#I’m DOING the right thing and TRYING to go to therapy
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rafeskai · 2 days ago
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Life as We Know It — Rafe Cameron
Epilogue
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Two opposites must navigate love, loss, and unexpected parenthood to discover the meaning of family.
Summary: When tragedy strikes, two very different individuals find their lives unexpectedly intertwined as they become the guardians of an orphaned child. As they navigate the challenges of co-parenting, balancing careers, and confronting their pasts, they discover that family can form in the most surprising ways. Through heartfelt moments and unexpected humor, they explore what it means to build a life together—one step at a time.
Pairings: Rafe Cameron x Reader
Warnings: Character deaths & angst.
Author's Notes: That marks the end of this series :( thank you guys so much for all the love and feedback! I’m so proud of this series and I hope u guys love it as much as I do.
Masterlist: Here
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It had been a year since the custody battle, since Rafe and you had found yourselves standing side by side, figuring out this whole "family" thing. A year since both of you issued a restraining order against Ward, and the judge granted it. A year since you stopped pretending you didn’t feel something for him, and he stopped acting like he was too good for anyone, especially you. Now, the chaos of life had settled into a strange, beautiful rhythm. It wasn’t perfect—far from it—but it was yours.
And, somehow, against all odds, the three of you had made it work.
⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯
The morning sun streamed through the kitchen window, where you stood trying to assemble breakfast. You had learned, over time, that cooking for Willa was an Olympic sport. Every time you managed to whip together a simple meal, she somehow managed to flip the situation on its head—literally.
"Willa, no!" you heard Rafe call out from the living room. You looked up just in time to see him frantically trying to stop her from scaling the couch like some sort of tiny, diaper-clad Spider-Man. “You can’t climb up there!”
But Willa was undeterred. She gave a small shriek of triumph, her baby legs scrabbling up the cushions like she was born to conquer furniture. You had to admit, you were impressed.
"I swear she’s part monkey," you muttered under your breath, flipping pancakes with a practiced hand.
Rafe stumbled into the kitchen, his hair sticking out at odd angles, the look of a man who had given up on ever having a decent morning.
“You say that like it’s a surprise,” he deadpanned, rubbing his face. “We’ve had this conversation a hundred times. No more couch climbing. She’s already an inch away from that giant coffee table, which, let me remind you, is made of solid oak. And do you know what happens when Willa decides gravity is optional?”
You snorted. “We end up on the floor with her holding a half-empty juice box like she’s just conquered the world, while you scramble to pick up the pieces of your dignity.”
He shot you a pointed look. “Exactly.”
You set the pancakes aside and wandered over to rescue Willa, who was now attempting to climb up the back of the couch like a small, determined mountain goat. Scooping her up with one hand, you held her up in front of you. “You know, kid, you’re lucky you’re so cute, because if I had to stop doing my work every time you decided to do a backflip off a chair, I’d be in therapy by now.”
Willa gurgled, her eyes wide and innocent, as though she didn’t have a single rebellious bone in her tiny body.
Rafe leaned against the doorframe, folding his arms. “I’m just saying, if she’d stop doing that, maybe I could get ten minutes of peace. But no. We live in a house of chaos.”
You smirked, watching as Willa grabbed his shirt and yanked. “If she’s chaos, you’re the tornado that hits right after,” you teased, making Rafe roll his eyes dramatically. “Just admit it—you love it.”
He groaned but couldn’t hide the small smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah, yeah, I love the chaos. But you have to admit it’s a lot of work. I mean, who’s going to put together her tiny little rocking horse without accidentally breaking something?”
“Not me,” you said, raising an eyebrow. “I’m pretty sure I broke that rocking horse three times already.”
At that, Rafe laughed, running a hand through his hair. “Alright, I’ll take that as my cue to fix it. You keep trying to make breakfast, and I’ll figure out what’s going on with the toy horse that’s apparently haunted.”
Willa babbled in your arms, and you kissed the top of her head. “I’m not saying this to be dramatic, but I’m pretty sure she is a secret agent in training. I’ve seen her figure out how to break into places she’s not supposed to be like she’s in a spy movie.”
Rafe raised an eyebrow. “Spy movie? She’s more like a tiny burglar who knows how to manipulate you with her big eyes and unstoppable giggle.”
You chuckled, nodding. “Fair. But I still think she could make a killing in espionage. Maybe we should start saving for her college fund in case she ends up needing a fake passport.”
Rafe grinned, his mood visibly lightened by your banter. “I’m pretty sure we’re going to need therapy more than we need a college fund. But I’ll get started on that fake passport idea, just in case.”
You grinned back at him, feeling that familiar warmth settle in your chest. There was a time—just a year ago—when you had no idea what your future would look like. Now, here you were, a family, even if it didn’t look like any family you had ever imagined.
“Well,” you said, turning back to the pancakes, “we better get our act together before she eats all the syrup by herself.”
Rafe snorted and shot you a grin. “You think she’s not going to try that already?”
⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯
Later that day, after Willa’s nap (which, let’s be honest, was more of a battle than an actual nap), you and Rafe found yourselves in the backyard, taking a breather after the chaotic lunch you’d just survived. Willa was happily playing in her little sandbox, tossing sand like it was confetti at a New Year’s party, while you and Rafe collapsed onto the porch swing, exhausted but content.
"How the hell did we get here?" you asked, your voice quiet, more to yourself than to him.
Rafe leaned back with a sigh, staring up at the sky. "I’m pretty sure we got here because you’re too stubborn to admit you love me," he said with a grin.
You nudged him with your elbow. "Excuse me, but it’s not just me that’s stubborn. Have you seen the way you try to resist her puppy-dog eyes? You can’t even handle Willa when she does her sad little face, and you know it."
He groaned. “It’s my kryptonite. I’m weak. I’ll admit it.”
“Good. Because that means you’re finally accepting that she’s the boss around here. We’re just along for the ride.”
Rafe chuckled, nudging you back. “If that’s true, then I’m okay with it. Besides, she has the best team behind her, right?”
You smiled softly, watching Willa scoop up a handful of sand and drop it like a tiny little sandstorm. “Right. And we’re the best team for her.”
There was a pause, a quiet moment where both of you watched Willa. The future was still uncertain—life always was—but for the first time in a long time, it didn’t seem so scary.
“Well,” Rafe said, standing up and stretching, “I guess we better go make sure our future crime boss doesn’t eat the sand. You know, for her health.”
You snorted, laughing as you stood too. “You mean for the safety of our sanity?”
“That too,” Rafe said, laughing as he grabbed your hand and pulled you into a warm hug.
It wasn’t perfect, but it was real. And for once, that was enough.
⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯
And so, life continued. Chaotic. Messy. Full of love. Your newfound family was far from conventional, but it was undeniably theirs—and somehow, that made it all the more beautiful.
Plus, Willa? She’d definitely grow up to be a world-class agent of chaos, and Rafe and you would have to learn to live with that.
But at least you’d be together.
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© 2024 rafeskai | All rights reserved. This fanfiction is a work of fiction inspired by characters from Outer Banks, and no part of it may be reproduced or distributed without permission.
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violenteconomics · 2 days ago
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so it’s pretty popular in this fandom for the overblotters to have a support group going on, and that’s all well and good and we’ve got a lot of amazing stuff out of it (shameless segue into compelling you to read the “girls in wonderland” series by the lovely jxnebug on ao3, please, it’s awesome), but can you just. like. imagine for a second that everybody else has a support group too, because goodness gracious, do the people who have to witness the overblots need so much therapy.
like. i imagine that it starts off with the first-years and their weekly ramshackle hangouts, and then they all start venting to each other about all the trauma they’ve gone through in the past year, which, thanks to yuu, becomes an unofficial, very unqualified support group.
ace: hey. i’m ace trappola. during my first week at night raven college i had to wear a collar around my neck at all times and didn’t even get to sleep in my dorm, which is probably for the best, because i couldn’t really sleep with that stupid collar anyway. i slaved away making a chestnut tart to apologize to my housewarden with, only to have my apology literally thrown into the trash. and when my best friend tried to stick up for me, they got called stupid and undereducated. and my other upperclassmen just enabled him. i almost got killed twice in that week, and many more times afterwards.
deuce: hello, i’m deuce spade. and i promised myself that i would become the best person i could be for my mom, only to fall short of my own expectations every single time, except for when i literally sign my soul away. i had such high hopes for my housewarden and upperclassmen to guide me to a better future, only to come to the realization that they’re even more flawed than i am. so, basically, there is nobody who can help me now, and i’m doomed to the path i made with my own hands.
jack: this is so unnecessary. jack howl. basically what deuce said, but combine that with the fact that, when you first met, your upperclassmen didn’t have any problems with getting rid of you if it meant their path to victory was assured. your dormmates will never admit that they’re wrong and sooner rip your ear out than say they like you to your face. but you care a lot about them, and deep down, maybe they care a lot about you, too. but the only thing they can do that would prove that in your eyes is improve themselves. become better. be the people you thought they were when you got here. and that is the one thing they will never do.
epel: howdy. my name is epel felmier. my housewarden is all about personal improvement. he’s right to think that i need to rework my thinking about gender and strength, because they are not equal in any way. other than that, though, he has no investment in me as a person. i’m not allowed to eat whatever i want. if he tells me to perform, that’s what i do. if i slip up even a little, he scolds me for being lazy. my posture must be perfect, my diction clear, and my hair flawless. he puts the same pressure on himself to be perfect, so it’s not like he’s a hypocrite. but that’s the thing, isn’t it? he likes me for the things i do — and he hates the person i am.
ortho: hello, world. my name is ortho shroud. not the real one, though. i’m just a poor simulacrum of him that my big brother forged from the flames of his grief and the metal of his self-loathing. but even though idia put his soul into constructing me, i can never truly be the person he wants me to be. my only purpose, and i can’t even do it correctly. for almost my entire life up to this point, idia loved his dead brother more than he loved me, and i just had to be okay with that, because the nature of the STYX organization mean that i didn’t have anybody else. and the one time i tried to change that, i corrupted my brother and almost ended the world.
sebek: greetings. i am sebek zigvolt. i nearly perished recently. the prince that i admired so dearly tried to put everybody to sleep, and in trying to stop him, i very nearly lost a dear friend of mine to the secrets hidden inside his father’s brain. the whole time, i felt distinctly out of place. it was like i was watching one of those soap operas master lilia loves so much. only ever looking. never touching. right before me was a broken family that i only wanted to see come back together, but i couldn’t fix it. for it was not my family to fix. i was helpless. useless. but that is nothing new.
yuu: …hi. i’m yuu. i was ripped out of my home and isekai’d into this world that’s filled with mentally unstable magic people who tried to kill me more than a couple times. i am currently living paycheck-to-paycheck while going to school full-time thanks to a crow who doesn’t know how to adult. and clearly, we all have a lot of work to do.
this goes on for a couple of weeks with just them, but then sebek decides to invite silver, because he’s prolly not doing so hot post-book 7 (and also, silver is basically the freshmen’s official big brother at this point, let’s be real) and then silver invites kalim a few weeks later, who invites ruggie, and then it just sort of snowballs out of control from there.
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iflakepod · 3 days ago
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Therapeutic.
“Fuck, im late!” She rushes out of the house, trippin over shit. She’s around 10 minutes late to her therapy session.
Again.
She gets in her car and speeds to the office, attempting to avoid any late fees and charges. “Good afternoon, you can sign in right here” The young lady says behind the desk. She quickly fills out the paper and sits down in the waiting room, waiting for her name to be called.
“Hey, you can come on back.” The woman says, holding the door for her. She walks her to her therapist office. “Hello!” The therapist says as he sits up in his chair. “Hey, I’m so sorry that I’m late again.” She says as she slowly sits down on the couch. “Oh no, everything’s fine.” He says. She stares at the floor and starts bouncing her leg.
“How are you feeling…I can tell that something’s been bothering you” He says in a soft tone. She takes a deep breath, preparing herself to unpack the bullshit that’s been happening for the past 2 weeks. “It’s just like… I don’t even know where to start.” She says, looking around the room to calm herself down. “Start with whatever you feel comfortable talking about.” He says.
“Wednesday, I walked in on Shaquan with another girl.” She states. Then she sits there, staring at the wall. She tries her hardest not to process the situation.
“I’m… so sorry that happened to you.” He says sincerely, tilting his head slightly to the right. He comes from behind his desk to sit in front of her. “What did he say when he saw you standing there?”
“He didn’t.”
“He didn’t see you?”
“Nope”
“Wow, so he doesn’t even know that you know…” He says in a state of realization. “No he doesn’t. It’s so hard to act like I don’t know what’s going on.” She says. “I understand.”
“Yeah, it’s even harder trying to act like I don’t want to fucking kill him” She says, still staring at the wall. “Now you know we can’t say things like that.” The therapist says in a calming tone. “Well, how are you feeling in this exact moment?” He asks her.
“I feel like I want to hurt him. I want him to feel the same way I felt. I want to do it back to him” She says angrily. He slowly stands up and walks over to her. He sits down on the large couch beside her. “Would you like me to help you with that?”
He starts to slowly inch closer and closer to her face. She inches closer and closer to his. They kiss, slowly. Immediately, her insides start to get warm. Her intimate places start to tingle. While they kiss, he slides his hand down to her pretty pussy. As he rubs her swollen clit, he sticks his tongue in her mouth. She moans into his mouth as she’s being pleased. He slips his fingers inside of her. She starts whimpering as he moves his lips down to her neck. “You want it?” He asks her.
“Mhmm” She moans as his fingers are still inside her. He lays her back on the couch and slides her skirt up. She lifts her legs up to her face. He drops his pants and lines his dick up with her pussy. He leans down to her face. “You ready?”
“Yes”
He collapses on her, then slowly starts stretching her pussy. He’s grinding into her. She’s creaming everywhere. Her jaw drops as he lifts up and starts going faster. “Baby…” she says softly, attempting to stay quiet. “Hm?” He questions, staring her in the face. “It feels so fuckin’ good” She whispers. He drops his face down to her neck and starts sucking. “That’s my spot..” she whimpers. “I can tell, you gettin so fuckin wet” he groans in her ear. “I want to taste you” He says softly in her ear as he pulls out of her. He drops down to her womanhood. She’s soaked. He holds her legs up and starts sucking her clit, slowly. “Baby im ‘bout to cum all in your mouthhh” She wines as her orgasm approaches. “Please cum baby” he pleads as he licks her pussy.
Her mouth falls open as her pussy starts to pulsate. “What the fuck..” she says softly as she cums. Her body tenses up and she starts squirting. “You taste so fucking good” He says as he sits up. “Turn over baby”
She turns over and arches her back. He grabs her hips and slowly enters her pussy. “Fuck i feel so full” she moans. He starts going faster, drilling her in. “You like that feeling baby?” He questions, wanting to hear her loud response. “Yes babyyy” she whimpers, trying to stay as quiet as possible. “Let it the fuck out.” He says while smacking her ass.
Her whimpers grow louder and louder. “I know baby, i know” He says softly as his climax grows near. “Nut in me baby..” she says as she starts to throw her ass back. “Fuck im cum-“ His orgasm rips through him. “Oh fuckkk” He groans as he empties his thick cum inside her pussy.
They both take deep breaths, staying in their position.
“How are you feeling now?” The therapist questions.
“Better” She answers.
Tags: @henneseyhoe @miyuhpapayuh @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @nayaxwrites @hearteyes-for-killmonger @henneseyhoe @wide-nose-and-wonderful
Idk, this one is alrightttt 🤸🏾‍♀️
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elfie4306 · 2 days ago
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Arcane S2E9 Reactions
Ok, first thought, she had to carefully arrange her hair like that. 
MEL YOU GOTTA KILL YOUR MOM
I actually have no idea what Ambessa is trying to do, like why is she doing this? 
STOP I HATE THESE THINGS THAT WAS ACTUALLY TERRIFYING 
Oh my god these poor sisters just keep getting taunted with Vander
oh i know we’re not doing parallels right now
“But you were never broken Viktor” I’m gonna kill myself. 
Ok I need to pause it and just sit with my emotions for a second. It’s the “But you were never broken, Viktor. There is beauty in imperfections. They made you who you are. An inseparable piece of everything I admired about you.” 
I’ve rewinded to that part several times now. I’m ready to continue watching. 
Also, his face :(
VIKTOR??? BRO PLEASE I’LL CRY RIGHT NOW 
“ALL I WANT IT MY PATNER BACK stop im soppobing.  oh my god its so gay bro stop pushing him awy theyre gonna kiss right? I mean i wanna kiss him but I’m hapy for jayce to make him happy too. this is going to take over the next forseeable future of my life. 
VI I”VE BEEN CRYING FOR SO LONG NOW LET ME BREATHE< JINXX JINX POWDER OH MY GOD WHAT THE FUCK I THOUGHT IT WAS OVER kill me now. vi. wait are they dead too? Jayce and Viktor? i cant breathe right now bro the sobs are gonna suffocate me. “our story isn’t over” shut the fuck up right now. i don’t think i can do this anymore. also i totally missed cait’s eye getting fucked up. 
“What did you think?” I think I’m not going to cut down on my therapy like I was planning. 
My head hurts and my neck is sticky from the tears.
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thedungeonbat · 15 hours ago
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christmas cookies & biology revision🎄
Only had one lesson today so I spent the rest of my morning reading :) Started baking Christmas cookies after lunch and then drove to the gym for my ta lesson. To my surprise I only had to prepare the equipment and then chatted about my library shift so I used the rest of the lesson to go though my biology notes again. Exam is tomorrow and I feel both well and horribly prepared. I’m feeling too unwell to study right now so let’s see what happens tomorrow…
Overall feeling not too great, I’ve been way too anxious today. The deadline for my term paper is making things worse; I considered scheduling a therapy appointment for Wednesday but I do not want to bother my therapist on short notice so we’ll see if I can cope well enough or if I’ll get myself to text them…
Now: trying to distract myself by reading or watching tv (show/movie/book suggestions appreciated<3)
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just-rogi · 9 months ago
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insanechayne · 16 days ago
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~ ~ ~
#for the last couple days whenever I try to talk to partner about something more serious I’m feeling/thinking they just acknowledge that#they read it and then just blow it off. like putting a sad face emoji to show they read my message and then sending 💕 which is our#indicator for ‘don’t want to/can’t talk right now’. and if they were at work I’d understand but then they don’t try to let me talk later#when we’re together either. and this has even been happening at times where they’re home on a day off. I get maybe not having the energy or#capacity to let someone vent or complain or whatever but at the same time… we’ve been together a year and a half and we live together now#and they’re supposed to be the person I can count on to let me talk and help me feel better if I’m depressed or sad or anxious or whatever#I would do it for them and I do actually do it for them whenever they need me to because I believe that’s what a good partner should do#and yeah my problems are not very serious but they’re still a big deal to me and making me sad/upset and I want to be able to talk about#them outside of just going to therapy once a week. therapy is great and all but emotions aren’t programmed to just line up with a session#I’m still going to think and feel things during the rest of my time outside of therapy and need support and I’m just not getting it now#but what am I supposed to do? try to force them to listen to me? that wouldn’t be fair to either of us#guess I’ll just be stuck alone with my thoughts as usual#personal
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reflectionsofgalaxies · 3 months ago
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good lord my brain is running laps and i just wanna knock it out and get some goddamn sleep
#apparently just bc I figured it out my brain still isn’t gonna chill out#now i’m stuck between do i communicate and embarrass myself#in hopes that it calms down the fears that i’m already aware are probably irrational#or do i do my best to ignore it and hope my brain chills out on its own soon#and that in the meantime i don’t do my go-to moves when i overthink something#which are running away or getting mean#(not like. mean mean. but snarky. and a little harsh and irritable)#bc no one has done anything wrong!#myself included so far!#my brain just will not let go of this stupid fear#and it’s the same fucking fear that has haunted me on and off through every era of my life#i WILL NOT isolate myself or push people away that’s wildly counterproductive#and honestly i find it mind boggling that that’s even a response bc IT MAKES NO SENSE#anyway everything is changing and it’s fucking me up big time#there’s too many things changing all at once and tbh i’m fucking terrified#and this just happened to be the thing that finally pushed me into ‘cant fucking deal with this’ territory#and nothing has even changed! it’s all in my head right now!!!#it’s so fucking frustrating to know something intellectually but your emotions are off doing their own shit#‘you can’t think away emotions’ I CAN FUCKING TRY#it comes down to fear and anger at that fear and anger at change#i’m so angry and there’s nowhere to direct that anger#being angry at a concept or the very passage of time is just so unsatisfying and annoying#*change as a#personal#i’d say sorry for the vent posts but i can’t afford therapy so#and this is the next best thing
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floral-hex · 4 months ago
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One of my brothers is moving away to college today + I have to skip therapy, so it’s a lot of… a lot. a lot.
#he was just a baby! he was just a little kid I carried around and took care of!#no nope. not gonna get into it right now. I WILL cry. it’s not even 6am and I do not need that right now#and I don’t really know if therapy today would really help#if I got into it I’d just start crying in front of this nice dude for an hour#though yeah… might be nice to.. I dunno… just talk about it.#I am always simultaneously ‘therapy is good’ and ‘what’s the point in talking about it?’#so maybe I do need that person that’s like ‘this is your time. just fucking talk.’#but also right now it’s like… talking about it won’t take me back to when my brother was little and far off from leaving#blegh…#whatever. anyway. it’s gonna be a sad day. I’m gonna cry A LOT. I’m gonna be alone in this apartment and just sooooobbbbbbing#and then keep this inside for another week before I can go to therapy and talk about this bc god forbid I talk to a family member about it#ok now it’s 6am. I think he’s leaving in about 4 hours. it’s cool. it’ll be cool. 😎 I’ll just miss my bro so dang much#but maybe I’ll walk down to the dollar store and stock up on snacks and I’ll get blasted and fatter and try to stay positive#uggghhh#I’m too emotional#time just keeps moving for us all. to my dismay.#’time is the fire in which we burn’#you can ignore this#I don’t think I’ll ever have kids. I’ll never have kids. and being there. with him. with my brothers. that was the closest I’ll ever get.#and it’s over… so… 🤷🏻‍♂️… it’s just done… they’re grown. and I’m still here. I don’t know what else to say…#but that’s life. they’re doing their thing. I’m happy for them and I want them to be happy too. I’m just a big crybaby#IAN!… stop typing!#just making myself sad at this point#it’s fine. it’s fine. I’m fine. I’m cool. everything’s… cool 😎#this isn’t important#text
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mutalune · 4 months ago
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on one hand I am very glad that ketamine therapy has been helpful for my severe depression and anxiety and ptsd and whatever else is going on up there, and I’m grateful that it’s available to me as part of my treatment plan
on the other hand I’m not a huge fan of the payment for that help being a 50/50 chance every time of having a bad trip that unlocks some deep scary part of my psyche and then having to address all of that in therapy until the next trip
#starlight personal#ketamine has saved my life and also scares the fuck out of me tbh#like I went into this trip being all ‘love and kindness gotta be nice to myself’ and it went ‘yes BUT -‘#and shoved me off a cliff into years and years of repressed existential anxiety and reminded me that I’ve had that since I was Very Small#bro please I just want to not off myself I don’t need to be unpacking deep childhood trauma rn I’m trying to buy a house#how am I supposed to buy a house when I now have to grapple with Deep Pain being brought to light#I was going to talk about house anxiety in therapy this week but that has now been derailed for -#I Am Terrified of the Universe and Always Have Been and Do Not Know How to Cope With This When It’s Not Repressed#and I do truly believe if it came up in treatment that it means it’s time to deal with it and learn to handle it#but like…….. I would’ve liked to be asked#not just thrown into the scariest psychedelic trip of my life and then left to pick up the pieces#anyway this is all to say that I’m once again cursing my genetics for not letting SSRIs work and leaving me with psychedelic woo-woo shit#like what do you mean I can’t take a pill and ignore some of this deeper shit what do you MEAN I have to face it#ketamine is very I Will Shine a Light on the Things You Have Hidden Whether You like It Or Not For Your Own Good#thank you I guess but right now I’m a bit grumpy about it#on the brightside I am hopefully going to be less depressed for the next two months until it wears off again so we love that!!!#hahahaaaaaaaaaa it’s fine we’ll be fine this will be good for me in the long run#what’s peace like I wonder I’ve certainly never known it
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rosicheeks · 6 months ago
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😢
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fingertipsmp3 · 11 months ago
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Btw I’ve never talked to an actual medical doctor about my mental health issues so I have no idea how to go about it. Lol
#never been to therapy never been medicated. i just freeball my reality and my emotions and my mind#i did go to grief counselling briefly but the guy who did that was a volunteer. i mean i assume he had a certificate in something and he#absolutely did help me but he couldn’t diagnose or prescribe#i want to be diagnosed and prescribed if at all possible but i don’t know how and i don’t know if they will. i don’t know how to approach it#i mean i guess i should first address the biggest problem i’m having right now which is my mood swings and suicidal thoughts#i am worried though. like will i get sectioned if i mention the latter#like i don’t think i’ll actually do it and i specifically want help because i DON’T want to do that. but is me reassuring them of that#going to be seen as a red flag. because…#i also really don’t want to spend the whole time sitting there crying unable to talk but i probably will because i can’t talk about my#personal problems because my whole life whenever i try my mom screams at me until i stop#especially if i’m calm or apologise to her in any way. it just seems to make her angrier#it’s just like. i’m ngl the thing that’s probably helped my mental state the most was being on microgynon but i didn’t enjoy the other side#effects; and also my blood pressure is too high for it. and like.. i don’t need to take a birth control pill when what’s wrong with me#is my mood. like who cares if it’s just because of hormones. treat it all the time anyway#idk. idk! i don’t know what happens when you talk to doctors about this kind of thing. i don’t even know how bad my symptoms are#for all i know i’m entirely mentally stable. OR i could have ten disorders. i don’t KNOW#personal
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I actually really fucking hate how anything in my schedule not going the way I initially Intended For It To just automatically makes me a massive fucking crybaby and or a raging bitch. Like dude. The grocery store does not hate me. It sucks that my schedule requires me to get there an hour earlier no matter what but like. They didn’t do that to me. Why am I always so upset whenever I have to change plans. I change plans too! I’m a living person!!! Why am I so fucking upset about this!!!!!!
#personal#im gonna delete this later I’m just venting#I’m also fine I’m just having a rough day and I can’t figure out why my emotions have been so fucking volatile. It’s so frustrating that#I can’t figure out how to get a handle on my emotions. I know I need to feel things but the problem is if I let myself feel them too much#Then I’m going to spiral or lash out at some random bystander and both of these make the initial feeling worse#I just can’t pull myself out of that quickly enough recently. It’s not an issue of ability bc I can. I just can’t do it.#wait that’s contradictory. I’ve been really struggling too recently. There we go. There’s accuracy.#Either way. Didn’t I spend all year in therapy last year trying to get this shit together? What the fuck.#Why is it the second I show a modicum of progress I immediately hit a single pebble on the road and get sent ass over teakettle#Progress isn’t linear but it also sure as hell isn’t meant to be a time loop. That I’m pretty sure of.#God everything’s just been so difficult this year. Shit that used to be almost instinctual to me now is a nightmare.#Maybe it’s growing pains and I guess that’s valid but how long do I have to have them#The good news is that thus far I have not snapped at anyone so at least right now we don’t have any casualties of my bad attitude#I feel so bad being so worried about that but like seriously no one needs me to be snapping at them. Even if I feel catharsis in the moment#We all feel bad immediately afterwards#It’s literally not even been a bad day today. I cannot emphasize how this has been the only problem today. Literally so much good happened#Ugh#dont look at me
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bunveh · 2 days ago
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I’m so glad my exams are finally over bc I can at last cut my long term friends off since I have so much free time now.
#people think that I will ALWAYS be there simply because I tolerate how much they use me for their therapy and never even ask if I’m ok when#it’s sooooo obvious I somehow seem to always get progressively worse in terms of physical and mental health#and so ! because of my MH I haven’t been able to talk to most people at all#like I’d get a panic attack at the thought and I’d just have to close the app and just calm myself down#and my heart … it would hurt so bad from how my anxiety which already makes me gag uncontrollable and jolt awake from how violently I’m#trembling somehow my heart started to hurt so bad to the point I felt I was going to die soon#so I genuinelyyyyy couldn’t even talk to anyone#I’ve always wondered that if I stopped texting first if people would even notice#these past six months proved that no they wouldn’t#even the person I’ve been friends with for 8 years btw didn’t care#we used to talk daily#when she was in hospital I always checked up on her more than anyone even tho I couldn’t visit the hospital I’d always send her messages and#try to yk help to my capacity and stuff#but she had replaced me by another girl kinda and she stopped talking to me after I stopped talking first bc of my health issues#and the saddest part is that barely anyone out of all the people I’ve tried to befriend ever spoke to me anymore#this has been one of the loneliest periods of my life-the fact that I am useless apart from temporary entertainment and a person to waste#time with ? in fact I’m barely considered for these options in general#anyways so !!! I just gave up ! beforeeven the thought of cutting someone off I’d need to genuinely be held at gun point for someone to make#me cut off a bad person but now although I’m quite stressed still I’m lowkey ok with cutting off ppl#just bc of how absolutely horribly I’ve been abused and treated by all of them#sorry for being annoying I just needed somewhere to note this down I HATE being negative but all my life is negativity no matter how much I#distract myself with the very very few things I like (I only kinda like on thing here now … and even that I’m forcing myself to like it a#little …) so yeah I always feel guilty for saying these things and making these posts nobody has any idea how bad the guilt is but what else#can I do ? I don’t know …#like I have only ever confronted people TWICE my whole life not bc I’ve not been abused I’ve actually been really badly taken advantage of#consistently and without fail at every stage of my life but I don’t say anything bc I’m worried they’ll get upset#the reasons I ever said anything at the end is bc those ppl made me so suicidal more than usual and yeah … I Can cut them off right?#whatever whatever it doesn’t matter now my existence amongst them isn’t liked it seems anyways so why would they care if I left ?
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toastspirit · 5 months ago
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I wonder if my brother remembers that one time he told me that I’d never survive in the real world
Because I think about it pretty often
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aquaticmercy · 14 days ago
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Sleeper
Summary : When Bucky falls in love with the antihero he’s sleeping with, he offers her a place in the Thunderbolts*.
Pairing : Thunderbolts!Bucky Barnes x antihero!reader (she/her) 
Warnings/tags : Violence, death, sex (a prominent theme but not graphic), cursing. Borderline obsessive behaviour. Congressman Barnes as per the Thunderbolts teaser. Batman/Catwoman-like dynamic. (Let me know if I miss anything.)
Word count : 6.5k
Note : This fic was genuinely written because of the van scene in the Thunderbolts trailer. That’s it. That’s how down bad I am for Thunderbolts Bucky. Reader is an antihero called ‘Sleeper.’ The Thunderbolts are referred to as ‘the team.’ The reader and Bucky first met a little bit before FATWS. I also have a cap! Sam fic coming out soon because my god. I am drooling over these two. Enjoy!
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Bucky first heard of your existence in whispers.
He had heard your codename in hushed tones when he got off the ice in Wakanda, after Shuri helped rid his brain of the trigger words that haunted him.
Several of the Dora Milaje had crossed paths with you in Ivory Coast, and they had told everyone in the palace about how terrifyingly efficient—and violent— you had been. They said you finished the job before they even got there.
Your codename was nothing but silent rumours by those on the fringes of the intelligence community. They called you ‘Sleeper’— it wasn't a name you chose for yourself, but you have chosen to embrace the fear that people associated with it. 
You were an antihero, a vigilante who left rivers of blood in your wake.
Four years ago, you started tracking down the same corrupt officials and Hydra remnants that Bucky was trying to arrest.
The difference: Bucky set out to turn them in, you had your heart set on killing them, fast and efficient, as you always have been.
The first time you crossed paths with the former Winter Soldier, it was in a crumbling KGB safehouse in Eastern Europe. Bucky had taken down most of the guards, ready to haul the high-ranking operative to a jail cell in DC where he can await his trial. He was tired, the strain of therapy and sleepless nights holding him down, but this mission kept him focused.
But when he reached the operative’s office, the target was already slumped over his desk, cold and lifeless. 
"Guess I beat you to it, soldier," you said, voice laced with a confidence that made his stomach twist. You let him process the sight of you—fitted black suit, gloved hands, and a smirk that told him you were not only dangerous, but damn well aware of it. A mask obscured your eyes, but even with half of your face covered, he could see how smug you looked.
“I didn’t ask for your help,” he said, voice low.
“Good thing I wasn’t asking for you permission.” You tilted your head, the ghost of a laugh in your voice. You were watching him, sizing him up with those sharp eyes that felt like they could through see every part of him he tried to keep hidden. 
“Sergeant James Barnes, right?” You said his name with a familiarity that sent a jolt through him. “I’ve heard a lot about you. Never thought I’d actually run into you, though. Lucky night for me.”
He narrowed his eyes, not trusting this mysterious stranger, though he couldn’t deny he was intrigued. “And you are…?”
“I have no name to claim for myself,” you shrugged, leaning back against the wall, “but people call me Sleeper.” You let the name linger, knowing he’d recognize it. 
His memory reeled back to Ayo and the Dora Milaje, who had warned him of you: ruthless, volatile. A ghost who disappeared without a trace, always a step ahead. He’d just never expected Sleeper to be… so easy on the eyes.
“I didn’t ask for your help.” He repeated with no conviction. He narrowed his eyes at the body. “Especially not like this.”
You shrugged, pushing off the wall and strolling over. “Relax, soldier,” your gaze met his, “I only go after the ones who deserve it. Just because I do it my way doesn’t mean I’m the villain here.”
“Still doesn’t make it right,” he muttered, but there was a flicker of curiosity underneath his stormy blue eyes.
“Then stop me,” you challenged softly, leaning close enough to feel his breath. “If you can.”
His breath hitched ever so slightly.
You grinned, a spark of intrigue lighting up in your gaze. “I’ll be waiting, James.”
And before he could respond, you were gone.
He knew he should’ve stopped you— but some part of him was glad he hadn’t. 
As you disappeared, he felt something he hadn’t in a long, long time: excitement.
From that day on, Bucky couldn’t get you out of his head. 
At first, it was frustrating. You were hard to track, ruthless—and yet there was a sickening righteous principle to your actions that he couldn’t deny.
As the weeks went by, something else rooted in his brain when he thought of you. Fascination. 
His mind often wandered about you during his quiet, sleepless nights, wondering who you were beneath the mask, beneath the mystery and the whispers.
Sam noticed, of course. He'd raise an eyebrow whenever Bucky lingered too long over case files where you'd been mentioned. He’d nudge if he seemed overly eager to volunteer for missions that involved your typical targets.
“Maybe you’ll get lucky and she’ll show,” Sam teased once, nudging Bucky. “She’s dangerous, though. Is that your type?”
Bucky scoffed, but he knew Sam was right. And maybe that danger was part of what kept him intrigued.
The next time you crossed paths, it was in a dark alleyway, both of you dripping with sweat and breathing heavily after taking down an underground fighting ring. 
“You know,” he’d said, “killing them doesn’t make it justice.”
“You think turning them in is enough?” Your voice had cut through the air like a knife, but there was no malice behind it. You wanted him to understand your line of thinking, wanted him to know. “People like them are everywhere. They’ll get out. They’ll come back.”
“So you think you get to decide whether they live or die?” he challenged, jaw tight.
“No,” you said, readjusting your mask. “But I do it anyway.” There was a flicker of sadness in your gaze that he noticed, even if you tried to hide it.
What had happened to you? He thought to himself. What have you been through?
In that moment, he noticed the pain behind your eyes, the kind of pain he knew intimately. You weren’t just someone who killed for vengeance; you must have had your reasons. You must have carried scars that ran deep, maybe deeper than his.
From that point on, Bucky made it a habit to look for you on every mission. It was like an unspoken game, this cat-and-mouse chase. Every time he saw you, the tension between you grew. 
Sometimes, he’d get there first, managing to intercept before you could execute the target. Other times, you’d arrive at the same time. He’d try to talk you out of it, to make you see things his way, but you’d laugh him off, the kind of laugh that hinted at more than your fair share of heartache. 
And sometimes, you’d tease him, push boundaries he wasn’t sure he should cross.
“You like this, don’t you, James?” You’d whisper it low, close enough for him to catch your scent, a faint hint of gunpowder and vanilla perfume. “The chase. Getting to play the hero while I get my hands dirty.”
He wanted to deny it, but he couldn’t. 
Bucky grew obsessed, even if he wouldn’t admit it. Every encounter left him more and more drawn to you. He’d search for files on you for days on end without sleep, but all he found were reports with no concrete evidence. He found himself looking for excuses to track your movements, hoping he’d be there to stop you but not quite sure he wanted to succeed.
One night, after another close call, you leaned into him as he pushed you up against the wall. He could feel the heat radiating off you, the electricity charged in the space between you. You looked up at him, the smallest hint of vulnerability peeking through your mask.
“Why do you keep doing this, James?” you asked, voice softer this time. “You can’t save me.”
“Maybe not,” he replied, frowning as his eyes looked down to the edge of your lips, “but I can try.”
That night, he wondered just how long he could keep up this dance before one of you finally gave in.
One night, while you were on a caper in Prague, everything changed for the two of you. 
The mission had been bloody, chaotic, and a little too close to mayhem for Bucky’s liking. You had taken down an entire network of arms dealers, setting fire to one of their last remaining munitions blocks and leaving it to burn. 
Bucky had arrived too late, frantically trying to contain the chaos you’d left in your wake, alerting local authorities, making sure the flames didn’t spread to a nearby market.
When he caught up to you, adrenaline ran hot through his veins. 
He'd followed you through winding streets and up dark staircases, up to the hotel you were holed up in. He followed you into your room, locking you both in.
His voice was tight, anger simmering beneath. “You’re careless.” His blue eyes were striking underneath the european moonlight, “you could’ve taken out half the neighbourhood, and for what?”
“I got the job done, James.” You shrugged, trying to look unbothered. “It’s not pretty, but it works.”
He stepped closer, and you held his gaze, “You know, I’d turn you in if you weren’t so…” he paused, his voice faltering, as if the words were lodged in his throat, “Weren’t so…”
Your pulse quickened. “If I weren’t so what?” You snapped, daring him to finish, to admit what had been hanging between you two since the day you met.
But he didn’t answer. Instead, he pulled you into a fierce, bruising kiss.
You didn’t hesitate—you kissed him back with just as much fire, your hands tangling in his hair.
Bucky’s hands found your waist, fingers digging in with enough pressure to leave marks. He pushed you back until your shoulders hit the wall, lips moving down your jaw, then hot against your neck. His breaths were ragged, matching your own, and he was holding you as if letting go would mean losing control entirely. 
You couldn’t help the gasp that escaped your lips as his mouth found a sensitive spot on the dip in your collarbone, his hands roaming possessively over your back, down your sides.
You pulled him back to your mouth, desperately needing that connection. 
When you finally broke apart for air, his forehead rested against yours. You untied your mask and threw it across the room.
Fuck. he thought as his eyes widened, taking in your full facial features for the first time. You were even more beautiful than I imagined you to be. 
Fuck, fuck, fuck, he thought to himself, I’m done for.
He was ready to throw you in jail cell. Instead, he ended up in your bed.
That night, in the dim light of your cheap hotel room, clothes were shed in hurried, frustrated movements, and all that pent-up tension finally found its release.
That first time had been desperate, raw. Both of you were driven by the need to let go, to feel something other than the weight of the cold blooded kills and the darkness you both carried.
Ever since then, every time you crossed paths, it was the same: adrenaline-fueled clashes and heated conversations about morality turned into hotel room rendezvous, hands grasping, lips colliding, both of you seeking the kind of solace you could only ever find in each other. 
You’d never admitted it out loud, but Bucky had an effect on you. When he was around, you found yourself hesitating just that split second longer before slicing your target’s arteries and leaving them to bleed.
You didn’t feel the need to wipe out every enemy anymore, and his disapproval of your methods had started haunting you in ways you’d never expected. Maybe that was why you’d started allowing him to find you more often, taking on jobs you knew he’d be there for. 
It was a dangerous game, but you kept playing it. He was obsessed with finding you, and you weren’t about to stop him.
He’d learned to read you better, your patterns, the places you tended to show up. By the time you landed in some city on the opposite end of the globe, he’d be there like clockwork, showing up right before you finished a job, confronting you before you could disappear into the night.
But the nights you spent together were… different. 
You never asked about each other’s pasts; you kept it in the here and now, keeping him at a safe distance even as you let him pull you under the covers time and again.
Every time he asked your real name, you’d smile and brush him off, deflecting his curiosity with a kiss or a teasing answer. He didn’t press, but you could see the questions in the way his brow furrowed, could feel the affection in the way he lingered in the mornings after, with a soft smile in his eyes that made your heart beat faster.
Each time, he told himself it was just catharsis, just a release of frustration for both of you, nothing more. But that excuse had worn thin over the years, and Bucky knew it as well as you did. 
He knew it wasn’t one sided either. He wasn’t blind to the way you’d look at him as he drifted to sleep next to you. Once, he caught a flicker of something vulnerable in your eyes before you put the walls back up. 
And God, was he drawn to you, to the side of you that fought so fiercely, that showed just enough vulnerability to keep him coming back. He was so fucking desperate to understand you better, to see more of the person underneath the mask.
One night, after a mission in Manila, you’d both ended up in a small, worn-down cheap hotel room overlooking the city lights. You were leaning against the headrest of the bed, a hint of sweat clinging to your skin, breathing still unsteady as you came down from the high you gave each other.
He watched you, his gaze lingering on the barely-perceptible rise and fall of your chest. 
“Don’t look at me like that,” you muttered, voice thick with exhaustion. There was a tremor in your tone, a flicker of something vulnerable that he wasn’t sure you meant for him to hear.
“Like what?” he asked, nuzzling closer to you. His now long hair was tied back in a low bun, your hair tie holding it together because he didn't have one of his own.
“Like you want something from me that I’m too broken to give,” you said, refusing to meet his eyes. But he reached for you, tipping your chin up until you had no choice but to look at him, and there it was—that flicker of affection he knew ran just as deep in you as it did in him.
“Maybe I want it anyway,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with a quiet intensity. “You ever think of that?”
“This is just a release, James.” Your gaze softened for just a second, long enough for him to catch it before you shook your head, pulling yourself from his grasp. “It’s just something we both need.”
Even as you said it, you weren't convinced. He reached for you again, pulling you close, and kissed you because that was the only thing you’d let him do.
You melted into him once more, you found yourself wondering just how much longer you could keep him at arm’s length.
The shift in Bucky’s life had been as dramatic as it was unexpected. You’d never pegged him for politics—neither had he, to be fair—but here he was, representing his district, looking sharp in a suit that cost more than the last few hotels you’d met in combined. 
He’s upgraded. Freshly elected, polished up, all suited and respectable as a congressman, fighting for reform from a marble office by day and for justice in dark alleys by night. 
But tonight, with that half-smile he only gets with you, he’s still the same— still carrying that simmering tension in his lips, his hair tousled from a long night of pursuing you through the shadows. 
After a mission that had you both knee-deep in an abandoned bunker hunting a rogue assassin, you found yourself together once again. Only this time, the hotel he’d booked was far from cheap. 
He brought you to a five-star suite. The bed was massive, the sheets soft, and the view from the window sprawled out over the city skyline, a stark contrast to the dingy rooms you’d gotten used to. 
Now, lying beside him in the rumpled silk sheets, you watched him catch his breath. You moved off of his lap to lay next to him, euphoric from the guilty pleasure you both indulged in. 
“You know, the second someone finds out Congressman Barnes has a relationship with a violent vigilante, you’re out of office.”
He looked over at you, eyebrows raised. “Relationship?”
Fuck. He caught you slipping up. He caught you thinking about a relationship with him.
“Casual sex is still a relationship, James.” You shrugged, trying to save face. You turned to him, with a lazy, unconvinced smile, “Strings attached or not, it counts.”
He shifted, the corner of his mouth twitching as he watched your wall break, even if only one brick at a time. “Casual,” His fingers traced idle patterns along your bare shoulder. “Is that what we’re calling it?”
“Unless you’re pretending you don’t want it anymore.” You paused, leaning closer, “Or maybe you just like that I could ruin everything. That I could say one word to the press, post one picture online and your reputation is finished. You’d be back to square one.”
He chuckled, his fingers grazing down your arm. It was terrifying, how comfortable he’d become with you. “I trust that you wouldn’t,” he said softly, voice laced with that steady confidence, like he knows you better than you know yourself.
His declaration hung in the air, and you felt guilt striking in your chest.
This wasn’t supposed to be part of this arrangement. Trust was for partners, for couples, for people who wanted things that lasted. 
You shook it off, leaning back, a little smirk tugging at your lips as you lifted a brow. “You’re right. I do have a soft spot for you, Congressman Barnes,” you added, the title rolling off your tongue with a touch of sarcasm, “Consider it my gift to democracy.”
He laughed, letting his head fall back against the pillow. His hand drifted down to catch yours, holding it in a way that felt too natural, too comfortable for what you were supposed to be. 
You both knew, despite the banter and the invisible boundaries, this thing between you was already past casual. It was the reason he keeps showing up where you showed up, the reason you’re letting him into your life in ways you never let anyone before. You were both just too stubborn to say it.
He pulled you closer, pressing his lips to yours in a way that feels almost… affectionate. For a moment, you let yourself sink into it, forgetting the consequences, the danger, the fact that this man might just unravel you completely and you would have no say in it whatsoever.
When you pulled back, his fingers trailed over your bare waist. “Maybe it’s more than just a soft spot,” he suggested, his voice barely above a whisper.
You raised an eyebrow, heart beating out of your chest. “Let’s not get sentimental, James,” you brushed, letting your fingers graze his jaw as you murmured, “You’ve got an image to protect, after all.”
He lets out a sigh that’s part laughter, part frustration. He knew you were deflecting. “Right,” he said, brushing his lips against yours again. 
“You and your image,” you chuckled, “Out there, shaking hands and making speeches about justice while you sneak off to hotel rooms with someone like me.”
He grinned, not a trace of shame in his expression as he turned his gaze back to you. “Someone’s gotta keep you in line. Even if it takes…” His voice lowered, dropping into that deep, teasing tone that made your stomach knot. “…a hands-on approach.”
You rolled your eyes. “You’re the last person who’d ever get me in line, James.” You leaned closer, though you didn't believe a single word you said. 
There was a long silence for a while. He eventually reached out, brushing a lock of hair back from your face, his thumb tracing over your cheek.
“Maybe you’re right,” he murmured, his eyes never leaving yours. “Maybe that’s why I keep coming back.”
As the city lights cast a faint glow over the room, you lay there in silence, limbs tangled together in a way that felt a little less no strings attached every time.
The next time you meet, you were on a late-night operation on the dark outskirts of the city. You’ve tracked down a group of mercenaries. They’re as ruthless as they were careless, leaving a trail of devastation across the criminal underworld. But tonight, their recklessness will end with you. 
You moved through in silence, precise, methodical. One by one, you took them down, not killing, but incapacitating them. Your fists were quick, your strikes precise. It’s what you’ve done for years, a grim pattern of efficiency that never required a second blow. Just as you reached the man who hired them with your knife drawn—a local crime lord—you felt his presence before you saw him.
“Think twice, Sleeper,” Bucky said from behind you.
You froze, heart pounding as you stood over the crime lord begging for mercy. It would be so easy to end this now, but with Bucky watching, you hesitated.
You lowered the knife.
Instead of killing him, you tied him up alongside the other mercenaries, ignoring the questions in their fearful eyes. Bucky made a call, alerting local authorities to pick up the mess you’ve left behind.
“What now?” you asked, walking away from the carnage. You were expecting the usual pattern: another hotel room, a brief reprieve from the violence, nothing more. 
But he surprised you, lacing his hand in between your fingers, warm and secure. 
He had never, ever, showed affection outside closed doors.
“Come with me.” 
You didn’t expect Bucky to take you back to his place, but soon you were standing outside a sleek high-rise in the heart of the city. You followed him up to his penthouse apartment. It’s almost disorienting— the polished floors, the floor-to-ceiling windows.
You found yourself standing in the quiet entryway of his home. The walls were painted in light, earthy tones, and the furniture was clean, modern, yet warm.
You glanced around, taking in the small details that hinted at Bucky's life beyond the missions. There were bookshelves lined with novels and memoirs, some old and looked like first editions, others barely touched. A few black-and-white photographs decorated the walls—New York City at dusk, a forest path, a beach sunset. It was an oddly peaceful place for a man like him. Certainly too peaceful for someone as broken as you.
“This is risky, James,” you said, looking up at him as he closed the door behind him, “Showing me where you live.”
“No, it's not,” he replied, his conviction absolute. “I trust you.”
There it was again. That word. Trust. The thing you never quite knew what to do with, especially coming from him.
You studied the way his favourite leather jacket was tossed on a chair, a half-read book by the couch. It felt like stepping across an invisible line. You set your mask down on the table before he grabbed your waist and pulled you close.
“This feels like crossing a boundary, James,” you admitted. You knew he should pull back, give you a chance to retreat. But you didn't want him to.
So he didn’t.
Instead, he cupped your face as he tilted your chin up gently. “What boundary?” he asked.
He knew that there were nothing separating you two. Not anymore.
The space between you vanished as his lips met yours. You kissed him back, losing yourself in the process of tasting him. His hands slid to the small of your back, pulling you closer. Kissing him felt like falling— like surrender.
You made your way to his bedroom, bodies tangled together, a blur of heated whispers and gasping breaths. Clothes fell away, discarded like old skin. The way he looked at you, it was like he was memorising every inch of you.
In that moment, you realised: the boundary had never been there. Not for him. Maybe not for you either.
The room was quiet as you lay tangled up in Bucky’s sheets. The duvet smelled like him, unlike the neutral, sterile scent of the usual hotel sheets. 
You’d never admit it, but it was intoxicating. 
The satisfied pulsing in your body had put a hazy filter over everything. 
Bucky smiled softly, kissing your forehead before reaching to his bedside drawer, pulling out a small glass box, placing it gently on your palm.
"Here," he murmured, almost shyly. He opened the box to reveal a hair tie inside. 
Oh. You recognised it. The ends were a bit frayed, the colour faded.
It was the hair tie you’d given him in Manila, a lifetime ago, a little piece of you that he’d tucked away in a corner of his home
You blinked, caught off guard. "You still have that?"
He shrugged, but his eyes wouldn’t meet yours. Was he… embarrassed? "I thought it was... worth keeping."
"Careful, James,” you couldn't help but tease him, nuzzling closer into his arms. “Keep this up and you might just start falling in love with me."
You felt his breath hitch.
He looked up, finally. Nervously.
Instead of denying it, he leaned closer, his voice dropping to a low, warm whisper. "Would that be so bad?"
His fingers brushed against yours, sending a shiver through your spine. Your heart fluttered irregularly, your head spinning in a daze as you tried to keep your thoughts down.
No.
You couldn’t let him see that he was getting to you like this, so you did what you always did: you deflected, grinning forcefully and rolling your eyes.
"Yeah, right," you said, brushing off the moment. As much as it broke your heart to deny the truth, you were doing it for his sake and yours. "I'm not that easy to love, James."
He chuckled softly, the warmth of his breath brushing your skin as he pulled you closer, tucking a stray hair behind your ear. "Maybe that's why I do." 
You shifted away from him, wrapping yourself in the sheets as if they could shield you from what he was offering — and from the ache in his gaze. 
"We can’t…" you said, voice barely above a whisper. "We can’t do this."
Bucky's eyes darkened, but he would be alright. He expected this from you.
He sighed, running a hand through his hair as he tried to collect himself. You could see the struggle in his eyes, the battle between his desire for you and something else… there was something bigger. 
"I need to tell you something," he said quietly. “I have… a team.”
That caught you off guard. 
Bucky? On a team? He’d always seemed like a lone wolf, just like you. 
“There’s a couple of former Widows, who you’d get along with. Two other super soldiers. And someone who can… phase. Quantum experiment gone wrong.” He paused, “We’re trying to make something real here. And it’s missing someone.” His fingers trailed down your forearm, eventually clasping your palm in his, “It’s missing you.”
He pushed a strand of hair behind your ears, trailing your jawline delicately with his metal hand, “I need you.”
The invitation went unanswered for a moment. You swallowed, caught off-guard by how badly he seemed to want this, how he wanted you to be part of it.
“I work alone, James,” you said, brushing off the offer with a small, bitter smile. “You know that.”
“But why not?” His voice was barely more than a whisper. “Why won’t you let someone else in for once?”
The frustration in his tone was raw, and for a moment, you thought you saw a flicker of pain flash across his face from this rejection.
“This is your chance to do something good the right way,” he pressed, and there was a quiet urgency in his voice. “No more hunting down bad guys with no direction. No more living like you’ve got nothing left to lose.”
His words sank in, and your walls felt shakier than ever. The idea of leaving the past behind, of actually building something… you hadn’t let yourself imagine it in years.
“Just think about it,” he said softly, placing his forehead on yours. “You don't have to decide now. Just… consider it.”
You gave a noncommittal shrug, but the truth was that his offer echoed in your mind, louder than you wanted to admit. He smiled at your dismissiveness, recognizing the crack in your armour. He didn’t push further. 
You realised that for the first time in a long time, you weren’t entirely sure if you wanted to say no.
The next time you saw Bucky was in the middle of a mission neither of you had wanted. 
Just a week had passed since you’d spent the night in his apartment. Since then, you had told yourself you shouldn’t return. You couldn’t. You were getting too close, feeling too much.
It was getting dangerous.
But then Bucky had reached out to you, voice tight and desperate, the kind of desperation that stripped away all his pride. It was a vulnerability even you hadn't seen from him before. His team was in over their heads, he’d said. He needed you. 
You’d agreed to help, but you’d been careful to remind him that this was a one-time thing. One mission, and that was it.
But then everything went wrong.
It happened so fast, you barely understood how everything had gone wrong. 
You were with Bucky, fighting side-by-side, the two of you moving as if connected by some invisible thread. 
You had taken a blow, separating you from everyone else. You tried standing up but fuck! The impact had shattered your ankle, sending a searing pain through your leg. Your nerves were on fire in a way they had never been before.
You couldn't move. 
You couldn't get up. Couldn’t run.
And then the ground shifted, an explosion roared from behind, and the next thing you knew, a van was thrown across the road, hurtling straight toward you.
For a single, frozen heartbeat, you realised this was it. 
It was over.
You saw the faces of bystanders staring from the sidewalk, their eyes wide, too horrified to look away. You let go of the cold steel of your knife still gripped in your hand. The acrid taste of smoke on your tongue intensified. And the truck—a wall of twisted metal hurtling closer, closer, impossibly fast.
You’d spent so many years brushing so close to death that you always thought you’d be ready.
But now, all you felt was regret.
Regret that this was how you’d die: in the middle of a cold, empty street, surrounded by strangers who would never remember you, never know who you were or what you’d done. 
Alone. 
You thought of Bucky in those last seconds—his quiet smiles, the way he’d look at you like he could see through every wall you put up, the silent crutch he’d offered without expecting anything in return. Bucky, who’d trusted you, who’d somehow cared for you even after everything you’d done. 
For the first time, you felt regret for every life you’d taken, every person you’d left to die in your wake.
Your life had been nothing but survival and bloodshed. You had told yourself it was necessary, that it was the only way. But here, now, with your own death inches away, it all felt hollow.
You’d given up hope, abandoned the idea of redemption long ago—because you were too broken.
And yet, with Bucky, something had changed. He had looked at you and somehow seen past it all. He’d made you feel as if maybe, just maybe, you were something more than the ghost you’d become. Maybe, instead of running, you could have found a way to fight for something real, something that mattered. 
Maybe you could have been someone better. 
You would never know now.
The world narrowed, and you braced yourself for the inevitable, hoping it would be quick and painless. Your fingers tightened, clinging to the memory of him in those last, precious seconds as you waited to feel the impact—
But it never came.
Instead, there was a rush of air, a deafening crash, and then—silence. You blinked, dazed, your heart still hammering, and when you looked up, Bucky was standing there, his metal arm outstretched, braced against the van that he’d deflected away.
He turned to face you, his expression raw, worry carved deep into his features as he scanned you, checking for injuries. For a moment, he just stared, his breathing uneven, as if he’d been the one facing certain death.
“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice panicked.
You tried to answer, but the words tangled, caught in your throat. You managed a nod, barely able to process what had just happened. 
“Shit,” he kneeled next to you, “Is your ankle broken, can you walk?”
You stared at him, trembling as he tore a part of his shirt and wrapped it around your injury for support.
Bucky had saved you. He had thrown himself in front of a hurtling vehicle without a moment of hesitation, as if your life were worth that sacrifice. 
He had saved you.
You were alive because of him.
Alive, when you’d already accepted that you were going to die alone.
No one had ever done that for you. No one had ever saved you—not like this, not without asking anything in return. Hell, you never thought that you deserved to be saved.
“You’re okay, Sleeper,” he said, his voice softer now, like he was reassuring himself as much as you. “I’m here.”
His words settled into the cracks that had broken open inside you, filling them in ways you hadn’t thought possible. You hadn’t realised how empty you’d felt until now, how long you’d carried the weight of loneliness, of believing that this life—this endless, solitary fight—was all you deserved. 
Bucky made you feel like maybe, just maybe, you didn’t have to be alone. That maybe, even after all you’d done, there was a place for you outside the shadows.
“Don’t call me that,” your voice trembled, “I don’t want you to call me Sleeper anymore.”
Bucky stopped for a second, confused. “What do you want me to call you, then?”
You couldn’t hold it back anymore. Something inside you broke, raw and vulnerable, and the name you’d hidden for years slipped from your lips before you even realised it. Your real name—your last, fragile piece of self you’d kept locked away, hoping one day you’d be able to reclaim it. 
It felt right with Bucky, like you could trust him with it, like you could let yourself be seen.
Bucky’s eyes widened, his face softening as he repeated it, almost reverent, like he wanted to remember how it felt to say it. 
Hearing him say your name, like a prayer, like it was sacred, like it mattered— tore down whatever walls you had left. He’d given you something you didn’t know you could have: the feeling of belonging to yourself again. The feeling of belonging to the world again.
Without thinking, you wrapped your arms around his neck, fingers shaking. He moved, pulling you closer. His touch was grounding, steady—a lifeline that anchored you to the moment, to this fragile reality where you didn’t have to be alone anymore. 
You pressed your lips to his, but this kiss was different— it wasn't casual or sexual as it has always been. This time, it was gentle, carrying something other than desire, something precious and fragile. 
Something worth nurturing.
When you finally pulled away, he looked at you lovingly. 
“I’ll join you,” you said, the words coming from some deep part of you that had been waiting for someone to give you this chance, this choice.
Now you realised that this choice was yours all along. All you had to do was take it.
And you did, because maybe, instead of running from yourself, you could find a way to make things right. Maybe you could fight for something greater than yourself.
For the first time, wrapped in Bucky’s embrace, you believed that maybe you could be someone worth saving.
A month later, you were all gathered around a small campfire, tucked away in a quiet corner of nowhere. 
The night was cool, the fire warm, and laughter bubbled up from the group as you shared bits and pieces of each other's lives. 
“Team bonding,” John had said.
John passed around a nearly empty bag of marshmallows, Alexei poked at the fire, and Yelena and Ava exchanged eye rolls at everyone else’s antics, though they leaned closer together under the same blanket.
Eventually, the conversation drifted, as it often did, to you and Bucky. 
“So… how did the Winter Soldier and Sleeper even meet?” Yelena asked, raising an eyebrow as she threw another marshmallow into her mouth. 
The moniker you had adopted still twisted in your stomach every time you heard it, but it had lost its edge. This time, you felt in control. Like you owned it.
"I have theories,” Alexei nodded, crossing his arms, “but I have to know."
You shared a look with Bucky, a small smile creeping on both your faces. “There was a Hydra agent we were both after.” you began, biting back a frown. “And… well, I was angrier back then.” 
He placed his arm on yours, a comforting gesture.
“You wanted him alive,” you said. “I had… different ideas.”
“After that—” Bucky wrapped his arm around your shoulders. “—She was all I could think about. I kept showing up wherever she was, trying to figure her out.” 
“So basically,” John said, trying to hold back a laugh, “Bucky is a bit of a stalker.”
“A stalker?” Bucky echoed incredulously, “I think the word you’re looking for is ‘dedicated.’” 
“No, no,” Ava interjected, “you followed her everywhere did you not? ‘Stalker’ is the right word, Barnes.”
“Fine,” he admitted jokingly, “But what can I say? It was love at first sight.” 
Yelena gagged theatrically and John clutched his stomach in a fit of laughter.
Alexei just chuckled and muttered something about “American romance.” Ava made a face, disgusted but secretly amused.
You couldn’t help but laugh along with them, leaning against Bucky’s shoulder, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath. You could see him out of the corner of your eye, looking down at you with a quiet smile.
In some way, this still felt too good to be real.
For the first time, you realized you’d found exactly what you’d been missing all along. A home. Maybe even the closest thing you’ve ever had to a family.
A place where you belonged.
And you knew, looking at all of them—especially at Bucky—that this was just the beginning.
-end
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