicknamed the Taipan. The most dangerous snake in this room is me.” You remarked, still looking at the snake “although you do look a little different don’t you? What’s your name eh?” You asked before the snake disappeared from your hand causing your eyes to widen in alarm.
“So you’re the famous Taipan, I thought you’d be a man.” You heard a voice from over your shoulder. Quickly spinning on your heels you were met with a face you had recognised. The man grinned at you as you glared at him.
“And you’re the man who tried to take over New York, I thought you’d be successful.” You quipped with a grin of your own as his fell. There were a few tense moments of silence between you both as you eyed each other up to see who’d pounce first before the sound of Bucky clearing his throat broke you both from the trance.
“Loki.” He greeted, offering his hand.
“Call me Taipan.” You answered, shaking it.
“That’s your name?” He asked.
Nodding, you smiled at him.
“Come on y/n, eat something.” Bucky called, gesturing to a sandwich he had made you.
“See you around Taipan.” Loki smirked before practically disappearing from his spot.
“What’s he, a magician?” You chuckled, picking up the sandwich from the plate and taking a bite of it.
“He’s Loki.” Bucky answered.
“So what’s the plan, when do we you know, kill Strucker?” You asked, continuing to eat the sandwich.
“It’s not that simple y/n.” He sighed.
“Not that simple? Why not?” You asked, furrowing your brows.
“He’s probably set up a whole network by now. Our job is to find out exactly who it is he’s working with and their plans. Once we’ve done that, we can breakdown everything he’s built.” Bucky explained, eating his own sandwich.
“We already know Struckers motives. What we need to do is find him and then kill him.” You countered.
“No y/n that’s now we’re doing this, we have to play this smart.” Bucky insisted.
“You can waste your time playing this smart but I’d much rather get my hands dirty.” You said, putting the rest of the sandwich on the plate.
“Look y/n we’re doing this my way or we’re not doing it.” Bucky stated.
“Your way? You think I can’t track down Strucker on my own?” You asked, slightly offended.
“If you could you would have known he was alive.”
“I thought he was DEAD!” You shouted.
“Fine, let’s say you do find him which I highly doubt you will, what then? What then huh? You wait for him to say a couple words and then you’re back to being his killing machine?” Bucky taunted.
“That’s not fair.” You spoke quieter, looking down.
“Look, it’s in both our best interests for us to work together. We ground each other okay.” He consoled, tilting your chin upwards “now finish your sandwich.”
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Loki bath bomb
