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crushedbyhyperbole · 1 year

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His Words

Summary: Bucky doesn’t know who he is or who he used to be, but he knows three things; he can’t get caught again, he needs to conquer the monster in his head, and he needs help to do it. He puts his trust in you, his fishnets and corset clad angel of mercy - Goddess Noir.

Words: ~4.2k

A/N: Sub!Bucky x Dom!Reader. Set after the warehouse scene in CACW, this is a canon-divergent story of how Bucky became free his trigger words (kind of). There’s mentions of hypnotism and sexual conditioning, reader is Goddess Noir - a seasoned dominatrix who cares for her subs. I’m far from an expert in any of this - it’s not written for accuracy though I try to be as informed as I can be.

Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoy, and humbly request your feedback. I love hearing from you guys and appreciate all the love you can give ❤

Warnings: Angst, hurt/comfort, emotional distress/comfort, dom/sub, coming untouched, bondage, mentions of: past trauma/edging/conditioning.

***18+ content - please don’t continue if you’re underage***

His desperation had been unsurmountable. All that fear. All that hate. He had burned with it, even as he had come back to himself in that dingy warehouse with the weapon clamped in a vice. The memory of the dark place his mind went to when the words took over left him feeling nauseous. A tangy sour taste lingered in the back of his throat, bile and bitterness for all of the things they’d made him do.

Those two men weren’t any different, clamping him into a piece of equipment to take his choice away.

One had said he knew him. He had said he was his friend. The man from the bridge.

He didn’t have any friends. Only handlers and superiors. There had been something… once. A lifetime ago, when he wasn’t this thing they made him into. When he wasn’t a monster. He got flashes of it sometimes when, triggered by smells and tastes, he would recall something he forgot he ever had; family. They were all gone now. Lost to history.

The struggle to free himself had been short, shifting the plates of the weapon like an articulated track, he had slipped free and silently exited via the rear access. The two men had underestimated him, but he knew they would come after him as soon as they realised he was gone. He hadn’t wanted to hurt them, he hadn’t wanted to hurt anyone, but he would if he had to. All he wanted was to disappear and never be found. To go where the things inside him couldn’t get free ever again.

In the months since his escape, he’d seen his face on the news and in the papers of every town and city in every country he passed through on his trek across Europe and back. He knew he couldn’t settle but he had to find someone who could help him, someone who would help him. That’s how he found you.

Your black and silver business card had saved his life. The words “The Goddess” in silver swirling font on the glossy card, and a phone number on the back. Though he hadn’t realised how lucky he was then, he certainly knew it now. The lowlife who had passed it to him had smirked when, in desperate whispers, he had asked for someone who dealt in hypnotism and wasn’t afraid to break moral codes.

You weren’t even the first person he had tried, but you had been the last. He feared that his disguises weren’t good enough, that the Interpol would find him and turn him over to the American Government, or worse, HYDRA would claim him. There was constant hypervigilance and the crushing worry that one of the handful of people he had sought out would turn him over, get him caught. He was exhausted.

You had been different. So far removed from what he expected that he wasn’t sure he was even in the right place when he walked through your door. Your warm smile had drawn him in but your attire spoke of sex and desire. Behind you, an open door drew his gaze. The red glow did little to hide the contents; a cushioned table with restraints, a large cage, a wall display of implements you no doubt used to inflict pain.

He balked, turning hastily to leave.

“Bucky, is it?” Your voice was soft as you use the name he had given to you on the phone. He turned his head to watch you over his shoulder. He couldn’t fully remember if that was his name, but the man on the bridge had been so sure.

Hastily you swung a white robe around yourself, covering your tight black corset and plunging cleavage. The red glow diminished as you closed the door with a soft click.

He knew he should run but something about you told him to stay. He nodded, silently searching your face for any sign of deception.

“Do you want to sit?”

He eyed the dark leather sofa suspiciously. A curt nod and he moved cautiously to sit.

“Can I get you something to drink?”

He swallowed, a slight croak escaping his throat, little used for speaking. “W-water please.”

You smiled brightly and filled a paper cup from a water cooler in the corner. You set it on the table in from of him and stepped back, creating a reassuring distance between you.

“I think I know why you’re here.” You perched your bottom on the edge of your desk, fishnet clad legs crossed at the ankles where your glossy black shoes yielded heels sharp enough they could be used as weapons.

He swallowed. If you had recognised him, he might have to leave quickly. He didn’t want to hurt you but the people who would come looking for him might.

“This is a safe space, Bucky.” You said softly. “There isn’t anything that you can tell me that would shock me or make me judge you.”

“That isn’t a promise you can ever hope to keep.” It was the longest sentence he had said since his phone call to you when the words do you do hypnosis? and I need your help came tumbling from his lips.

“Can you help me understand? I want to help you, Bucky.”

He sighed, shoulders slumping in defeat. If he told you everything he knew and everything he had done, you would call the authorities and he would have to disappear again. The reports in the news about him had started to fall away of late, the infamous Winter Soldier vanished without a trace. He would have to do it all over again.

“Would you be more comfortable somewhere less intimidating? I can tell you’re nervous about being here.”

“No.” He snapped. “No.” Softer but still fearful. “Here is fine. It’s just-” he clenched his jaw. “It’s just not something I can trust anyone with.”

“Then start with what you can tell me and see how we go from there?”

He nodded, resigning himself to the telling of his tale. You were a reassuring presence despite being a stranger. Your vibe good and supportive, a total contrast to the image he had gotten from the inside of red-lit room. He decided to trust you. His journey away from HYDRA and the words that made him their slave had to begin somewhere. One trusting step after another.

He started with the words, and what they did to him. Then he told you how they put them there, the torture and conditioning that took them years to achieve. Then he told you who, and that was where realisation kicked in. A brief flicker of recognition in your eyes, and a sharply inhaled breath, but that was all. You sat and listened to him tell you everything, all the while you watched him compassionately.

When he was done, glassy-eyed and emotionally exhausted, he looked up at you with big pleading eyes. “Will you help me?”

“Yes, Bucky. I’ll help you.”

He didn’t know why you decided to help him. He had told you he couldn’t pay you, at least not yet anyway. But you had agreed to help him anyway and he would be eternally thankful of any help you could give. The fear of you reporting him to the authorities was still there, stronger than ever when you sent him away and asked him to come back a few days later. You had needed to clear some time for him where he could be safe and undiscovered.

He had done as you asked, doing recon on your building in the time beforehand. Watching your clients come and go, some half-hourly, some hourly. He knew you were some kind of sex worker but that wasn’t what you had offered him. You had offered him hope.

The first session he had with you was just talking. You asked him questions and he tried to answer them honestly. You had sat by him, close enough to touch him but you hadn’t. You asked about the words, what they were and how they felt. You were not surprised that they were in Russian. You made notes, promising to burn them once your task was done.

You had learned those words over time, their meaning and their pronunciation. You called him Bucky, instead of The Asset or Soldat. Your touch was kind when he allowed it. Soon he began to crave it, if not for its gentleness then for its intimacy.

The hypnosis took time. Your voice was soft and warm. You felt safe to him, and soon, you began to feel like home. The more you progressed, the more willing he became, allowing you to delve deeper and create a warm spot in his cold mind. To give him comfort from the horrors that plagued him. Of course, they never fully went away. He would carry them with him always.

Bucky came to love the sound of your voice and the way you made him feel. Subconsciously relaxing when you spoke, feelings of care and support rising up above all else but no matter how hard you tried, the words still made him a monster. He would sink back into the darkness when the words claimed him, ready to comply.

+++

“I don’t know what else to try,” you sighed, sipping your coffee as you warmed your hands on the hot ceramic. Your feet were resting in his lap as he massaged them through your fluffy socks.

Bucky had been staying at your loft for several weeks now. It had been safer for him and more convenient for you to keep an eye on him. Some of the hypnosis you had done with him really took a toll on him and as much as you didn’t want to admit it, you were growing a soft spot for the man who no longer wanted to be The Winter Soldier.

“I feel good.” He said with a subtle smile. “You’ve done more for me than I can ever repay you for, but I understand, it was a long shot anyway. I’ll just have to make sure they don’t find me again.”

“There is still something, I can try,” you hesitated, “but I don’t think it’s something that you’d want.”

“I’m willing to try anything.”

“You might regret saying that.” You chuckled dryly.

When you explained that you could repurpose the words, he looked at you blankly. They were rooted so deep in his mind by the torment he had gone through that they could possibly always be with him, but they didn’t have to have the same effect. That complete loss of control caused by the painful torture and conditioning could be changed. The foundations were already there in his mind, all you would have to do would be to recondition him.

“So, you’re saying that I won’t be a slave anymore? I won’t have to kill people? I won’t lose control?”

“No, I’m saying that your loss of control can be redirected. I’m saying you can be reconditioned for another purpose.”

Bucky looked at you so fearfully that you regretted bringing this up at all.

“What purpose?”

“Some other relinquishment of control, perhaps. You would have to be willing to let it happen or it won’t take.”

“Would you have to torture me?”

“God, no!” You sat forward, shifting your feet from his lap and taking his hands in yours. “Pleasure over pain any day of the week, Bucky. I would want you to feel good no matter what.”

“So you could reprogram me to feel pleasure instead?”

“I could try.”

The moment he took to process your offer was fleeting. His eyes snapped to yours, resolute.

“I’ll do it.”

+++

The journey had been long. Months of conditioning him in your rooms. He had asked for blue lights instead of red; red reminded him of his past. The trust he put in you was unequivocal. He was no less than flawless.

Given his history, his willingness to submit to you was astounding. You worked hard to build a strong bond with him, never once straying from the agreement you had both set out, never once taking something for yourself, no matter how much you wanted to. Bucky was perfect, but he was anything but yours. You had to remind yourself of that when he called you by your chosen title, and in the throes of pleasure moaned so perfectly for you. Goddess.

You had made him climax many times before, edging him and reinforcing the pleasurable association between sensations throughout his body and the words. It had taken months of work, almost daily sessions. In addition to your regular clients, your work with Bucky ate into your free time but you didn’t care. Being with him this way was the most rewarding thing you have ever done. The way he mewled with pleasure when you touched him, the way his skin on his neck and chest flushed hot and red when he was about to orgasm. He still seemed innocent because you had never fucked him. You couldn’t. That wasn’t what he needed or wanted so you couldn’t and wouldn’t project that on to him.

Over time you had managed to repurpose all but his final trigger word, instead of relieving him of his free will, the words now built pleasure, anticipation. All but that last one. Ironic that the Russian word for freight car should thwart you when your goal was to make him come like a freight train.

This final word had eluded capture no matter how many times you made him orgasm whilst chanting it. And when you strung all the words together, that final one was always the crux. The words ya gotov otvichet would fall from his lips and he would await your orders, perfectly docile and emotionless.

You thought you had it this time though.

Bucky lay completely naked on your table, his muscles hard, his cock still soft. The deep blue lights in the room made you feel trippy, slightly dizzy even. It was disconcerting but you endured it for him.

Under your instruction, he tested the heavy-duty cuffs that bound his wrists and ankles. Bucky had insisted on them, installing them himself, before the very first attempt you made with his first word. They had never been needed but Bucky wouldn’t not hear any protests that they weren’t necessary. He needed this security, so you had bound him.

At your request, he gave you his safe word. A word he had chosen for himself. The only one he could choose for himself since the others were chosen for him. Hotdog.

You tapped into your alter-ego headspace without fully submerging yourself. This wasn’t roleplay, it was far more delicate and treacherous than that. Bucky’s mind could hang in the balance if this all went wrong. It was something you had wrestled with early on, whether it was morally right to do this, but he was low on options and you had wanted to help him if you could, so you quashed any qualms you had and concentrated on moving forward.

“Are you ready to begin?” Your voice was kind but firm.

Bucky nodded and mumbled “yes Goddess” as he closed his eyes and waited for you to begin.

Your chest bloomed with pride. He was so good, so patient, so trusting. “Good.”

Bucky took a deep breath in through his nose and out through quivering lips, readying himself as best he could.

“Zhelaniye.”

Breath quickening, bucky sighed heavily. The feeling of desire took hold, and he longed for release. His cock twitched as blood flowed into it, making it hard, laying solid and heavy against his abdomen.

“Rzhaviy.”

He stirred, eyes flickering behind closed lids as the muscles in his stomach clenched, his hips lifting slightly from the padded surface of the table. His cock twitched vertical, swelling more before dropping back against his stomach.

“Semnadsat.”

He moaned. Breath caught in his throat. Teeth catching his full lower lip and biting down. You hoped he wouldn’t be so far gone that he drew blood so when he released his lip, licking afterwards, you were relieved.

“Rassviyet.”

A gasp. A sigh. They punctuated his thrusting hips as he sought friction against his erection. You longed to touch him, to give him what he needed but that would defeat the object. He needed to do this without being touched, with only the words to guide him on the journey you had spent months preparing him for.

“Pech.”

Bucky groaned heavily, his chest heaving as he panted against his growing pleasure. A pearl of precum beaded on his tip, growing in size until it dripped off onto the skin of his stomach. When his cock twitched it created a gossamer string of silken liquid in the gap underneath his risen cock. You licked your lips, watching him come undone.

“Devyat.”

He fairly cried out as soon as the word had left your lips, hands clenched into fists, teeth bared slightly. The skin on his neck began to flush deep pink and you knew he was starting to get close.

“Dobroserdechniy.”

A held breath escaped him as a drawn out moan that had heat pooling between your legs. The sounds of him were enough to soak your panties, want and desire clamouring in your chest. Bucky thrust his hip up repeatedly, fucking into the air as his cock throbbed relentlessly.

“Vozvrashcheniy na rodinu.”

Whimpering now, tears formed under his closed lashes, trickling forth from the corners of his eyes down into the hair above his ears. His chest was wracked with panting gasps, and the skin there flushed an angry red. He was just about there, right on the edge.

“Odin.”

All muscles taut, from his clenched jaw and straining neck right the way down to his arched feet and curled toes, Bucky clung on to the edge of oblivion. The glistening tip of his cock was so engorged it looked bruised, an angry purple-red that strained against the skin. He twitched violently, balls tightening, fluid leaking from his tip.

“Gruzovoy vagon.”

Bucky’s breathy cry echoed around the room like a chorus of angels. His release almost explosive as he spilled over himself in waves, pumping jizm out over his chest and stomach. He thrashed on the table, hips jutting up, back arched in unadulterated pleasure.

His grunts became whimpers and his throbbing cock slowed. You rushed forward an whispered his name, laying your hand gently on his sternum to let him know you were there. His eyes cracked open briefly and he licked at his reddened lips, gasping as he came back to himself.

You increased the lights so you could release him, rubbing his wrists and ankles to make sure the blood flow was good with a few pinched toes and fingertips. You wiped him down with a warm flannel cloth and took his hand to get him to sit. He went with you easily, still in a daze.

“Bucky?” You whispered and he shivered. You hoped beyond hope that he was alright. He hadn’t said the words yet but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t.

You wrapped him in a red plaid fleece blanket you kept just in case and stepped between his open knees, pulling the blanket closed around him. His breathing was still laboured and he looked thoroughly wrecked.

“Bucky, talk to me.”

His mouth started to turn upwards into a smile but didn’t make it that far before the dam broke and his mouth twisted. Relieved sobs and a river of tears flowed from him as the realisation set in. You had spoken his words and he was still there, in the light. The darkness hadn’t claimed him this time. He was free. Free of the pain. Free of the fear. Free of him.

“You’re ok. You’re ok.” You reassured him as he broke down in front of you. “I’m here.”

You wrapped your arms around him and pulled him to you, resting his head on your shoulder as he wept, sobbing and sniffling against your hair and skin. When his arms tightened around you and held you closer, you couldn’t help but grin. It had worked. It had finally worked.

Cuddled against you, for what felt like an hour, Bucky finally settled. He lifted his head to look at you through bloodshot eyes. His lips were raw and swollen too but there was peace there under the evidence of his emotional experience. You stroked his hair back and looked up into his eyes. He hadn’t said a word since you had begun and you needed to know he was alright.

“Talk to me, Bucky.” You whispered, hands cupping his face gently. “I need your words.”

He blushed slightly, looking down coyly before meeting your gaze firmly. “Thank you, Goddess.”

The barked laugh that escaped you was full of delight. After all of that, he still managed to make your proud. “You had me worried.” You let out a relieved breath. “I’m going to get you some water, but I’ll be right back, okay? Is there anything else you want or need?”

“There is one thing, Goddess.”

“Yes?”

“Can I kiss you, Goddess?”

Your heart jolted in your chest. This was something you had wanted for quite some time but had been unable to cross that line. Now that Bucky was asking, could you really deny him this one thing? Normally you wouldn’t kiss clients, rarely would you have sex with them either unless it was a part of their experience.

“You would like to kiss me? Is that right, Bucky?” That was exactly what he had asked for and the distinction was important. He wanted to kiss you, not he wanted you to kiss him.

“Very much so, Goddess, yes.”

You searched his face looking for any sign that there might be something wrong but all you could see was adoration and bliss behind the puffiness of his eyes and mouth.

“You’re going to drink some water first.” You said, cupping his face in your hands once more. “And if you want to kiss me when you’re done then, yes, you may.”

Bucky grinned brightly, a flash of brilliance before his face relaxed again. He took the cup of water and downed it without hesitation, handing the paper cup back to you with a shaking hand.

When his eyes met yours you froze. Bucky had submitted to you willingly but it wasn’t his natural state. The glint in his eye as he reached out to pull you forward between his spread legs once more, was intoxicating.

He stroked his fingertips across your cheek, sliding them into the hair behind your ear, his metal hand rested on your waist. “Is this okay?” He asked in a whisper. Your preferred title forgotten in the moment but you didn’t mind, not for this.

“Yes.” Breathy and needy.

Bucky leaned in slowly, allowing you time to stop him if you needed to. When his lips met yours it was in the lightest touch. He grazed his lips back and forth, coaxing yours apart slightly before sealing the kiss gently. There was no tongue, no teeth, just a sweet pressing of his mouth to yours as he held you there for a while, savouring you.

When he parted from you, a sigh left your lips and he grinned. Resting his forehead on yours he held you as he had before, stroking his thumb where your cheek met your ear.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a while but I didn’t think you would let me.” He confessed.

You chuckled. “I’ve wanted to do that for a while but didn’t think it was appropriate.”

“Can I do it again, Goddess?”

“Yes, Bucky, you may.”

He claimed your mouth in a sensual kiss, mouths open, his tongue licking into you like you were a delicacy to be savoured. Bucky slowly devoured you and it felt amazing. You closed your eyes to the world and sunk into the feeling of his lips on yours, his taste mixing with yours. This thing between you was evolving into something new. What it would be, you had no idea but that in itself was exciting. Who would have thought that meeting the world’s most wanted assassin would prove to be the most fulfilling experience of your life. Things were still dangerous for him, for both of you, but from this moment forward you were both in it together. You and Bucky against the world.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fan fic #bucky barnes sub #bucky barnes fan fiction #bucky barnes needs a hug #bucky barnes recovering #sub!bucky #bucky barnes fluff #Winter Soldier #bucky smut #bucky needs help #cloudy's writing

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nessieart · 6 months

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TEETH pt. 17

WC: 4.6k

So sorry this took a million years to get out. I’ve been so stuck where I wanted this to go, so. Here we are! Please enjoy!

—

Masterlist

Previous | Next

The next week goes by in a blur, as you get used to being in the Tower. Pepper left the next morning after the D.C. footage revelation, heading back to Stark Industries in California for a few meetings. She promised a lunch date when she returned, giving you a tight hug before she left.

The week spent in the Tower around Tony, you realized he and Bruce were almost always in the lab together. When Bruce managed to get Tony out of the lab long enough for him to rest, they both always returned to the floor, where they all shared dinner. Tony claimed it was just easier this way since the top few floors and penthouse were still undergoing minor construction from the Battle of New York.

You awoke to the feeling of lips pressing along the side of your face, trailing down from your cheek to your jawline, to your neck, then a lingering press to your shoulder. You sighed, the fight to stay asleep fading when arms wrapped around your middle to pull you back against a solid, warm body.

It was still early, you could tell, the sun barely peeking above the horizon when you squinted an eye open. You shifted back against Tony and cuddled closer, sighing again.

"It's early," you croaked out, sleep evident in your voice. You turned your head to look at Tony over your shoulder, his nose poked into your cheek, and he nuzzled into you more.

"Sorry," he squeezed you a little closer, "Pepper needs me to fly out to London for a meeting she can't make," Tony dropped his head to your shoulder and sighed. "I forgot I told her I'd go until J reminded me."

You turned over to face Tony, taking in his appearance now. He still wore the old band tee from yesterday, his jeans were still on, and the bags under his eyes were evidence enough. You brought a hand to his cheek and could feel the stubble of his unshaved face under your palm.

"I know what you're going to say," he brought a hand up to cover yours and kissed your palm. "But I can sleep on the jet," he shrugged a little. You went to protest, mouth opening with a retort on the tip of your tongue when he kissed you. Effectively silencing anything you had to say. He pulled away after a moment, and you went to chase his lips. He chuckled lightly.

"I'll be back tomorrow," Tony shuffled out of bed, then leaned over again to peck your lips at the pout you gave him. "Brucie is also away for a few days, something about a conference or…something," he waved a dismissive hand in the air, "JARVIS probably knows."

You whined when he stood up away from the bed, making little grabby hands at him. Tony laughed lightly, the sound filling your insides with a warm, gooey feeling. It made your heart happy to see him carefree and happy. He removed his shirt in one swift motion and tossed it onto your face. You inhaled his familiar scent and slipped the shirt over your head after discarding the one you were in.

Tony disappeared into the closet, and a few moments later, he returned in another band shirt, this one clean at least. The faded Rolling Stones logo on the shirt made you wonder how long he actually had these shirts.

"The full moon is in two days," you remind him, stretching wide on the newly vacated bed. Tony's eyes briefly flash with concern before he schools his expression. "Just reminding you," you tell him.

He nods, thinking, “Well the Wreck-it room is all yours,” he gives you a small smile, stuffing his hands in his pockets. Tony’s brows furrow for a moment as he gazes at you. “I’ll miss you,” he says softly. You smile up at him and roll towards him to the edge of the bed, getting up on your knees and placing your hands on his chest.

“I’ll miss you too, Tony,” Your hands slide up to his neck, and your fingers weave into his hair. Spending the past week with Tony was nice. Though you didn't understand half of what he and Bruce talked about in the lab, it still felt perfect to be around him.

Maybe it had to do with being around your mate that made you feel whole. There was never a sense of wanting to run or keep yourself on the move.

A content sigh left your lips when Tony brought his forehead to rest on yours. One of his hands on your waist and the other pressed between your shoulder blades to keep you close.

His nose nudged yours before he spoke, "Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

You rolled your eyes, "That's a very short list. I'm sure you'd do just about any--mmff," Tony cuts you off with a sweet kiss, muffling the rest of your sentence into his mouth. You hum, gripping the hair at the base of his neck a little tighter. The hand on your waist grips you a little harder as he deepens the kiss, licking into your mouth with fervor.

Tony pulls away after a minute to catch his breath, chest heaving to take in air. You pepper kisses along his jaw and down his throat, grazing ever so slightly with your teeth, your fangs extending at the thought of biting him, marking him as yours.

There's a sharp tug to your hair, and you're forced to look up at Tony with hooded, glowing eyes.

"I thought we agreed on no biting, honey?" He husks out between pants. He licks his lips, and you track the motion, a sly grin pulling at your lips.

You could easily get out of his grip, but you like him, thinking he can handle you a little longer.

"I just think," you lean in again and lick a stripe up his neck, "you might need my mark on you," you nip his throat again, and his breath hitches. "Can't have others think you don't belong to me. That you don’t belong with me." There's a slight growl at the end in your voice, and you can feel Tony shiver.

You attach your lips to the crook of his neck where it meets his shoulder and bite. It's not hard enough to break skin, but just enough to let him know you mean it. Tony pants heavily, the hand in your hair moving to keep you to him and the other wraps around your waist. You're almost positive you hear him whimper a yes, and you're about to bite down to finally put your mark on him -

Sir, the quinjet has arrived. It is waiting for you so you can head to London.

A growl rips through you, and you glare at the ceiling. Tony slumps against you, and his head is buried in your neck. You smooth his hair back and look at your handiwork. Pride wells up in you at the indents on his neck. A small bruise forming around the area of fine teeth marks. It's not the mark you wanted on him, but it should last until he gets back to you. Your thumb trails over the edges of your mark, and Tony shivers again.

A pleased hum fills your chest, "This will do, for now. Mate," you smirk at him when he stands up to his full height, a playful glare on his face. His hands squeeze your hips before he backs away. A hand goes through his messy hair as he tries to compose himself.

Tony huffs, his fingers lightly brush the teeth marks on his shoulder, and you can almost feel it, a tingling running up your spine and your eyes flash again. He puts a hand up against your forehead when you go to lean in again and shakes his head.

"No, no more of that, I don't think I could take it," then he cups your cheek and gives you a quick kiss. "But I really do need to go," you nod, the smirk still on your face. "I'm going now," one more peck. Your hands squeeze his wrists as he backs away.

Tony pulls something out of his back pocket and holds it out to you, “Had this sent up for you,” You take the proffered item. It’s a sleek palm sized rectangle. The Stark Industries logo is on the back, and you look up at Tony with a confused look.

“It’s new, hasn’t hit the market yet,” he taps the front, and it lights up, a screen coming into view with small buttons. “StarkPhone; everyone important is already in there.” Tony smiles at the tilt of your head, “Pepper, Happy, Bruce, me. I may have put a certain Star-Spangled Man in there as well.”

Your eyes light up. You haven’t talked to Steve since you left D.C.

“Thanks, Tony. Though I do have the watch you gave me, too,” and you turn your wrist over, and the watch also lights up with the time, a light blue backlight coming on as it activates.

He shrugs, “Well, now you have the phone!” He pecks your nose and begins to leave the room.

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do," you tease him. Tony laughs loudly as he leaves the room, the sound echoing down the hall.

-*-

The gentle breeze ruffling the leaves above your head is sweet. The smell of spring giving way to Summer is evident in the sun shining through the leaves. You’ve been spending a few hours in the park since arriving in New York, and it makes you feel content, getting out of the confines of the Tower. But you don’t mind spending the time inside when Tony is around.

You spent most of the morning in the park, after Tony left, lazing around between the sun and the shade. Right now, your back is pressed to a big oak tree, the earthy smell of the bark filling your nose as the wind changes directions. It’s peaceful and calm.

As the wind picks up speed, you smell it. The odd scent, but you swear you know it. It makes you sit up right. The hair on your arms stand on end, and a shiver runs up your spine and over your shoulders.

It smells like woodsmoke and fresh mint leaves, something sharp and tangy. You stand up swiftly and turn into the wind, sniffing the air and scanning the trees. The wind blows again, and the sun shines between the leaves and catches on silver blue eyes and a gleam of metal by his hip. You perk up and raise a hand in greeting, a tentative smile on your face. He seems hesitant, eyebrows creasing together in concern as he takes a step back to be covered by a tree more. When you go to step closer, he doesn’t move, so you scan the area around you before heading into the thicker part of the wooded area towards him. He’s standing on the other side of the tree from you, and you give him that space.

You smile up at him, “Hi, James,” you say softly into the woods. His eyes scan your face like he’s trying to remember your name or remember your features. "Do you remember me?" You feel like you ask him that a lot, but to be fair, he's had his memories wiped for the last 60 or so odd years.

Bucky nods once. It's hesitant, but you'll take it.

"Do you know who you are?"

His brows crease again, "I- think so," he then pulls out some folded and wrinkled paper from his back pocket. He gives it a flip in his hands and then shoves it in your direction. When you step forward to take the paper, the wind shifts again and blows toward Bucky. He inhales deeply, "Petals. Of flowers. Dewey grass," you tilt your head at him, and his eyes focus on yours. "You," he says quietly and then lets go of the papers to let you have them.

"My family called me Flowers growing up," you tell him as you open the wrinkled bits of paper. There's scribbles on newspaper clippings, magazine cutouts, and a brochure from the Captain America exhibit. "My twin -who you briefly met last week - smells like–,"

"Sunshine and cut grass," Bucky finishes for you, and you look up at him, surprised. He shrugs his left shoulder slightly.

"Well, anyway," you wave a hand in the air, "we all called him Sunny. I'm surprised you and Steve can smell me. Are you positive that stuff running through your veins isn't like, werewolf blood or something?" You laugh a little as you absently shuffle through the clippings. Most of them are of Steve, and some of them are of the Avengers, images from the Battle of New York, or candid photos of them out and about.

"Maybe the 'super' in that serum is for 'Supernatural'," you chuckle again. You're joking, sort of, just making conversation as you read.

The scribbles along the papers are haphazardly done, incoherent thoughts written down in pen, some words scribbled out, some words not even in English. In the Smithsonian pamphlet, there's a section on Bucky Barnes, and that has the most writing out of everything in your hands. Questions about who he was and who he is now; no answers for either you can find. It's silent as you read his incoherent thoughts, and then you look up at Bucky and notice he's gone completely still. Eyes wide as he looks down at you.

Your head tilts, "You okay?" Your eyes scan his face, and he shakes his head a little, eyes refocusing on you, blinking owlishly.

He clears his throat and swallows thickly. A small nod. He shifts from foot to foot. You hand the papers back to Bucky, giving him a small smile.

“Have you seen Steve since, y’know?” Bucky shakes his head vehemently, eyes wide again. “Okay,” you look him up and down now, taking in his appearance. He’s in baggy jeans, his combat boots, a hoodie a size too small, and a baseball cap pulled low over his eyes. His eyes look sunken and haunted, and the bags under them let you know he probably hasn’t slept in a week. His cheeks are shallow, making his cheekbones and jawline stand out more, his hair is greasy and stringy.

"He could probably help you more than I could," you mumble. But you're sure he's heard you. His head tilts to the side.

“Come back to the Tower with me,” you blurt out. Giving him a hopeful look. Bucky makes a noise of protest, shaking his head no at you. “It’s just me, Tony is out of town, and so is Bruce. No one will see you or even know you were there. You can shower, and I’ll get you fresh clothes. Maybe something to eat? You can sleep. It looks like you need it,” Your words come out quickly, trying to persuade him to come with you.

Bucky’s left arm whirs, his fists clenching and unclenching. He worries his bottom lip with his teeth for a moment. A heavy sigh leaves him out his nose, and he drops his head, chin to chest, and he gives a small ‘ok’ before he looks back up at you. You beam up at him, a big smile on your face, and he tries really hard not to return it.

You grab his metal hand without thinking and pull him along to follow you, a spring in your step as you go. On the way out of Central Park, you quietly talk to Bucky, telling him about your time in the Tower the last week and spending time with Tony. He listens silently, only nodding along when you look up at him, your hand still holding his.

-*-

When you reach the Tower, you go down an alley instead of to the front doors. You bring the watch up into view and tap it twice.

"Hey, J, I'm gonna need the back entrance. And be discreet." There's a small chime of affirmation and the metal doors a few feet from you click, and you open them.

The doors lead into a hallway, vacant and sparsely lit. There's an elevator bank not too far, and you hit the call button. Within seconds, the doors open, and you pull Bucky inside, hit the button with your floor, and wait.

Bucky's silent as you both ascend, his eyebrows drawn together like he's thinking, staring blankly at you.

When the elevator chimes next, the door opens, and you pull Bucky behind you. The elevator is on the opposite side of the room of ones you usually take.

Bucky is tense as you lead him through the space. He's taking everything in as you bring him to a set of doors and push them open. It's a large bathroom, dual vanity with a counter to ceiling mirror, bright lights that dim a little, a walk-in shower big enough for Hulk, and a giant stand-alone tub. You let go of Bucky's hand as you flit around the room, pulling soaps and shampoo from a cabinet, fluffy gray towels from another.

You set the water to hot, pouring in a lavender soap that bubbles up and fills the room with a sweet scent. Then you put the towels into a basket, the warmer turning on as soon as you close the lid.

When you finally turn towards Bucky, you can see his shoulders are tense. He's looking down at his feet, hands clenched into fists at his side. You step up to him and put a hand on his. He looks up at you with wide, frightful eyes.

You give him a small smile, "it's just us here, James. You can take all the time you need. I'll bring you fresh clothes in a minute," you step back and close a partition that separates the tub from prying eyes.

"If you need me, I'll be right outside. I'll hear you," you give him another smile and go to leave. You hear him give a quiet 'thank you', and you close the door.

-*-

Bucky had spent a long time in the bath, at least an hour after you brought him a new change of clothes. He probably needed it more than he thought. You could hear his audible sigh of relief when he did sink into the hot water beneath the bubbles, and it brought a smile to your face.

You were rearranging the couch cushions and blankets when you smelled the fresh scent of woodsmoke, mint, and now lavender come into the room. You stood and faced Bucky as he shuffled on his feet, shoulders pulled up tight by his ears.

The jeans you gave him were a little snug but fit him better than the others. A borrowed red Henley from Bruce was a tight fit, but you doubt Bucky would fit into anything else. The plain zip-up hoodie you found was gripped tight in his left hand, the same combat boots adorn his feet.

Bucky stood awkward in the living space, eyebrows drawn together as he stared at you. He was as big as a bear but somehow made himself seem small under your gaze.

"I made sandwiches," you tell him, gesturing to the coffee table behind you. He perks up a little bit, eyes bright. He takes a hesitant step forward and then another until he's standing at the end of the large couch. You take a seat in the middle of the blankets you just arranged, feet tucked under you as you wait. When he doesn't make a move, you pat the cushion next to you, giving him a reassuring smile.

Bucky sits rigid next to you, hands balled into fists on his knees. You grab a sandwich and one for him, too. He takes it from you with a small nod and waits for you to start eating before he does the same.

He makes a small noise in the back of his throat, a sound that chokes, a sound of held back elation. And before you know it, he's finished the sandwich before you could take another bite.

His waterline is wet when he looks over at you, and you hand him your sandwich and grab another one.

"You can eat as much as you want," "There's plenty of food," you tell him between chews. He's had two more before you could finish one, and it makes you chuckle.

-*-

You were warm. The last thing you remember was being content and sleepy. Now you were warm and wrapped in your blankets and something very, very warm. You don't remember Shifting, but you feel it as you come back to consciousness. You purr and lazily lift your tail in a slow wag. There's a hand that runs over your head and down your neck, over your shoulder blades, and repeats the ministrations again.

Your eyes blink open, and you're met with steel blue ones. You're both encased in your blankets, laying down and your head on Bucky's chest, his left arm behind his head, and flesh hand buried in your fur. The longer you look at him, the pinker his cheeks become.

You yawn loudly and stretch, plopping your head back down on his chest and licking your chops. There's a small smile pulling the corner of his lips, and he ruffles your head so much your ears flop back and forth. A half yawn half growl leaves you, and you put your paw on Bucky's face, and he laughs. He laughs loud and full, and it makes you pause, head tilting to the side, and ears flop over as you stare at him.

He looks back at you, a smile still on his face, "What?" You yip, paws coming down on his chest playfully, then leap from the couch and trot around the coffee table. You bark louder, and Bucky sits up, leaning forward with his arms on his knees. He lifts a hand, and you bring your head under it for him to pat.

"It's easier for me to talk when you're like this," he says quietly. You vaguely remember soft rumbles of his voice in your ear while you slept. "I can't remember the last time I had a conversation with someone. Well-" he shrugs a little, "half a conversation." His eyes go distant for a moment, then they focus back to you, and Bucky sighs.

"You should hate me," he drops his hand back to his lap and looks away from you. "After what I did to your family. What I've done to countless others since then."

Part of you agrees with Bucky. You tried to hate him, wanted to hate him. Maybe somewhere deep inside you, you do hate him, the Winter Soldier, at least. But there’s no more blind rage when you think of the man in front of you now. Not the rage your brother feels towards him, or the anger Leon feels at you for protecting Bucky, even after all he did.

You realize he’s still talking, but he's staring down at his hands as they wring together. Bucky’s head is down, his long hair falling into his face hiding his eyes from view. You can smell the sorrow on him, his sweet mint scent gone stale, the woodsmoke he smells like turning to burnt charcoal.

You whine, placing your head on top of Bucky’s hands, and he grabs your head, burying his fingers in your fur. He heaves a heavy sigh.

“Sorry, Petal,” he mumbles and runs a hand over your head.

There’s a buzzing from the coffee table, and you jerk your head over to see it, Tony’s name flashing across the screen, and your tail wags on its own. You tug one of the blankets off the couch and cover yourself with it as best you can before you Shift. When you do, you bring the blanket up around your shoulders and hide your body as much as you can before you pick up your phone.

You're smiling when you answer, sitting down next to Bucky on the couch.

"Hi," you breathe out, adjusting the blanket around you more.

"Hi, pretty girl," Tony's voice comes through the phone. "Sorry to call so late."

And you realize it's dark out, the lights of the city below shining like stars as you look out the windows.

"Oh," you look at Bucky, who just shrugs. "I didn't even notice, I was Shifted most of the day." He hums on the line. You hear him scratch his goatee through the phone.

"Isn't it also really late for you, too?" You ask him.

"Guess I'm still on New York time," you can just imagine his shrug, and then. A tiny spark goes up your spine. He must be touching the mark on his neck.

"Tony," you warn. And then the tingling stops. He clears his throat and chuckles.

"I uh, was just calling to let you know I might not be home in time for the full moon," he sounds a little sad.

You get up from the couch and grab your discarded clothes, and make your way to your shared bedroom, giving Bucky one last glance before disappearing down the hall.

"That's ok, love. I've spent plenty of full moon's by myself," you say as you get dressed. Peering down the hall, you can see Bucky still on the couch, "I've um - James is here."

It's silent for a minute, and you think maybe Tony hung up, but then there's a heavy sigh in your ear, and you worry if you've upset him.

"Yeah, I know."

Oh. "I couldn't leave him. Not when he's so lost."

"I know."

You kind of wish he'd shout or get frustrated.

"I'm not upset with you, Poppy. I may not feel the same, but I trust your instincts on things I couldn't even comprehend. So if you need to do this, I trust you."

You smile, a little teary eyed, as you make your way back to Bucky.

"Maybe call Spangles, and let him know his childhood crush is sleeping on my couch, yeah?" Tony half jokes.

You hum, “I’ll talk to him about it,” you say as you sit on the couch.

Tony hums this time, "Call him, Pops, he deserves to know. I'll see you soon, ok?"

"Yeah, alright."

"Love you, Popsicle."

"Love you too, Tones."

It's quiet for a while after you hang up the phone. Bucky is in your nest of blankets, his metal fingers pressing and picking at the callouses on his flesh hand. You're sure he heard your conversation with Tony. He hasn't looked up from his hands since you reentered the room.

"James -"

His eyes cut to you, and you swear they shine, lighting up in warning. Just a flash; if you blinked, you would have missed it.

"James, I think Tony might be right," you start again. Bucky shakes his head. "He can help you better than I ever could. He understands. You just need to trust him."

You reach over and place your hand on top of his, and he looks over at you again.

"I don't even know who I am most of the time," he whispers. "How can I face him after-" You squeeze his hands in assurance.

"We can take it all one step at a time," you say quietly. There's an itch under your skin, and you shudder. Your phone lights up, and there's a winking emoji under Tony's name, and you curse him under your breath.

"One step at a time," Bucky repeats, a faint smile pulling at his lips.

-*-

AN: I really wasn’t sure where this was going anymore, so I just said fuck it and just letting whatever comes to me and writing it down. Thank you for reading!!

#tony stark x reader #shifter!reader #mcu fanfiction #tony stark x shifter!reader #tony stark imagine #Bucky Barnes needs a hug

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regis-emmy · 1 year

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Wanted: One Night’s Sleep

Bucky scrolls through the forum, his eyes burning from lack of sleep. It’s full of hopeful posts from alphas and omegas looking to make discreet connections without commitment. He frowns, only seeing people reaching out for casual sex. Not exactly what he's looking for. His hands shake nervously as he begins typing up his own post.

white_wolf: Looking for a companion to make the lonely nights easier. Not interested in casual sexual encounters- just tired of sleeping alone. Willing to provide financial compensation, transportation, anything for the right person. Message me to discuss details.

He hesitates for a beat, and then posts it.

***************

Sophie brow furrows when the new post pops up at the head of her search.

“Tired of… sleeping alone?” She murmurs to herself, her eyes scanning his words curiously. It’s not often she sees requests like this one. The men on this site are usually just looking for a quick hole to stick their knot in, not a cuddle buddy. She frowns, reading the post again.

Financial compensation, transportation, all that just for… a sleepover? She thinks skeptically. Still… Rent’s coming up, and she could definitely use the extra cash. It would be a lot easier than most of the jobs she found through this site.

This has to be too good to be true,” she mutters, clicking on his blank profile anyways and drafting a response message.

cuddlebunnyy: hi, I saw your post. you really just want someone to sleepover? no funny business?

white_wolf: I don’t know why that’s so hard to believe, but yes.

cuddlebunnyy: most guys expect a little more than that, especially if they’re paying for it

white_wolf: Well I don’t.

cuddlebunnyy: interesting

cuddlebunnyy: how much are you willing to pay?

white_wolf: I was thinking this for the first night, to see if we’re a good fit. Then we can discuss where to go from there.

Sophie’s jaw drops, her glued to the number on the screen. He was offering how much just for her to come over and spend the night?

cuddlebunnyy: are you serious?

white_wolf: Are you?

*This is the first chapter of my Bucky fic “Wanted: One Night’s Sleep” ! The whole thing is on Ao3 (@regis_emmy) if you want to read more :)

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes needs a hug #alpha beta omega #omegaverse

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bbyboybucket · 1 year

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Christmas one shot is here!

Summary:

It was almost laughable that his own reminiscence was the enemy, and he was losing the battle.

Or:

Christmas is a particularly grueling time for Bucky.

#don’t mind me #just promoting this more efficiently bc I like attention and want more traction on it #so yeah sorry for bombarding y’all with my attention-whore ways #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fic #Bucky Barnes one shot #TFATWS #tfatws fanfiction #gen fic #Bucky-centric fic #bucky barnes needs a hug

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lynlee494 · 7 months

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The glaring mistake in Bucky Barnes’s plan so far, named Tony Stark, had for sure already alerted Clint and Natasha...

...and sure enough Clint does get a panicked call from Tony, who has to repeat himself twice and send the security footage before the archer can believe that Bucky Barnes had just killed two members of the Avengers. Clint swears he sees something there, and Clint Barton makes the choice to stay and try to persuade his friend to come with him to get help.

Clint thinks he knows where at least some of this mess may have started...

Stroking Bucky’s back in repetitive circles after clearing his airway, Clint had done for Bucky what Coulson used to do for him. Told Bucky where he was over and over as he heard the team over the comm – with all of them having sounded absolutely wrecked. Iron Man was out after Hulk, and the rest sounded physically unharmed.

So Clint had just sat there and wiped the sweat soaked hair out of Bucky’s face, and when Barton found himself at a loss for words he just began again from the beginning:

"I’m your friend. You are an Avenger, you are one of us. We had cold pizza for breakfast. You loved it."

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lovemesomerafael · 1 year

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The first chapter of Section 3 of “Can’t Read That In A Museum: The Whole Story of Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes” is posted!

The Road Home

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers Characters: Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes, Sam Wilson, The Falcon, The Winter Soldier, Captain America - Character, Natasha Romanoff, the black widow - Character, Original Characters, Maria Hill Series: Part 3 of Can't Read That In A Museum: The Whole Story of Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes Summary:

Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes have each learned that the other is alive in 2014. Impossibly, they're both only a few years older than when they were separated in 1945.

Finding their way back to one another, however, is going to be a long, long road.

#Steve Rogers #Bucky Barnes #Stucky #Captain America #The Winter Soldier #Chris Evans #Sebastian Stan #Recovering Bucky #Recovering Steve #Steve Rogers needs a hug #Bucky Barnes needs a hug #I need a hug from Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes #MCU #The Avengers

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bittersweet-in-boston · 2 years

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Zombie AU! B is a zombie and perfectly happy — or at least as happy as zombies get — riding out the apocalypse in his abandoned airport home and venturing out in search of human flesh and brains. And then he meets human Steve on a regular food run and everything changes.

#stucky #zombie bucky barnes #human steve rogers #grumpy smol steve #zombie au #natasha romanov #clint barton #zombie-typical violence #cannibalism #love at first chomp #zombie pining #bucky barnes needs a hug #and a heartbeat

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burberrycanary · 1 month

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Lost Vocabularies that Might Express (The Memory of These Broken Impressions)

Stucky, Endgame Fix-it, Road Trip Get Together

An expression crosses Bucky’s face like a shadow, tightly controlled and gone fast. But he rolls his head to the side, looking over at Steve, calm and steady, worn by life and changed so much but still here, by this small fire and lit with the unsteady golden glow, under these too many stars.

“Everywhere I go,” Bucky says, “the past is this pit. But I’ve got to keep it behind me, because if I don’t, I’ll fall in. And someday I’m not going to have the strength to crawl back out. So it’s got to stay behind me, Steve—the big nothing right at the back of my feet.”

Steve stares at his walking-around miracle brought back to him by so much carnage and wretched injustice he’ll never be able to set right, not in all his remaining days.

Because here’s the truth: he’s never once caught Bucky and every time he’s ended up following, he’s been too late to save him from all this suffering—the war, the future, and the long fall into the cold that came in between.

Honesty is all he has to give, which may just be adding to the burdens of a man doomed to carry a terrible load he can’t put down.

But maybe there’s something in the old paradox: the weight that makes you feel lighter.

Maybe that’s what loving someone is.

Read Chapter 46 on AO3

Only one more chapter to go—I'm almost done with this! Many thanks to my betas @village-skeptic, @booksandabeer and @zenaidamacrouras1 🥰

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painted-doe · 2 years

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New chapter is up, at long last!

#fanfiction #fanfic #mcu fanfic #bucky barnes goes to therapy #The Barnes Files #Bucky Barnes #Bucky Barnes Needs A Hug #bucky barnes recovering

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darthbloodorange · 2 years

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Bucky watched as Steve went down hard during the mission, unable to do anything. He stands by Steve's side during surgery, holding Steve down as he screamed and begged, wishing he could have done something to save him.

For the: ✦ Stucky Bingo Round 3 "Whump" [G5] (SB033)

Word count: N/a - Moodboard Title: Like a Nightmare Rating: Teens Universe: Marvel Cinematic Universe Pairings: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers Characters: Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes Warnings: Graphic Violence, Blood and Injury, Surgery Major Tags: Whump, Hurt/Comfort, Broken Bones, Injured Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug ~ Summery: Bucky watched as Steve went down hard during the mission, unable to do anything. He stands by Steve's side during surgery, holding Steve down as he screamed and begged, wishing he could have done something to save him.

#stucky bingo #Stucky #Steve Rogers #Captain America #Bucky Barnes #Winter Soldier #Marvel #Marvel Cinematic Universe #Blood.#Injury.#Surgery.#Whump #Hurt/Comfort #Injured Steve Rogers #teve Rogers Needs a Hug #Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug #DarthBloodOrange #DBO Moodboards #Moodboards

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crushedbyhyperbole · 1 year

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The Pen is Mighty

Summary: Bucky goes to therapy where his shrink encourages him to write a letter to help acknowledge and sort his emotions and thoughts. (First person narrative from Bucky’s POV.)

Words: ~1.8k

Note: I wrote this before TFATWS was even a thing. It’s set after CACW and I totally ignore that Infinity War ever happened. This is part 3 of the Muscle Memory series with Bucky and OFC Dr Veroinca Edwards (though she’s not present in this fic). I wanted to show how some of Bucky's thoughts changed as he progressed through the exercise. The way he moved on a little from blaming himself to acceptance, how he started to acknowledge his real feelings for Veronica and how he progressed through the stages using different names for her.

Bucky’s “letters” are in bold block quotes.

Warnings: Angst, emotional hurt, Bucky is in therapy, past trauma, guilt. It has to be said that I’m not a therapist nor indeed have I been to therapy so none of this is accurate therapy stuff.

Main Masterlist

Sunlight permeated through the vertical blinds of Dr Daniel Rodriguez’s office. It was too bright and cheery for my liking, not very fitting at all for my mood.

I felt like an open wound that had been stuffed with broken glass and salt. I was a raw nerve, feeling everything and trying to feel nothing. It was all so impossible.

Dan had helped me get back a lot of my memories from before HYDRA, and the words. He worked with me all the while I was in Wakanda and was one of The Avengers’ go to emotional support team. We had weekly sessions but this one was an additional meeting.

Steve had made it clear he would book me in for a session if I didn’t go, but I had called the shrink myself anyway.

“I want you to write a letter.” Dan had told me at the beginning of our session. “It could be to yourself as a way to start forgiving yourself and help sort some of those emotions out. Or it could be to someone who you maybe want to get some things off your chest to. No one but you needs to see it if you don’t want to. One step at a time. But to acknowledge the things you feel is to take a step in the direction of a solution.”

So there I sat, at the table in the too bright therapy room, with a pen and an empty page in front of me.

What do I say? I needed to apologise for starters, but how.

Just write anything. Unburden your brain.

Ok, here goes.

Dear Dr Edwards,

I’m writing to you because my shrink says it’s a good idea to help me process my trauma and deal with some of the things I been feeling lately.

Nope. No good.

Dear Veronica,

I’m writing to apologise for what I did to you during your assessment. It was wrong of me to take it too far and I’m sorry that I hurt you.

I don’t know why you don’t like me but I accept that we’re not going to be friends. Maybe we could call a truce instead? I’ve

No good either.

Dear Ronny,

There are some things I want to say to you but obviously I don’t know how. It’s like there’s a knot inside that twists and aches. I don’t know what it is but it’s not like the trauma stuff PTSD. I know I’ve hurt you, and I’m sorry. I saw the reports and hate myself for what I did. You won’t forgive I won’t ask you to forgive me but please know I’m struggling with the guilt deeply sorry.

We don’t really get along and I know that’s my fault. I only ever seem to break things but I think that’s maybe because I feel like I don’t deserve better. I know you’ve tried to help me but for whatever reason I was unable to accept it. I’m sorry for that too. You don’t owe me anything but I appreciate all the things you have done, with the arm and all that.

Look, I’m not very good at

When we first met, I felt we had a connection but I’m not good for people so I pushed you away

Tony wants to send me back to Wakanda

When I overheard you saying to Wanda that you thought we had a connection I was

When you told Wanda that you’d studied me, it made me feel angry. I’d hoped I was more than just a project not just a project. I’ve been trying to become less subhuman and to be more myself. It’s taking time.

When you and I met, I wasn’t equipped for the kind of friendship you were offering that we may have had, and now that I am ready it’s too late. I wish I hadn’t pushed you away. I wish that I could take it all back but I can’t. No matter how you feel about me I have to tell you that I don’t hate you, you just make me uneasy. It’s not your fault, it’s mine. You’re a strong woman, confident and beautiful. If I'm honest with myself You’re a little intimidating.

I can honestly say that I don’t dislike you, if anything it’s the opposite. I like you a lot and that is something I shouldn’t feel. Everyone tells me that I deserve happiness but I don’t see it that way, I guess that’s why I pushed you away, because I was scared that you could give me that but I thought maybe you wouldn’t feel the same I don’t know if I’m worth all of that.

Nope. Can’t do this.

I scrunched the letter up and tossed it in the waste basket.

Dear Tony,

There are no words in any language that are good enough to say how sorry I am for

Ahh fuck!

I scrunched that one up too and it joined the first in the trash.

Dear Bucky,

You’re an asshat.

Pull yourself together. You’ve got a great chance of getting your life back together and if you can’t get a grip on yourself you’re going to fuck it up like everything else.

You were a victim of some

Don’t get stuck in your own head

Listen, punk. You’ve been through some tough times. You’ve known torment far worse than most and you survived. You came through the other side, not without scars, but you made it through. You’re stronger than this but not just that

It’s ok to be vulnerable. It’s ok to hurt. There’s no weakness in accepting help or asking for it. There’s no weakness in saying that you’re a victim. There’s nothing wrong with acknowledging things were out of your control, and accepting that they happened. They weren’t your fault and you should forgive yourself.

You’re not alone and you don’t have to pretend like you want to be alone. Don’t be afraid to let people in. Don’t be afraid to cry. Don’t be afraid of yourself, you’re not a monster. Every day you spend crippled by your fear is another day that they win. Don’t let them win.

No matter what you’ve done in their name, you didn’t choose it. No matter how they broke you, it didn’t end you. No matter how you feel about yourself, it doesn’t have to be that way. You deserve

If I could give you 1 piece of advice it would be this: Forgive yourself. Choose happiness because you deserve something good in your life.

And for everything you think you’ve done wrong… I forgive you.

Sincerely yours,

A friend.

I wrote as if I was giving advice to Steve if he’d have been in my shoes. It was oddly liberating, thinking of my situation from the outside. I’d never really thought about it like that before, and how it would feel to watch my best friend go through all of this fucked up shit.

My eyes stung with withheld tears and my chest burned. It could have been indigestion I suppose but…

Quit the jokes. I told myself sternly.

It hurt. That was the bottom line. And everyone around me had a little share in that hurt. Watching from the side-lines was in no way the same as living it but if anyone understood what I was going through it was the people here at Avengers central. The collective trauma here in this compound was staggering. My own adding significantly to the substantial pile of baggage that these guys left at the door. Except I carried mine with me like a fucking pack mule.

The fear would probably always still be there but I could work on it. Take steps.

“How’s it going?” Dan had returned with two cups of black coffee.

“Alright, I guess.” I waved the paper in front of me. “I wrote stuff.”

He laughed; a quick and light chuckle. “That’s good.” He set a cup down on the table by my hand. “If and when you’re ready to share it you go ahead and let me know.”

“Knock yourself out, man.” I slid the page over.

He read slowly, pausing over some of the words, then he smiled big. “Oh we’re forgiving poor old Bucky now are we?”

I knew he was trying to lighten the mood a little, and it kinda worked, making me less self-conscious. I nodded, giving a slight thin-lipped smile.

“Good.” Dan clapped his hand on my shoulder, giving me a reassuring squeeze. “I think it’s about time he at least told himself it was possible.”

I can’t say that I felt unburdened but, having wrote a few things down and started thinking about them less abjectly, it at least gave names to some of the things I felt. Most of it was guilt. That one was easy. But there were others in there that I was unused to feeling, ones that had almost been tortured out of me by HYDRA. My friendship with Steve bridged the two lives I had occupied and rooted him in the one I had now. The other Avengers, I had a kind of camaraderie with that was reminiscent of my days with the howling commandos; it was something I could draw on. But the other feelings, they were corrupted by the emotional poison the HYDRA conditioning left behind.

Realising that made me think that maybe the negative feelings I felt about the good Dr Edwards hadn’t started off like that. Not Like my friendship with Steve but something a lot more dangerous. I liked her. I could say that with confidence now I’d been able to label that uneasy feeling as fondness. It was something that would leave me vulnerable, so I’d dealt with it the only way I knew how; I’d shut it down and treated it with hostility. Truly a soldier inside, I’d protected myself against that perceived weakness.

It might be too late to change any of that but it wasn’t too late to try not to make it any worse. I would talk to Veronica, soon. But for now my courage against the inner darkness was waning, I was just about done pushing the boundaries of my emotional analysis for one day.

There were a few more minutes left in my session with Dan. He talked about how terrible my handwriting was for someone who went to school in the roaring twenties and thirties, while I sipped the hot coffee and watched the sunlight through the blinds. It warmed a little spot somewhere inside that I had forgot existed. Maybe I’d go sit on the roof later and get some sun. It looked like it was going to be a decent day after all.

#bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fan fic #bucky barnes recovering #bucky barnes needs a hug #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes in therapy #cloudy's writing

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