Disclaimer: Everything belongs to their rightful owner(s).
Note: This is an on-going collection of drabbles and/or one-shots from prompts I've received on Tumblr (under the name of puckering-gustin). Please take note that this has been posted on my Tumblr and on AO3 as well. All one-shots or/and drabbles are not necessarily connected unless stated otherwise. Thank you.
Warning(s): Triggers, Implanted/False Memories, Torture, Murders.
Timeline: Set after Captain America: The Winter Soldier, when (or if) Steve finds Bucky.
Posted on: June 8th 2014
anonymous asked: "You're not really a morning person are you?"
"You're really not a morning person, are you?"
Natasha asked through gritted teeth as she gasped for air, her neck strangled under the weight of his fingertips, later on his palm, while he shifted his wrist and pinned her body in place, her throat caught painfully (;sharply, professionally) in his vice grip, his eyes slanted over the way her jaw clenched, her own eyes reddening.
He lets go of her, gasping, panic setting in.
Steve.
Bucky swallowed a lump in his throat, his whole vision's failing on him, until he shut his eyes and remembered the breathing exercise Dr. Banner had him do whenever he was triggered. One, two. Bucky opened his eyes, took a firm step behind and refocused his gaze, though still a bit hazily, directly on her. She's not a target, he reminded himself. She's Steve's friend.
And he's not the Winter Soldier.
"I―I'm sorry." He croaked out hoarsely through a raw throat, felt the ache of the sore as he swallowed, dropping his gaze at anything but at her. There was just something, he thought. Something he couldn't quite figured out about this young woman right in front of him, not since he set his eyes on her figure three nights ago, when she first came into the Tower and Steve had informed him that she's not the enemy, therefore there will be no reason for him to be afraid of her. Or, in another word, attacked her.
Bucky licked his drying lips, sniffling, and heard as she said: "That's okay. You don't mean it, I'm sure."
"You shouldn't be here," he told her with a gruff. No one should. Not even Steve. Not yet, anyway. Bucky's just not ready for that.
"I'm Natasha," she said instead, her voice soft yet clear.
Natasha, the name echoed in Bucky's head and his stomach twisted. Bucky dared himself to finally lift his chin up, his chest rising and falling back into an increasing speed, his mind reeling badly as his eyes settled back on her ― bright eyes, chapped lips, freshly-bruised throat and long, silky, red hair cascading beautifully down her back, reflecting against the sunlight which was streaming down through the window as the sun began to beam from the outside. And she said, slowly, cautiously, "James, do you remember me?"
Bucky clenched his fist.