#I would not want a therapist like Dr. Raynor

[questionableratatouille00]

𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘋𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘒𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐’𝘥 𝘋𝘰 (𝘍𝘰𝘳 𝘠𝘰𝘶)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You and Bucky explore ways to practice non-sexual intimacy.

Warnings: Non-sexual nudity, implied past SA, bad therapist Dr. Raynor, showering together, implied panic attack, let me know if anything else needs to be tagged.

Help! I haven’t read the first part!

“You struggle with intimacy.” Dr. Raynor’s unmistakable voice rang through his head.

He glared at her, his brows furrowed. “What?” His voice was slightly hoarse, so the word came out all croaky.

“You struggle with intimacy.” She repeated. “It’s common in victims of sexual abuse and assault. And you’ve got over fifty years of that.”

Bucky grimaced at her blunt choice of words. “So..what?”

“So, we’ve got a lot to work on. You’ve got any relationships? Friends, partners?” Dr. Raynor asked. “What about the girl you’ve mentioned?”

“I have friends.” He grumbled.

“Good. What about your relationship with your girlfriend? Are you two intimate?”

He clenched his fists. “That doesn’t sound like a professional question. Do you ask all your clients about their sex lives?”

“Just answer the question, Mr. Barnes. Are you intimate with your girlfriend?”

“No.” The word rotted in his mouth. He felt an overwhelming sense of shame as he was positive that Raynor was disappointed for some reason.

She scribbled something down in her notebook and Bucky felt like he was going to throw up.

“Try and build up trust and intimacy through non-sexual means.” She suggested.

When he raised a brow, she continued. “Cuddling together. Sleeping next to each other. Take baths or showers together. Be naked around each other. Work up to that one slowly.”

He didn’t think it would help his weird sex problems.

“Ask for what you need. The world won’t end.”

Bucky just shook his head bitterly, looking away as he clenched his metal fist tighter.

“…Hey.” You whispered as you looked at him. He felt a smile creep onto his face.

“Hey.” He echoed.

“You’re watching me while I sleep, now?” You chuckled.

“Maybe.” He gently played with a strand of your hair.

“You alright?” Your voice was warm, sleepy. He felt a warmth bloom within his chest.

“Mhm.” He answered after a moment. “Y/n?” He asked gently after your eyes fluttered back shut.

“Hm?” You didn’t open your eyes.

“Can..can we cuddle?” He asked. To his surprise, the world didn’t end.

“What?” You blinked your eyes open. He felt a pit of shame form in his stomach.

“Never mind. It’s nothing, don’t worry about it.” He shook his head.

“No, no. What did you say?” You smiled encouragingly.

“…I asked if we could cuddle.” He muttered. He asked for what he needed. And the world didn’t end.

“Sure, hon. You want me to hold you? Or..” You offered.

He nodded. “I want you to hold me. Please.”

You lifted your arm, and he awkwardly shuffled over towards you, not quite sure what to do. “What..where do I—“

You chuckled a little, shifting slightly to lay on your back. “Just lay your head on my chest, if you’re comfortable.”

He nodded, doing so. He could hear your heartbeat. His right hand drifted to your stomach to gently play with the fabric of your shirt.

“This all right?” You asked gently as you rubbed circles into his back.

He nodded. “Yeah. Thank you.” He said earnestly.

“Anytime. Always.”

“Hey, honey?” He asked suddenly as he dried the last plate.

“Hm?” You turned off the sink and turned to look at him.

C’mon. Don’t back at now, he told himself. “Do you..do you want to take a shower together?”

He watched as your eyebrows raised. But the world didn’t end.

“Yeah. We can do that. You sure you want to? There’s never any rush.” You assured him. He knew you meant well, but he felt like you were treating him like he was glass.

“I’m sure, honey.” He exhaled. “I’m..not glass. You don’t need to walk on eggshells around me.”

“I know, baby. I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to make you feel like I was.”

“It’s okay. I’m—I’m not mad. I just wanted you to know that you don’t need to treat me differently.”

“Alright. No differences. Scout’s Honor.” You did the Girl Scout sign with your hand.

He chuckled, shaking his head.

“Let’s go shower.” You suggested, and he nodded as he followed you to the bathroom.

He watched as you turned on the shower, waiting for it to warm up as he grabbed two towels.

He watched as you pulled off your shirt. You were absolutely gorgeous, and he couldn’t help but stare.

You chuckled a little as you caught him, and he smirked slightly. He pulled off his own shirt, and that’s when things felt a little off. Not inherently bad, but…wrong.

He tried to push away the feeling as you stripped down to your underwear.

He fiddled with the button and zipper of his jeans. He barely noticed as his breathing began to become more intense.

“Buck?” Your voice snapped him from his thoughts.

“What?” His voice sounded strange to his own ears.

“You’re breathing all weird. You okay?”

“I..I can’t.” He shook his head, before rubbing at his eyes.

“Hey, it’s okay. No worries. Today’s not the day; no rush.”

He frowned deeply. “I’m sorry.” And he felt sorry. He felt like shit.

You reached for his hand. He let you take it.

“Don’t be sorry.” You rubbed his knuckles with your thumb.

He gave you a small, weak smile. “Okay.” He failed. It didn’t work out. He had to be at least somewhat broken.

But the world didn’t end then, either.

“I want to try again.” He told you a few weeks later.

“Try..what?” You raised a brow.

“Showering together.” He stated.

“Okay. Now?”

He nodded. “Now.”

“Okay. Let’s do it.” You agreed, and you both walked to the bathroom together.

This time, he pulled off his shirt and sweatpants with ease, standing there in his black boxers.

You pulled off all your clothes, checking the water to make sure it was warm.

Slowly, but surely, he slid his boxers down his legs and stepped out of them. He stood before you, completely naked, but he knew that you didn’t have a single thought of judgment in your mind.

“You wanna get in first?” You offered. He shook his head. Logically, he knew it didn’t really matter who got in first. But he figured that maybe a sense of being sure he was able to leave would help him if he needed it.

He watched as you stepped into the shower.

And then he did. And the world hadn’t ended.

He smiled at you as he stood so close to you. Close, but not touching. And it was perfect.

“We did it.” He grinned.

“We did.” You grinned up at him lovingly.

He’d done it. Even if it was only a step in a long process, he’d done it.

And the world didn’t end.

A/n: wanted to post this.

[dreamwritesimagines]

The Eye of the Hurricane [19] - Couples Therapy

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback, you made my day! ❤️I hope you’ll like this chapter as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think! ❤️

Summary: A therapy session can be enlightening.

Word Count: 2300

Pairing: MobBoss!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Violence, guns, crime, blood, explicit language, dysfunctional relationship. This is an AU, friendly reminder that I don’t condone any of the actions depicted on this story and please read with care.

Series Masterlist

It wasn’t like you thought taking Bucky to couple’s therapy for your technically fake marriage was going to be easy, but you didn’t think it would be this difficult.

Bucky bounced his leg beside you on the sofa while you both sat in the waiting room, his eyes darting around the room as if he expected someone to attack him at any moment.

“What happens if she asks me questions?” he asked you gruffly and you pulled your brows together.

“You’ll be fine.”

Bucky huffed out and turned to you.

“How about instead of doing this, I just pay you money to walk out of here?”

“Not gonna happen, Bucky.”

“I’ll put the weekend house under your name, you like it there.”

“The weekend house will be mine once we get a divorce anyway,” you reminded him. “It’s on the prenup.”

Bucky licked his lips. “Do you want another house?”

“Stop trying to bribe me,” you told him as he eyed the door to the therapist’s office before fixing the gun in his waistband and you gasped.

“Why did you bring a gun to the therapy?!” you hissed and he narrowed his eyes.

“We don’t know what expects us in there!” he whispered back, making your jaw drop.

“Do you seriously think—Bucky, look me in the eye and tell me you think our therapist is going to try to shoot us in couple’s therapy—”

“Mr. and Mrs. Barnes?” the therapist’s voice reached you as the door opened and you both turned to her before you smiled at her sweetly.

“Hi!”

“You can come in,” she said, stepping aside and you let out a breath, then stood up, holding Bucky by the arm to signal him to stand as well. Bucky heaved a sigh as if he was being tortured but followed you into the room dutifully and you both sat down on the couch, the therapist taking her seat soon after.

“Dr. Raynor,” you said and she smiled back at you.

“Mrs. Barnes.”

“Y/N is fine,” you said and motioned at Bucky. “And this is Bucky.”

Bucky gave her a curt nod quietly and you cleared your throat, shifting your weight.

“My therapist Dr. Cooper recommended you,” you told her. “She speaks very highly of you.”

“Dr. Cooper is a very respected colleague of mine,” she told you. “The feeling is mutual. So what brings you here?”

“Well, we’ve just got married,” you said. “And I’ve been in therapy since I was a child, basically. Bucky on the other hand has a more distant stance towards it so I figured it could help us both if we did it together.”

Dr. Raynor nodded and turned to Bucky.

“And what about you Bucky?” she asked. “What brings you here?”

Bucky raised his brows before pointing at you with his thumb. “She did.”

You crossed your arms, leaning back in the couch and Dr. Raynor hummed.

“You don’t think you should be here?”

“Honestly doc, I have no idea why I’m here,” he said. “I’m fine, our marriage is fine, so...”

“It hasn’t been a month since we got married,” you added. “Just putting it out there. But I think it’ll help Bucky if we build this—habit.”

She turned to Bucky. “And how about you?” she asked. “How do you feel about therapy, Bucky?”

“My dad would always say whatever your problems are, they should stay between your two ears instead of anyone else’s,” Bucky replied, bouncing his leg again. “Hate to agree with the guy, but he has a point.”

“George isn’t exactly the epitome of good mental health, Buck.”

Bucky shrugged his shoulders. “Either way.”

“Fathers may have different viewpoints especially when it comes to mental health,” Dr. Raynor said. “Given their generation.”

Bucky clicked his tongue. “Well, he and my mother have never been to therapy and they’re fine.”

“Your father had like one thousand mistresses,” you pointed out, making Dr. Raynor raise her brows and Bucky made a face.

“Allegedly.”

“It’s not allegedly, Becca literally told me she once—”

“Bucky, how would you describe your parents’ marriage?” she asked and Bucky heaved a sigh.

“They’re fine.”

“Would you say you look up to their marriage?” she asked. “Or that you want to have a similar one?”

You scoffed. “Good luck with that.”

“You wouldn’t want to have that?” she asked and you shook your head.

“Bucky can’t disrespect me like that.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

You pulled your brows together, then shrugged your shoulders.

“Both,” you said without looking at him. “We have a deal, so I believe he will hold up his end of the deal.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see the proud smile curling Bucky’s lips and Dr. Raynor nodded.

“Anything else you feel like you took after your father, besides your opinion on therapy?”

“Why are we talking about my father?” Bucky asked back while you tried to hold back the retort. “I thought this was couples therapy.”

“We can talk about anything you feel like we need to talk about,” Dr. Raynor said. “But most of the time, our parents’ relationship is the blueprint of our own relationships even if we don’t realize it.”

“That’s not what’s happening here,” Bucky said, motioning at you. “It’s different.”

“How?”

“What she said,” Bucky said curtly, nodding in your direction and you heaved a sigh. “He’s good with my mom, and he’s great with my sister, no need to talk about him.”

“But not with you?” Dr. Raynor asked and Bucky dragged his tongue over his teeth.

“He’s fine.”

“Bucky,” said and he shot you a look.

“What?”

“He’s fine with you? Really?”

“Y/N, not everyone needs a father, okay?” he insisted. “Some of us need a boss while growing up in this business.”

“I don’t think you needed a boss instead of a father when you were a kid, actually,” you insisted, making Dr. Raynor tilt her head.

“Would you mind explaining that?” she asked. “That boss comment?”

Bucky drummed his fingertips on his knee.

“It’s a part of…” he stopped himself and cleared his throat. “My father knew what I was capable of, so he pushed me until I saw it. Until I proved myself. That’s not a terrible thing, it worked out after all.”

You licked your lips.

“Really?” you asked. “So you’d be totally okay with following his footsteps?”

 That made him stop for a moment and he scoffed.

“Fine, I wouldn’t do the cage fight because that shit’s medieval but it was because he knew I could handle it,” he defended him. “He’s great with Becca, and I don’t need him to be good with me. We don’t have that kind of relationship.”

Your stomach did a painful flip. “I forgot about that.”

“Cage fight?” Dr. Raynor asked and you both turned to her, Bucky crossing his arms over his chest. You nibbled on your lip.

“Um,” you said. “Our fathers are... CEOs and we both have family companies. There’s this tradition that—the family company has a boss and an heir and when you’re the heir, you need to show that you can handle the job.”

She frowned slightly.

“And the job can get pretty physical,” you said as Bucky let out a bitter chuckle beside you. “And one of the requirements is…when an heir is picked after years of training and everything, once the boss decides it’s time for them to prove themselves, they put you in a cage with other um—” you thought for a moment. “Some professional fighters that happen to be in the business as well, working under the family. Bodyguards, if you will.”

Not bodyguards.

They would put the heir in a cage with the best fighters working for the boss.

“But usually the bosses ask the heir to prove themselves right before they pass the crown, so to speak,” you said and stole a look at him. “Not George though.”

“I was ready to prove myself.”

“At sixteen?” you asked him. “No one fucking asks that of the heir at sixteen, Buck. My father didn’t even put Ian through that yet.”

“I was already his heir, he wanted to make sure,” Bucky said. “I beat everyone up in that cage, didn’t I?”

“Your nose was broken,” you counted with your fingers. “Three of your ribs, you could barely see through one eye for like two weeks because of how swollen it was—”

“But I proved myself,” he pointed out, making you clench your jaw and Dr. Raynor sat up straighter, trying to shake off the shock. “I’m glad I did it, I’d do it again.”

“You see?” you asked. “And then he asks me why we need therapy.”

“I don’t need therapy,” Bucky shot back. “I don’t even know why I’m here, I'm perfectly fine.”

Dr. Raynor licked her lips, then grabbed the notebook by her side while Bucky pursed his lips, slipping a little on the couch.

“Great,” he said. “She has a notebook and everything. Charm, how soon can we leave?”

                                                   *

Well, no one had gotten shot during your first couples therapy session, so as far as you were concerned, it was a success. Bucky had to drop by his office for half an hour to check on something, and after that you figured you could go to lunch together to discuss the next step in your plan so you tagged along.

Becca was already there in his office when you two walked in and Bucky tilted his head.

“What are you doing here?”

“Mom sent me,” she told him before coming to kiss your cheek. “Hey!”

“Hi there,” you said, kissing her cheek back. “We’re going to grab lunch after this, do you want to come?”

“Sure, I could eat,” she said, flinging herself on the couch. “Steve is here too, by the way.”

Bucky frowned. “Did you two come together?”

“Nope, I ran into him by the entrance,” she said while you took your spot next to her and Bucky walked to his laptop to switch it on.

“Mom sent you?” Bucky asked and rolled his eyes. “Let me guess, dad asked her to?”

Becca raised her hands while you gritted your teeth at the mention of George.

“You can’t shoot the messenger, there’s truce now.”

“Then why does it feel like I’m going to get shot by the messenger?” Bucky asked back, making her grin.

“You know how mom is,” she reminded him. “She wants all of us to get along. I take it you’re not willing to have another dinner anytime soon?”

“Fuck no—”

“Hey,” Steve said, knocking on the door and waved at you before turning to Bucky. “You’re busy?”

“Not at all,” Bucky said. “Did we have a meeting today? Did I forget?”

“Nah, I was just around,” Steve said. “Figured I could give you the news myself. Clint is flying to Chicago.”

Bucky pulled his brows together. “What?”

Steve shot him a grin. “My reaction exactly,” he said and came to sit on the other sofa. “How was therapy?”

“Ask Y/N,” Bucky said, clicking on something on his laptop. “She was the one who dragged me there.”

You rolled your eyes at him. “He brought a gun to therapy.”

Becca’s eyes widened. “Did you shoot the therapist, Bucky?!”

“No!” Bucky exclaimed. “Jesus, you two have zero trust in me.”

“How was it, really?” Steve asked you and you shrugged your shoulders.

“He’ll find it easier in the following weeks.”

Bucky frowned at you.

“Following weeks?” he asked. “We’re going there again?”

“Bucky, therapy is not like getting vaccinated,” Becca pointed out. “You can’t just have one session and expect it to fix your shit.”

“I don’t have the time—”

“I already talked to your assistant for the next month, try me,” you said sweetly and Bucky let out a groan, then turned to Steve.

“What is it about Clint and Chicago?”

“Well, he seems to believe that he can convince Rhett.”

Becca’s head whipped up and she blinked a couple of times while you tried to keep a straight face, and subtly pressed your index finger on your lips, giving her a slight grin. She let out a breath, then turned to Steve while Bucky scoffed.

“Yeah, that’s impossible.”

“What’s that about Chicago?” Becca asked and Steve heaved a sigh.

“Chicago’s prince became the new king recently,” he explained. “I thought it was hard to talk to his father, I spoke way too soon.”

“Yeah, he’s a dickhead,” Bucky pointed out while you bit inside your cheek to keep your laughter in. Becca sat up straighter.

“Why?”

“He doesn’t trust anyone who’s not from Chicago,” Steve said. “Refuses to do business with anyone else.”

“But doesn’t he kind of have to do it?” Becca asked. “Even we do business with other cities.”

“Chicago is different, Bec,” Bucky said. “They have their own rules, and as of now, they don’t actually need other cities.”

“Word on the street they might have to do it soon though,” Steve said. “Every boss in New York is trying to convince him, but as Bucky said, he’s a dickhead so…”

“That’s pointless, I’m telling you,” Bucky said as he typed at his laptop, then slammed the lid shut. “Okay, I’m done. Lunch?”

“I have a meeting with Sam,” Steve said as he stood up from the couch and he and Bucky walked to the door while Becca clicked her tongue, turning to look at you with a huge grin on her face.

“So,” she said and you hummed.

“Yes?”

“I take it he doesn’t know?”

“Nope.”

“None of them do?”

You shook your head, still smiling and Becca let out a laugh, then threw her arm over your shoulder.

“Nice plan,” she said and you giggled.

“Thank you,” you said, wrapping an arm around her waist. “Let’s go, you know how hungry therapy makes me.”

Chapter 20

[vvxgs]

°˖✧˚ WARNINGS: angst. ˚✧˖°

Doctor Raynor closed her notebook and focused all of her attention on the man who couldn't tear his eyes away from his beloved.

Leclerc didn't want to participate in the weekly sessions, claiming they only exhausted him. They yielded no results. Time spent there could be easily used for long conversations with Y/N about their shared future.

Charles had fallen in love at first sight when he saw Y/N at the garage. She was so delicate, so beautiful, so sensitive. He couldn't imagine life without her. It would be like someone took away his oxygen. Without her smile, without her voice, without her, he would suffocate. He wanted to shield her from the world's evils. He needed to hold her tightly in his arms. He wanted to dance with her and promise that the dance floor belonged to them alone. He wanted to start a family, get married, forget about everything and everyone.

But to do that, Charles had to complete his therapy, and she was there to make sure he didn't miss his appointments.

"Do you still have nightmares, Charles?"

"No.", he said, averting his gaze from Y/N.

He had promised not to hurt her with his words. She had allowed herself to believe that superficial promise. Now she was suffering. How could he do this to her? Leclerc had broken his given word, but this time around, he wouldn't make it up to her. Never again.

"Oh, you're such a liar!"

"I'm not a liar, Y/N."

"You had a nightmare yesterday, Charles."

The therapist looked at Leclerc and tapped her fingers on the notebook's hardcover. She wanted him to confess the truth. She didn't want to force him, though.

"Fine, fine! I had a nightmare, but Y/N was there, and she calmed me down."

"How did she do that?", asked Dr. Raynor.

"She started talking about the wedding we recently attended. How much she liked it, how much better ours will be."

"I still remember that beautiful blue suit I told you to wear."

"You said it would match your dress."

"And it did!"

Charles laughed, but then he stopped suddenly. He looked at Y/N with tears in his eyes because he could swear he saw a red mark on her cheek for a moment. After all these days, he still remembered that moment.

Y/N saw his hand approaching her face. She saw everything and had time to dodge, but fear paralyzed her so much that she could only move her eyes. She even held her breath. At first, there was shock. She felt nothing. It was when she grabbed her cheek that she felt the pain. As if someone was pressing something hot into her cheek, simultaneously pricking her with a needle.

The man seemed to snap out of his frenzy. First, he looked at his right hand. Then he grabbed his hair as he fell to the floor. He shook himself, and she heard his sobs.

"I don't deserve forgiveness. I truly don't. Yet I want to hear you say that you forgive me."

"I forgave you, sweetheart. I did it a long time ago."

"But then I remind myself…", he said, looking sadly at his fiancée, who was still sitting beside him. He held her hand so tightly. He was afraid to let her go, to let her vanish. Even after all these years, he still couldn't break free from her perfect illusion that haunted him every minute, every hour, every day. "That you're just a shadow. You left, and I'm responsible for that."

He clenched the hand that held the engagement ring, pressing it where his heart used to be. He would gladly die for her. He would give up everything to be in her place. Tears dripped onto the carpet. Slowly, quietly. He cried like a child, repeating words he had said a million times to the tombstone under which his beloved was lying. 'I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.' How many times had he uttered those words into emptiness? A thousand? A million? It had become his motto, his life, of which little remained. Y/N took it all with her, his heart and soul, leaving behind a tortured mind and a broken body.

He could stare at his phone screen all day, pleading for someone to see the messages he sent to her number. Of course, it didn't matter how many tears he shed over the screen. Nothing was the same anymore, and it was slowly killing him.

"My girl is gone, and I'm slowly dying each day she's not around."

And so, in the room, there were only two people left - Charles and the therapist sitting in front of him.

[gingiesworld]

Family Is Forever

Chapter Six

Wanda Maximoff x GN! Reader

Warnings: Angst

Taglist: @fxckmiup @ginnsbaker @gb12d @angrywhisperslove @louxbloom @casquinhaa @natashamaximoff-69 @wizardofstories @canvascoloredin @wandanats-goodgirl @the-ox-fan20 @forthelesbians

18+ MINORS DNI

Tony was furious with Y/N, although Pepper was worried about them. So she approached their office to see Y/N on the phone, trying to fix what they had messed up.

"Y/N, we need to talk." Pepper told them as they looked at her sadly.

"I'm sorry about the meeting. I just." Y/N sighed. "I don't know what I am doing anymore." They whispered as they ran their hands through their hair. "I got this job here because I needed the job. Not because it was my dream but for my family."

"What was your dream?" Pepper asked them.

"Why are you being nice to me? You should be yelling. Telling me to clear out my stuff." They stated as Pepper just gave them a sad smile.

"I know you're going through a lot and even though Tony is more business driven than compassionate. I am the opposite." She told them. "Maybe take some time out and figure everything out. Also you need to look after yourself too because you have lost a lot of weight and you are exhausted."

"I have bills to pay." They told her. "Kids to provide for, I can't just take time off."

"What if we reduced the amount of work you have." She suggested. "Fewer meetings and reports, it gives you more time to see your therapist and heal."

"I don't need that." They told her. "I can't afford to take a drop in my salary."

"I never said you would lose any money." Pepper told them. "I just said that you will have a smaller work load, not less income. So as of Monday, you will be able to work from home. I will be sure to assign you the reports and meetings personally until I have a written report from Dr Raynor that you are ready to return fully."

"Thank you." They gave her a small smile, truly grateful for what she is doing for them.

"Go home and rest Y/N." She told them as they looked at her. "I have already spoke to Tony about all of this and he has no say. So go home and spend the weekend with your family."

"Ok." They nodded as she waited for them to gather their things. "I'll see you on Monday." With that they left the building, heading towards their and getting in the driver's seat. Their keys in their hand as they soon broke down.

Once they had calmed down, they made their way to the one place they knew would bring them comfort. But the sight they saw made their heart shatter. Wanda hugged a guy who they have never seen before, watching as he left before she noticed Y/N stood outside their car.

"Y/N." Wanda tried as she hurried towards them, trying to catch them before they got back in the car.

"I'm sorry to interrupt whatever that was but it doesn't matter now." They said as they started the car.

"It's not like that!" Wanda told them, hurrying around the front of the car and getting in the passenger seat.

"What are you doing?" They asked her, looking in her direction as she noticed how broken they looked.

"We are talking." She stated as they just laughed dryly.

"I don't want to hear about how you are moving on Wanda." With that they exited the car and started to walk away.

"Y/N!" Wanda followed them as they shrugged her off.

"It's ok Wanda." They looked at her, guilt in their eyes. "I never made you happy so you want to be with someone who will. Just know that I won't stand in the way of your happiness." With that they left her in the street, getting her phone out and inviting Nat over. Needing her best friend.

"Wanda." Nat groaned as Wanda told her everything that had happened. "You really are clueless."

"What?" She asked her, confusion etched onto her features.

"They came here for some form of comfort." She told her. "They lost their family when they were younger so you and your mutual friends were really all they had."

"I'm a dick." Wanda stated as Nat agreed. "But Simon is just a guy from the course. He was helping me understand something."

"Of course." Nat spoke sarcastically.

"It's true!" Wanda yelled. "I don't really want to be with anyone. I am still married and even after the divorce, I still don't think I will be able to move on."

"Which makes your decision completely pointless!" Nat told her.

"It is a joint decision." Wanda stated as Nat shook her head.

"It is your decision, Y/N is too in love with you to disagree." Nat told her. "So you need to talk with them. Maybe see a couple's therapist."

"I don't know." Wanda ran her hands over face.

"The two of you have been in love since college Wanda. Y/N Y/L/N is the one for you and you need to realise that this whole separation is stupid." Wanda was left thinking of Nat's words, all of them sinking deep as Y/N walked back to their apartment. Settling down on the sofa, looking at a blank screen of the TV. Their tie loose around their neck as their top button was undone.

A knock on the door made them sigh, looking towards the entrance as they slowly stood from the sofa and trudged towards the door. Sighing as they saw Wanda through the peep hole.

"What is it Wanda?" They asked as they let her inside.

"You wanted someone to talk to." Wanda stated. "And over the years it was always me who you confided in. Everything that bothered you, you came to me even if I never had a solution because you always told me that just getting it out of your mind helped."

"I'm fine." They stated as they headed towards their bedroom to get out of their suit, not expecting Wanda to follow them.

"Y/N, you aren't eating." She stated as she saw their now thin form. They were always lean but now they looked ill.

"Wanda! What are you doing in here!" They yelled as they scrambled to get a t shirt.

"I want to make sure you're ok and you clearly are not." Wanda stated as she gave them a saddened look. "I guess I never really thought about you during all of this. I am selfish."

"No you're not." They told her quickly. "You wanted more from our marriage and I never gave that to you. It's not selfish for wanting more intimacy or love. Or more of my time and I should have given it to you."

"No." Wanda whispered as she had tears in her eyes. "I just wanted you. I want you to be ok."

"I will be." They told her. "I just also have to get used to you seeing other people too I guess."

"I am not seeing Simon. He is a guy from the course and he had more of an understanding of the class the other day and he was just explaining it more for me. There is nothing more than that." Wanda told them as she left the room. "I don't think I will ever move on from you because no one will ever be good enough because you were it for me." Wanda just covered her mouth as Y/N stepped closer to her.

"Then what are we doing?" Y/N questioned as Wanda shook her head, raising her other hand.

"I can't." Wanda whispered. "I do love you. More than you will ever know but us." She gestured between the two. "It was hard, and I constantly wondered when we would have our time but you would barely touch me and I just." She sighed as she looked at them, tears escaping her eyes. "I had given up on the idea of the two of us being us again."

"You could have talked to me." They told her softly. "You could always talk to me because I will always be here for you. Maybe if you came to me we wouldn't be here." They sighed as they watched Wanda carefully. "I could have changed for you if I needed to. I could have been better. I could have done so much more if you had spoke to me."

"It's not all on you." She whispered as she watched them. "I was scared." She spoke shakily. "I was scared that you would think I'm being stupid and I didn't want to feel lesser than you."

"You aren't lesser than me. You never were." They reached out for her hand. "If anything, I was less than you for numerous reasons, especially of I made you feel like you couldn't come to me." Wanda let out a choked sob as Y/N wrapped their arms around her. "Maybe there is a chance for us, in some other time or universe." They kissed her head as she cried in their arms. The first time in weeks were they had felt whole again.

[whore-for-chris-evans]

I lack the wisdom required to write this fic, but I hope someone skilled enough takes the initiative to.

Have any of you ever thought about Steve Rogers waking up from the ice and not going back to fighting?

He wakes up, Fury tells him he needs him, and Steve makes a choice for himself and says no, at least for now. Fury respects that choice, Steve gets a therapist (a good one, not Dr. Christina Passive-Aggressive Raynor) and uses his second chance in life to do the things he actually wanted to. Art. History. Maybe he goes to college again.

On top of all this, he figures out the internet (come on, he's a smart man. He's not gonna be clueless forever) and you know golden boy Steve would jump at the chance of using social media for a good cause.

And I also think Steve would be great at debates. The fucker (affectionate) has a way with words. He's also a nerd. He's well informed and has quick thinking skills. He gets into online fights a lot. Tweets and retweets a hell lot.

Gets Tumblr. (Steve would love tumblr don't lie to me) Reblogs things like it's his last day on earth. (But somehow makes sure to utilise the tag feature perfectly so everything is organised).

Some dudebro makes a misogynistic comment and he's there to verbally drop kick Dudebro into the next week.

Somebody makes an offhand comment regarding something historical and Steve gets his trusty motorcycle and drives his star spangled fine ass to the library and the next day there's a video circulating the internet of him citing sources (down the page number, paragraph number and line number) to prove why the offhand comment was grossly incorrect.

Someone angrily reposts his tweet saying "THAT IS NOT THE AMERICA OF MY DREAMS TALKING" and Steve proceeds to respond with "I'm a person. I can't be a country. What I can try to be is a good human being." and then absolutely demolishes the other person. (Yes to Steve reclaiming himself as Steve Rogers and not Captain America)

He also posts art. Like, everyday. But it gets slightly overshadowed by everything else he does and says.

He has a separate Instagram. For more personal stuff. Pictures of himself? Rarely. Pictures of birds and animals and trees and sunrises and sunsets? Absolutely. Pictures of the cat and the dog he rescued and now is a proud dad to? Everyday. (He's definitely a both person.) Maybe someday he'll step out of his comfort zone and start going live. Everyone loves him. Everyone rational, that is.

He stays away from tiktok.

2014. Fury shows up at his apartment and gets shot. Something stirs in Steve's brain as the masked assassin catches his shield. Those eyes seem familiar. Despite his reservations, he jumps back into the fray. The whole CATWS thing happens.

He finds Bucky. Brings him home. Fights tooth and nail for the charges against him to be dropped. He's got 70 years of military back-pay, he's got no problem getting the best lawyers (Matt Murdock is definitely among them) for the love of his life.

Anyways Bucky is set free. Moves in with Steve. People start gushing over him too. He stays out of Steve's internet life at first, but then the old Bucky comes back little by little. Maybe he'll join the livestreams. Maybe he'll make an Instagram of his own to post more of Steve.

People, being people, start shipping them. The two of them have a good laugh over it.

One day, out of nowhere, Steve shows up on one of his livestreams wearing a wedding ring. Comments go crazy. Bucky joins him on the couch, throws an arm around his shoulder, flashing his own matching band, smirking lazily.

The rest is mayhem. But they don't care. For Steve, life is perfect.

[I'd love to see Steve Rogers vs internet troll he'd eat that up]

I hope the good Steve Rogers authors see this. This has potential I think.

[theobsessedbrunet]

Damn stupid

One- shot, Pairings: Bucky Barnes x You

  The rooms of the interrogation room were blank grey like the floor and the ceiling and the chairs and the table. Very boring and tiring room. You had actually never seen one, they were a little bit different from the movies and series. There was no mirror on the wall or a metal railing on the table where the suspect could be handcuffed to. Or maybe you got a normal waiting room, reserved for not so dangerous people.

  "I'm sorry I got you into this mess."

  Your turned to look at your partner in crime sitting next to you, looking anywhere else than you. You pressed your mouth together and slightly smiled. "If we're accurate, I got you into this mess."

  Bucky laughed slightly, the sound echoing in the empty room. He had a slight stubble lining his jawline and he had started growing his hair a bit longer again. Something he had not been planning to do, but once you commented how good he looked with that, he decided to do it. Of course, you had no idea he did that because of you. Honestly, you were so oblivious. He was head over heels for you, hence the situation you both were in now.

  You two had decided to go for a few drinks since the weekend was starting and the situation had escalated. A girl had tried to hit on Bucky but got rejected by him and she took it out on you. Bad mouthing about you in the bathroom to some randoms and at the counter. You had enough about that after you heard her talking to what you had counted to a seventh person. Some words were exchanged between you, then some pushing around and before you knew it you were in your first ever bar fight. Bucky only tried to keep you safe and pull you away from her but things got complicated when the other girl's boyfriend came to pick her up.

  Bucky finally got the courage to glance at you but quickly looked away when he saw the dried blood below one of your nostrils. He hated himself for letting you get hurt. Your safety was always his number one priority.

  You noticed his brows furrowing after he had glanced at you. Wanting to lighten up the mood, you laugh a bit and push his shoulder lightly. "You should see the other girl."

  He shook his head a smile forming on his lips. "I did."

  The door suddenly opened as Dr Raynor strutted inside and sat on a chair across from you two. You took notice of one folder in her hands as she sighed, glancing between you two. She was a strict woman let alone a therapist. 

  "You are a constant pain in my ass." She simply began, opening the folder. 

  "Will we be out of here soon?" You asked, careful not to poke the bear any more than necessary. 

  "You, yes. Him, no."

  You and Bucky looked at each other, not surprised how it went to that. Yes, Bucky had conditions in his case that demanded that he would not break the law or hurt anyone and he had been caught doing that. 

  "But it was not Bucky's fault. He didn't start it, I did." I leaned forward towards Dr Raynor who looked at me unphased. Bucky placed his leather covered hand on my knee and looked into my eyes a small smile playing on his lips. He knew it wouldn't help but he appreciated your efforts.

  A sigh escaped out of you as you slumped back into your chair. "Well, how long are you going to keep him here?"

  "You and your boyfriend got big plans for tonight?" Dr Raynor asked, eyes analyzing every movement. Bucky quickly pulled his hand back embarrassed and slightly annoyed with Dr Raynor. She definitely knew what she was doing.

  "He's- He's not my boyfriend." You breathed out. You were taken back by her ruthlessness. She either, in this five minutes figured out how you felt about or Bucky had said something to her in their therapy sessions. It couldn't have been the second option since you two were only friends, so simply said she was way too good at her job.

  "You better tell him that then." 

  You looked at Bucky confused. Eyebrows furrowed you tried to meet his blue eyes but he once again looked anywhere else than at you. 

  "Only love makes you that crazy-" Dr Raynor began, eyes traveling between your two frozen bodies. "And that damn stupid." 

  Soon enough you were let out.. Jacket wrapped around you, you sat down on one of the cushioned waiting chairs, determined to wait for Bucky's release. People walked in and out, chatter filling the place.

  Could it be that it was not at all about the girl bad mouthing about you but about Bucky getting hit on? Did you use that as an excuse to attack on that girl? No you were not that petty to actually attack a girl because she tried a guy you fancied. Right? He was good looking and his musky scent just pulls you into him and- and his presence just takes over any room he steps in. You couldn't blame her, you are just as attracted to him as she was. Definitely more.

  Few hours later Bucky appeared from the double doors a police officer quick on his heel. The officer stayed at the doors, eyes trailing Bucky as he spotted you sitting in the waiting room. Emotionless look on his face, he walked towards you with a stride. Your eyes traveled over his metal arm that was visible to everybody as he had his jacket in his hands. 

  As you stood up, you wanted to reach for him, ask about what they said or if he was in a lot of trouble. But before you could do that, Bucky collided into you. His hand quickly found your waist as the other one was placed on your cheek. He pulled you into him, overtaking your lips into his. He was demanding, and still so careful and sweet. Your lips moved in a slow rhythm, enjoying every second.

  It ended too fast as he pulled away from you. His blue eyes meeting yours as he anxiously waited for your reaction. After you had walked out of the room, Dr Raynor had given him a talking about how he should allow himself to experience life. You were a big part of this talking as she had seen how you had blushed at the mention of him being your boyfriend. 

  Your eyes gleamed as you gazed up at Bucky, smiles taking over both of your faces. You slid your hands down his arms into his hands, enjoying every touch of flesh and the cold metal. 

  "We need to come up with a better first kiss story." You laughed as you two turned towards the exit. You leaned against Bucky's shoulder as he smiled widely, glad that for once Dr Raynor gave a good advice.

[buckychristwrites]

Colors in the Dark | b.b. | Part Two

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Summary: It’s been years since it was revealed that Bucky has a soulmate. And while he doesn’t remember anything about them, he hopes to see them again one day.

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: Surprisingly fluff

A/N: Just a quick tale of reunion, since a few people were wondering if Bucky would ever meet his soulmate again. I’m not sure if anyone will read this but i wrote it in less than a day and had fun, so i hope someone does. Enjoy :)

Part One | Masterlist

“I had a soulmate once.”

The scratching of the pen on paper came to a halt. 

“Everyone has a soulmate,” she explained as-a-matter-of-factually. Bucky huffed.

“I know that,” he said, annoyed. “I mean, I met mine once.” Dr. Raynor laid her pen down on the pad on her desk, her attention now fully on Bucky.

“Back before the war?” She asked. He let out a humorless laugh as he shook his head.

“You would think. No, it was actually the same day I ran into Steve. As the…” He waved his hand. “Soldier.” He didn’t like saying the name. The Winter Soldier. It made him feel some type of way. He tried to brush off that feeling as he looked back at his therapist. “I have vague memories of it sometimes. Seeing in color.” Dr. Raynor’s eyebrows furrowed together.

“But you don’t see color now?”

He shook his head once again. “They wiped my memories.” A hard lump formed in his throat, and he tried to swallow it down. Despite the fact that Bucky could remember most things about himself now, and from his time as the Winter Soldier, the memories of his soulmate were never able to be recovered. He sometimes found himself wondering if there was something in the universe stopping him from being able to remember. Would the memories give him back the ability to see color? Would he need to meet you again? 

“Why haven’t you brought this up until now?” Dr. Raynor asked, a hint of suspicion in her tone.

“Probably the same reason I don’t bring up a lot of things,” Bucky said in a joking tone, and he did not elaborate further. Raynor rolled her eyes. 

“How does the idea of meeting them again make you feel?” She asked him. That was one thing Bucky never tried to consider. Sure, he pictured what it would be like, and sometimes he found himself watching people in the street and wondering to himself if any of those people could be the one. But he never wanted to consider the feelings behind it all. In reality, it brought him a great deal of fear, the idea of confronting this part of his past. It wasn’t like you were just a bystander to the chaos that was his time in HYDRA. He had hunted you. Fought you. Even tried to kill you. IN what world would anyone, even his predetermined soulmate, forgive him for that? Though there was a chance Steve had attempted to clear his name, you were never brought up in any of the time Steve and he had spent together since Bucky’s treatment in Wakanda. And now with Steve gone, he had no way of finding out the answer. 

“The answer to that should be obvious,” was all he said, mostly because he did not want to answer. Taking the hint, Raynor backed off, instead looking down at her watch. 

“That’s time,” she said, looking up at him with narrowed eyes. “But we will be picking this back up next week.” Bucky’s chair squealed against the hard floor as he pushed it backwards to stand up. 

“Don’t hold your breath.”

It was at this time that you were walking down the street, cradling your head with one hand while holding the strap of your bag with another. It was a migraine day for you, as most days were anymore, and while your body yearned for the dark bedroom back at your apartment, your morning agenda had other plans for you. Life had to go on, even if your new debilitation didn’t want it to. 

Your bag was heavy on your shoulders as you jogged across the street. Washington D.C. was as welcoming today as it always was, a chorus of horns greeting you as you made your way. It had become second nature to ignore them. 

The day was a mix of gray and blue, but every day was a mix of gray and something. The sidewalks were a parade of people making their way to a destination that was much more important than anyone else’s, except for the tourists who just couldn’t help but stop and get in the way.. As you made it to another crosswalk, you marked off another street closer to home. It was like you could taste the feeling of lying down after a long morning of engagements. Maybe a shower was in order, before ordering take out and settling in before the clock struck two. The idea of it sounded marvelous. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see the Avenger’s mural that was painted just weeks after half the population reappeared after 5 years. You felt a pang in your chest, as you always did when you saw it. You opened your eyes one moment to find that five years had passed, and the two closest friends you had, Natasha and Steve, were both gone. Although it had almost been a year since then, sometimes your heart felt the loss the same way it did the first time. 

The sight on the mural that always made you stop, no matter how many times you saw it, was the man with the long hair and metal arm. Every single time you walked by this mural, it always stopped you in your tracks.

You still remembered the aftermath of the fight, when Steve explained who the man in the mask was. The way your heart grieved over the idea it had for who and what your soulmate would be. Never in a million years did you imagine that you’d be paired with a one hundred year old master assassin. Someone who now had tried to kill you. Someone you may never even see again. The devastation hit you like a train, but it also made your heart break for the man. Despite it all, he was just a man, who wasn’t in his right mind. He had lost something too. 

And then, in an instant, the world changed again.

It was that same night that the colors you had just gained were ripped from your sight, replaced with a static of a mix of gray and vibrancy that you couldn’t escape. The pain in your head was indescribable and, unbeknownst to you at the time, damn near inescapable. One would assume that with your abilities, you’d be able to make the pain disappear in an instant, but nothing you did helped with the pain. 

It was a rare day that your head was pain free, but this moment, with you looking at the mural on the building near your apartment, you felt the migraine dissolve. It made you want to stand there all day. Just you and the idea of your soulmate. Was it funny? Or did you want to cry? It was hard to tell sometimes. 

Bucky’s boots clambered down the concrete steps as he left his therapist’s D.C. office. In town for the week on work, Bucky felt it necessary to make sure he saw her. The streets of the Capital made him uneasy anymore, considering how things went the last time he was in town.

Something about the conversation with Dr. Raynor made him feel more tense than usual. As he walked down the sidewalk, he had to keep reminding himself to un-clench his jaw, and even then, a moment later, his teeth would be pressed together once more. He attempted to distract himself by listing off the things he had to do that day. Grocery shop. Text Sam’s nephews to figure out how to Facetime. Facetime Sam’s nephews. Cook dinner. Clean out the catbox. 

A shoulder ramming into his own brought his stress right back, causing him to turn around. He did not come face to face with the culprit, but what he did find was much worse. 

He found himself just across the street from the Avengers mural. It was like he could feel the tension creeping up his body as he swallowed hard. He always made an effort to avoid the mural as much as possible. Despite how grateful he was to be included, all it did was remind him of what he had lost. Seeing his old friend in the painting made him choke up a little, and before he knew it, he found himself crossing the street to get a closer look. 

Your phone vibrated in your pocket, but you ignored it as you enjoyed the bliss. Nothing but a few words and a lot of punches were exchanged between you and him. Soulmates were destined, and everyone only had one. Sometimes it felt like a huge joke, to be paired with someone who was programmed to kill you upon your first meeting. And yet, you found yourself wondering often where he ended up after Wakanda. You never had a chance to find out. The time to reintroduce yourself just never seemed to come. And then Steve, the only connection you had to him, was gone. The easiest thing you could do was to move on. But some days, you still wondered. 

A cool breeze hit you, and you looked up just in time as a raindrop hit your cheek. 

“Fuck,” you grumbled as the single drop turned quickly into a down poor. If you hadn’t gotten distracted, you would’ve made it home before the rain. Annoyed, you immediately spun around and ran for the crosswalk. You noticed a moment too late that you didn’t bother looking before stepping into the street.

Before you knew it, a pair of arms wrapped around you and yanked you backwards, sending your head flying downward into your chest. It took a second for you to realize that you were being dragged away from the road, your feet forgetting how to do their only job. In a moment of haste, you shoved yourself out of the strangers firm grasp.

“I’m safe now, thanks!” You huffed, pretending you weren’t completely embarrassed by what just occurred. The bus that almost hit you was still blaring its horn, the driver flicking you off in the most unprofessional of ways. Raising a sheepish hand, you averted eye contact with your savior as you grabbed your bag, which had, at some point in the encounter, been thrown to the ground.

“You’re fucking welcome, I guess.”

Your eyes snapped up at the sound of the voice, your cheeks getting hot. When your eyes found the stranger, you only caught his profile as he turned to walk away. His hair was much shorter, and he was dressed differently this time, but it was him. You’d know him anywhere.

“Bucky?” 

The deja vu was enough in itself, but the way he reacted to the sound of his name made your heart pound in your throat. He froze as if someone hit the pause button on a remote control, and too many seconds passed by before he finally turned around, his eyes falling on yours.

When the world lit up around you, your lungs forgot how to breathe.

The TV static that had filled your vision for years was replaced with the vivid colors that you had experienced only once so long ago. Subconsciously, your hands covered your mouth as you looked around.

Bucky, on the other hand, couldn’t take his eyes off you. It was like the memory of you was on the tip of his tongue for years. Now that he was looking at you, he felt crazy for ever forgetting. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Finally, you looked back at him, seeming to remember that it wasn’t just the colors of the world that had returned to you. 

“I- I never got your name,” were the first words to tumble out of his mouth. You broke out in a smile before telling him. He couldn’t tell which made him happier, the smile on your face, or the sound of your voice. So happy, in fact, that he could feel his chest get heavy, and his eyes tear up, though he quickly blinked those away. He didn’t need to cause another awkward meeting with you. 

Little did Bucky know that you felt the same. Seeing him now, after all these years, knowing that he was not only alive but also healing, brought you so much joy that you couldn’t tell if you wanted to sob or yell out. And maybe kiss him, despite yourself. He was, after all, your soulmate.

“I’m sorry I tried to kill you,” he said sheepishly, his arm reaching behind his head to scratch his neck. There was something about his embarrassment that was so endearing to you.

“Well, you just saved my life,” you reminded him. “So I think we’re even now.” He smiled at the ground, a slight pink in his cheeks.

“Maybe I could buy you a coffee?” You offered. He looked back up, as if relieved by the invitation. 

“I’ll buy,” He countered. “I think you’ve done enough today.”

But for the both of you, the day, and your lives, had only just begun.

[brightlilith]

Blue Sea - 1

Mastelist - MCU Mastelist

Blue Sea - Masterlist

Request open Buy me a coffee

Next chapter →

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x retired spy!reader

Summary: Following the events of The Falcon and The Winter Soldier, Bucky Barnes is trying to adapt to a normal life, but is forced to join forces with a retired CIA spy to stop an old enemy seeking revenge. They certainly don't like each other, but they have incredible chemistry.

Warning: Violence, fighting, possible angst and fluff stress, post-traumatic stress, death, messy psychological, and more will be added later.

A/N: Who doesn't love an enemies to lovers? English isn't my first language, so I apologize for any grammatical and spelling errors. Constructive criticism and supportive messages are always welcome, it motivates me to keep writing. Let me know if something is wrong, my dm is always open. kisses💋

Like, comment, and/or reblog I would be very grateful 🩷

The beach stretches out before me, empty and serene. The sun sets on the horizon, painting the sky with shades of orange and red. The waves gently break on the shore, creating a soothing sound that seems to dance to the rhythm of the wind. Birds gracefully fly over the water, occasionally diving to catch fish. It is a place of tranquility and solitude.

With my eyes closed, I allow myself to get lost in my thoughts, trying to make sense of the things that trouble me. The waves and the wind whisper comforting words, as if trying to console me. I am completely absorbed in my own mind, trying to find answers to difficult questions that continue to torment me.

Suddenly, I am brought back to reality by a familiar voice. I open my eyes to find my therapist, Dr. Raynor, sitting across from me. We are in her office, where there are only two chairs and a simple table between us. The blue walls convey a sense of melancholy that makes me uncomfortable.

I feel pressured and exposed, even though I know the intention is the opposite. The room seems small compared to the vastness of the beach, and the atmosphere is stifling. The presence of my therapist makes me feel vulnerable, and the idea of sharing my deepest thoughts and emotions with her makes me uneasy.

As she starts talking, I try to make myself comfortable in the chair, but the feeling of discomfort persists. As she tries to encourage me to share, I feel like a caged bird, wanting to fly back to the deserted and lonely beach. The room is a contrast to my refuge on the beach, and I long for freedom and open space.

"Are you okay?" Her voice was calm.

"When am I okay?" I lift my head to look at her.

"I don't know, you tell me." She smiles gently.

"Never."

"Are you doing the exercises I mentioned?" she asks.

"No."

"Why not?"

"I don't need to." I sigh. "I'm fine on my own."

Dr. Raynor stares at me for a few seconds before jotting something down on her clipboard, it's not a good thing I would say, I just sigh and close my eyes trying to go back to the beach, but it didn't work. My phone started ringing, its annoying sound made me want to throw it away.

"You should answer that," she said without taking her eyes off the clipboard.

"I'm fine." I rested my head on the hand that was propped on the arm of the chair.

She looked at me with a quizzical look, sighed, and reached out for the phone.

"It's Sam." She said after I handed her the device.

"Good for him."

"You don't even have 10 contacts here." She scrolled through my phone.

"Maybe because some are dead and others are missing, what can I do?" I replied sarcastically.

"Why are you here, y/n? What is your purpose?

"I'm on probation, and I want to get rid of you." I smirked sardonically.

She looked at me in a way that I understood she would jot that down, but I just shrugged, it wasn't the first time. She handed me the phone back, and when I looked at it, I realized that I had not just one call from Samuel, but several... but the message he sent me caught my attention.

What the fuck.

© morganaah/brightlilith ─ all rights reserved. do not copy, translate or share my work on other platforms.

[avengersfantasies]

Series Summary: When you were little, your life was changed forever. Your parents were brutally murdered before you, and the doctors said it was a miracle that you survived. Now, almost 22 years later, you come across the man who took everything from you.

Chapter Summary: Your therapist thinks she knows the perfect person to help you move past your trauma.

What to expect: therapy, trauma, ptsd, angst?

taglist: @felicitylemon @lostinth3echo

Series masterlist: Here

You sat on the large couch across from the therapist that you were being forced to see. The silence filled the room as you stared off toward her direction, tuning out everything she was saying. 

“Sergeant,” her voice faded back in, causing you to blink and shake your head.

“Sorry, what?” you asked flatly. 

She scribbled down a note, and you rolled your eyes. “I asked if you have had any nightmares recently.”

6 Months Ago

“We have to go!” Corporal Jordanson called out through the sound of heavy explosions. 

You yelled back. “Not until we get what we came for!”

“Jordanson’s right!” Corporal Lansing backed his fellow soldier up. “We need to go before it’s too late.”

This was your first time leading a mission, and the last thing you wanted was to fail it. 

“Maybe you didn’t hear me, Lansing,” you hissed, determined to complete the job. “We aren’t going until we find it!”

Reluctantly, the group of four soldiers that you led followed your orders as you made your way into the collapsing structure. You were sure you’d be out before it was too late. All you would do is grab what you were sent for and evacuate. 

That was the plan, but plans don’t always go accordingly. 

Present Day

“Nope,” you lied with no emotion in your voice and exhausted from lack of sleep. “Nothing but sunshine and rainbows.”

“You know I can tell when you’re lying,” the doctor reminded you, not buying your claim for one second.

She scribbled down a few more notes. “You know…there’s someone I’d like you to meet,” she announced almost hesitantly. “You remind me of him. I think you two would relate to each other…understand one another.”

You rolled your eyes. “This should be good.”

“Come back here at 5,” the doctor said. “I’ll arrange to have the two of you meet.”

Once you were back at your apartment, you lazed around for the next few hours - making yourself lunch and watching television. 

You felt yourself beginning to zone out - the well-known thousand-yard stare encompassing you. Your mind knew that thinking about the trauma in your life would bring you pain, so whenever you were reminded of your parents or your time in the military, you often became detached from any emotions tied to them. 

It had become a self-preservation technique. 

Snapping you out of your daze was the alarm you set on your phone. The time read 4:30, so you had 30 minutes to get to your therapist’s office to meet whoever she wanted you to meet. The only reason you had agreed to it in the first place was because you were genuinely curious as to who else could possibly relate to your past. You pulled yourself off the sofa and headed out, walking the few blocks to the office. You arrived a few minutes early, but you went ahead and knocked on her office door anyway.

“Dr. Raynor?” you called out, opening the cracked door. “I’m –”

The sight in front of you had you stopping in your tracks. It was him. It was Bucky Barnes yet again.

“Come in,” she waved you over. You gently shut the door and walked over to where the two of them were sitting. Keeping your eyes on Bucky, you made sure to sit with a distance in between. “This is James Barnes,” she introduced him. “He was –”

“I know,” you interrupted, taking your eyes off Bucky and looking to Dr. Raynor with the same apathetic tone and emotionless eyes that had become your signature almost. “Who do you think is the face that haunts my nightmares?” Dr. Raynor looked down, and Bucky stayed silent. “Is this fun for you?” you snapped. “Were you this desperate to get me to show some sort of emotion that you dug this deep?”

“That’s not what this is abou–” she began to defend herself before being cut off by you.

“No,” you hissed, chuckling incredulously. “I don’t know what kind of game the two of you are playing, but I’m not interested.” 

Before Dr. Raynor could respond, you beelined it toward the door. 

“Wait, hang on,” Bucky called out, getting up and following you out and onto the street outside. “I didn’t know this was what she had planned!” You didn’t respond; instead, you shook your head and kept walking back toward your apartment. “Would you just listen for a second?!”

The entire walk back to your apartment was filled with Bucky calling out after you and you ignoring him completely. The sergeant was so determined to get you to believe and listen to him that he didn’t realize he had followed you all the way into your apartment. Finally, though, you stopped and turned to face him.

“What is so important that you had to follow me all the way into my apartment for?” you snapped. “Not done tryin’ to help Raynor stir up some emotions?”

“No,” Bucky exhaled, “I swear I had no idea that she was going to do that,” he explained. “She texted me and told me to come by at 5 because she had someone for me to meet that she thought I may be able to help.” 

Instead of arguing anymore, he pulled his phone out and showed you the text, letting you read over it. 

“You help me?” you scoffed. “Right.” 

You poured yourself a glass of whiskey, walked over to the couch, and sat down - sipping your glass of whiskey. Hesitantly, Bucky sat down beside you. 

“Look,” he began softly, watching as you started to let yourself zone out again and put the glass down on a small box that sat on the coffee table, “I did awful things to you…your family…and –”

“It wasn’t you,” you cut him off softly.

Bucky looked down and inhaled. “I don’t know what you’ve been through. I don’t know how you grew up. I don’t know what your life has been like. I don’t know what happened before you were discharged. I don’t know how, but I wanna do anything I can to help you.”

You let out a small chuckle, not being able to believe that this was the conversation you were having. Instead of answering, you reached for the glass again and took a sip. That’s when Bucky noticed it.

“What this?” he asked, reaching for the small box. 

“Purple heart,” you stated flatly.

“A purple…,” he trailed off, opening the box and looking at the medal. “And you’re using it as a coaster?”

You shrugged. “Don’t know what else to do with it.”

Bucky held the medal with care, awestruck at what you must have gone through during your time serving your country. 

“This is something to be treasured,” he said, concerned and confused as to why you were using it as a coaster.

“Not for me, it’s not,” you mumbled back, knowing full well that he heard you. Taking his silence as the opportunity to speak, you continued. “I was the only one that survived the mission I was leading,” you explained. “So, they gave me this little medal that only serves to make me remember every single goddamn day about how I was the one responsible for those four lives ending.”

Bucky looked down at the medal in his hand, stroking it gently. “It’s a reminder.”

[wandafiction]

Sisterly Advice - Just Us Chapter 16

Warnings: Mentions of Sex Toy, Fluff

Word Count: 2451

Series List | Chapter 15 | Chapter 17

================================

I'm currently in the elevator heading up to my penthouse going over everything that's happened these past few days, now don't get me wrong it has been amazing and it was like me and Wanda were in our own little bubble. But it's also a little scary, what I'm feeling, that is. I mean I know I like her, I like spending time with her, I like cooking her blueberry pancakes and I like when she just holds onto me. She is such a koala honestly. It just happened so quickly. We have known each other for four days and it's like I've known her for four years, it's just so easy to be around her, talk to her or even just cuddle with one another. This is a completely different feeling to any of my ex's, that's slightly cliché and an overused term I know. 'I've never felt this way with anyone else' ew. I never thought I would be someone to say those words, but here we are.

What do you guys think? Is this all going too quickly? Am I just kidding myself?

Ding, the elevator slides open and I see my sister standing there with a smug smile on her face and eyebrow quirked. 

"Who are you talking to?" Her eyes scan the elevator for another presence.

"No one. Just myself." I shrug off her suspicious look making my way into my home. 

I will talk to you guys later about this...whoever you are.

"You're talking to yourself again. Everything alright?" Carol jumps over the back of the couch getting herself comfortable before ushering me over to join her.

"Yeah just thinking about the past four days." 

"Yeah the four days you've been practically MIA with this mysterious woman who you met, oh that's right four days ago. So how's that going for you?" She leans her side against the back of the sofa so she can see me better, I copy her position.

"I'm feeling so many things and I don't know how to organise and register them." I huff out frustrated that I can't organise anything in my head at the moment.

"Well what would Dr Raynor do?" Carol asks gently, she shuffles slightly closer to me so she can take my hands in hers to stop me picking at my fingernails. 

"She would say to choose the one that is the loudest, and talk about why it might be the loudest." 

"So what's the loudest one right now?" As soon as she asks the question an emotion I've been feeling since I met Wanda jumps to the front of my mind, and I don't like the emotion one bit. 

"Terrified." I whisper out, ashamed that I'm feeling it in any way shape or form.

"Why?" I shrug my shoulders. "That's not an answer." My sister points out. 

"I don't know, I just feel this fear, like deep down inside that if I get close...that...if I let her in….all the way in...that…" I don't want to say it, because if I say it, it will make it real.

"You're afraid to lose again." I bow my head at my sister's observations, if she wasn't military she would make a fine therapist. 

"No Im fucking petrified." I feel my eyes become glassy with tears.

"Why?" Carol tilts her head in question.

"What are you my therapist now?" I scoff, but also hate the way I said it.

"No I'm not. I mean I could get Dr Raynor on the phone if you want. How long has it been since you last saw her?" 

"We have our once a month appointment. Speaking to her Thursday."

"Okay that's good. So can I stop asking the questions and give you some sisterly advice."

"Please do." Carol moves so she is right next to me, wrapping her arm around my back pulling me close so I can rest my head on top of hers.

"Take the leap." I move my head off of hers confusion showing on my face, I didn't expect her to be so blunt. "Take the leap, and let this woman catch you. Also I can't keep calling her a woman so what's her name?"

"Wanda." She repeats the name back to me once she has heard it, also giving an approving hum. "But what if she doesn't catch me."

"Then I will be here to fix all that is broken." 

"I'm scared."

"I know. But you don't know what will come of this if you don't take the initial jump. You need to take the jump."

"But how can I tell her about my shit, when I don't like talking about my shit." 

"Don't tell her straight away, but she will need to know because you know someone will bring it up and she will be there and lying leads to arguments." 

"I'm not lying."

"You're lying by omission." 

"I don't have to tell her straight away do I?"

"No you don't. You will know when the time is right. Just don't wait too long, okay."

"Okay." 

"Now enough talk about this. Can we go do something?" 

"Shopping?" Carol perks up at the suggestions.

"Yes! We can go to the mall, grab some lunch. I need new clothes anyway and a gift for the wifey for our anniversary. Oh and then we can go to that nice Italian place you like." I laugh at my sisters rambling.

"Sounds like a good plan to me."

"Can we take the G-wagon." 

"Well, duh! We are going shopping. We both know how much stuff you're going to end up getting, might need to hire a moving truck." She gently pushes me off her as she scoffs.

"Okay rude."

"But not a lie."

"No, not a lie." She grumbles as I get up from the couch to grab the keys to the car and my wallet.

Once we get in the elevator, Carol stands in the middle looking around suspiciously, eyeing up each of the walls before turning to me with squinted eyes.

"What?" I tilt my head at Carol's suspicious behaviour. 

"Did you and Wanda fuck in here?" When I tell you I choked, I fucking choked. 

"What! No, God no! Why would you say that?"

"Just making sure I could lean against the wall without the risk of it not being clean so to speak." 

"Okay me and steph only did it in here once. ONCE! and after your little meltdown about it, it's never happened again."

"Good, I guess. I mean I couldn't imagine what it was like when little ole Miss Cooper caught you two. She was just trying to get to the parking garage." 

"Oh don't worry, me and steph couldn't look the woman in the eye for months after. But after our break up, Miss Cooper said good riddance and we now laugh about the situation." 

"You talk very openly about steph?" 

"Why wouldn't I? It was good while it lasted. Just 6 months of fun." My sister now turns to me looking me straight in the eye.

"Yeah but it wasn't all fun and games, was it?"

"No but Dr Raynor has helped." 

"I was going to say, no happy reminiscing about that bitch please."

"Got it no reminiscing about the abusive ex." We both laugh at how serious I said it, but it's true if my sister doesn't want to talk about her then I won't. I guess my coping mechanism of laughing about everything is not to everyone's taste.

Ding. Me and Carol walk out of the elevator the whole elevator journey, we were just talking about everything and anything, just catching up on life. It has been way too long since I saw Carol last and to hear that my niece, and also God Child, questions where I have been breaks my heart. I need to plan a visit.

"So what are you getting the wife?" I ask Carol as we both climb in the car.

"Well it's our 5 year wedding anniversary, but also our 10 year of being official anniversary so its got to be something really fucking special." All the way to the mall Carol is rambling out ideas of what to get Maria, but always end up saying something like 'not good enough' or 'not worthy for my wife'. I can't even put in my input because she doesn't stop between each idea. I mean I have ideas for what she can do, but it's her wife not mine so I'm not much help to her at this point.

~~~~~

"My legs hurt!" I complain as Carol drags me into yet another shop, my arms loaded with bags that are not mine. "We have been at this for hours. I'm hungry" 

"This is the last shop I promise, then we can go to a coffee shop to grab a drink and a sandwich."

"Fiiiiine!" I was complaining so much, I didn't even realise what shop we walked into until Carol was holding an item in front of my face. A strap on. My sister was holding a fucking strap on in front of me. "What?"

"I said. What about this one?" 

"What about this one what? Why are you holding that thing so close to me." I swat it away as Carol huffs.

"As one of the anniversary gifts. Do you think Maria would appreciate it?" She drops her hand to her side now waiting for an answer.

"I feel kind of uncomfortable talking about my sisters sex life, with my sister."

"Oh get over yourself. Just tell me yes or no?"

"Have you used one before?" 

"Well yes, of course I have just not in a while, so I thought a new one might spice things up you know." She shrugs as she puts it back down on the display counter.

"Why not a double ended one?" 

"They do them?" Oh my god this conversation is going places I do not want it to go. I love my sister a lot but this is not a conversation I was ever expecting to have with her. Like ever.

"Well yeah. You know so you both get pleasure out of the experience."

"Talking from experience?"

"Okay. Nope I can't do this. I love you, but I am not going to be explaining my sex life to you."

"You used one on Wanda yet?" Carol laughs as I turn to walk out the shop.

"Right, that's it. Nope." But I mean truthfully the answer is no.

"I'm joking. I'm joking." Carol grabs my arm to spin me around. "Please, I don't know what half this shit does."

"Talk to the lady at the counter." 

"No, because it's embarrassing."

"This is embarrassing." I gesture between the two of us.

"I know. Please I will pay for lunch and dinner." I scowl slightly, but my face softens when I know I'm not going to win.

"Fine." I take a breath before walking back into the shop having a look around. 

Carol is following me like a lost puppy as I look over the shelves at what they have. Once I've done a quick scope, and have a few things in mind I turn to Carol.

"Have you ever used handcuffs?"

~~~~~

"Thank you for dinner." I look up to Carol from my food as I take another bite of my chicken parmesan.

"Of course. Tell me what's the loudest emotion now?" I swallow my food, before gently placing my fork on my plate to take a moment to figure it out.

"Relaxed." 

"Good. So tell me about Wanda." She gives me a smug smile as I roll my eyes at her.

"Really, we are being all sisterly now?"

"I know I wasn't always there, but I'm here now. So throw it at me and I can see what sort of sisterly advice I can give you.

"Alright. Also you know that's not your fault, you were literally on tour. You are in the air force, you go where they say you can't just decide to come home whenever you please." We both laugh, as she had definitely tried it once when she got the news two years ago.

"I know, I know. Now humour me, tell me about Wanda." She sits up more in her chair giving me her full attention as she slowly eats.

"What do you want to know?"

"How did you meet?"

"You know that."

"Right one night stand. Got it. What did she think of your penthouse?" 

"I don't really know, we were too busy for her to take it all in."

"Ew gross. Didn't need to know that."

"I literally just helped you buy new sex toys and stuff like 2 hours ago."

"Okay, yup, I see what you're saying now. We shall never talk of it again." I shake my head at her with a small smile on my face as I finish my meal. "But I do have one question."

"Oh god. Okay this one time. What is it?"

"Is she good in bed?" A sly smirk plays on my face and I shrug my shoulders. "Oh! So you're good in bed. Got it."

"Moving on please!" The waiter comes over, interrupting our conversation, thankfully, handing us over the dessert menus while taking away our empty plates. 

"Okay so you met Friday. What do you know about her?" Carold leans both her arms on the table, leaning her head on the back of her hands.

"Well. She is a divorced mum of two teenage boys."

"So she's a milf?"

"Oh yeah." I nod my head, just thinking about Wanda makes me happy.

"Oh look at you. You look like a love sick puppy." My eyes go wide as I hear the words leave her mouth.

"Woah. Hold up on the L word there. We are not there." 

"Whatever you say. You love sick puppy." Before I can hit her Carol catches my hand like it was the easiest thing in the word, oh right it is with her military training. "So how old is she?"

"33." I mumble, not prepared for my sisters reaction.

"33. Y/n she is the same age as me!" She doesn't look mad, at least not from what I can see. "I'm impressed."

My jaw drops. "How so?"

"Who knew a 22 year old multimillionaire could pull a hot mama." Carol wiggles her eyebrows at me as I groan. "She isn't after your money right?"

"I don't think so. She didn't seem to ask loads of questions or anything, she just accepted it, after getting over the initial shock."

"Well that's good."

"It is." Carol leans forward a bit more.

"So tell me more."

================================

[softevnstan]

³.⍭ 𝐈𝐭 𝐅𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐬 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐇𝐨𝐦𝐞 - PART II.

pairing. bucky barnes x gender netural!reader

summary. you couldn't believe the name that graced the file on your desk for your new patient. james 'bucky' barnes. you'd heard of him - even studied some of his history during college for psychology classes. never would you have imagined he'd be sent to your office, looking for help.

a.n. you guys responded really well for part one so i wanted to work on part two. no beta, we die like men. i have no fully formed plan with this so i apologize if i got anyone's hopes up. see part one here (make sure you read that first, otherwise, parts of this won't make sense). i also hate using 'y/n', but i don't know how not to, so i heavily recommend the 'InteractiveFics' chrome extension - it'll automatically correct 'Y/N' to the name of your choosing (and can replace other terms)

w.c. 3.6k

tags. depression mention, suicide mention, ptsd mention, therapy, recovering!bucky barnes, patient x therapist (as a whole for the series), not 100% accurate therapy - based on my own perspective and experiences.

‘What am I doing here?’ Bucky's mind played like a broken record, brain scouring for any reason to excuse himself from this appointment altogether.

Was it too late to slip out of the room? Surely not - the secretary was one of the four people (including himself) that sat in the same gray room, and she didn't seem to be paying too much mind hunched over her desk in a seek-and-find book.

The waiting room was dark - lacking any real windows in the area given it was part of a larger building that housed the offices. Bucky had taken the stairs up to the second floor after stepping into the building and searched the stretched hall for your office number and silver nameplate on the walls. Upon finally finding it, Bucky couldn't help but see it as a blessing and a curse. No more wandering aimlessly with the inkling of tension that'd begun to grow with the anxiety of someone approaching him to potentially redirect him. But it also meant he was now another excuse short for skipping this referral appointment entirely.

When stepping in, the atmosphere wasn't near as comforting as he'd been hoping. The space was dark and dimly lit by the glow of orange lamps; chairs sat neatly along the wall with a coffee table, scattered with magazines that had been flipped through countlessly since they'd been there. There was a rounded desk to the left of entering the room where an older woman sat, glasses sitting on the end of her nose and the signs of aging prevalent in her graying hair. Along the back wall, there are several doors; Individual offices, Bucky's brain supplied.

There were shelves of books and an overwhelming amount of fake plants in the room. The closest window that Bucky could scour out immediately was a narrow, rectangular one. Lone by itself given the layout of the office building not allowing for it. Hardly any natural light seeped into the room. If the actual offices with the therapists were as gloomy as this, Bucky would have better luck abandoning all hope right then and excusing himself. Save him another uncomfortable experience in the mental health field.

Working with Raynor wasn't exactly what Bucky needed as a first experience in therapy. Before the 70 years that he'd spent under HYDRA's thumb, there were no resources like this at home. Mental Health hardly existed as a concept - no awareness of the rippling effects of war or aid for the soldiers that would return traumatized and self-loathing. Hell, men beat their wives back then like property. That was even without the PSTD and fragile masculinity slammed on top.

Not his father, thank a god that Bucky isn't sure he even believes in anymore.

Christina was rough around the edges. A former officer in the military, one would think she may be perfect for the job in regard to Bucky's emotional baggage and the weight he carries. She wasn't. That was something Bucky only began to learn months later with Sam's help; That while Dr. Raynor was not a bad woman, she was not what Bucky had needed to begin opening up to people. The clipped energy that filled a room when sharing a space with Christina made it near impossible to relax fully; When Bucky was being a little difficult on his bad days (yes, he can admit he's difficult), instead of approaching him with patience, Raynor would combat his comments with her own condescending ones. It felt more like a weekly brawl where he had something to prove rather than a safe space to begin the healing process.

It was like ripping open a healing wound, wondering why it wouldn't improve, and being confused when it worsens under brutal treatment.

Dr. Raynor was not what Bucky needed, simply put.

But the one that woman did right with all certainty was to at least aid in redirecting Bucky to someone that can help him produce better results.

That's what landed him there. In the waiting room of your office with an appointment at 3:15 p.m.

Your praise was sung of being someone who was more approachable and positive, albeit not naively so. When Bucky was peering at reviews and your background check - comforting his own paranoia - he'd seen nothing but kind things said. How patient you were. How compassionate; How you make your patients feel heard and understood. How you provide the tools to create a proper support system and show people how to live again. Bucky tries not to get his hopes up for things, but he was certainly beginning to spark hope when he was able to look more into your reviews. It made him want to try again rather than give up.

But sitting in that dim-lit office, he's not sure how confident he is in that statement anymore. Bucky's left leg bounces in an anxious fidget. His shoulders are tight, arms folded over his chest in a closed-off stance while he sits back in one of the empty chairs of the waiting room. To anyone else, Bucky probably looks angry at the world - it's just him hiding his nerves. Never an intentional expression worn, it's simply become a default to wrinkle his forehead and wear a tired face.

Bucky could still leave. The heavy door that he'd pushed open to get in taunts him from where he sits.

And it's right as he's weighing out the consequences of bailing on this idea altogether that the sound of a door opening grabs his attention. Head turning in the direction of the noise, tired eyes squinting slightly for a brief moment when light pours into the room. A woman in roughly her thirties steps out of the first door lining the back wall, followed by you. Bucky is only certain of that fact because he recognizes your face from the LinkedIn profile you have.

"Thank you again for coming in, Greta, I'm looking forward to hearing about your daughter's Bat Mitzvah; tell her happy birthday for me." you tell the woman that's begun her leave.

"Of course, I hope your next session goes well," beams a woman, assumedly 'Greta'.

Bucky sucks his bottom lip in, worrying the skin between his teeth before sighing out through his nose. Attempting to take a steadying breath to appease his nerves when--

"Mr. Barnes?" your voice prompts.

Running away isn't a choice anymore. Not realistically.

So Bucky drops his arms and feels the taut muscles in his shoulders before trying to force them to settle. Rolling broad muscle under his leather coat before pressing off the armrests of the wooden chair with gloved hands to get up. His eyes remain averted from your face, but he crosses the room to you nevertheless.

"It's nice to meet you, James, if you'd please step in here with me," you hold the door open for Bucky; Allowing him to step into the relatively small space.

But it's not suffocating, he notices.

It's actually a stark contrast to the heavy waiting room he'd just been sitting in for the past 10 minutes or so. The light of day pours in from the tall, wide window on the back wall of the room. In the brief space where the window doesn't occupy the wall, there's a bookcase sat with countless psychology books. A soft-looking loveseat is pressed against the wall to Bucky's right, and across from that is a matching single chair with an end table. On the table sits a lamp, a box of tissues, and what appears to be a selection of colorful fidget toys. The walls are hogged by large framed photos; some of paintings, some of hyper-realistic photos or art. The floor is a deep gray-brown carpet, the walls painted a soft eggshell. Plants sit on the shelf in front of the window, drinking in the sun; He spots a Wandering Jew, two cactuses (both different breeds), and a succulent perched comfortably.

"Have a seat," your voice interrupts the way Bucky studies the room, and promptly he moves to the loveseat. Lowering himself into it, it's significantly more comfortable than the chair he was just sitting in. Still, Bucky sits stiffly. Uncomfortable; refraining from letting his back touch the couch and posture coming across as closed up without him even realizing it.

Like a mantra, belittling thoughts play on a broken loop through his head.

This isn't going to work. It's going to end badly. I'm going to be seen as a monster all the same. I'm a bad person, I don't deserve this. Other people deserve it more. I'm wasting everyone's time.

The thoughts spiral heavier and heavier for Bucky, even as you close the door; successfully sectioning him and you off from the rest of the world. His jaw sets as you move to sit across from him.

Bucky silently wishes the moment would end before it's even begun.

He wants to go back to his apartment, even if it makes him just as miserable.

“So, Mr. Barnes, from what I’m understanding, you'd like to make me your primary therapist and discontinue working with Doctor Raynor?”

Bucky wants to heal. You see it in him. The first step is admitting you have an issue; that there is something wrong. Not that Bucky is wrong, but his headspace surely is a defunct mess; The task ahead of you in untangling said mess is daunting, but Bucky is worthy of it. He deserves it. Even if he doesn't realize that yet.

He deserves to have someone who's willing to help him understand and put the pieces back together. Not simply throw their hands up the first time that Bucky struggles and leave him to fend for himself - this man was done far too much fending by himself.

It's clear by the silence followed by the words, 'That’s all I’ll ever ask of you', that Bucky isn't sure what to say. Rather than allowing the quiet to eat at him, you continue the conversation. Save him from the anxiety he might be feeling in being unable to muster a reply.

"So, Bucky - Can I call you 'Bucky'?" You ask, sure to keep a warm and approachable composure. Bucky's comfort is your priority; If he feels unwelcomed, he won't come back.

A stiff nod comes from the man across you. He still struggles to meet your gaze; Eventually, you'll both work on that, but for now, you don't mind. Let him take things at his own pace.

"So, Bucky," you reiterate, leaning back in your armchair and crossing your legs at the ankle. Your shoulders ease and you relax into your seat. "How about we start by getting to know you a little bit; Where you'd like to work first and what some of your immediate issues are, in your opinion."

Bucky's teeth clench - you can tell because his jaw flexes and it pulls on your heartstrings for a moment. His shoulders look so tight, his body so stiff. Chiseled features are hard, and his face doesn't seem nearly as full as you'd seen in museums and textbooks while growing up and learning American History. Dare you even say he almost looks sunken in, with dark rings around his eyes and sadness in gray hues.

You wonder how he sleeps at night - if he even does. If he eats the way he should. It's heartbreaking to see a man carved into such a husk.

"Raynor was working with me to make amends," Bucky starts, and surely that doesn't mean what you think it does-- "To make things right for what I did as the Winter Soldier, as a condition of my pardon."

"There's nothing to make right, Bucky." You answer almost immediately; your blood feeling hot for half a moment. You saw history unfold right before you, living in New York. Hearing the chaos of HYDRA overtaking SHIELD in 2014, that Boy Wonder 'Bucky Barnes' was still alive. Many things were kept from the public, as much as they could be, but one thing was for certain. Anyone with two brain cells to rub together could see that Bucky was another victim of HYDRA's. Not the catalyst for the carnage. An unwilling piece of the puzzle.

You have to stop yourself from becoming too expressive, though. Despite the quickness of your words, you maintain an evenness to them. "Now, I won't pretend to know what's happened with it all; That's something for us to talk about with time. But I can promise you right now, Bucky, that I am not Dr. Raynor. And while we can revise the conditions of your pardon, you won't be trying to fix mistakes you didn't make. We're here to help you."

Another break of silence, and Bucky has begun to fidget with his hands. Kneading them together in his lap; your own gaze flickering briefly to watch the leather rub on leather.

"I... I don't know what to say," Bucky speaks, his voice soft and timid. Unmatching the hardness of his face.

A small crease forms between his brows, eyes downcast but briefly lifting to peer at you.

"You don't have to know what to say right now," you gently tell him. "I know you may not agree with my perspective on things right now, but please hear me when I tell you that I'm not here to judge you. You're a survivor, Bucky."

A soft huff comes from him - lip curling into a crooked grin that's humorless. Bucky shakes his head right after, and the expression falls. You watch curiously.

"I'm sorry, it's... Everyone seems to either look at me like the pariah or like a victim." Bucky explains, and for a moment, your lips form a soft smile. You lean forward, shifting your position once more to lean in a little closer to Bucky's space without outright intruding on it.

"You're a survivor," you reiterate. Making sure he hears it. "And there is no shame in being a survivor - I'm a survivor and don't consider it derogatory, it's exactly what I am."

Bucky's brow knits up slightly and his attention is on you fully. Arguably the longest so far since he's been in this room with you. He looks as though he's searching for something and the answer is somehow embedded in you, and deep down, you want to give him whatever it is he's searching for.

You're a survivor, too. It's what made you good at your job. Being able to empathize to a degree with the individuals that come to you; To be able to share your own experiences and show the person sitting in front of you that they are not alone. People like to feel heard and understood. And sometimes the best way to for that is to sit with someone who's been through something similar.

Though you certainly didn't have experience as a prisoner of war who was genetically engineered...

His pink lips part as though he wants to speak, but whatever words were that die on Bucky's tongue when his mouth clamps shut and he finally averts his attention. You follow his gaze briefly to find him looking out the window parallel to him on his right. The light peeked in through the sheer curtains and lit the side of his face partially. You wonder if the sunlight makes him warm at all.

"Do you want me to draw the curtains for you, Bucky?" You offer, wondering if perhaps it's distracting to him.

Bucky shakes his head. "I'm not used to this." "Can you explain what 'this' is?" You ask, gently prompting him in hopes he keeps talking. "I, uhm..." His voice trails - clearly searching for the words. "You're... Calm. I don't entirely know how to explain it. We haven't been talking that long but I was, uh, intimidated to meet you. My precious therapy experiences haven't been the best..." It's the most he's said in a single sitting, you're impressed.

"And that's alright - sometimes not every therapist works out. Many people struggle to understand that therapy is not a 'one size fits all' matter. Sometimes we have to feel out situations and feel out people. If you decide at any point you're no longer comfortable speaking with me, I understand and will be more than happy to help you find another therapist that can specialize in your concerns." Always deliberate as to not call Bucky's situation 'problems' or 'what's wrong'. The last thing you'd want is for him to feel as though he is the root problem in his life. He's not.

"Thank you," the man murmurs softly, and you can tell it's another moment he's unsure what to say. Even the words feel as though it took quite a deal of effort to muster from Bucky. That's okay - sometimes people need to warm up. You're not surprised in the least that Bucky isn't an open book, you wouldn't be if you went through even half of what he did.

"...I'll tell you what," You begin, Bucky's attention drawing right back to you rather than the world outside the glass. "How about we start small, you and I, okay? We don't have to touch anything heavy yet, we can start simple."

"Simple?" Bucky echoes.

"Mhm," a confident nod from you, "I hope I don't sound rude at all, but I can tell you're someone who's carrying a whole lot more than they let on."

That earns a skeptical look from Bucky. You wonder in a brief moment where you potentially lost him when he answers that question for you:

"I'm sure you can." The response comes out almost irritated. No elaboration.

For a moment your mind scrambles, wondering, before it clicks. Still, you encourage Bucky to use his words. "What do you mean?"

A long sigh comes through his nose. "Oh, c'mon," he tries, but you simply look expectantly. Bucky needs to communicate, if they have no form of communication, they have nothing. "Y'know, everyone seems to know about me. Everything with HYDRA..." His expression is progressively hardening; He's lumping you with everyone else. You see it. Even if Bucky doesn't realize what he's doing, he's trying to build that wall again. Brick himself out and separate himself.

"No," You reply, "I only know what you want to share with me, Bucky. I didn't follow your story as it was happening - though I'd be lying if I said I was entirely clueless. Whatever I knew prior to meeting you today, though, doesn't matter. I want to know you. Not what everyone else's perception of you, is. Consider us strangers."

Then, as if to prove your point, you shift forward even more in your seat. Uncrossing your legs and sitting them flat on the floor as you offer your right hand out.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Bucky, I'm Dr. Y/N." Maybe the notion seems silly - and it is, honestly. You've both been talking this long.

Bucky is a little taken aback by the gesture; Blinking at you cluelessly for a moment before he huffs again. This time, his half-hearted grin doesn't look so bitter when he offers his right hand out tentatively. A ginger shake, as though he's scared he's going to break you, and the leather of his glove is warm against your palm.

While he doesn't verbally reciprocate the gesture, his expression speaks for him. A conversation without words.

It's clear that it's a bit more comforting to Bucky. For a brief moment he seemed as though he was ready to leave without coming back, but with quick thinking, you're relieved to have reeled him in once more.

"Anything about you outside of this room means nothing to me," you promise. "It's up to you how much you share. No one else."

Bucky's smile pulls just a tad bit wider, and you consider it a victory.

"We'll start simple," You repeat, pulling your hand from his to pick up the notepad on the table beside you. Flipping to a clean page and clicking your pen - you don't miss the way Bucky looks at you almost worriedly. As if you've picked up a weapon when in reality it's a pen and paper.

"I'd like you to find a nice journal that you like. One that you won't be afraid to write in, and one that you'll feel comfortable using. Next week when we see each other, I'd like you to bring it with you." You effortlessly speak while your pen scrawls away on the small lines sheet in front of you - your handwriting reads out on the paper, 'BRING A NOTEBOOK THAT YOU'RE COMFORTABLE WITH USING :)'

You tear the paper from the metal rings that bind it and pass it over to Bucky. He takes it wordlessly, looking at the piece of paper in his hands.

"That's it...?" Bucky ponders aloud. "That's it." Another gentle smile you wear. "Journaling is an extremely useful tool for going through our feelings and helping us take a step back and breathe. It can help us avoid dramatizing situations unintentionally, and it can help us develop a sense of mindfulness and gratitude. You don't need to write anything in it just yet, but if you'd like to decorate it, I won't stop you. Whatever makes you feel comfortable to begin writing in it."

"...Dr. Raynor didn't have me keep a journal," the soldier murmurs. "I'm not Dr. Raynor." you answer simply.

Your first session with Bucky seems to go well on all accounts. Sure there were a few brief tense moments, but you like to hope he'll return. At the end of the day, that's Bucky's decision. If he chooses to continue with you as his therapist, though, you want to help him in any way he can.

He doesn't know it yet, but you're determined. By the end of your time together, you want to have helped Bucky obtain a new perspective and help him live. Not simply survive.

After he leaves your office, you make sure to fill your schedule in for the same time next week.

[talesofadragon]

𝐉𝐢𝐠𝐬𝐚𝐰 𝐏𝐢𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐬

Synopsis: Bucky thought he was fine. He was a free man, had established a strong friendship with Sam, and was finally done with his mediocre therapy sessions with Dr. Raynor. But after an unexpected talk with Pepper and a guilt trip down memory lane, he realizes that he’s nowhere near where he wants to be. Having no other alternative to clear his overcrowded mind, Bucky decides to take Pepper’s word for it and seek professional help once more. But instead of wrinkles, thick glasses, and an obnoxious notebook that matches the old woman’s personality, he finds someone that’s nothing like he expected. Someone that might just be the cure to his shattered mind and maimed heart.  

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Therapist!Reader

Warnings: Angst | Fluff 

Word Count: 3.2K

𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐏𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐅𝐮𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 - 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏

···

GIF by falcvns

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐋 did I get myself into?

Bucky asked himself once more, having foolishly agreed to go through this. It had already been a good ten minutes or so since he sunk into one of Hudson Clinic’s surprisingly comfortable chairs as he impatiently waited for the secretary to call his name. 

The room was overcrowded, people coming in and coming out of the baby blue doors behind the secretary’s desk, but even though there was a lot of activity going on within the beige-colored room, Bucky had not moved an inch. He sat with his back against the chair and his hands clasped in front of him. An exhale left his lips as his mind tugged him back to the moment he found himself agreeing to this nonsense in the first place. 

TWO WEEKS AGO 

“I’m not sure about this,” Bucky whined again, stepping backward, just about ready to be anywhere but here. Sam rolled his eyes, albeit dramatically, adjusting his grip on the casserole in his hands. 

“Bucky,” he said, wincing at the distressed face Bucky pulled. “Look, I get why you’re so worried, but you need to man up and stop stressing out over nothing. It’s just a friendly dinner.”

“With the Starks.”

Sam scoffed. “Yeah, and Clint. And Bruce and Wanda. If Pepper didn’t want you here, she wouldn’t have bothered to extend you an invite. Now, I don’t know about you, but I’m starving. So, stop stalling and ring that damned bell already.”

Bucky let out a long exhale, his chest deflating and his eyes closing in the process. His blue eyes gazed at the bell and then at Sam, the man’s insistence reminding him of Steve back in the 1940s. Reluctantly, and after a good minute of planning his escape route, in case things go south, Bucky rang the bell, and the two men were quickly met with the friendly faces of Pepper and Morgan Stark. 

It came as a surprise when Bucky received a call from Pepper, who invited him over for dinner at the Starks’ lakehouse. At first, he declined without a second thought, but Pepper was adamant about not taking no for an answer. She quickly explained that she had also invited all the remaining Avengers, where this dinner would be a good opportunity to reconnect, especially after what happened recently.

After a stern talk from Sam and a chicken parmesan casserole from Sarah, the two men were ushered to the back of the lakehouse, where Wanda, Bruce, and Clint were all waiting for them. And as much as Bucky hated to admit it, it had actually been a lovely dinner and not as morbid or half as catastrophic as he thought. 

An hour or two later, after Pepper brought out the drinks, Bucky retreated to the edge of the lake. No one seemed to notice his absence. Everyone was busy chatting with Morgan or nursing their own drinks with clouded minds.

“Thank you for coming.” A gentle voice sounded behind Bucky, challenging his previous thoughts. His grip tightened around the glass, shoulders visibly tensing at the additional presence. “I know it’s harder on you than most, but I really appreciate it.”

Bucky nodded once, his gaze never leaving the lake. He opened his mouth, praying for his voice to come out as steady as possible. “I should be the one thanking you, Pepper. I’m sorry about everything.”

“I know.” 

Pepper smiled gently. Her feet moved, leading her to a wooden bench while her eyes roamed the area. She looked at Morgan, who happily chased Sam, then her eyess landed on the tent Tony had built and would often spend hours hiding away from the world with their daughter. 

“How… how are you two?” Bucky asked as Morgan’s excited giggles echoed across the area. His lips involuntarily twitched the louder they got, but his eyes remained laced with the melancholy that he never seemed able to shake off. 

“We’re okay.” Pepper took a sip from her drink, tracing the rim with her finger. “It was hard at first… really hard. Between Morgan missing her dad and my struggle to go on after all that happened. But then, it got better.”

“With time?”

“Oh no,” Pepper snorted at Bucky’s reaction. It was obvious how fed up he was with the notion that “time heals all wounds.” Much as she was.

He furrowed his brows, moving to the side to get a better look at the woman. “Then, how?”

Pepper glanced back at her daughter, the ocean blue in her eyes intensifying as she saw her happy. “I decided to seek some professional help. At first, it was supposed to be some impartial third-party advice to help me find my footing, but then it became an anchor, you know?” The look Bucky gave her told her he didn’t know. “My therapist helped me rationalize all that happened and find the pieces of happiness I sometimes overlooked. She’s the one who suggested all this, actually. She said it was good for me, and Morgan, to connect with a piece of Tony’s legacy and remember that there’s a bigger family than just the two of us.”

“She sounds better than Raynor–my old therapist,” Bucky clarified when he saw the look of confusion that crossed Pepper’s face. 

She hummed, taking another sip from her drink. “I used to have a lot of nightmares; Morgan did too. But ever since I started those therapy sessions, there’s been a sense of calm in my life. A sense of… meaning. I don’t feel so lost anymore.”

“That’s really great, Pepper.” Bucky smiled before gulping the last of his drink. “I’m glad you’re both okay.”

He was ready to withdraw to his apartment and end the conversation there. Yet, as soon as he took his first step back, Pepper’s words planted him in place. “Are you okay, Bucky?”

“I am,” he replied almost mechanically. The smile on his face could’ve fooled anyone, but it didn’t seem to have any effect on Pepper. She shook her head, and he swore he felt like a toddler getting caught by his mother at this moment. 

“You’re not looking me in the eyes, and you haven’t attempted to go anywhere near Morgan since you got here.”

Bucky gulped, his hands suddenly becoming sweaty. “I… that’s not true.”

Pepper raised her eyes to Bucky’s level. Instantly, his cerulean orbs darted away from her own, failing to prove her wrong. “All this guilt you’re harboring will not do you any good.”

“I’m fine, Pepper,” Bucky stated aloud, unsure who he was trying to convince. 

He thought that he had succeeded–that his words were bold enough to get Pepper off his case. But as the night went on, he noticed her stares and concerned glances. Then, it was Sam’s. For a moment, he wondered if the two had talked, but then he brushed it off. He studied Clint as he sat Morgan on his lap and started telling her stories about her father. Bucky’s eyes immediately fled before Morgan’s chocolate brown hues–which reminded him too much of Tony, Howard, and Maria’s–could find his cold ones. 

A single night at the Starks proved as disastrous as he had thought it would be. Those a couple of hours led to a series of nightmares ranging from his days as the Winter Soldier to the fight between Steve and Tony, which resulted in him losing his initial prosthetic . He saw the image of Tony as he snapped his fingers and saved the world before he took his last breath. He relived the moment Steve confessed that he’d be going back to the past to live the life that was stolen from his hands. Bucky relived every scar, battle, and war he suffered through, waking up with a start each day and fighting sleep each night. 

Eventually, and after a week and a half of this slow torture, he reluctantly picked up his phone and called Pepper. 

Hudson Clinics. Y/N Y/L/N. 

That’s all she said before Bucky called the place and booked an appointment.

PRESENT TIME

“Mr. Barnes,” the secretary finally called, catching his attention. The woman, who looked like she was in her forties, adjusted her glasses and pointed to the first door on her right. “Dr. Y/L/N is ready to see you now.”

Bucky politely nodded and leisurely strolled to the door. Stares and whispers followed behind him, but he didn’t spare them a second thought. After a knock, followed by a quiet “come in,” Bucky pushed the door open, his eyes greeted by the natural sun rays that peeked through the large window walls. He took a tentative step inside, feeling himself enveloped by the scent of sweet lavender and delicate sage. 

Bucky’s blue hues traveled across the room, unconsciously comparing it to Raynor’s old office. Unlike the white walls and the fake greenery, Dr. Y/L/N’s office held a sense of tranquility with its cream color and a vividness perfectly accentuated by the light blue and yellow furniture. It was vast and inviting with a medium-sized couch in front of a series of abstract paintings that seemed to come to life each time the sun peeked through the windows. 

On his right, Dr. Y/L/N was already rising to her feet, a genuine and heartwarming smile painted across her features. “It’s lovely to meet you, James,” she greeted, waiting for the man to cross the threshold. 

Between his anxiety and shock, since she clearly didn’t look as old as Rayor, it took a good couple of seconds for Bucky to let go of the metal handle and step closer to the doctor. He waited for her to extend her hand, but she remained still as though she was waiting for him to initiate contact. “Hi,” he breathed, reluctantly extending his right hand. Without hesitation, the doctor shook it with care, her smile unwavering. 

“I hope the wait wasn’t too long. Please, make yourself comfortable.”

Dr. Y/L/N gestured to the light blue couch while she grabbed herself a notebook and a pen. Bucky took a few steps forward, sinking into the soft surface. He exhaled loudly, leaning back–he made a mental note to ask about the couch’s brand and buy at least two for his apartment’s living room.  

Bucky opened his eyes and glanced at the doctor. Her smile was there, confident and honest. Her legs were folded on top of one another, her notebook now resting on the table. “Um.” Bucky cleared his throat, blinking. “I’m not sure how this is supposed to go.”

Dr. Y/L/N let out a small laugh, her Y/E/C filling with mirth. She raised her eyes to catch a glimpse of Bucky’s cerulean orbs, and immediately, a warmth filled Bucky’s chest. It hadn’t even been two minutes since he walked into her office, yet he had managed to find something akin to peace the moment he pushed the metal handle down to open the door. 

“It’s okay, James,” she assured him. “I know that this isn’t by any means easy, and you may not know where to begin or what to say. But this space right here is your safe space. Feel free to begin wherever you see fit, and I’ll help you make sense of your thoughts.”

Normally, Bucky would have scoffed. He would’ve raised an eyebrow and leaned back, giving her an unimpressed look. But there was something about her soothing tone and her unrestrained words that made the tension in his shoulders ease. 

“You probably already know who I am–”

“I don’t,” Dr. Y/L/N cut him immediately. Bucky was taken aback, a prominent scowl taking over his features. She saw him fiddle with his fingers, his mouth opening without any words coming out. “Unless you tell me your story, whatever I saw or heard does not matter much to me.”

Bucky audibly gasped, his tall and firm stance faltering for a second. He looked at the woman in front of him, his mind struggling to string along a sentence, let alone a word. With a quick shake of his head, and an unsteady inhale, he interlaced his hands and shifted slightly backward. “My name is James Buchanan Barnes,” he whispered shakily. Dr. Y/L/N offered him a reassuring nod, encouraging him to continue. “I was born in 1917 and am a former World War two veteran. During a mission, my unit and I were ambushed by a terrorist organization known as Hydra and were consequently abducted by them. During that period, and without our knowledge, they had injected us with the Super Soldier serum with the intent of increasing our physical strength and making us their personal assassins. After being freed by Steve, Captain America, in 1943, an unfortunate incident hindered our mission against Hydra. I found myself back in their clutches with a prosthetic arm and a mind that was anything but my own. They turned me into a ruthless, massacring, assassin by the name of the Winter Soldier.”

Throughout the entire monologue, Bucky kept his eyes focused on the glass table in front of him. His lashes met for the briefest moments before he dared to look at Dr. Y/L/N. Surprised etched itself on his features when he didn’t find her in her seat, her notebook open with fresh ink on one of the pages. 

He heard her hum, finding her pouring a glass of water. Her heels clicked against the parquet flooring before they fell silent when they met the furry carpet. She handed him the glass of water, her fingers high enough to not touch his. Bucky dipped his head in a silent thank you, sipping on the water just as she sat down. “James, you described the Winter Soldier as a ‘ruthless, massacring, assassin.' Are these your own words? Is that how you perceive this… side of yourself to be?”

“Yes,” James replied, his glass of water still wrapped around his fingers.

“Alright, and what about you, James? How would you describe yourself before this whole ordeal happened?”

Bucky thought the question over with the smallest hint of surprise. It had been decades ago since he was anything but the Winter Soldier. His brows knitted together, trying to go back to the days when he was Sargeant Barnes rather than the cold-blooded menace Hydra has created. When he finally got a peek at the past, he looked back at Dr. Y/L/N. “I was… outgoing, curious, brave, and spirited, I guess.”

“And now?”

“Damaged,” he looked away, trying to evade the doctor’s eyes. 

“Do you remember your time as the Winter Soldier?”

“Yes,” he said, his gloved fingers curling tighter around the glass in his hand. He took one large sip, Dr. Y/L/N writing another line in her notebook. “I frequently have nightmares where I relive everything. I see people’s begging eyes, hear their pained whimpers, and feel their dread as I creep closer to them before ending their life with my hands.”

“You used a first-person pronoun, James,” Dr. Y/L/N noted. Her voice didn’t sound accusatory in the slightest. It was more as if she had come to a conclusion and was sharing it. “Do you think you and the soldier are one?”

Bucky didn’t take a moment to reflect on her words. “Yes.”

She noted this down in her notebook. “What is the one word that best describes the Winter Soldier?”

“Monster.”

Bucky could hear the ticking of the clock and the scraping of Dr. Y/L/N’s pen. Once she wrote the word in her notebook, an action that was grounding rather than irritating, Bucky had deduced, she extended her hand to take the empty glass. With another candid smile, she stood up and walked to her desk, pouring Bucky another glass of water. 

“Oftentimes, James, monsters tend to be a subjective belief born out of a plethora of negative emotions, above them all, fear. This fear is as introspective as it is outrospective, leading us astray in our pursuit of finding our self-worth.”

“What are you insinuating, doc?” Bucky asked, his face a picture of confusion. Perhaps he had misjudged the woman, wasting his time in seeking help from someone that clearly didn't understand him as she should. 

“May I ask you a question?” She handed him the glass of water without sitting down. Bucky nodded with a raised brow. When he sipped his water, only then did she sink back into her chair. “You said that you relive everything through your nightmares, feeling people’s trepidation. But has the soldier ever felt anything at all during these occurrences?

He shook his head. “Nothing.”

“Nothing? No thrill? Guilt? Anything?

“Nothing,” Bucky confirmed once more. 

Dr. Y/L/N clicked her pen once before tucking it away with her notebook. She turned to Bucky with the same confidence and calm front she displayed when he first walked in, as if his story had not fazed her–impassive to the threat he considered himself to be. 

Bucky played with his zipper, looking between her and his left gloved hand. He could feel himself sweating, his left knee jerking in anticipation of whatever was about to come out of her mouth. With an awkward clear of his throat, Dr. Y/L/N reached out to the side table, pulling open the drawer to grab what 

appeared to be a small notebook.

“I’m going to give you an assignment.”

“What?” Bucky made a face. Was she for real? Does she think of herself as a school teacher? “I’m sorry, I think I misheard.”

Dr. Y/L/N chuckled, merriment lacing her voice. “You heard me correctly. I want you to talk to any of your friends and ask them about an event that made them see themselves in a different, more specifically, negative light.”

“Why would I do that?” he grunted, the shy amount of respect he had for the doctor hanging by a thread. 

“All in due time, James,” Dr. Y/L/N replied. She placed the notebook on the glass table separating her and Bucky before nudging it closer to him. “You can seek someone who has had a similar experience to you or someone who had a different one. During our next session, you and I will explore why this little exercise is a critical part of your therapy.”

Bucky’s tongue met the inside of his cheek. He reached forward, inspecting the leather-bound notebook in his hands. He flipped through the white, empty pages, eager to be filled. Bucky’s nose scrunched at the scent of the fresh paper, his gaze meeting the doctor’s. “And what’s this for?”

Dr. Y/L/N stood up, reaching for her own notebook. “Sometimes, our thoughts are more clear and less threatening when they are laid bare on paper.”

Bucky nodded his head, accepting the vague explanation. Since the notebook was small, he tucked it in his back pocket, standing up to take his leave. Once he reached the door, he hesitated. Turning his back, he spotted the doctor a few steps away from her desk. “What makes you think there’ll be another session?”

Dr. Y/L/N smirked, placing her hands on her desk and resting her weight against the wood. “Curiousness has no cure, James. Nothing in this world is strong enough to erase its trace.”

Bucky bit on his tongue, looking down at his shoes. He gave Dr. Y/L/N an imperceptible wave and then walked outside her office. He took a deep breath, trying to collect his thoughts. Between his mind telling him it was useless and his consciousness edging him to give it a try, Bucky just knew that Dr. Y/N Y/L/N was bracing him for the ride of a lifetime. But was he ready for her to rock his entire world?

------

It's official! I'm absolutely obsessed with Bucky Barnes!!

I'm so excited about this piece. I know I have like 5 series with a WIP status, but I couldn't help myself! I was inspired to write this fic, and nothing was going to stand in my way.

What do you think, witchlings?

Don't forget to send in your Marvel/Harry Potter requests!

Until next week xx

[raleighcarreras]

it's all so incredibly loud

Part 5: like Lucifer, I've fallen

Pairing: Wanda maximoff x black!fem!reader

Warnings: none really

Rating: M

Part(s): 1, 2, 3, 4

Wrd Cnt: 2k

Notes: a couple more chapters to go i think. Song is Satellite by Harry Styles.

"Spinning out, waiting for ya to pull me in. I can see you're lonely down there. Don't you know that I am right here?"

It had been 5 weeks since Wanda had started her therapy sessions twice a week. 5 weeks since things had sort of gone back to normal.

Or as normal as you supposed they could get.

She had slept over 4 more times within those 5 weeks. Late night talks with you and the boys, and you not wanting her to drive all the way back to her lonely apartment so late at night.

You had a feeling one of you was keeping her late on purpose but you couldn't figure out if it was you or her.

On multiple occasions, Wanda had looked like she wanted to say something to you. Especially, after that first therapy appointment, but she never did. And you sure as hell weren't going to ask.

There were times where the two of you would get into arguments over trivial things. You couldn't really help it. Her sudden change had triggered a corresponding change of some sort in you.

Resentment? Jealousy? Fear? You weren't really sure.

You tried to hide the not so good days from the boys, but they were the children of a spy and a witch. They were intuitive as all hell. And sneaky to boot.

You could only hope they weren't internalizing whatever they heard. They would never tell you after it was over.

You could only hope.

Wanda sat down on the all too familiar couch. She finally felt different. She felt okay. Not like she was going to slip underneath the metaphorical waves at any second.

She didn't feel the need to be powerful or all-knowing or perpetually ready for anything and everything. She felt like she could relax. Like she could share her burden. Like there wasn't much of a burden in the first place.

"I think I'm ready to tell her."

Dr. Raynor hummed in interest, "Tell who what?"

By now Wanda knew she should have seen that coming, "I'm ready to tell Y/N why I cheated on her and why I was so scared."

The therapist nodded, "Good. Do you know why you're ready?"

Wanda paused, she did know why. She just wasn't aware of the best way to say it.

"I'm ready because I know she won't see me as weak when I tell her, because I'm not weak. And even if I was that would be okay. I'm not telling her because I want her back. I'm telling her because I love her and she deserves to know. Because she's my life partner and we're in this together." She's sort of surprised herself with getting all of that out as eloquently as she did.

Dr. Raynor looked surprised to. Wanda wondered if she should have taken offense to that.

"That's wonderful, Wanda. And you're absolutely right, even if she doesn't want to get back together you're still a team when it comes to your kids. She deserves to know exactly what you're feeling or what you felt."

Wanda's eyes watered without her permission, "I'm not just doing all of this for her sake, I promise, but God, the thought of her not being by my side for the rest of our lives kills me."

"I understand. But you knew coming into this that it's a very real possibility. To be quite frank, when you started these sessions I don't even think you actually thought it was an option." Dr. Raynor placed a comforting hand on Wanda's knee.

"I didn't. I still don't know if I do. But, I'm going to try anyway. My body won't let me not." Wanda wiped at her eyes harshly. Slightly embarrassed even though she pretty much sob Dr. Raynor out of house and home every other session.

Dr. Raynor eyed Wanda with an apathetic smile, "You really love her, don't you?"

"With everything in me. I love everything about her. Her passion. Her strength. She's such an amazing mother. She's so good with the kids and I have no idea why that's so hot. Speaking of hot, she's so beautiful. And fuck. The kids...Alexis looks just like her. I'm going to have to beat them off of her with a stick when she's older... I've put that woman through so much. I respect her so much. She's amazing. I'm going to have to beg on my knees, aren't I?" It was a rhetorical question but Dr. Raynor answered anyway.

"Make sure you kneel on gravel so she knows you mean it!"

Wanda didn't know if that was a joke or not, "We still argue like an old married couple, but I'm taking it as a good sign. Thank you, Dr. Raynor. For everything."

Dr. Raynor smiled, "You're welcome, Wanda. Though, you did most of the work. I was just here to look at you funny. Congratulations on graduating to semi-monthly sessions."

"Thank you." Wanda stood and gathered her things.

"Oh, and Wanda?"

"Yes?"

"Don't ask Bucky about it, but I do couple's therapy too."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"Guess who graduated therapy?!" Wanda exclaimed excitedly into her phone.

Pietro hummed in faux thought, "Sam?"

"No, brother. I did! Well, I didn't really graduate. I just don't need to go as often. I'm very well adjusted now."

"How'd you manage that? I thought you would be labeled insane and we would get you those cool grippy socks." Pietro said laughing to himself.

"Thank you, for the vote of confidence, Piet." Wanda deadpanned.

"Ahh, you're welcome, Utenok! Do you want to come over and play-"

There was a beeping coming from the phone indicating another call.

"-hold on, Piet. Y/N's calling."

"Fine. The ex-wife is more important I see how it is."

Wanda rolled her eyes at her brother's dramatics. She switched over to the other call quickly, "Hey, Y/N! I was just on my way to talk to you actual-"

"Wanda. I-the boys-I can't find them. They left a note and fuck I don't know where they went and you know Tommy...they could be so far by now-"

"Y/N. It's okay, I'm five minutes away. I'll be there in two." Wanda hurried to her car, throwing the door open and starting the ignition with her free hand.

"I don't-ugh I knew they heard us-this is all my fault I...they had been quiet too long-"

"Y/N. It's okay. It not your fault. They're 11 year old boys. They haven't quite figured out nuance yet."

You took a deep, shaky breath. Trying your best to calm down, "Yeah...okay."

"Is Alexis alright?"

You nodded like Wanda could see you, "Yes-she's in her crib sleeping."

"Okay, good. I'm pulling up now."

Wanda had a feeling you nodded again.

She connected back to Pietro, surprised to see he was still on the other line, "Pietro, the boys are missing-I guess they got upset and ran away. She think's it's her fault-"

"I'm already looking for them, Wanda. We'll find them."

"Thank you, Piet."

She hung her phone then hurried into her former house.

You were pacing a whole in the ground with your phone to your ear, "Yes, they're like 4'9. Blonde. Tommy should have been wearing a red shirt, and Billy's shirt is blue. They're both in dark jeans and their black converse are gone....Yes...Okay...Thank you."

You ended the call and threw your phone onto the couch. You wanted to pull your hair out.

"Nat and Monica are looking. Just got off the phone with the police department, they said they'll search but I kind of don't believe them. I'd go look myself but what if they get scared and come back and no one is here for them to come back to." Your breathing quickened suddenly.

Wanda's eyes widened, "Hey, Y/N. Breathe. We'll find them. They couldn't have gotten far. Tommy gets tired after like 30 feet. Pietro will be able to get anywhere he does quicker."

You shook your head, still fighting off a panic attack. You handed Wanda the note you found in their room when you went to collect them for their dinner.

Dear Mom and Mama,

We know you've been fighting because of us. We know this because you only fight when you think we can't hear you. We think it would be in everyone's best intrest if we left. So, you can be happy together again. Alexis won't even remember us, probably so she'll be fine.

P.S. dont look for us because we hid very well

P.P.S. we even took some snacks so you don't have to worry about us not having dinner!

"I'm a horrible mother. I'm terrible. I let my kids think I'd be better off without. Fuck." You're breathing quickened again.

Wanda grabbed your shoulders, "Y/N. Look at me. You're not a bad mother. The boys are just confused. They don't know what they're talking about."

Your eyes welled up with tears, "Wanda. They left. They-they left."

Wanda pulled you into a hug, not knowing what else to do. You sobbed into her shoulder, her hand trying to soothe you by rubbing your back. But, it seemed a damn had broken from months of pent up anguish and you couldn't stop.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Y/N. If anything this is my fault."

You shook your head, and sniffled, "No. It's not. You've been doing everything you're supposed to. I just really like arguing with you sometimes. You're hot when you're mad."

Wanda chuckled, "I knew something was up."

You pulled away from her. Embarrassed in more ways than one, "Sorry, I snotted all over your jacket. I-fuck-I just feel so helpless."

"I know the feeling."

A sudden gust of wind blew your curtains askew. Pietro knew how much you hated that, but you supposed he had a good excuse this time.

Pietro stood in the doorway, empty handed, "I looked everywhere I could think they might be."

A few minutes later, Natasha and Monica arrived with the same news.

You bit your lip harshly before looking at Wanda intently, "Wanda?"

"Yes?"

"You're going to hate this but you need to use your powers."

Wanda immediately started shaking her head in protest, "I said I wouldn't. I don't even know how I'd go about that. Maybe they left something in their room-"

"Wanda. Please."

Wanda took a deep breath, "Okay."

She hadn't use them in so long, she sure hoped it was like riding a bike.

She also wasn't quite sure how to use them to find the boys. If she had, she wouldn't have been in this whole mess in the first place.

Though, like everything, the first step was to relax. And she couldn't do that with everyone staring her down so intensely.

"Could you guys turn away, I'm getting stage fright."

"Really?" You said dryly.

"Well, you can look all you want."

"Wanda. Find my damn kids."

Wanda took a deep breath and let whatever power was in her creep to the surface. She wasn't sure how she did it, maybe it was the fact that you were staring at her so intensely she felt like she was going to burst into flames if she didn't find them, but she opened her eyes. The red wisps slowly fading away, and she looked at you with a confused frown.

"They're at my apartment?"

Pietro's brows furrowed, "How did we miss that?"

He looked like was about to run off to collect them, but Wanda placed a hand on his arm, stopping him.

"It's probably better that we go."

"Oh. Do you want me to take you?"

You shook your head, "Hell no. I threw up the last time. We'll take a car. Like a normal person."

"Nothing's normal about a single person in this room, but okay. We'll stay here and watch the little one."

"Thank you. Monica is in charge."

Natasha and Pietro shouted in protest, but you and Wanda were already half way to the car.

"What do we say to them?" You asked hesitantly.

"That we're sorry we made them feel that way. And that we loved them?"

You looked at the side of Wanda's face with a new found light, "When did you get so insightful?"

Wanda shrugged, "Therapy changes you."

You bit your lip to stifle your laugh, "Not too much I hope."

"Not too much."

When you arrived at Wanda's apartment, it took you a few minutes to realize you had never been inside of it.

It felt odd and surreal at the same time. Like you were somewhere you weren't supposed to be. Invading her space.

It was...cozy?

You didn't really know what to think of it. The place seemed nice enough, but you're house was nicer. Your house was a home. This wasn't.

"The boys are in their room." Wanda lead you to said room where sure enough, the twins were sitting on the ground. Playing with some leftover Legos.

You cleared your throat. They jumped.

"Oh! Hi mom. Mama. You weren't supposed to find us." Billy said.

"I live here." Wanda pointed out.

"We know. But we figured once we were gone you could just sleep back home."

Wanda shook her head, "That's not how that works. I'd never be able to sleep knowing you weren't home safe."

Tommy and Billy frowned, toeing at the ground, "We thought you'd stop fighting if we weren't around."

"Boys, we love you. We don't fight because of you. We fight for stupid grownup reasons that we need to sort through on our own. We're so sorry we made you feel like it was your fault. Is that understood?" You asked.

They both nodded. You pulled them into a hug. Finally relaxing.

"And if you ever feel even something remotely close to this ever again, please talk to us instead of running away. You almost gave your mom a heart attack." Wanda chastised.

"Does this mean you're getting back together because you worked together to find us?" Tommy asked excitedly.

"Huh?" You blinked in astonishment.

Wanda blushed a bright red, "Uh...that's enough excitement for today. Don't you think, Boys? Let's get you back home to your sister!"

The car ride back was quiet. If only because Wanda was still blushing and the twins were knocked out from their evening of adventure.

After dismissing your friends, sending Pietro to the guestroom, and putting the boys to bed you let out a long festering sigh, "Fuck. I could use a drink. You want one?"

Wanda shook her head in negative, "Gotta drive back soon."

"Oh. I just sort of assumed you'd stay the night. I'm sorry for assuming. I-um- you're welcome to stay if you want." You shrugged in an attempt to feign indifference.

"I-sure-Pietro's a blanket hog but I'll deal."

You nodded, "Or you can sleep with me."

Wanda's eyes widened.

"I mean not like that! You can sleep in the same bed as me! I-um-I don't hog the blankets or anything." Your heart was practically beating out of your chest.

"Yes, you do. But, are you sure? I've shared a bed with Pietro millions of times. I shared a womb with him actually. He hogged that too by the way."

"Yes. I'm sure. I'm still on edge and I need the comfort. It's embarrassing but you still calm me down." You were now avoiding eye contact at all costs.

Wanda didn't bother to hide her smile, "Nothing, to be embarrassed about. You do the same for me."

"Good. I mean...cool." Wanda followed you to your room. Drink long forgotten.

"You can stay on that side, I guess. And I'll stay over here."

"Y/N?"

"Yeah?"

"Calm down. It doesn't have to mean anything." Wanda began to get ready for bed.

You followed suit, sort of made that you were the one fumbling and it wasn't her, "Yeah. You're right."

You both got into the King's sized bed. Making it easy to keep your distance.

"Goodnight, Blondie."

"Goodnight, Y/N."

"..."

"..."

"Wanda?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

[sidleyparkhermit]

@stellerssong I think I should do these separately since the first one is already getting long and is basically just complaining. XD

8. Is there a story idea in your mental vault that you’ve never been brave enough to try writing? Is this the year? Can you tell us about it?

Hmm. In terms of fanfic and not origfic — the only story ideas I can think of that I would say I didn’t feel “brave” enough to write are certain MCU plotbunnies that I found personally compelling but that would have no audience and cause me to get lots of hate messages from MCU Leftists.

I’m thinking specifically of two that sprang from my mind trying to somehow approach the very conspicuous and poisonously incoherent politics of TFATWS, and three years down the line I can still remember a quick plot capsule for both.

(Even the summaries are probably incomprehensible, as the Venn diagram of people who have some fucking idea how a government on planet Earth actually in any way works and people who watched The Falcon and the Winter Soldier all the way to the end is maybe just me. But, you know. The action sequences were super good and I really wanted to see if Bucky was gonna be okay. [Spoiler: Bucky is okay.])

Bucky’s long-suffering therapist Dr. Raynor, who is also a military veteran, slowly unravels the truth behind the character that is, I swear to god, named “Government Official” and appears to be a U.S. senator, a representative to the Fake UN That Is Also The One-World Fascist Government, the head of the CIA, the head of the Smithsonian Institution, and who knows what else. (He's also the guy that Sam Wilson literally says the sentence "You control the banks" to while lecturing him not to refer to the people trying to kill all the civilians at the UN as "terrorists.") Anyway, my explanation for him is that during The Snap, a faction of Hydra used the mass breakdown in communications to establish little pockets of shadow-government, aided by specialists like Government Official who have a mild level of genetic mind-control powers that helps induce people to accept “ah yes, that is a Government Official” and just kinda do what they say. Post-Blip, they continue to be treated like they have the authority that they usurped, even though it makes no sense; as Robert Anton Wilson said, reality is what you can get away with. But with a tip-off from Bucky in his goodbye card, Dr. Raynor begins to see through the fog...

John Walker, in his final confrontation with Flag-Smasher, gets ahold of himself enough to really listen to what she is saying for a moment, and then starts asking her to explain what the fuck she is actually talking about, seeing as she seems to think, among other things, that the Not-UN vaccine distribution program that she’s been bombing is run by “the corporations.” As he listens to everything bounce off her incomprehensible ideology, two things happen: 1) He starts to realize this terrorist leader is like 17 years old and 2) the actual combat is stalled long enough for Spider-Man to show up and web everyone and save the day. Spider-Man hauls John away and webs him to a rooftop someplace, where he has an imagined talk with the memory of Lemar Hoskins, who helps him ponder how and why this random teenage terrorist got all the power she has access to, leading him to have a lightbulb moment about the Power Broker's identity. (Don't get me started about the Power Broker's identity, but it's canon, so I'd make use of it as best I could.)

I guess really those kinds of ideas aren't so much a matter of "not brave enough to write" as "not masochistic enough to bother." But the fic ideas I have that are in the "artistically ambitious" vein of bravery are all things that I've actually written a ton of material for. It's the finishing that gets to me.

[jonogueirawrites]

Save him from himself.

Chapter 2

Summary:

Bucky has to face the consequences of his actions... if only he knew what would happen, maybe he would have become an outlaw earlier.

Much earlier.

TW: None.

AO3

Outlaw.

The phone rang once, and everybody looked at it. Their movements halted so they could look at the offending thing. When it rang for the second time, all eyes turned to its owner before they returned to their previous activities. Ayo, though, followed the woman with her eyes. Not judging but wishing. Wishing that whatever or whoever had sent the messages made the other fighter feel less lonely because even though she was surrounded, everyone could see that she missed him… more than anything.

~~~~~

Standing up and flinching from the pain, Lillian took the small thing from the bench and rolled her eyes, mouthing an I’m sorry to her fellow partners. Before addressing the messages, she walked out of the place and drank the rest of the water from her bottle without stopping to breathe.

Rolling her bruised shoulders and feeling the aches and pains from the last month’s training, she sighed heavily, telling herself for the thousandth time that it was worth it. Every little contusion, dislocated joint, lonely nights, and tears were worth it. Everything and anything she could do to protect him was done without question. Whatever the price was.

A grunt escaped her mouth when she leaned on the cold glass wall and lifted her phone to read the messages. A playful smile danced on her lips when the name Mr. Wings showed up on the screen. Her friendship with Sam Wilson only grew after the events that changed the world. He always made her laugh, and together they teased Bucky until he stopped brooding. Joking alongside them and having a good time. Sam and she knew how important it was for Bucky to feel connected to the present. Not to live his life in the past but to learn from it. Grab his new chance and do whatever he wished with it. She only hoped she was part of whatever plan he had.

There were two videos attached and nothing more. She tapped on the first one and her playful smile became a frown. That Bucky could be careless sometimes wasn’t a surprise but seeing him jumping from an airplane without a parachute and landing on his back sure as hell wasn’t something that made her giggle… although she did indeed grin when Sam teased him, and he got all worried about her opinion.

By the time she had finished watching the second one, there were cracks on the screen and a rapidly increasing headache. She closed her eyes and pleaded to every god out there to help her keep calm. Time and time again, she begged him not to get in trouble, but it was to no avail. It seemed trouble followed him wherever he went.

“I am going to kill you, James. Slowly, painful, and I will not regret it! And then you will buy me a new phone after making me break this one.”

~~~~~

When the cops took Bucky to the police station, he wasn’t expecting to see his therapist waiting for him. It was, in fact, the last thing he thought he would see. She chatted with Sam about his release and told them she wasn’t the one responsible for it but John Walker, who walked inside the place alongside Hoskins to talk to the trio.

John’s stride was filled with confidence. It was clear he wanted to fall into their grace. He had tried once to work together with the pair. And both Sam and Bucky knew that whatever he did would fail just like the first time. Although Bucky didn’t want to admit it, there was one and only one thing he had similar to Steve. They both were stubborn.

After a brief moment of animosity between Bucky and John, the group turned their attention to the entrance’s door when someone gave them a round of slow, loud applause.

“Oh shit!” Sam said before laughing, prompting John and Dr. Raynor to look back at him.

And Bucky… he looked at the woman in front of him. Once, he thought she was an angel sent to take care of him. A goddess who had taken pity on him and decided to free him from his mental shackles. But in truth, she was nothing more than a demon. Always teasing him with her laughter and soft skin. Her gentle words leading him to do whatever she wanted. To be whatever she wanted. And the best part of it all was that she wanted him to be himself again. Whole and happy. Without asking for anything in return. So, no. Not a demon or any other mystical being. Just a queen. His queen.

“James Buchanan Barnes.” Bucky looked to the floor, ashamed. He wanted to see her again. Oh, he did, but not like that. Not with so many people keeping eyes on them. “Let’s see if I got it right.” She raised her fingers and started counting on them. “You jumped from an airplane without a parachute, then proceeded to be reckless and got your ass kicked. You failed to show up to your therapy session, and now we are here in this police station where someone had to bail you out. Did I miss something?”

The click of the high heels approaching was like the tick-tock of a clock counting his mistakes… counting the minutes until he would be done and gone from that place. Away from those people. Alone with the one who mattered the most.

Sam snickered, gaining an intense stare from Bucky. “No. I think you got everything right,” he said, chuckling.

“I’m sorry. Who are you?” Dr. Rayner asked. On her face a mixture of amusement and confusion. She was shocked to see someone have such an effect on her most challenging patient.

“Apparently, nobody important. Isn’t that right, Mr. Barnes?”

Sam laughed again and patted Bucky’s shoulder. “Someone is in trouble.”

Bucky sighed and closed his eyes before answering the question. “Dr. Raynor, this is Lillian Black, my fiancée. Love, this is Dr. Raynor.”

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Lillian.” She extended her hand, and Lilly shook it. “Bucky doesn’t talk about you. At all.”

“Is that right?” Lilly gave him a pointed look.

“That part of my life has nothing to do-”

“Love…” Lilly rested her hands on his chest, giving him a quick kiss on the lips. “We talked about it.”

Bucky rested his forehead on hers. “I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too.” She caressed his jaw. “I’m back. I’m here. I’m not leaving.”

“Promise?”

Lilly laughed. “Yeah. Promise.”

John cleared his throat. “It’s nice to meet you, Lillian. I didn’t know Bucky was engaged.”

Lilly gave him a good look. Examining his face and then his uniform. “The new Captain America. It’s nice to meet you.” She nodded his way. “Thank you for helping Bucky. It was very kind of you.”

Bucky scoffed. “Oh, believe me when I say that it wasn’t because he has a big heart.” He placed himself slightly in between them. Unconsciously trying to shield that part of his life from the man.

While Dr. Raynor shook her head, Sam had a stern look on his face, prompting Lillian to give John and Lemar another good look.

“Is that so?” She almost whispered to herself. “Still, thank you!”

“Don’t mention it. I thought that we could-”

It was Dr. Raynor who interrupted them. “Bucky, therapy now. You too, Sam.”

Before Sam could protest, Lillian laced her fingers on Bucky’s. “Love,” she tilted her head and pressed her lips gently against his forehead, “behave, please.”

“I always do.” Bucky’s frown and answer made Sam laugh and Lilly smile.

“I know. And Sam?” She waited for him to turn and look at her. “It’s nice to see you!” He nodded, and the trio went on their way.

~~~~~

While they went inside, Lilly stayed behind taking care of Bucky’s final release details. John asked her questions about her time in the Avengers and her relationship with Bucky, answers she gave with minimal interest. If Bucky didn’t trust him, she wouldn’t either.

“Listen, John,” she signed the last papers, “put him in danger. Hurt him in any way. And it is me you will have to deal with. I don’t have any power or super-powered contacts, but an angered woman is worse than the worst of villains.” She gave the officer the pen back. “Bucky is a civilian, understand? A civilian . We don’t save the world anymore. We are getting married, starting a family someday, and having a boring, ordinary life together away from all the problems. We deserve that. He deserves that, and I’ll be damned if I let anyone ruin this for him.”

“I understand, but Bucky can help us.”

“Of course, he can help you. I’m not saying he can’t.” She crossed her arms and gave him a good look. “Everybody thinks that because he was trained to do some really shitty things, he owes them something. And the only thing that is owed here is a big fat apology from those people. Asking him to do more shitty things is easy. Looking at his eyes and seeing the broken man? Waking up in the middle of the night hearing his scream and pained groans? Seeing him space out remembering whatever the fuck still haunts him? That is the tough part, and very, very few people are willing to do it. Now that you became Captain America, you will understand what I’m talking about.”

“I was a soldier-”

“And you think because you went to war, and I’m not looking down at it, thank you so much for your service, and I really mean it, compares to what it is to being who you are now? When you have to call the big shots. When aliens drop down from the sky. When the whole Solar System depends on you, then you will understand. You will understand that with the kind of power that you have now comes unthinkable responsibility.”

“Ms. Black, please-”

“Just stop right there.” Lilly raised her hand. “I see my words won’t prevent you from trying, but you are warned. Hurt him, and you will regret it.”

-----

Bucky and Sam approached them, and Lilly turned their way with a smile on her face, already brushing aside her unpleasant conversation with John. She gave Sam a tight hug and talked to Dr. Raynor while the men went outside for a chat.

As soon as she left the police station, she walked to Bucky and Sam, who stood by themselves waiting for her. “I’m starving. How about some pizza?”

They crossed the street and headed down the way. Putting as much distance from the police station as they could before trying to get back to their private life. At least as much as was possible at that moment.

“I could eat something.” Bucky laced his fingers in hers.

“Well, I’ll leave the two of you alone. I’m sure you have a lot to talk about.” Sam shoved his hands in his pockets. “It was nice to see you again, Lilly.”

“Likewise, Sam.” She waved at him.

Before Sam walked too far away, he called Lilly. “Hey, Black! How bad are you going to scold him?”

Bucky shook his head. A small chuckle in the air and a big smile plastered on his face.

“Oh!” Lilly looked at him. “Intensely!” She playfully grabbed his ear and pulled him away. And although Bucky could be annoyed, he was nothing but delighted to be whole again.

Not knowing where to go, Lilly took her cell phone and searched for the nearest restaurant. Action that proved challenging to achieve since the screen was broken and barely working.

“What happened to your phone?” Bucky asked, looking at it from over her shoulder. His arms around her waist and his lips kissing her nape.

“You. You happened to my phone.”

“Me? What do you mean?” His nose buried in her hair. His metal hand made its way inside her t-shirt and started making circles on her stomach.

“Sam sent me the videos. I couldn’t help but get angry. Didn’t I tell you to stay out of trouble while I was away?” She turned to face him. Her hands cupping his jaw. “What if something bad had happened to you, Bucky? How would I live without you?”

As an answer, Bucky shot her a one-sided smile. “I don’t know. Probably find someone. Not as handsome as me, though?” He chuckled. He couldn’t help feeling happy. He had her in his arms, after all.

Lillian grabbed his t-shirt and pulled his lips down to kiss him. She missed him more than she could explain. His smile, laughter, and scent. She could drown in him, and even that wouldn’t be enough to quench her thirst.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky said between kisses. “I’m sorry, Love.” He lifted her and felt her circle her legs around his waist. He thanked the gods that the street was almost deserted and barely lit and walked them to a somewhat dark alley nearby. His mouth never leaving hers. “I missed you.” He left open mouth kisses on her neck. “You have no idea how much I missed you, Lilly.” Nibbling on the exposed skin, he let a low grunt escape him when she moaned in his ear.

“I missed you too.” She kissed him again. One hand pulling his hair and the other grabbing the back of his jacket, afraid he would vanish in thin air. “But,” she stopped and looked into his lust-blown eyes while he saw her midnight ones filled with yearning, “you haven’t behaved, so this will have to wait until we get to a hotel.”

“Lilly…”

“No. Put me down, and let’s eat something.”

“How about I put you down, and we go straight to the nearest hotel?”

“How about no?” She answered, tracing his lip with her thumb. Caressing the back of his head.

“Fine, woman!” He gently placed her on the ground and heard her chuckle. He watched as she took a couple of steps and, incapable of stopping, pulled her arm and kissed her one more time. “Take out and hotel.” He whispered on her lips and only let her go after she agreed.

I hope you liked.

Likes and reblogs are super appreciated!

[mcu-thoughts]

I love how names can show storytelling and character

It shows a few things:

What a character thinks of themself

How they relate to others

How others relate to them

And my favorite example is Bucky Barnes. Because he's gone through many names an identities.

For #1, he's changed what he calls himself, from Sergeant James Barnes when he's trying to pretend that his coming deployment is a dream for Steve, who wants to do it.

He mostly goes by Bucky and it seems to be his Name, not a nickname to him.

He repeats his name, which I think is a cross between resisting interrogation tactics AND trying to hold onto who he is. We know what Zola was working on.

During his Winter Soldier era, he doesn't really call himself anything, and when someone gives them a name (Steve) he rejects it, as if he knows that having an identity is punishable through Hydra.

Then when he's found again, he insists that Zemo call him Bucky. Not James. Bucky. Like that is his Name and that's who he is and he doesn't want someone to take it away.

This leads into #2, as he also insists to Shuri to call him Bucky after he's cleared of brainwashing, but he's less hostile about it. Like he's allowing her to call him that, rather than it being His Name, you know? Like someone calling you by your name, and you respond with "friends call me [nickname]."

And in the show with Sam, he only insists Sam not call him 'Buck' because that was Steve's name for him. He's called Bucky by most of the cast, and Zemo calls him James again, both instances he doesn't tell them to stop or call him something else. He's not relying on his identity through what other people call him.

Even though he isn't telling them no, it now feels wrong for Walker to call him Bucky. I felt backlash when he did it for the first time; like he hasn't earned the right. Zemo seems to understand that, and calls him James. Dr. Raynor switches between names, but we'd get into that later. The point is that Bucky doesn't correct her. There's a distance.

Then there's #3, and that focuses less on what Bucky calls himself or wants to be called, but how others refer to him.

Steve always used Bucky or Buck. The only time he said James was to find him on military files when he was missing. He clearly sees Bucky as his friend, whom he's called that his whole life.

Sam tries to use Buck, because he feels a connection or friendship with Bucky. This is even after he's told not to, like he knows there's friendship that Bucky is denying, or because he's showing he's not afraid of Bucky. There's no way Sam forgot it's not allowed, but eventually Bucky stops correcting him.

Hydra agents called him the Asset, the Soldier, not by names. I think it's not that much of a stretch that they would have referred to him as 'it' at some point, not even seeing him as human.

Walker uses Bucky, even after it's clear that they are not friends or allies. I think he's just not aware that is a friend term.

Zemo uses James, aware of his place relating to Bucky and unless told otherwise, doesn't cross the line.

Dr. Raynor, as I said, calls him James and Mr. Barnes. I think that's telling, showing that she doesn't care as much as she should (as his therapist) about helping him. He has major identity issues (which makes him a great example as I said) and her not sticking with a name shows her disregard for that. And it also reveals how she feels about him in a particular moment. James is when she's being soft or understanding, Mr. Barnes when she's being cross because he's not cooperating. She never once uses Bucky though, but it might sound unprofessional to her.

I love seeing in fics where they have Natasha call him the Russian version of James, because that's probably what she learned to call him when she was under his training. Maybe he learned his name and it was a way to call him that without getting in trouble. Maybe she just learned now and it's habit for her. But it shows some kind of connection (that, as much as I love WinterWidow, I see more as much older brother, younger sister dynamic for the MCU).

Also, while we're on the topic of written stories, seeing how a person refers to another through thoughts shows something too. Maybe Bucky was found and insists he go by James. Steve will probably still talk about him and think about him using Bucky, but call him James to his face. Which is different from switching completely at request, but thinking a name more familiar doesn't harm his recovery of identity, right? At least from Steve's point of view.

So... names are important. And how people refer to others, how they refer to themselves, and how that changes throughout a story, is very interesting to think about. And it adds a bit of depth overall.