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thatsmzbitchtoyou · 5 days ago

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The Thousand Yard Stare Chapter 1

Summary: Bucky Barnes has served his country well, and at a great personal cost. After being rescued as a prisoner of war, he is struggling as he gets back into civilian life. His newfound PTSD is severe. His friends and family try to help, but he needs a lot more than they can give. His mother signs him up for a Veteran recovery home, where he meets people struggling just like him, and the home director who has her own dark past to deal with. He might just find love along the way as he searches for peace.

Warnings: mentions of physical assault, violence, being taken prisoner; sexual assault/r@pe; PTSD/anxiety/depression/panic attacks, flashbacks, nightmares; suicide/minor character death; eventual smut

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Bucky woke up screaming again, but his nightmare had morphed into reality. He thrashed in the bindings holding him, fighting against the body that was pinning him down.

“It’s me! Buck…it’s me!” a voice yelled in his ear.

Bucky froze, his mind trying to catch up. It wasn’t bindings twisted around his sweaty body, they were sheets. On the bed he was sleeping on. At home. Home. He looked at the person holding him and blinked, his widened eyes adjusting to the darkness. It was Steve, his best friend, who was staying at his parents house to help him…help him.

Bucky let out a shuddering breath and his head fell back on the pillow as his body slowly relaxed from fight or flight mode. He could hear his mother, Winnie, behind Steve somewhere, crying quietly as her husband and Bucky’s father, George, held her, whispering reassuring words to her as they watched him struggle. Bucky patted Steve’s shoulder as he adjusted the tightened sheets and blankets around him. “Thanks, punk,” Bucky said, but it came out as more of a grunt from how hoarse his voice sounded from screaming in his sleep. He’d been home for a little over a year now, but the nightmares never ceased. Sometimes they weren’t as vivid, his mind giving him a chance to get at least some rest, but other nights like tonight they were relentless, spitting one bad memory at him after another, the pain feeling real, the people looking real like they were right in front of him again, the heat, the sun, the stuffy, tiny room, sand itching in every crevice, the screams…

Bucky shook his head, trying to shake away the nightmare. His hands ran through his sweaty, matted hair as he tried to keep his eyes open, afraid of what he’d see when they closed. “I’m sorry everybody,” he said louder. “I’ll be fine. Go back to sleep.”

George let go of Winnie and stepped up to Bucky’s bed as Steve helped right the blankets around him. “Buck, we really think you should reconsider the recovery home.” Bucky shook his head immediately but George reached out and gripped his face, making Bucky look at him. Bucky was surprised to see real tears in his father’s eyes. George rarely cried, and to see his face so torn and helpless broke a piece of Bucky’s heart. “Bucky, please,” George said, his lips trembling. “Whether you like it or not, you need help that we aren’t able to give. And I desperately want to give you that help, but I don’t know how. Your mother and I have enough to cover the cost. Just please…” George’s tears spilled over and he sniffed hurriedly. “We can’t lose you. Please.”

Bucky’s own tears started to well up in his eyes. He knew George was right. He needed help. He didn’t like admitting it, he didn’t want to look weak. He wanted to be strong for those he’d lost along the way, who didn’t make it out of being a prisoner of war like he did. But he was so tired. He could feel his mind cracking like it did when he was captured, and it scared him. He slowly nodded at George as he closed his eyes and his tears finally fell.

***

“So what’s he currently taking?” Y/N asked as she took detailed notes.

“Venlafaxine, or Effexor,” Winnie stated, looking at her own notes. “At night sometimes he’ll take an Ambien to help him sleep, but it mixes with the Effexor badly and makes him drowsy or dizzy the next day, or gives him pretty severe headaches, so he tries not to. But he just…” Winnie trailed off, her voice wobbling with emotion. “He barely sleeps. He wakes up screaming almost every night. We don’t know what to do–”

“And how could you?” Y/N said quietly, reaching her hand out and taking Winnie’s hand. “No one could ever prepare for something like this. But you’re doing the right thing in asking for help. I’m glad he’s finally come around to the idea of coming here,” she smiled kindly.

“So am I,” Winnie smiled back, wiping away the fallen tears. “When does he start?”

***

Bucky, his parents, Steve and their other close friend Sam all pulled up to the recovery home a week later. Bucky looked at it in awe. It didn’t look like a sterile facility or treatment center. It was a literal house. An old Victorian house that had been renovated, with a surround porch, a large front yard that was well manicured and flower bushes along the edges. In the front drive area was an old 1950s, two-toned turquoise blue and white Chevy truck that was in immaculate condition. Near the road at the corner of the lot was a sign that read “Mama’s House: Recovery and Rehabilitation.”

“Nice place,” Sam commented as he took out Bucky’s bag from his parent’s trunk. “Looks like it belongs on the front of a postcard.”

“I like the name,” Steve said as he took in the house. “Very homey.”

Bucky nodded along with their comments. They all headed up the porch and toward the front door. George rang the doorbell and gave the door a few knocks. There was a chorus of barks and raised voices as the doorbell rang and Bucky’s brow furrowed.

The door opened to a man in a military green t-shirt and jeans, holding a large, silver-colored cane corso dog back by the collar. “Teddy, you fucker. Hi!” the man said, waving at everyone. “Sorry! He’s the home dog, didn’t quite graduate from service dog training. Which one of you is the newbie?” Bucky stepped forward, raising his hand slightly and giving the man a tight lipped smile. “Good to meet you,” the man held his hand out and Bucky hesitantly shook it. “I’m Scott Lang. Staff Sergeant in the Air Force. This is Teddy,” he gestured to the huge dog. Bucky held out a hand to Teddy and let him sniff him, which only made Teddy more excited as he pulled Scott closer and started licking Bucky’s hand. “Oh, you must be a good one, otherwise Teddy would have bitten you,” Scott laughed then turned and greeted everyone else. “The boss is out back. Come on!”

They all followed Scott through the house, looking around quickly at the old character of the home mixed with modern furnishings and amenities. As they came through the large kitchen to the back door Bucky was greeted with more people outside in a huge backyard. They were all doing different things. Gardening in one corner of the lot, some others playing basketball in another corner, two people sunbathing in a pergola covered fire pit area in the middle of the yard, and near the back he could see a few more buildings that were built beyond the main property with some more people coming in and out of them.

“Y/N!” Scott called out. He let go of Teddy who bounded out into the yard, quickly going up to every person and greeting them with a quick lick and tail wag before he ran up to a woman in the gardening area. She had looked up when Scott called and smiled brightly at him and the newcomers. She stood and dusted off her knees and gardening gloves, taking them off before petting Teddy and letting him lick her face.

“Thanks Scott! Hey Winnie!” she called back and waved.

Bucky gave his mother an amused look. “What? Someone had to come and check this place out,” Winnie teased him as she smiled and waved back to Y/N.

As Y/N approached he looked her over. She was pretty, short, and curvy, the overalls she was wearing snug around her hips and stomach and her sports bra leaving little to the imagination. Her hair was tied up and as she removed her sunglasses Bucky’s eyes slightly widened. Beautiful, he thought. Her bright smile stayed as she greeted Winnie first with a hug. “I’m sorry I’m not more presentable, I lost track of the time,” she laughed and patted off some more dirt. “Good to see you again,” she said sincerely. “And you,” she turned to Bucky, giving him a once over, “must be Bucky.”

“Yes ma’am,” Bucky nodded, giving her a polite, small smile. She walked up to him with her hands clasped in front of her.

“Can I shake your hand?” she asked, looking up at him. Bucky blinked before nodding and holding his hand out to her. She carefully took it and shook his hand firmly. “It’s nice to meet you, Bucky,” she said, her voice sounding gentle. “Welcome to Mama’s House.” She then released his hand and turned to the others. “And who are these strapping young men?”

Sam preened at the attention, Steve laughing and George scoffing. “Sam Wilson, friend of the family,” Sam said, walking forward with a flirtatious smile and shaking Y/N’s hand. Y/N giggled and then turned to Steve.

“Steve Rogers, also a friend of the family,” Steve said, shaking her hand and smiling.

“George Barnes, father,” George said while shaking her hand. “Though I don’t know how young or strapping I am.”

Y/N then fully laughed, and Bucky couldn’t seem to stop the full smile that spread on his face. Her laugh was contagious, loud, and boisterous, ringing through the air like its own melody. She covered her mouth to quiet herself as she turned to them all. “Well, it’s wonderful to meet all of you. Would you like a tour?”

“Yes!” Sam said, looking eagerly at the house and the yard.

Y/N smiled then walked ahead of them all to the house. Bucky did a double take when he saw her back turned to them. Beneath the overalls and the sports bra were multiple long, deep scars across her back, running from the tops of her shoulders to where he couldn’t see anymore. The skin was stretched on the edges and pink in the middle of each scar. He looked toward Steve and Sam next to him who were also staring. They exchanged glances of concern before quickly falling instep.

Y/N showed them each room and had Bucky drop his bag in what would be his room. He was grateful that he wouldn’t have to share with anyone. The house was beautiful, well decorated and stocked with everything that anyone could need while staying there. It was like her own little bed and breakfast that she took immense pride in, and it showed as they walked through the house. It was well lived in, but clean and tidy.

She took them outside and showed them around the yard, then to the back buildings just off the main lot. “These are our activity and rehab buildings,” she said, walking up to the first one. “This is the rage room.” Y/N opened the door and showed them a large room filled with broken old TVs, stereos, speakers, kitchen appliances, and overall junk. In a smaller, glass walled off room were bats, hammers, and axes hung on the wall off to the side behind a thick pane of glass. “We always have someone supervising when someone wants to use the rage room. No one has access to the weapons without the supervisor key. I would like to think the point of this room is pretty obvious,” she smirked as she closed the door.

“There’s a scream room inside the therapy building,” she said as they moved to the next building. It looked more professional, with small walled off rooms as offices. “This is where most of everyone’s therapy sessions will take place. Of course that’s changeable if you so choose and your therapist is up for it. We’ve had people just take walks around the property or stay in their rooms. Whatever works for you.”

Y/N then went to the next building. “This is the greenhouse. We have the open garden in the yard and then this for more delicate things to grow. We use this for therapy as well.”

“This next building is for physical therapy,” she said as they moved on. Inside was what looked like a small gym, all kinds of equipment littered along the floor and a space off in the back that had lockers and another enclosed area that had bathrooms and showers. “It’s also a gym, not just for those who need regular physical therapy. Exercise can be great therapy.”

“And lastly, this is the comfy building,” Y/N said, her smile brightening again. It was obvious this was her favorite space. As they stepped in Bucky felt a sense of calm overcome him. The space was cozy, with every surface covered in pillows and blankets and stuffed animals. In one corner of the room was a caged off area. “That’s where we have our monthly pet playdates,” Y/N pointed to that corner. “The local animal shelter brings in some dogs or cats and we play with them. We also help sponsor a yearly adoption drive. And over there,” she pointed to a walled off area, “is the cuddle room.” She led them over to it and opened the door. Inside was a king sized bed and a couch off to the side, with a small table and a mushroom lamp. “I’m a certified cuddler, which sounds ridiculous, I know,” she said as Sam snickered in the corner, Steve slapping his arm, “but it’s extremely important for those who are learning to get comfortable being touched again. This kind of thing was very helpful for me during my rehabilitation, so I’ve made a space for it here.” Bucky gave her a short glance. She had gone through rehabilitation? For what? He quickly looked back at the bed and the couch. “The room is soundproof, so if anyone ever just needs to have a good cry, it’s a great spot for it. Anyways,” she led them all back out to the main area. “Any questions so far?”

“You taking any new cuddling clients?” Sam asked cheekily. He dodged Steve’s arm.

“Not at this time, unfortunately,” Y/N laughed. “Unless you’re a retired, struggling veteran?” Sam’s smile slipped from his face and his lips pursed as Steve eyed him wryly. Y/N huffed a laugh and then turned to Bucky and his parents. “We also do group therapy if anyone feels more comfortable with that, as well as group outings in the community. In a few weeks we’ll be going out for drinks and karaoke at the bar nearby. So, if you’d like we can go back to the house and get you settled in, and then we’ll discuss the rules and all that not-so-fun stuff.”

Bucky nodded and they all went back to the house. Y/N chatted with them as Bucky got moved in, getting his things set up slowly and methodically. When he was done they all moved downstairs to her personal office. Y/N sat at the chair at the desk while they all sat opposite her on chairs and a couch further back. “Okay, so, the not-so-fun stuff,” Y/N said, pulling out a file that had Bucky’s name on it. “Winnie already set up the payment and insurance information, and your prescription has been moved to a pharmacy here. I’ve been in contact with the VA, but of course it’s the VA, so who knows when that will be helpful,” she rolled her eyes. “Bucky,” she watched him carefully. “The house rules are breakfast will be served at 8:30 a.m., lunch at 1:00 p.m., and dinner at 6:00 p.m. If you don’t want to eat with us, you don’t have to. You’re an adult, so I’m not going to tell you when to go to bed, but I do lock up the house between 11 p.m. and midnight, so if you don’t have your key, the porch swing has a long pillow on it, but you're out of luck til the morning. If you have plans and will be out overnight, please let me know. Capiche?” Bucky nodded. “Everyone is assigned certain chores around the house and scheduled times for each of the buildings out back. You are welcome to either use them during your time slots or not, the only one you’re not allowed to miss is your sessions with your therapist. If you feel like you need more time in one versus another, we can figure out a time that won’t interfere with other people's times.” Bucky nodded again. “Each person living here right now is here because they need help. Every single one of them is dealing with some form of anxiety, depression, PTSD, and some of them need physical therapy, too. Common courtesy like not going into other people’s rooms, being aware of other’s space and things, and general kindness and civility are expected and enforced. If we all can’t get along while we’re healing, then more serious measures will be taken. And lastly,” she glanced at his parents and his friends, “you are free to leave whenever you want.”

“But–” Winnie started, looking worried.

“This is not a prison, and I am not your warden,” Y/N interrupted her. “You need to be here because you want to be here and get better. Not because your parents want it or expect it, or your friends, significant others, a job, the military, whatever else. Only you,” she said it seriously, her previous softness leaving her face. Bucky frowned but he nodded solemnly. “However, if after a period of time it seems no progress or steps forward have been taken, then I can ask you to leave if I feel we are not the right fit for you here. Sound good?”

“Yes ma’am,” Bucky said again.

“And none of this ‘ma’am’ stuff,” Y/N waved off his words. “Just Y/N is fine.”

Bucky smirked. “Yes, Y/N.”

Y/N smiled widely at him. “Well,” she looked at her phone. “It’s time for me to start getting dinner ready. You can say goodbye to your family and friends and then we’ll go from there.” She stood from the desk and everyone followed her. She led them back out to the front porch and Bucky turned to his family at the bottom of the steps.

Sam stepped forward and hugged him, giving him a hard pat on the back. “You can do this, man,” Sam said, nodding at him with a confident smile. “I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks,” Bucky said, looking away.

Steve stepped up next and gave Bucky a longer hug. They had been friends since childhood, and if anyone knew how much Bucky was struggling, it was Steve. Steve squeezed him harder before pulling away and holding his arms. “I’m here for you, no matter what you need, k?” Bucky nodded with a small smile. “Till the end of the line,” Steve said, holding out a hand.

“Till the end of the line,” Bucky answered, clapping his hand into Steve’s as they hugged each other one more time.

Winnie was beside herself as she stepped up and held Bucky. “I’m so proud of you for doing this, James. We love you so much,” she cried.

“Love you, too, Ma,” Bucky said, hugging her tight before turning to his dad.

George was fighting back tears, but stepped up and held Bucky’s face like he did that night a few weeks before. He stared at him for a moment before pulling him into a hug. “My boy,” George sniffled. “My beautiful boy. I’m proud of you. For all you’ve done, and all you will do.” Bucky felt his eyes fill with tears. He and his dad had always shared a special bond. Being away from him was going to be hard. “I love you.”

“I love you,” Bucky whispered. They pulled apart and George held Bucky’s face one last time before turning away and walking with the others to the car. They all waved goodbye before driving away, Bucky raising a hand before they disappeared. He breathed deeply, quickly wiping away the wetness in his eyes before turning to face Y/N. She was still at the top step, and gave him a warm smile.

“You alright?” Y/N asked.

Bucky nodded as he walked back up the stairs. “I’ll be fine.”

“Okay,” she said simply. “Would you feel up to meeting everybody or would you like to rest?”

“I can meet everyone,” Bucky said. He wasn’t feeling social, but he could at least get all the weird greetings out of the way.

“Awesome,” she brightened again and turned back to the house.

Bucky met all the other veterans in the home. Scott, who he’d met before, was the class clown, always trying to get everyone to smile. Wanda was quiet, kept to herself, but kind. Her brother Pietro was there as well, and the complete opposite of her. He was loud, vivacious, and extremely flirty. Bucky had to hold back a laugh when Y/N very quickly and subtly put him in his place. Bruce was the oldest out of everyone, and even quieter than Wanda, but he and Y/N seemed to have a special bond between them, almost like he was a father figure to her. And lastly there was Clint. He was jittery, animated, and couldn’t seem to stop moving. He wore hearing aids, and at times would just give up speaking and start signing to Y/N, who was able to sign back to him.

“We’re all a little mad here,” Clint had said, giving Bucky an exaggerated wink. “That’s an Alice in Wonderland reference. Have you seen it? The newer one? I thought it was good. Some people didn’t think so but I liked it. So what are you here for?”

“Clint!” Y/N whisper-yelled at him, her wide eyes staring at him incredulously.

“What? We’re all fucked up. I’m just wondering why he’s fucked up,” Clint said like it was the most simple thing in the world.

Bucky huffed a laugh. “It’s okay. I’m, uh, dealing with PTSD and nightmares and uh…a few other things,” he answered, trying to be open with these new people he was going to be living with.

“Huh, yeah me too,” Clint said, wide-eyed as his head nodded frantically. “PTSD, depression, suicidal ideation, manic episodes, memory loss, lost my hearing,” he pointed to his ears, “but I gotta get better for my kids, ya know? I’ve got 3. Do you have kids? A wife? Or maybe a husband? Sorry I don’t mean to assume. I’m straight, but there’s nothing wrong if you’re not. Whatever floats your boat, ya know?”

Bucky smiled wider, enjoying Clint’s run-on thoughts. “No kids. No wife. No husband. Not really looking for anything like that right now,” he said.

Clint talked his ear off until Y/N called everyone in for dinner. As they all sat and ate, Bucky got used to the noise, the voices talking over each other, the different conversations going on, passing plates and dishes over and over. It was nice compared to how quiet his parents were, like they were walking on eggshells around him. After dinner they all started to disperse and Bucky went back up to his room. He finished unpacking the last few small things he had left and then sat on his bed, looking around the room. He had a view of the backyard and could see Teddy playing fetch with Y/N outside. He watched them for a minute, smiling at Teddy standing on his hind legs and being at eye level with Y/N, if not a smidge taller than her, as he licked her face. He could faintly hear her protesting as she shoved him off and threw the ball again, making him streak across the yard again.

Soon after she headed inside with Teddy and Bucky decided he was ready for bed. It had been a long day of driving, unpacking, and being friendly, and he felt exhausted. Just after he was dressed in his pajamas and brushed his teeth he heard a knock on his door. He opened it to see Y/N standing there in her pajamas and Teddy sitting next to her but wagging his tail excitedly at seeing Bucky.

“Hey Bucky, mind if I come in for a minute?” Y/N asked.

“Yeah, sure,” Bucky agreed and stepped aside. She walked in and headed for the chair in the corner while Teddy sniffed and licked Bucky’s hands and followed him to his bed. Bucky scratched his ears as he sat on the bed again, smiling as Teddy settled his head on Bucky’s knee.

“I’m sorry to interrupt as you're getting ready for bed. But I figured we should go over your schedule,” she said.

“Right, sounds good,” Bucky agreed. As she pulled out a paper and unfolded it she read over his schedule, making notes on her phone of things that needed changing. “And lastly your comfy room times will be on Friday nights from 8 p.m. to 9 p.m. I know it’s kinda late, and at the beginning of the weekend, so if we need to move it we can figure something out if you have plans.”

“I don’t think I’ll need that,” Bucky said, his voice coming out harsh.

Y/N blinked at him. “Why not?”

“I just don’t,” Bucky said firmly, not looking at her.

Teddy’s head picked up at Bucky’s change in demeanor and bumped Bucky’s chin with his nose, a short whine coming from his throat. Y/N leaned forward in the chair, setting the paper aside. “Your mom alluded to the fact that you may have had something happen that you aren’t willing to talk about. I understand–”

“No, you don’t,” Bucky said, glaring at her.

Y/N didn’t seem angry or taken aback by his outburst. She merely sighed as she watched him. “I do, Buck. More than you could imagine.”

Bucky’s frown deepened, his eyes narrowing at her as they stared at each other. He had given the full report of what had happened to him to the doctor and commanding officer when he was rescued, because that’s what he was supposed to do, but no one else. He had a suspicion that his parents had some idea of what may have happened, but he wasn’t willing to talk about it with anyone, at least not now. But the look in Y/N’s eyes made him pause.

“Just meet with me once, and then if you don’t like it, you don’t have to do it again,” Y/N said imploringly.

She had a knowing look in her eye that made him curious, so after a moment he nodded. “Fine. Just once.”

“Just once,” Y/N agreed, a small smile on her face. She grabbed his schedule, stood and walked over to him, leaning down to scratch Teddy’s head before turning to the door. “I’m just down the hall, so if you need anything let me know. If those nightmares come back, me and Teddy will come running.”

Bucky patted Teddy one more time before Teddy scurried off with Y/N. She gave Bucky one last smile before closing his door. Bucky wondered at what she had said. How could she know what he’d been through? He’d been trained for torture, and yet nothing in the world could have prepared him for what he’d gone through. He shook his head and laid down, trying to calm himself before sleep took him. He really hoped it wouldn’t be too bad tonight.

#marvel #bucky barnes #smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfic #series fanfic #chapter 1 #pow!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x curvy!reader #curvy reader #trauma

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crazed-reader-writer · 6 days ago

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Y'know, I see plenty of Bucky Barnes with a service dog. But it doesn't quite seem right to me.

Give me more Bucky with an accidental support cat.

Give me Bucky with a bleeding heart who is now free but doesn't know how to be good.

Give me Bucky who picks up a fluffy gray feral cat off of the street while taking a walk because he doesn't know what to do with himself anymore.

Give me Bucky who worries too much that he would forget to care for a dog when he has a PTSD episode but knows that this cat is scrappy enough to be okay.

Give me a cat who is angry at the world and will hiss at everyone who comes near, so Bucky knows its a hallucination if the cat keeps sleeping.

Give me a cat who reminds Bucky that he can be gentle again when it's a hot day and the best way to keep cool is to take a nap on a conveniently placed metal arm.

Give me a cat who just so happens to demand food at three in the morning while Bucky is having another nightmare.

Give me Bucky who can accept love again because he knows he earned it this time, because he knows that this cat wouldn't trust him without reason the way a dog would.

Give me a pair that have both seen hell and survived.

#emotional support cat #bucky barnes #marvel mcu #winter soldier #mcu #mcu fandom #james buchanan barnes #hydra marvel #trauma #trauma recovery #emotional support animal

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stellar-solar-flare · 2 months ago

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Every Reason - Bucky Barnes x Reader

Rated T for themes - my blog is intended for 18+ only| Angst, hurt/comfort, a little fluff | Established relationship| Everyone Lives/No One Dies AU.

When it's time for the holidays, your ghosts always seem to come haunt you, and at a New Year's Eve party in the Compound, they rise to the surface.

Story Content Warnings: References to past trauma and abuse (not detailed), self-worth issues.

Reader is female, no description of appearance besides a mention of her wearing a dress and makeup.

Word Count: 1,064. | This fic on AO3. | Author Masterlist

Alternate Universe: The Avengers Initiative (AI) continued SHIELD's work after its collapse to corruption, with Steve as the Head Strategist and Tony as the Director. The Avengers are living together in the Tower - Bucky has healed, and Civil War never happened because Tony and Steve worked through their differences like adults.

I do not own anything Marvel related. This is an unofficial fan work. No copyright infringement intended. This is a work of fiction. Any similarity to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events, is purely coincidental.

The soft click of the roof terrace door found its way into your consciousness, and as quickly and discreetly as you could, you wiped your wet cheeks with the sleeve of your coat. The makeup had been set in place with the same spray that Nat used for her looks, which meant that it would not falter even in the face of an apocalypse, let alone with a little sniffling.

Crisp night air surrounded you; the lights of the whole Avenger’s Initiative Campus had been turned off so that the fireworks would get the best possible canvas, and in between the shows, you could enjoy the stars. It was beautiful. Peaceful. Your stomach was full of delicious treats from the grazing board — the biggest that you had ever seen. There was a pleasant buzz of a couple of glasses of champagne in your veins and a pretty dress on your body.

You had every reason to be happy.

It didn’t take an agent to recognize the steps that were crossing the roof, so instead of turning around to check, you used the few seconds to try to pull yourself together.

“Here you are,” Bucky breathed out as he reached you, and you could make out a hint of relief from his tone, which made your stomach twist. “I thought you said that you were going to the bathroom?”

His right palm came to rest on the small of your back, and a part of you thought you didn’t deserve that sort of warmth and had probably worried him on top of it.

“I did,” you said, hoping that your voice wouldn’t sound so stuffy that it would give you away. “I just needed a moment to breathe.”

“It’s pretty loud down there,” Bucky replied, shaking his head. “The party games keep getting wilder.”

You nodded, still keeping your eyes on the faraway horizon, the starry skies that spread out above the forests that surrounded the AI Campus. It was peaceful; a home, just as much as the man standing next to you was starting to be after a few months of going steady.

“Yeah,” you said, your flat tone betraying you and making that mocking voice in your head congratulate you for being some agent.

“Doll?” Bucky murmured, and even without looking, you could imagine the crease of worry on his brow. “Is everything alright?”

He knew the answer to that question — it wasn’t a question, not really, simply a chance for you to save face if you weren’t ready to talk about this right now. You weren’t sure you were, but you didn’t want him to worry.

“I’ll be fine, Bucky. I just. Holidays are hard.”

You whispered the final sentence with a voice so tiny you weren’t sure he would’ve heard the words if it wasn’t for his super hearing. Tears burned in your eyes again, the swirl of disgust and disappointment and anger a maelstrom at the bottom of your stomach. You had thought you had left all this behind; you had thought you’d gotten over it, and you weren’t sure which one you hated more, the ones that had caused you to be like this or yourself for still allowing them to have this power over you. Still, after all the years of no contact, when you had your own life and a career and a beautiful group of friends and an amazing partner, their ghosts lingered in the back of your head.

“Hey, come here,” Bucky whispered, wrapping his arms around you and bringing you to him. “Shhh.”

You buried your face against his button-up; with how hot he ran, he hadn’t bothered to get a coat, and you were immensely grateful for it since it allowed you to feel his warmth.

“It was always bad when it was the holidays. Worse than usual,” you managed to say. “And I hate it that I can’t just enjoy it even now, when everything is fine, and I’m afraid I’ll ruin the mood for everyone else and I’m already ruining your night and you’re so wonderful and I don’t deserve you!”

With your last words, you broke down into ragged sobs, and his arms tightened around you. He pressed his face against your hair and slowly rocked you from side to side, gently, letting the worst of the emotion pass you by. You scrunched the fabric of his shirt into your fists, clinging on to him like he was the only steady thing in the world.

“It’s alright, honey,” he cooed. “I’m right here.”

“I’m sorry,” you sniffed. “I’m sorry I’m ruining your night and being such a killjoy when everything is fine.”

“It’s okay. It’s not your fault. You’re not ruining anything,” he whispered.

You centered yourself on the slow movement of his hand on your back, the heat of his body, the scent of his aftershave.

“You could’ve just told me,” he said, and it wasn’t him scolding you.

The quiet tone shot another arrow of guilt through your chest. You hated the idea of him having looked for you from the compound with a pit of worry in his stomach; you weren’t entirely sure how long you’d been gone, but it had to be at least half an hour now.

“I know the holidays aren’t the easiest for you, either,” you said. “I didn’t want to be a burden to you. I’m sorry I worried you.”

“You’re not a burden,” he said. “I want to be there for you. Makes it easier to accept… that I can have my bad days too.”

“Of course you can,” you said.

Finally, you found enough strength to lift your face to look at him. Even in the dim light, you could still see the blue of his eyes, the handsome face framed by a few locks that had escaped the half-bun on the back of his head. It made you all the more conscious about how your eyes were probably swollen and red.

“Sorry, I’m a mess,” you whispered.

“You’re beautiful,” he said. “I’m here. Even when it’s not perfect. Especially then. I love you, you know?”

It wasn’t the first time he said it but it still made you smile regardless of the emotional turmoil that still rolled its way through your body.

“I love you too,” you whispered. “Thank you for being there for me.”

“Always, doll. Always.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #tw self worth issues #tw past trauma #tw past abuse

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writingmyheartsout · 4 months ago

Text

Nobody's Soldier - a Bucky Barnes story.

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

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

This fic is also on Ao3 and Wattpad

Nobody's Soldier playlist

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

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

____________

Ch. 1 - Paralyzed

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I had a nightmare..."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You wanted him to know you were there for him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then he let out a huffed sigh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You lightly chuckled on the other end.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Fine.” he only answered.

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

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

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

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

Bucky woke up in the morning slightly confused.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then the reticence.

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

-to Bucky: you ok?

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

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

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

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

Why?

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

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

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

-From Bucky: I'm fine.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

4 missed calls from Bucky

1 text from Bucky

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

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

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

What the hell was going on?

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

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

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

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

-from Bucky: what happened?

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

So you just typed a quick answer.

-to Bucky: wasn't feeling myself, I'm sorry...we can chat tomorrow.

And with that, you fell asleep, exhausted and aching with your phone still in your hand.

Bucky read your message over and over again while he lay in his bed. He was still worried but the knot in his stomach started to lessen slightly. He felt like a fool for being so dramatic.

Of course, you were just having an off day. Off days happened, especially for people like the two of you. He was just overreacting.

He decided to send you one last text, unable to help himself.

-From Bucky: call me if you need me.

With that, he sat his phone on his bedside table and closed his eyes.

The answer to Bucky's text only arrived at the end of the next day since sleeping past your alarm had made you arrive late for a work appointment.

In other words, your day was a bit hectic.

Then you helped your neighbour on your way back home.

And when finally you were sitting on the couch, in your comfortable clothes, the tv didn't turn on. So you had to call the landlord then.

You were tired, frustrated even and not really in your best behaviour. Still, you owed Bucky an answer.

-to Bucky: did you sleep last night? Saw you were a bit worried. Anyway not my best day but I'm better. Ps: do you happen to know how to fix a tv?

Bucky read over your message, his lips twitching into an involuntary small smile.

Not your best day.

He could tell from the way you wrote the message that you were a little bit frustrated with how your day had gone but still tried to stay positive. It was… cute.

He quickly typed out a response, ignoring the strange feeling inside his chest as he sent it.

-From Bucky: I slept alright. And how do you manage to screw up a damn tv?

-to Bucky: how dare you! I was out all day and it was already like this, called the landlord but he said there's nothing he could do :(

You typed out almost too quickly, but then you were distracted, only to finish your text minutes later.

-to Bucky: sorry my neighbour needed something… anyways I’m happy to hear you slept some, at least.

You were so focused on the broken tv, and your neighbour moving out that you didn’t tell him about the episode that happened last night. That made you feel rather guilty, you were paired for that specific reason and while you were all about helping him, you just refused to let others help you when the same thing happened.

Bucky was beginning to pick up on your behaviour, about you only talking about your struggles when you wanted to be helpful but not when you needed it. You had talked him through a panic attack but never said anything about why you were still in therapy.

At that, a feeling of determination welled up inside of him as he read over your message.

He was going to find out what was going on with you, one way or another. Shocking even himself with that very thought. e quickly typed out a reply.

-From Bucky: Your landlord sounds like a douche. Maybe I could take a look at it for you.

His next message made you stop in your tracks as you crossed the room and went to the kitchen.

The other times you were paired up, it was always by calls and texts as the other were too scared to even go out, so this was kind of unexpected. With the way he had acted when you both first met and how he still tried to, this was kind of a shock.

But then, when you didn’t answer right away, another text arrived, pulling a slight smile out of you, now that he was acting worried.

-from Bucky: so?

-to Bucky: won't hurt, can send u my address, warn me when you do though.

Bucky tried to keep his heart from beating so damn fast. It was a dumb offer, a stupid thought he had, but you had accepted nonetheless. So he wasn’t sure why he felt… nervous?

He told himself it was because he was worried about you, worried that you might have been struggling like he was. But a small part of him couldn't help but wonder if maybe it was because he…

No!... not going there.

He stopped himself from thinking more about it, quickly replying to you.

-From Bucky: Yeah, send me the address. I’ll be there in thirty.

I'll be there in thirty. Well that was quick, you told yourself as you read his last message, totally not expecting this sudden change of heart as a strange feeling of happiness started brewing inside you but, at the same time, you were scared.

Not because Bucky was a bad person, you were sure he had too much good in him, but for the fact that someone would actually want to come over.

This was new.

And while you were overthinking this, trying to tidy up your messy apartment as best as you could, minutes passed and suddenly someone had knocked at your door.

Bucky stood in front of your apartment, his hand raised to knock. He was starting to feel a bit dumb.

It was a stupid idea. Why did he offer to come over? Stupid, stupid, stupid!

But his mind was filled with worry, his heart racing as he continued to stand in front of your door like some kind of idiot.

He finally forced himself to knock, even if the knocking came off a bit too loudly because of his nervousness.

As soon as you opened the door your breath hitched a little. He was standing there, wearing just a pair of black jeans, a leather jacket with a dark blue jersey underneath, and…gloves?

When did he get so tall and… no, not the right time, as you took in the unreadable expression he had on his face.

But then you quickly reminded yourself that the only time you both saw each other was in his doctor's office.

"Hi stranger..." you said, after a few seconds of internal battle within your brain.."...were you worried about me perhaps?" you joked, awkwardly and only to hide your embarrassment.

But as he looked down at you, you realized you were still in his way and stepped aside enough to let him pass.

The first impression he had of you was bad, and the second? Well, maybe now he considered you an idiot.

Bucky stood stiffly in front of you, almost towering over you as he looked down to meet your gaze.

Damn, you were tiny. He hadn’t noticed that before, just now realizing just how much smaller you were than him.

As he stepped in, he tried to keep the cold look on his face, but it was hard to keep his eyes from roaming over you, taking in your messy sweatpants and oversized shirt. Cute, he caught himself thinking.

"Maybe a little bit..." he muttered grudgingly, walking inside your apartment.

“Oh…” you said quietly as he walked in, surprised by his answer.

Then you saw him looking around as if he was searching for something, making you even more confused.

Then it hit you… his doctor told you he was a former military.

"It's just… just an old tv..." you tried, not really knowing why you stuttered at first as you followed him into your living room.

Bucky kept his hands shoved into his pockets as he walked around your living room, eyes roaming over every corner in search of any potential threats. An old habit of his from his time on the front lines.

When he spotted the television, his eyes narrowed slightly, only shedding off his jacket and remaining with just a long-sleeved shirt on.

A damn old tv, maybe older than him.

"How old is it?" he asked while he kneeled down in front of it, his fingers already picking at the back of the machine.

It took a little to answer his question, still stunned by the fact that he was really in your apartment.

The same guy that couldn't stand you the first time he saw you.

"Very… I mean..." you replied, then quickly correcting yourself."...I don't know really, bought it used."

You confessed, cheeks slightly flushing as if you were ashamed by that. You didn't have much on your own and therapy was damn expensive, after all.

As he worked, you tried not to bother him much, staying away as much as possible and sitting quietly on the couch.

Bucky hummed quietly while you spoke, his mind racing with questions.

How old could this tv be? And just how much did it cost you?

But he held his tongue, not wanting to risk upsetting you with his questions.

As he continued to inspect the old device, still he noticed how he could practically sense you trying to distance yourself from him and not bothering him much.

So he held back the urge to look at you, trying to focus on the old machine instead.

Why were you being too damn polite? Why were you so damn far away?

As you tried to focus, still not very much into yourself after a whole day of unexpected setbacks, the bell rang making you jump a little, startling Bucky as well.

But before he could say anything, you went to check, only to realize it was just your neighbour again as soon as you opened the door.

And while you talked, you didn’t notice that her voice was so loud that it could be heard even inside your apartment, as you both were at the door and away from the living room, so much that made Bucky curious about what was happening.

Bucky paused in his work on the tv as he heard the bell ring, his head turning to look towards you as you walked out of the room.

He kept working, the sound of your voices filtering faintly into the living room.

He wasn't trying to listen in your conversation but the more you and your neighbour talked, the more Bucky found himself subconsciously trying to make out what was being said.

He started to feel like a creep, listening to your private conversation like this. But he couldn't help it, the curiosity was eating away at him and...

The more he listened, the more he realised that something was off.

He slowly rose up from his kneeled position and turned to face the entrance as the voices got slightly louder.

When you finally closed the door with a loud sigh and turned to come back to the other room, you almost jumped as you found him there, standing near the entrance, with a deep frown on his face.

"Jesus..." you gasped, a hand on your chest.”...scared the hell out of me."

"You good? ...did something happen?" you then added as he kept looking between you and the front door.

Bucky kept his face stoic, his mind racing as his eyes roamed over you.

He was about to ask you about the neighbour, about your conversation. It was none of his business but… he just couldn’t stop himself.

"What the hell was that about?" he asked, gesturing toward the door.

It was your turn to frown, as soon as the words left Bucky's mouth you got confused.

How the hell did he...? you thought, crossing both your arms over your chest.

You were tired, still bothered by the remnants of your previous episode and on the verge of a breakdown. You couldn't handle this now.

"Listen, I'm going to be as polite as I can right now..." you started, your tone calm but with a slight edge.

"That's none of your fucking business."

And as soon as you said that, not giving him time to reply or do anything, you stormed off and locked yourself in the bathroom, sitting on the floor as soon as you were in.

Bucky was stunned for a moment, completely taken aback by your reaction. He had been rude, pushing a personal question out of the blue.

He hadn't really meant it, he was just worried about you. But now he realized he had gone too far, overstepping a boundary.

God damn it, he was a moron.

He felt panic well up inside him as you stormed off into the bathroom and slammed the door behind you, the sound of the lock flicking in place echoing in the apartment.

Bucky stood frozen still, the silence from the other side of the door deafening.

Was he supposed to wait there? Should he knock? Leave? He didn't know what to do.

He ran his hand through his hair, feeling completely lost.

He couldn’t bring himself to leave you alone, not while you were clearly upset, so after a few moments standing there awkwardly, he gently knocked on the door.

You missed the first knock, too lost in your mind yet again, trying to calm your breathing the way your therapist told you many times.

Everything seemed to shatter into tiny pieces, even the smallest things now becoming bigger problems.

You just couldn't, while you kept repeating, more like murmuring to yourself...

I'm sorry...

can't do this anymore...

please shut up

Your brain felt like it was on fire, hurting you more than you could imagine.

Bucky's worry grew as he heard your voice quietly talking to yourself through the door.

He felt like an idiot for overstepping, causing you to feel like this. And now you were locked away from him, alone and struggling.

With a knot in his stomach, he once again knocked on the door. He hated asking but…

"Can I come in?..." he called quietly, placing his forehead against the door.

You were on the verge of crying, but for a moment your brain refocused and you heard knocking as well as Bucky's voice.

He was still here? Why?

Deep down you knew this time you couldn't do it alone, that you had to talk this out but it was like your body was trapped on the spot.

When Bucky started to beg, behind the still-closed door, you felt a heavy sense of guilt washing over you, standing up right after but barely balancing on your feet.

Then you unlocked the door before you hunched over the sink, hands gripping the surface while your breath felt ragged.

Bucky was almost surprised you opened up the door, his heart clenching at the sight of you. He had never expected to see you this vulnerable.

He really was an idiot for causing you this much anguish.

He slowly stepped into the bathroom, gently closing the door behind himself.

"Hey..." he started, not really knowing what to say.

He stepped closer behind you, not daring to touch you, his heart aching again as he saw you hunched over the sink.

When you heard the faint footsteps and Bucky's voice so gentle, you raised your head slightly, the first tears were already running down your face and you only wanted to scream, but you swallowed it.

Instead, it happened in a blur, you turned around and hugged him tight, burying your face into his shirt and leaving him stunned.

You were weak, felt worse than ever and clearly in need of help.

Bucky’s heart stopped as you suddenly turned around and hugged him.

He had barely been able to register what was happening, but now he froze when he felt you against him.

His arms hovered in the air at first, not knowing what to do, but the sound of muffled sobs coming from you snapped him back into reality as if suddenly his brain and body started moving again.

So he quickly wrapped his arms around you, pulling you against him as he leaned down and gently rested his chin on the top of your head.

You didn't know how much time had passed, hell you didn’t know what time it was as it felt like everything stopped when panic started gnawing at you again.

Your head was still spinning as your fingers dug tighter into the fabric of Bucky's shirt.

And while your breath was uneven and it seemed like you couldn't hold back the tears, you felt guilt.

Guilt of putting him into this situation. Guilt of embarrassing him so much.

"Not… not your fault.." you tried, as soon as you felt his hands on your back."...I'm sorry, I was already a mess..." your voice was muffled and broken, your brain still struggling to form a coherent thought on its own.

Bucky felt his heart twist in his chest as he listened to your broken voice.

He kept his chin on your head, listening to you speak.

"What are you apologizing for?" he asked gently, rubbing his palm up and down your back in an attempt to soothe you.

"I’m at fault here, it's my fault you’re upset," he said quietly, silently scolding himself for being so damn nosy and rude.

"I was..." you croaked out then.."I had… an episode last night..." forcing your words out to explain yourself.

You were aware he probably sensed something was off when you didn’t return his calls and now you were facing the consequences of your actions.

He was your therapy companion, for God's sake you mentally scolded yourself seconds after, your brain still feeling heavy.

"I thought I was getting better..."

Bucky was slowly piecing everything together, the picture becoming clearer as you continued. He felt another wave of guilt crash over him, a cold feeling forming in his stomach.

That's why you didn’t pick up last night, that’s why you’ve been so distant.

And he had come over, intruding on your life like an idiot, making it all worse. He held you a little tighter, gently pulling you closer against his chest.

"You are getting better..." he mumbled against your hair.

You actually sob at his words and the way he was now holding you. It felt good, safe and everything you hadn't felt in ages. And that scared you shitless.

"Stealing my words here..." you said, even if your voice was broken, trying to joke as your brain started refocusing itself slowly.

You wouldn't admit it to him or anyone except your therapist, but funnily enough the proximity and the contact helped ground you and not let your intrusive thoughts win.

Even if your major trauma stemmed from touch itself.

And he was indeed helping you now.

Bucky let out a small huff; somewhere between a scoff and a chuckle. Maybe stealing your words wasn't that bad, you sounded better after all.

He felt the tension that had been present in your body slowly drain away as he continued to hold you, his hand rubbing small circles on your back.

It shouldn’t feel this good to hold you, and even less feel this protective over you.

He ignored the thought for now, gently pulling you closer to his chest.

"Do you want to talk about it…?" he mumbled quietly.

A soft broken sigh left your lips right after his question, relief quickly washing over your body as Bucky kept on silently comforting you.

You're safe. It's ok, were the thoughts that now replaced the pain in your brain, keeping you sane.

At his question, you just nodded yes, still you didn’t move an inch from where you were, body still aching, too convinced that if you let go you'd fall to the floor.

Bucky felt some of the tension drain from his own shoulders as well as you settled against his chest, the sight of you relaxing against him making his heart feel warmer.

He continued to hold you against him for a few more moments, his hand still rubbing at your back in calming circles.

But then, he did something he shouldn’t have.

He gently placed a light kiss on the top of your head, an intimate gesture of comfort.

You felt good, calmer even but when you felt the press of lips on top of your head and his breath ghosting in your hair you froze.

This wasn't right, this shouldn’t be happening… this...

You thought, as your breath hitched slightly while you pulled away, still very much shocked as you looked up at him.

"What..? Did you..?”

Bucky’s heart jumped into his throat when you suddenly pulled away, immediately missing the warmth of your body against his. And when you looked up at him, a mixture of shock and confusion in your eyes, his heart sank.

It was then that he realized what he had just done.

His heart still hammering against his chest as he opened his mouth to speak, stuttering out the first words he could think of.

"I don’t-... I don’t know what came over me-... I'm sorry-” he tried.

You took another step back, your eyes never leaving Bucky's face, watching him as he just realized what he had done.

You didn't want to be mean, to mock him or anything but this wasn't right.

"... I... listen..." you started, voice wavering a little…" we're just…in a program together… there's… there's nothing-"

Then you stumbled a little, both your hand went to grip the sink behind you to keep you upright. Still, you felt confused, mind clouded as a strange feeling grew inside you.

Bucky felt his heart ache at your words. He knew you were right, of course, you were right.

But in that moment, the realization dawned on him, the realization that he liked you. He wanted you and the thought scared the hell out of him.

He quickly reached out and gently grabbed your elbow to help keep you steady when you stumbled.

He didn’t speak for a moment, a lump in his throat as he cursed himself silently, the fear of losing whatever you both had taking over him.

You flinched out of instinct when you felt his hand touching you again.

This wasn't on purpose, you weren't scared of him but… What if he wanted more? What if he took advantage of your weak state?

That's why you were fine to keep all therapy partners distant, communicating only when needed and not meeting with any of them.

This was wrong, this shouldn’t have happened, you needed to heal not get worse.

"I… I think you should go..." you said after a few minutes, looking away."... I... I'll still help you if you… need me to.”

Bucky felt as if he had been punched in the gut as you flinched away from his touch.

The thought of you fearing him broke his heart even more, confirming every thought his traitorous brain was throwing at him. It was all his fault.

He had pushed, he had been rude and he had to go and act on the feelings he wasn’t supposed to have.

So when you mumbled the next words, he quickly nodded, letting go of your elbow.

"Yeah... yeah alright… whatever you want,” he replied as he took a step back and quickly left the bathroom.

You stood still, looking away until you heard the front door open and close, then you collapsed, knees hitting the floor.

You were trembling, you felt confused as stray tears now streamed down your face again but you also felt at a loss, like someone had stolen your breath.

The next morning you didn’t even remember how you got to bed but you had no intention of leaving it any time soon.

You had nothing much to do and with Bucky probably out of the picture, it was you, alone, all over again.

Still, out of habit in the hours that followed, you checked your phone all the same, finding nothing, as you had expected.

Bucky, on the other hand, was pissed. At himself, that was.

He kept replaying what had happened in his head, the look on your face, the way you had flinched away from him...

All because he had been too nosy, pushing you into an episode, and then on top of that, he had gone and acted on his stupid feelings.

___________________

If you got this far, thank you...more is coming as I already have 40k words about this. <3

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fayeisuppose · 1 year ago

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I’m not a ‘I can fix him’ or ‘I can make him worse’ I’m a ‘I can stare at him in adoration as he commits several war crimes and murders a family of five’

#Jason Todd #lucifer morningstar #husk hazbin hotel #alastor hazbin hotel #prince zuko #loki laufeyson #like any angsty emo trauma riddled loser bottom #jayce talis #victor arcane #dean winchester #sam winchester #bucky barnes #odysseus of ithaca #odysseus epic

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lassie-farce · 1 month ago

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maybe bucky (the winter soldier) is so fucked up (affectionate) because they thawed and froze him again so many times? like steve is mostly okay but he only was an ice cube once

#mcu #steve rogers #bucky barnes #winter soldier #yes steve is still very fucked up #(affectionate)#and has lots of traumas #to be breached #and talked about #but what do you guys think

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ghostlymarauder · 2 months ago

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also, on that same note about Bucky Barnes fanfiction

I just stumbled upon a fic that will haunt me (in a cool way) until the day I day. Essentially, the fic's about "the re-sexualization of Bucky Barnes", ergo, Bucky taking back that part of his life and claiming it as his own. And, of course, it's shameless smut after all, BUT IT'S ALSO SO FUCKING DEEP WTF

Because what do you mean I'm reading about Bucky Barnes eating pussy like a champ ™️ while I'm thinking about how hard it must be for him to give into his needs and wants because the winter soldier programming made him essentially forget what free will was like

Or having him do anything slightly sexual while having to think "oh my god he must feel so self-conscious about the arm" because, something I think we fail to realize sometimes it's that, at the end of the day, Bucky’s an amputee who requires a prosthetic.

So, now I'm going to sit down with myself and ponder about the psychological war Bucky Barnes must face every day and how it's so sick for the winter soldier to be branded as sexy or anything of the like because wtf my baby boy it's haunted by tws and that makes him enemy number one (right after Alexander Pierce) (and Arnin Zola) (and anyone involved in tws creation)

#bucky barnes headcanon #bucky barnes #james bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #marvel #the winter soldier #bucky barnes fanfiction #i was reading shamless smut fic and somehow ended up with an existential crisis #i want to hug bucky barnes so badly #i swear to god if he goes thru any more trauma i might kill someone

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sorchathered · 1 year ago

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Getting my husband to watch Triple Frontier with me

My husband- you have a type boo

Me- what do you mean?

Husband- brown haired military men with ptsd who are a little grumpy and sassy…

Me- oh so basically I pick you in fictional characters everywhere I go.

Husband- shit. 🤦🏼‍♀️

😂😂😂😂

He’s not wrong though 😂

#benny miller #din djarin #bucky barnes #bob floyd #lewis pullman #pedro pascal #garrett hedlund #sebastian stan #bonus if they have some ptsd and trauma #he’s a bit of a fixer upper #and i love it #married life #triple frontier #catws #top gun maverick #the mandalorian

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hainethehero · 1 year ago

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Steve Rogers headcanon...

I have a headcanon that because of his traumatic (and very overlooked in the mcu) past with his father, Steve is always wary of older men.

He has to keep reminding himself that he's stronger now. That he could handle anything anyone threw his way. But he can't help the flinching and the accelerated heartbeat whenever Bruce or Thor or even Clint get too close to him. Tony intimidates him - not in any kind of egotistical way - no. But he's older, and he wields a special kind of authority that sometimes makes Steve want to curl up in a ball and hide.

He feels awful about judging his friends like that. But he can't help it.

It's why he forges a close friendship with Natasha so quickly. She's safe. He can trust her. And she doesn't remind him of Joseph Rogers, though she can put the fear of God in anyone at any given time.

And Bucky. Bucky is his safe place. Always. Because Bucky always patched him up and cleaned his wounds after Joseph came home drunk and went on a rampage. Bucky always made him feel protected. To have him in the twenty-first century means everything to Steve.

Bonus: Bruce notices and empathizes with him. He shares his own traumatic past with his own father so that Steve won't feel so alone in his fear and grief.

After that, it's a little easier for Steve to be around the men on the team.

#steve rogers #steve rogers headcanon #marvel mcu #mcu #captain america #joseph rogers #comic book steve rogers #tw abuse #tw trauma #stucky #stucky headcanon #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes #the winter soldier #the avengers #clint barton #thor #bruce banner #natasha romanoff

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hurtspideyparker · 7 months ago

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The Avengers as High School Friend Group Archetypes

Tony Stark: Mentally ill friend. Made too many suicide jokes so his friends forced him into therapy. Flakes out on plans a lot. Either has a God complex or the worst self-esteem known to humankind. Freaks everyone out when he texts goodbye in the gc without context (he's just going on a business trip)

Bucky Barnes: Black cat. Hisses at everyone but Steve. Great at holding his boundaries but comes off aloof. Nobody is sure if he actually likes them but would secretly kill for all his friends. Hides in shadows and jumpscares everyone with his lurking. Secretly naps on Sam's bed when no one's looking

Steve Rogers: Mom friend. Always has granola bars, Tylenol, and a Tide to Go on him. Organizes the group hangouts and reminds everyone when they have a dentist appointment. Everyone's parents love him, "you can go if Steve's going" vibe. Constantly getting his friends out of trouble (secretly encourages them). His romantic life is a disaster

Thor Odinson: Gym bro. Eats eggs, chicken and rice everyday. Forces his friends to join him in the gym and comments about them not eating enough protein. Genuinely cares for their health, will get them out of bed for food and fresh air when they're sad. Goes through protein powder like Tony went through cocaine in the 80s

Peter Parker: Annoying little brother. Someone's mom definitely made them bring him to the big kid hangout. Everyone bullies him but he doesn't realize it, he just likes the attention from the cool older kids. Sam and Bucky hold him upside down from his ankles till he gets dizzy and Steve makes them put him down. Everyone is super protective of him when he's outside the friend group (hey, only we get to be mean to him)

Sam Wilson: Therapist friend. Gets way too many texts at 3 am. Extremely emotionally mature but laughs at fart jokes. Knows everyone's trauma and will use it against them if provoked. Strangers randomly vent to him in public. Gentle parents adults when they're upset. Nobody ever asks him how he is

Natasha Romanoff: Man hater. All her best friends are men and none of them are actually sure if she's joking about hating them. Mean but never takes things too far. Flirts constantly because she thinks it's funny but is really awkward and bad at it when she genuinely likes someone. Hates when someone treats her like a man / "one of the bros", wishes she had more female friends

Bruce Banner: Bad luck friend. Can not catch a break. Everytime they hear from him something new has gone wrong in his life. His dog threw up on his bed, his computer broke before a huge deadline, his favourite sweater shrunk in the dryer. Just a disaster of a human. Constantly has some minor injury, from inexplicable bruises to a sprained wrist. Never having a good day but tries to remain positive. Anxious

Clint Barton: Class clown. Will make a fool of himself in front of every pretty girl in his vicinity. Is actually only funny half the time, the other half he's just loudly wrong. Confidence is key for him. Can charm and talk his way out of anything. Will make everyone laugh at the worst moments. Women reject him because he has a girl best friend

Wanda Maximoff: Boy crazy. Is ready to talk about her crush, boyfriend, or situationship at any given moment. Is never single for longer than a month. Will not take shit from a man and makes sure her and her friends are treated properly. Surprisingly good at balancing her friendships and relationships, doesn't neglect people. Has Pinterest boards for her wedding, dream home, and decor. Wants to be a stay at home mom. Big Swiftie and went to the Eras Tour

Pietro Maximoff: Unemployed friend. Always doing the most random thing on a Tuesday morning. One day he's kayaking in British Columbia, the next he's joined an MLM scam. He has a new cat? He adopted him from Istanbul on that trip no one knows about. He's drinking fresh lemonade? He actually volunteers with disabled elderly and Doris gives him lemons from her tree. Knows how to cook a turkey. Unclear if he's homeless or not, usually sleeping on a friend's couch or at a random woman's place (still on the couch)

#marvel mcu #avengers #tony stark #peter parker #steve rogers #bucky barnes #clint barton #sam wilson #natasha romanoff #bruce banner #thor odinson #wanda maximoff #pietro maximoff #marvel #mcu #inspired by that sarah schauer audio “girl dad weaponized incompetance uncle trauma bonding aunt black cat neighbour...” lol #the avengers #tw suicide mention

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thatsmzbitchtoyou · 4 days ago

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The Thousand Yard Stare Chapter 2

Previous chapter Next chapter

TRIGGER WARNING

His eyes stung as the sand in the wind whipped against his face. He was dragged into a small room, cuffed to the farthest wall and searched. He could hear screams in the distance, and a strange clapping sound that he soon recognized as skin against skin. He cringed when realization hit of what was happening, shutting his eyes tight.

He was questioned for hours. He couldn’t understand them except for a few words here and there, and they became angrier the longer he stayed silent or kept repeating, “I don’t know.” The pain from the blows raining down on him seemed never ending, bruises blooming and his skin splitting after particularly sharp hits, his blood staining his clothes, his hair, and the sandy ground around him.

It went on for days. They would feed him bowls of some kind of goopy liquid that made him want to throw up, splash water on him that he would try to drink so he could keep his strength. His team would find him, they had to. He would go home. This will end soon…

The clapping sounds went on for hours each day, mixed with the disgusting grunts and groans of the men who captured him and the screams and pained noises from the women. Then one of the men came alone into his room…

“Bucky! Bucky wake up!”

“Pretty American boy,” the man leered at him.

“Wake up, honey, come on!”

He tried not to scream as the man hurt him, pulling his hair roughly from behind.

“You’re here! You’re safe! BUCKY!”

Bucky jerked awake, panting as his throat burned. His light was on, blinding him momentarily. He felt a body that was hovering over him, pushing at his shoulders and panicked. He twisted them, pinning them to the mattress, his hand wrapped around their throat and he squeezed before something bit him, making him yelp and pull away. When he focused back on the person his mind finally caught up and he recognized her.

“Y/N?” Bucky gasped. He flung himself away from her and tumbled off the bed, scurrying into a corner of the room, folding in on himself to be as small as possible. Y/N gasped for a moment, her hand massaging her throat before she quickly got up and followed Bucky. “I’m sorry,” he cried, heavy tears falling from his eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m sorry–”

“Hey,” Y/N said, crouching down in front of him but keeping herself a foot away. “It’s just me. I’m okay. You’re okay. It was just a nightmare. It’s not happening to you now.” She inched forward and her hand reached for his elbow closest to her. When her fingers touched him he flinched and his wide eyes watched her. “You didn’t hurt me. I’m fine,” Y/N said more firmly. She sat down in front of him on the floor, inching forward just a little more. Bucky’s eyes looked down at her throat, seeing a slight red ring where his hand had squeezed and he shut his eyes tight.

He felt a cold nose sniff his hair and looked at Teddy who was whining softly and started licking his tears. Bucky sighed heavily, his body slightly relaxing against the wall. Y/N’s hand moved from his elbow slowly to his hand, not making him move but squeezing it from the position it was in. “You’re at Mama’s House. You’re safe. No one here is going to hurt you. It was a bad memory, it’s not happening to you now.” She reassured him again, gently running a finger over his knuckles. “I’ve got you.”

Bucky didn’t know what came over him at that moment. He had pushed away physical contact with people as much as he could since he got home, only letting his family or people like Steve or Sam be close to him. But right then, in the middle of the night, after another nightmare reliving the worst days of his life, he just wanted…needed comfort. Bucky’s hands shot forward and gripped Y/N’s wrists and pulled her toward him. She made a surprised sound, followed by a soft “oof” as he pulled her into a hug. Her legs straddled his lap as he wound his arms behind her back, holding her tightly against him as his face rested against her chest and he cried even more. His sobs were heavy and painful to hear, and he heard Y/N’s breath stutter as she fought back her own tears as she recognized his first real, big cry since coming home. Bucky needed someone to just hold him, like how his father used to hold him when he was little. Y/N’s hands softly ran through his hair. He stiffened around her when she got to the back of his head and she stopped, her fingers moving back up his head and then down the sides of his neck to avoid the area. He focused on her heart beat, letting himself settle down and breathe along with her rising and falling chest.

“I’ve got you,” Y/N whispered into his hair.

***

TRIGGER WARNING

After that first night Bucky felt better about opening up to Y/N more. His first appointment with her for the comfy building was coming up and he was wondering if she’d tell him her experience. She had been nothing but kind and open with him, so he had no reason to think she wouldn’t. The first week at the home had been good. The other veterans were all kind and understanding without being pushy, and he appreciated how much freedom he had to do whatever felt right for him outside of the schedule he was assigned. His therapist, Dr. Strange, seemed knowledgeable and no-nonsense, which he liked. He was eagle-eyed in spotting trauma points and helped Bucky work through some major issues in that first session.

On that Friday night Bucky headed toward the comfy building, feeling trepidation mixed with anticipation. As much as that hug they shared had been for his own sanity, he secretly enjoyed it, and wondered what tonight would bring.

He stepped in and smiled at the fairy lights around the top of the walls that were turned on in place of the regular overhead lights, the smell of lavender and tea tree in the air from the candle burning on a table nearby. In one corner on a large couch sat Y/N, watching a show on the TV across the way from her. She looked over at him as he entered and smiled.

“Hey Buck,” she greeted him, pausing the show and standing. “You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” Bucky said.

Y/N huffed a laugh at him and led him to the walled off room. She sat at the couch and gestured for him to sit on the bed across from her. Bucky sat at the edge and waited. “You wanna get comfortable?” she asked. “You can lay down, take your shoes off, relax.”

Bucky took his shoes off and set them aside while pulling his jacket off. “I’ll just sit for now,” he said quietly.

“Alright. Well, honestly I’m not sure where to start with you,” Y/N said, looking at him warily.

“Why?” Bucky asked.

“Well, last week you seemed okay with me touching you, and I thought that was going to take time. Or was that just a spur of the moment kinda deal?” she said teasingly.

Bucky smiled then sighed. “I’m honestly not sure,” he said quietly.

“Can I make an observation?” she asked. Bucky nodded. “You didn’t like me touching the back of your head.” Bucky now eyed her warily, then slowly nodded. “Care to tell me why? Or would you rather I guess?”

Bucky breathed in deeply. “You said you knew how I felt. More than I could imagine. Care to tell me why?” he countered, trying to take the focus off of himself.

Y/N smirked at his candor. “I’ll tell you my deep dark secrets if you tell me yours.”

“Deal,” Bucky said quickly.

Y/N’s smirk fell from her face and she looked down, her fingers intertwining. “I’m sure while you were going through special ops torture training that you were taught about the 9 Lost Girls?”

“Yeah,” Bucky said, thinking back. “The 9 women that were captured and tortured after their base was attacked.” Y/N nodded and gave him a look, her eyebrow raising. Bucky stared at her for a moment until he finally understood. His eyes widened and his mouth dropped open slightly. “No…”

“Yes,” Y/N confirmed. “I was one of them. One of the last ones still alive, actually,” she said, her voice softening as she looked away again. She motioned to her back. “I’m sure you saw my lovely scars the day you got here.” Bucky nodded. “I was an assistant, I didn’t have any information, but they didn’t care,” she sighed heavily. “They beat us, whipped us, then when they got bored with that they raped us for days. Of course they don’t talk about that part as much in training,” Y/N said, a sarcastic tone to her voice.

Bucky’s eyes felt hot as he fought off tears. She did know how he felt, had it even worse than he did. He couldn’t tell whether that comforted or horrified him more. “I was…raped,” Bucky said. It was the first time he fully admitted it, and it hurt, his heart pounding and his ears ringing. Y/N looked up at him, her eyes conveying nothing but understanding and sadness for him. “The rest of it I could take. The punches, kicks, I’d rather eat that shit they force fed me for the rest of my life than feel that again,” he said, his voice getting louder and his breathing becoming ragged. Getting it all off his chest, off his heart, as much as it hurt, was incredibly freeing. “They were raping women all the time…I could hear them,” he said, and Y/N’s eyes closed, a look of mourning on her face. “Then one of them came to me, alone, and he…he pulled my pants down,” he couldn’t seem to stop talking, his tears falling finally and he stood, pacing back and forth in front of her. “He started touching me and I just froze. He put something on my ass, like lube or something, and then he…” Bucky’s hands gripped his hair as his face screwed up in pain. “He just shoved it in. It hurt so fucking bad,” he turned to Y/N who stood and approached him with her hands held out. He reached out and took her outstretched hands, grounding himself. She pulled him towards the bed but he couldn’t make it, his knees giving out. He kneeled down as she sat on the bed in front of him. “He left me there like that, with his…jizz leaking out of me, my pants around my feet, that’s how the team found me!” he yelled as Y/N cupped his face, making him look at her. “The looks on their faces? It was…humiliating,” he cried, his hands gripping her thighs. He cried against her like he did the week before, his head resting in her lap, but this time it was louder, filled with despair, a full wailing as he tried not to go into a full panic attack.

“He yanked your hair?” Y/N asked quietly.

Bucky nodded as he cried harder, remembering how it felt as his head was wrenched back, nearly ripping his hair out. “He called me ‘pretty American boy’,” Bucky grunted. “I…didn’t wanna give him the satisfaction. Didn’t make any noise. But it hurt…it hurt so bad.”

“I’m so sorry, Bucky,” Y/N whispered, petting his hair with one hand and the other rubbing his back as she leaned over him. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that. You didn’t deserve that, no one does,” she said. He could hear her sniffling as she cried with him.

Y/N then pulled his head up. She cupped his face again and swiped some of his tears away with her thumbs. She made him look at her and he saw her eyes red-rimmed and tears streaked down her face. “Can you trust me?” Y/N asked. Bucky sniffed, his eyes searching hers, but ultimately nodded. Y/N gave him a reassuring smile then her fingers reached up into his hair. “Keep your eyes on me,” she said quietly. Bucky nodded again, as focusing on the task was helping him start to relax. She started to run her fingers through his hair slowly, scratching his scalp. After going in circles around his head she moved towards the back of his head. Bucky tensed up and blinked rapidly. “It’s just me,” she whispered. “I won’t hurt you. I’ve got you.” Bucky inhaled deeply, keeping his gaze on her face. Y/N waited until he slowly relaxed and then scratched her way to the back of his head. She moved her fingers in small circles, then gripped his locks softly. She didn’t pull, just held his hair in between her fingers. Bucky sighed as her soft touch seemed to help that small part of him heal slowly, replacing the ripping feeling with something soft, caring, loving, and gentle.

“Please,” Bucky whispered. He didn’t know what he was asking for, practically begging for, but Y/N understood. She released his hair, gave the back of his head a short scratch, then she gripped his hair again and slowly started to tug. Y/N was slow, careful, and gentle, the tugging feeling more like a massage. Bucky’s eyes closed, more tears falling as for the first time in over a year he felt safe, an overwhelming feeling of peace oozing through his body.

“I’ve got you,” Y/N whispered again. “He’s gone. They’re gone. They’re dead, and you’re here. You’re home, safe, right here and now. Just you and me here,” she rattled off, her forehead resting on his forehead. “Thank you for telling me. I know how hard that was for you.”

Bucky exhaled and licked his lips, sniffing hard as he tried to collect himself. “Thank you,” he whispered. “For helping me.” He opened his eyes and looked up at her. Y/N slowly pulled away, and he was sad to have her hands leave his hair. “And for telling me your deepest, darkest secrets,” he half smiled.

“No problem.” She leaned back and smirked. “Can I hug you?” Bucky nodded enthusiastically, leaning forward to hug her, his arms wrapping around her torso and resting his head against her chest as she held him close. Y/N held him for a long time before taking a deep breath, Bucky copying her. Their collective, heavy exhale felt like a release. “So, will I see you next week for another session?”

“Yes,” Bucky answered immediately.

“Good.”

@wintrsoldrluvr @isitbiorisitlesbian @starfly-nicole @s-a-v-a-n-a-34

#marvel #bucky barnes #smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfic #series fanfic #chapter 2 #pow!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x curvy!reader #curvy reader #trauma

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