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atlaese · 3 years

Text

Black holes

Summary: you've both got a dark history, no way something could ever happen, right? Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader Words: 13K lmao i went OFF TW: talking about mental health, anxiety, depression, talking about violence, probably some death, food, cursing, angst, eventual fluff, tfatws spoilers, bad writing™ from yours truly, yes that should be it? A/N: this absolute beast has been a long long time in the making, and im very proud of this baby <3 like i put my heart on a silver platter and i offer it to you 🫀. i hope you enjoy it as much as i enjoyed writing it. This was written mostly to take a break from studying for finals, so do excuse any typos or weird thingys. the first part is based on an actual conversation I had with my therapist about why I’m so single™ i love feedback :)))) (so let's hear those thoughts! 💞) i'm actually so scared to post this lmao let's hope it doesn't flop

Song I listened to and got some lines out: Black Hole by Griff

MARVEL MASTERLIST | BUCKY BARNES MASTERLIST

Week 1

“I trust people,” the words slowly left his mouth, not convincing dr. Raynor at all. It didn’t convince himself fully either, to be honest.

“Okay, give me your phone,” Dr Raynor bent over, holding out her palm, a stern look on her face.

“You don’t have ten phone numbers on this thing. Oh, and you’ve been ignoring the texts from Sam. Look, you gotta nurture friendships, I am the only person you have called all week. That is so sad,” she scoffed as she flipped the phone closed and threw it back over to Bucky. “You’re alone. You’re a 100 years old. You have no history, no family-“

“Are you lashing out at me doc? Cause that’s really unprofessional you know,” Bucky grunted, “I mean when did that start, when you started yelling at your clients?”

Dr. Raynor smacked the notepad on her thigh, aggressively scribbling stuff down.

“Oh, the notebook. That’s great.”

“Alright, give me a break, I’m trying okay? This is new for me,” he sighed after a second, “I didn’t have a moment to deal with anything, you know.

“I had a little… calm in Wakanda, and other than that I went from one flight to another for 90 years.”

“So, now that you’ve stopped fighting, what do you want?”

What did he want? A normal life? No one that looked at him weird when they saw his arm? Not feeling like a killing machine that could let loose any second?

He eye twitched as he mulled over his thoughts, the next words tasting bitter, “peace.”

“That is utter bullshit!” she scoffed, not believing one word he had said this whole session.

“You’re a terrible shrink,” he offered, his lips twisted into a frown.

“I was an excellent soldier. I saw a lot of dead bodies and I know how that can shut you down,” dr. Raynor recalled, “and if you were alone, that is the quietest most personal hell, and James, it is very hard to escape.

“Look I know that you’ve been through a lot, but you got your mind back, you are being pardoned, I mean these are good things.

“You’re free,” she added after a moment, trying to get a reaction out of him.

“To do what?” His voice was monotone and steely. He was free, but if this is what freedom felt like, he’d rather be back alone in Wakanda.

“You need friends, James. You need other people in your life to be happy and to have that so called peace you wish for,” she started, trying to get eye contact but failing as Bucky kept looking behind her.

Bucky just shrugged and looked down at his hands again, refusing to say anything. Deep down he realized she was right, but she had no idea what he had been through for the last 90 years. She didn’t realize how hard it was to trust people other people again, as well as trusting that his goddamn mind wouldn’t get reset again and turn him back into him.

“I’ll work on it,” he grimly said, just to get her off his back.

Dr. Raynor glanced at her watch, “we have 15 minutes left, anything else you want to get off your chest?”

* * *

A few rooms over, you were also in a session with your therapist. The anxiety that used to take over your entire life, eventually caused you to look for a therapist. It had gotten better a little bit already, however your therapist also wanted to address some other stuff she noticed in you during the intense sessions.

“y/n, you keep mentioning, and I quote, ‘my ass is so single, I have to grab it myself’,” a sigh left her mouth, looking through the notes she jotted down over all the previous sessions. “but I don’t ever recall you doing something about that, right?”

“Well, no, not exactly no. I can only complain about it,” you slumped a little further into the couch, eyes focussed on the creases that lined your palms. Eye contact with dr. Russo was way too intense for your liking sometimes. She never blinked, almost trying to hypnotize you and it scared you a little.

“Instead of complaining, you could either go on dating apps or go on dates, or you know, stay alone but stop complaining?” she offered, a sly smirk on her face as your eyes snapped up towards hers, finally looking at her straight for the first time this session.

“Yeah, well I tried online dating. It sucks. I match with someone and they never reach out. And real life dating sucks as well. No one has ever asked me on a date.”

Dr. Russo scribbled something in her notepad again, making you sigh and look around her office. The taxidermy butterflies on the wall behind her creeped you out a little. What kinda shrink was she if she had dead animals propped up as decoration?

“So it never occurred to you that you could send the first message? Or ask someone out?”

Glancing up towards the ceiling, you blew out your cheeks, “well, if you say it like that, it’s easy!”

“Wow, I never thought about that before, thanks doc!” you exclaimed, now looking down at your phone to check the time, “Oh no, it’s been an hour already. Well, I guess we’re out of time, see you next week!”

You quickly stood up to leave the room and dr. Russo cleared her throat, “at least make some friends y/n! You can’t stay alone forever!”

The hallway was empty as you stepped away from dr. Russo’s office, the very last one in the long hallway. Just before you reached the door to the lobby, the door next to you opened and a man fully dressed in black stumbled out, a pissed off look set on his face. His body collided with yours and you almost lost your balance.

“Watch out, asswipe!” you shrieked, speeding off without actually checking on the guy.

“Jesus, good day to you too,” he called out behind you.

Just as you reached the door handle, you turned around slightly and gave him the finger. Whatever this guy thought he was, he was the one who didn’t look both ways before stepping out the door.

Bucky’s mouth fell open as he watched the woman give him the finger and then slam the door in his face. Whatever her therapist had said to her must have really ruined her day.

Bucky left the building, opting to go for a walk instead straight home. He couldn’t bear the look on Yori’s face when he talked about his dead son after today’s session. Maybe he should swing by next week, they could go to Izzy’s again for sushi.

Week 2

“Dude, its trash! What does it matter?” your voice pitched a little higher, upset that your neighbour, mr. Nakajima, wouldn’t let you use his trash can for the much needed take out you had ordered after your therapy session.

“y/n, you’ve got your own. Why are you so lazy? This generation,” he shook his head as he turned around to pull out the bag.

“Here, use your own!” he pushed the trash bag in your arms and you stumbled back a little, not expecting mr. Nakajima to actually pull out your trash from the smelly trash can.

“Come on, man. I don’t have any trash bags and I can barely afford rent,” you gave a bitter laugh, “we’re already stuck in this shithole, we should stick together Yori!”

Mr. Nakajima pressed a finger against your shoulder, “it’s mr. Nakajima, and you don’t even answer the door when I knock! That makes it very hard to be neighbourly!”

Before you could respond, a buff guy stepped in between you and mr. Nakajima, a pointed look on his face as he calmed down the older man.

“Hey! We were talking!” you gesticulated, waving a finger between you and Yori. Whoever this guy was, butting in to a conversation was rude - even when said conversation was more like an argument.

The guy turned towards you now, “sorry, ’m Bucky,” he mumbled, checking your face two times because you seemed very familiar, he just couldn’t put his finger on it.

“Yori’s just a bit stressed from being cooped up all day.”

“Well, Yori,” you emphasized his name, a bit pissed that he could address the older man by his first name, “should go out more then.”

Mr. Nakajima luckily was held back by Bucky, because you were sure the old man would pounce on you, the look on his face telling all.

“Do I know you from somewhere?” Bucky implored, keeping his hand on Yori’s shoulder. Were you a relative of someone on his list of amends or something?

“I live in the building, apartment next to him,” you nodded towards Yori, “I’m y/n.”

“Ah, okay, well Yori and I were just on our way to Izzy’s right? It’s Wednesday, let’s enjoy some sushi, yeah?”

Bucky lightly pushed Yori the other way and gave you a half-hearted smile and said goodbye, hoping that you wouldn’t trash Yori’s apartment or kick over his bin.

The older man muttered something, but he looked happy to be out and about in the world, with a much younger friend than most of his peers.

Bucky and Yori left you standing in the alley with the trash bag still in your arms. Yori was talking animatedly when Bucky turned his head back towards you and he eyed Yori’s trashcan.

A grin took over your face when you understood what he meant, and you dropped the bag in the trash.

“Have fun!” you yelled out behind them, and mr. Nakajima held up a hand, not even looking back at you as they turned the corner.

Week 3

Walking home from therapy, you grabbed your headphones and blasted classical music through them, trying to push away the feeling of unease that was swirling in your stomach. The noise of the city mixed with the hundreds of people all around you were not helping the anxiety you felt.

You turned the corner to your apartment building when you watched mr. Nakajima being escorted outside by Bucky.

Bucky pressed a gloved hand against the door, holding it open for you. You bent your head as a way of saying thank you and pressed the button for the lift.

A finger tapped you on your shoulder as you were scrolling through your playlist trying to find a certain song and you turned around to face them, the one ear of your headphones pushed away so you could understand them.

“Are you deaf or something?” Bucky asked, pointing to his ears.

“Ah, it’s you again. Taking Yori out on a date again?” The lift dinged and the rickety doors opened slowly.

“Its noise cancellation by the way,” you added, pointing towards your headphones.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Bucky pried, his brows pushed together.

“It means that noise doesn’t filter through,” you stuck your hand between the doors of the lift, preventing it from closing and going up again.

“Are you implying that I’m noise?”

“Yes. Anyway, why are you stopping me? Don’t let the old man wait,” you took a step into the lift, but kept your hand above the sensor, leaving the doors open.

“Well, uh. Here’s the thing,” he scratched the back of his neck and nodded his head towards the backdoor, “Yori said you’re kind of a loner and he also wanted to apologize.”

You ignored the first statement. It wasn’t false anyway, but you were impressed that Yori noticed that.

“Why isn’t Yori here himself then?” you popped out a hip, fully leaning on one leg as you tilted your head a bit, lips pursed.

“We have a reservation at Izzy’s. We go every Wednesday after thera- uh, yeah-, yeah just every Wednesday,” he blushed a little and he gave you a lopsided grin, “his treat, take it or leave it.”

The lift dinged again, signaling it had been waiting for a long period already. You rubbed your face in your hand for a moment before sighing, “sure. I’m hungry anyway."

* * *

The restaurant was very busy for a Wednesday evening. You were sitting next to Bucky at the bar, mr. Nakajima on his other side. The golden maneki-neko was waving at you the whole time, and it distracted you a little from the numerous people in the restaurant. The three of your looked very odd together to say the least: an older man, a younger man wearing gloves inside, and you; bags under your eyes that you were sure could be identified as a new type of black.

Yori had apologized and you had as well, saying you had a bad… week and you promised you would come by once in a while, so he wasn’t as lonely in his apartment. Yori was actually pretty cool you figured, as he was pestering Bucky the whole time about his love life, as well as how bad he was holding his chopsticks.

Yori was trying to get Bucky to ask out the waitress, and you amusedly popped a piece of sushi in your mouth as you listened to their bickering.

Bucky was shaking his head and giving Yori a death stare as he asked Leah out for him. Your gaze flitted between Bucky and Leah and you could see the wheels turning in her head trying to figure out the relationship between you and Bucky.

You stared back down at your plate, deciding which piece of sushi would be next, trying to send the hint that there was nothing going on between you. For Leah that was a sign you were not interested at all. She agreed and told Bucky when her shift ended.

“Wow, Yori, you’re quite the matchmaker, aren’t you?” The question was kind of muffled as you had just popped a big piece of sushi in your mouth, but Yori fervently nodded anyway.

“I used to do it to my son all the time,” he recalled better times where his son was still alive, “nothing ever came of it, but at least he was out for an evening.”

Bucky was staring at his beer bottle, an uncomfortable look across his face and you wondered why the subject of death made him so uncomfortable. To think of it, you had no idea who this guy was, beside a first name.

You nudged his bottle of beer with yours and raised your eyebrows in question. He just shook his head and stood up, announcing that he needed a breath of fresh air.

Yori had moved on to talking to the person next to him, asking about their age and mentioning how many people had died that week of old age.

You slipped out of your seat, not yet comfortable enough with Yori to butt in the conversation, and followed Bucky outside into the fresh air, curious as to why he suddenly felt uneasy when before he looked perfectly fine.

He was leaning against the wall staring up at the night sky, a small notebook clasped between his gloved hands.

When you cleared your throat, he quickly put away the notebook in the pocket of his black pants and straightened up his stance.

“It’s real stuffy inside,” you offered as a reason, taking a deep breath of fresh air. It had actually become quite busy, busier than you could handle at the moment.

He pursed his lips in acknowledgment, but didn't actually say something.

It was actually pretty calm in the part of the city, an occasional hoot of a horn somewhere in the distance the only thing disturbing the comfortable silence.

“It’s nice that you take Yori out every week,” you broke the silence after a bit, “I know I made fun of it but I’m sure he appreciates it.”

The pained look on his face was gone after a second, but you caught it anyway. Up until that point you just thought it was neighbourly and out of pure friendliness, but there might have been another reason. It did feel like something personal, something you weren’t supposed to ask about.

“Yeah, gets him out of his apartment and me too, I guess,” he finally decided upon, masking his feelings and putting on a smile.

“I don’t believe someone like you doesn’t go out much, you look like a chick-magnet.”

“No, a person-magnet in general,” you added, looking him up and down. You had to admit, he was easy on the eyes, the scowl he usually wore adding a certain type of mysteriousness that drew even you in.

“Geez, thanks,” he scoffed, blushing a little nonetheless.

“What’s your excuse for cooping up in your apartment?” he returned the question, “I’m sure you’re a ‘person magnet’ too.” He even used his fingers as quotation marks, which made you laugh.

“Great question for another time, Bucky,” you looked down at your phone. It was getting late and this question hit a little too close to home for now.

A corner of his mouth lifted, “another time, huh?”

“See you later, Bucky,” you winked.

You went back inside to grab your coat, pay your part of the bill - you didn't feel comfortable with Yori paying for you -, and say goodbye to Yori, promising him once again to visit him once in a while.

When you got back outside again, Bucky was on the phone, listening to a voicemail it seemed like. A line was deep set on his forehead, but he smiled as you waved goodbye at him.

Bucky was a quiet soul, but you felt that there was some darkness hidden deep inside of him. The darkness that harnessed your soul as well, and damn you if it didn’t drew you in.

Week 7

“Okay, y/n, let’s circle back to why you’re here in the first place,” dr. Russo said, her pen ready to take notes.

“Fuck this,” you whispered to yourself, but dr. Russo had heard it and was already writing down something in that stupid notebook of hers.

It stayed quiet for a minute. It’s not that you didn’t want to talk about it. It was so hard to get the words over your lips as images flashed through your brain, making you relive on of the worst moments of your life over and over again. The moment your life bursted out like a supernova, destroying everything in its way.

“What if I asked you to rank how bad it still influences your day to day life, on a scale from 1 being nothing to 10 a lot?” She tried, her gaze set on your face, willing you to say something, anything.

You heard the explosion before you saw it, too busy laughing with the driver instead of looking in front of you. The car in front of you exploded when it drove over a hidden roadside bomb, the wreck flipping over onto its roof. The vehicle you were in slammed on the brakes and it slid to a halt as all oxygen left your lungs. Your colleagues, your colleagues were in that car that just exploded right in front of your eyes. Laura, your colleague, whose brown curls were still bouncy even after wearing a helmet all day. Laura, who just got engaged to her girlfriend. Laura, who just-

“Like a 7, I would say,” you guessed after thinking for moment. You tried to keep your emotions under wraps, tried to have a blank slate on your face. You couldn’t risk breaking again, setting back the months of work you had already done.

“Okay, 3 months ago it was a 12, so I would say that’s an improvement, y/n,” dr. Russo smiled. “I’m very proud of all the work you’ve put in y/n,” she added, emphasizing your name. It didn’t even matter if she said your name or not, the numbness just took over sometimes, so far that when someone said your name, you didn’t even react.

What were you supposed to say now, thank you? Thank you for helping you getting out of the deep hole you couldn’t get yourself out of, not that you had tried very hard anyway. Thank you for filling the black hole that replaced your heart and made it impossible to connect to other human beings.

“Yeah, sure,” you mumbled as you stared at the butterflies again. Some were dark, fully opaque colours with a speck of colour mixed in. Others were a million and one colours, alive and vibrant. The darker ones always drew you in more, ever since you started coming here.

“So, let’s talk about Nadir, the local man who translated and interpreted for you, yes?” dr. Russo was digging deep in this session, picking at each and every one of the trauma’s you suffered after your humanitarian aid mission in the middle east.

“Help!” The pained voice sounded over the loud ringing that was going through your head. The team and you had stumbled out of the car one after the other, looking at the burning wreck in front of you. Nadir was on his motorcycle just behind the first car, he was lying down on the ground, his bike on top of his lower body, debris of the car piled on top of him as well. The team had sped to his rescue, pushed the bike off of him after a quick check to make sure it wouldn’t cause any more harm. It wouldn’t be okay. Nadir would never use his right leg again. Nadir didn’t deserve this. No one deserved this-

“I haven’t talked to him since the incident,” your voice came out hoarse, your throat dry as sand paper as you thought about Nadir. Nadir whose smile made everything you had been through worth it. Nadir who probably never wanted to talk to you again.

“Why not? It’s great for trauma survivors to stick together, to talk about it, so it can be processed,” dr. Russo tapped her pen against her notebook, “and you know, Nadir used to be a friend, something you’re in dire need of.”

You felt your jaw tense as she repeated for the millionth time that you needed friends to talk about your stuff. This wasn’t something you could spring on people you just met, why couldn’t she understand that?

“Have you made any friends yet, y/n?” she pried again. You hated how much she said your name, trying to form a rapport and to get your attention every time she asked a question.

“I actually went to dinner with my elderly neighbour and his friend,” you admitted. Maybe she would back off on the friends questions from now on.

“Oh, that’s great! These old folks must be very happy to be on a date with a young woman like you.”

“Uh well, his friend is more my age? I don’t know why or how they’re friends, but he’s nice,” the look of surprise made you realize you had maybe said a bit too much and she quickly wrote down something else in her notebook.

A few more minutes. A few more and you were done for this week. You could put on your headphones, play some classical music to drown out the noise from the city and walk home.

“Maybe ask this friend of his out for dinner? Get to know him, y/n, see it as your assignment for next week. Ask him out, on a date or just as friends. That’s not too hard, right?”

You shot her a dirty look, but she remained unfazed as she closed her notebook without breaking eye contact with you.

“I’m serious, y/n.”

“Ah, shit, sure why not,” you stood up from the couch and pulled on your coat, “see you next week, doc.”

The door closed behind you and you let out a deep sigh, slumping against the wall. These sessions really drained every ounce of energy you had left, so much that all you wanted to do when you got home was order take-out and binge watch some trash tv.

Another door closing snapped you out of your thoughts, and you looked at the other person who had left their therapist’s office.

The figure was very familiar as you racked your brain for whoever this could be.

“Uh, wait!” You yelled in the spur of the moment, not really thinking about the fact that people didn’t particularly like getting recognized leaving a therapy session.

The figure turned around, the look on their face revealing that they also recognized your voice.

“Wait, Bucky?” How the hell was this possible? Your neighbour’s friend had the same time slot on the exact same day, just a different therapist?

“Y/n? What are you doing here?” His gravely voice reached your ears as you stepped closer to him. He looked tired, and bored. God, he must be a fun client in therapy.

“Probably same reason as you,” you narrowed your eyes at him.

“Therapy,” he answered after a beat, nodding lightly, “okay. Are you walking home?”

You nodded and opened the outside door, a gust of wind hitting you in the face immediately. Bucky followed you outside, his gloved hands hanging limply by his side.

“You go to therapy for you staring problem?” You nudged his side and he scoffed.

“You here for your trash problems?” You let your jaw drop, but laughed anyway. You didn’t expect him to actually play along, but the small smile that was present on his face made you realize he did actually like to bicker.

“Um, hey, I really don’t want to ask, but my therapist is making me do this,” you said when you arrived at your apartment building. Your tiredness had to wait, as this was a moment that probably wouldn't happen again any time soon.

He stopped in front of the entrance, a look of puzzlement crossed his face, “sounds intense?”

You nodded, “I’m apparently in dire need of friends, so, uh, would you want to grab dinner?”

“As friends of course,” you quickly added, “I know you’re dating that girl form Izzy’s.”

“Your assignment was for you to ask me out?” He ignored the comment about Leah, his hands now in his front pockets and a cocky smile on his face.

“Please, don’t be a dick about it,” you begged, trying your best not to smile, so you rolled your eyes instead.

“Sure, let’s go,” he stretched out his arm, signaling he was ready to go, “‘m not dating Leah by the way.”

“Wait, what? Didn’t you go out with her?”

“Kinda walked out on her in the middle of the date,” he admitted, an uneasy look on his face as you kept walking through the city.

“You did not,” you gasped, “please tell me you had a good excuse.”

When he didn’t respond for moment, you clicked your tongue disapprovingly, “c’mon Bucky, that’s rude.”

“I left a note the next day, felt bad,” he admitted as you both stopped in front of a small burger joint

You shook your head, “you seem like such a gentleman though!”

“I am!” He exclaimed, “I even got her flowers. Apparently no one does this any more?”

“You’re quite interesting, aren’t you?” So he was a gentleman after all, just not all the time?

“Well, I think people mostly give flowers to someone they’re dating for a long time already. Not that I know, haven’t been on a date in ages.”

“Makes two of us then,” he replied as you sat down at a table, a waiter bringing over the menu’s.

You both ordered a hamburger with fries when the waitress returned. You settled in your seat, leaning back and scanning Bucky’s face.

“So you don’t date,” he asked, but it seemed more like a statement. His fingers were toying with his leather gloves, that he was still wearing inside the restaurant.

The words of dr. Russo shot through your head. Friends talk about this kind of stuff, right? Was this a good point in the barely-there relationship to dump all you problems over him, hoping that he wouldn't walk out on this either?

“There’s this big, black hole where my heart used to be,” you murmured, staring outside at the busy street.

“Just some real shitty stuff happened to me,” you elaborated when you noticed the confused look on his face.

“Wanna talk about it?” He asked as the waitress put down your drinks.

You took a big gulp from your soda, giving yourself a second to form a coherent sentence in your head before answering.

“Uh, I was- I am a humanitarian aid coordinator. I was on a mission in the middle east a few months ago,” the words came out surprisingly easy, easier than when you were in your therapy session.

“We were driving back to our camp when one of our vehicles drove over a hidden roadside bomb. Killed 4 people instantly, another one lost a leg.

“So by sheer luck I’m still here and some of my colleagues aren’t,” you bit down hard on your lower lip, willing the tears back to where they came from.

“So, that’s why I’m in therapy every Wednesday. Real fun,” you concluded, trying to make fun of yourself and your situation but failing miserably.

“How long has it been?” He softly asked. His voice had no hint of pity, it felt more like… understanding?

“Like, three months give or take.”

You both stayed silent when the waitress placed your orders in front of you. Once she left, you immediately took a big bite from the hamburger, not realizing how hungry you actually were.

“Well, this feels like an interrogation, so answer me this; Yori told me you didn’t show up last week, or the week before. Care to explain why you ditched the old man?” You spoke up, popping a fry in your mouth.

He sighed, a grim look appearing on his face, “I uh, I got arrested.”

“Arrested?” Your voice pitched a bit higher, “what are you, a criminal?”

“I missed a court ordered therapy session, so you decide.”

“I didn’t even know court could mandate therapy sessions, what for?” Bucky had asked difficult questions before, now it was your turn.

“I, uh, I was the winter soldier?” He slowly uttered the words. The reaction of people always went one of two ways. Either it was “so cool, you’re like a killing machine dude!” or “ah you murdered all these people? And you get to walk around freely? Jesus, our justice system is messed up.”

“Oh,” you scratched at the chipped nail polish on your finger, “but you were brainwashed? So technically it wasn’t you?”

He let out the breath he was unconsciously holding and straightened his back, “yeah well, the memories are still up here.” He tapped his temple and popped another fry in his mouth.

“Fucking memories are the worst sometimes,” you agreed, downing the rest of your soda with ease.

“Tell me about it. Haven’t had a decent night of sleep in weeks,” he admitted, explaining why he had the dark circles under his eyes.

You pointed at your own, “same. What’s your go-to thing when you wake up after a nightmare?”

A smirk took over his face, he couldn’t believe you were actually bonding over trauma.

“I usually watch tv,” he narrowed his eyes at you, trying to figure out what you would do.

“I think, you go out to have a coffee in a 24/7 shop.”

You were impressed, “wow, that’s… very close actually. But it’s tea and I usually bring a book along with me.”

“Fair enough,” he laughed, exposing a gorgeous smile he had been hiding behind a stoic facade. You couldn’t help but laugh along, the black hole that was your heart not tugging away for once at the wonderful feeling that spread all throughout your body.

Week 9

Dr. Russo’s previous patient had needed a bit more time, so your session had started 25 minutes late. It didn’t happen often, so you just listened a little longer to your music. This also meant that your session was running late as well and you’d have to walk through the city during rush hour.

The sky had turned a pretty pink as the sun was setting for the day. The hallway was deserted as always, and you were kinda disappointed that Bucky’s session hadn’t run late as well. You hadn’t seen him in a while, he was always away for some sort of thing abroad with his partner. You had visited Yori two times, once where you played GO together and the other time just people watched in a small tearoom down the street.

Dr. Russo had proposed you walked home without music today, to get used to the sounds and noises of the vibrant city that was New York. The prospect of walking home without music, without anyone to distract you from the noises scared you a bit, but you bit down on your lip and put away your headphones in your bag.

Sound filtered in immediately when you opened the door to the street, and you took a deep breath before stepping out of the door. Closing your eyes for a second, you tried to get used to everything. A couple of people laughing in the distance, a car that hooted its horn a few blocks away, footsteps passing right in front of you-

“Y/n?”

Your eyes snapped open, immediately connecting to Bucky’s blue eyes.

“Bucky? Uh, I-, I didn’t know you were still here?”

A flush crept its way up from his neck to his cheeks and he scraped his throat, “I, yes, I was hoping to see you, but my session was done and you weren’t there so…”

He waited a second, the tension in the air feeling almost palpable. His voice was a bit rough, you noted.

“I asked the receptionist and yeah-, she explained dr. Russo’s previous session ran out.”

You fiddled with the zipper on your coat, trying to ignore the heat crawling up to your face.

“Uh, did you want to talk?” You asked after a beat. His blue eyes had been boring into yours, and you couldn’t deny the fluttery feeling that occurred in your stomach.

“Yeah, something like that,” he croaked out, “do you wanna grab a drink or-?”

You rolled your lips in fake consideration, the decision already made when he finished his sentence.

“Sure,” you nodded as well, “I know a calm place not too far from here.”

You nodded your head to the left, signaling he should follow you.

“How was your thing abroad?” You tentatively asked after a minute, trying to ignore all the noise that was giving you slight anxiety already.

His voice was a bit different than normal, just a little more of a grim sound lining it, “uh, heavy shit to be honest.”

That was all he said in that moment and you decided you’d save for it later.

“Well, I visited Yori twice,” you filled the silence. Not that it was awkward, you just wanted to hear his smooth voice in your ears again, focus on the exact tone he was using and how much calmer it made you feel.

“Oh did you now? Knew you’d like the man.”

“We played GO once and I had absolutely no idea how to play, so he won - and rubbed it in my face!” You gestured with your hands, not noticing the fascinated look that was growing on Bucky’s face.

“Oh, we went people watching as well,” you pushed open the door of the little bookstore/cafe combination you often frequented, “and this couple was trying to take a picture next to the fountain, yeah? Well, the guy fell straight in! It was amazing!”

The door closed behind you, the silence in the small shop immediately made you realize how talkative you had been the whole way over.

“Shit, sorry,” you cringed, your first instinct was to walk away, so you disappeared between the shelves filled with tons of books.

“Hey, it’s alright, I like hearing you talk,” he caught up with you, his hand grabbing your elbow to stop you in your tracks. He pulled you a little closer to him,

His firm but gentle grip grounded you, “it’s just, the noise of the city gets to me sometimes. It helps to talk over it.”

“I don’t want to diminish your feelings, but I do understand, y/n,” his gaze connected to yours.

It was quiet all around you, standing closely together between hundreds of books. The sincerity that flashed through his eyes made you hold your breath for a moment, your heart not feeling like a black hole, but more like a nebula. A nebula filled with a thousand stars and even more colours you couldn’t begin to imagine.

“Right,” you whispered after a while, before snapping out of your stupor and taking a step back, away from him and his intoxicating everything.

He cleared his throat and blinked a few times, clearly under the same trance you had been.

You grabbed his hand and pulled him with you, to the back of the bookstore where the cafe was located.

“Ta da,” you gestured to the room, random chairs and thrifted couches mixed in between bookcases filled old classics and luscious plants and strings of lights. There was a small counter with freshly baked goods and non-alcoholic drinks as well as more books spread all around the place.

It was cozy and homey and eclectic and dark: everything you needed when the nightmares woke you up and you couldn’t calm down at your own place. It was open 24/7 and had the best selection of tea you could ever wish for.

“Cozy,” he ran his finger over the backs of the books next to the table you were standing next to, pulling off your bag.

You hummed in response and sat down, dumping your coat over the back of the seat.

“So, what did you want to talk about?” You asked, getting yourself comfy in the big chair, three big pillows propped behind your back.

Bucky sat down, tossing a few of the pillows away because who needs this many pillows? He pulled off his gloves as well, revealing his vibranium hand to you for the first time and nodded slowly, licking his lips.

“It’s good news,” he started, a timid smile on his face, “great news even, if I’m being honest.”

You raised your brow in question, a smile tugging on the ends of your lips.

“I think I’m ready to stop therapy.” The words felt unsure, not set in stone yet.

You leaned over and put your hand on his knee, “Bucky, that’s amazing! I’m really proud of you.”

He rubbed his neck and looked away from your face, trying to mask his happiness.

“Did dr. Raynor clear you then? Or did you have to go back to court again-“

He held up a hand and you stopped talking immediately. After rummaging in his coat, he pulled out a little notebook. The same notebook you had seen him clutching closely when you first went to Izzy’s with him.

He looked through it, looking for a specific page before he stopped and slid the notebook over to you.

It was a full page with names, all but one crossed through. You didn’t recognize the crossed out names. The one that wasn’t crossed out yet made you pull your brows together.

“What’s Yori doing on this list?” You asked as you looked at him, “no, wait, what is this list?”

His finger ghosted over the crossed out names, “these are people who I made amends to, because of you know… the winter soldier thing.”

“Ah.”

“And Yori, he- uh, his son-,” he choked on the words. You grabbed his hand that was pointing to the names with both hands, the metal a bit chilly to the touch.

“Take your time,” you rubbed your thumbs in circles over his hand, trying to ease his nerves a little. It reminded you of your mother, when you’d get anxiety attacks during school or when the stress was just getting to you. It made you focus on the feeling of her soft skin on your hand, rather than the thoughts in your head that felt like a tornado ravaging everything or the way your heartbeat would feel different than usual.

He pulled himself together after a minute, dragging his right hand over his face.

“I uh, I- he killed his son… he-he wasn’t even a target but, but he was a witness, and- and the winter soldier doesn’t leave any witnesses,” he managed to say. He bit on the inside of his cheek, refusing to show any emotions.

“I have tried to tell him, multiple times, but-, but I always choke and back down. And… it’s time that I stop lying.”

His eyes were red and he was quickly blinking to get rid of the tears that were waiting to come out.

“Hi, what can I get you guys?” The waiter appeared out of thin air and you ordered a green tea with citrus for yourself and an americano for Bucky, along with some fresh cookies. You thanked them as they walked off to get your stuff, and you turned back to look at Bucky.

“Thanks,” he croaked once the waiter was out of earshot.

You nodded and let go of his hand, feeling a bit awkward that you’d been holding onto it so long.

“Here,” you closed the notebook and slid it back over to him, “I could come with to Yori? Only if you want to, of course.”

“I-, yeah, I would really like that, actually,” he breathed out and leaned back into the seat, drowning in the dark blue velvety fabric.

The waiter had dropped off your order after a while, putting a plate of cookies on the middle of the table.

“Just…, let me know when you want to go and I’ll be there,” you sincerely offered, then pushing a cookie in your mouth.

His whole face lit up as he watched you, your cheeks hamster-like as you were holding your hand in front of your mouth, trying to decently eat the cookie.

He lifted his cup of coffee to take a sip and then cradled it between his hands, “so, how is your therapy coming along?”

The cookie was still preventing you from speaking normally, so you held out your hand and rocked it slightly.

“So-so,” you added after a minute, “it really has its ups and downs.”

“She’s been pestering me about contacting another survivor, actually,” you admitted, “she says it will help me get to terms … or something along those lines.”

You took a sip of your tea, hiding your face behind your mug and avoiding Bucky’s intense gaze that was set on you.

“Do you- do you want to tell me about them?”

You put the mug back on the table and bit down on your lip.

Hesitation set in as you thought about Nadir. The vision of his right leg badly mangled under the bike flashing through your thoughts. Just thinking about it amplified the guilt you felt deep in your bones.

“Nadir had been with us for 7 weeks already. He-he was our local liaison and he interpreted for us as well,” you started the story, picturing Nadir’s face in front of you.

“He lived in the town we were staying in, so we saw his family a lot too. He had two young children, two boys and his wife always made us local food for when we’d be away for a few days.”

“So, a real family man then,” Bucky commented, a sad smile on his face.

“Yeah, his kids mean everything to him,” you nodded. The boys loved playing football with you and the rest of the team during down time, being much quicker than all the older people and slipping between the defense of your team. Quite literally as well, those boys wormed their way into your hearts and saying goodbye hurt more than you would’ve thought.

“After the incident,” your eyes glossed over as you tried not to choke on the words, “he-, he lost his right leg. So, playing football with his kids is probably out of the question.”

“Did he tell you that?” Bucky broke a cookie in two and slid a part over to you.

You rapidly blinked a few times, trying to get rid of the tears, “no, I don’t know actually. I don’t think he wants to talk to me.”

“What? Why would you say that?” His hand came to rest on your wrist, as you wiped your eyes with the back of your other hand.

“It’s my team’s fault he was in that situation! He wasn’t even supposed to be there, but we asked him to come with because we wanted his pers- personal opinion on something.

“He wasn’t even getting payed! We just- we just asked him if he wanted to come with us because he was such a great person and he just wanted to help!” you grimaced, your chin trembling and your head hanging low.

“Hey, don’t- don’t say that it’s your fault,” he wrapped his fingers tighter around your wrist to get your attention.

“That bomb was there, whether you were there or not. It’s a stupid coincidence. That’s war for you,” he started, putting your hand in both of his, his next words a bit softer than the ones before, “you can’t put words in Nadir’s mouth if you haven’t talked to him.”

He lowered his head, so his gaze could connect to yours, “talk to him. I’m sure blaming you or your team is not on his mind.”

“But, but what if he does?” You sniffled, “and- and I mean, the whole conflict got even worse after that. International aid workers that were caught in the middle? Made it all worse- so much worse.”

“But, sweetheart, I-,” he sighed, his brows pulled together as he watched you spiral into what he could only describe as a deep pit of despair.

“This is not your fault- not at all. You were at the wrong place, at the wrong time.”

When you finally looked up at him, he could see how much of a toll the whole thing actually had taken on you. Red eyes from a combination of exhaustion and crying, as well as the pronounced lines on your faces. Then he noticed how your hand was trembling in his, even when he was holding it so closely in his.

“I-i just feel like this black hole will swallow me so-soon,” you sniffled, trying to keep your eyes open, as tiredness set into your bones, making it difficult to even be.

“I’m sorry, I- I just feel that I don’t deserve the compassion you g-give me,” the words stuttered out.

The therapy session itself had been intense already, but you never expected the conversation with Bucky to take this turn. You never talked about the incident with anyone, except with dr. Russo. Even though you had told Bucky about the incident itself already, you had never revealed how you truly felt about everything and how your feelings were so intense sometimes, you felt they could be the end for you.

“No, please don’t say that,” the exasperated plea left his mouth, “you have been nothing but kind to me, even after everything I’ve told you.”

“And your literal job is helping people, of course you deserve everything you need,” he softly squeezed your hand, his eyes portraying trying to show you just how much you meant to him already.

“You have so much compassion for people, why should you not deserve any yourself?”

You sniffled again and rubbed away the tears under your eyes with one hand.

“I- I don’t know, it’s just hard,” letting out a sad giggle at the sound of your hoarse voice, “I don’t know what to do sometimes.”

“That’s alright, you’re allowed to get lost sometimes,” a toothy smile on his handsome face, “I was lost for a very long time, but look, I think I can confidently say that I’ve made it.”

“You did, you really did Bucky,” you nodded, a small smile coming back to your face again. It felt a bit like the sunshine after an intense rain shower, the moment the first rays of sun came back to warm your face.

“Thanks- and sorry. For spiraling a bit,” you said, putting your other hand on both of his.

“Hey, don’t worry,” grabbing both of your hands in his, “and talk to Nadir. Please.”

The warmth you felt radiating out of this person, made you feel like you were wrapped up in a blanket. Safe and cozy and a place you never wanted to leave again. How a person made you feel this way was not something you ever thought was possible, but the moment proved it existed. The dark hole within your heart was slowly starting to dissipate, swallowing itself whole without dragging you with it into the depths of the universe.

“Thank god this place is kinda dark, I think we both look like wrecks,” you shakily laughed as Bucky rolled his eyes.

Week 11

“Let’s talk about the week you’ve had, anything interesting you want to tell me about?” dr. Russo said, opening her notebook and clicking down on her pen.

“Uhm, yeah, sure,” you sat a bit forward on the edge of the seat, clasping your hands together as you gathered your thoughts.

“I met up with that new friend and I opened up about my situation,” you said, “and yeah. It was nice to open up about it actually.”

“I’m glad you opened up, now how did this friend came to be?” she said as she scanned her notes, “Was it the older man’s friend?”

“Yes. He’s my neighbours friend, but he also goes uh- went to therapy here, so we bumped into each other one time,” you nodded, looking over at dr. Russo who was jotting down some things.

“So, he understands what you’re going through then?” she questioned, “as he is also a client here, I suspect he isn’t one to judge?”

You quickly nodded, “no, yeah. He’s been really supportive it’s crazy.”

“Uh, I told him about Nadir,” you added after a silent moment, “and he pushed me to contact him.”

“Did you?”

You rolled your lips and scrunched your nose, “yeah.”

Dr. Russo stayed quiet, giving you time to mull over the words as she looked at your body language. The fact that you were sitting on the edge of your seat instead of leaned back into the couch showed a lot of improvement to her.

“He was really glad to finally hear from me,” your eyelash fluttering when you tried to keep the emotions in, “his kids-”

“His kids said they missed us, missed me,” you choked out, everything still feeling unreal.

“Did you talk about the roadside bomb?” dr. Russo pulled you out of the story for a moment, before you went off the rails.

Your right hand was gripping your thigh with a lot of pressure, trying to find another outlet without all emotions expressed on your face.

“yeah. He got a prosthetic leg and he’s even able to play football with his kids and they fled the conflict and are living a pretty good life, that’s what he said at least.”

Dr. Russo smiled at you as she shifted her gaze from your eyes to where your hand was turning pale from the pressure, “did you ask about whose fault it was?”

You harshly swallowed as you nodded, “he doesn’t blame me, or our team for that matter.”

“How does that make you feel?”

You let out a shaky laugh, releasing the tight grip on your thigh, “less guilty.”

“Almost relieved in a way, that they don’t blame me, or the team or the mission itself. They still believe we helped the community in a way, even if our being there and the-, the bo-bomb created another conflict.”

“Can you accept now that this is not your fault, not in any way?” dr. Russo asked.

Nadir confirming what Bucky had said did make the incident feel more like just what it was. An accident.

“Not fully,” you admitted, “but it is slowly starting to dawn upon me that there were other factors at play here and that I was just a cog in the machine.”

“You did really well, I’m proud of the progress you’re making,” dr. Russo clicked her pen.

“This friend is a good one, keep him close,” she added, a smile stretching over her face.

She closed her notebook, “now, I want to do an exercise for the rest of our time together.”

Week 15

“You ready?” You whispered as you stood in front of Yori’s door. Bucky looked a bit sick, if you were honest. His face had paled considerably and you honestly weren’t sure what to do if a super-soldier fainted. Could they faint?

“No,” he said after a beat, but he knocked on the door anyway.

If you told him you weren’t stressed, you’d be lying. Yori was a sweet old man, but what Bucky was going to tell him now, you had no idea how he would react. Bucky had been lying to the man for weeks, and not just a little white lie, no — the truth about what happened to his son.

The old man opened the door just a bit to get a look at his visitors, “hey, what are you doing here?”

He immediately opened the door further, revealing the ever candle-lit shrine and you heard Bucky taking a deep breath.

He let you enter first, and you gave Yori a tight lipped smile as you passed him.

The shrine to his son had multiple candles burning, and your gaze was stuck on the picture. You had been in Yori’s apartment before, but you didn’t know yet how his son had been killed. It felt wrong, almost as if you were a bystander in something you weren’t even part of.

“I have to tell you something,” Bucky’s voice was low and gentle, but you knew the words were getting stuck in his throat.

“About your son,” he added and Yori’s face immediately constricted into a frown.

Yori nodded a few times and held out his arm, gesturing that everyone should sit down. Yori probably heard the tone of voice Bucky used and knew whatever he was going to say, wasn’t going to be a simple thing.

You settled on a chair next to Bucky, mostly so you could gauge Yori’s reaction when he finally told him what happened to his son.

Bucky pulled off his gloves for the first time in Yori’s presence, revealing the vibranium hand that had been hidden for so long and took a deep breath in, the lines on his forehead creasing.

“He was murdered,” he simply said, choosing not to beat around the bush as to what faith his son had met all these years ago.

The look on Yori’s face broke your heart. You had come to appreciate the old man and his weird ways when you were out and about. He didn’t deserve this. His son didn’t deserve this. But there were some wicked people in the world who thought brainwashing soldiers into ruthless killing machines was okay. Neither the brainwashed people nor the victims ever deserved this fate.

“What?” He finally choked out.

“By the winter soldier,” Bucky’s voice was starting to lose the little ounce of confidence he had left in him, his throat constricting.

“And that was me.” His voice was shaking as he tried to blink away the tears that were forming in his eyes.

“I didn’t have a choice.”

Bucky looked down at his feet, the sight of Yori’s face to much to bear.

The tension in the room was palpable and you honestly had no idea what was about to happen next. Yori looked confused and sad, mixed with a hint of anger in the way he was staring at Bucky’s form.

“What do you mean, you didn’t have a choice?” were the first words he uttered after processing all the information.

He wasn’t looking at Bucky anymore, his gaze shifted to the picture of his son on the small shrine, the incense leaving a smoke trail around it.

Bucky expected Yori to throw him out of his apartment — he would’ve let him do it too.

He swallowed harshly, “I was experimented on, trying to recreate the su-super soldier serum, uh, then they brainwashed me — repeatedly, and put me on ice when they didn’t need me.”

Bucky’s jaw was set in a hard line as he tried . You on the other hand tried your best not to let a tear slip out as you watched the man next to you talk about the horrible things he endured.

“I’m so sorry,” Bucky finally choked out, his voice raspy and filled with regret as he looked at Yori, broken and alone.

Yori bit on the inside of his cheek before he shot up and looked at you, “I’d like it if you left — both of you.”

You didn’t miss the exasperated look on Bucky’s face as he realized Yori refused to even look at him.

You stood up and put a hand on Bucky’s shoulder, signaling it was time to go. Bucky rubbed his face with his hand and then stood up as well.

Yori had already opened the front door, looking at the floor as you both shuffled towards the exit.

Bucky was first through the door this time, slowing when he passed Yori, but when he realized Yori wouldn’t acknowledge him, he quickly left. He already went to the elevator, not waiting for you as you stood in front of Yori.

“I’m so sorry, Yori,” you whispered as you touched the side of his arm.

A tear slipped down Yori’s face as he finally looked up at you. His eyes were vacant and his lips were turned into a deep frown as he nodded.

“If you ever want to talk — my door is always open.”

You stepped out of the door fully now and Yori didn’t say anything before the door closed, but you knew he’d accept your offer. Even if it was next week, next month or next year.

Bucky was waiting outside the apartment building, a grim look on his face as he watched the traffic go by.

“Just give him some time, Bucky,” you told him. The fact that Bucky owned up to apologizing meant a lot, but that didn’t mean everyone would or could just forgive him that easily.

“All the people he killed, I have to apologize for,” he grit his teeth, an angry scowl on his face.

“But no one — no one ever apologized to me for making me this way.”

“I still see their faces in front of me, you know,” he added when you didn’t respond.

All the emotions that were coursing through his veins now were fueled by anger, injustice and sadness. Sadness that he had to become this person, this person who will never feel satisfied with his life because of all the trauma’s he inflicted on people.

You grabbed his vibranium hand, the hand that would always remind him of the horrors he committed, and laced your fingers through his. The metal felt cold to your warm hands, as if portraying how he was feeling at that moment.

He didn’t even react to the gesture, only glanced your way when you lightly tugged on his hand.

“It’s not my place to apologize,” you tried, “and I don’t think anyone will ever apologize, which I’m sorry for.

“But the fact that you — you,” you pressed a finger against his chest, “wanted to apologize for stuff you never wanted to do, makes you the strongest and bravest person there is.”

You licked your lips, gaze shifting between his eyes as he chewed on his bottom lip, insecurity preventing him from accepting your compliment.

“I just have nothing left in me to give to the world, to anyone — to you,” he shakily breathed out as he squeezed your hand, “I don’t know why-, why you are being this kind to me.”

“I don’t think the world or me want anything from you,” you brought your intwined hands up to your chest, holding it closely to your heart.

“You are enough, Bucky, and I don’t know how I can get you to accept that,” you bent your head down and pressed a soft kiss against the back of his vibranium hand.

“I hope one day you’ll see what an impeccable person you are, someone who cares until it hurts too much and even then pressing on,” you wanted to let go of his hand, but his grip wouldn’t let you go.

“Uh, I-I honestly don’t know what to say,” his brow furrowed and a sad smile present on his face, “this is-, it’s the most honest thing someone has said to me for a while.”

“Thank you,” he added, his red eyes portraying just how much his emotions had shifted during the last 10 minutes.

“So, what do you say we get something to eat, huh? I think we could both use some food,” you changed the topic to a lighter one. The day had been very emotional already and you wanted to give him some time to process everything.

“Uh, I need to make a quick stop somewhere,” he pulled on your hand as he started walking towards the city centre, “then I’ll be free.”

* * *

After visiting Yori, Bucky had asked you to do one final thing. A final thing that would give him a clean slate, as he worded it.

When you ended up at the therapy center, you tried your best to hide the surprise on your face. You had waited outside as he went in. It had taken him longer than you expected, but you noticed the city sounds didn’t bother you as much anymore. Just waiting for Bucky was enough to distract you from the city that was alive and buzzing all around you.

After a while, he came back out, a few ripped off pages clutched between his fingers.

“Thanks- for today. For-for coming with me,” he said as you stood in front of the building you frequented every Wednesday.

“Yeah, I’m here for you, Bucky,” you nodded towards the pages, “what are those?”

He quickly put them away in his pocket, crumpling the neat pages without much care it seemed like, “uh-, just something I wanted to keep.”

You decided not to pry, instead asking him about dr. Raynor, “so, ‘m sure the goodbye was hard?”

He fell into step next to you, an unspoken agreement you’d visit the book store cafe again, seeking refuge from the busy city.

“Uh, well, actually she wasn’t there,” rubbing the scruff on his chin, he looked suspicious and he knew.

“What do you mean she wasn’t there? I thought you’d let her know beforehand you’d drop by?”

“Well, you know, she’s… a busy woman,” he puckered his lips, acting as if he had at least tried to get ahold of her.

“Bucky,” you whined, dragging out the last syllable, “you didn’t even try!”

“I left her a card, sweetheart, should be enough,” he put his arm around your shoulder and squeezed you against him.

“Now, I think it’s time for food, don’t ya think?”

Week 19

“And you’re sure you could bring a plus one?” The words rushed out as you followed Bucky closely on the docks to where his partner- scratch that, Captain America, was sitting.

“Don’t worry about it,” he weaved through the children, pretending to be hit a few times when a kid fake-punched him, “they welcomed me with open arms, so why wouldn’t they do the same for you?”

His sunglasses slid down on his nose as he gave you a pointed look over the rim, “besides, weren’t you the one who needed more friends?”

You shoved him against his shoulder, but wrapped your arm around his elbow after and muttered some sort of obscenity, which he only he laughed at.

“You’re very cute, you know that?”

You hid your face against his bicep as he chuckled again, the smile just never leaving his face today.

“Happiness looks really good on you Bucky,” you smiled up at him, tapping your fingers on his bicep.

“It looks even better on you,” he put down the cake on a table and turned to face you, “I mean, the scowl you had on your face when we met was terrifying!”

“Hey, I was having a bad moment. This scowl can come right back, hmm,” you pointed towards your face, trying to look angry.

“It doesn’t work, sorry doll,” he tapped on the bottom of your chin, lifting your head, “even you trying to look pissed is cute.”

A deep sigh left you, but you did feel yourself growing hot at his endless stream of compliments. After visiting Yori, you and Bucky had started spending even more time together, growing closer and closer by the minute.

“C’mon, Sam’s waiting,” he put his hands on your shoulders and steered you towards where Sam was sitting.

“This is like the first time I’m meeting an Avenger, this is so exciting,” you squealed and he let out a deep groan, pressing his thumbs a little harder on your shoulder blades.

“You’re going to give him an even bigger god-complex than he already has!”

“You’re just saying that because you’re not an Avenger,” you turned your head a bit backwards, checking his reaction.

“Psh, quiet you,” he shushed you as you finally arrived at the table where Sam and co were sitting.

“Ah, there they are!” Sam exclaimed and stood up to give Bucky a hug. They clapped each other on the back and said something to each other.

You were patiently waiting next to them, a little bit stressed at the prospect of meeting Sam.

“And you must be the infamous y/n, Bucky has said a lot about you,” Sam said when he let go of Bucky.

Bucky rolled his eyes, but you couldn’t miss the blush that was creeping up his neck as he looked away.

“Mr. Wilson, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” you held out your hand as you were starstruck by the idea that Sam already knew about you.

“No, no. None of that here,” he pulled you into a tight hug, “and Sam please. Mr. Wilson makes me feel old.”

You let go, a little bit dazed that fucking Captain America hugged you. When Bucky stood next to you again, you gripped his lower arm and looked up at him, eyes big and a coy smile on your face.

“Stop fangirling,” he whispered, trying to not laugh at the expression on your face.

“Never,” you whispered right back, moving your face a bit closer to his before rapidly pulling away.

“Could I have a picture with you, Sam? I’m kind of a big fan.”

“You hear that Buck, your girl wants a picture with me, not you, me!” Sam exclaimed and pulled you under his arm.

Those words gave you a warm feeling, right inside the centre of your chest as you shot Bucky an awkward laugh. How was it even possible to feel this way about someone, even when nothing tangible was going on between the two of you?

“Smile!” Bucky called out, holding up his phone as you and Sam both put on your best smile.

“Thank you so much,” you gushed, still so in awe that you were standing next to a literal superhero.

“Don’t you want a picture with me then?” Bucky asked.

“We already have pictures together, silly,” you said as you took his phone to look at the picture.

“Ooh, these are so good Buck, thanks!” you forwarded the pictures to yourself. These were definitely going onto your fridge.

“But we only have selfies!” He pouted, “‘m sure Sam doesn’t mind snapping a few of us, right?”

Sam held out his hand to grab the phone, “let’s go, the sun is just setting.”

Bucky stretched out his arm around your shoulders as you wrapped on of yours around his waist. He looked down at you, securely squeezed against his side, and the pure happiness that was radiating off of you.

Sam started snapping pictures, just taking as many as he could.

Afterward a few hours, you were sitting next to Bucky at the picnic table eating dinner, “hey, let me look at the pictures, haven’t seen them yet.”

Bucky pulled out his phone again and slid it over to you, leaning a bit closer to you so he could see them too.

“Ooh, this is a cute one,” you softly said, looking at the picture where Bucky was looking at you with a soft smile on his face and you were laughing out loud at a stupid thing Sam said.

“Yeah,” he chuckled, resting his chin on your shoulder as you kept scrolling.

“Jesus, he took like 50 pictures of us.”

“At least we have some decent ones now,” he breathed out, hot air fanning into your face as you felt your insides make twenty flips.

You turned your face a little, noses almost touching as you looked at him out of the corners of your eyes. Whatever was going on between the two of you, it made you feel like you were on top of the world, able to conquer everything, as long as he was by your side.

“Yeah,” you softly smiled, feeling the last remains of the black hole disappear into nothing.

* * *

“Thanks for bringing me to see your friends,” you said as you fell down next to him on the couch that would be your makeshift bed for the night, “or should I say family?”

“They kinda are my family, aren’t they?” He snickered as he threw his arm over your shoulders and pulled you closer.

Tiredness had started to set in into both your bodies after a few hours of mingling, eating and dancing on the docks.

So many people had welcomed you with open arms, making the night so much better than you ever expected. They didn’t ask about anyone’s past, only what the plans for the future were. It felt like a second chance - a second try to feel alive again.

You nuzzled yourself further under his arm and grabbed the hand that was hanging over you to interlace your digits with his.

“Thanks for coming with me, it- it means a lot,” he whispered after pressing a kiss against your head.

“It’s good to see you happy,” you hummed, looking up at him now. He was already looking at you, a soft look in his eyes portraying just how much it did mean to him.

Your noses were almost touching for the second time this day, but now that you were alone in the dark living room it felt a hundred times more intimate and real.

The hand that was holding his over your shoulder, let loose and he whined at the loss of contact. It came up to cup his cheek instead, your thumb rubbing the slight scruff on his face as he shakily breathed in.

He finally nudged his nose against yours, his eyes falling closed as you enjoyed the feeling of the closeness, the warmth of his breath fanning over your face.

“I- can I-“ he trailed off, just a whisper that only you could hear.

You moved slightly forward, immediately answering his question as your lips finally pressed together.

It felt like a breath of fresh air, after being stuck in a stuffy room for way too long. It felt like coming home, his lips soft and warm and pressed against yours in a way you had never been kissed before.

It felt like nothing bad ever happened to you, like you were standing on the edge of a cliff, ready to fall off, knowing he would be at the bottom waiting for you to fall right into his arms, right into him.

When you finally pulled back, both your hands were cradling his face, the moonlight illuminating his perfect face.

He pressed a kiss against your palm, before pulling you closer in his embrace, tugging you into him safely.

“I really, really like you,” you whispered, and you pressed a lingering kiss against the side of his neck inhaling his scent and closing your eyes.

“I really, really like you too,” he whispered right back, tugging a blanket over the both of you, settling down for the night, limbs entangled and heartstrings connecting both of your hearts to each other.

Week 34

“What the hell is this,” you whispered to yourself as you held the piece of clothing in front of you. You were redoing your bedroom, the room hadn’t changed since you moved in four years ago and it was overdue. A new bed frame was supposed to arrive tomorrow and you still had to clean out your room, pulling stuff from under the bed even.

This particular piece of clothing was a dark pair of pants, definitely Bucky’s. There were some papers sticking out of the back pockets, his signature scribblings standing out.

“Bucky?” You called out to your boyfriend in the living room. He was reading one of your books on the couch, patiently waiting until he could help disassemble your old bed frame.

“Can you come? I think this is yours?”

You heard him pad over to the bedroom, the fluffy socks on his feet showing a whole other side to the man he usually presented to the world.

“What’s mine?” his gravely voice reached your ears as he stood over you.

You handed him the notes and he immediately chuckled.

“Have you read them?” he said as he sat down next to where you were sitting on the floor, crossing his long legs and scanning through the pages.

You shook your head, “no, but they’re yours, right?”

He hummed a response as he read the words on the pages, written so many weeks ago, when so much was still different.

“Read it,” he handed the papers back, a lopsided grin on his face as he awaited your reaction.

“What is this about, now?” You murmured, not expecting an answer as you scanned the scrawly penmanship, a few words less readable where the paper was very creased.

The words came straight from his heart, poems written about you and what you had said to him. Small little doodles too, a cookie from when you had gone to the coffee shop, or a small drawing of your face, illuminated by the moon.

You looked up at him as he bit on his lower lip, crows feet next to his eyes as he glowed.

“You- you did all of this? Before we- we were even dating?” You stammered, as you put down the papers on the bed, the content in them too precious to leave on the floor.

He slowly nodded, pressing his lips together in a smile, “I-uh, I started getting these feelings for you, pretty early on actually and… I just didn’t know how to deal with them, so- so this was my way to get them out, to- to make them more tangible.

“And, I want you to know, just how much you mean to me. And how much you caring for me, changed me. For the better.”

He hesitated for a second, his eyes narrowing as he thought about what to say next, “uh, you said this thing, pretty early on - it, it was something about your heart being a black hole?”

You didn’t respond, only tilted your head as you wondered where he was going with this.

“I had a similar issue, but ever since I met you - this heavy feeling, it felt- it felt so much lighter instantly-“

You flung yourself around him, your arms around his neck as Bucky fell backwards onto the soft carpet, you on top of him.

You pressed a lingering kiss to his lips, trying to ignore the salty taste of the tears that were streaming down your face.

“Bucky,” you sniffled, pressing a string of kisses on his cheeks, jaw, forehead and nose, “you are, the most- the most precious person I have ever met.”

He wrapped his arms around your waist as you laid on the ground, the mess all around you the opposite of how you felt and the current situation you were in.

“I love you so much, “you croaked out, the tears lodged in your throat but the adoring gaze told a whole other story.

You nuzzled your face into the crook of his neck as he rubbed his hands over your back, “I love you.”

* * *

The pages from his notebook were the centre of the universe for you. Whenever you had a bad day, you went over to your desk and looked at the wall, where said pages were neatly hung in frames and helped you calm down. You could recite the word by heart by now, knew every curl of his handwriting and where every splotch of ink was.

And whenever you had a bad day, Bucky was right there next to you, arms wide open and the soft look of his eyes only reserved for you.

He was your soulmate and you were his. The black holes that used to be your hearts, were replaced by one big supernova, strings of colours intertwined with one another, endless, beautiful and forever.

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