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keyboardsmashess · 21 days ago

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The Siren, or The Heart of the Matter

Chapter Twenty Seven: The Fuck-Up, or The Road so Far is Full of Mistakes

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OFC

Warnings: language, eventual smut, fluff, angst, canon-typical violence, implied abuse MINORS DNI. A/N: *clears throat* Sing it with me, now - angst angst angst angst angst angst everybody! Also, the second title of this chapter is a reference to the show Supernatural. I'm as big of a nerd as Cleo is ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Summary: Cleo and Bucky take turns being real bad at feelings.

Chapter Directory

I have half a mind to ignore the knock on my door when it comes, interrupting my very important laying-on-the-floor-in-an-anxiety-spiral time. In fact, I try to, but it comes again - firm and clear - so I huff a frustrated grunt and climb to my feet.

When I open it, Bucky is standing there. I sigh deeply. “Bucky, I appreciate whatever it is you’re trying to do, but I think we should just call it a night.”

He rocks nervously on his feet. “Did you know that I didn’t enlist?” he blurts out, completely ignoring what I’ve just said.

“Wait, what?”

“Yeah,” Bucky says. “I was drafted, actually. Steve was always the gung-ho patriot… I just wanted to go to college.”

I take a step back and open my door wide. “Alright, come in.”

He nods and makes for my couch, pausing to stare at the framed photos I recently hung on the wall above my kitchen table. In the center is the picture we took on our shopping trip - Bucky with his head tipped back in laughter and me grinning widely at the camera. He smiles softly at it before shaking his head and continuing on to the couch.

I sit down on a chair opposite him, giving myself some distance. “So you wanted to go to college?”

Bucky nods, nervously clasping and unclasping his hands, watching his own movements intently. “I did, yeah. Don’t know what for, but I thought I’d figure it out when I got there. Instead, I got drafted.”

I look at him with a tender expression. “I’m so sorry, James. That isn’t fair - you should’ve gotten to go to college.”

He finally meets my eyes. “No - I mean, thank you, but that wasn’t my point in telling you. I’m just trying to say…” He rubs a hand roughly down his face, a gesture I’ve become quite familiar with. “What I’m trying to say is that sometimes shit happens that’s out of our control, and it ends up changing things. I got drafted, shipped off overseas, fell off a goddamn train, and ended up frozen and brainwashed by HYDRA with this thing.” He holds up his metal arm. “If I’d gotten to go to college like I wanted, I’d never have been turned into the Winter Soldier.”

I nod, not really understanding where he’s going with this, but wanting to hear him out all the same.

“As much as I want to say I’m the same person, that nothing’s changed, that would be a lie.”

I sigh, understanding washing over me. I pause for a moment before speaking. “You know, I fucking hate it when people say ‘everything happens for a reason.’”

Bucky frowns. “I never said -”

I hold up a hand to let him know I’m not done, and he nods. “I fucking hate it, because it feels like the kind of thing you say to someone who’s gone through something major when you’re too uncomfortable to say anything real. And it’s a complete lie - sometimes things happen for no other reason than people are shit, and make shitty choices. And then we,” I wave a hand between the two of us. “We have to deal with the fallout of those choices, even though we aren’t the ones who made them.”

I put my fingers to my temples, resting my elbows on my knees. “It’s stupid of me to think that knowing about Robert wouldn’t change the way you see me. But I’ve been living my whole adult life dealing with the fallout of his shitty choices, and sometimes I just get sick of it and want one single thing that hasn’t been impacted by what happened.”

Bucky nods. “I really do understand that, Cleo.”

I smile sadly at him. “I know you do.”

“Does knowing about the Soldier change how you see me?”

I sigh. “I see what you’re doing, Barnes - you’re not sneaky.” He chuckles. “Fuck, of course it does. But not in a bad way - I just… I feel like I know you better, the more I know about the Soldier, and…” I wipe at the corner of my eye, shocked to find a tear spilling out. “James, it makes me so fucking proud of the man you are right now, knowing how hard you had to work to get here.”

Bucky blushes furiously, but doesn’t try to hide his face. “Then you understand how I feel about you.”

I stand and pace over to my kitchen table, bracing my arms against it. My crystal is glowing, my eyes are leaking tears, and I just know my face is as red as Bucky’s. “I really don’t like this mushy stuff.”

“But you’re so good at it,” Bucky says sarcastically, chuckling.

I roll my eyes and turn back to him. “So… What do we do now?”

Bucky shrugs. “I seem to recall asking you about a show you recommended before you took off earlier.” He walks over to me and holds his arm out.

Though my mind is screaming at me to shut things down again, I decide to try taking my therapist and Meg’s advice for once.

I accept the olive branch and grab the crook of his metal elbow, linking our arms and walking with him to my door. “It’s called Supernatural, and it’s fifteen seasons of absolute madness. It’s a pretty big undertaking.”

Bucky nods, peering down at me. “I think we can handle it.”

“Fifteen seasons though.” I whistle, opening my door. “That’s a lot of hours to be stuck with me on the couch, Barnes.”

“I know,” he says, looking ahead. My door closes behind us as we start the short distance to his room. “That’s most of the draw.”

I grin and look down.

“I also just think ghosts are pretty cool.”

I laugh and nudge him with our linked arms, and he nudges me back. Bucky’s nudge is significantly harder, though - however unintentional that may be given his super strength - and he’s forced to yank me back to save me from falling into the wall. I stumble over my feet and collide with his side, and he takes the opportunity to reposition his arm, unlinking it from mine and wrapping it around my shoulders.

I inhale a gasp of air at the rapid succession of events, exhaling it slowly to gather my nerve. As we walk, I lean my head against his chest just like that night on his couch, and Bucky responds to the movement by holding tighter with his metal arm. Neither of us says a word as we amble down the hall, but the silence is comfortable - easy, even.

As we near Bucky’s door, Steve’s creaks open and I freeze. I expect Bucky to withdraw from me, to school his face into that familiar, icy mask, but he doesn’t.

“Hey, Buck, I was just going to -” Steve falls silent when he sees the two of us and presses his lips together tightly, clearly hiding a wide smile.

I force myself to look at him squarely, as if nothing is out of the ordinary, hoping to the gods that I’m not blushing as furiously as I think I am. I glance at Bucky out of the corner of my eye, and he’s grinning confidently - almost cockily - at Steve. In this moment, I completely see the ladies’ man Bucky used to be. Still is, if I’m being honest with myself.

Steve clears his throat, eyes dancing with barely-controlled glee as he observes his best friend’s face. “I was just going to tell you,” he continues, “that I’m grabbing something from the common room and then turning in.” He gives an obviously fake yawn, stretching his arms overhead dramatically. “I’m pretty tired, so we’re going to have to rain-check those plans. Sorry, Buck.”

Bucky’s arm tightens marginally around my shoulders, enough for me to feel it but not enough for Steve to see it. “No problem, man. Get some rest.”

Steve nods. “Yeah, great.” He raises his eyebrows conspicuously. “Have a good night, you two.”

I open my mouth to explain, to deny that there’s a ‘you two’ happening here, but Bucky speaks before I can. “Thanks, we will.” Steve’s grin breaks through at that, and he turns quickly and walks down the hall toward the stairs to the common room.

We turn back to Bucky’s door and he leans closer to my ear, making me shiver slightly. “I don’t think I even had plans with Steve.”

I chuckle as we enter his apartment, the door closing behind us. “He was definitely acting weird.”

Bucky unwinds his arm just long enough for us both to settle on the couch, replacing it as soon as the blanket is covering our laps and I have the remote in hand. “Yeah,” he says, looking at me instead of the television. “He’s never been the best wingman.”

I look down at the remote, refusing to ask what he means by ‘wingman’ as I navigate through the menus. “So listen,” I say to change the subject. “Before we begin, I need you to know that this show is absolutely, insanely ridiculous, and also if you say a single word against it, I’ll have no choice but to smother you with your new throw pillow.”

He laughs. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Good,” I say, wiggling so my back is leaning against his chest a little more comfortably. Bucky makes a small noise at the increased contact, but quickly adjusts his arm in kind.

We start the show, and even though I don’t know what the hell this thing is between us, I do know that I never want it to end.

******

“I don’t know - what if it ends up raining?”

Bucky takes the umbrella out of my hands and sets it next to where he’s sitting on my bed. “Cleo, it’s one night. If it rains, I’ll buy you a damn umbrella.”

I roll my eyes, turning back to my closet and thumbing through my clothes nervously. Bucky has agreed to help me finish packing for our trip to Culver tomorrow - a choice he likely now regrets. Since our impromptu sparring match and subsequent heart-to-heart a few nights ago, we’ve been nearly inseparable, spending almost every spare moment watching TV, going on walks, reading books aloud to one another, or just talking. I still have no idea what we are, but I know I’m a fan of whatever it is. I like to think Bucky is, too.

I pull out a thick winter coat and hold it up against myself, looking in the mirror to gauge if it still fits. Bucky sighs and stands, walking over to me and gently taking the coat out of my hands and hanging it back up.

“Cleo, you have no reason to be nervous. You’re gonna do great, the committee is gonna love you, and we’re gonna come back to the Tower and celebrate the fact that I’ll be able to call you Dr. Cleo Blake.”

I grin wryly, looking down at my hands. “I do like the sound of that.”

He guides me away from my closet and shuts the door behind me. “Does that mean you’re ready to stop panic-packing random things? Can we close your suitcase?” he asks hopefully.

I bite my lip, thinking over everything I’ve already packed, and Bucky makes a weird sound. I flick my eyes to him and he shakes his head. “Sorry, something caught in my throat.”

I sigh and nod. “Alright, fine. Close the suitcase, Sergeant Barnes.” He repeats the weird sound and moves quickly toward the suitcase, zipping it closed with his back to me. “Do you need some water?”

He shakes his head quickly. “Nah, I’m alright. So. You’ve packed everything you need. I’ve packed everything I need. Does that mean we’re ready?”

“Unless you think I need my snow boots,” I say teasingly.

Bucky pales and places a firm hand on my closed suitcase. “Absolutely not.” I laugh, and he raises an eyebrow at me. “Should we see what Sam and Dean are up to since we finished packing early?”

I bite my lip and shake my head. “I actually think I need to do something physical,” I say, blushing when I hear the unintentional double meaning. “I mean, like a run or sparring or whatever. Just to get some of this nervous energy out before I break something accidentally.”

He sighs. “Cleo, I’m serious - you have no reason to be this nervous.”

I look up at the ceiling. “I know, but… just with everything that’s been going on lately, The Philosopher and then the files and everything we talked about… It’s a lot, and I think I’m starting to feel overwhelmed. I - I’ll just be glad when this defense is over and I have one less thing to worry about.”

Bucky’s face looks conflicted for a moment, wavering on the brink of concern, before settling on a crooked grin. “Yeah, okay. Let’s spar. I’ll even go easy on you.” I roll my eyes, smiling back anyway. As always.

******

We circle each other on the mat for a few seconds until, to my surprise, Bucky makes the first move. I barely dodge the swing of his arm, ducking at the last possible second.

“Gotta be quicker than that, Barnes.” I aim a kick at his side, hoping to throw off his center of gravity, but he catches my foot in the air and pushes hard, sending me stumbling back. I manage to turn on one foot, catching myself before I fall, but I’m breathing a bit hard.

“What were you saying about being quicker?” he snarks, a smirk on his handsome smug face. I roll my eyes, but he robs me of the chance to respond by rushing toward me and feinting with his left arm. I know this move, though - it’s one of his favorites - so I block the hit from the right with my forearm and land an open-palmed strike to the center of his chest with my other hand.

It’s my turn to smirk as he scowls. “Hit,” I say, voice deceptively light.

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbles, and I laugh. High on the successful strike, I run at him, and when he ducks to avoid the head blow (just like I knew he would), I take advantage of the momentarily shorter target to leap up onto his shoulders, wrapping my thighs around his neck in the move Natasha taught me.

I squeeze just tightly enough that his breathing is restricted but not cut off. “Ready to tap out?”

Bucky grabs at my thighs and I hold tighter, ignoring the heat pooling in my center at his touch, but his superstrength is obviously superior and he manages to pry apart my legs. Knowing I’m about to be unseated, I try to push backward off his neck to land on my hands in a backhandspring, but he holds firm.

He twists me around until we’re face to face, and for the briefest moment we both just stare at one another, breathing hard. His pupils dilate, and I feel a blush rising on my cheeks. He shakes his head and throws me off, allowing me to execute the flip I’d tried a moment before. When I land back on my feet, we freeze - eyeing each other.

I see an unmistakable heat in Bucky’s eyes, and I’m struck by the realization that I’d be an idiot if I didn’t think whatever’s been going on between us has been building to something. At least, I realize that I hope it’s been building to something.

He clocks my moment of hesitation and distracts me with a flurry of blows aimed at my head, forcing me to block with my forearms and lose the ability to see what he’s doing. Bucky sweeps at my feet with one leg, and I grab at his moving arm as I fall, hoping to keep myself upright. Instead, though, he’s thrown off balance and we both tumble to the mat, Bucky landing squarely on top of me.

He braces his metal arm against the mat, keeping most of his weight from falling on me - something that would have undoubtedly knocked the wind out of me. I blink up at his face just a few inches above mine, mouth open in a surprised ‘o,’ and a delicious warmth worms its way through my stomach.

Bucky’s pupils are completely blown, and without even thinking about it I reach a hand up to brush some hair away from his eyes. He shudders at the touch, never once taking his gaze off me.

My eyelashes flutter, and I look up at him from beneath them. “James…” I murmur. Is this really happening? Do I want this to be happening?

His eyes are hooded as he looks down at me. “Cleo?” he whispers.

And before I can think better of it, I lift my head up, closing my eyes and the millimeter’s distance between us at the same time.

The moment our lips touch, I can feel the crystal in my chest warm, its glow bright enough that I can see through my eyelids. Bucky pauses for a moment, completely still, and then he’s moving - kissing me hungrily - like he’s wanted to do this as long as I have. I thread my fingers through his hair and his right hand traces the edge of my torso, landing on my hip and gripping it tightly as if he’s lost at sea and I’m the life preserver. I moan at the press of his fingers, and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue between my parted lips.

I think that I could become addicted to this - to the honeyed taste of him, to the firmsoft feel of his lips on mine.

I move my arms to encircle his neck, and he lowers himself until he’s flush with me. I gasp as I feel our bodies press against one another.

Bucky freezes at the sound, spell apparently broken, and jerks up, resting on his knees. He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Fuck, Cleo, I’m sorry.” He stands and takes several steps back, eyes wide, almost tripping over his own feet in his haste.

I shake my head, pushing up to sit on the mat. “Wait, what do you mea- ”

“Goddammit,” he says. “I’m so sorry, Cleo, I never should’ve let that happen. That was a mistake.”

“James, wait, what -” I stand, but he’s stalking toward the door before I’m even on my feet.

“I - I gotta go. I’m sorry.”

I numbly press my fingers to my lips as he disappears down the hall.

******

Bucky practically runs up the stairs, heading for Nat’s room on the floor above his own, his head an absolute mess of thoughts. It isn’t long before the worst ones take control.

I can’t believe she kissed me.

I can’t believe I let her kiss me.

That was the best kiss of my fucking life.

That kiss never should have happened.

It almost felt like she lo-

I took advantage of her when she was vulnerable.

I’m a horrible person.

Nat opens her door with a bewildered expression, quickly surveying the agitated man standing before her.

“I’m a horrible person,” he says, eyes wide and wild.

Her eyes narrow instantly. “What did you do to her?”

“I - I’m the worst, Nat. I’m the worst person on the planet. Maybe on all the other planets, too.”

“What did you do to her, Barnes?” she repeats, voice a growl.

“I fucking kissed her.”

Natasha’s eyebrows shoot up, mouth dropping open, before a wide smile creeps over her face. “Jesus, Barnes, you had me going there for a second. It’s about damn time.” She takes a step back and pulls him into her apartment, shutting the door behind him.

“No, you don’t understand - before… before that, we were sparring because she was feeling overwhelmed. Y’know, the files and her stepdad and The Philosopher and all of that.” Nat stares at him, a blank expression on her face. “So she was really vulnerable, with everything that happened getting brought up, and I took advantage of her emotional state. I’m the worst.” He sits down on one of Nat’s chairs, braces his elbows on his knees, and drops his face into his hands.

“Did you force her to kiss you?”

He whips his head up, looking at her like she’s gone crazy. “Jesus, Natasha, of course not. She… she kissed me first.”

“Was she upset?”

His eyebrows knit together. “No, she…” he blushes. “She definitely didn’t seem upset.”

Natasha punches his arm - hard. “Then what makes you think you took advantage of her, you idiot? She’s a consenting adult who made the first move. Christ, men are stupid.”

Bucky blanches, rubbing his arm absently even though it doesn’t really hurt. “You - you don’t think I’m a horrible person?”

Nat rolls her eyes. “No, but I do think you’re a dumbass.”

“I just thought she’d definitely regret it, and probably hate me forever. Why - why would she want to kiss me, if she wasn’t feeling emotional, or whatever?”

Nat gives him a flat look and holds up a hand as if to say see? “I rest my case. Dumb. Ass. Maybe she’s nuts - don’t ask me what she sees in you, because I certainly don’t get it.” He huffs a laugh in spite of himself. “But you’re an idiot if you haven’t figured out by now that she’s got it bad for you.”

Bucky blanches. “She does?”

“Christ, Barnes, do I have to spell it out? She spends all her free time with you, she talks about you constantly, and her crystal lights up like a damn beacon anytime you enter the room.”

He blinks. “I… I had no idea.”

Nat rolls her eyes. “Obviously.”

“What do I do now?”

“Well, since you evidently ran out of there without explaining yourself - due to the aforementioned dumbassery - you should probably start with an apology and some serious groveling.”

Bucky nods. “Okay. Apology and groveling. I can do that.” He stands and charges to the door before turning back. “Thanks, Nat.”

She waves her hand dismissively. “No problem, I’ve always dreamed of being a relationship counselor.”

He grins in spite of her obvious sarcasm and runs toward the gym. When he gets there, though, a set of hand wraps are laying in the center of the mat and Cleo is nowhere to be found. He shakes his head and races to his own hall - the hall he shares with her. When he arrives at Cleo’s door, he takes a few steadying breaths and knocks. He waits a few moments - nothing. Bucky knocks again - still nothing. He puts an ear to the door, but doesn’t hear any sound.

“Cleo? It’s Bucky. I - I know I fucked up, if you’ll just let me explain what happened…” Nothing.

Bucky looks to the ceiling. “JARVIS? Can you tell me where Cleo is?”

If it’s even possible, the AI sounds almost angry when he replies. “Miss Blake has taken the Quinjet and left.”

Shit. “Do you know where she went?”

“I believe she is on her way to Culver University, sir.”

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traumadumpwriter · 1 month ago

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Memory Games

A dark Maze Runner romance between a very damaged girl and our soft boy Newt. With trigger warnings for self harm, abuse, assault, PTSD, mentions of suicide and general violence. Also written in the style of multiple POVs.

It would be cruel to send a girl into a prison full of boys. Boys who'd arrived with no memory from their past lives except for their names. It would be even crueler to send her in with more memory than any of those boys were ever permitted to keep, but no clue of what her name might be. It would be stupid to assume that Wicked weren't cruel enough to do these things.

"All that was clear was that they were all boys - all of them - and it filled me with even more dread, instinctually defensive and fearful of the opposite sex. Even if I couldn't remember anything specific about where I'd come from, I knew that men were dangerous."

Next Chapter

Chapter One:

The first thing I noticed when I woke up was the sound. I think it was the thing to wake me. A grinding, high pitched scraping, complimented by metallic rattling and inhuman groaning. It was too dark to make out anything clearly, but there seemed to be crates and boxes of sorts all around me, and the floor felt to be moving upwards at quite a speed. My stomach flipped as it suddenly jolted, and the low height of the ceiling became apparent as I tried to get up, banging my head and going straight back down to the floor. It was all entirely disorienting and as I tried to collect myself, I realised that I didn't even have a self. Who was I? How long had I been in here?

I could remember nothing. Not how I came into this situation nor who I was before it. Not even a name came to mind. My chest started to tighten and I started to panic, and then suddenly the tiny room came to a stop. The metal stopped whirring and I was plunged into an eery silence for just a second until the roof was suddenly thrown open - light cascading in and temporarily blinding me. The only relief was the cool air against my skin, which was starting to dampen from the stuffiness.

My relief didn't last long though. As I gained my vision back and the sky became blue instead of piercing white, I too realised that there were fifty pairs of eyes staring down at me - all talking and shouting over each other, their voices becoming a deep unintelligible blur. All that was clear was that they were all boys - all of them - and it filled me with even more dread, instinctually defensive and fearful of the opposite sex. Even if I couldn't remember anything specific about where I'd come from, I knew that men were dangerous.

Desperately, my eyes scanned the crowd for any feminine faces but there were none. Instead I was being gawked at by a mirage of young boys and men, and it terrified me. Then one jumped into the box, the ground shaking as he landed. He had short hair and a stocky build, and his outreached hand was dirty, covered in callouses and mud.

"Yeah it's definitely a girl." He called out to the others before turning back to me, bending down slightly. "Come on, get up."

His words seemed to stir further commotion, and his tone was not polite. I flinched away from him, my heart going a hundred miles an hour, but knew I didn't have many options. I could either fight or run, and there was no way I could fight someone that big, so...

With a deep breath I stood myself up, my legs shaking uncertainly, and looked around, seeing the group around me more clearly. None of them bore any familiarity or comfort, none struck me as safe, until I locked eyes with a blonde one, stood authoritatively in front of the crowd. His eyes were brown and his build was lanky, and I could've swore I knew his face from somewhere, itching in the back of my brain annoyingly. Before I could focus on him any longer though, the big one suddenly touched me - a light tap to my arm, perhaps trying to get my attention. Perhaps trying to see if I could speak or move, after all I felt as if I'd been in that box for hours now. If that were his query he was quick to get his answer, as in a move of instantaneous fear, I threw the hardest punch I could and then ran before I could see the result, catapulting myself out of the hole in the ground and through the crowd - set on running until I found anyone to help me.

But I was soon in shock again, looking around and taking in the scene and realising that I had nowhere to run. Three hundred foot tall, giant walls of concrete surrounded the space in a square, intimidating against even the height of thick trees I could see growing in the distance. There were small wooden structures around, yet no real buildings, and boys seemed to run around the place like ants in a colony - holding tools or food in their hands and rushing from job to job. Something about it seemed familiar and yet so unfamiliar - scary and prehistoric.

Some of the boys rushed after me; the big one, the blonde one and some ones I hadn't yet processed, and so I continued to run, ignoring their shouts. They were quickly gaining on me, and soon I found myself pinned to the ground, gasping for air and screaming as the big one held me down with one hand, looking around with furrowed brows. I couldn't tell if he was confused or annoyed.

"Get off! Get off me!" I shouted, my own voice shocking me for a second before I continued to scream "Stop! Please! Get off me!"

"Gally, mate, get off her. She's clearly terrified." A distinct accent broke through the sound of my own heart beating in my head and my breath caught in my throat.

"What and just let her run off again? She's a girl."

"Yeah, I think we can all see that. She's not going to get far is she."

'Gally' let go of my wrists and I instantly went to punch him again, though he quickly dodged it this time and let me run. I tried not to believe those words "she's not going to get very far" but only seconds after my legs were moving again, it became apparent that this wouldn't be an easy escape.

There were boys everywhere, varying in shape and size but all watching me, stopping whatever they were doing to gawk. And the walls - I couldn't quite process the size of them, how trapped they made me feel. I found myself suddenly crashing into one of the boys, his hands holding me in place from running again. I didn't process his appearance though, other than the belt of tools around his waist, and quickly I grabbed the closest one to me before holding it up. The boy instantly loosened his grip on me. It was only a small knife - and it looked pretty blunt - but I swang it wildly, backing away from the crowd.

My breaths were coming out ragged and I was terrified. I could hear so many voices but they all merged into one big noise, and then suddenly something wrapped around my face and I was out cold.

*Newt’s POV*

When the girl stood up and looked at me - her face made my chest whirr with comfort, though I couldn't tell if it meant anything or was just because I hadn't seen a female in so long. She was pretty - beautiful even - with short black hair and big brown eyes. But the fear that was so apparent in her had me distracted from appraising her appearance, more-so concentrated on diffusing the situation. Then Gally tapped her and she had suddenly thrown a punch at him, landing square on his jaw and taking everyone aback.

"Whoa! New girl's feisty!" I heard Frypan chuckle and Billy add "This is gonna be fun."

I wanted to roll my eyes at them, but I was too focused on watching her, instantly following when she started to run through the crowd in the direction of the West door, Gally hot on her tail. A lot of the boys were stood laughing at this, and a few were shouting. I heard "I'm calling dibs!" and "Get her Gally!" and it instantly irritated me, worry starting to kick in for the girl.

"Stop it!" I turned and hissed to the boys, who promptly stopped pacing behind me at that and instead stood watching quietly. Gally suddenly grabbed her by her wrists and shoved her to the ground, effortlessly pinning her down with one hand despite her struggling. I didn't like it. And then she started to scream - a voice so shrill in amongst all the other cries I could remember ever hearing; even more vulnerable and desperate.

"Get off! Get off me! Stop! Please! Get off me!" She shrieked, panting with animalistic fear, her voice breaking with a weak cry.

I quickly stepped over, inches from the pair and demanded "Gally, mate, get off her" earning a confused stare from him. "She's clearly terrified!" I added but he didn't move.

"What and just let her run off again? She's a girl." His statement almost came out as a hiss, and the lump that had formed in my stomach got heavier as I realised this was going to potentially cause some real problems. Still, I had to remain calm and composed until Alby arrived - wherever the shuck he was right now.

"Yeah, I think we can all see that. She's not going to get far is she." I responded, matter of factly.

Gally shot me an unimpressed look before letting go of her wrists, followed by another more unimpressed look after she tried to punch him and started running again. This girl wasn't making it easy, was she? I groaned and started to chase after her again, calling out "Hey, it's alright. We're not going to hurt you!" but was ignored.

"We should just chuck her in the slammer until she calms down. Like we would with any other greenie." Winston muttered and Billy agreed.

Her running was starting to slow and I could see that the gravity of The Glade was starting to set in, her direction changing sporadically and her eyes getting even wider. She looked as if she was about to faint before she suddenly slammed into Zart, obviously shocking herself with the sudden contact. I started to charge over again as he gripped her arms, determined to stop anyone else from scaring her before she suddenly nicked a knife from his belt, swinging wildly in all directions as she backed away from the small crowd.

"Oh great. The crazy girl has a knife now." Gally scoffed, pointing another irritated look at me.

I tried to soothe her again, trying to get her attention with eye contact and saying "It's alright. Calm down." but it was making no difference. Then, before she even had the chance to lunge at anyone, Alby came up behind her - Jeff at his side - and held a rag over her mouth, the chemicals quickly taking effect and knocking her out. She went limp and fell into Alby's arms - who easily scooped her up and carried her towards the slammer. The crowd finally went silent and I was certain I could picture the questions on most of their minds.

Why a girl? Why now? Ranging to; am I going to be able to fuck her? And although I too was curious about what situations were going to arise from this sudden change, I was more worried than anything. Worried and... strangely protective.

Alby didn't have to say anything for all the keepers to know a meeting was due immediately - but Minho was still in the maze - so we would have to wait a little while. Until then, I decided I would have Chuck watch over the girl whilst I continued my work in the gardens - he could alert me when she woke up. I didn't want to keep thinking about her, but it was all I could do, and as an unfamiliar silence swept over The Glade, I had a feeling it was all anyone else could think about too.

When Minho arrived back an hour later, he was instantly informed of the news and we were all quick to rush to the homestead, closing the doors and beginning the Gathering.

Minho was first to speak "I'm saying what we're all thinking - why the hell would they send a girl up here now?"

"Maybe it was a mistake." Zart spoke to which Winston swiftly replied "They don't make mistakes."

"It's got to be a test of some kind." Frypan suggested, and I nodded in agreement - this answer seeming the most logical of any I could conjure up.

"A test for what? To see how long it takes one of us to fuck her?" Gally sneered, and my jaw automatically clenched.

"Yeah you really charmed her earlier didn't you?" Billy scoffed, earning a chuckle from Zart and Frypan.

Gally continued, his eyes thinned "Well maybe it's a sign that we're gonna be here longer than we thought. That maybe we ought to-"

"What, force yourself on her and start reproducing, in this place? Don't be so sick!" I cut him off with a sneer, struggling to stay still as my fists clenched. I couldn't blame her for her frenzied panic earlier, perhaps she'd instinctively known that this was what she'd arrived into.

I could see that most of the other keepers were disgusted by this idea too, eyeing Gally with judgement, though he was quick to defend himself.

"I never said anything about forcing did I? I just don't see why else they'd send her!"

Alby jumped in, speaking in a tone even sharper than my own "No one is to touch her. You got that?"

"She attacked two Gladers! She stole a knife for shuck's sake! She ain't some delicate princess." Billy scoffed, seemingly sending some of the other keepers into consideration.

I couldn't believe it.

"Are you bloody mad? She was terrified!" I pointed out loudly, becoming more irritated by the second.

"And rightfully so, apparently." Minho added with a scoff, glaring at Gally and Billy.

"So what? We just keep her in the Slammer until she calms down? Give her the tour and treat her like any other greenie?" Gally scoffed back.

"Yeah. Actually. That's exactly what we're going to do." Alby barked, quickly bringing the room to a silence. "We'll give her some extra privacy, a trustworthy guard for when she showers. But I hope that doesn't become necessary. We'll let her try every job, just as every other greenie does, and we'll see what she's good at."

"Well she's not gonna be a builder." Gally mumbled.

"What's a girl gonna be good at? Cooking?... Frypan she's with you!" Winston taunted and Frypan replied with a shrug and a smile "Hey, you're saying that like it's a bad thing. Who knows she might become Mrs Frypan."

"And we will not talk about her like that! I don't want to hear anything even vaguely suggestive! Keep it to yourself!" Alby raised his voice again, and Frypan held up his arms defensively.

I was relieved by Alby's strictness though - trusting that he'd do the right thing but anxious to see it through. It was moments later that Chuck burst into the room, proclaiming "She's awake!" and then rushed back out.

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it-never-gets-better · 2 years ago

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NO ONE GETS IT. NO ONE KNOWS HOW IT FEELS LIVING IN THIS BODY.

#actuallymentallyill #actuallytraumatized #sa vent #complex ptsd #sa awareness #actually ptsd #physical abuse #sa survivor #tw csa #csa implied

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druidshollow · 1 year ago

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Rivers is reminded of his past when Canopy tries to help him hide the scars from Dune's attack.

ive been in kinda a bummer mood lately so have a bummer comic lol. been there rivers i get it

#druid draw #rain world oc #iterator oc #off string au #os rivers #sequential #implied abuse #ask to tag #i gave the robot ptsd :(#os phrases #os space #os canopy #rivers and phrases have “red” as a codeword for when rivers has ptsd reactions in regards to flowers- it basically means “help me and get-#-everyone else away from me"

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writingmyheartsout · 2 months ago

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Nobody's Soldier - a Bucky Barnes story.

(chapter 2)

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

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

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

i'm truly sorry for made you wait this long

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This fic is also on wattpad and soon on Ao3

Nobody's Soldier playlist on Spotify

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

(chapter is 8k words more or less)

chapter 1 is here

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Ch. 2 - Popular monster

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was Bucky

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You cared about him. A lot actually.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-From Bucky: Please... say something.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But someone who seemed to understand him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You were worried and maybe a little furious.

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

Then you quickly added a second one.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And the ten minutes felt like an eternity.

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

He was not panicking, absolutely not.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Maybe we can talk about that? "

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bucky’s thoughts momentarily halted as you spoke.

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

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

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

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

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

Most of them complete idiots.

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

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

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

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

He was no better than all of them.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But that realization only infuriated him even more.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He felt a pang of guilt in his chest.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why were you even happy?

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

Did you actually have feelings for him?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-from Bucky: Can I call you?

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

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

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

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