Bucky Barnes

Independent RP blog of Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes. AU

[flirtsuke]

Role play blogs aren’t just about cliques and it shouldn’t be about who you’ve known the longest either. Well it should be but also- there are a lot of shy cinnamon rolls out there waiting for you. But they don’t know that you can vibe with them right off the bat if they’d only send in a meme or a starter or something!

So reblog if you’re the type of blog that is open to NEW friendships even if you are already connected to old ones. New friendships mean new experiences and more people to talk about your muse’s together. This is a clique free blog despite the people who love sending me in asks and there’s much love for them but I’ve also got love waiting for you if only you’d send that one message. 

[that-cold-soldier]

The city hadn’t changed much—not the way people moved, or the way the cold wind still bit off the Hudson. But Bucky had. At least, he hoped he had.

He stood in line at the coffee cart on 53rd and Lexington, leather gloves tucked into his jacket pocket, hands bare despite the chill. Old habits—feel the temperature, stay alert, never too comfortable. But these days, he liked to pretend he was just another guy waiting for caffeine.

A soft thud and a muffled curse snapped him out of his thoughts. Someone had dropped their bag at his feet, papers spilling across the sidewalk like autumn leaves in a gust.

Bucky bent instinctively, metal fingers brushing against the scattered mess, collecting pages with a quiet efficiency. When he looked up, he didn’t speak right away. He just held out the papers—eyes catching on theirs for a moment too long. Not threatening. Not intense. Just… curious.

Something about the moment felt real. Grounding. Like maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t a ghost walking through a borrowed life.

“Here,” he said finally, voice rough from the morning. “You dropped these.”

[that-cold-soldier]

“It’s no problem. Just glad I got them before the wind did,” Bucky said, giving her a dimpled smile. “And one tea it is…any cream or sugar?”

He ordered a tea and a coffee for himself.

[scarredbookworm]

"One of each," she said, a faint heat on her cheeks. Dimples. Of course he had dimples. Kind, with a cool prosthetic and dimples.

The blush was from the wind. That's what she'd say if anyone asked.

"What about you? How do you take your coffee?"

[that-cold-soldier]

“Black…sugar today is too sweet for me,” he shrugged. “And there’s too many creamers to choose from. I like simple.”

[scarredbookworm]

"You could just add straight milk. Some people do," she said, then tilted her head. "What sugar do you like then, if sugar now is too sweet?"

It was a weird way of saying it, which caught her off guard. Almost like he'd come from a time before refined sugar.

[that-cold-soldier]

“Honestly growing up we used maple syrup to sweeten. Raw sugar was a treat,” he shrugged. “I still use syrup for sweetening every now and then. Or honey.”

[scarredbookworm]

"I should try maple syrup in tea. That sounds lovely," she mused. "Like it would add some refreshing flavor. I do like honey when it's available."

He must have grown up somewhere rural. Maybe up north, where maple syrup was more plentiful?

[that-cold-soldier]

He offered her a smile. “Give it a try then. You’ll be surprised at how delightful it is.”

He accepted the tea and coffee, handing her the tea.

“Can I be forward and ask if you’d like to get dinner some time? Nothing too crazy. Maybe a bistro or pub somewhere.”

[scarredbookworm]

Momma's Helper

@muses-of-variance

"I got it momma," Thomas told his mother, running ahead of her to get the car door open. He was only six but insistent on helping her whenever he could. He saw the way she struggled trying to complete all the chores.

And to Kate's dismay he'd seen her break down over her inability to keep the farm going the way she'd used to.

Neighbors had helped when she'd been pregnant and her husband had died unexpectedly, but now it was just her and Thomas and the Help Wanted sign.

Kate lifted the bag of feed into the truck.

"Okay. Let's go feed our ladies," she told him, referring to their chickens.

[that-cold-soldier]

“Don’t worry about it. This is my home too now,” Bucky told her. “And I’m not paying rent or anything. Consider it an investment.”

[scarredbookworm]

"If you're investing in it then you should probably add a bedroom for yourself," she told him. "Unless you really like the tiny house and the solitude."

But it warmed her heart to know he considered the farm his home now. Kate would never, ever admit it, but she really liked James. More than she should. And until this moment she'd refused to acknowledge that fact.

[that-cold-soldier]

“Maybe I will,” he mused. “Probably be better to be in the main house. I hated how long it took me to get to you guys when the fire started.”

[scarredbookworm]

"It can't have taken you that long. It hadn't gotten out of control until after we were out. And you got us out, that's the important thing. Thomas and I might not have even woken up since the smoke alarms didn't go off."

She frowned slightly. "Maybe we should put more smoke alarms in the rebuild."

[that-cold-soldier]

“It wouldn’t hurt to do that,” he said. “And maybe the alarms were ready to be updated and that’s why they didn’t go off.”

His eyes swept over the burned remains, already mentally making plans to rebuild the home.

[mission-log-hunt]

I really need to disappear into RP tonight. Anyone want to RP?

[scarredbookworm]

Momma's Helper

@muses-of-variance

"I got it momma," Thomas told his mother, running ahead of her to get the car door open. He was only six but insistent on helping her whenever he could. He saw the way she struggled trying to complete all the chores.

And to Kate's dismay he'd seen her break down over her inability to keep the farm going the way she'd used to.

Neighbors had helped when she'd been pregnant and her husband had died unexpectedly, but now it was just her and Thomas and the Help Wanted sign.

Kate lifted the bag of feed into the truck.

"Okay. Let's go feed our ladies," she told him, referring to their chickens.

[that-cold-soldier]

“Don’t worry about it. This is my home too now,” Bucky told her. “And I’m not paying rent or anything. Consider it an investment.”

[scarredbookworm]

"If you're investing in it then you should probably add a bedroom for yourself," she told him. "Unless you really like the tiny house and the solitude."

But it warmed her heart to know he considered the farm his home now. Kate would never, ever admit it, but she really liked James. More than she should. And until this moment she'd refused to acknowledge that fact.

[that-cold-soldier]

“Maybe I will,” he mused. “Probably be better to be in the main house. I hated how long it took me to get to you guys when the fire started.”

[that-cold-soldier]

The city hadn’t changed much—not the way people moved, or the way the cold wind still bit off the Hudson. But Bucky had. At least, he hoped he had.

He stood in line at the coffee cart on 53rd and Lexington, leather gloves tucked into his jacket pocket, hands bare despite the chill. Old habits—feel the temperature, stay alert, never too comfortable. But these days, he liked to pretend he was just another guy waiting for caffeine.

A soft thud and a muffled curse snapped him out of his thoughts. Someone had dropped their bag at his feet, papers spilling across the sidewalk like autumn leaves in a gust.

Bucky bent instinctively, metal fingers brushing against the scattered mess, collecting pages with a quiet efficiency. When he looked up, he didn’t speak right away. He just held out the papers—eyes catching on theirs for a moment too long. Not threatening. Not intense. Just… curious.

Something about the moment felt real. Grounding. Like maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t a ghost walking through a borrowed life.

“Here,” he said finally, voice rough from the morning. “You dropped these.”

[that-cold-soldier]

“It’s no problem. Just glad I got them before the wind did,” Bucky said, giving her a dimpled smile. “And one tea it is…any cream or sugar?”

He ordered a tea and a coffee for himself.

[scarredbookworm]

"One of each," she said, a faint heat on her cheeks. Dimples. Of course he had dimples. Kind, with a cool prosthetic and dimples.

The blush was from the wind. That's what she'd say if anyone asked.

"What about you? How do you take your coffee?"

[that-cold-soldier]

“Black…sugar today is too sweet for me,” he shrugged. “And there’s too many creamers to choose from. I like simple.”

[scarredbookworm]

"You could just add straight milk. Some people do," she said, then tilted her head. "What sugar do you like then, if sugar now is too sweet?"

It was a weird way of saying it, which caught her off guard. Almost like he'd come from a time before refined sugar.

[that-cold-soldier]

“Honestly growing up we used maple syrup to sweeten. Raw sugar was a treat,” he shrugged. “I still use syrup for sweetening every now and then. Or honey.”

[that-cold-soldier]

The city hadn’t changed much—not the way people moved, or the way the cold wind still bit off the Hudson. But Bucky had. At least, he hoped he had.

He stood in line at the coffee cart on 53rd and Lexington, leather gloves tucked into his jacket pocket, hands bare despite the chill. Old habits—feel the temperature, stay alert, never too comfortable. But these days, he liked to pretend he was just another guy waiting for caffeine.

A soft thud and a muffled curse snapped him out of his thoughts. Someone had dropped their bag at his feet, papers spilling across the sidewalk like autumn leaves in a gust.

Bucky bent instinctively, metal fingers brushing against the scattered mess, collecting pages with a quiet efficiency. When he looked up, he didn’t speak right away. He just held out the papers—eyes catching on theirs for a moment too long. Not threatening. Not intense. Just… curious.

Something about the moment felt real. Grounding. Like maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t a ghost walking through a borrowed life.

“Here,” he said finally, voice rough from the morning. “You dropped these.”

[that-cold-soldier]

“It’s no problem. Just glad I got them before the wind did,” Bucky said, giving her a dimpled smile. “And one tea it is…any cream or sugar?”

He ordered a tea and a coffee for himself.

[scarredbookworm]

"One of each," she said, a faint heat on her cheeks. Dimples. Of course he had dimples. Kind, with a cool prosthetic and dimples.

The blush was from the wind. That's what she'd say if anyone asked.

"What about you? How do you take your coffee?"

[that-cold-soldier]

“Black…sugar today is too sweet for me,” he shrugged. “And there’s too many creamers to choose from. I like simple.”

[scarredbookworm]

Momma's Helper

@muses-of-variance

"I got it momma," Thomas told his mother, running ahead of her to get the car door open. He was only six but insistent on helping her whenever he could. He saw the way she struggled trying to complete all the chores.

And to Kate's dismay he'd seen her break down over her inability to keep the farm going the way she'd used to.

Neighbors had helped when she'd been pregnant and her husband had died unexpectedly, but now it was just her and Thomas and the Help Wanted sign.

Kate lifted the bag of feed into the truck.

"Okay. Let's go feed our ladies," she told him, referring to their chickens.

[that-cold-soldier]

“Don’t worry about it. This is my home too now,” Bucky told her. “And I’m not paying rent or anything. Consider it an investment.”

[that-cold-soldier]

The city hadn’t changed much—not the way people moved, or the way the cold wind still bit off the Hudson. But Bucky had. At least, he hoped he had.

He stood in line at the coffee cart on 53rd and Lexington, leather gloves tucked into his jacket pocket, hands bare despite the chill. Old habits—feel the temperature, stay alert, never too comfortable. But these days, he liked to pretend he was just another guy waiting for caffeine.

A soft thud and a muffled curse snapped him out of his thoughts. Someone had dropped their bag at his feet, papers spilling across the sidewalk like autumn leaves in a gust.

Bucky bent instinctively, metal fingers brushing against the scattered mess, collecting pages with a quiet efficiency. When he looked up, he didn’t speak right away. He just held out the papers—eyes catching on theirs for a moment too long. Not threatening. Not intense. Just… curious.

Something about the moment felt real. Grounding. Like maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t a ghost walking through a borrowed life.

“Here,” he said finally, voice rough from the morning. “You dropped these.”

[that-cold-soldier]

“It’s no problem. Just glad I got them before the wind did,” Bucky said, giving her a dimpled smile. “And one tea it is…any cream or sugar?”

He ordered a tea and a coffee for himself.

[that-cold-soldier]

The city hadn’t changed much—not the way people moved, or the way the cold wind still bit off the Hudson. But Bucky had. At least, he hoped he had.

He stood in line at the coffee cart on 53rd and Lexington, leather gloves tucked into his jacket pocket, hands bare despite the chill. Old habits—feel the temperature, stay alert, never too comfortable. But these days, he liked to pretend he was just another guy waiting for caffeine.

A soft thud and a muffled curse snapped him out of his thoughts. Someone had dropped their bag at his feet, papers spilling across the sidewalk like autumn leaves in a gust.

Bucky bent instinctively, metal fingers brushing against the scattered mess, collecting pages with a quiet efficiency. When he looked up, he didn’t speak right away. He just held out the papers—eyes catching on theirs for a moment too long. Not threatening. Not intense. Just… curious.

Something about the moment felt real. Grounding. Like maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t a ghost walking through a borrowed life.

“Here,” he said finally, voice rough from the morning. “You dropped these.”

[scarredbookworm]

Kate was headed for the library, her bag heavy at her side. It contained books, papers, and her laptop--all necessary for her ongoing research. She'd seen a coffee cart and decided hot tea was the perfect thing, and then she'd tripped on the uneven sidewalk.

Her bag had dropped, the papers spilling across the concrete, and she prayed the laptop hadn't taken too much damage.

Luckily she hadn't fallen herself, but she knew her cheeks were pink--both with the cold and embarrassment--as her eyes met those of the gentleman who'd gathered her papers before they could blow away.

"Thank you," she said, taking them from his metal hand and not even questioning it. Plenty of people had prosthetics, and a metal one, while certainly not typical, wasn't something to stare at, even if it worked just like a regular hand would. Most prosthetics didn't do that, but perhaps it was Stark technology.

She tucked the papers back into her bag and made a mental note to buy a folder in order to keep them together better in case this happened again. Then she joined the back of the line.

[that-cold-soldier]

Bucky nodded at her thanks and stepped behind her into the line himself. He hesitated, unsure if he should take this moment as serendipity. The old Bucky would have.

Maybe it’s time for him to be the old Bucky then?

“Can I pay for your drink?” He offered, hoping it wouldn’t come across too strong.

[scarredbookworm]

She had felt him step into line behind her but hadn't expected what had come out of his mouth next. Turning slightly, just in case he hadn't been speaking to her, she found that he was, in fact, asking her. His blue eyes were on her, not anyone else.

"Yes?" Kate answered, the response coming more as a nervous question than a firm answer. She cleared her throat. "Yes," she repeated, "thank you."

She might as well be bold, if he was going to buy her tea.

"I'm Kate," she said, offering her hand.

[that-cold-soldier]

Bucky nearly hesitated before he took her offered hand and gave it a gentle shake. “James. It’s nice to meet you.”

He wasn’t sure if she knew who he was, and if not? He wouldn’t mind being anonymous for a bit.

“Coffee or tea?” He wondered as they moved up a little in line.

[scarredbookworm]

Momma's Helper

@muses-of-variance

"I got it momma," Thomas told his mother, running ahead of her to get the car door open. He was only six but insistent on helping her whenever he could. He saw the way she struggled trying to complete all the chores.

And to Kate's dismay he'd seen her break down over her inability to keep the farm going the way she'd used to.

Neighbors had helped when she'd been pregnant and her husband had died unexpectedly, but now it was just her and Thomas and the Help Wanted sign.

Kate lifted the bag of feed into the truck.

"Okay. Let's go feed our ladies," she told him, referring to their chickens.

[that-cold-soldier]

Bucky was awake although he was still laying down. He heard movement and glanced down the hall, seeing Kate navigating in the dark. He didn’t want to startle her so he didn’t let her know he was awake.

He closed his eyes and juts relaxed, and meditated some. It still helped from time to time.

[scarredbookworm]

There was just enough light to see, though she still managed to run into the door frame. She cursed under her breath and closed the door behind her, making quick use of the bathroom.

Then she did her best to slip by James, not wanting to wake him.

It was unlikely there was anything salvageable in the house, but she had to look.

[that-cold-soldier]

“If you’re going to check the house, let me go with you,” James called out. “Just for safety and all that,”

He sat up, the blanket pooling around his lap.

[scarredbookworm]

Kate jumped, turning to look at him. "James! I thought you were asleep. I just wanted to see if I could find some clothes... anything that wasn't burned. Can't exactly do chores in my nightgown."

[that-cold-soldier]

“No worries. I’m a very early riser. Nightmares and all that,” he shrugged. “So I was awake. Just didn’t want to disturb you.”

[scarredbookworm]

"I wasn't able to sleep very well myself," Kate admitted. "But if you're coming we should leave Thomas a note. I don't want him worried."

[that-cold-soldier]

Bucky nodded. “I think I have some paper here somewhere…”

He found a paper and pen, letting Kate write the note before he pulled a shirt on and followed her outside.

[scarredbookworm]

Kate walked carefully across the yard, wanting to make sure she didn't injure herself by stepping on something sharp in her bare feet.

In the light of day she could see that the frame of the house might be okay, but the interior was gone.

[that-cold-soldier]

Bucky stepped after her, grimacing at the state of the house.

“At least the foundation and frame are in good shape. With time I can fix it up for you,” he offered.

[scarredbookworm]

"Frame might have some water damage," Kate mused, her eyes moving over everything. "I'm not sure there's anything I can save, but it's worth a look."

Gingerly, she stepped over the threshold, carefully placing her feet. There was still some heat remaining, despite the chill of the morning.

She did her best not to let despair wash over her. She and Thomas were alive, thanks to Bucky, and he was strong and willing to help rebuild. They just needed to find the money to do it.

"I wonder what caused it," she mumbled, still stepping carefully.

[that-cold-soldier]

“Could have been anything,” Bucky shrugged. “Maybe faulty electrical. I’m sure insurance will investigate, then we can rebuild. And don’t worry about cost. Consider it a gift.”

[scarredbookworm]

Momma's Helper

@muses-of-variance

"I got it momma," Thomas told his mother, running ahead of her to get the car door open. He was only six but insistent on helping her whenever he could. He saw the way she struggled trying to complete all the chores.

And to Kate's dismay he'd seen her break down over her inability to keep the farm going the way she'd used to.

Neighbors had helped when she'd been pregnant and her husband had died unexpectedly, but now it was just her and Thomas and the Help Wanted sign.

Kate lifted the bag of feed into the truck.

"Okay. Let's go feed our ladies," she told him, referring to their chickens.

[that-cold-soldier]

Bucky was awake although he was still laying down. He heard movement and glanced down the hall, seeing Kate navigating in the dark. He didn’t want to startle her so he didn’t let her know he was awake.

He closed his eyes and juts relaxed, and meditated some. It still helped from time to time.

[scarredbookworm]

There was just enough light to see, though she still managed to run into the door frame. She cursed under her breath and closed the door behind her, making quick use of the bathroom.

Then she did her best to slip by James, not wanting to wake him.

It was unlikely there was anything salvageable in the house, but she had to look.

[that-cold-soldier]

“If you’re going to check the house, let me go with you,” James called out. “Just for safety and all that,”

He sat up, the blanket pooling around his lap.

[scarredbookworm]

Kate jumped, turning to look at him. "James! I thought you were asleep. I just wanted to see if I could find some clothes... anything that wasn't burned. Can't exactly do chores in my nightgown."

[that-cold-soldier]

“No worries. I’m a very early riser. Nightmares and all that,” he shrugged. “So I was awake. Just didn’t want to disturb you.”

[scarredbookworm]

"I wasn't able to sleep very well myself," Kate admitted. "But if you're coming we should leave Thomas a note. I don't want him worried."

[that-cold-soldier]

Bucky nodded. “I think I have some paper here somewhere…”

He found a paper and pen, letting Kate write the note before he pulled a shirt on and followed her outside.

[scarredbookworm]

Kate walked carefully across the yard, wanting to make sure she didn't injure herself by stepping on something sharp in her bare feet.

In the light of day she could see that the frame of the house might be okay, but the interior was gone.

[that-cold-soldier]

Bucky stepped after her, grimacing at the state of the house.

“At least the foundation and frame are in good shape. With time I can fix it up for you,” he offered.

[that-cold-soldier]

The city hadn’t changed much—not the way people moved, or the way the cold wind still bit off the Hudson. But Bucky had. At least, he hoped he had.

He stood in line at the coffee cart on 53rd and Lexington, leather gloves tucked into his jacket pocket, hands bare despite the chill. Old habits—feel the temperature, stay alert, never too comfortable. But these days, he liked to pretend he was just another guy waiting for caffeine.

A soft thud and a muffled curse snapped him out of his thoughts. Someone had dropped their bag at his feet, papers spilling across the sidewalk like autumn leaves in a gust.

Bucky bent instinctively, metal fingers brushing against the scattered mess, collecting pages with a quiet efficiency. When he looked up, he didn’t speak right away. He just held out the papers—eyes catching on theirs for a moment too long. Not threatening. Not intense. Just… curious.

Something about the moment felt real. Grounding. Like maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t a ghost walking through a borrowed life.

“Here,” he said finally, voice rough from the morning. “You dropped these.”

[scarredbookworm]

Kate was headed for the library, her bag heavy at her side. It contained books, papers, and her laptop--all necessary for her ongoing research. She'd seen a coffee cart and decided hot tea was the perfect thing, and then she'd tripped on the uneven sidewalk.

Her bag had dropped, the papers spilling across the concrete, and she prayed the laptop hadn't taken too much damage.

Luckily she hadn't fallen herself, but she knew her cheeks were pink--both with the cold and embarrassment--as her eyes met those of the gentleman who'd gathered her papers before they could blow away.

"Thank you," she said, taking them from his metal hand and not even questioning it. Plenty of people had prosthetics, and a metal one, while certainly not typical, wasn't something to stare at, even if it worked just like a regular hand would. Most prosthetics didn't do that, but perhaps it was Stark technology.

She tucked the papers back into her bag and made a mental note to buy a folder in order to keep them together better in case this happened again. Then she joined the back of the line.

[that-cold-soldier]

Bucky nodded at her thanks and stepped behind her into the line himself. He hesitated, unsure if he should take this moment as serendipity. The old Bucky would have.

Maybe it’s time for him to be the old Bucky then?

“Can I pay for your drink?” He offered, hoping it wouldn’t come across too strong.

[that-cold-soldier]

The city hadn’t changed much—not the way people moved, or the way the cold wind still bit off the Hudson. But Bucky had. At least, he hoped he had.

He stood in line at the coffee cart on 53rd and Lexington, leather gloves tucked into his jacket pocket, hands bare despite the chill. Old habits—feel the temperature, stay alert, never too comfortable. But these days, he liked to pretend he was just another guy waiting for caffeine.

A soft thud and a muffled curse snapped him out of his thoughts. Someone had dropped their bag at his feet, papers spilling across the sidewalk like autumn leaves in a gust.

Bucky bent instinctively, metal fingers brushing against the scattered mess, collecting pages with a quiet efficiency. When he looked up, he didn’t speak right away. He just held out the papers—eyes catching on theirs for a moment too long. Not threatening. Not intense. Just… curious.

Something about the moment felt real. Grounding. Like maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t a ghost walking through a borrowed life.

“Here,” he said finally, voice rough from the morning. “You dropped these.”

[scarredbookworm]

Momma's Helper

@muses-of-variance

"I got it momma," Thomas told his mother, running ahead of her to get the car door open. He was only six but insistent on helping her whenever he could. He saw the way she struggled trying to complete all the chores.

And to Kate's dismay he'd seen her break down over her inability to keep the farm going the way she'd used to.

Neighbors had helped when she'd been pregnant and her husband had died unexpectedly, but now it was just her and Thomas and the Help Wanted sign.

Kate lifted the bag of feed into the truck.

"Okay. Let's go feed our ladies," she told him, referring to their chickens.

[that-cold-soldier]

Bucky was awake although he was still laying down. He heard movement and glanced down the hall, seeing Kate navigating in the dark. He didn’t want to startle her so he didn’t let her know he was awake.

He closed his eyes and juts relaxed, and meditated some. It still helped from time to time.

[scarredbookworm]

There was just enough light to see, though she still managed to run into the door frame. She cursed under her breath and closed the door behind her, making quick use of the bathroom.

Then she did her best to slip by James, not wanting to wake him.

It was unlikely there was anything salvageable in the house, but she had to look.

[that-cold-soldier]

“If you’re going to check the house, let me go with you,” James called out. “Just for safety and all that,”

He sat up, the blanket pooling around his lap.

[scarredbookworm]

Kate jumped, turning to look at him. "James! I thought you were asleep. I just wanted to see if I could find some clothes... anything that wasn't burned. Can't exactly do chores in my nightgown."

[that-cold-soldier]

“No worries. I’m a very early riser. Nightmares and all that,” he shrugged. “So I was awake. Just didn’t want to disturb you.”

[scarredbookworm]

"I wasn't able to sleep very well myself," Kate admitted. "But if you're coming we should leave Thomas a note. I don't want him worried."

[that-cold-soldier]

Bucky nodded. “I think I have some paper here somewhere…”

He found a paper and pen, letting Kate write the note before he pulled a shirt on and followed her outside.

[that-cold-soldier]

Mandated.

Court mandated therapy apparently meant group therapy. And Bucky originally figured he’d take it if only to avoid talking. But then they kept pressuring him. And others kept telling him that he wouldn’t get better or anything if he didn’t tell the truth and share his experiences.

Which brings him to today. They were in a circle and other members were looking at him strangely. Of course, a normal person would find it strange when he said he’s in therapy because he’s been an unwilling assassin for years.

“My name is James and I’ve been credited as committing over two dozen murders as an unwilling assassin who has endured many years of torture to keep me compliant.”

Then another member chuckled nervously, muttering a yeah right and the general consensus turns to him lying to avoid sharing.

Fucking typical.

@scarredbookworm

[that-cold-soldier]

“If you push my buttons and hers, you should be scared of me doing something about it when you least expect it,” James said quietly. “She’s innocent and doesn’t need your eyes or mouth.”

He gave him a dark look, his eyes serious. The leader chuckled nervously.

“Now no threats, okay? Keep it civil.”

“I will if he will. We don’t come here to be attacked. Be a proper leader,” Bucky snapped.

[scarredbookworm]

Kate wasn't one to complain, but maybe she should submit something anonymous to the people who were in charge of this group. It certainly wasn't very healing for her, and not for James, either.

"Richard, he's right. This is a group for healing, and your comments are not constructive," the leader said, likely only spurred into action by James's words.

Richard snorted. "Maybe if they'd open up about their real trauma they'd get constructive."

[that-cold-soldier]

Bucky didn’t bother trying to defend himself. He was here because he was court ordered to be. He didn’t need this. He’d figure things out on his own.

“Trauma is what we say it is, and it’s our own decision whether we share it or not. Me, I don’t care. I’ve been 100% honest and I have the physical scars to show for it. But sometimes scars aren’t physical. And those are harder to share,” James said wisely.

[scarredbookworm]

Kate didn't say anything. She certainly had physical scars of her own. She just was too frightened to speak up about what had happened to her.

Nobody would protect her if he found her, and she didn't trust any of these people not to go running to Robert in the hopes of getting money.

Except James.

Richard rolled his eyes, clearly still not believing that Bucky had been an assassin.

"Let's move on. Shannon, do you have any wins you'd like to share?"

[that-cold-soldier]

James relaxed some as the meeting moved on. When it ended, he followed everyone out but watched which direction Kate walked in. He also noticed Richard heading her way, so he picked up his own pace and fell into step beside her.

“May I walk you to your car or whatever?” He asked quietly. “Richard looks like he’s heading this way.”

[that-cold-soldier]

Mandated.

Court mandated therapy apparently meant group therapy. And Bucky originally figured he’d take it if only to avoid talking. But then they kept pressuring him. And others kept telling him that he wouldn’t get better or anything if he didn’t tell the truth and share his experiences.

Which brings him to today. They were in a circle and other members were looking at him strangely. Of course, a normal person would find it strange when he said he’s in therapy because he’s been an unwilling assassin for years.

“My name is James and I’ve been credited as committing over two dozen murders as an unwilling assassin who has endured many years of torture to keep me compliant.”

Then another member chuckled nervously, muttering a yeah right and the general consensus turns to him lying to avoid sharing.

Fucking typical.

@scarredbookworm

[that-cold-soldier]

“If you push my buttons and hers, you should be scared of me doing something about it when you least expect it,” James said quietly. “She’s innocent and doesn’t need your eyes or mouth.”

He gave him a dark look, his eyes serious. The leader chuckled nervously.

“Now no threats, okay? Keep it civil.”

“I will if he will. We don’t come here to be attacked. Be a proper leader,” Bucky snapped.

[scarredbookworm]

Kate wasn't one to complain, but maybe she should submit something anonymous to the people who were in charge of this group. It certainly wasn't very healing for her, and not for James, either.

"Richard, he's right. This is a group for healing, and your comments are not constructive," the leader said, likely only spurred into action by James's words.

Richard snorted. "Maybe if they'd open up about their real trauma they'd get constructive."

[that-cold-soldier]

Bucky didn’t bother trying to defend himself. He was here because he was court ordered to be. He didn’t need this. He’d figure things out on his own.

“Trauma is what we say it is, and it’s our own decision whether we share it or not. Me, I don’t care. I’ve been 100% honest and I have the physical scars to show for it. But sometimes scars aren’t physical. And those are harder to share,” James said wisely.