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thischubbydumpling · 5 hours ago

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Loose Ends

Summary : Your husband, Bucky Barnes, finally meets your multiversal best friend, Wade Wilson.

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x multiverse traveller!reader (she/her)

Warnings/tags : Fluff. Mentions of Bi!reader. Sexual references. Canon-typical Deadpool banter. Best friend!Wade (let me know if I missed anything!)

Word count : 4.6k

Note : I loved writing Wade dialogues. @marvel I have a whole document of Deadpool oneliners after writing this so hmu lol. MCU timeline is referred to as 616. This has been renamed from the January Schedule Post. The original title was “missing pieces” but I think this feels more right! Enjoy!

The multiverse was infinite, chaotic, and unpredictable, and for most of your life, it was home. You weren’t born in 616—but your home universe had been destroyed when you were very young. Your life had been a constant or travelling universes and timelines since the day you discovered your ability to hop between them.

At first, it was an accident—a desperate, unexplainable reaction during a moment of danger. You were barely old enough to understand what had happened when you ripped yourself from your original reality and landed in a completely different one.

The sensation was terrifying: your body felt like it had been pulled apart at the seams, stitched back together in the wrong places, and then smoothed out with sandpaper.

For years, you became a nomad, leaping from universe to universe, trying to survive in places that didn’t always make sense. You learned to fight. You learned to blend in. You became friends with mutants, gods, and space-faring explorers. You fought alongside rebels, helped topple tyrants, and saved a few realities in the process.

And that’s where Wade Willson came in.

His universe, Earth-10005, was a jumping point to many other universes, so you were there often.

One day… you crossed paths with him.

Somehow, the two of you ended up handcuffed together, dodging explosions, assassins, and angry mutant job bosses for days on end. Wade was loud, obnoxious, and a little too comfortable talking about bodily fluids, but he also made you laugh—something you hadn’t done in a long time. By the time you both made it out alive, Wade declared himself your “multiversal BFF,” and you didn’t have the heart to tell him no.

For years, you stuck together. As you bounced between realities, you would always visit Wade and Blind Al every time you had a day off. Wade was the one constant in your ever-changing life, and despite his endless stream of inappropriate jokes, you trusted him with your life.

But dimension-hopping wasn’t just exhausting—it was dangerous. The toll it took on your body and mind grew worse with every leap. At first, it was just migraines and nausea. Then came the memory lapses, the hallucinations, the moments where you weren’t sure which universe you were in. Every jump felt like tearing yourself apart and stitching yourself back together with thread that was just a little thinner than before.

You started to wonder if you’d ever be able to stop.

Then you landed on Earth-616.

You’d met heroes before—so many that it felt like you couldn’t throw a rock without hitting one—but there was something different about this world.

Something different about him.

Meeting Bucky Barnes wasn’t love at first sight.

You had been tracking some idiot with access to stolen Stark tech who had decided to play warlord, and just accidentally ran into Captain America and The Winter Soldier.

Bucky had taken one look at you, muttered something about “another goddamn wildcard,” and kept his distance.

You didn’t blame him. Trust didn’t come easily to someone like Bucky, and you weren’t exactly an open book yourself. But somewhere between dodging explosions and dismantling killer drones, the two of you found common ground.

It started small—quiet conversations during downtime, a shared drink after a mission. He didn’t ask too many questions about your past, and you didn’t pry into his. But there was something about Bucky that made you want to stay. For once, you weren’t itching to leap to the next universe.

You didn’t realize how much he meant to you until you stopped hopping altogether.

The decision wasn’t easy. Giving up universe-hopping felt like giving up a piece of yourself. But every time you looked at Bucky, every time you thought about the life you could have here, it felt worth it.

Meeting Bucky Barnes was the final nail in your coffin when you made the decision to stay. He was steady in all the ways you never had been, and you adored him for it. You fell in love fast and hard, and for the first time in your chaotic life, you settled down. Now you were semi-retired—a "break-glass-in-case-of-emergency" kind of hero, and you preferred it that way. You even took a protege in America Chavez— always very careful to tell her to avoid hopping unless absolutely necessary— after all, your side effects probably only happened because you were overusing your abilities— jumping realities every other day.

But there were loose ends and missing pieces, one in particular: Wade Wilson.

You never said goodbye. You couldn’t. Telling him, the merc who had grown to be a brother to you, that you could not see him again would break your heart, besides, you weren’t sure your mind would survive it. You left him behind without a word. You figured he’d understand, or at least get distracted by something shiny before he could hold a grudge.

Turns out, you were wrong.

—

One night, doorbell rang.

You and Bucky exchanged a glance. It was late—too late for visitors, and just the right time for enemies. And you and Bucky had made a lot of enemies.

You reached for the knife tucked into the block on the counter, while Bucky’s hand brushed against the pistol he kept stashed in a kitchen drawer.

When you opened the door, you didn’t know whether to laugh, cry, or slam it shut.

So you slammed it shut. Hard.

“Who is it?” Bucky asked from behind you.

You turned to your husband, trying to keep your expression neutral despite the absurdity standing just outside your front door. “Step back for a second,” you said, raising a hand to calm him. “Let me handle this first.”

Bucky hesitated, his eyes flicking to the door and then back to you. Slowly, he lowered the gun. “You sure?” he asked.

“I’m sure,” you replied. And because he trusted you—completely and without question—he nodded, stepping out of the way.

Taking a steadying breath, you opened the door again. And there he was.

Wade Wilson. Deadpool. The Merc with a Mouth. He was decked out in his full red-and-black suit, the unmistakable adamantium twin katanas crossed over his back, and a frankly excessive number of guns strapped to his thighs. A duffel bag slung over one shoulder looked suspiciously heavy, probably filled with even more weapons—or snacks. With Wade, it could go either way. Or both.

“You—you—you LEFT! I’ve been looking for you for five fucking years!” Wade’s voice cracked with a mix of anger and relief as he stood in front of you, his hands gesturing wildly. “You didn’t call! You didn’t text! I was worried sick! And now—”

Before you could react, he pulled you into a crushing bear hug, squeezing like he was afraid you’d disappear again. His red suit smelled faintly of gunpowder, sweat, and something suspiciously like old tacos.

“Wade—” you tried, your voice muffled against his chest.

“No, no, don’t ‘Wade’ me!” he cut you off, releasing you just as suddenly as he’d grabbed you and beginning to pace across the porch. “Do you know how long I looked for you? I had to bribe a Watcher, for fuck’s sake— with four chimichangas and a rare Pokémon card just to get a lead. FOUR! And I didn’t even get to eat one of them!”

He stopped and whirled around to face you, his hands on his hips like an exasperated parent.

“Wow,” you deadpanned, crossing your arms and leaning casually against the doorframe. “What a sacrifice.”

Wade’s head snapped toward you, and through the expressive eyes of his mask, you could tell he was glaring. He jabbed a finger in your direction. “Don’t you sass me, young lady.”

“‘Young lady?’” you repeated, raising an eyebrow and suppressing a smirk. “What are you, my dad?”

“More like your cooler, better-looking big brother,” Wade shot back, straightening up and puffing out his chest. “Who you abandoned, by the way.”

“I didn’t abandon you,” you said, trying to keep your cool despite the guilt that started to creep in. “I just… retired. And forgot to tell you.”

He groaned, throwing his arms in the air. “Do you know how many terrible jokes I’ve had to tell to Peter because you weren’t around to laugh at them?”

You bit back a laugh. “Do you know how many terrible jokes I avoided because I wasn’t around to hear them?”

Wade gasped so dramatically you half-expected him to swoon. His hand flew to his chest as though you’d stabbed him with one of his own katanas. “Wow. Wow. That was low, even for—oh my god, is that a wedding ring?”

His voice hit a pitch that could shatter glass, and you instinctively hid your hand behind your back, like a kid caught sneaking your mouth full of cookies. “Um… yes?”

Wade’s eyes widened—or rather, the exaggerated white circles on his mask made it seem like they did. “YOU’RE MARRIED?!” he screeched, his voice breaking into octaves that would make a soprano jealous. “Married?!” He repeated, staggering back like the mere concept had physically assaulted him. “Who’s the lucky sucker. Is it Thor? Please tell me it’s Thor. I’ve always wanted to be the cool uncle to a little demigod baby. Imagine the family reunions—me teaching a tiny hammer-wielding munchkin how to blow stuff up. Incredible.”

“Wade—” you tried, but the train had left the station, and it wasn’t stopping for anyone.

“No, no, wait. Let me guess!” he said, thrusting a finger in the air like a detective cracking the case. “Steve Rogers? Nah, too noble. He’d insist on taking you on, like, a billion proper dates before even thinking about proposing. Clint Barton? No way, the dude’s got more kids than bullets in Quicksilver. Oh!” He spun around, gasping as though struck by divine inspiration. “Is it Black Widow? Oh, wait. No. Been there, done that.”

“Wade!” you said sharply, grabbing his arm before he could start naming literally everyone in the Avengers roster. “Stop.”

He froze mid-ramble, turning to you with exaggerated curiosity. “What? Who is it? Is it Vision? Please say it’s not Vision. I mean, I’m not kinkshaming, but the guy’s basically a walking USB drive.”

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose and opened the door a bit wider. “Just— look.”

Wade tilted his head. And there, standing behind you, with his arms crossed, was Bucky Barnes. He was watching the scene unfold with a mixture of amusement and confusion, his metal fingers tapping a steady rhythm against his bicep. You’ve told Bucky about Wade, of course, but you didn’t think he’d actually meet him. “So,” he began, “this is Wade.”

“Wow,” Wade whispered, his voice dropping to a reverent hush as he took in the sight before him. He turned back to you, his hands flapping excitedly like a kid on Christmas morning.

“You mean to tell me,” Wade began, pacing uninvited into your living room as if he owned the place. He dropped a duffel bag on the floor with a dramatic flourish and pressed one hand over his heart like he was delivering a Shakespearean monologue. “That you, my best interdimensional buddy, married this glorious hunk of beef and vibranium?”

You sighed, shutting the door behind him. You supposed Wade was just here now. No going back.

Bucky, leaning casually against the wall with his arms crossed, raised an unimpressed brow but didn’t seem particularly bothered. “You’re laying it on pretty thick, pal.”

“Thick?” Wade echoed, whirling around to face Bucky with wide eyes as if he had personally offended him. “Thick doesn’t even begin to cover it. This—this right here—is grade-A, USDA-approved beefcake. We’re talking prime rib, Winter Soldier.”

He took a step back and began circling Bucky, appraising him like a contestant at a county fair judging show ponied. His movements were exaggerated, tapping his chin thoughtfully.

“Wade,” you said, voice tight as you rubbed your temples, though you must admit: you kinda missed this typical Deadpool nonesense. “Please.”

But Wade was on a roll now. “And the hair!” he exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air like he’d just discovered the eighth wonder of the world. He gestured wildly to Bucky’s slightly tousled, shoulder-length locks. “What is this? A shampoo commercial? A romance novel cover? I mean, look at this man! He’s like Rapunzel’s broody assassin cousin!”

Bucky’s lips twitched ever so slightly, and you caught the faintest hint of a smirk forming.

But Wade wasn’t done yet. He leaned in close to Bucky’s face, squinting dramatically like he was examining a masterpiece in a gallery. “And those eyes. Piercing icy blue! Are they legal? Tell me, do you smolder like this on purpose, or is it just natural?”

“Wade,” you warned again, burying your face in your hands. You were halfway between mortification and resignation, but Wade was completely oblivious—or just didn’t care.

He spun back to you, pointing an accusatory finger. “Be honest with me. Every morning, do you wake up, roll over, and thank god you’re alive to witness his Magnum Opus?”

Bucky snorted, finally breaking his silence. He glanced at you, his eyes sparkling with thinly veiled amusement. “Is he always like this?” he asked.

“Yes,” you groaned, dragging your hands down your face. “And somehow, it’s worse when he’s complimenting people.”

“And the voice!” Wade continued, throwing his hands in the air. “Oh my god, that gravelly, low, I’ve-seen-some-shit tone. Say something, Soldier Boy. Anything. Just talk to me.”

Bucky blinked, clearly caught between humoring Wade and being mildly uncomfortable. “Something.”

Wade gasped as if he’d just heard angels sing. “Jesus Christ, that did things to me.”

“Paws off my husband,” you said, swatting Wade’s shoulder.

“Seriously,” Wade said, crouching in front of Bucky like he was about to propose. “What’s it like being this hot? Is it a burden?”

Bucky was starting to smirk.

“Look at this!” Wade said, standing up and gesturing broadly to Bucky. “Broad shoulders. Stupidly dainty waist. Those thighs could crush my skull, and I’d thank him for it.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow, his smirk growing. “Should I be flattered or worried?”

“Flattered,” Wade said immediately. “I’m harmless. Mostly.” He turned to you. “You lucky bitch. You bagged a walking wet dream. How?” He demanded, “Blackmail? Hypnosis? Some ancient magic spell?”

“I’m charming,” you deadpanned.

“You know what? I get it,” Wade declared, pacing around your living room like a man on a mission. He waved a hand in Bucky’s general direction, as though he were appraising a luxury car. “I’d retire too if I got to be railed by this Terminator daily.”

You slapped a hand over your face, your skin heating with embarrassment. “Wade…”

He ignored you completely, flopping onto your couch as if it had been personally reserved for him. He peeled his mask up sad put it on the coffee table. “This is definitely an upgrade from your exes.”

Your face flushed further, frustration bubbling up alongside the mortification. Bucky had never heard of this before. It’s not like it mattered, these were all people in different universes, after all. “I’m warning you—”

Bucky, meanwhile, casually sat down on the sofa across from Wade, one arm draped along the backrest. He looked calm, eyes gleaming with amusement. You plopped into the armchair, already feeling the headache forming.

But Wade wasn’t done. “No, no,” He gestured wildly toward Bucky with both hands, his tone becoming even more conspiratorial. “Let’s talk about this. Because, Beefcake, you need to know where you stand. You’re miles better than the disasters she used to date.”

Bucky crossed his arms, smirking faintly. He was enjoying this was too much. “Oh, yeah?”

“Lets start a with President Loki,” Wade replied with a grin that practically split his face. He spun dramatically to face you, eyes wide with mock disbelief. “Imagine a gold-plated turd sprouted legs and started giving speeches. Her first mistake was thinking he had a personality under all that ego. Her second mistake was sticking around long enough to find out he didn’t.”

Bucky arched an eyebrow at you, tilting his head slightly. “President Loki?”

You groaned, rubbing your temples as if that could erase the memory. “It’s… complicated.”

Wade snorted, adjusting the strap of one of his katanas. “Next up: Mystique,” he continued. “Gorgeous smurf, obviously. Great for roleplay, but terrible for trust. I mean, she’s a shapeshifter. Talk about an identity crisis.”

Bucky let out a chuckle, his shoulders shaking slightly. “She sounds… interesting.”

“Interesting?” Wade repeated, throwing his hands up in mock exasperation. “Oh, I’m just getting started. Let’s talk about Johnny Storm.” He faced you again, gesturing wildly like a frustrated dad. “The Human Torch? The guy whose entire personality is setting himself on fire? Sure, he was pretty, but the dude had the emotional depth of a kiddie pool.”

Bucky smirked now, openly entertained. “Are there others?”

Wade’s grin widened, his eyes gleaming with unholy glee. “Oh, there were others. Oh- oh! Rogue and Gambit?” He turned to Bucky, lowering his voice to a faux-whisper. “At the same time. It’s like watching a soap opera unfold in real time.”

Bucky was laughing outright now. “And you’re saying I’m the upgrade?”

“Oh, beefcake,” Wade said, leaning in. “Not just an upgrade. You’re the crème de la crème. Like season five of Breaking Bad—pretty fucking perfect. You’re probably the healthiest, most emotionally available person she’s ever been with.”

“Stop,” you groaned, sinking deeper into the cushions and wishing you could disappear completely.

“Oh, please don’t,” Bucky teased, his lips curving into a charming grin. “Explains a lot, actually. No wonder you’re so—”

“Don’t.”

“Kinky,” Bucky finished, ignoring your warning entirely.

Wade cackled, his laughter loud and unhinged. “You think she picked it up from her exes?” He leaned in closer to Bucky, stage-whispering, “Beefcake, she didn’t pick up shit from her raccoon trash exes. She’s just built different. Probably came out of the womb with a pair of handcuffs and a ball gag in her mouth.”

“Wade!” you snapped, your face burning.

He held up his hands in mock surrender. “Hey, and don’t worry. We never banged. Too much like siblings. It’s like if Monica and Ross—” He gagged, pausing to mime vomiting on your carpet. “Blegh. See? Nope.”

Bucky shook his head, still chuckling. “Good to know.”

“But listen, Beefcake,” Wade said, clapping his hands together. “If this ever goes south—”

“Wade,” you warned sharply.

“—just call me.“

“WADE!” you snapped, reaching out to smack his arm.

“What?” he asked, feigning innocence. “Possessive much?”

“I’m literally right here!”

Wade laughed, throwing up his hands. “Relax, I’m kidding! I’d never steal him. You two are disgustingly perfect for each other.”

“We do make a great couple,” Bucky said smoothly, a hint of pride in his voice. He shot Wade a look, his tone deadpan. “And no offense, you’re not my type.”

“Ouch?” Wade tilted his head, mockingly intrigued. “What is your type?”

Bucky turned his gaze to you, his voice softening as he said simply, “Her.”

For once, Wade was silent. Then he sighed dramatically, collapsing back onto the couch. “Ugh. You two make me sick. I love it.”

You buried your face in your hands, groaning into your palms. “Why me? Why is this happening to me?”

Wade, utterly unfazed, asked. “Hey, Beefcake, got any beer?”

Bucky, who has how seeming embraced hus new nickname, leaned back against the arm of the couch. “Top shelf in the fridge.”

Without missing a beat, Wade strutted off to the kitchen like he owned the place, humming a Cher song off-key.

You shot Bucky a glare, your eyes narrowing in exasperation.

“Really?” you hissed sarcastically, gesturing toward the kitchen. “You’re encouraging this?”

Bucky shrugged, the picture of calm. “He’s entertaining.”

Entertaining wasn’t the word you’d use. You leaned back against the cushions, crossing your arms. You were annoyed… but you can’t help but smile.

Wade reappeared, holding two bottles of beer and popping one open with what looked like a throwing star. He plopped down beside Bucky, handing him a bottle, and pointed at you with the knife.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Wade said to you. “You’re the one who retired, didn’t tell me, and married this sex god. This is all on you.”

The audacity. You opened your mouth to retort, but Bucky’s low chuckle stopped you in your tracks. You saw the look on your husband’s face, the relaxed posture, the lack of tension in his muscles that he usually had with new people.

Oh no.

They were bonding.

Over you.

And… it got worse.

For the next hour, you sat there in growing horror (and giggles, if you were being honest) as the two of them swapped stories. Wade launched into an over-the-top retelling of the time you “accidentally” blew up a Friends of Humanity base, leaving out the part where he’d distracted you mid-mission with a ridiculous bet.

By the time Wade sprawled across your couch, feet on the coffee table and an empty beer bottle in hand, you were ready to choke the ever living shit out of both if them.

“And then she just left me on Earth-10005 because she was ‘too busy’ dealing with a rogue celestial,” Wade commented, throwing a hand over his heart. “Too busy for me. Can you believe it?”

Bucky, sitting comfortably in the armchair, glanced at you with a teasing smile. “Sounds about right.”

“Hey!” you protested, leaning forward. “That celestial was about to eat the moon!”

Wade wagged a finger at you. “Sure, sure, always saving the world. What about saving me?”He looked at Bucky for support, widening his eyes dramatically.

Bucky snorted.

You glared between the two of them, crushing under your breath.

But dinner rolled around, and things didn’t get any better.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Wade said as he finished dinner leaning so far forward over the table he nearly tipped his chair. “You’re telling me she punched a god because she thought they were just a really smug human?”

Bucky raised an eyebrow, fighting back a gig of laughter. “It’s true. Happened on our second date.”

“Oh, for the love of—” you groaned. “You’re both the worst,” you slumped in your seat. “I hate both of you,” you muttered, glaring at Bucky.

Bucky leaned over, brushing a hand against yours with a teasing smile. “No, you don’t.”

That night, you decided to let Wade crash on your couch. It wasn’t like you had much of a choice—he was sprawled on the couch, snoring loud enough to wake the neighbours, and there was no moving him to the guest bed without a forklift. Besides, you secretly loved seeing your best friend and your husband bond (even if it had been at your expense).

But as you slipped into bed, Bucky pulled you into his arms. His metal arm gripped your waist, his other hand stroked a lazy pattern on your back. He pressed a lingering kiss to your temple.

“I love you, doll,” he murmured.

You sighed, nestling closer to him, the smell of him—vanilla and a bit woodsy—filled your lungs. “I love you, too.”

Bucky chuckled, a low rumble forming in his chest. “Gotta say, glad to finally meet your… ‘bestie’.”

You groaned, flipping to face him.

“Hmmph,” you muttered, half-buried in his chest.

“Admit it,” He chuckled, pulling you closer. “You’re happy we get along.”

You tilted your head back to meet his eyes, pretending to pout. “Whatever.”

He arched a brow. He knew you inside and out and there was no point trying to hide anything from the man who could tell you were lying but the way your eyes moved. “You’re very happy about it,” he insisted.

You huffed, but your lips curved up. “Maybe. Just a little.”

“Thought so,” he teased, leaning down to brush his lips against yours. His thumb brushed your cheek as he moved his mouth against yours.

When you finally pulled back, his blue eyes twinkled with mischief. “So… President Loki, huh?” He teased. He was aware of your multiversal travel, but he never pried before, not unless you started the conversation.

Your eyes widened and you groaned, face disappearing under the blankets. “Don’t even start.”

He gently pried the duvet away, his grin wickedly handsome. “Come on. I bet he was self-absorbed.”

You glared at him. “Yes,” you admitted, “of course.”

“Guess that I-Can-Fix-Him attitude didn’t work with him as well as he worked with me, huh?” He raised his eyebrow.

“Ugh,” you shook your head and smacked his chest as he leaned in to nip at your lower lip.

After a while, he asked. “So… I’m better in bed, right?”

You raised an eyebrow, was he… jealous?

He tried to conceal it behind a coy smile.

Yes, he was still partly amused, but you just knew a part of him was just dying to know.

“Of course,” You said gently, running your fingers through his hair. “You’re the best sex I’ve ever had.”

His eyes darkened slightly.

Oh.

Should you not have said that? Was it going to get into that pretty head of his? “Even better than the shapeshifter?”

“Way better,” you admitted, and the look on his face was nothing short of triumphant.

Bucky’s smirk turned downright devilish. “Damn right.”

You didn’t even have time to protest before he rolled you beneath him, his weight pressing you into the mattress. His hands braced on either side of your head as he leaned down, his breath warm against your lips. “Say it again.”

“Bucky—”

“Say it,” he demanded, his voice low and commanding.

Your heart raced, your breath hitching as his mouth skimmed along your jawline, planting slow, teasing kisses down your neck. “You’re the best—,” you whispered out a breathy moan, “—I’ve ever had.”

“Good,” his hand slid beneath your shirt to rest against the curve of your waist. “Because I don’t ever plan on letting you forget it.”

—

The next morning was somehow even more absurd.

When you wandered into the kitchen, still groggy from sleep, the first thing you saw was Wade. He was sitting on the table, wearing a pair of Bucky’s sweatpants—comically loose around the thighs—and one of your crop tops, which didn’t even reach his navel. He was cheerfully devouring a stack of pancakes that Bucky had apparently made.

Bucky turned and kissed you good morning as you entered.

“Morning, bestie,” Wade said as you plopped down at the table. He pointed his fork at you. “I’ve decided something very important.”

“Oh, God,” you groaned, rubbing your temples as you slid into a chair at the table. Bucky set a plate of pancakes in front of you before sitting down beside you. “What now?”

“I’m the godfather of your second child,” Wade announced with the conviction of a man unveiling a revolutionary plan. “It’s decided. No take-backs.”

You froze mid-reach for the syrup, blinking. Slowly, you turned to Bucky, who looked just as bewildered as you, before turning back to Wade. “We don’t even have a first child.”

“Exactly,” Wade said, shoving a mouthful of pancake into his mouth. “First kids are always screw-ups. It’s like a trial run. Logan can have that one.”

“Logan?” Bucky asked, brow furrowing.

“Oh, he’s great,” Wade said, waving his fork dismissively. “Huge, jacked man. Got claws.” He made a stabbing motion with his free hand, as if that explained everything. “I’ll bring him next time.”

You sighed, shaking your head. Bucky was still staring at Wade like he was a walking question mark, wondering if giving your hypothetical kid a trigger-happy god father was a good idea.

But this was your life now, and you should have realised that just because you stopped traveling to different multiverses didn’t mean the multiverse would ever stop coming to you.

-end.

extra note: should I open a general Bucky Taglist since I write for him a lot?

Taglist from January Posting Schedule: @mathcat345 @starsmoonn @my-mind-is-incognito

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