writingmyheartsout

[writingmyheartsout]

So, things got real in my personal life and, as much as I wanted to update (I have chapters 2 and 3 in the final edit), I couldn't.

It's getting way too hot around here, English school is almost ending (thank God) but my brain feels empty.

I'm writing short angsty stories to keep me inspired, in the meantime, but I miss writing for Congressman Barnes. I won't make promises but I'm trying, that I can promise.

So get this repost of the first chapter (in case someone didn't read it yet) but known this, and the other stories will be always on going (as I don't give up on anything, let alone Bucky)

Thanks for the likes and the support, <3 you all

Castle of Glass

(Chapter 1)

_______________

Hi, hello <3

So this is my contribution to the Congressman Bucky fic trope. Kinda same, kinda different, as I wanted to focus on his campaign, or rather, all that comes before he is elected.

My train of thought was simple.

How did he get there? Did he have a whole campaign behind him? Who were these people, and how can I write it as a fanfic? Basically, I wanted to imagine this whole scenario.

Also, yes, Nobody's Soldier and Church are still ongoing, just my brain decided to focus on this one now (ADHD at its best)

_______________

As always, this is cross-posted to Ao3 and Wattpad

CW: Anger, anger issues, arguments, fighting, smoking, curse words, Bucky Barnes is a warning himself, enemies to lovers trope, angst with happy ending, female reader, politics, congress run, lots of talking and thinking, no major warning in this one apart from arguments and curse words.

(chapter is 2k long, wanted to keep it short)

_______________

Chapter - 01

It was right in the middle of the election season for Congress that Bucky came up with the idea, or rather, was pressured into running for the position. 

It wasn't exactly a safe scenario for him, as it could either go terribly wrong or, on the contrary, spectacularly right.

He wasn't known to be a very positive person per se, so in the run for the seat he was in dire need of help.

A lot of it. He wouldn't let this go, he had made a promise after all. A promise to himself, first and foremost, a promise to do it right with what he had at hand.

That's where he decided, with the connections he already had, to hire a whole team. It should have been an easy task, right? It was indeed not.

It was actually the worst thing he had ever done in his life, and he had done a lot of things, very bad things.

On top of that, he had a reputation, something that didn't help with what he was trying to achieve.

That's when you came in, a field expert, someone who had already managed multiple campaigns and won quite a few.

You had been assigned to him, he didn't choose you directly, and it was obvious he didn't want you there, barely speaking to you even though he was required to do so. 

It was the worst part of it all, even if his anger issues were doing much better than in the past, he despised you there. Your confidence, the way you ordered him around and telling him what to do, it was triggering to him in a way, bringing back memories he wanted to put behind him. And he hated every second of it.

And yet that's where you were now, on the building floor you had rented to use as headquarters for the duration of the campaign, in his office, while trying to reason with him yet again.

"Mr. Barnes, we need more interns to hand out flyers, then there's another meeting this week, even though you repeatedly stated that you didn't want to attend any" you said, your tone firmer now with a slight authoritative edge to it, as you read out of the list in your hand.

But as you were about to add more, you heard him mumbling under his breath, causing you to glance up at him with an exasperated look.

He was sitting behind his desk, a few books and files around him, clearly annoyed. His fingers massaging his temple as if he would rather be anywhere else but here.

“Can you stop talking for a moment?” he said, his blue eyes fixed on you with a slightly irritated expression.

'‘There's no need for more for this goddam campaign,’ he then stated with a huff, crossing his arms over his chest as he now leaned back in his chair, avoiding your gaze.

At that, you sighed, rolling your eyes in annoyance as you tried not to start another argument. Not right now, at least.

"Trust me, I'd prefer to be anywhere else than here.." you replied, your tone dry as you now straightened your back, your own arms crossing over your chest as you held your clipboard tighter.

"But I can't just stop asking, believe it or not, your approval is needed with every move I make.." you bit back. 

"You told me to help you, and that's what I'm doing, James. It’s your campaign, after all, " You added, calling him by his name. It wasn't the first time, you were the only one allowed to do so, or at least the only one he seemed to accept it from.

When he looked back at you, a slightly intimidating gaze crossed his eyes as you continued your bickering. He was tired, annoyed and slightly in need of nicotine, even if he wasn't allowed to, as you told him it would be bad for his public image and his health. 

It was clear in every small detail, from his slightly furrowed brows to the hint of tension on his entire face, that he was tense, irritated even. 

"Then help me the way I want " he snapped back at you, his tone harsh as he leaned a bit forward.

"I could have gotten any other person on board, there’s plenty out there, “ he added, his tone slightly mocking, “but no, I’ve been told you were the best, that you knew what you were doing,” he added almost sarcastically. But his tone and mannerism were far from being amused as he nervously looked around, then down at the folders on his desk, before his eyes were back on you.

“But all I hear are complaints and useless requests, do your fucking job...” he grumbled as he ran a hand through his hair “...do what I’m paying you for”

"In case you didn't notice, that's exactly what I'm doing since this nightmare of a campaign started" you reacted, both your arms now along your sides, as your voice raised a bit while your hands clenched tight, still holding that damn clipboard.

"Have you ever wondered why you never had to give an interview or why journalists avoided you? No? That's because I took care of it," you added, taking a deep breath to calm yourself down as you closed your eyes for a moment, pinching the bridge of your nose in the process.

You waited a few moments more after that, just to be sure to set your mind straight and not overreact, not this time.

It was an everyday occurrence by now, whenever you had to refer to him, for anything really, you both ended up in a fight.

But especially today, you already had enough as there was still so much to do and you didn’t want to spend another minute being made fun of.

"Alright, alright... never mind…I'll do it myself then.." you then stated, opening your eyes and glancing up at him before exiting his office.

"But start answering your phone, I won't accept another missed call from you"

With that, you closed the door behind you, slamming it hard, walking back to your own office to make some more calls as sponsors waited for no one. 

He didn't move from where he was, his gaze fixed on the door to his office now closed, his jaw slowly relaxing as he slowly let out a breath.

He knew he was being difficult, making your and everyone else's job hell, harder than it needed to be. 

He also knew you were trying your damn best to maintain the campaign afloat while dealing with his stubborn ass. He knew that if it wasn't for you, everything would have collapsed around him sooner rather than later.

But he couldn’t help himself sometimes, he trusted very few people, despite everything, and right now he didn’t trust you.

"Shit..." he muttered, his fingers running through his hair again, tugging at it in his frustration.

He knew that he couldn't just snap back at you as much as he wanted, not after you did so much already. 

The last thing he needed was you walking out on him, he had made that mistake before, you already quit once when he started questioning your work, at the very start of this whole shitshow and he wasn't going to repeat that.

He stayed like that for a few more minutes, until he decided that he needed some fresh air.

Slowly, he got himself to stand up from his chair and exited the room, walking over to where he knew was the way outside.

On the other hand, when you were once safe in your own office, you let out a loud sigh, stopping for a moment against the door before walking over to your desk, not really looking at the chaos that you left on it between documents and half-written statements that you needed to finish..

You were angry, mad, even as this man was probably the most annoying and stubborn you had ever met in your whole career.

To be fair you met a lot of different and weird people, from serial cheaters to straight-up assholes. You've met almost anything that existed on the face of the earth..

In comparison, he was a really good person, and apart from his past, which he was pardoned for, he had an impeccable life.

A lonely one that is, but still, he literally had no dirty secrets that you didn't know of.

And you always knew everything about the people you worked with and for.

Even when you sat down, you kept rethinking about the whole argument while you started busying yourself again, a stack of documents still needing signing, and there was already a list of people you had to call before the day was over.

You sighed at that, looking around for a moment, figuring it out what to do first before starting with the long list of calls.

But then when you looked up, after a minute or so after the first two calls, you noticed him walking down the corridor and out of the building, but you didn't think much of it, as it was a regular occurrence when he was nervous. 

Bucky inhaled deeply, the cool air filling his lungs as he took a look around. 

He wasn't a fan of city life, he couldn't say that New York was his favorite place, or even one that he appreciated. It used to be his home once, but now he felt trapped, to the point he couldn’t breathe sometimes, reminding him of the time he lost in captivity.

Still, it was good to get some air, to try and clear his mind, even if he knew that his thoughts would stay occupied by the same thing that was bothering him.

Bucky leaned against the wall next to the entrance and pulled out a folded cigarette from the pockets of his jacket.

And while he was lost in his own thoughts he lit the cigarette, taking a slow drag as he looked up towards the evening sky.

He had to deal with the campaign - that was something he promised and he was going to do it, but the part he was loathing was you.

You were a constant on and off thing, either he wanted you around or he didn't want to see you anywhere near him. It was honestly frustrating.

Everything really was right now. He couldn’t choose, he couldn’t run away or hide, and he couldn’t fight it. He just had to learn to deal with it, and he didn’t know where to start. 

Bucky took another drag from the cigarette, keeping the smoke in his lungs for a few moments before letting it out, his gaze dropping to the ground as he closed his eyes. 

He was frustrated as hell, and even the cigarette alone couldn't relax him.

He was getting himself worked out over this whole thing, over you, and that made him even more tired. 

He wasn't used to being the one who snapped and couldn't get things done, but here he was, in a damn campaign that he initiated for a promise he made long ago.

Meanwhile, as you were still in your office, you started to feel the heavy weight of the day on your shoulders, your eyes started to hurt the more you looked between the file you were reading and your computer.

You didn't want to go home yet, even if you knew almost too well you had an early rise the next morning, mostly to contact the major news channels.

Then you had a fundraiser to program, and new interns to hire.

This was getting even more complicated than usual, your actual boss not helping you in any way, as he was mostly uninterested in the whole thing and the ex-assassin allegations you had to fight off in order to make it look good in front of the people.

There was a lot in your head, too much to spend another night here.

So you just decided to go home, taking a few documents with you.

_______________

Hello again <3 If you're reading this, thank you.

Kept this one short as i wanted to test it out if people like it or not. so if you like it, feel free to comment or give any advice.

Next chapter will be up soon.

[writingmyheartsout]

Castle of Glass

(Chapter 1)

_______________

Hi, hello <3

So this is my contribution to the Congressman Bucky fic trope. Kinda same, kinda different, as I wanted to focus on his campaign, or rather, all that comes before he is elected.

My train of thought was simple.

How did he get there? Did he have a whole campaign behind him? Who were these people, and how can I write it as a fanfic? Basically, I wanted to imagine this whole scenario.

Also, yes, Nobody's Soldier and Church are still ongoing, just my brain decided to focus on this one now (ADHD at its best)

_______________

As always, this is cross-posted to Ao3 and Wattpad

CW: Anger, anger issues, arguments, fighting, smoking, curse words, Bucky Barnes is a warning himself, enemies to lovers trope, angst with happy ending, female reader, politics, congress run, lots of talking and thinking, no major warning in this one apart from arguments and curse words.

(chapter is 2k long, wanted to keep it short)

_______________

Chapter - 01

It was right in the middle of the election season for Congress that Bucky came up with the idea, or rather, was pressured into running for the position. 

It wasn't exactly a safe scenario for him, as it could either go terribly wrong or, on the contrary, spectacularly right.

He wasn't known to be a very positive person per se, so in the run for the seat he was in dire need of help.

A lot of it. He wouldn't let this go, he had made a promise after all. A promise to himself, first and foremost, a promise to do it right with what he had at hand.

That's where he decided, with the connections he already had, to hire a whole team. It should have been an easy task, right? It was indeed not.

It was actually the worst thing he had ever done in his life, and he had done a lot of things, very bad things.

On top of that, he had a reputation, something that didn't help with what he was trying to achieve.

That's when you came in, a field expert, someone who had already managed multiple campaigns and won quite a few.

You had been assigned to him, he didn't choose you directly, and it was obvious he didn't want you there, barely speaking to you even though he was required to do so. 

It was the worst part of it all, even if his anger issues were doing much better than in the past, he despised you there. Your confidence, the way you ordered him around and telling him what to do, it was triggering to him in a way, bringing back memories he wanted to put behind him. And he hated every second of it.

And yet that's where you were now, on the building floor you had rented to use as headquarters for the duration of the campaign, in his office, while trying to reason with him yet again.

"Mr. Barnes, we need more interns to hand out flyers, then there's another meeting this week, even though you repeatedly stated that you didn't want to attend any" you said, your tone firmer now with a slight authoritative edge to it, as you read out of the list in your hand.

But as you were about to add more, you heard him mumbling under his breath, causing you to glance up at him with an exasperated look.

He was sitting behind his desk, a few books and files around him, clearly annoyed. His fingers massaging his temple as if he would rather be anywhere else but here.

“Can you stop talking for a moment?” he said, his blue eyes fixed on you with a slightly irritated expression.

'‘There's no need for more for this goddam campaign,’ he then stated with a huff, crossing his arms over his chest as he now leaned back in his chair, avoiding your gaze.

At that, you sighed, rolling your eyes in annoyance as you tried not to start another argument. Not right now, at least.

"Trust me, I'd prefer to be anywhere else than here.." you replied, your tone dry as you now straightened your back, your own arms crossing over your chest as you held your clipboard tighter.

"But I can't just stop asking, believe it or not, your approval is needed with every move I make.." you bit back. 

"You told me to help you, and that's what I'm doing, James. It’s your campaign, after all, " You added, calling him by his name. It wasn't the first time, you were the only one allowed to do so, or at least the only one he seemed to accept it from.

When he looked back at you, a slightly intimidating gaze crossed his eyes as you continued your bickering. He was tired, annoyed and slightly in need of nicotine, even if he wasn't allowed to, as you told him it would be bad for his public image and his health. 

It was clear in every small detail, from his slightly furrowed brows to the hint of tension on his entire face, that he was tense, irritated even. 

"Then help me the way I want " he snapped back at you, his tone harsh as he leaned a bit forward.

"I could have gotten any other person on board, there’s plenty out there, “ he added, his tone slightly mocking, “but no, I’ve been told you were the best, that you knew what you were doing,” he added almost sarcastically. But his tone and mannerism were far from being amused as he nervously looked around, then down at the folders on his desk, before his eyes were back on you.

“But all I hear are complaints and useless requests, do your fucking job...” he grumbled as he ran a hand through his hair “...do what I’m paying you for”

"In case you didn't notice, that's exactly what I'm doing since this nightmare of a campaign started" you reacted, both your arms now along your sides, as your voice raised a bit while your hands clenched tight, still holding that damn clipboard.

"Have you ever wondered why you never had to give an interview or why journalists avoided you? No? That's because I took care of it," you added, taking a deep breath to calm yourself down as you closed your eyes for a moment, pinching the bridge of your nose in the process.

You waited a few moments more after that, just to be sure to set your mind straight and not overreact, not this time.

It was an everyday occurrence by now, whenever you had to refer to him, for anything really, you both ended up in a fight.

But especially today, you already had enough as there was still so much to do and you didn’t want to spend another minute being made fun of.

"Alright, alright... never mind…I'll do it myself then.." you then stated, opening your eyes and glancing up at him before exiting his office.

"But start answering your phone, I won't accept another missed call from you"

With that, you closed the door behind you, slamming it hard, walking back to your own office to make some more calls as sponsors waited for no one. 

He didn't move from where he was, his gaze fixed on the door to his office now closed, his jaw slowly relaxing as he slowly let out a breath.

He knew he was being difficult, making your and everyone else's job hell, harder than it needed to be. 

He also knew you were trying your damn best to maintain the campaign afloat while dealing with his stubborn ass. He knew that if it wasn't for you, everything would have collapsed around him sooner rather than later.

But he couldn’t help himself sometimes, he trusted very few people, despite everything, and right now he didn’t trust you.

"Shit..." he muttered, his fingers running through his hair again, tugging at it in his frustration.

He knew that he couldn't just snap back at you as much as he wanted, not after you did so much already. 

The last thing he needed was you walking out on him, he had made that mistake before, you already quit once when he started questioning your work, at the very start of this whole shitshow and he wasn't going to repeat that.

He stayed like that for a few more minutes, until he decided that he needed some fresh air.

Slowly, he got himself to stand up from his chair and exited the room, walking over to where he knew was the way outside.

On the other hand, when you were once safe in your own office, you let out a loud sigh, stopping for a moment against the door before walking over to your desk, not really looking at the chaos that you left on it between documents and half-written statements that you needed to finish..

You were angry, mad, even as this man was probably the most annoying and stubborn you had ever met in your whole career.

To be fair you met a lot of different and weird people, from serial cheaters to straight-up assholes. You've met almost anything that existed on the face of the earth..

In comparison, he was a really good person, and apart from his past, which he was pardoned for, he had an impeccable life.

A lonely one that is, but still, he literally had no dirty secrets that you didn't know of.

And you always knew everything about the people you worked with and for.

Even when you sat down, you kept rethinking about the whole argument while you started busying yourself again, a stack of documents still needing signing, and there was already a list of people you had to call before the day was over.

You sighed at that, looking around for a moment, figuring it out what to do first before starting with the long list of calls.

But then when you looked up, after a minute or so after the first two calls, you noticed him walking down the corridor and out of the building, but you didn't think much of it, as it was a regular occurrence when he was nervous. 

Bucky inhaled deeply, the cool air filling his lungs as he took a look around. 

He wasn't a fan of city life, he couldn't say that New York was his favorite place, or even one that he appreciated. It used to be his home once, but now he felt trapped, to the point he couldn’t breathe sometimes, reminding him of the time he lost in captivity.

Still, it was good to get some air, to try and clear his mind, even if he knew that his thoughts would stay occupied by the same thing that was bothering him.

Bucky leaned against the wall next to the entrance and pulled out a folded cigarette from the pockets of his jacket.

And while he was lost in his own thoughts he lit the cigarette, taking a slow drag as he looked up towards the evening sky.

He had to deal with the campaign - that was something he promised and he was going to do it, but the part he was loathing was you.

You were a constant on and off thing, either he wanted you around or he didn't want to see you anywhere near him. It was honestly frustrating.

Everything really was right now. He couldn’t choose, he couldn’t run away or hide, and he couldn’t fight it. He just had to learn to deal with it, and he didn’t know where to start. 

Bucky took another drag from the cigarette, keeping the smoke in his lungs for a few moments before letting it out, his gaze dropping to the ground as he closed his eyes. 

He was frustrated as hell, and even the cigarette alone couldn't relax him.

He was getting himself worked out over this whole thing, over you, and that made him even more tired. 

He wasn't used to being the one who snapped and couldn't get things done, but here he was, in a damn campaign that he initiated for a promise he made long ago.

Meanwhile, as you were still in your office, you started to feel the heavy weight of the day on your shoulders, your eyes started to hurt the more you looked between the file you were reading and your computer.

You didn't want to go home yet, even if you knew almost too well you had an early rise the next morning, mostly to contact the major news channels.

Then you had a fundraiser to program, and new interns to hire.

This was getting even more complicated than usual, your actual boss not helping you in any way, as he was mostly uninterested in the whole thing and the ex-assassin allegations you had to fight off in order to make it look good in front of the people.

There was a lot in your head, too much to spend another night here.

So you just decided to go home, taking a few documents with you.

_______________

Hello again <3 If you're reading this, thank you.

Kept this one short as i wanted to test it out if people like it or not. so if you like it, feel free to comment or give any advice.

Next chapter will be up soon.

[writingmyheartsout]

How you all guys doing? Yeah i didn't disappear, i just got busy with english classes and finding work again, so it's been a mess.

Meanwhile Thunderbolts came out and, let me tell you, it was life changing (esp. the second post credits, for the ones who saw the movie already) 👀

Did you watch it? How many times? Did you all like it?

But putting this aside, I'm coming back with something, a congressman Bucky fanfic, to be precise and on how his campaign got to be (or how i imagined it)

And before you ask, no I didn't forget about the other two, but i need some peace and quiet for those (And my ADHD need to refocus on the topic 😩)

But i said enough already, here the sneak peek at -Castle of Glass- congressman Bucky fanfic (the first chapter is coming this weekend)

[writingmyheartsout]

As you can see there was a stop with the updates (but Nobody's Soldier as well as the others are still ongoing) because I started english class and, with the edits, it takes me lots of time.

But, on the other hand, I'm working on shorter Congressman Bucky fic as well that i want to post next month, just before Thunderbolts.

So, you all will have a snippet with the new one and, hopefully, the whole thing next month ♥️

Thank you again for your support, likes and reblogs, it is very much appreciated.

[writingmyheartsout]

Thank u for everyone who voted ♥️

So some of the other fics im working on are

• an avenger AU enemies to lovers (with a twist)

• a dating app fic (with beefy Bucky) kinda Avengers AU and very funny.

• Thunderbolts Bucky (if you all read the little snippet)

+ others that aren't named yet.

Of course Nobody's Soldier and Church are still ongoing (they're my main)

I'll make sure to post lil snippet of those while you all waiting for the updates ♥️

And, for 2% who voted for being my beta, you can contact me in dm, I'm always looking for help.

[writingmyheartsout]

Nobody's Soldier - a Bucky Barnes story.

(bonus chapter )

_____________

Another apology is needed I guess, as I made a promise but I didn't kept it, kinda. In my defence, I had to take care of a few things in real life (my dog wasn't feeling well) and online as I manage an edit account on TikTok as well .

But anyway, like I said before, this is a bonus chapter, something I wanted to write that adds some depth to the story (I rewatched the series as well to take some inspiration for this). It's not really necessary to read it, since it's Bucky and Doctor Raynor talking, but it's worthy :)

_____________

This fic is cross-posted on wattpad and Ao3

Nobody's Soldier playlist on Spotify

CW: talking about trauma, PTSD, Bucky being insecure and emotional, trauma, light mention of past trauma, therapy session, denial, just Bucky and his therapist talking, limerence, resolving past issues, acceptance, worthy of love and affection, guilt, winter soldier mentioned.

(chapter is roughly 2k long, so it's a short one)

chapter 1 is here

chapter 2 is here

_____________

Bonus - a therapy session with Doctor Raynor

As each day passed, Bucky grew increasingly frustrated by the lack of response from you. He had been doing better when he was able to talk to you, but now? Now it was bad all over again, worse even.

He even started sleeping on the floor again, just like he used to, instead of the bed. His mind was once again filled with memories and images that he certainly didn’t wish to remember. At least not now.

However, he kept his promise and began to work even harder in therapy, both with Doctor Raynor and in the support group he attended.

He longed to reach out to you, to hear your voice or read your words, but he had promised you that he would wait.

And after long, dreadful months of waiting, he finally had one of his last therapy sessions about what happened.

He sat in the chair across from her, frustration and impatience evident on his face. Doctor Raynor observed him silently for a few moments before finally speaking up.

“You look… irritated, James,” she commented, her tone deadpan as always.

Bucky just scowled at her observation.

“You could say that…” he muttered, his voice low and laced with a hint of annoyance.

The doctor raised an eyebrow at his response.

“Any particular reason for that irritation?” she asked, her tone calm, with a touch of curiosity.

Bucky let out an exasperated sigh at that.

“I just… I haven’t heard from her in over a month..” he admitted, his voice betraying his true feelings.

Doctor Raynor tilted her head slightly, studying his expression.

“Ah, I see…the limerence” she replied, leaning back in her seat and crossing her arms on her chest as she regarded him with a calmness that he found rather frustrating.

Bucky’s scowl deepened as he acknowledged the truth again.

“Yeah… that’s what you called it, right…?” he said, the word still leaving a bitter taste in his mouth.

The doctor nodded, her expression still impassive.

“Yes, as I told you it’s a term used to describe an intense, obsessive attraction to someone that isn’t based on reality” She paused for a moment, studying his expression to gauge his reaction.

Bucky gave another resigned sigh, running a hand through his hair nervously.

“I know, I know, …it’s not real. It’s just, I can’t help it…” he clenched his jaw, silently cursing himself again for his lack of self-control.

“Alright, give me a break, I’m trying ok?” he added almost too quickly. ”... I didn’t have a moment to deal with what happened, y’know? A moment to breathe…”

Doctor Raynor let out a soft hum, tapping her pen against her notebook.

“It’s understandable that you’re experiencing these feelings. It’s normal for someone in your situation to crave contact with people who can understand you…” she paused for a moment, clearly considering her next words.

Bucky leaned forward in his seat, listening intently.

He desperately wanted her to give him some kind of advice, something that could help ease the ache in his chest. It felt like he was missing a part of himself, and it hurt.

Then the doctor continued, her voice gentle yet firm.

“However, it’s important for you to remember that addictions aren’t healthy. It’s no good for you to believe you need something or someone to be okay” she added, as she looked at him, studying his expressions changing as she waited for him to reply.

Bucky knew she was right, but that didn’t make it any easier to accept how he felt.

“I know that...” he muttered through clenched teeth. "I know it’s not good but I… I can’t just turn off these feelings like flipping a damn switch.”

Doctor Raynor nodded, a hint of sympathy in her expression.

“I understand it’s not something you can control easily, but that’s why you’re here.” she paused, allowing her words to sink in. ”...To learn how to handle them in a healthy way. The first step is to understand what’s real and what’s not.”

Bucky exhaled slowly, trying to compose himself after the doctor’s words. 

“I know I’m just obsessed, or at least part of me is, but it feels so real, it feels like it’s the only thing that matters.” He raked his hand through his hair once again, frustration evident in his every movement.

The doctor leaned forward slightly, her voice gentle as she addressed his confession.

“What I’m trying to say is that it’s okay to have these feelings, but it’s not ok to act on them in a way that could hurt yourself or others.” 

Bucky gritted his teeth, both his hands clenched into fists in his lap.

He understood she was right, at least rationally, but the knowledge alone did nothing to soothe the emotional turmoil within him.

“I know, I promised not to act on those… until…” he whispered, looking down for a moment.”…until I get better.”

Doctor Raynor observed him in silence, noticing the effort he was making to keep his emotions in check.

“That’s good…” she said quietly. ”...but it’s also important to remember you’re not alone in this. Others have faced what you’re going through and have overcome it.”

Bucky let out a bitter scoff, disbelief evident on his face as he looked up again.

“And how exactly am I supposed to do that? Just stop thinking and magically get over her?” he leaned back in his seat then, crossing his arms over his chest in a defensive manner.

The doctor smiled patiently at his reaction, undeterred by his defensive attitude.

“No, it’s not that simple, It’s a process that takes time and effort, and you’re only halfway there.” She said, pausing for just a moment ”…but to get to the root of the problem, have you asked yourself why you feel this strongly about this person?” she asked.

Bucky’s expression darkened at her question, his jaw clenching again.

“I… I don’t know…I mean, maybe...” he grumbled, avoiding her gaze once again. "She’s just not afraid of me, she doesn’t see me as some kind of monster. She makes me feel like I matter...”

At that, the doctor nodded, a hint of a smile appearing on her lips..

“So in a way, this person gives you a sense of normalcy? Something you lack in other aspects of your life,” she stated, more as a clarification than a question.”...and because of that, you can’t stop thinking about her?“

Bucky nodded, his voice low and rough as he spoke again.

“Yeah… yeah I think so. She doesn’t see me like everyone else does. And when I think about her… it feels like I can breathe again” he let out a humourless chuckle at his own words, his expression a bitter mix of frustration and longing.

“I know it’s stupid but I… it’s like a drug I can’t quit.”

The smile on the doctor’s face was now gentler, her eyes filled with both sympathy and understanding.

“It’s not stupid, James. Your feelings are valid, however, it doesn’t have to consume your entire life.” she paused, leaning back in her seat again and observing him thoughtfully before speaking again. ”...but allow me to ask you something, will you?”

Bucky let out a sigh at that, visibly tensing once again.

“Sure” he muttered, his voice sounding a bit more defensive. He was listening, but he couldn’t help the overwhelming need he felt deep in his chest.

Doctor Raynor nodded in response.

“Have you ever thought about why she doesn’t see you the same way everyone else does? Why she sees the real you and not the monster, as you said?” she asked, allowing him to fully understand her question. ”...What do you think the answer to that is?”

“I… I don’t know,” he answered after a moment, frustration lacing his voice. ”...maybe she’s just that different?” he paused, his expression darkening as a thought crossed his mind.

“Or maybe she’s just a goddamn stubborn idiot...” he grumbled, mostly to himself.

The doctor only smiled slightly at his muttered insult.

“Maybe she’s all of those things,” she replied calmly. ”...but what if there’s something else?”

She leaned forward, her eyes fixed on his.

“What if you’re the one seeing yourself as a monster, and not her? What if you’re the one putting a label on yourself first, and she’s just seeing through it?”

Bucky’s expression darkened at her words, his jaw clenching again.

“I am the Winter Soldier” he stated firmly, his voice laced with anger. ”...that’s who I was for decades. I killed people, I destroyed families, I ruined lives. How can someone see me as anything else?”

At that, Doctor Raynor sighed gently, her eyes never leaving his.

“That’s who you were, not who you are, we discussed that long ago...” she pointed out quietly.”...you’re not that person anymore, you’re James Buchanan Barnes..”

She paused, letting her words sink in before continuing.

“But you’re holding onto that part, letting it define you. Maybe she sees beyond that, beyond the label. Maybe she sees a person who’s trying to change, maybe she sees the real you.”

“I want to believe that..” he muttered, his voice low and filled with something between doubt and hope. ”...but how can I? How can I believe I'm worthy of that kind of… acceptance?”

Doctor Raynor smiled at that question, her expression conveying both understanding and empathy.

“It’s never about worthiness, James,” she responded gently but firmly. ”...you’re worthy just as you are. You don’t have to make up for your past deeds or actions”

She looked at him squarely in the eyes as she said that.

“The real question is, are you ready to accept that? To let her see the real you? The person behind the mask and the guilt?”

Bucky felt a lump rise in his throat as he listened to her words, his heart clenching in his chest.

“I want to..” he mumbled, his voice betraying his uncertainty.”...but if I screw up? What if I hurt her?”

Doctor Raynor nodded in understanding, her expression still patient and kind.

“That’s actually a good thing..” she admitted gently. ”... that means you care, that you’re willing to take a risk for this person.”

As Bucky almost scoffed, she continued.

“You’re not the same as you were before, you’ve grown, you’ve changed. You know yourself better now. That’s what you need to show her.”

He closed his eyes and let out a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding.

“I don’t even know if she wants to see me or hear from me..” he said, his voice tinged with pain at the memory. ”...last time, well… I don’t think I left her with a good impression.”

He let out another humourless chuckle as he opened his eyes, his expression hardening.

“She probably thinks I’m a lunatic.”

The doctor chuckled gently, fully expecting a self-deprecating comment from him.

“I highly doubt that..” she reassured him, a hint of amusement in her tone. ”…and if she does, then she’s not the right person for you.”

She paused before adding,

“But you won’t know that until you talk to her.”

Bucky exhaled deeply, rubbing his hands over his face in frustration.

“I know, you’re right..” he said, his voice still bitter. ”...but it’s not that simple, I promised I’d wait…and..”

At that point, Dr. Raynor interrupted him, her gaze firm.

“You’re a man of honour, James, I respect that…but..” she stated, her voice still understanding. ”...sometimes you have to think of yourself too. Holding onto this promise while it’s eats you up inside isn’t healthy either.”

She paused for a moment before continuing.

“Maybe it’s time to have an open and honest conversation with her about how you’re feeling.”

At that suggestion, Bucky let out a bitter scoff, shaking his head in disbelief.

“You don’t have to keep living in the shadows. You deserve a chance at happiness, and if she’s the one who can give you that, then why not try?” the doctor added when she saw his reaction.

He exhaled shakily, closing his eyes for a moment, before looking up at the doctor again.

“What if I can’t be the person she deserves? Why the hell would she want a broken shell of a man like me?”

Doctor Raynor’s expression softened at that, her voice gentle now.

“Since when do people choose who to love based on logic?” she asked, a bemused smile on her face. ”...sometimes people fall for someone despite their flaws, just because they see something beyond them.”

Her expression turned serious once more.

“And you’re far from a broken shell of a man. You’ve been through hell and back. You’re a survivor, a fighter.”  

Her words, along with the explanations she was giving him, echoed in his mind the more she talked.

Should he really try to call you again? Text you first, maybe? He didn’t know.

What if you didn’t even remember him?

He guessed he only had to try.

_____________

[writingmyheartsout]

Nobody's Soldier - a Bucky Barnes story.

(chapter 2)

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first of all i have to apologize for not updating all these past months, me head wasn't in the right headspace to do that as intrusive thoughts kept telling me this was bad.

second, i literally rewrote the whole chapter, because i wasn't feeling it anymore as I used to be, it's still very much angsty but I had the feeling I was going a lil too much OOC (but you'll tell me that if it still are)

third and last, imposter syndrome at its best...

i'm truly sorry for made you wait this long

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This fic is also on wattpad and soon on Ao3

Nobody's Soldier playlist on Spotify

CW: talking about trauma, PTSD, nightmares, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning himself), trauma, unexpected feelings, obsession, anxiety, denial, mention of manipulation, slight mention of sa, crying, desperation, unhealthy attachment, limerence, fighting over unrequited feelings, reader has female pronous.

(chapter is 8k words more or less)

chapter 1 is here

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Ch. 2 - Popular monster

Bucky kept checking on his phone, expecting a text from you, an update, anything that would let him know you were ok. But the phone remained silent.

It took you a while to gather the will to leave your bed and eat something, but as soon as you stepped out of the bedroom and looked around the living room, you nearly cried again.

The tv sat there, broken and half torn apart, as a reminder that what happened was all too real.

Your first instinct was to go back to bed and cry until you passed out, but your brain thought otherwise as your body moved on its own. You began picking up random items all over the room and throwing them into large black garbage bags, tv included.

This behaviour wasn’t new or unexpected; you often reacted this way when you were nearing your breaking point, and right now, you were very close to it.

After spending part of the day and night back and forth from your apartment to the dumpster, you finally began to feel exhausted again, your mind finally empty.

But the moment your head hit the pillow, the screen of your phone lit up with a notification. 

It was Bucky

Bucky cursed at himself with every word he knew as thoughts slowly began to swirl inside his mind. The clock continued ticking, and the phone lay untouched on the table in front of him.

Should he message you? Would you even want him to? When exactly had he started to care? He pondered these questions as he picked it up once again, debating whether to send you something or not.

But before he could process it all, his fingers acted on their own, opening the chat and typing something, much to his dismay. 

-From Bucky: Hey... are you okay?

You probably stared at the preview of his text longer than you'd like to admit, resisting the urge to open it while still grappling with disbelief that he had actually done such a thing.

On the other hand, you didn't want to give him the wrong message, especially since you suspected he had feelings for you.

Yet, the growing sense of relief settling in the pit of your stomach was unmistakable, and you realized something so simple yet so terrifying.

You cared about him. A lot actually.

Bucky's heart raced in his chest as he stared at the chat, waiting for your response. He felt a wild range of emotions, going from a sense of guilt to utter shame.

Shame for not being able to control his growing feelings or for pushing you to the brink of an episode. Still, he couldn't shake the fact that deep down, he knew you were right. That he shouldn't feel this way...and yet, he did.

But all he needed at that moment was to know you were okay.

However, you didn't answer him. Sure, you were about to, more out of habit than anything else, but you were still very much in shock. The thought that the situation was utterly crazy wouldn’t leave your mind.

Nonetheless, you had to stop this, whatever this was, from spiralling into something you couldn't control.

You didn't sleep much after that. By the time you crawled back into bed, it was already early morning, so you decided to resume reading.

Maybe this would help to distract you for a while, you thought. But as soon as you went to pick up a book, memories flooded your mind.

You remembered that time when Bucky called you after a nightmare and how you helped him calm down by reading him your favourite story.

This whole situation felt like torture, and the strangest part was that you couldn't stop thinking about how, with just a simple hug, he had made you feel better than you had in years.

On the other hand, Bucky felt a sense of despair welling up in his chest when no answer came, as anxiety gnawed at him.

You were the one suffering the consequences, and he was the only one to blame. A frustrated huff escaped his lips as he ran his metal hand through his hair, then collapsed onto the couch with a loud groan.

Thoughts flooded his mind, too many to be healthy. In an act of desperation, he unlocked his phone again, texting you... again.

-From Bucky: Please... say something.

You eventually fell asleep, your reading glasses on and the book resting on your chest. When you woke up later that day, your phone screen was lit with yet another text.

...say something... the message read, simple as that, making you feel guilty for not responding earlier. You knew you didn't have to reply, but you couldn’t help but think that maybe you were exaggerating the whole situation. Perhaps it was just a slip-up and nothing more.

But another part of you, the rational side, kept reminding you that this was how everything had started.

The manipulation, the controlling habits, the abuse. It all started with someone developing feelings right when you were at your weakest.

You couldn't do this anymore, not when you had worked so hard to get to where you were now.

You chose not to answer again, confident that somehow he would get over it.

Bucky's mind raced as he stared at his phone, willing a reply to appear on the screen.

All he wanted, was some sort of sign, anything that let him know you were okay. That you weren't as mad at him, at least not completely. That you still felt comfortable enough to talk with him.

But when hours passed and you hadn't answered, his heart sank as more thoughts started to creep in.

The realization that he had lost you overwhelmed him, leaving him feeling numb.

His eyes started to prick with tears as he cursed himself for letting his emotions get the best of him. He couldn't wallow in despair, not over you, not over someone he barely knew.

But someone who seemed to understand him.

No, he couldn’t go there. He had to distract himself and focus on something else.

So, with a deep breath, he stood up and turned on the tv, trying to fill the silence of his apartment, which had become too loud for him in that moment

After that incident, nearly three weeks passed. You returned to your usual safe routine, but it felt like something was wrong, like something was clearly missing.

Then one morning, just after breakfast, your phone rang and Dr. Raynor's number appeared on the screen.

It was strange, she had never called you before. When you answered and she asked where Bucky was, you felt confused.

It turned out he had stopped showing up for his therapy sessions without saying a word. She had tried to reach out to him, but he didn't pick up.

He was alive, that much she knew, yet you could clearly hear the concern in her voice.

After you explained what had happened between the two of you, how he had come over and the incident that followed, she added something that left you stunned and altered the perception you had of him up to that point.

His whole history, the abuse, the manipulation, who he was and the... arm.

“The arm?” you curiously asked, not quite getting what she meant.

“He has a prosthetic arm, a vibranium one...” the doctor began to explain, her tone careful “...although it's not the same as the one he had, it's a harsh reminder of what happened to him and what he did.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t mention this sooner, but it’s already complicated as it is,” she added.

At her words, the pieces started to fall into place. His behaviour, the way he addressed you, how he looked around the apartment as soon as he walked in and the… gloves he hadn’t taken off that day.

Another hour passed as Dr. Raynor continued to explain that Bucky still saw himself as some kind of monster, an experiment and how losing himself for so long had inevitably changed him. It only made sense that once the call was over, you texted him without thinking twice.

You were worried and maybe a little furious.

-to Bucky: your doctor called me. Why did you stop therapy? You know you have to go.

Then you quickly added a second one.

-to Bucky: she also gave me the whole story, your story I mean.

Bucky was laying on his bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to get himself to relax enough to sleep. He had been feeling exceptionally crappy, for lack of a better word, having spent the whole night awake when his phone went off.

His mind was in a constant battle, and all he wanted was some peace and quiet. So when he lazily picked up his phone to check and saw your name, the first thing he felt was relief.  

However, as he eagerly sat up, he almost dropped the phone when he read your texts, his heart nearly stopping.

The doctor told you everything... Those words echoed in his head as his thoughts spiralled out of control.

He had been lying to you for the most part. He hadn't meant to keep things from you, but deep down, he knew you would see him differently from now on. You would look at him with pity, unable to see him as a person anymore, but rather as... a monster.

He desperately wanted to text you back, but he felt stuck, unsure of what to say or do.

So he just lay on his bed for the next half hour, his phone still clutched in his fingers as he tried to come up with something that wouldn’t push you away again.

All he needed was to see you, but he was terrified of how you would react now that you knew about his secret.

Seconds turned into minutes, and minutes stretched into hours as anxiety began to eat him alive, until he finally pressed send.

-from Bucky:..It’s complicated... can we talk tomorrow? I’ll come over.

You didn't expect a fast reply, hell you didn’t expect a reply at all.

So when he texted back after hours of leaving you on read, the content of his message startled you.

 ...I’ll come over... The words ran through your mind, almost triggering your panic as you tried to come up with a polite reply. 

You knew you had to start somewhere, but you felt torn.

You were caught between wanting to give him a chance to explain and the absolute fear that something worse might happen if you saw him again.

-to Bucky: we'll see about that..but you can call me, we can still talk…if you want.

You suggested instead, thinking it would be better for both of you, at least for now.

Bucky stared at your words for a long minute, a small smile grazed his lips while his heart did a weird flip in his chest.

You hadn’t said a definitive no to his request, you were still willing to talk to him. But those words, that we'll see about that lingered in his mind, giving him a glimmer of hope while leaving a bitter taste on his tongue.

As he fought the growing urge to call you right then and there, he decided to send a message first.

-from Bucky: I’ll call you in ten, alright?

He sent the text and hastily placed his phone on the bedside table, letting out a shaky breath.

If you agreed, there was a good chance he would get to hear your voice, something he hadn’t realized how he missed so much until now.

For a long moment, after his last reply, you stared at the short message almost as if it were some kind of riddle waiting to be solved. A smile crept onto your face at his eagerness without you even noticing it.

What the fuck were you doing? Why were you smiling? You chided yourself, shaking your head in confusion as you tried to suppress the knot forming in your stomach.

With ten more minutes until the phone call, you thought distracting yourself would be a good idea, more to calm your nerves than anything else.

Instead, Bucky's call came a few minutes early, and you didn’t pick up, your phone lay on the bed while you were in the next room.

Bucky had to resist the urge to call you again immediately after he sent the text.

His mind wouldn’t quiet down, racing with thoughts about a million things. About hearing your voice again, the possibility that maybe you weren't as mad at him as he thought, and how nervous he suddenly felt.

And the ten minutes felt like an eternity. 

He tried to keep himself busy and away from the phone, but as soon as the ten minutes were up, he found himself with his phone in hand, calling you... only to be sent to voicemail.

He was not panicking, absolutely not.

His thoughts immediately spiralled into worst-case scenarios. maybe you had changed your mind or maybe calling you was indeed a mistake.

But he tried to push those feelings aside, convincing himself that you were probably just busy.

And while those thoughts filled his mind, he found himself in the middle of his fourth time re-dialling your number. The ringing sound the only thing echoing in the room.

On the other hand, you had lost track of time while focusing on cleaning the apartment, a standard behaviour when you were unable to concentrate and something clearly upset you.

When you finally checked your phone, you nearly dropped it upon seeing five missed calls.

"Damn it Bucky, you wasted no time," you mumbled with a sigh.

That alone should have served as a warning sign, but you ignored it completely. Thinking nothing of it, you called him as you sat down on your bed, waiting for him to pick up.

Bucky was startled when his phone suddenly rang. His eyes fixed on the screen as your name appeared, causing his heart to leap into his throat and almost miss the call.

When he finally answered, a shuddering breath escaped his lips before he said anything.

"Hey," he said quietly, a nervous smile tugging at his lips while anxiety fluttered in the pit of his stomach, waiting for an answer… craving it even.

His soft exhale, the hushed hello and his gentle tone caught you off guard, making your cheeks blush slightly.

It had been long since you heard his voice you thought, still reluctant to admit you missed him…in a way. 

"Eager much..?" you joked, attempting to break the awkward silence between you and hide your distress.

"How are you?.." you added then, genuinely asking. It had been weeks since his last therapy session after all, and even though you both had a setback, you wanted to check on him, making sure he was okay.

Bucky chuckled lightly at your words, the small smile on his face widening slightly.

"Sorry for the multiple calls. You didn't answer so I was..." panicking the hell out. He almost confessed, then he cleared his throat and continued, not particularly keen on discussing how worried he had been up to that moment.

"M'fine, mostly. How have you been?"  he asked instead, quickly dismissing your question, trying to stay calm and hoping you wouldn't notice how strained his voice really was.

"You don't have to justify your worry, y'know?" you said honestly, understanding where his words were headed. Then he lied, probably out of habit.

"And…I know you're not, if you were, why did your doctor call me this morning?." you stated, your tone soft yet firm, not wanting him to feel at fault. 

Meanwhile, if you had to be completely honest, he didn't seem that dangerous. Maybe a little eager, but not a total red flag.

Bucky's breath hitched the moment you called him out, and he cursed himself for it.

Of course you’d noticed, he should have expected you to be more observant than most people.

"Right.." he said, running a hand through his hair, letting out a tired sigh as he did so.

"The good doctor called you, huh?” he asked ironically, unable to hold back a bitter remark. 

"C'mon she's not that bad" you playfully replied, still sitting on the bed as a light huff left your lips.

“She’s just worried…” you added, your tone gentle yet firm “...and to be honest, I am too”

Bucky let out a small chuckle as you teased him about his doctor, rolling his eyes even though you couldn't see him. But then you said more, catching him off guard.

Were you worried? Did that mean you probably cared? Right? 

He immediately shook that thought away, it wasn’t the right time, not now, though those words kept lingering in his head.

“You? Worried? About me?..” he asked, genuinely baffled by your comment as a slight frown crossed his face.

"Yeah, Bucky...y'know like a normal human being would.." you bit back, not really annoyed, at least not that much, as it wasn't entirely his fault...or so you thought.

"There is so much going on lately, like being affected by someone trying to help you?” you stated honestly, not wanting to scold him but rather hoping to settle things.

“Maybe we can talk about that? " 

From honest discussions to fights, you had learned not to shy away from confrontation anymore. It was something you picked up in therapy. Now, when a problem presented itself, you just went straight to the point, only to find out that most people couldn't handle a simple conversation.

Bucky's heart picked up once again when you hinted at his behaviour, and he honestly had no idea how to deal with it.

You really didn't hold back, did you, sweetheart? he thought, nervously running his metal fingers through his hair as he tried to come up with a decent answer.

Finally, he let out a weary exhale before speaking again.

"It's not that simple. But yeah, we can talk about it..." he said quietly, as the weight of shame settled back in.

After his answer, after sensing his evident reluctance, you couldn't help but feel a little guilty about your words. However, it was no use dwelling on it.

"No? Then talk to me. Believe it or not, I'm not mad at you" you urged him, your voice still gentle.

What you were trying to do was reassure him and help if possible, even if it meant confronting an uncomfortable truth.

“I've been there before, I know how it seems… " you added, showing him that you understood what he was going through. 

You? So you weren’t mad at him. Why? You should have been, it's what he deserved. 

Bucky was speechless for a moment longer as your words sank in. He had made you uncomfortable and pressured you, this was his fault.

His throat felt constricted, and he had to swallow once, then twice, before he could answer.

"Y'mean, someone... had feelings for you? In therapy?" he found himself asking instead, unnerved by the thought of someone becoming obsessed with you, knowing deep down he was doing the same.

You should have seen that coming, still, yet it still took you by surprise.

"It's.. it's one the reasons I'm still dealing with the program, Bucky..." you replied, your tone growing quiet.

You understood that, as your therapy partner or former one, he should have been informed about the situation. Still, it was hard to articulate.

"It was straight-up manipulation, as my doctor put it. This other person, he..well...he… he used me" you tried, but the words wouldn't come out. Staring into nothing, you felt too scared of another episode happening. Taking a deep breath, you steadied yourself as you felt panic building inside you.

"I honestly thought it was real, I thought it was love…” you added, your voice barely above a whisper by the end.

Bucky felt his heart sink the moment you began to explain. Those words were all too familiar, and they hurt him as guilt washed over him again. 

"I'm sorry for what happened to you...."  he only said, his jaw clenching as he spoke, yet his voice sounded almost gentle.

He wanted to say much more; he wanted to express how much he hated himself for nearly doing the same to you. But the words got stuck in his throat, leaving him feeling like a coward.

I'm sorry I did that to you, he thought, as guilt consumed his mind.

"You... you know I would never do anything like that to you, right?" he asked carefully, trying to change the subject while feeling nervous about a possible backlash.

At his words, you let out a light scoff, noticing how tense his voice had suddenly become.

"No shit, Buck..." you joked after a moment “.. I would hope so” you added quietly, shaking your head in disbelief, hoping it was true.

For Christ's sake, you even found him attractive, you thought, as a small smile tugged at your lips. 

"But I'm at fault too, I should have thought better than to hug you like I did, no matter how bad I was feeling..." you stated, genuinely believing it was your fault as well.

"It gives off the wrong idea...most of the time”

After everything that had happened, you blamed yourself? Thinking you caused all this? He thought, staring at the floor as he processed your words in his head, feeling even worse.

Good job, Bucky. Really great job. he chided himself silently.

"You... didn’t know where you were. You had a panic attack..." he said, hating the idea of you taking responsibility for something like that. He knew damn well you weren’t in control of your actions during an episode. He had been there before, more times than he could possibly count.

"I'm the one at fault... not you," he said firmly, remorse coursing through him with every word he spoke.

"Bucky...I.. " you started to say, feeling the need to try and justify yourself once more."... I was just grounding myself " you confessed, falling back onto the bed with a frustrated groan as you ran a hand over your face. 

"Still, I...I got you what? Obsessed? Addicted? Whatever this is..." you added, not really asking any actual questions but rather stating a fact."... surely something went wrong here”

Bucky’s thoughts momentarily halted as you spoke. 

"No!... no, no, no. You didn't do anything." He shot back, his voice laced with disbelief at how much you were taking the brunt of his mistakes.���"..you didn't ask me to feel this way, sweetheart. I did it myself, it’s on me.”

He hesitated, mentally scolding himself for letting that term slip out so easily. Yet, he felt compelled to make sure you understood that none of this was your fault, that you were innocent and he wasn't. You were simply trying to be kind, nothing more

"Do you really think you're responsible?” he honestly asked again.

"Well...yeah?..." you replied, your voice uncertain. That little name didn’t go unnoticed, leaving you taken aback as your cheeks dusted pink instinctively. "...I mean, my first therapy partner thought I led him so..." you added quietly.

And it was the truth. In the very early stages of the program, before Bucky was involved and before you were even paired with anyone, you met a lot of people.

Most of them complete idiots.

"It's one of the reasons why I flinch when someone suddenly touches me when I'm not myself.." you confessed, feeling a wave of shame rise within you. "...that's why I reach out and hold onto whatever I can find most of the time”

Bucky's heart tightened uncomfortably as you referred to the people you had met before him.

Led him on? Seriously? Why was your first partner such a jerk? Did he even have any issues? he thought, listening to your explanation.

Bucky felt horrible. He was already upset about his slight obsession and how he had made you uncomfortable, but now,  hearing you open up about your past and how others had treated you, he felt even worse.

He was no better than all of them.

"Then... why did you hug me?” he asked simply, letting out a deep sigh as his tone grew quieter, almost apologetic.

"Because you were there and felt safe..." you blurted out without much thinking, your gaze fixed on the ceiling.

“ And I... I was weak.." you added, feeling embarrassed to admit the truth as you tried to find a rational explanation for your behaviour.

But then, you remembered how terrified you had been right after when irrational fear took over.

Bucky's heart fluttered at that. Did you feel safe with him? Could he calm you down? You trusted him? The realization took him off guard as his brain processed the information.

He had to take another deep breath to steady his heartbeat while a small smile appeared on his face.

But then he remembered your reaction afterwards and that same smile faded, making him want to scream in frustration.

"I felt safe?..." he asked, more to himself than to you, almost as if he couldn’t believe it. But you were on the other end of the line and heard anyway…

"But you? You flinched away..” he added, trying to make sense out of your words.

"That's how irrational fears work usually.." you said bluntly, letting out a heavy sigh.

"Trusting you as a person? Yes absolutely, I could do that..." you tried to reassure him, hearing silence on the other end.

"But as a man? it's a little more complicated, to put it simply” you explained, trying to make it as clear as possible and leaving no space for misunderstanding.

If that meant you wouldn’t hear from Bucky anymore, so be it.

“I still don't know if you want something out of me..or not" you added quietly. 

But those words stung him more than he would like to admit, though he wasn’t surprised. No, he clearly understood your point; still, it hurt to hear you say that, even if he was the one at fault.

He ran a hand through his hair again and swallowed hard as you continued, feeling as though he was being accused.

You knew him well already, because your words hit the mark as you called him out once again. An irrational anger welled up inside him, and he swallowed hard. 

He didn’t want you to be scared of him, after all, he needed you. You were the only one, after so many years, who finally understood him and made him feel calm.

"Why would you even think I want anything from you?” he said, a slight edge creeping into his voice, his tone turning unexpectedly cold.

The change in tone genuinely frightened you. You hadn’t seen it coming.

"With the way you got so obsessed, so quickly...” you started, trying to keep yourself as calm as possible, relieved there was a phone between you both.

“Or... how you already sound pissed,  even after I’ve tried to reason with you..." you continued, sitting back up at the edge of the bed.

This whole situation started to scare you more than it should. You just wanted to live your life peacefully, nothing more, nothing less.

"I'm sorry Buck but...I don't.." you added, fear and guilt plaguing your mind at this point, wanting nothing more than to put an end to this conversation already. “...I don't think we should speak again, not until you work on these issues by yourself…”

Bucky felt like someone had stabbed him right in his chest with a rusted knife. All the guilt and shame he felt earlier were soon replaced by anger.

You? Wanted to stop talking? Cut all contact? What about him then? What would be of him without your soothing voice? he thought. He couldn’t do that, not now, not ever.

"We're not doing that.” he snapped. The very thought of never hearing your voice again, not talking to you, triggered something deep inside him.  His heart was racing in his chest as he spoke through clenched teeth.

When he spoke again, his tone had grown slightly more threatening, and that's when you reacted. Although calm and collected most of the time, there were times, usually when someone crossed a line or something felt off, that another side of you came out.

"You don’t realize it, do you? Even now? You’re so desperate to be accepted that you can’t see how you're behaving?..." you said, your voice raising a little as your tone sharpened.

"Can’t you see how your little addiction is clouding your mind? It’s really a simple concept to understand..." you continued, frustration edging into your voice.

"Having feelings for someone doesn't mean forcing that obsession on them. And here I thought you were smart, but clearly, I was wrong.”

Bucky was taken aback by your sudden outburst. You spoke with passion and determination, far from the calm and gentle demeanour you usually showed him, and your words stung.

However, they also made a few pieces click into place. You were right, you had been from the very beginning. 

But that realization only infuriated him even more.

"How dare you judge me? You're no better than I am.” he retorted, his voice rising with each word that left his mouth, still reeling from a mix of anger and blame.

"You have irrational fears and trauma just like I do. Don't you dare pretend that I'm the bad guy here."

Deep down, he knew he was taking out his anger on you, even though you didn't deserve it. But it felt like he couldn't stop, his mind tangled in a haze of angry thoughts. Above all, he was terrified of losing you.

You might have laughed when he snapped back, if the situation hadn't been so tense and if you weren't feeling so scared. But that didn't mean you had nothing to say in return. After all, it wasn’t the first time someone had used your situation to hurt you.

"Really? I’m judging you now? " you repeated in disbelief, scoffing slightly as you didn’t quite believe what you just heard.

"I never said I was better than anyone, not even you. I know my problems, but at least I can manage my own feelings.." you added, not even bothering to defend yourself against his accusations.

"So how dare you speak to me like that …”

Your words only turned his anger into desperation, and Bucky stopped making sense. You were taunting him, teasing him, mocking him even and he knew It was only his fault. Unfortunately, even if he understood, that realization did nothing to ease his feelings in that moment.

"You really have no idea how you affect me? How you make me feel?" he spat out, guilt overwhelming him along with hurt.

"Why do you think I became obsessed in the first place, huh?” he added, taking a deep breath and trying to calm his racing mind, his body tense with emotions.

"And now you're telling me you don’t want to speak with me anymore? Just banishing me like that, without a second thought?"

He could attend all the therapy sessions possible, and it wouldn’t change a damn thing. How you made him feel, how you made him laugh, smile, and long for more.

And that was the one truth that terrified him the most.

"You really think I can stay away from you?" he suddenly asked, his voice both distressed and unsteady, almost on the verge of tears.

The pain in his last words made you pause for a moment as remorse began to creep in.

Was he truly hurting that bad? Did he really not do it on purpose?

"Then tell me.." you started, your tone softening as you sought a way out of this pointless fight. 

"If I have no clue as you said, talk to me…… let me understand,” you added, trying once again to reason with him, hoping it would be the last time.

But even now, your first instinct was to distance yourself from him as much as possible. You thought you understood, but you were still very much afraid, unable to shake the feeling that this situation would only worsen.

Bucky felt his jaw clench as you asked him why. He didn’t know how to answer, his mind was working against him, and the right words eluded him.

He knew he was going too far, but it felt impossible to stop. The prospect of rejection and blame weighed heavily on him.

"What about…” he started “...what about the fact that just hearing your voice drives me crazy? That, the more I talk to you, the more I want you? ” he confessed, his voice quiet yet edged with emotions as his heart ached.

“I'm… I’m obsessed with you, happy now?”

He was obsessed, and he couldn’t help it. He couldn’t change the fact that he was feeling something he hadn’t felt in years. And if this was what obsession felt like, then so be it.

"The problem is wanting to control me, Bucky..." you retorted “...the problem is shoving all your sudden feelings onto me”

“The problem is making me feel guilty" you went on, your voice growing serious, sounding angrier than you intended.

At that you stood up, nervously pacing up and down the room, your jaw clenching as you tried to keep the anger down.

"I should be yours no matter what, that’s what you’re saying? Just because you are hooked on my voice?" you bit back, almost as if you were accusing him, stopping in your tracks as a frustrated sigh left your mouth.

Bucky hated the way you described his feelings. But the more you talked the more he realized, for real this time, how he was acting. How he let his desperation, his fears control him as soon as you said you didn’t want to speak with him anymore, that you wanted to stay away.

You were being reasonable, he was the one who started acting crazy.

"I wasn't trying to control your actions, doll. I just..." he only said then, stopping only to better collect his thoughts as the little nickname slipped out his lips without realizing it.

"I need you. You have no idea how calming you are for me, how I find myself craving to hear your voice..." he continued, speaking in a low frustrated tone, his anger now mingled with his inner desperation as he felt his eyes starting to sting.

"You're the first person that understands, how do you expect me to stop needing you?”

"This is not the right way to do it, clearly.." you replied, still slightly pissed at his stubbornness, but noticing how he was starting to calm down. 

"The thing is, emotions are never wrong, you just learn to manage them..." you went on while now pacing back and forth in the living room. 

Still, you felt stressed, on edge even as the whole discussion brought up some unresolved issues that you completely forgot about. You could only hope that it wouldn’t bring up a panic attack as well. 

"When you have feelings for anyone, or supposed to have..." you started, mostly annoyed now "..you don't need them, to the point of feeling sick"

Then you stopped for a moment, sighing heavily and closing your eyes, your fingers went to pinch at the bridge of your nose as you tried to think about what you were about to say.

"Jesus, I can't believe I'm explaining this.." you huffed then, calming down your nerves.

"When you feel something, you want to spend more time with them” you then started explaining, hoping it would break down into his stubbornness. 

”Needing someone is a coping mechanism.." as your voice wavered a little “...you know what a coping mechanism is, right? " 

Bucky clenched his jaw even more when you spoke. He did, in fact, know what a coping mechanism was. 

He also knew that you were absolutely right with what you were saying.

His obsession, was a coping mechanism, an unhealthy one. He had gotten obsessed with you because you were the first person that made him feel something good, so he latched onto it, not wanting to let go. 

He felt a pang of guilt in his chest.

"I know what a coping mechanism is..." he muttered through gritted teeth.

"But I didn’t do it on purpose. I just couldn’t help it. You make me feel calm, you make me forget about everything. You make me want to try again."

Now the hint of anger, the bite he had in his tone had disappeared almost completely, replaced with pure panic.

"How am I supposed to deal with that, huh? You feel so so good to me.”

Hearing the change in Bucky's voice made you stop suddenly as your heart clenched at the fear now evident in his tone. You felt bad with the way you were speaking to him but at the same time you didn't, given the fact that, maybe, you were able to knock some sense into him.  

"That's why I.." you started, voice now more gentle than before "... I told you we should be apart for a while"

It wasn't ideal, not even for you since you were at fault too here. With the way you acted when you hugged him or with how dangerously comfortable you were getting with him.

Feeling so calm and safe with someone you barely know shouldn't be happening. You reminded yourself more than once.

"If I'm the trigger here, you should understand how much of your feelings are real and..." you stopped for a fraction, realization dawning on you as well.."...and how much is just an unhealthy obsession.."

If you were just a means to an end in this absurd scenario, just something to help him cope with, then you don't want to be. You wanted to be seen, for yourself, as a person.

Bucky's heart was beating faster in his chest, your words, your reasoning filled his mind and he found himself agreeing with that. Still, despair and guilt filled his heart as the sole thought of not hearing from you anymore felt so wrong to him.

"You're not a trigger..." he protested, weakly so as his voice wavered slightly.

But you were once more right. What he was feeling towards you wasn't normal, wasn't right. He was obsessed with you because you made him feel calm at a time when he was at his lowest.

"I want you..." he mumbled, his voice lacking the greedy, possessive edge he had before.

"I don't want to lose you…please” he pleaded with you, desperate to make you agree to stay, at least, in touch.

"I'll do anything. I'll work on myself, find a way to deal with this obsession." he insisted, absolutely hating using that word, even if it was the truth.

"Please, don't cut me off. I'll lose my mind if you do.”

You exhaled deeply, moving to sit on the couch and taking the phone with you. He was doing it again, begging you. But again, it was just the addiction talking.

"Then what, Bucky?.." you asked then, after a long moment, exhaling deeply as you closed your eyes..."... every time you need a fix, you call me?.." 

You know you didn't have to be so harsh right now, but you truly wanted him to realize how deep he was in this and how bad it was affecting him.  

"It's the addiction talking here.." you added as another deep sigh left your lips...

"You're not even asking yourself if I feel something for you..." you stated as your stomach churned the more the anxiety grew…

"You only see what I can do for you..."

Guess you weren't that lucky. But with the history you had, that didn’t surprise you much. Maybe it was really your fault. Maybe you really led them on. Maybe they got obsessed because you did something.

You really don’t know, but everytime you tried your best and this time you truly believed he could have been the right therapy partner for you.

That was a low blow, but Bucky knew you were right.

He really hadn’t even thought about the possibility that you might not feel something for him, that he was hurting you by acting like this.

He had been selfish… no, he had been damn greedy. He was using you as his own personal drug, his only way to feel better.

He wanted to protest, to fight back, but he couldn’t.

"That’s not true..." he muttered, his voice even more laced with guilt and desperation now.

He wanted to tell you that he actually cared for you, that it wasn’t just about what you could do for him. He wanted to tell you that he saw you as a person, not just as a way to feel less alone but he couldn’t.

Because he had been treating you like an object, like a goddamn cure for his loneliness, he was using you exactly like others did. 

And the worst thing was that, deep down, he knew what that felt like and that made him feel even more horrible.

"I thought I was doing the right thing..." He protested weakly, still trying to convince you, still trying to bargain his place in your life.

"I'm not..." you started, stopping mid-sentence soon after to recollect your thoughts, trying to find the right words.

But his words, his final candid confession, his regret, all this made your heart ache, probably more than you could have imagined. But, at least, he finally saw the whole picture.

"I'm not blocking you Bucky, that I can do but you need to go back to therapy.." you stated, a slight tremble in your voice betraying how you really felt as you were questioning yourself if it was the right thing to do.

"Go back to your doctor, talk with her about everything but not for me or anyone else..." you added, your voice now gentle.

"Do it for yourself, to feel better..."

Hoping that your final advice would suffice, that your words would be heard once and for all, and that he would finally try to understand why he was acting like this.

Bucky remained silent for a long minute as he listened to you. Deep down, he knew you were right about everything, realizing he had been selfish and obsessive without a valid reason, treating you poorly and being a terrible therapy partner.

And the thought that you might despise him for it hurt his heart the most.

"I will, I promise." He answered finally, taking a deep breath as his voice was still shaky and broken.

"But, what about you?" He dared to ask after another minute of silence, still the idea of letting you go tearing his heart apart.

"What about me, what?.." you chuckled softly, caught off guard by the sudden question.

You were aware he just wanted you to keep talking to him, that he just wanted to have your voice in his ear. Maybe there was a small part of him that cared about you, about what you would do without him around but still.

He was a goddam addict right now, acting desperately like one.

"I'll just keep with mine I guess.." you said honestly, sighing heavily as your voice went soft. The whole so-called fight had drained you, making you even more tired than you already were.

"Still, i don't know what I'll do with the program though, for now at least"

To be fair, you weren't sure what you were going to do next. If you would find another partner or quit the program altogether. But saying it out loud, voicing the inner thoughts inside your head, definitely helped making a decision.

"Uhm listen, Bucky..I...I have to go.." you suddenly said then, trying to find a way to close the call without hurting him further. 

"But as I said, you still have my number, just...if you message me I can't assure you a reply, ok?" you added, reassuring him still even if your brain reminded you how stupid this decision was.

The words struck him harder than any bullet could have. He felt the jolt of panic, wanting desperately to keep you on the phone, feeling his eyes welling up. No, he knew he couldn’t explode with everything he was feeling or he’d lose you forever.

He knew he needed your voice in his ear, needed to hear you talk to him, needed you like air to breathe. 

But his hand was shaking as he held the phone to his ear, struggling to stop himself from begging. He swallowed, realizing he’d been silent while you assured him you wouldn’t block his number even if you won’t text him back. 

That gave him the tiniest reassurance, but the doubt nagged at him almost instantly. Would you stick to your word? What if you didn’t? Panic lapped at his heels again and he clenched his jaw, forcing his words down.

"I understand." He whispered, his voice low and uncertain.

Don't beg, don't beg, don’t beg...Bucky repeated to himself as he felt a familiar sense of obsession creeping back in.

He had to fight it, he had to stop this before it consumed him completely. After all, he had promised to return to his therapist, to try and deal with this issue, to begin feeling better.

After that heartfelt call, he reached out to you the very same night. However, as you mentioned, you chose to ignore it, not wanting to give him a false sense of hope or start another discussion so soon.

A week went by, and then his doctor called you again, asking for your side of the story. At that, you recounted everything that had happened, sharing every detail you could remember of without placing the blame on him, convinced it wasn’t entirely his fault. 

And what she told you helped you understand the situation better. She explained that Bucky had an episode of limerence, a state characterized by an intense infatuation that bordered on obsession most of the time, and that it was dangerous for the current state of his mind.

She also advised you to maintain some distance for the time being, a decision you had already considered, since she wanted to break through the patterns deeply rooted in his mind.

"James' not a bad man, it's just that people had shown him very little kindness for a long time," she added. She suggested that while some of his feelings might be genuine, she wasn’t entirely sure, encouraging you to act according to your feelings when you heard from him again. 

“Just be honest with him, for both your sakes,” she concluded before ending the call with another thoughtful piece of advice.

After that conversation, you felt a sense of relief, to be honest, as much as an unexpected happiness.

Why were you even happy? 

Why were you so relieved that his feelings could be real? 

Did you actually have feelings for him?

Regardless, you followed her advice, until more than two months later when you finally heard from Bucky again.

It had been a long, hard two months for Bucky.

His therapy sessions focused on helping him work through his feelings and analyze his behaviors. He realized he had become obsessed with you, but it took him a while to understand the root of that obsession.

After much reflection, he discovered that his desire for you stemmed from a deep need for connection. Unlike many others, you had seen him not as an asset or a monster, but for who he truly was. This realization helped him make significant progress.

It was tough for him to go without talking to you, as his thoughts continually returned to the conversation you shared and your words.

However, he was working hard to manage his feelings, control himself, and learn to understand the difference between obsession and genuine emotions.

Finally, when his therapist gave him the green light to reach out to you, he didn’t hesitate. With a somewhat clearer mind, he picked up his phone, his hands shaking. After what felt like an eternity, he sent you a message.

-from Bucky: Can I call you?

_____________

If you're here so you read it all, and for that I thank you (let me know what you think about it)

Again, i'm sorry for the wait, i want to promise you all I'll do better next time, and I want to keep it that way, I just hope my brain won't fail me again.

Also, there will be a bonus chapter later next week, it's something I wrote as literally a...bonus...so you're free to read it or not, it doesn't change the story <3

[writingmyheartsout]

Just a quick update, for all the fics I'm working on (some posted, some are still wips)

I wanted to post Nobody's Soldier 2 chapter much earlier, but ..family issues..and other things got in the way. That said, im working on it, hopefully posting it on Christmas/end of the year ♥️

And, as i said before, there will be 2 chapters

Thank u for your patience 😬♥️

[writingmyheartsout]

So the editing and proofreading is taking long, longer now that the new Thunderbolts trailer is out and I got...distracted, very much distracted...

But speaking of Thunderbolts, meanwhile, you all wait I want to give you another spoiler, of another fic I have in the works (one that I started when the first teaser trailer was out).

A Thunderbolts Bucky story, Born with a broken heart. And here's a little sneak peek. (still very much unedited and yeah, this will be an unresolved feelings with a hint of sad )

"Buck..?" you said almost surprised when you saw him in a grocery store, browsing through products almost uninterested.

He looked...different..way different from when you knew him.

And you wondered what happened. 

He was equally surprised when he saw you. He looked up at you, his old friend and smiled. Maybe the first proper smile in years. 

"It's good to see you."

He sounded even older now, more tired, but still the same somehow. But he definitely looked older and...tired. Depressed, almost.

"Same..." you replied cheerfully, moving closer and hugging him sideways almost on instinct. 

But at your touch, he almost flinched, so you just moved back, still looking up at him gently.

Yep still very much tall you thought.

"How are you? I don't think I saw you much around these days..”

He flinched at your touch but caught himself quickly. He wasn't used to this contact anymore. It's been ages since he had a proper, close touch with someone.

"I'm... Alright," he replied slowly, but in a way, you could tell he was lying. He looked at you curiously, scanning you with his eyes. 

"I'm retired now.”

Even after years, you could tell he was lying, but you brushed it off for now, not wanting to make him uncomfortable among other people, in a grocery store

"Isn't that a good thing..?" you asked truthfully, tilting your head to the side in confusion. 

"I mean...you could live a life now, couldn't you?”

He chuckled at your innocence. "It's a good thing, yes," he agreed. "I don't really have to do anything anymore. And I don't really do anything anymore."

He looked up again and began browsing again, more carelessly. He was only doing this for show, anyway.

"Guess I just have more time to think, you know? It's a curse.”

[writingmyheartsout]

A little update...(Nobody's Soldier ch.2)

So, not a woman of my word. I honestly thought the second chapter would have been ready already, but life, imposter syndrome and a little eye infection got in the way.

I'm editing it rn so this weekend will be ready, most likely, still I wanted to give you a little sneak peek.

This chapter is quite the important one to the plot and I love this story with my whole heart (more than the ones I wrote until now maybe)

Hope you like it so far

________________

-From Bucky: Please... say something.

You eventually fell asleep, reading glasses on and book resting on your chest. When you woke up later that day, your phone screen lit up with another text.

...say something... the message read, simple as that, making you feel guilty for not giving him an answer earlier. You knew you didn't have to, but you couldn’t help to think that you were maybe exaggerating the whole situation. Maybe it was just a slip-up and nothing more.

But another part of yourself instead, kept on reminding you that this was how everything started.

The manipulation, the controlling habits, the abuse. It all started with someone developing feelings at your kindness.

You couldn't do this anymore, you couldn't lose yourself anymore.

Even if it was physically painful, you didn’t answer, even this time. You were sure he would cope somehow.

Bucky's mind was racing as he kept staring at his phone, willing for a reply to appear on the screen.

All he wanted, was some sort of sign, anything that let him know you were ok. That you weren't mad at him, not as much, at least. That you still felt comfortable enough to speak with him.

But when hours passed and you hadn't replied yet, his heart sank and bad thoughts started to creep in.

The thought that he had lost you took over and he felt numb.

[writingmyheartsout]

Shameless reblog if you didn’t read the first chapter!

Sorry for the long wait, had a couple or rough weeks. But the second and a bonus chapter are on the way, probably tomorrow or the day after, I just wanted them to be perfect ♥️

Also, thanks everyone for taking time to read this, means a lot to me

Nobody's Soldier - a Bucky Barnes story.

So here we are, finally the first part of this story. The prompt was simple paired in a therapy program and the first that came to my mind was Bucky (since the hyperfixation came back) and yes the title is an Hozier song.

Hope you like it <3 (thanks to the awesome beta @green-binder as well )

This fic is also on Ao3 and Wattpad

Nobody's Soldier playlist

CW: talking about trauma, PTSD, nightmares, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning himself), trauma, trauma bonding, unexpected feelings, slight obsession, anxiety, denial, manipulation, reader has female pronous.

(Not much major warnings in this, next one will be a bit heavier)

____________

Ch. 1 - Paralyzed

"A what now?" Bucky asked his therapist with furrowed brows, visibly in confusion.

"It's a therapy companion program. I think it would be good for you.." Doctor Raynor said bluntly, leaning back in her chair but looking at him with a stern expression. ”…You need to talk to people."

Bucky glares quietly at her then, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. He didn't need this.

"Who… the hell anyway...?" he started but suddenly stopped when he heard another voice coming from the doorway.

"Hello Doctor..." you said, standing in the doorway with a bright smile on your face, arriving early as you always did.

You did this before, this program, you were involved from the very beginning and you had already been paired with four people already. Three of them were living their best lives, with little to no problems, but one was still in the program yet away from you, as he had accidentally developed feelings. Safe to say, that time didn't end well.

You hoped this one would be, at least, nice.

As soon as the doctor invited you in, you moved closer, greeting them politely again as soon as you sat down, but he didn't take your hand in return.

You shrugged a little at that, you knew that people could come off as rude with new people around, especially in places like these, and there was nothing wrong with that.

Right after you greeted him, to no answer, Bucky glanced at you the moment you looked away as you listened to whatever the doctor was saying, looking you up and down once, while having mixed feelings about the whole ordeal.

It wasn’t as if he disliked you immediately, he didn't even know you. But the thought of being paired with someone he'd never met made his blood boil with annoyance before even starting. 

The sole idea of talking to a stranger, of opening up to them… He was uncomfortable enough with his therapist, how bad would it be with you?

On the other hand, you completely missed the look of annoyance he had on his face, looking at you uncertainly while you listened to the doctor.

You had and still have your fair share of traumas, but as some kind of coping mechanism, you hid it fairly well, something your own doctor was still trying to fix. As a result, you were exceptionally good with others, listening to them and even helping them to start believing in themselves. All the things you didn’t have, not from the people you wanted to.

Then Bucky let out a silent sigh, turning to look out the window completely uninterested in the whole situation as he focused on the cars driving past the building instead. 

He didn't have to talk about anything he didn't want to, he thought, scoffing slightly in his mind.

Although, with the therapist watching, he knew he'd have to be civil. He glances back at you before looking back out the window. 

"You don't need to be here," he says bluntly then, keeping his eyes focused outside.

"Excuse me?" both you and the doctor turned to him, and you frowned while the therapist explained to him for the nth time why he needed to do this.

You weren't hurt by his words, per se, it was the reaction everyone had, especially with a program like this one, so you were used to it. You shrugged and looked away while he argued with his doctor.

It’s true, you didn’t need to be there, you were well aware of that. Your gaze focused on your lap, and you started fidgeting nervously with your sleeve, pulling at an invisible thread on your sweater.

"I don't need a damn babysitter…" he scoffed, leaning back in his seat before his eyes darted over to you, looking you up and down as his eyes narrowed in silent disapproval. 

“James, don’t start… I already explained why…” Doctor Raynor repeated, visibly annoyed as the frown on her face deepened.

At that he sighed in annoyance, the idea of this program pissed him off. Being seen as weak and in need of someone to watch over him was enough to drive him up the wall.

He didn't need anyone to take care of him. He was a former trained assassin for God's sake.

At that, you looked back with the most unreadable expression on your face and just gently smiled. Then with one last look at the doctor, you spoke up again.

"I'm well aware and I don't pretend to know anything you're going through..." you said, your tone calm yet firm, standing up right after.

"Look… Bucky? Bucky, right…?" you quickly asked before continuing…”.. we've all been there more or less so I'm not forcing you to do anything, really.” 

But before leaving, you pulled something from your pocket, giving it to him.

"This is my number if you ever need anything or someone to stay silent with…up to you," you added, in a much more gentle tone.

After that you walked away but not before saying goodbye to the doctor with a smile back on your face. 

Bucky didn't like the way you smiled at him. It was like you saw something he couldn’t and he didn't like not knowing things. 

His brows furrowed as he watched you get up. He sat there in slight shock as you spoke. 

Why were you being this damn civil with him? Didn't you want to know more? Demand answers? Knowing who he really was? All that and more pissed him off and yet intrigued him at the same time, a million thoughts starting to run around his head.

His frown deepened as you suddenly handed him a small piece of paper. He stared at it a moment before looking up and seeing you walk away. He had no intention of using that damn thing.

One week later, to the day, your phone rang.

After the little misunderstanding both of you had in the therapist's office, your life kept on going like it always did, waking up, going to work, eating… when you remembered to… having a breakdown or two, and trying to manage your anxiety. Normal stuff, just everyday things.

Not that you expected anyone to actually call you but, as you always did, when your phone rang even in the middle of the night, you answered.

This time when you picked up, it was only one sentence.

"I had a nightmare..." 

Bucky's voice was quiet over the phone. He was sitting on the floor, covered only by a thin blanket, breathing heavily as he tried to compose himself. 

Every nightmare always felt so real, so damn vivid. He could still taste the blood in his mouth. Still feel the ghosts of hands, tearing him apart. 

How long had it been since a nightmare hadn't woken him up screaming? He should be used to this by now.

"What do you need me to do?" was the only thing you said to him after that, voice gentle and quiet, partly from sleep.

And then you waited in silence. For him to just calm down over the phone or start talking, whatever he needed from you or didn't, you would help him, no matter how bad your first impression was.

Bucky stayed silent for a moment longer as he tried to catch his breath, his eyes closed tight as he focused on the sound of your voice.

Calm down. Just. Calm. Down. He kept repeating this in his mind. He didn't want to feel like this. He hated feeling like this. Anxious, terrified. Weak.

"Just..." his voice was quiet, wavering slightly. "Don't hang up.”

"I won't..." you promptly replied, your voice still soft as you sat up on the bed, hearing him trying to control his breath.

It wasn't the first time this happened with a therapy companion, it was honestly quite common, you had been there before. 

So you stayed, silence falling over you both as he calmed down, occasionally with your reassurance that everything was alright, spoken gently.

After that night, you didn’t hear from him until a month later, except for a few texts he sent went he felt like he was slipping out again, but no nightmares, or at least that's what he told you.

The more you talked, the more you felt like he was starting to open up.

The next time he did call you again, he was a complete mess.

Bucky was breathing heavily once again, sweating profusely, his eyes wide and unfocused as he stared at nothing. He knew where he was. He knew the past was just in his head. But God did it feel so real.

"I-I can't... I can't breathe." He muttered, tears of frustration welling up in his eyes as his shoulders began to shake.

"Bucky..." you started quietly as you sat on your couch, listening as he almost choked on his own breath.

But he wasn't listening, his breath was heavy, as if he was about to pass out. You knew too well what it was and how disruptive it could be. Still, it was all in his head.

"James..." you tried again, more assertive but still calm "..what can I do for you?"

Sometimes saying out their full name during a panic attack would shock them out of it, sometimes not. But you had to try, hoping this time it would work.

Bucky froze for a moment as if hearing his name was enough of a shock to freeze him in his tracks. He was breathing fast, almost panting, he was struggling to speak, to process his thoughts. It was minutes until his eyes finally refocused, looking around frantically as he realised where he was.

He was in his apartment. In his bed. Safe.

The realization was enough to make his breath hitch, a choked sob escaping his lips. It took him a couple of moments to respond, his voice sounding shaky and pained.

"I-I-" He tried, but he couldn't bring himself to say it.

"It's fine..." you whispered, heart still clenching at hearing his soft sobs and how he was still struggling to speak. 

You weren't a therapist, you couldn't be that distant with the people you were paired with, so the pang in your stomach was real. 

Was it empathy? Or did you just know what it feels like? Either way, you gave all of yourself to help when needed. 

"I can be on the phone all night if that’s what you need..." you added, a tinge of a smile on your lips. 

You wanted him to know you were there for him.

Bucky closed his eyes tightly as he tried to stop the tears from falling.

He felt humiliated. Weak. For calling you when he should have been able to handle this on his own. It was just a nightmare. 

He was a grown man, he fought in a war, he wasn’t some pathetic child who couldn't handle a nightmare.

But your voice was so damn calm and gentle. Telling him everything would be ok. That you'd stay. It calmed him slightly, but the shame was still there. 

"You… don't have to… stay up for me." He muttered quietly, voice choking up still.

"You're not alone in this..." you replied, reassuring him once more.

These same words were the same your therapist told you the first session you had and they stuck in your head since then, helping and easing the process.

"No one should be alone in this, Bucky..." you added, your tone gentle and light as you stood up and headed to the kitchen.

"It hurts, I can tell you this much, it's not going to be easy… but it will get better" you went on, while you prepared yourself for bed.

You didn't know how long you'll be on the phone so you prepared yourself for a long night.

Bucky listened quietly, to the sound of you moving around on the other end, to your words. 

He didn't understand how you stayed so calm. How even after his rude comment that first time, you still spoke to him so kindly. 

"How… how do you not get angry...?" He asks suddenly, his voice hoarse. "How do you stay so damn calm?”

You laughed quietly at his question, as you pulled a book from your stash on the bedside table.

"Who said I don't?" you replied still amused by his assumption.”…I do get angry, very much so..." you added.

"With time and age, I just learned to let go of many things, it still hurts sometimes, but there's nothing I can do.”

Bucky was a little surprised when you let out a small laugh. It wasn't what he expected from you. He was actually expecting some kind of lecture, something about meditation or some other crap like that. He was so used to the lectures from his therapist and doctors. 

But you were honest. You got angry. You let go of things. 

Then he was silent for a moment, your blunt honesty taking him off guard. 

"Doesn't it get tiring? Being so… calm all the time?” He asked, genuinely curious as he felt himself breathing regularly now, his body slightly relaxing. 

At that you sighed. Still, the smile never left your lips.

"Very much so… but..." you replied after a moment, trying to find the best way to explain this.

"It gets more tiring to be mad all the time..." you said honestly as you now lay on the bed, on one side.

"I still cry, I get panic attacks… and I zone out a lot…" you stated, recalling all the times you still found yourself alone with your breath caught in your throat, legs pulled against your chest.

"Like I said, it gets better, not perfect…”

Bucky was a little startled by your honesty. How bluntly you spoke about your own struggles just to help him out. He knew very well how difficult it was. How frustrating it was to struggle with his past. How much it hurt.

But hearing you talk so casually about your panic attacks and crying was… odd, in a way. 

He was used to hiding his struggles and pretending everything was fine, he thought it was normal. 

Then he let out a huffed sigh. 

"How long does it take, usually?” he asked, deep down already knowing the answer.

"For things to get better?" you asked honestly, a little surprised by that kind of question from him. Of course, it was a rhetorical question, getting better didn’t have a set date, everyone and everything was different when it came to mental health.

"A long time." you then replied, not wanting to sugarcoat anything for him right now.

That's what you did usually, tell them how it was and how you got there. People in the same situation as yourself were mostly tired of unnecessary bits of advice that led to nothing.

"A lot of time and therapy sessions..." you added almost laughing like it was something funny. "... your brain won't be the same though, the trauma is stuck in your head”

Bucky huffed quietly, laying back against his pillows while he listened to you. 

He expected some type of halfhearted reassurance. Some shallow statement about how he'll heal and move past everything. 

But you didn't do that. You kept your statements blunt and straight to the point. You spoke about your own experiences easily. 

You weren't like his therapist. And this was far off a therapy session.

"So… my brain will never go back to normal…" He mutters quietly, not like a question but like a realization.

You lightly chuckled on the other end. 

You expected this kind of reaction, usually that's what happened. You did it too the first time you were told about this. But you eventually accepted it, on most days.

"Your brain is normal, Bucky..." you spoke again, softly this time." ...you still think, talk, laugh and cry… that's normal."

That's what you think about yourself too, when your intrusive thoughts weren’t winning the battle. You were still functional, but living in a world that hadn't been kind to you at all.

"Just with a little spice…” you added playfully. 

Bucky listened quietly, his eyes closed as he tried to keep his breathing even still.

He still didn't understand how you could speak so nonchalantly. 

Just a little spice? He repeated your last sentence in his head, trying to convince himself.

He thought about it for a moment longer. His mind was still messed up but he was still capable of all those things. It was a simple concept but it eased his mind a little, at least for now.

"Are you just gonna keep talking until I fall asleep?" He huffed then, trying to keep his voice distant now that he had recovered.

"If you want me to..." you only replied, maybe a little more sweetly than you intended to.

But you felt responsible somehow, few times had you seen someone so broken yet so stubborn with himself and others that you genuinely wanted to help.

"I could read to you, It doesn't bother me at all..." you suggested, fully expecting him to scoff at that as he was still trying to push you away.

Bucky stayed quiet for a moment. He didn't want to admit but the sound of your voice was soothing somehow.

Normally, he would try to keep himself awake. Stare up at the ceiling until he was so tired, he passed out from exhaustion.

But now, laying in his bed listening to the sound of your voice, he found that he was tired. Not in a tired-from-exhaustion kind of way, but tired in an I-could-fall-asleep kind of way. 

"Fine.” he only answered.

"Alright..." you only said, almost smiling at his reaction. 

You could see all the signs, the reluctance, the way he avoided showing himself truly or how he still bit back. He didn't trust you and it was fine, you were still a stranger.

You ended up reading him a novel, one that told about a knight in shining armour, until he fell asleep.

The next morning you found yourself with your phone next to you, your reading glasses still on and the call ended a long time ago.

Bucky woke up in the morning slightly confused.

Looking around his darkened room, it took him a good minute or two to finally remember last night. He must have passed out during your call as he found his phone still in his hand, a glance at the time telling him it was nearly noon.

Maybe you hung up as soon as you realised he had fallen asleep.

He wondered if the previous night had all been some kind of very weird fever dream. But his phone still showed the call log. It had actually happened.

After waking up rather late you decided to work from home, luckily for you, it was possible with what you did, being between jobs had some benefits after all. 

You felt very sleepy still since you spent most of the night reading until you heard the call ending itself, so your day was slow and rather calm.

While, for once, thinking about yourself, your mind kept replaying what happened last night. How you heard Bucky cry, how his words stuttered and, after he calmed down, the questions that followed.

Then the reticence.

Later that day, right in the afternoon, you shoot him a message anyway.

-to Bucky: you ok? 

You didn't expect a reply, you were well aware of how he still tried to be distant.

And like he said the first time, you weren't his babysitter and he was a full-grown man, so it was up to him if he still wanted help.

On the other end, Bucky nearly dropped his phone when the screen lit up with your message.

He was still very much surprised that you were checking up on him. 

Why?

He stared at the message for a good few minutes, debating on what he should say or not. 

No, he wasn't ok. He was still shaken up from the nightmare he had. He was still frustrated with himself for not handling it alone. 

But he wouldn't exactly tell you any of that so he tried to come up with a reply, but it took him about an hour.

-From Bucky: I'm fine.

When the actual reply arrived, you couldn't hold back a laugh.

He was still so stubborn even after you heard him almost crying that his coldness now felt...different. 

-to Bucky: I don't believe that, but alright :) 

You went up with your usual day after that, busy with some more work while planning your next therapy session that was coming soon.

Bucky huffed quietly after receiving your reply, his eye twitching slightly. He was surprised that you didn't believe him that he was fine. 

But then again, you had heard what happened last night. You had heard him struggling to breathe. You had heard him nearly cry over the phone. 

How stupid he was to think he could convince you he was fine.

He tried to put the phone down, but he found himself picking it up again and staring at the screen. 

You just... Didn’t give up, did you? he thought, asking himself something he couldn’t reply to.

How expected, Bucky didn't reply further and that was fine with you. But deep down, to be completely honest, you started to kind of worry about him, to kind of care...

After a week, when you hadn't heard from him and had yet another session that felt hard, everything came crashing down.

At first, you were your usual happy self, telling your doctor about this therapy companion thing and what happened, minus the details.

But once you got home, you felt it, sneaky as it always was, another panic attack that slowly started to build up.

You spent months without one this strong but with the news in your life and the progress you made with therapy, it was strange that it didn't show up sooner. 

Now flashbacks of past memories and people playing in front of you, still sitting on the bathroom floor with your legs tight against your chest and your phone next to you… on silent.

When Bucky called this time, you didn’t answer.

Bucky had been ignoring the constant feeling of guilt deep in his stomach. You had helped him, saved him from that nightmare and the panic attack that followed, and his way of repaying you for that kindness was acting cold and distant? 

He couldn’t tell if you were worried about him or just nice but you were still trying to help him somehow. 

But he was too stubborn to admit he needed someone right now, to admit he needed you. 

So it was only right that he couldn't reach you when he finally picked up that damn phone.

Sitting in his living room, now staring down at his phone, Bucky tried to call you again and again, but like the other calls he already made, he was sent to voicemail. Not even an answer in text.

Dread started to fill him, his mind immediately going to the worst-case scenario. 

Did something happen? Why aren't you picking up? Did you put your phone on silent? Why?

You pulled through yet again, not without your fair share of tears and so much pain, but you did. Still, your body felt numb and sore, sitting in the same position for hours, your mouth dry and your eyes burning.

You were a complete mess, but your breathing was now finally steady. 

Still, you haven't checked your phone and honestly, it was one of your last thoughts as of now.

You didn't know the time either, as your brain was still scattered and clouded even after the shower you took just to feel something.

So when you finally picked it up, your eyes went wide and you almost cried again.

4 missed calls from Bucky

1 text from Bucky

Guilt and fear started silently spreading inside you all over again. You couldn't do this now, it felt like betrayal but you couldn't.

Bucky sat in his living room, his body stiff and filled with fear. 

He had called you about 4 times now. Each time, he was met with a voice-mail. 

What the hell was going on? 

He was tempted to do something, maybe find out where you lived and go check on you. But he forced himself to calm down, trying to convince himself to not overreact. 

You probably had your phone on silent. You probably didn't hear it. You probably were fine.

When you were about to lay in bed and have some sleep, you received another call and for a moment you were tempted to answer, but you didn’t. Instead, you placed your phone on the bedside table and got under the covers.

But when you were about to drift off, your eyes about to close you picked up your phone again and decided to, at least, read the message.

-from Bucky: what happened?

If you weren't so tired you would have laughed about it, about the worry that seeped from a single message, but even your face felt heavy.

So you just typed a quick answer.

-to Bucky: wasn't feeling myself, I'm sorry...we can chat tomorrow.

And with that, you fell asleep, exhausted and aching with your phone still in your hand.

Bucky read your message over and over again while he lay in his bed. He was still worried but the knot in his stomach started to lessen slightly. He felt like a fool for being so dramatic. 

Of course, you were just having an off day. Off days happened, especially for people like the two of you. He was just overreacting. 

He decided to send you one last text, unable to help himself.

-From Bucky: call me if you need me.

With that, he sat his phone on his bedside table and closed his eyes.

The answer to Bucky's text only arrived at the end of the next day since sleeping past your alarm had made you arrive late for a work appointment.

In other words, your day was a bit hectic.

Then you helped your neighbour on your way back home.

And when finally you were sitting on the couch, in your comfortable clothes, the tv didn't turn on. So you had to call the landlord then.

You were tired, frustrated even and not really in your best behaviour. Still, you owed Bucky an answer.

-to Bucky: did you sleep last night? Saw you were a bit worried. Anyway not my best day but I'm better. Ps: do you happen to know how to fix a tv?

Bucky read over your message, his lips twitching into an involuntary small smile. 

Not your best day. 

He could tell from the way you wrote the message that you were a little bit frustrated with how your day had gone but still tried to stay positive. It was…  cute. 

He quickly typed out a response, ignoring the strange feeling inside his chest as he sent it. 

-From Bucky: I slept alright. And how do you manage to screw up a damn tv?

-to Bucky: how dare you! I was out all day and it was already like this, called the landlord but he said there's nothing he could do :(

You typed out almost too quickly, but then you were distracted, only to finish your text minutes later.

-to Bucky: sorry my neighbour needed something… anyways I’m happy to hear you slept some, at least.

You were so focused on the broken tv, and your neighbour moving out that you didn’t tell him about the episode that happened last night. That made you feel rather guilty, you were paired for that specific reason and while you were all about helping him, you just refused to let others help you when the same thing happened.

Bucky was beginning to pick up on your behaviour, about you only talking about your struggles when you wanted to be helpful but not when you needed it. You had talked him through a panic attack but never said anything about why you were still in therapy.

At that, a feeling of determination welled up inside of him as he read over your message. 

He was going to find out what was going on with you, one way or another. Shocking even himself with that very thought.  e quickly typed out a reply. 

-From Bucky: Your landlord sounds like a douche. Maybe I could take a look at it for you.

His next message made you stop in your tracks as you crossed the room and went to the kitchen.

The other times you were paired up, it was always by calls and texts as the other were too scared to even go out, so this was kind of unexpected. With the way he had acted when you both first met and how he still tried to, this was kind of a shock.

But then, when you didn’t answer right away, another text arrived, pulling a slight smile out of you, now that he was acting worried.

-from Bucky: so? 

-to Bucky: won't hurt, can send u my address, warn me when you do though.

Bucky tried to keep his heart from beating so damn fast. It was a dumb offer, a stupid thought he had, but you had accepted nonetheless. So he wasn’t sure why he felt… nervous? 

He told himself it was because he was worried about you, worried that you might have been struggling like he was. But a small part of him couldn't help but wonder if maybe it was because he…

No!... not going there.

He stopped himself from thinking more about it, quickly replying to you. 

-From Bucky: Yeah, send me the address. I’ll be there in thirty.

I'll be there in thirty. Well that was quick, you told yourself as you read his last message, totally not expecting this sudden change of heart as a strange feeling of happiness started brewing inside you but, at the same time, you were scared.

Not because Bucky was a bad person, you were sure he had too much good in him, but for the fact that someone would actually want to come over.

This was new.

And while you were overthinking this, trying to tidy up your messy apartment as best as you could, minutes passed and suddenly someone had knocked at your door.

Bucky stood in front of your apartment, his hand raised to knock. He was starting to feel a bit dumb.

It was a stupid idea. Why did he offer to come over? Stupid, stupid, stupid!

But his mind was filled with worry, his heart racing as he continued to stand in front of your door like some kind of idiot.

He finally forced himself to knock, even if the knocking came off a bit too loudly because of his nervousness.

As soon as you opened the door your breath hitched a little. He was standing there, wearing just a pair of black jeans, a leather jacket with a dark blue jersey underneath, and…gloves? 

When did he get so tall and… no, not the right time, as you took in the unreadable expression he had on his face.

But then you quickly reminded yourself that the only time you both saw each other was in his doctor's office.

"Hi stranger..." you said, after a few seconds of internal battle within your brain.."...were you worried about me perhaps?" you joked, awkwardly and only to hide your embarrassment.

But as he looked down at you, you realized you were still in his way and stepped aside enough to let him pass.

The first impression he had of you was bad, and the second? Well, maybe now he considered you an idiot. 

Bucky stood stiffly in front of you, almost towering over you as he looked down to meet your gaze. 

Damn, you were tiny. He hadn’t noticed that before, just now realizing just how much smaller you were than him.

As he stepped in, he tried to keep the cold look on his face, but it was hard to keep his eyes from roaming over you, taking in your messy sweatpants and oversized shirt. Cute, he caught himself thinking.

"Maybe a little bit..." he muttered grudgingly, walking inside your apartment.

“Oh…” you said quietly as he walked in, surprised by his answer.

Then you saw him looking around as if he was searching for something, making you even more confused. 

Then it hit you… his doctor told you he was a former military.

"It's just… just an old tv..." you tried, not really knowing why you stuttered at first as you followed him into your living room.

Bucky kept his hands shoved into his pockets as he walked around your living room, eyes roaming over every corner in search of any potential threats. An old habit of his from his time on the front lines. 

When he spotted the television, his eyes narrowed slightly, only shedding off his jacket and remaining with just a long-sleeved shirt on.

A damn old tv, maybe older than him.

"How old is it?" he asked while he kneeled down in front of it, his fingers already picking at the back of the machine.

It took a little to answer his question, still stunned by the fact that he was really in your apartment.

The same guy that couldn't stand you the first time he saw you. 

"Very… I mean..." you replied, then quickly correcting yourself."...I don't know really, bought it used."

You confessed, cheeks slightly flushing as if you were ashamed by that. You didn't have much on your own and therapy was damn expensive, after all.

As he worked, you tried not to bother him much, staying away as much as possible and sitting quietly on the couch. 

Bucky hummed quietly while you spoke, his mind racing with questions.

How old could this tv be? And just how much did it cost you?

But he held his tongue, not wanting to risk upsetting you with his questions. 

As he continued to inspect the old device, still he noticed how he could practically sense you trying to distance yourself from him and not bothering him much. 

So he held back the urge to look at you, trying to focus on the old machine instead. 

Why were you being too damn polite? Why were you so damn far away?

As you tried to focus, still not very much into yourself after a whole day of unexpected setbacks, the bell rang making you jump a little, startling Bucky as well.

But before he could say anything, you went to check, only to realize it was just your neighbour again as soon as you opened the door.

And while you talked, you didn’t notice that her voice was so loud that it could be heard even inside your apartment, as you both were at the door and away from the living room, so much that made Bucky curious about what was happening. 

Bucky paused in his work on the tv as he heard the bell ring, his head turning to look towards you as you walked out of the room. 

He kept working, the sound of your voices filtering faintly into the living room.

He wasn't trying to listen in your conversation but the more you and your neighbour talked, the more Bucky found himself subconsciously trying to make out what was being said.

He started to feel like a creep, listening to your private conversation like this. But he couldn't help it, the curiosity was eating away at him and...

The more he listened, the more he realised that something was off. 

He slowly rose up from his kneeled position and turned to face the entrance as the voices got slightly louder.

When you finally closed the door with a loud sigh and turned to come back to the other room, you almost jumped as you found him there, standing near the entrance, with a deep frown on his face.

"Jesus..." you gasped, a hand on your chest.”...scared the hell out of me."

"You good? ...did something happen?" you then added as he kept looking between you and the front door.

Bucky kept his face stoic, his mind racing as his eyes roamed over you.

He was about to ask you about the neighbour, about your conversation. It was none of his business but… he just couldn’t stop himself. 

"What the hell was that about?" he asked, gesturing toward the door.

It was your turn to frown, as soon as the words left Bucky's mouth you got confused. 

How the hell did he...? you thought, crossing both your arms over your chest.

You were tired, still bothered by the remnants of your previous episode and on the verge of a breakdown. You couldn't handle this now.

"Listen, I'm going to be as polite as I can right now..." you started, your tone calm but with a slight edge.

"That's none of your fucking business." 

And as soon as you said that, not giving him time to reply or do anything, you stormed off and locked yourself in the bathroom, sitting on the floor as soon as you were in.

Bucky was stunned for a moment, completely taken aback by your reaction. He had been rude, pushing a personal question out of the blue. 

He hadn't really meant it, he was just worried about you. But now he realized he had gone too far, overstepping a boundary. 

God damn it, he was a moron.

He felt panic well up inside him as you stormed off into the bathroom and slammed the door behind you, the sound of the lock flicking in place echoing in the apartment.

Bucky stood frozen still, the silence from the other side of the door deafening. 

Was he supposed to wait there? Should he knock? Leave? He didn't know what to do.

He ran his hand through his hair, feeling completely lost.

He couldn’t bring himself to leave you alone, not while you were clearly upset, so after a few moments standing there awkwardly, he gently knocked on the door.

You missed the first knock, too lost in your mind yet again, trying to calm your breathing the way your therapist told you many times.

Everything seemed to shatter into tiny pieces, even the smallest things now becoming bigger problems.

You just couldn't, while you kept repeating, more like murmuring to yourself...

I'm sorry...

can't do this anymore...

please shut up

Your brain felt like it was on fire, hurting you more than you could imagine. 

Bucky's worry grew as he heard your voice quietly talking to yourself through the door.

He felt like an idiot for overstepping, causing you to feel like this. And now you were locked away from him, alone and struggling.

With a knot in his stomach, he once again knocked on the door. He hated asking but…

"Can I come in?..." he called quietly, placing his forehead against the door.

You were on the verge of crying, but for a moment your brain refocused and you heard knocking as well as Bucky's voice.

He was still here? Why?

Deep down you knew this time you couldn't do it alone, that you had to talk this out but it was like your body was trapped on the spot.

When Bucky started to beg, behind the still-closed door, you felt a heavy sense of guilt washing over you, standing up right after but barely balancing on your feet.

Then you unlocked the door before you hunched over the sink, hands gripping the surface while your breath felt ragged.

Bucky was almost surprised you opened up the door, his heart clenching at the sight of you. He had never expected to see you this vulnerable.

He really was an idiot for causing you this much anguish.

He slowly stepped into the bathroom, gently closing the door behind himself.

"Hey..." he started, not really knowing what to say.

He stepped closer behind you, not daring to touch you, his heart aching again as he saw you hunched over the sink.

When you heard the faint footsteps and Bucky's voice so gentle, you raised your head slightly, the first tears were already running down your face and you only wanted to scream, but you swallowed it.

Instead, it happened in a blur, you turned around and hugged him tight, burying your face into his shirt and leaving him stunned. 

You were weak, felt worse than ever and clearly in need of help.

Bucky’s heart stopped as you suddenly turned around and hugged him.

He had barely been able to register what was happening, but now he froze when he felt you against him. 

His arms hovered in the air at first, not knowing what to do, but the sound of muffled sobs coming from you snapped him back into reality as if suddenly his brain and body started moving again. 

So he quickly wrapped his arms around you, pulling you against him as he leaned down and gently rested his chin on the top of your head.

You didn't know how much time had passed, hell you didn’t know what time it was as it felt like everything stopped when panic started gnawing at you again.

Your head was still spinning as your fingers dug tighter into the fabric of Bucky's shirt.

And while your breath was uneven and it seemed like you couldn't hold back the tears, you felt guilt. 

Guilt of putting him into this situation. Guilt of embarrassing him so much.

"Not… not your fault.." you tried, as soon as you felt his hands on your back."...I'm sorry, I was already a mess..." your voice was muffled and broken, your brain still struggling to form a coherent thought on its own.

Bucky felt his heart twist in his chest as he listened to your broken voice. 

He kept his chin on your head, listening to you speak.

"What are you apologizing for?" he asked gently, rubbing his palm up and down your back in an attempt to soothe you.

"I’m at fault here, it's my fault you’re upset," he said quietly, silently scolding himself for being so damn nosy and rude.

"I was..." you croaked out then.."I had… an episode last night..." forcing your words out to explain yourself. 

You were aware he probably sensed something was off when you didn’t return his calls and now you were facing the consequences of your actions. 

He was your therapy companion, for God's sake you mentally scolded yourself seconds after, your brain still feeling heavy.

"I thought I was getting better..." 

Bucky was slowly piecing everything together, the picture becoming clearer as you continued. He felt another wave of guilt crash over him, a cold feeling forming in his stomach.

That's why you didn’t pick up last night, that’s why you’ve been so distant.

And he had come over, intruding on your life like an idiot, making it all worse. He held you a little tighter, gently pulling you closer against his chest.

"You are getting better..." he mumbled against your hair.

You actually sob at his words and the way he was now holding you. It felt good, safe and everything you hadn't felt in ages. And that scared you shitless.

"Stealing my words here..." you said, even if your voice was broken, trying to joke as your brain started refocusing itself slowly.

You wouldn't admit it to him or anyone except your therapist, but funnily enough the proximity and the contact helped ground you and not let your intrusive thoughts win.

Even if your major trauma stemmed from touch itself.

And he was indeed helping you now.

Bucky let out a small huff; somewhere between a scoff and a chuckle. Maybe stealing your words wasn't that bad, you sounded better after all.

He felt the tension that had been present in your body slowly drain away as he continued to hold you, his hand rubbing small circles on your back.

It shouldn’t feel this good to hold you, and even less feel this protective over you.

He ignored the thought for now, gently pulling you closer to his chest.

"Do you want to talk about it…?" he mumbled quietly.

A soft broken sigh left your lips right after his question, relief quickly washing over your body as Bucky kept on silently comforting you.

You're safe. It's ok, were the thoughts that now replaced the pain in your brain, keeping you sane.

At his question, you just nodded yes, still you didn’t move an inch from where you were, body still aching, too convinced that if you let go you'd fall to the floor.

Bucky felt some of the tension drain from his own shoulders as well as you settled against his chest, the sight of you relaxing against him making his heart feel warmer.

He continued to hold you against him for a few more moments, his hand still rubbing at your back in calming circles.

But then, he did something he shouldn’t have. 

He gently placed a light kiss on the top of your head, an intimate gesture of comfort.

You felt good, calmer even but when you felt the press of lips on top of your head and his breath ghosting in your hair you froze.

This wasn't right, this shouldn’t be happening… this... 

You thought, as your breath hitched slightly while you pulled away, still very much shocked as you looked up at him.

"What..? Did you..?”

Bucky’s heart jumped into his throat when you suddenly pulled away, immediately missing the warmth of your body against his. And when you looked up at him, a mixture of shock and confusion in your eyes, his heart sank.

It was then that he realized what he had just done.

His heart still hammering against his chest as he opened his mouth to speak, stuttering out the first words he could think of.

"I don’t-... I don’t know what came over me-... I'm sorry-” he tried.

You took another step back, your eyes never leaving Bucky's face, watching him as he just realized what he had done.

You didn't want to be mean, to mock him or anything but this wasn't right.

"... I... listen..." you started, voice wavering a little…" we're just…in a program together… there's… there's nothing-" 

Then you stumbled a little, both your hand went to grip the sink behind you to keep you upright. Still, you felt confused, mind clouded as a strange feeling grew inside you. 

Bucky felt his heart ache at your words. He knew you were right, of course, you were right.

But in that moment, the realization dawned on him, the realization that he liked you. He wanted you and the thought scared the hell out of him.

He quickly reached out and gently grabbed your elbow to help keep you steady when you stumbled.

He didn’t speak for a moment, a lump in his throat as he cursed himself silently, the fear of losing whatever you both had taking over him.

You flinched out of instinct when you felt his hand touching you again.

This wasn't on purpose, you weren't scared of him but… What if he wanted more? What if he took advantage of your weak state?

That's why you were fine to keep all therapy partners distant, communicating only when needed and not meeting with any of them. 

This was wrong, this shouldn’t have happened, you needed to heal not get worse.

"I… I think you should go..." you said after a few minutes, looking away."... I... I'll still help you if you… need me to.”

Bucky felt as if he had been punched in the gut as you flinched away from his touch.

The thought of you fearing him broke his heart even more, confirming every thought his traitorous brain was throwing at him. It was all his fault.

He had pushed, he had been rude and he had to go and act on the feelings he wasn’t supposed to have.

So when you mumbled the next words, he quickly nodded, letting go of your elbow.

"Yeah... yeah alright… whatever you want,” he replied as he took a step back and quickly left the bathroom.

You stood still, looking away until you heard the front door open and close, then you collapsed, knees hitting the floor.

You were trembling, you felt confused as stray tears now streamed down your face again but you also felt at a loss, like someone had stolen your breath.

The next morning you didn’t even remember how you got to bed but you had no intention of leaving it any time soon. 

You had nothing much to do and with Bucky probably out of the picture, it was you, alone, all over again.

Still, out of habit in the hours that followed, you checked your phone all the same, finding nothing, as you had expected.

Bucky, on the other hand, was pissed. At himself, that was.

He kept replaying what had happened in his head, the look on your face, the way you had flinched away from him...

All because he had been too nosy, pushing you into an episode, and then on top of that, he had gone and acted on his stupid feelings.

___________________

If you got this far, thank you...more is coming as I already have 40k words about this. <3

[writingmyheartsout]

Church - a meet-cute with Bucky Barnes

While you all are waiting for Nobody's Soldier chapter 2, I thought about giving you the other story I'm working on.

It's mostly a meet-cute/bookshop au, so not much of a warning with this (well, maybe until the end) narrated between the present and the past. Set post-tfatws.

Title is a song from Chase Atlantic. Chapter name is a song from Lifehouse.

Thanks to @kandis-mom for the help with this one. This fic is only on Wattpad and soon on Ao3

CW : Bucky post mission and acting domestic, mention of bruises, reader is afab, reader is short, first meeting, fluff, wholesome, lots of love and embarrassment, reader doesn't know who he really is.

________________

Ch. 1 - You and Me

It was getting pretty late, but despite that you were unable to make it to the bed, wondering if your boyfriend was alright or when he would actually come back home. That same afternoon he had texted you just to tell you that, after being gone for almost two weeks.

So you ended up sitting on the new leather sofa you got a month ago, curled up under a light blanket and with the tv on but not really watching it.

Then, the sound of a key turning distracted you from your thoughts as you perked up and watched Bucky come through the front door. He entered with an armload of takeout bags and a tired expression on his face.

"Thought you'd be asleep by now, dollface." he said as soon as he saw you, the sight of you bringing a smile to his face.

At that, the slight frown that was on your face before eased as you smiled back.

"I couldn't, knowing you were coming back. Wanted to wait for you" you said softly, watching him move over the couch after placing the bags on the table and taking off his jacket. Your gaze followed every movement as he settled down next to you and noticed how his body relaxed immediately.

"You alright?" you asked then, a hint of worry in your voice.

He placed an arm around your shoulders and tugged you into his side as he sat down, pressing a kiss to your cheek while holding you close. He felt relieved to finally be home, to finally see you and he couldn't help the warmth that started spreading in his chest.

"Better, now that you're in my arms," he murmured, gazing at you with those clear blue eyes like you were the most precious thing in the world.

"But It's late. You have work in the morning. You didn't have to wait for me." he only answered, his other hand coming to cradle your cheek.

You smiled as soon as he pulled you close, his soft eyes, now tired and half-opened looked down at you with such love. You felt your cheeks flush a little under his gaze.

"Shush, I may have taken two days off after you told me you were back, so don't worry" you only replied, slowly leaning to place a soft kiss on his lips.

"But you better go wash off, you smell really bad, baby.."

Bucky chuckled as you scolded him, pressing another kiss to your lips and then leaning down to steal a quick kiss against your neck as well, just for good measure.

He couldn't help but love all the little moments he was able to get with you. They were simple, sweet, and most importantly, felt very domestic. After all, you two had moved in together just two months ago and being able to come home to someone after even the roughest mission, sometimes covered in bruises and scrapes, was such a blessing in his mind.

"Oh, do I? You still kiss me though," he murmured and smiled against your skin

"That's because I missed you that much, you idiot.." you said playfully, teasing him back.

"But seriously, I can't check on you if you don't.." you added softly, closing your eyes for a moment longer as you enjoyed how his lips felt against your skin and his warmth.

Even when he was away for longer times sometimes, there were moments like this one that convinced you further that this was what you wanted and he was just the right man for you.

Bucky smiled when you bit back at him, moving his hand up from your cheek to run his fingers through your hair while moving back to look at you. He loved it when you were like this. It made him feel grounded, and very much less tired.

"Mm, you could check on me in the shower. Make it a little less lonely." He suggested in a slightly taunting tone, trying to coax you off to the bathroom with him.

You smiled at his obvious hint, one of your hands moving to cup his cheek as your gaze was fixed on him.

"You really missed me..that much?.." you then replied as you placed yet another kiss on his lips.

The way he was with you, the way he only let himself be vulnerable since the beginning, how different he was, made your heart grow and beat faster than you could possibly handle. And even if the decision to move in together came way too quickly than you expected, it ended up being probably the best decision you ever made in your life.

"Every minute of every day." He replied simply, a look of sincerity in his eyes. He meant what he said, he knew that you could tell as he leaned into your touch more, loving the warm and comforting nature of it.

Then he closed the small distance between you both and kissed you again, letting his lips linger against yours for a few beats. His arms slid down and tightened around your waist.

"Come with me? I could really use the backup." He murmured, his metal hand moving down further to grip your rear slightly, just to add a more playful note to his words.

"Well, if you asking it like that.." you murmured against his soft lips. You gasped when he squeezed at your ass to prove a point, feigning annoyance at the gesture but then added.

"Maybe I can even help you out..." a small smirk now pulling at your lips..." if you're good enough"

And the way he leaned into your touch, as he always did, hugged you or touched you anytime he could, was honestly still intoxicating even after such a long time together.

Bucky smiled at that, leaning down to kiss your cheek before he was off the couch, pulling you up with him and then to the bathroom. Once there he slowly started to undress, letting you help him as he tried to suppress the wince of pain everytime the fabric brushed against his fresh bruises.

Only then, discarding his dirty clothes anywhere, he switched the shower on, briefly feeling the warm water spray over his back as he turned to face you again. He tugged teasingly at the bottom of your shirt before pulling it off you completely and letting his hands run over your skin.

"I missed you. I missed all of this.." he murmured against your lips as he leaned closer.

"I don't think I tell you that enough.."

His touch so gentle and yet so hot against your skin as you let him undress you, sent a faint shiver down your spine. The next moment he pulled you closer, making you follow him under the warm water as you relished in his touch and sweet words while both your hands rested on his chest.

"Don't worry about that now, baby.." you started softly, one hand slowly slid up to his cheek.

"You coming back home every time, is enough for me"

Bucky let the water spray over both of you as his hold on you tightened slightly, loving the feeling of his skin against yours. His hands traced along your spine as he pressed you up against the wall of the large shower to kiss you again.

He had loved you from the first minute he saw you and he knew that he loved you with every single fiber of his being. Moments like this, they proved everything. He loved you, you loved him, and that's all that mattered.

"I love you," he breathed, voice low, before placing another fleeting kiss on your lips.

"I love you too.." you whispered back, looking at him softly as both your arms went around his neck.

Moments like this, where he was so gentle yet desperate reminded you why you loved him so much.

But those weren't the only things.

Actually, the first thing that made you fall for him was his eyes. It was the first night he walked into the bookstore you worked in.

Those same eyes that widened in honest surprise when you helped him with a book he couldn't find.

_______________________

It was almost closing time that night. It was cold outside as it always was around this time of the year and the only thing you wanted was to go home when you heard someone coming in.

Bucky had come into the bookstore on a whim, thinking that he could pick up a good book to distract himself for a bit.

He wasn't looking for anything specific, even if he had plenty of suggestions others had given him. He was simply browsing and getting distracted when he spotted you as you smiled at him.

You seemed kind enough, at least to him as he awkwardly approached you when he couldn't find the one book he sort of knew. He had been staring at your smile more than he intended to, completely missing the little table filled with books until he accidentally bumped into it.

"Jesus.." Bucky cursed when he knocked into the table in his distraction, glancing over to see that he had knocked over some books in the process.

At that, he crouched down to start picking them up but you were there much quicker than him, crouching down beside him as he immediately met your gaze. His own eyes widening a little at how pretty you actually looked upclose before he uttered an almost too quiet "I'm sorry.."

At his apology, another smile pulled at your lips as your eyes met his and you almost forgot how to breathe at the sight of his eyes.

Those were the most beautiful eyes you ever saw in your life you thought, trying to pull yourself together enough to be professional.

"Oh no it's fine.." you said then, looking down to pick up more books as you felt your cheeks warming up slightly.

"Really.." you added, ignoring the strange flutter in your stomach.." ..happens all the time"

Bucky's frown lessened somewhat when you spoke, your voice gentle and kind as he found himself unable to stop staring at you. He was still holding a random book loosely in his hands as he got distracted by how pretty you were in his eyes.

He glanced over your face the moment you looked down, taking in your features, the warm smile, your slightly flushed cheeks and your soft side profile. Yes, you were definitely the most beautiful person he had seen so far.

"Y-yeah.." He stammered out, immediately cursing himself for sounding like a nervous wreck already.

He glanced away from you and back down at the books, trying to gather himself for a moment, but the sight of your hands reaching in to help him pick up the books wasn't any better.

He took in a breath and tried to focus on the task instead of how pretty you were. It was tough to do so, so he just cleared his throat slightly and asked "..do you work here?"

"A-actually yes.." you replied then, picking up the last book and putting it on the small table as you stood up.

You didn't know why you even stammered your words out, you were actually really good with words, with the work you had and all. But those eyes, the way they were watching you were so different and you strangely found yourself liking it.

"Do you need help?"

Bucky followed your every move as he rose to his full height alongside you and once on his feet again, it became apparent he was a few inches taller than you. His clear eyes looked down and studied your face again, shifting from foot to foot as his hands clutched at the book to keep himself from reaching out in some way. The way you looked was doing things to him that he had never experienced before.

"I'm not sure, I'm looking for a novel, I think. Do...do you think you could help me?" he answered, trying to remember the actual name of the book Sam told him the other day.

"Well, I.. " you started as you took in his height, trying not to stare too much at him..."Yeah, I can-I can try actually" you added smiling, turning and avoiding his gaze altogether as you walked back to the counter.

That was your job after all. But those eyes, so bright and pure, they kept messing with your head, confusing you and leaving you almost speechless.

"What were...you looking for, exactly?"

Bucky tried to keep his gaze on your face as you spoke, but he kept getting drawn to the slope of your neck and the curve of your shoulder when you weren't looking.

He cleared his throat again and fidgeted with the cover of the book he still had in his hands, almost too nervous for his own good.

What was happening to him? Where had you been his whole life, and why was he feeling this way?

"Um... I think it was called The Picture of Dorian Grey?" he answered, taking a deep breath and looking away just for a second. Then he followed suit behind you, still unsure if he had the name right.

You lightly chuckled at his honest mistake, typing away at the computer to find where the book was. You completely missed how his gaze wandered from your face to your neck as you busied yourself.

"Actually.." you said then, meeting his eyes for a moment then back at the screen in front of you.

"It's called the portrait of Dorian Gray, probably that's probably why you couldn't find it"

Bucky silently berated himself, watching your fingers moving fast on the keyboard as you typed away on the computer, then up again at your face.

He wasn't typically one to get so embarrassed and clumsy, but there was something about you that just threw him off but in the best way possible.

"Ah, yeah, that's probably why.." He admitted sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head as he came to stand closer to you.

You couldn't help the little smile at his last sentence, finding it cute how almost shy he sounded.

"I've seen worse..." you replied to him, your tone light and sincere as you looked up at him once again..."It's not the end of the world"

"I will help you get the book, alright?" you added with a polite smile, quickly making your way over to where the book was without waiting for an answer.

It was late and you still had lots of other things left to do but this person, this stranger was a nice change to your boring routine tonight.

Bucky couldn't help a small smile at your little reassurance. The soft sound of your voice was soothing to him in a way that he couldn't explain.

"Thanks.." he said quietly, meaning it as he followed along while you made your way deeper into the bookshop.

It was strange, but he felt like he was drawn to you, like he didn't want to leave. He was just as happy to spend the whole night helping you close down the store, just to get to talk to you a little more.

"I feel like I should be thanking you twice now.." he joked lightly then when you both stopped near a rather tall bookshelf.

"Thanking me twice?.." you curiously asked, as your attention was still fixed on finding the book in question.

"Why's that? I'm just doing my job..." you added, only to squeal when you finally found it.

"Ah ah ...there you are.." as you stretched higher to pick it up, obviously struggling due to you being on the shorter side.

"Why there isn't a ladder around when you need one.." you then grumbled quietly under your breath.

Bucky chuckled at your small squeal and then again at your complaint. You were too small for this, and it was absolutely adorable.

"Well, you've helped me twice," he answered, watching you struggle for a moment longer before stepping in.

"Here, let me," he said as he reached up and easily tugged the book from its spot on the top shelf and then handed it over.

"Don't want you to hurt yourself, doll." He teased with a light smile.

"Thanks... I.." you said or tried to when he helped you, handing the book over to you as soon as he got it.

But then his last sentence made words die in your throat as you found yourself speechless.

Doll? What? Was that an old-fashioned compliment perhaps? You thought as a slight frown crossed your face for a second.

But the way he said that, so naturally and gently, it seemed the most fascinating word you ever heard.

"I-I mean... thank you.." you tried, clearing your throat while your cheeks grew warmer.

Bucky smiled as he passed you the book, enjoying the faint colouring of your cheeks as you spoke, wondering if he was making you just as flustered and awkward as he was.

He honestly was just teasing with the nickname, but the way you reacted to it had him silently promising to call you that again as soon as he could.

"No, thank you.." he replied, taking half a step closer as he took in your flushed face. "..for saving me from my idiocy again."

"Ah, you're no idiot, really.." you started, giving him a small smile even if you felt your face literally going on fire.

"You're probably the nicest customer I had so far, today.." you added, as a soft chuckle escaped you.

And the most beautiful, you thought.

Then you couldn't help but notice how he moved closer and for whatever reason you didn't mind, finding yourself unwilling to move from where you were.

But when you were about to say more, the phone rang, breaking whatever tension was building there as you quickly walked over to the counter to answer.

He chuckled at that, not entirely convinced that he wasn't an idiot.

"Nice for someone who knocked over a whole stack of books.." he teased lightly, a smirk on his face as he followed you to the register when the phone started ringing.

Then he leaned with his arms against the counter, tilting his head to the side a bit as he watched you and then the phone.

"Guess you need to answer that..?" he lightly teased, finding himself unable to stop.

"I'm afraid I am.." you said quietly as you gave him another smile, still not being able to divert your attention from him.

Why can't you stop smiling at him? you thought, not really understanding what was going on in your mind as you cursed yourself.

And even when you picked up the receiver it was like you couldn't tear your gaze away.

Until the other person on the other side spoke. Fuck, why was this so awkward?

"Yeah, yeah everything's alright Miss Redmond.." you said then, answering to the person on the other end as you finally turned away from him for a moment.

"Yeah...I'm about to close..yes.." you answered, fumbling with random things on the desk in front of you as you tried to focus on the conversation.

"..no, it wasn't so bad honestly.." you stated with a light chuckle to then muttering a quiet oh

"No...no it's not a problem, I'll open tomorrow morning... Yeah bye..bye, goodnight.."

Then you sighed, turning back at him.

Bucky watched you the whole time. When you picked up the phone or how you replied to whatever they were asking you while you fiddled with whatever you could find in front of you. It was endearing in a way.

Still, he had a feeling about what the person on the other side was saying, and judging by your expressions, it was something you were not looking forward to.

Once you were done, he immediately knew he was right.

"You don't look too happy about it.. " he spoke then, frowning slightly and watching you as you sighed, taking in the clear annoyance and frustration on your face.

"Your boss, I'm guessing?" He asked lightly, his eyes never leaving you.

"Yeah..." you scoffed visibly annoyed, placing the book still in your hands on the counter as your gaze went, out of habit, on the screen at the side of you.

"She's not bad, she's just extremely demanding.." you started, looking at him again with a small smile, trying to act as if nothing happened.

"And I'm far too nice to say no to her, do you want that one too, by the way?" you added, only to gesture at the other book he was casually holding.

Bucky shrugged his shoulders at the description you gave him, not at all surprised to hear that your boss was so demanding. He also figured that you probably were far too polite for your own good.

"Sorry to hear that, that's unfortunate, but very typical," he said genuinely.

Then he chuckled at your last words, looking down at the other book still in his hands. God, he felt so hopeless.

"Is it obvious I'm that of a big of a reader?" he joked before nodding, "But sure, I'll get this one too and I... I'll also take any recommendations you might have" he tried, setting the book down on the counter and then looked at you again, a hint of a small smirk on his face.

You were somehow glad for his comment, for his understanding while checking out both books and adding a small third one, like you always did with every purchase.

"Not a bad thing, as I see it at least.." you said then, closing the bag nicely.

"But as for recommendations, I could always have you signed up for the membership card" you added half joking but still doing your job as your gaze went from him to the screen as you started closing all the tabs.

"Is that your pitch to get me to buy more books?" he teased, as the membership card offer made him genuinely chuckle.

"Do I get a discount or something?" he then genuinely asked, his eyes on you still as he occasionally focused on how your fingers moved around so quickly.

"Well.." you started, playfully retorting at his joke, or trying to, with a slight pitch in your voice.."..what did you think I'm doing here? That's kind of my job"

And the way his gaze never faltered, taking note of your every move, even if he thought you didn't notice combined with the light teasing made your heart flutter a little more.

Why did he keep looking at you that way? Why was he so damn nice? you asked yourself.

"But yeah, sort of..and new recommendations every month.." you added as you couldn't help how your eyes went to meet his for just a second.

"What can I say? You're very, very good at it, I have to admit.." he admitted softly. He could see how you were struggling to keep eye contact, and he had to wonder if he was the cause of it, once again.

The thought alone made him feel confused and happy somehow, considering he was still very much flustered beyond comprehension even if he was trying not to show it, much.

"But free books? I'm definitely interested then.." he teased again, now leaning against the counter a bit more to get closer to you.

"Alright...alright .." you chuckled at his tease, diverting your eyes from him and looking down, while you took one of the cards you had available.

"It's nothing fancy, we're a small bookshop after all" you stated a little bit more nervously than you intended to.

" But I guess I'd need your full name, are you still ok with that?" you then added, asking it out of courtesy and making sure he wasn't uncomfortable with that.

The sound of your voice was so pleasant to him that he almost missed what you were asking him as he watched you get the card you needed. Deep down he knew that agreeing in getting a membership was just another excuse for him to stay here longer.

"That's alright, I think small bookstores are much more quaint.." he confessed, somehow completely forgetting what he had to say and only remembering it when you looked up at him with a confused look.

"Yeah, yeah... it's fine. It's James Buchanan Barnes" he answered quickly, feeling like a complete fool and berating himself silently.

"It's.." you started, looking up again at him for a moment with a questioning look.

"You do have a middle name, is that a middle name?.." you asked, tilting your head to the side. At the same time, you couldn't help to think that the name sounded...familiar..in a way but you quickly dismissed the feeling.

"It's so rare these days.." you added, looking down again to write down a few last things more, to then give him said card.

Bucky chuckled at your surprise, nodding his head once to then answer your question.

"Yeah, Buchanan. Let's just say I'm a man of many names" he joked lightly. He didn't feel like giving too much away yet, but surely he was taken aback when you didn't say more about it.

Didn't you know who he really was? Well, that was a first he thought.

"Still, I think I like James better..." you said almost without thinking, not noticing how Bucky's cheeks tinged lightly pink or how his smile got somewhat wider.

Then he paused, that feeling of his whole world being rocked coming over again as you said his first name. For some reason, hearing that from you, made him feel weirdly happy.

After that moment you kept talking a bit more, well he mostly, noticing how a little tension had started to build up between the two of you. He even offered to walk you home after closing but you politely denied it, as you still felt a bit confused about what had happened.

But the morning after, when you showed up early to open, he came around again, just enough to bring you a cup of coffee. That single gesture left a smile on your face that lasted the whole time, lifting your mood and making the day go by faster.

Were you falling for him already?

________________

So hopefully i did it right. It's not the first story I write with this method and I really wanted to tell their story. Story is multichapter, with everytime telling a bit of the story, so more is coming soon.

[writingmyheartsout]

I know y'all are waiting for Nobody's Soldier 2 chapter, but I'm still editing it.

Meanwhile, here is Church first chapter I'm working on.

And if you didn’t read the snipped, this is a kind of a meet cute /bookstore au with Bucky ♥️ (wanted something soft and domestic)

Coming soon

[writingmyheartsout]

Wanted to thank everyone for taking some time to read the first chapter, so I did a moodboard (sums up most of the story)

I just want to reassure you that yes, I'm working on the 2 chapter (+ a bonus one, since I'll be away for a few days at the end of the month) and I may have a little gift as well...

I'm working on another fic, a meet-cute/bookstore au actually (a post-tfatws) called Church.

here is a small unedited snipped

"What you...were looking for?”

Bucky tried to keep his gaze on your face as he answered, but he kept getting drawn to the slope of your neck and the curve of your shoulder when you weren't looking. 

He cleared his throat again and fidgeted with the random book he still had in his hands, almost nervous. 

What was happening to him? Where had you been his whole life, and why was he feeling this way?

"Um... I think it was called The Picture of Dorian Grey?" He answered, still uncertain if he had the name right.

You barely noticed how his gaze wandered from your face to your neck as you finally diverted your eyes.

"Actually.." you said then, making your way back to the bookstore's computer as a light chuckle escaped you at his mistake.

"It's called *the portrait of Dorian Gray*, probably that's why...you couldn't find it”

Bucky silently berated himself as he followed behind you, his pace a little slower as he watched you type away on the computer. 

He wasn't typically one to get so embarrassed and clumsy, but there was something about you that just… threw him off but in the best way possible.

[writingmyheartsout]

Only to say that I'm working hard on second chapter of Nobody's Soldier ♥️ (I'm just having a chaotic time here lately)

And btw, thanks to the ones that took time to read the first, after a year and half of not posting something, it is very much appreciated.

[writingmyheartsout]

Nobody's Soldier - a Bucky Barnes story.

So here we are, finally the first part of this story. The prompt was simple paired in a therapy program and the first that came to my mind was Bucky (since the hyperfixation came back) and yes the title is an Hozier song.

Hope you like it <3 (thanks to the awesome beta @green-binder as well )

This fic is also on Ao3 and Wattpad

Nobody's Soldier playlist

CW: talking about trauma, PTSD, nightmares, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning himself), trauma, trauma bonding, unexpected feelings, slight obsession, anxiety, denial, manipulation, reader has female pronous.

(Not much major warnings in this, next one will be a bit heavier)

____________

Ch. 1 - Paralyzed

"A what now?" Bucky asked his therapist with furrowed brows, visibly in confusion.

"It's a therapy companion program. I think it would be good for you.." Doctor Raynor said bluntly, leaning back in her chair but looking at him with a stern expression. ”…You need to talk to people."

Bucky glares quietly at her then, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. He didn't need this.

"Who… the hell anyway...?" he started but suddenly stopped when he heard another voice coming from the doorway.

"Hello Doctor..." you said, standing in the doorway with a bright smile on your face, arriving early as you always did.

You did this before, this program, you were involved from the very beginning and you had already been paired with four people already. Three of them were living their best lives, with little to no problems, but one was still in the program yet away from you, as he had accidentally developed feelings. Safe to say, that time didn't end well.

You hoped this one would be, at least, nice.

As soon as the doctor invited you in, you moved closer, greeting them politely again as soon as you sat down, but he didn't take your hand in return.

You shrugged a little at that, you knew that people could come off as rude with new people around, especially in places like these, and there was nothing wrong with that.

Right after you greeted him, to no answer, Bucky glanced at you the moment you looked away as you listened to whatever the doctor was saying, looking you up and down once, while having mixed feelings about the whole ordeal.

It wasn’t as if he disliked you immediately, he didn't even know you. But the thought of being paired with someone he'd never met made his blood boil with annoyance before even starting. 

The sole idea of talking to a stranger, of opening up to them… He was uncomfortable enough with his therapist, how bad would it be with you?

On the other hand, you completely missed the look of annoyance he had on his face, looking at you uncertainly while you listened to the doctor.

You had and still have your fair share of traumas, but as some kind of coping mechanism, you hid it fairly well, something your own doctor was still trying to fix. As a result, you were exceptionally good with others, listening to them and even helping them to start believing in themselves. All the things you didn’t have, not from the people you wanted to.

Then Bucky let out a silent sigh, turning to look out the window completely uninterested in the whole situation as he focused on the cars driving past the building instead. 

He didn't have to talk about anything he didn't want to, he thought, scoffing slightly in his mind.

Although, with the therapist watching, he knew he'd have to be civil. He glances back at you before looking back out the window. 

"You don't need to be here," he says bluntly then, keeping his eyes focused outside.

"Excuse me?" both you and the doctor turned to him, and you frowned while the therapist explained to him for the nth time why he needed to do this.

You weren't hurt by his words, per se, it was the reaction everyone had, especially with a program like this one, so you were used to it. You shrugged and looked away while he argued with his doctor.

It’s true, you didn’t need to be there, you were well aware of that. Your gaze focused on your lap, and you started fidgeting nervously with your sleeve, pulling at an invisible thread on your sweater.

"I don't need a damn babysitter…" he scoffed, leaning back in his seat before his eyes darted over to you, looking you up and down as his eyes narrowed in silent disapproval. 

“James, don’t start… I already explained why…” Doctor Raynor repeated, visibly annoyed as the frown on her face deepened.

At that he sighed in annoyance, the idea of this program pissed him off. Being seen as weak and in need of someone to watch over him was enough to drive him up the wall.

He didn't need anyone to take care of him. He was a former trained assassin for God's sake.

At that, you looked back with the most unreadable expression on your face and just gently smiled. Then with one last look at the doctor, you spoke up again.

"I'm well aware and I don't pretend to know anything you're going through..." you said, your tone calm yet firm, standing up right after.

"Look… Bucky? Bucky, right…?" you quickly asked before continuing…”.. we've all been there more or less so I'm not forcing you to do anything, really.” 

But before leaving, you pulled something from your pocket, giving it to him.

"This is my number if you ever need anything or someone to stay silent with…up to you," you added, in a much more gentle tone.

After that you walked away but not before saying goodbye to the doctor with a smile back on your face. 

Bucky didn't like the way you smiled at him. It was like you saw something he couldn’t and he didn't like not knowing things. 

His brows furrowed as he watched you get up. He sat there in slight shock as you spoke. 

Why were you being this damn civil with him? Didn't you want to know more? Demand answers? Knowing who he really was? All that and more pissed him off and yet intrigued him at the same time, a million thoughts starting to run around his head.

His frown deepened as you suddenly handed him a small piece of paper. He stared at it a moment before looking up and seeing you walk away. He had no intention of using that damn thing.

One week later, to the day, your phone rang.

After the little misunderstanding both of you had in the therapist's office, your life kept on going like it always did, waking up, going to work, eating… when you remembered to… having a breakdown or two, and trying to manage your anxiety. Normal stuff, just everyday things.

Not that you expected anyone to actually call you but, as you always did, when your phone rang even in the middle of the night, you answered.

This time when you picked up, it was only one sentence.

"I had a nightmare..." 

Bucky's voice was quiet over the phone. He was sitting on the floor, covered only by a thin blanket, breathing heavily as he tried to compose himself. 

Every nightmare always felt so real, so damn vivid. He could still taste the blood in his mouth. Still feel the ghosts of hands, tearing him apart. 

How long had it been since a nightmare hadn't woken him up screaming? He should be used to this by now.

"What do you need me to do?" was the only thing you said to him after that, voice gentle and quiet, partly from sleep.

And then you waited in silence. For him to just calm down over the phone or start talking, whatever he needed from you or didn't, you would help him, no matter how bad your first impression was.

Bucky stayed silent for a moment longer as he tried to catch his breath, his eyes closed tight as he focused on the sound of your voice.

Calm down. Just. Calm. Down. He kept repeating this in his mind. He didn't want to feel like this. He hated feeling like this. Anxious, terrified. Weak.

"Just..." his voice was quiet, wavering slightly. "Don't hang up.”

"I won't..." you promptly replied, your voice still soft as you sat up on the bed, hearing him trying to control his breath.

It wasn't the first time this happened with a therapy companion, it was honestly quite common, you had been there before. 

So you stayed, silence falling over you both as he calmed down, occasionally with your reassurance that everything was alright, spoken gently.

After that night, you didn’t hear from him until a month later, except for a few texts he sent went he felt like he was slipping out again, but no nightmares, or at least that's what he told you.

The more you talked, the more you felt like he was starting to open up.

The next time he did call you again, he was a complete mess.

Bucky was breathing heavily once again, sweating profusely, his eyes wide and unfocused as he stared at nothing. He knew where he was. He knew the past was just in his head. But God did it feel so real.

"I-I can't... I can't breathe." He muttered, tears of frustration welling up in his eyes as his shoulders began to shake.

"Bucky..." you started quietly as you sat on your couch, listening as he almost choked on his own breath.

But he wasn't listening, his breath was heavy, as if he was about to pass out. You knew too well what it was and how disruptive it could be. Still, it was all in his head.

"James..." you tried again, more assertive but still calm "..what can I do for you?"

Sometimes saying out their full name during a panic attack would shock them out of it, sometimes not. But you had to try, hoping this time it would work.

Bucky froze for a moment as if hearing his name was enough of a shock to freeze him in his tracks. He was breathing fast, almost panting, he was struggling to speak, to process his thoughts. It was minutes until his eyes finally refocused, looking around frantically as he realised where he was.

He was in his apartment. In his bed. Safe.

The realization was enough to make his breath hitch, a choked sob escaping his lips. It took him a couple of moments to respond, his voice sounding shaky and pained.

"I-I-" He tried, but he couldn't bring himself to say it.

"It's fine..." you whispered, heart still clenching at hearing his soft sobs and how he was still struggling to speak. 

You weren't a therapist, you couldn't be that distant with the people you were paired with, so the pang in your stomach was real. 

Was it empathy? Or did you just know what it feels like? Either way, you gave all of yourself to help when needed. 

"I can be on the phone all night if that’s what you need..." you added, a tinge of a smile on your lips. 

You wanted him to know you were there for him.

Bucky closed his eyes tightly as he tried to stop the tears from falling.

He felt humiliated. Weak. For calling you when he should have been able to handle this on his own. It was just a nightmare. 

He was a grown man, he fought in a war, he wasn’t some pathetic child who couldn't handle a nightmare.

But your voice was so damn calm and gentle. Telling him everything would be ok. That you'd stay. It calmed him slightly, but the shame was still there. 

"You… don't have to… stay up for me." He muttered quietly, voice choking up still.

"You're not alone in this..." you replied, reassuring him once more.

These same words were the same your therapist told you the first session you had and they stuck in your head since then, helping and easing the process.

"No one should be alone in this, Bucky..." you added, your tone gentle and light as you stood up and headed to the kitchen.

"It hurts, I can tell you this much, it's not going to be easy… but it will get better" you went on, while you prepared yourself for bed.

You didn't know how long you'll be on the phone so you prepared yourself for a long night.

Bucky listened quietly, to the sound of you moving around on the other end, to your words. 

He didn't understand how you stayed so calm. How even after his rude comment that first time, you still spoke to him so kindly. 

"How… how do you not get angry...?" He asks suddenly, his voice hoarse. "How do you stay so damn calm?”

You laughed quietly at his question, as you pulled a book from your stash on the bedside table.

"Who said I don't?" you replied still amused by his assumption.”…I do get angry, very much so..." you added.

"With time and age, I just learned to let go of many things, it still hurts sometimes, but there's nothing I can do.”

Bucky was a little surprised when you let out a small laugh. It wasn't what he expected from you. He was actually expecting some kind of lecture, something about meditation or some other crap like that. He was so used to the lectures from his therapist and doctors. 

But you were honest. You got angry. You let go of things. 

Then he was silent for a moment, your blunt honesty taking him off guard. 

"Doesn't it get tiring? Being so… calm all the time?” He asked, genuinely curious as he felt himself breathing regularly now, his body slightly relaxing. 

At that you sighed. Still, the smile never left your lips.

"Very much so… but..." you replied after a moment, trying to find the best way to explain this.

"It gets more tiring to be mad all the time..." you said honestly as you now lay on the bed, on one side.

"I still cry, I get panic attacks… and I zone out a lot…" you stated, recalling all the times you still found yourself alone with your breath caught in your throat, legs pulled against your chest.

"Like I said, it gets better, not perfect…”

Bucky was a little startled by your honesty. How bluntly you spoke about your own struggles just to help him out. He knew very well how difficult it was. How frustrating it was to struggle with his past. How much it hurt.

But hearing you talk so casually about your panic attacks and crying was… odd, in a way. 

He was used to hiding his struggles and pretending everything was fine, he thought it was normal. 

Then he let out a huffed sigh. 

"How long does it take, usually?” he asked, deep down already knowing the answer.

"For things to get better?" you asked honestly, a little surprised by that kind of question from him. Of course, it was a rhetorical question, getting better didn’t have a set date, everyone and everything was different when it came to mental health.

"A long time." you then replied, not wanting to sugarcoat anything for him right now.

That's what you did usually, tell them how it was and how you got there. People in the same situation as yourself were mostly tired of unnecessary bits of advice that led to nothing.

"A lot of time and therapy sessions..." you added almost laughing like it was something funny. "... your brain won't be the same though, the trauma is stuck in your head”

Bucky huffed quietly, laying back against his pillows while he listened to you. 

He expected some type of halfhearted reassurance. Some shallow statement about how he'll heal and move past everything. 

But you didn't do that. You kept your statements blunt and straight to the point. You spoke about your own experiences easily. 

You weren't like his therapist. And this was far off a therapy session.

"So… my brain will never go back to normal…" He mutters quietly, not like a question but like a realization.

You lightly chuckled on the other end. 

You expected this kind of reaction, usually that's what happened. You did it too the first time you were told about this. But you eventually accepted it, on most days.

"Your brain is normal, Bucky..." you spoke again, softly this time." ...you still think, talk, laugh and cry… that's normal."

That's what you think about yourself too, when your intrusive thoughts weren’t winning the battle. You were still functional, but living in a world that hadn't been kind to you at all.

"Just with a little spice…” you added playfully. 

Bucky listened quietly, his eyes closed as he tried to keep his breathing even still.

He still didn't understand how you could speak so nonchalantly. 

Just a little spice? He repeated your last sentence in his head, trying to convince himself.

He thought about it for a moment longer. His mind was still messed up but he was still capable of all those things. It was a simple concept but it eased his mind a little, at least for now.

"Are you just gonna keep talking until I fall asleep?" He huffed then, trying to keep his voice distant now that he had recovered.

"If you want me to..." you only replied, maybe a little more sweetly than you intended to.

But you felt responsible somehow, few times had you seen someone so broken yet so stubborn with himself and others that you genuinely wanted to help.

"I could read to you, It doesn't bother me at all..." you suggested, fully expecting him to scoff at that as he was still trying to push you away.

Bucky stayed quiet for a moment. He didn't want to admit but the sound of your voice was soothing somehow.

Normally, he would try to keep himself awake. Stare up at the ceiling until he was so tired, he passed out from exhaustion.

But now, laying in his bed listening to the sound of your voice, he found that he was tired. Not in a tired-from-exhaustion kind of way, but tired in an I-could-fall-asleep kind of way. 

"Fine.” he only answered.

"Alright..." you only said, almost smiling at his reaction. 

You could see all the signs, the reluctance, the way he avoided showing himself truly or how he still bit back. He didn't trust you and it was fine, you were still a stranger.

You ended up reading him a novel, one that told about a knight in shining armour, until he fell asleep.

The next morning you found yourself with your phone next to you, your reading glasses still on and the call ended a long time ago.

Bucky woke up in the morning slightly confused.

Looking around his darkened room, it took him a good minute or two to finally remember last night. He must have passed out during your call as he found his phone still in his hand, a glance at the time telling him it was nearly noon.

Maybe you hung up as soon as you realised he had fallen asleep.

He wondered if the previous night had all been some kind of very weird fever dream. But his phone still showed the call log. It had actually happened.

After waking up rather late you decided to work from home, luckily for you, it was possible with what you did, being between jobs had some benefits after all. 

You felt very sleepy still since you spent most of the night reading until you heard the call ending itself, so your day was slow and rather calm.

While, for once, thinking about yourself, your mind kept replaying what happened last night. How you heard Bucky cry, how his words stuttered and, after he calmed down, the questions that followed.

Then the reticence.

Later that day, right in the afternoon, you shoot him a message anyway.

-to Bucky: you ok? 

You didn't expect a reply, you were well aware of how he still tried to be distant.

And like he said the first time, you weren't his babysitter and he was a full-grown man, so it was up to him if he still wanted help.

On the other end, Bucky nearly dropped his phone when the screen lit up with your message.

He was still very much surprised that you were checking up on him. 

Why?

He stared at the message for a good few minutes, debating on what he should say or not. 

No, he wasn't ok. He was still shaken up from the nightmare he had. He was still frustrated with himself for not handling it alone. 

But he wouldn't exactly tell you any of that so he tried to come up with a reply, but it took him about an hour.

-From Bucky: I'm fine.

When the actual reply arrived, you couldn't hold back a laugh.

He was still so stubborn even after you heard him almost crying that his coldness now felt...different. 

-to Bucky: I don't believe that, but alright :) 

You went up with your usual day after that, busy with some more work while planning your next therapy session that was coming soon.

Bucky huffed quietly after receiving your reply, his eye twitching slightly. He was surprised that you didn't believe him that he was fine. 

But then again, you had heard what happened last night. You had heard him struggling to breathe. You had heard him nearly cry over the phone. 

How stupid he was to think he could convince you he was fine.

He tried to put the phone down, but he found himself picking it up again and staring at the screen. 

You just... Didn’t give up, did you? he thought, asking himself something he couldn’t reply to.

How expected, Bucky didn't reply further and that was fine with you. But deep down, to be completely honest, you started to kind of worry about him, to kind of care...

After a week, when you hadn't heard from him and had yet another session that felt hard, everything came crashing down.

At first, you were your usual happy self, telling your doctor about this therapy companion thing and what happened, minus the details.

But once you got home, you felt it, sneaky as it always was, another panic attack that slowly started to build up.

You spent months without one this strong but with the news in your life and the progress you made with therapy, it was strange that it didn't show up sooner. 

Now flashbacks of past memories and people playing in front of you, still sitting on the bathroom floor with your legs tight against your chest and your phone next to you… on silent.

When Bucky called this time, you didn’t answer.

Bucky had been ignoring the constant feeling of guilt deep in his stomach. You had helped him, saved him from that nightmare and the panic attack that followed, and his way of repaying you for that kindness was acting cold and distant? 

He couldn’t tell if you were worried about him or just nice but you were still trying to help him somehow. 

But he was too stubborn to admit he needed someone right now, to admit he needed you. 

So it was only right that he couldn't reach you when he finally picked up that damn phone.

Sitting in his living room, now staring down at his phone, Bucky tried to call you again and again, but like the other calls he already made, he was sent to voicemail. Not even an answer in text.

Dread started to fill him, his mind immediately going to the worst-case scenario. 

Did something happen? Why aren't you picking up? Did you put your phone on silent? Why?

You pulled through yet again, not without your fair share of tears and so much pain, but you did. Still, your body felt numb and sore, sitting in the same position for hours, your mouth dry and your eyes burning.

You were a complete mess, but your breathing was now finally steady. 

Still, you haven't checked your phone and honestly, it was one of your last thoughts as of now.

You didn't know the time either, as your brain was still scattered and clouded even after the shower you took just to feel something.

So when you finally picked it up, your eyes went wide and you almost cried again.

4 missed calls from Bucky

1 text from Bucky

Guilt and fear started silently spreading inside you all over again. You couldn't do this now, it felt like betrayal but you couldn't.

Bucky sat in his living room, his body stiff and filled with fear. 

He had called you about 4 times now. Each time, he was met with a voice-mail. 

What the hell was going on? 

He was tempted to do something, maybe find out where you lived and go check on you. But he forced himself to calm down, trying to convince himself to not overreact. 

You probably had your phone on silent. You probably didn't hear it. You probably were fine.

When you were about to lay in bed and have some sleep, you received another call and for a moment you were tempted to answer, but you didn’t. Instead, you placed your phone on the bedside table and got under the covers.

But when you were about to drift off, your eyes about to close you picked up your phone again and decided to, at least, read the message.

-from Bucky: what happened?

If you weren't so tired you would have laughed about it, about the worry that seeped from a single message, but even your face felt heavy.

So you just typed a quick answer.

-to Bucky: wasn't feeling myself, I'm sorry...we can chat tomorrow.

And with that, you fell asleep, exhausted and aching with your phone still in your hand.

Bucky read your message over and over again while he lay in his bed. He was still worried but the knot in his stomach started to lessen slightly. He felt like a fool for being so dramatic. 

Of course, you were just having an off day. Off days happened, especially for people like the two of you. He was just overreacting. 

He decided to send you one last text, unable to help himself.

-From Bucky: call me if you need me.

With that, he sat his phone on his bedside table and closed his eyes.

The answer to Bucky's text only arrived at the end of the next day since sleeping past your alarm had made you arrive late for a work appointment.

In other words, your day was a bit hectic.

Then you helped your neighbour on your way back home.

And when finally you were sitting on the couch, in your comfortable clothes, the tv didn't turn on. So you had to call the landlord then.

You were tired, frustrated even and not really in your best behaviour. Still, you owed Bucky an answer.

-to Bucky: did you sleep last night? Saw you were a bit worried. Anyway not my best day but I'm better. Ps: do you happen to know how to fix a tv?

Bucky read over your message, his lips twitching into an involuntary small smile. 

Not your best day. 

He could tell from the way you wrote the message that you were a little bit frustrated with how your day had gone but still tried to stay positive. It was…  cute. 

He quickly typed out a response, ignoring the strange feeling inside his chest as he sent it. 

-From Bucky: I slept alright. And how do you manage to screw up a damn tv?

-to Bucky: how dare you! I was out all day and it was already like this, called the landlord but he said there's nothing he could do :(

You typed out almost too quickly, but then you were distracted, only to finish your text minutes later.

-to Bucky: sorry my neighbour needed something… anyways I’m happy to hear you slept some, at least.

You were so focused on the broken tv, and your neighbour moving out that you didn’t tell him about the episode that happened last night. That made you feel rather guilty, you were paired for that specific reason and while you were all about helping him, you just refused to let others help you when the same thing happened.

Bucky was beginning to pick up on your behaviour, about you only talking about your struggles when you wanted to be helpful but not when you needed it. You had talked him through a panic attack but never said anything about why you were still in therapy.

At that, a feeling of determination welled up inside of him as he read over your message. 

He was going to find out what was going on with you, one way or another. Shocking even himself with that very thought.  e quickly typed out a reply. 

-From Bucky: Your landlord sounds like a douche. Maybe I could take a look at it for you.

His next message made you stop in your tracks as you crossed the room and went to the kitchen.

The other times you were paired up, it was always by calls and texts as the other were too scared to even go out, so this was kind of unexpected. With the way he had acted when you both first met and how he still tried to, this was kind of a shock.

But then, when you didn’t answer right away, another text arrived, pulling a slight smile out of you, now that he was acting worried.

-from Bucky: so? 

-to Bucky: won't hurt, can send u my address, warn me when you do though.

Bucky tried to keep his heart from beating so damn fast. It was a dumb offer, a stupid thought he had, but you had accepted nonetheless. So he wasn’t sure why he felt… nervous? 

He told himself it was because he was worried about you, worried that you might have been struggling like he was. But a small part of him couldn't help but wonder if maybe it was because he…

No!... not going there.

He stopped himself from thinking more about it, quickly replying to you. 

-From Bucky: Yeah, send me the address. I’ll be there in thirty.

I'll be there in thirty. Well that was quick, you told yourself as you read his last message, totally not expecting this sudden change of heart as a strange feeling of happiness started brewing inside you but, at the same time, you were scared.

Not because Bucky was a bad person, you were sure he had too much good in him, but for the fact that someone would actually want to come over.

This was new.

And while you were overthinking this, trying to tidy up your messy apartment as best as you could, minutes passed and suddenly someone had knocked at your door.

Bucky stood in front of your apartment, his hand raised to knock. He was starting to feel a bit dumb.

It was a stupid idea. Why did he offer to come over? Stupid, stupid, stupid!

But his mind was filled with worry, his heart racing as he continued to stand in front of your door like some kind of idiot.

He finally forced himself to knock, even if the knocking came off a bit too loudly because of his nervousness.

As soon as you opened the door your breath hitched a little. He was standing there, wearing just a pair of black jeans, a leather jacket with a dark blue jersey underneath, and…gloves? 

When did he get so tall and… no, not the right time, as you took in the unreadable expression he had on his face.

But then you quickly reminded yourself that the only time you both saw each other was in his doctor's office.

"Hi stranger..." you said, after a few seconds of internal battle within your brain.."...were you worried about me perhaps?" you joked, awkwardly and only to hide your embarrassment.

But as he looked down at you, you realized you were still in his way and stepped aside enough to let him pass.

The first impression he had of you was bad, and the second? Well, maybe now he considered you an idiot. 

Bucky stood stiffly in front of you, almost towering over you as he looked down to meet your gaze. 

Damn, you were tiny. He hadn’t noticed that before, just now realizing just how much smaller you were than him.

As he stepped in, he tried to keep the cold look on his face, but it was hard to keep his eyes from roaming over you, taking in your messy sweatpants and oversized shirt. Cute, he caught himself thinking.

"Maybe a little bit..." he muttered grudgingly, walking inside your apartment.

“Oh…” you said quietly as he walked in, surprised by his answer.

Then you saw him looking around as if he was searching for something, making you even more confused. 

Then it hit you… his doctor told you he was a former military.

"It's just… just an old tv..." you tried, not really knowing why you stuttered at first as you followed him into your living room.

Bucky kept his hands shoved into his pockets as he walked around your living room, eyes roaming over every corner in search of any potential threats. An old habit of his from his time on the front lines. 

When he spotted the television, his eyes narrowed slightly, only shedding off his jacket and remaining with just a long-sleeved shirt on.

A damn old tv, maybe older than him.

"How old is it?" he asked while he kneeled down in front of it, his fingers already picking at the back of the machine.

It took a little to answer his question, still stunned by the fact that he was really in your apartment.

The same guy that couldn't stand you the first time he saw you. 

"Very… I mean..." you replied, then quickly correcting yourself."...I don't know really, bought it used."

You confessed, cheeks slightly flushing as if you were ashamed by that. You didn't have much on your own and therapy was damn expensive, after all.

As he worked, you tried not to bother him much, staying away as much as possible and sitting quietly on the couch. 

Bucky hummed quietly while you spoke, his mind racing with questions.

How old could this tv be? And just how much did it cost you?

But he held his tongue, not wanting to risk upsetting you with his questions. 

As he continued to inspect the old device, still he noticed how he could practically sense you trying to distance yourself from him and not bothering him much. 

So he held back the urge to look at you, trying to focus on the old machine instead. 

Why were you being too damn polite? Why were you so damn far away?

As you tried to focus, still not very much into yourself after a whole day of unexpected setbacks, the bell rang making you jump a little, startling Bucky as well.

But before he could say anything, you went to check, only to realize it was just your neighbour again as soon as you opened the door.

And while you talked, you didn’t notice that her voice was so loud that it could be heard even inside your apartment, as you both were at the door and away from the living room, so much that made Bucky curious about what was happening. 

Bucky paused in his work on the tv as he heard the bell ring, his head turning to look towards you as you walked out of the room. 

He kept working, the sound of your voices filtering faintly into the living room.

He wasn't trying to listen in your conversation but the more you and your neighbour talked, the more Bucky found himself subconsciously trying to make out what was being said.

He started to feel like a creep, listening to your private conversation like this. But he couldn't help it, the curiosity was eating away at him and...

The more he listened, the more he realised that something was off. 

He slowly rose up from his kneeled position and turned to face the entrance as the voices got slightly louder.

When you finally closed the door with a loud sigh and turned to come back to the other room, you almost jumped as you found him there, standing near the entrance, with a deep frown on his face.

"Jesus..." you gasped, a hand on your chest.”...scared the hell out of me."

"You good? ...did something happen?" you then added as he kept looking between you and the front door.

Bucky kept his face stoic, his mind racing as his eyes roamed over you.

He was about to ask you about the neighbour, about your conversation. It was none of his business but… he just couldn’t stop himself. 

"What the hell was that about?" he asked, gesturing toward the door.

It was your turn to frown, as soon as the words left Bucky's mouth you got confused. 

How the hell did he...? you thought, crossing both your arms over your chest.

You were tired, still bothered by the remnants of your previous episode and on the verge of a breakdown. You couldn't handle this now.

"Listen, I'm going to be as polite as I can right now..." you started, your tone calm but with a slight edge.

"That's none of your fucking business." 

And as soon as you said that, not giving him time to reply or do anything, you stormed off and locked yourself in the bathroom, sitting on the floor as soon as you were in.

Bucky was stunned for a moment, completely taken aback by your reaction. He had been rude, pushing a personal question out of the blue. 

He hadn't really meant it, he was just worried about you. But now he realized he had gone too far, overstepping a boundary. 

God damn it, he was a moron.

He felt panic well up inside him as you stormed off into the bathroom and slammed the door behind you, the sound of the lock flicking in place echoing in the apartment.

Bucky stood frozen still, the silence from the other side of the door deafening. 

Was he supposed to wait there? Should he knock? Leave? He didn't know what to do.

He ran his hand through his hair, feeling completely lost.

He couldn’t bring himself to leave you alone, not while you were clearly upset, so after a few moments standing there awkwardly, he gently knocked on the door.

You missed the first knock, too lost in your mind yet again, trying to calm your breathing the way your therapist told you many times.

Everything seemed to shatter into tiny pieces, even the smallest things now becoming bigger problems.

You just couldn't, while you kept repeating, more like murmuring to yourself...

I'm sorry...

can't do this anymore...

please shut up

Your brain felt like it was on fire, hurting you more than you could imagine. 

Bucky's worry grew as he heard your voice quietly talking to yourself through the door.

He felt like an idiot for overstepping, causing you to feel like this. And now you were locked away from him, alone and struggling.

With a knot in his stomach, he once again knocked on the door. He hated asking but…

"Can I come in?..." he called quietly, placing his forehead against the door.

You were on the verge of crying, but for a moment your brain refocused and you heard knocking as well as Bucky's voice.

He was still here? Why?

Deep down you knew this time you couldn't do it alone, that you had to talk this out but it was like your body was trapped on the spot.

When Bucky started to beg, behind the still-closed door, you felt a heavy sense of guilt washing over you, standing up right after but barely balancing on your feet.

Then you unlocked the door before you hunched over the sink, hands gripping the surface while your breath felt ragged.

Bucky was almost surprised you opened up the door, his heart clenching at the sight of you. He had never expected to see you this vulnerable.

He really was an idiot for causing you this much anguish.

He slowly stepped into the bathroom, gently closing the door behind himself.

"Hey..." he started, not really knowing what to say.

He stepped closer behind you, not daring to touch you, his heart aching again as he saw you hunched over the sink.

When you heard the faint footsteps and Bucky's voice so gentle, you raised your head slightly, the first tears were already running down your face and you only wanted to scream, but you swallowed it.

Instead, it happened in a blur, you turned around and hugged him tight, burying your face into his shirt and leaving him stunned. 

You were weak, felt worse than ever and clearly in need of help.

Bucky’s heart stopped as you suddenly turned around and hugged him.

He had barely been able to register what was happening, but now he froze when he felt you against him. 

His arms hovered in the air at first, not knowing what to do, but the sound of muffled sobs coming from you snapped him back into reality as if suddenly his brain and body started moving again. 

So he quickly wrapped his arms around you, pulling you against him as he leaned down and gently rested his chin on the top of your head.

You didn't know how much time had passed, hell you didn’t know what time it was as it felt like everything stopped when panic started gnawing at you again.

Your head was still spinning as your fingers dug tighter into the fabric of Bucky's shirt.

And while your breath was uneven and it seemed like you couldn't hold back the tears, you felt guilt. 

Guilt of putting him into this situation. Guilt of embarrassing him so much.

"Not… not your fault.." you tried, as soon as you felt his hands on your back."...I'm sorry, I was already a mess..." your voice was muffled and broken, your brain still struggling to form a coherent thought on its own.

Bucky felt his heart twist in his chest as he listened to your broken voice. 

He kept his chin on your head, listening to you speak.

"What are you apologizing for?" he asked gently, rubbing his palm up and down your back in an attempt to soothe you.

"I’m at fault here, it's my fault you’re upset," he said quietly, silently scolding himself for being so damn nosy and rude.

"I was..." you croaked out then.."I had… an episode last night..." forcing your words out to explain yourself. 

You were aware he probably sensed something was off when you didn’t return his calls and now you were facing the consequences of your actions. 

He was your therapy companion, for God's sake you mentally scolded yourself seconds after, your brain still feeling heavy.

"I thought I was getting better..." 

Bucky was slowly piecing everything together, the picture becoming clearer as you continued. He felt another wave of guilt crash over him, a cold feeling forming in his stomach.

That's why you didn’t pick up last night, that’s why you’ve been so distant.

And he had come over, intruding on your life like an idiot, making it all worse. He held you a little tighter, gently pulling you closer against his chest.

"You are getting better..." he mumbled against your hair.

You actually sob at his words and the way he was now holding you. It felt good, safe and everything you hadn't felt in ages. And that scared you shitless.

"Stealing my words here..." you said, even if your voice was broken, trying to joke as your brain started refocusing itself slowly.

You wouldn't admit it to him or anyone except your therapist, but funnily enough the proximity and the contact helped ground you and not let your intrusive thoughts win.

Even if your major trauma stemmed from touch itself.

And he was indeed helping you now.

Bucky let out a small huff; somewhere between a scoff and a chuckle. Maybe stealing your words wasn't that bad, you sounded better after all.

He felt the tension that had been present in your body slowly drain away as he continued to hold you, his hand rubbing small circles on your back.

It shouldn’t feel this good to hold you, and even less feel this protective over you.

He ignored the thought for now, gently pulling you closer to his chest.

"Do you want to talk about it…?" he mumbled quietly.

A soft broken sigh left your lips right after his question, relief quickly washing over your body as Bucky kept on silently comforting you.

You're safe. It's ok, were the thoughts that now replaced the pain in your brain, keeping you sane.

At his question, you just nodded yes, still you didn’t move an inch from where you were, body still aching, too convinced that if you let go you'd fall to the floor.

Bucky felt some of the tension drain from his own shoulders as well as you settled against his chest, the sight of you relaxing against him making his heart feel warmer.

He continued to hold you against him for a few more moments, his hand still rubbing at your back in calming circles.

But then, he did something he shouldn’t have. 

He gently placed a light kiss on the top of your head, an intimate gesture of comfort.

You felt good, calmer even but when you felt the press of lips on top of your head and his breath ghosting in your hair you froze.

This wasn't right, this shouldn’t be happening… this... 

You thought, as your breath hitched slightly while you pulled away, still very much shocked as you looked up at him.

"What..? Did you..?”

Bucky’s heart jumped into his throat when you suddenly pulled away, immediately missing the warmth of your body against his. And when you looked up at him, a mixture of shock and confusion in your eyes, his heart sank.

It was then that he realized what he had just done.

His heart still hammering against his chest as he opened his mouth to speak, stuttering out the first words he could think of.

"I don’t-... I don’t know what came over me-... I'm sorry-” he tried.

You took another step back, your eyes never leaving Bucky's face, watching him as he just realized what he had done.

You didn't want to be mean, to mock him or anything but this wasn't right.

"... I... listen..." you started, voice wavering a little…" we're just…in a program together… there's… there's nothing-" 

Then you stumbled a little, both your hand went to grip the sink behind you to keep you upright. Still, you felt confused, mind clouded as a strange feeling grew inside you. 

Bucky felt his heart ache at your words. He knew you were right, of course, you were right.

But in that moment, the realization dawned on him, the realization that he liked you. He wanted you and the thought scared the hell out of him.

He quickly reached out and gently grabbed your elbow to help keep you steady when you stumbled.

He didn’t speak for a moment, a lump in his throat as he cursed himself silently, the fear of losing whatever you both had taking over him.

You flinched out of instinct when you felt his hand touching you again.

This wasn't on purpose, you weren't scared of him but… What if he wanted more? What if he took advantage of your weak state?

That's why you were fine to keep all therapy partners distant, communicating only when needed and not meeting with any of them. 

This was wrong, this shouldn’t have happened, you needed to heal not get worse.

"I… I think you should go..." you said after a few minutes, looking away."... I... I'll still help you if you… need me to.”

Bucky felt as if he had been punched in the gut as you flinched away from his touch.

The thought of you fearing him broke his heart even more, confirming every thought his traitorous brain was throwing at him. It was all his fault.

He had pushed, he had been rude and he had to go and act on the feelings he wasn’t supposed to have.

So when you mumbled the next words, he quickly nodded, letting go of your elbow.

"Yeah... yeah alright… whatever you want,” he replied as he took a step back and quickly left the bathroom.

You stood still, looking away until you heard the front door open and close, then you collapsed, knees hitting the floor.

You were trembling, you felt confused as stray tears now streamed down your face again but you also felt at a loss, like someone had stolen your breath.

The next morning you didn’t even remember how you got to bed but you had no intention of leaving it any time soon. 

You had nothing much to do and with Bucky probably out of the picture, it was you, alone, all over again.

Still, out of habit in the hours that followed, you checked your phone all the same, finding nothing, as you had expected.

Bucky, on the other hand, was pissed. At himself, that was.

He kept replaying what had happened in his head, the look on your face, the way you had flinched away from him...

All because he had been too nosy, pushing you into an episode, and then on top of that, he had gone and acted on his stupid feelings.

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If you got this far, thank you...more is coming as I already have 40k words about this. <3