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buckyreaderrecs · 4 years

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So Far Away: Chapter 4/?

Summary: Bucky Barnes doing what he does best. Saving. Loving. In this particular case, the object of both is you. (Bonus: Bucky Barnes happy, healing, doing really well!) Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3.

Chapter 4: Sometimes the road to recovery is x-rays and pain killers. Sometimes, it's freeeeeesh ava ca doo.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Reader Characters: Bucky Barnes, F.R.I.D.A.Y., Cecilia Reyes Additional tags: mostly canon compliant (Infinity War and Endgame didn’t happen, Stark Tower still exists), possible future smut (who knows, not me), she/her pronouns, more tags/characters to be added with future chapters, hero Bucky Barnes, canon typical violence, warzone/disaster zone setting, Alpine the cat, other Marvel characters mentioned but not central to the plot Warnings: possible triggers for anxiety, PTSD, grief

Note: Hi! I am overwhelmingly grateful to everyone who has read this story, and heard my call for inspiration. Because of you, this chapter exists, and I have a better idea of where to take this story. Thank you all so, so much. Honestly. I hope you love this.

So Far Away Chapter 4/?

Waking up in such a soft and safe environment took a hot minute. The danger was so far away from you and comfort was so close. Slowly though, your eyes opened and you tried to sit up. Sloooow mooootion. But then, pain.

You'd apparently slept off the memory of your injured hand, leaning straight onto it. It hurt so badly that you felt dizzy, then quickly sick to your stomach.

Within seconds of hearing you cry out, Bucky was at your side. "Alright, come on, darl'. Knew we should've gone straight to the doc when we got 'ere," he said, the latter statement directed at himself.

Trying to shuffle to the edge of the huge bed was exhausting. Tears began to stream down your face, running over the flushing red skin. You were embarrassed, somehow feeling it through the intense pain.

"Can you stand?"

You could, albeit shaky and holding your arm close to your chest, terrified something would hit it.

Bucky pressed a hand to your lower back and ushered you gently from the suite.

In the elevator, he called to F.R.I.D.A.Y. "Tell me someone's up in med?"

"Dr Cho is in D.C. but has left Medical to Dr Reyes,"

"Okay. Tell her we're on our way," he asked.

"Already done,"

"Thanks, F.R.I.D.A.Y."

Bucky turned to you, watched you struggle to keep your eyes open. He frowned, then cupped your face in his hands. The vibranium was cool.

"You're gonna be okay, Y/N. I know it hurts, but trust me - I've seen worse."

He wasn't being dismissive, just trying to pull you from the pain for a second or two. It worked; you offered him a weak smile. Bucky leaned in and kissed the tip of your nose. You could smell toothpaste. He must have been in the middle of getting ready for the day when you woke up.

'Medical' was a whole floor. Research happened in the east wing, and the trauma centre existed in the west.

Dr Cecilia Reyes was ready, waiting for your arrival. "Barnes," she greeted. "You found her then,"

"Word travels fast, huh?"

"Oh, you know… Winter Soldier on a mission to find a girl. That kinda thing gets people talking," she replied with a smirk.

Bucky liked Cecilia. She was tough, raised in the Bronx. He liked that despite her power, she opted for a relatively normal life. She was good people.

"Well, welcome," she said to you, leading you to a private room. "I'm Dr Reyes. Heard you've banged up your hand pretty bad?"

"Yeah," you managed to squeak out.

"Scale of one to ten, how bad's the pain?"

Ten. Definitely. "Uh… Eight," you lied.

Cecilia snorted. "So at least a nine then? Don't need to be tough for me," she told you, smiling kindly. She nodded for Bucky to help you up onto the bed in the room.

"I was okay last night," you said to her.

"Probably still in a bit of shock. Had a rough couple of days. Body's smart. Guess it waited to tell you it needed help," she replied.

"Should've brought you here last night," Bucky said.

"Nah, Barnes. Sleep is the great healer. She's here now. Let's see what we've got."

An x-ray, backlit and brutal, showed a broken ring finger, broken thumb, and three breaks to your hand. Cecilia told you that all things considered, you were lucky; the breaks hadn't split skin, muscle, or tendon. She set a cast on your wrist, hand, and thumb, and stabilised your ring finger by splinting it to your pinky.

"If you want, we can just cut it off and you can get one of what he's got," she joked during the process.

"Hey! Too soon," Bucky said, feigning offence.

She rolled her eyes at him dramatically. "What, like 80 years or something?"

Bucky laughed, then smiled over at you. "It's all right, darlin'," he said, noticing your expression. "If I can't joke about it, what's it good for, you know?"

"In her case, it's good for some top tier pain meds. Here - take two as needed. No more than eight a day. With food is better. And for reference, a can of Pringles does not count as a meal,"

"That felt personal," Bucky said, eyes narrowing at Cecilia.

"Your diet is trash," she told him, matter of fact.

"Firstly, once you pop you can't stop. Even I know that. Secondly, how do you know about my diet, doll?"

"Doll me again, Barnes, and I'll-"

"What?" he interrupted. "Force field me to death?"

"Joke all ya want, but it can be done."

Bucky laughed again, fondly shaking his head at her. Cecilia held back a full grin.

"Force field?" you asked, sitting quietly, letting the fentanyl you'd been given before the x-ray seep into your body.

"I'll tell ya later," Bucky said, reaching out to fold stray hair behind your ear.

"Alright, need anything else? You're not-" Cecilia started.

"Nah, nah, I'm good. Thanks, Doc. We''ll get out cha' way."

They hugged like they meant it, and she left the room.

Bucky turned to you. "I'd decorate that thing for ya, but Steve's the artist," he said, nodding at your cast.

"S'okay," you whispered in reply.

"Fentanyl working then?"

Eyes closed, grinning, you nodded slowly. Bucky snorted.

"Good. Guess we'll get some food in you then,"

"Pringles?" you asked hopefully as Bucky held your hips, helping you slide off the bed.

"Whatever you want, darlin'."

People pretended not to watch you and Bucky leave the trauma centre. It's kinda what people did in Stark Tower - pretend not to see and know what they saw and knew.

"He's got a girlfriend" someone whispered.

"No, didn’t he, like, go full hero and save her or something?"

"Think we got more to worry about than who and what Bucky Barnes is doing," Cecilia said loudly to the room. She smiled though. Good for him, she thought to herself.

…

Before you really knew what was happening, Bucky was handing you an iPad.

"Sit. Ubereats us something," he said.

You were on the couch, back in Bucky's suite. Looking around, you felt that awe again - floor to ceiling windows with New York views will do that. There was a light, knitted blanket over you. It seemed out of place in the modern apartment setting.

For a good fifteen minutes since returning from the medical suite, you'd just been sitting there. Bucky had waited until you seemed more… coherent, to ask you to pick food.

"You know Ubereats?" you asked, smiling, proud of yourself.

Bucky snorted. "I know I'm old, but I'm not playing-bingo-with-senior-citizens old."

You laughed and for a second, forgot about everything.

"That being said," he added, "I did live through The Depression, and I do have a super soldier metabolism… So, you know, don't skimp on the food."

You wondered what his dinner of choice normally would be. Order history! It looked like Bucky was working his way through every takeout option in N.Y. Nothing repeated.

"Burrrrrrito?" you asked.

"Yeah, darl'. Whatever you want,"

"I waaaaant… freeeesh ava ca doo,"

"That the drugs talking?"

Mental note to self: show Bucky Barnes memes.

After the order was placed, you put the iPad on the coffee table in front of you. Bucky picked it up, shot you a grin, and disappeared for a while. You did consider following him - he felt like safety. But, you were slowly coming out of the fog of fentanyl and knew tagging along like a lost puppy probably would make you feel awkward more than anything.

Bucky's voice floated through… superhero stuff, you assumed. Busying yourself with finding the remote, then being startled by F.R.I.D.A.Y.'s offer of help ("Can I help you find something to watch?"), you managed to fill the time until Bucky returned without having to really think too much. There was a feeling sitting in the back of your mind and the bottom of your stomach that you wanted to keep ignoring for as long as possible. It seemed… bad. And you weren't ready for bad.

"Alright," Bucky said, coming to stand in front of you. "How we doing?"

You smiled, nodded. His expression shifted. Sceptical.

"Yeah? You sure?"

"Ah-huh," you confirmed.

"I'm just gonna run down and grab the food. Won't be a second."

The door clicked shut behind him, leaving you with only the television to keep you company. You tried to pay attention, focus on the show. But the volume was too loud, even on the lowest setting. It was agitating, stressful even. Switching it off, you were enveloped in silence.

Calm down, you told yourself. And yet, a heartbeat was pounding in your ears. Fuck, fuck, fuck. You could hear your own organs now?!

Suddenly, you found yourself at the window, looking down at the city. How can everyone… You were thinking too fast, spiralling. But how could you think of anything else? How could everyone down there just keep going? D.C. was still burning. People had died.

People.

Your people.

Everything - your head, the room, your world - began to spin.

Where's… Where's… Where the hell was a phone?

"Y/N," F.R.I.D.A.Y.'s voice alarmed you, coming out of nowhere, but not enough to make you jump. "I'm detecting an elevated heart rate. Can I help you with anything?"

"I… ah… You're just a machine," you muttered to yourself mostly. "Wait! No! Where's the phone?! I need a phone… I need to call…"

Call who? Who would you call first? What would you do if…

You didn't hear F.R.I.D.A.Y. tell you where to find a phone, or ask again if you were okay. You didn't hear her tell you Bucky was on his way up. As soon as he walked in, he knew what was happening.

"F.R.I.D.A.Y., tell me next time," he said while putting the takeout on the suite's small round dining table. "Y/N," he called. He stood in your field of vision, but not too close. "Y/N? Can you hear me?"

"I'm… I need a phone," you said, voice frantic, pupils blown. "There's people…"

"We can do that. Phone's right here," Bucky told you, pulling his cell from his pocket and holding it out to you. When you didn't take it, he slid it back in and held a hand out to you instead. "Y/N, take my hand. We're gonna sit down. Don't want you to fall and break any more bones,"

"How many days has it been?" you asked, your words pushed together, the letters overlapping.

"I'm gonna come closer, okay? Coming to you." Bucky moved. When he could see it wasn't making it worse, he held on your good wrist, his other hand on your waist, and walked you to the couch. You followed along, mindlessly compliant. "It's been five days. Not everyone will be on the lists yet, but we'll call, yeah? Or, we can get F.R.I.D.A.Y. to do it for us."

You were sort of nodding, but were still finding it hard to focus. Bucky waited another few moments, watching and assessing, before deciding he needed to intervene further.

He put his left hand on your face, cupping the cool metal to your skin. Gently but firmly, he turned you to face him.

"How many fingers am I holding up?" he asked, raising his right hand.

"What?"

He repeated the question.

"Three," you answered, dismissive and maybe even a little annoyed.

"Good. Now?"

"Five. What are you doing?"

"Now?"

"Two! What are you doing?!"

"Distracting you," Bucky said. "Making your mind work on a task that isn't just panicking,"

"I'm not panicking," you told him.

"Not now, 'cause it worked. You're still not breathing properly though,"

"I'm fine,"

"F.R.I.D.A.Y.?" Bucky called.

She spoke, "Your heart rate is still elevated, Y/N, and-"

"Okay, I get it," you stopped her.

"Just take a couple breaths with me. Don't need 'em to be deep. Just hold them for a couple seconds."

As he called it, you took a breath in, two, three, out, two, three. You managed to do it twice before shaking your head and wriggling in your spot.

"I'm not- I just-" and you were off again, rambling about people, phones, and things you needed to do.

You went to stand, but Bucky grabbed you around the middle, pulling you down. Your back was to him, pressed to his chest, while his arms were wrapped around you. He would have let go if you fought him or cried out. But, you were limp and quiet almost immediately.

As you clung to his arms, he rested his head on your shoulder and made soft hushing sounds. Bucky waited patiently until your breathing regulated. You had closed your eyes and let your entire weight rest on him.

"I know how you feel. You're exhausted. Makes everything feel… bigger. But I promise you, it's gonna be okay," he told you, voice calm. Calming.

"You can't promise that," you replied, voice weak.

"I reckon if anyone can - it's me. Had a lot of life experience. And, got a lot of resources. Superhero perks," he laughed, trying to lighten your mood. "You trust me?" he asked, to which you nodded. "Good. So, trust me. I've got you. And right now, we've got some burritos that need eatin', and you need to tell me what freesh ava ca doo is."

Hearing the words come out of his mouth was entirely ridiculous and you couldn't help but snort. It left a smile on your face.

"There she is! Come on. Up!”

Chapter 5.

Tag list (open): @animegirlgeeky @bubbabarnes @browngirlmagic @lookalivefrosty @aynaraxas @vibraniumwitch @the–sad–hatter @grecianlune @fairislesheets

#mine #Bucky Barnes #Bucky Barnes fanfic #Bucky Barnes fanfiction #Bucky Barnes imagine #Bucky Barnes/Reader #Bucky Barnes / Reader #bucky barnes/you #Bucky Barnes / You #Bucky Barnes / Y/N #Bucky Barnes/Y/N #Marvel fanfiction #So Far Away

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oldsoldierr · 4 years

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The Carnation ~ Part 3

summary: the media always told you that the famous art critic bucky barnes is an arrogant, rude playboy and you agree, but something still draws you to him. is there a deeper reason to why he acts the way he does or is he the class A jackass you first met?

art critic!bucky x artist!reader

word count: about 2.1k

series masterlist ~ part 1~ part 2 ~

“Ms. y/l/n, this is NYU Langone Health, you need to come to the hospital as soon as possible. James Buchanan Barnes has been in an accident.”

You didn’t bother listening to the rest of the voicemail. You were exhausted but adrenaline shot through your veins. You jerked up standing wide awake. You ran out of your apartment with desperation.

Your insults to him could not be the last words you told him, they just couldn’t. Cause though part of you hated him, part of you knew Bucky had become part of your life far more than he knew.

You sprinted down the stairs back down, the way you had just a couple of minutes prior, but with new determination. You jumped over the last couple set steps with a boom you knew would echo through the halls and would leave a couple of complaints but you didn’t care. You didn’t even care to think about why the hospital had called you instead of a family member or even Steve. You threw yourself in your car and just started pulling out. Your car was already on the road when it occurred to you you didn’t know where the hospital was.

“Shit.” You didn’t have your phone with you cause you forgot it on your couch in your haste. Your brain really wasn’t helping you out today.

The rest of the drive was a blur as you got lost in your thoughts. Everything was cloudy in your head. Somehow, muscle memory must’ve kicked in cause you made it to the hospital. You didn’t have time to be confused though, as you run in, the doors slamming open.

You quickly scanned the room looking for the front desk. You must’ve looked like a lunatic. You were breathing hard and your hair was a complete mess from running.

You still managed to reach the front desk asking, “I want to see James Barnes, he--” You gasped for breath. “--he was just in an accident, came in a couple minutes ago.”

The receptionist looked at you with a concerned look on her face but just clicked her keys on the keyboard.

“Miss, could you tell me the patient’s name?”

“James Barnes,” you told her. She typed some more.

“Are you a relative?” she asked annoyingly calm for your stressful day.

“Uh, no, I’m a--” What were you? You tentatively continued, “a friend, I’m a friend.” She looked you over.

“And your name?”

“Y/n y/l/n.” More keyboard clicking.

“Ah, yes. You’re set as one of his emergency contacts.”

What? You thought. The receptionist continued.

“James Barnes is in room 206, go right into that hallway, take two lefts.” You let out a sigh of relief.

“Thank you,” you said breathy.

“Oh, and--” She stopped you before you started speed walking again. “You better make it quick, he’s going to have surgery in a couple of minutes.” You nodded in acknowledgment.

You walked down the hall, two lefts counting the rooms.

“...194, 196, 198, 200, 202, 204, 206-- aha!” You were about to burst in when you realized it probably wasn’t the brightest idea, so you settled for a gentle knock. The reply came immediately.

“Who is it?” It was the same voice you had fought with on the phone a mere hour earlier, but it sounded much more gravely and in pain. You cleared your throat.

“It’s um-- it’s y/n.” The pause between his answer felt like hours even though it couldn’t have been more than a minute. You bit your lip anxiously. You heard him shift in his bed before saying, “Come in,” as if he was too weak to retort with a nasty reply.

You warily pushed the door open. There he was, looking as good as ever, on an off white hospital bed. The only change you noticed in his appearance was windblown hair, and more importantly, some blue, shockingly large shards of glass inserted in his left shoulder, bandaged with some white newly scarlet dyed medical tape. You subconsciously moved closer to him.

“...what happened to you?” you uttered under your breath without meaning to. Your arm reached out to skim his wound. He winced, his face contorting in pain. Realizing what you did you stepped back.

“Oh-- sorry, um--” You didn’t know what to say. Bucky hissed from the pain.

“It’s alright, I can handle it.” his response wasn’t full of venom, just strained. It reminded you of his voice after you had yelled at him in the car and all the guilt from before flooded back into you. You looked down at your feet.

“Hey, uh, I’m really sorry about earlier. I,” You took a shaky breath, “I didn’t mean any of it. I was just riled up. I-I understand if you if can’t forgive me, but I just needed you to know, you’re not any of those things I said.” You don’t know what you were expecting when you said that but you weren’t expecting Bucky to chuckle sadly.

“No, no, you were right. I’m arrogant and selfish. I’ve known for a while but you’re just the one who said it out loud to me first. Guess I just didn’t want to confront the truth.” He tilted his head toward you with a smirk before avoiding eye contact again. “I’m really sorry for being such a jackass to you.”

Did--did he just apologize to me?

“It’s okay,” you replied sheepishly. You gave him a smile.

“To be honest, you aren’t that bad anyway.” He made a faux shocked look.

“Did you just give me a compliment? I am truly baffled,” he teased. You almost slapped him but realized it would probably actually hurt due to his injury.

“Damn it, he’s back,” you said cheekily. Your face faltered a bit though when you looked back at his arm.

“What happened?” you wondered out loud. Bucky twiddled his thumbs nervously at the question.

“It was nothing,” he brushed off.

“A vase on a shelf just fell off onto me. A freak accident.”

“Oh,” you replied, but you were dubious of his answer.

“Where’d it happen?” You pried more. You swear for a moment his eyes widened nervously. He scratched his face.

“It was just in my office,” he skipped over. You sensed an awkward silence coming. Luckily the nurses ushered you out before that happened for Bucky’s surgery. You briefly mumbled good luck and walked back past the waiting room, out the exit, and into the parking lot. You knew it was going to be a long night of waiting and worrying. Despite that, you still couldn’t get a question out of your mind.

Why did Bucky lie about how he got his injury? You pondered as you walked. You shook your head to clear your mind because it wasn’t any of your business...right? You clicked your car keys and unlocked the door.

You switched on the light and felt around your car for a minute. You found what you were looking for with an “Aha!”. It was the drawing of the carnation.

You found some more art supplies and closed the door. You swiftly walked back to the waiting room, scanned the room for a chair with no one near it, and sat yourself down.

The one thing that had always gotten you through your hard times was art, and it was going to get you through this one.

For 8 painful hours, you waited. Your brain drifted to the thought of Bucky dying many times, but every time it did, you just forced yourself to work on the drawing. Even when the piece looked done, you just kept adding. It was the only way you were keeping sane. Multiple times you had almost fallen asleep before jolting awake. It was hell.

But finally, when you felt like you were about to pass out, you felt something tap your shoulder. That surprised you so much you jumped in your seat. It was a doctor.

“Miss-” she looked down at her clipboard. “y/n, I’m Doctor Reed. I have an update on James.” That got your attention. You nodded for her to continue. She cleared her throat.

“I have some good news and some bad news. Do you have a preference on which you’d like to hear first?” You shook your head, your anxiety was growing and you really just wanted to get this over with.

“James is okay. The surgery went very well and he should be free to leave in around two to three weeks, though we’ll keep you posted.” She took a deep breath before resuming. “The unfortunate part is that...we’ve...we’ve had to amputate his arm.”

Your hands moved to cover your mouth as water flooded your eyes.

“We did everything that we could, but his cuts were infected before he arrived. If we chose to keep his arm, best-case scenario, he would’ve had a dead limb.” You couldn’t believe what you were hearing.

“...And worst-case scenario?” you asked knowing you’d regret it. Dr. Reed hesitated.

“He could have died.” She kept talking but you couldn’t listen. It was all a blur.

He’s alive, he’s alive, you reminded yourself. You took an uneven breath.

“Can I see him?” The doctor nodded.

“You can, he may still be a bit woozy from the pain killers.” You muttered a thank you and collected your things, and allowed the doctor to escort you to his room. Your felt half dead but you kept walking. Remembering the path from earlier you found room 206 easily.

Without bothering to knock you pushed the door halfway open. His eyes were glassy and drooped. At the sight of you, he tried to scramble up to a sitting position but failed. He helplessly fell back onto his bed.

That’s when you opened the door completely to see a cavity where his left arm was supposed to be. You held in a gasp. You dropped your art things in a chair and rushed to his side.

“Are you alright?” you asked.

“Mmmm, were you worried?” His voice sounded sloppy and uncontrolled. Like he’d just woken from a year’s nap.

“Yeah, a little,” you replied with endearment, the ends of your mouth twitching upwards. Bucky proceeded to GIGGLE. To say that was amusing would’ve been an understatement. That was until he grabbed you by your shirt and pulled you closer to him.

He whispered loudly, “Can I tell you a secret?” You smiled and answered expecting a stupid, drugged joke.

“Sure Buck.” He somehow pulled you even closer. You could feel his breath. His lips parted.

“It wasn’t a freak accident.” You pulled back, alarmed.

“What?” He shushed you.

“My marketing agent and I have been arguing for a while. Tonight he got super mad at mee,” he said with childlike movements, elongating each syllable. You were frozen in place as you listened.

“Cause the tabloids heard me talking to youuu. They think you’re my girlfriend, but that would ruin my brand as a playboy. Or that’s what he says,” he continued.

“My agent found out and we started to argue. When I wasn’t looking he,” He looked around jerkily.

“You promise not to tell?” He questioned. At this point, you were very freaked out.

“Uh, yeah, of course. What-what’d he do?” He looked at you, obviously not understanding the weight of what he was saying. He opened his mouth to speak.

“My marketing agent broke the vase on me.”

Oh shit.

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing.

“Shouldn’t you tell the police? Like right now?” you said, starting to panic.

“He’ll be long gone by now anyway.” He began to drift off.

“No, wait--” It was no use. He nuzzled into his shoulder and proceeded to fall unconscious again. You were hyperventilating.

What were you supposed to do now?

sorry this chapter took so long! my internet went down for a couple days :( anyways, feedback is always welcome! thanks for reading!

series masterlist ~ part 1~ part 2 ~

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