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twinswallows · 3 years

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Understudy

summary: Bucky knew after he'd ended things, you'd eventually move on. But when he's confronted with the reality of you with another man, he's certain it will tear him apart pairing: bucky x reader word count: 5.6k warnings: jealous!bucky, exes to lovers, protective!bucky is a self-sabotaging!bucky, frat boy shield agents try to get handsy a/n: based off of these lyrics from Exile by Taylor Swift & Bon Iver

I can see you starin', honey Like he's just your understudy Like you'd get your knuckles bloody for me

Bucky dipped his fingers into the collar of his necktie and tugged. Slumped over the edge of the bar, he did his best to ignore the conversations of the wealthy donors as they circled around him, whispering to one another when they spotted the reflection of silver on his hand. He wrapped his grip tighter around the edge of his glass. It splintered down the side.

There had been a time once when he enjoyed these sorts of parties. Getting dressed up with a beautiful woman on his arm, dancing at the center of an empty floor, the anticipation of the ride home, and clothes worth more than his paycheck thrown haphazardly to the floor.

He wouldn’t have come at all tonight if Stark hadn’t insisted he needed to improve the Winter Soldier’s public image. It felt wrong to even wear the damn suit if you weren’t holding onto his arm, whispering into his ear and sneaking pastries from the kitchen before dinner.

Perhaps that was why as he caught sight of you stepping into the ballroom in a dress you’d once purchased with his only gaze in mind, Bucky shattered the glass in his hand. He paid no attention to the whiskey as it spilled to the bar or the shards of glass on the counter as he took in the floor-length, ruby gown.

It hugged at your waist and slipped into elegant flowing fabric along your legs, a slit inching up along your thigh. The neckline hung low enough to meet your sternum, exposing a long line of skin and the curve of your chest under a thin, gold chain.

Bucky shifted uncomfortably in his position on the barstool. He could still remember the skip in his heart when you’d given him a glimpse of the dress as it hung in your closet and jokes of whether it would look better on his bedroom floor.

It wasn’t the first time he’d seen you since the breakup, but it was the first time he’d seen you on the arm of another man.

Agent Mark Lanning sauntered into the room in a pace a half step too quick for your heels, though he didn’t seem to notice as you held on tight to his arm. He carried himself with the heightened ego of an agent who had seen one good mission and clung to inflated stories of his bravery as if he'd been presented with honors and medals upon the halls in SHIELD. The way he looked at you with a possessive nature in his eye masked only by the charm in his smile was enough to prove that Lanning saw you in the same way he boasted of his achievements: a prize to be won.

He walked into the room as if to say, “Look who picked up the pieces the Winter Soldier left behind!”, as if it were some kind of game to win over the heart of a woman who had so selflessly loved a soulless man.

Bucky kept his eyes on you as you gestured to Natasha and Steve. You turned to Lanning, tugging sweetly on the sleeve of his jacket to urge him to follow, but your smile quickly fell as he grumbled something under his breath. Bucky felt the bile rise in his throat.

This wasn’t how this was supposed to happen. You weren’t supposed to end up with another SHIELD agent, much less a man who constantly kept a hand on your lower back as if to anchor you solely to him. You were supposed to find something normal, something safe, something kinder to the life of a woman who owned a coffeeshop in Brooklyn, something far away from the danger of the Avengers. You were supposed to be free of the weight that came with being with a man under the threat of vengeance and retaliation of his enemies.

Bucky broke your heart to keep you safe and Lanning swooped in like a fucking vulture to tear at the pieces, to leave you bleeding in an open road under the scorch of a sun at high noon.

“You look like shit.” Sam suddenly appeared on Bucky’s left, his watchful stare eyeing the shine of spilled whiskey on the bar and the stench of it on Bucky’s sleeve.

Bucky knew better than to keep his eyes on you with Sam hanging over his shoulder, but there was something about the way Lanning was leering over you that Bucky couldn’t justify anything less. The primal need to protect you hadn’t gone away the day he ended your relationship, just as the burning tug in his chest hadn’t lessened each time you walked into the room.

He still loved you and Sam knew it.

“What do you know about Mark Lanning?” Bucky grumbled as Natasha and Steve made their way over to you. You glowed at the sight of them, missing old friends you hadn’t seen since the breakup, and Lanning all but rolled his eyes as you threw your arms around Steve’s neck.

Sam groaned. “Don’t do this, man. You broke up with her, remember? Let them be.”

“He’s an asshole, Sam,” Bucky gritted out, barely able to restrain himself as Lanning clearly checked out Natasha with eyes trailing down the entire length of her body as she was caught up in conversation with you. “He doesn’t care about her. He’s using her. She deserves someone better than that piece of—”

Sam scoffed. “Someone like you?”

Bucky shot him a glare. He clenched his jaw. “I can’t be with her, Sam. You know that.”

“No, I don’t actually,” Sam rolled his eyes. “You clearly still love her and—”

“You were on that mission, Sam,” Bucky snapped. “You know damn well why I had to end things.”

It happened in Moscow when they’d raided an ex-Hydra operative’s safe house.

Dozens of pictures had been strung up against the wall amongst newspaper clippings and headlines of Avenger sightings over the last three years. He’d seen shots of Natasha, of Steve and Sam, of Tony, of himself—but the one that made his heart stop was the image of you circled in bright red marker, an iced coffee in hand as you closed up shop for the day, oblivious to the camera as it hid behind a sea of tourists.

He had no proof that the retired agent held any current connections to Hydra or that the walls of his home amounted to anything more than the deranged mind of an old man, but Bucky couldn’t take the chance. You couldn’t be associated to him after this.

The affection of a kind, selfless woman wasn’t enough. The undying loyalty of a man who’d been ripped of his identity and his free will wasn’t enough. His love for you wasn’t enough.

Bucky would rather break your heart than hold you bloody and broken in his arms. It was his only choice.

“I know you’re trying to protect her,” Sam eased, softening as he followed Bucky’s gaze to find you brushing the crumbs off the corner of Lanning’s mouth before he leaned in to kiss you. Bucky averted his gaze, holding his breath. Sam sighed. “This is killing you, man. Is it really any better that she’s with Lanning? You think he’d give even half as much to protect her as you would?”

“It’s too dangerous,” Bucky stressed, repeating the same words he’d told himself over and over again to justify what he’d done.

“Dangerous or not, you should have at least given her the chance to decide for herself,” Sam said, picking up the drink he’d ordered from the bartender and stood from his seat. “Instead, you made that call for her and now you’re subjecting yourself to watching the woman you love dote over a douchebag like Lanning.”

“What do you want me to do, Sam?” Bucky pinched at the bridge of his nose. “I can’t be selfish with her life. Pretending like I never saw her picture on that wall, pretending like our enemies don’t know what she means to me... it’s not an option. I can’t gamble with her life just because I miss her.”

Sam sighed, his shoulders slumping. The strain in Bucky’s voice did not go unnoticed, nor did the quick clearing of his throat and the brush over his eyes. Sam took a step forward, placing a hand on Bucky’s shoulder and gave a short squeeze. There was nothing he could say and Bucky knew that. He appreciated the gesture nonetheless.

Then, Bucky was on his own again, surrounded by a dozen wealthy donors and their hushed gossip as he nursed another whiskey that would do little to touch the fire burning in his veins.

He kept his position in the shadows as he watched you smile at Lanning the way you used to smile at him, how you’d run a hand along his arm to gather his attention, as you leaning against him as you laughed. You were beautiful, stunning, and it still wasn’t enough to encompass how easily you’d captured Bucky's attention. Red dress or coffee stained apron; you were the most beautiful woman in every room.

But Bucky noticed Lanning, too. He watched how Lanning’s eyes wandered to the bodies of women as they strolled by the table, trailing down the curves of their dresses and shooting them a playful smirk when they caught his eye. Bucky watched as Lanning pulled you away from conversations by kissing you mid-sentence as if to keep you quiet. He felt his chest grow tight as Lanning’s hand slid under the table and you jumped, shooting him a look of surprise and quickly excusing yourself.

Bucky downed the rest of the whiskey and followed you.

He knew it was a bad idea, that he had no claim to you or your heart, but as you slipped between guests and weaved around the tables in heed of the balcony and the open view of the city skyline, Bucky couldn’t help but follow in your wake. You’d always taken him to the roof of the tower in the moments he couldn’t catch his breath, held his hand as you opened windows to your apartment in the dead of winter – the fresh air providing a solace you couldn’t find elsewhere. Bucky quickened his pace.

The balcony was empty as you stepped outside and inhaled until it filled your lungs to the brim. You leaned against the railing, hands gripping to the edge as you looked out to the lights of the city. Relief in the solitude. You shivered as a breeze caught your shoulders.

Bucky took a careful step closer, his footsteps remarkably silent in his decades of training.

“He doesn’t deserve you.”

You turned at the sound of Bucky’s voice, hand clutched at your heart as you took in the sight of him. His cheeks burned warm under your gaze; your eyes pointed and narrowed, so unlike the delicacy in which he was used to from you. They fell to his feet just as quickly.

“That’s not for you to decide.” Even in your anger, your voice remained as gentle as the first few drops of a rainfall. You held your ground, but you couldn’t meet his eye, almost as if you were afraid of what you might find beyond the storms of ocean currents in his stare.

“You’re not happy with him,” Bucky urged, stepping close enough that he could feel the heat of your breath. He wanted to pull you into his arms, smell the conditioner in your hair and press his lips to the crown of your head, but he’d lost that right months ago. “You’re not happy. You’re trying to be, but it’s not working. I know you better than that. Lanning is using you, Y/n. You have to see that.”

You scoffed, a glimpse of the anger you never allowed him to witness bubbling to the surface. Not even in the dark overcast of your apartment living room when he’d sat you down on the couch and dismantled two years of your lives together did you so much as bare your teeth at him.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” you snapped, shoving aside his hand as he reached toward you in comfort. “You don’t get to—to just storm back into my life whenever you feel like it! You can’t just break up with me out of nowhere and expect to have any say in how I deal with the fallout! You wanted out? So be out, James!"

Bucky flinched. It wasn’t a name familiar on your tongue and it felt like you were drawing a line in the sand, putting a wedge further between you as wide as a mountain. To call him by a name so formal, without the sugary sweet affection in your voice, it made him recoil at the sound.

You shook your head, letting the anger quickly drain from your body as you turned back out to the skyline. Bucky followed, leaning his back to the railing as he stared inside to the sea of guests. The air was thick between you. Bucky held his breath.

“You can’t do this to me, Bucky,” you sighed, sniffling under the chill of the breeze. “You can’t act like I’m still yours.”

He knew. It didn’t make it hurt less as the knife plunged itself deep into his chest and twisted.

“You decided to leave, Bucky. You.” You could hardly get the words out. The hurt lingered heavy in your voice. “You think so poorly of him and yet he’s the one I’m here with tonight.”

Bucky clenched his jaw. He could feel your eyes burning on him and he tried not to let the heartache slip through the surface. You had every right to move on without his interference. It was what he wanted for you, wasn’t it? He didn’t get to have a say in who you chose to do that with, and still, he couldn’t keep the words from spilling past his lips.

“He’s not good enough for you.”

You sighed, a terrible kind of sadness coming over your features that threatened to shatter Bucky’s heart where he stood. You nodded. “Yeah, well, I’d know a bit about that, wouldn’t I?”

Bucky blinked at you, a wash of panic quickly sweeping through him enough to still his heart and plummet his stomach down to the center of the Earth.

Was it... Was it possible you believed the reason he’d ended things was because you weren’t enough for him?

“Y/n...” he called your name in a broken whisper, but you’d already turned back to the doors.

He would have told you the whole truth of it if you’d only stayed, if you paused as he called your name, but you kept walking. But he deserved as much. You didn’t even dare for a final look over your shoulder before you disappeared back into the crowd.

****

Bucky spent the rest of the evening longing for the days when the sweet burn of alcohol would render him beyond the capacity for guilt and heartbreak, replacing his longing and jealousy with a numb aftertaste of a comforting darkness. The whiskey barely touched him anymore and he remained drenched to the bone in regret as he watched across the room as Mark Lanning stole you into his arms and hurled you to the dance floor.

Hours passed by since Bucky confronted you on the balcony – including a five-course dinner, several intoxicated speeches, and an overenthusiastic light show courteous of Stark’s latest suit. Every so often, your gaze would flicker over to his as he stood at the bar, alone, and the smile on your face would fade just enough so it didn’t touch your eyes. Bucky couldn’t help the pit of shame that gathered in his stomach in response.

It wasn’t until you excused yourself to the restroom, Lanning following quickly behind in tow, that Bucky finally resided to go home. He could subject himself to watching you flirt with another man, to see your arms around his waist and his lips dangerously close to your own, but Bucky wasn't sure he’d survive if he saw you walk back into the gala with a few hairs out of place, a wrinkle in your dress, and a flush upon your skin.

Bucky didn’t bother with goodbyes and quickly made his way to the coat room. As he approached, a young woman was staring down at her phone from behind the counter, waves of thick, black hair falling down into her face. Bucky cleared his throat.

She lifted her head, bright red lipstick curving up in a shy smile. She was pretty, Bucky thought. The kind of pretty that maybe if his chest didn’t feel so tight, so ripped at the seams, that maybe he could have convinced himself to find distraction in a woman like her.

“Heading out so soon, handsome?” she drawled, eyes unabashedly trailing down his body as she slipped the coat number from his hands. Bucky held his breath. He didn’t like the way she was looking at him. It left him feeling unnerved. Exposed.

He nodded. “Yeah. These things have never been my—”

Bucky paused upon catching Lanning’s voice echo from down the hall. He narrowed his eyes, taking a step back as he turned his head in search of you. The coat check girl raised an eyebrow at him, setting his overcoat on the table.

“I’ll, uh... I’ll be right back,” Bucky mumbled as he turned down the hall without sparing a glance over his shoulder. He followed the sound of Lanning’s voice down the hall, soon recognizing the familiar click of your heels, but... he counted more than two heavy set pairs behind you. Men's shoes.

He turned the hallway to find his suspicions correct. Lanning, along with an unknown man in a suit, trailed behind you. Bucky clenched his fists.

“You’re about to owe me a hundred bucks, Mathews,” Lanning snickered under his breath, bumping the fist of an agent Bucky had only ever seen in passing. The two of them watched as you pushed open the door to the restroom and Bucky realized suddenly that you’d hadn’t expected he’d follow you.

“Nailing the leftovers of the Winter Soldier?” Mathews smirked, his arrogant grin staring at the closed door behind you. “Now that is worth a star on the fucking Wall of Valor. Bravest man I know.”

Lanning burst into laughter as he stepped closer to the door, his hand on the knob, and it left a sickening feeling in Bucky’s stomach. “Can't believe I almost turned down this bet! Best hundred you’re ever gonna spend, my friend.”

It had been years since the Winter Soldier occupied Buck’s mind, since something else took over and rendered him a passenger to a primal instinct at the wheel, but as the latch clicked on the restroom door, Bucky snapped.

A blinding rage tore through him. Red and hot. Scalding to the surface and tearing through his nerves.

Bucky barely felt the break in his knuckles as he uppercut Mathews on his way to Lanning. Wide eyes turned in his direction and even as Lanning’s hands came up to his side in defense, the silver reflection of Bucky’s left hand curled into Lanning’s collar and yanked him away from the door. Bucky shoved him into the open hallway, a single right hook to his jawline and blood spewed onto the carpet as he fell to the ground in a heap next to his friend.

But Bucky wasn’t done with him.

“Fuck, man! Get the hell off of me!”

Lanning withered on the floor as Bucky crawled over him, holding him down with the strength of vibranium, his right hand curled into a fist and ready to swing. Lanning’s eyes went wide.

“Don’t! Don’t!” he begged, doing his best to shield his face, though it did little use. “I’m sorry, okay?! You were done with her! I thought she was fair game!”

If Bucky had any control, he might have told Lanning that you weren’t a prize to be won. He might have threatened him within an inch of his life if he so much as looked at you again. He might have told Lanning that you’d believed in him, that you’d trusted that he was a good man despite the rumors and despite his reputation, and he’d ruined his chance at the one good thing that would ever happen in his sad, pathetic life.

But Bucky didn’t have control, not when it came to you, and instead, his fist met Lanning’s face again and again until Lanning no longer squirmed under his hold, until a crowd had started to form at the edge of the hall, until Lanning slumped limp, until blood coated his hand, until he heard your voice calling to him over the ringing in his ears.

“Bucky! Bucky, stop!”

He froze, fist held high, as he turned in search of you.

He expected fear in your eyes, for you to be ashamed of him or frightened of the fresh blood dripping from his knuckles. Instead, you knelt down beside him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. He sank into it, a familiar feeling, as it grounded him and pulled him back into his body.

“Come with me,” you told him, glancing over at the sea of guests Sam was attempting to redirect back to the ballroom. Hushed whispers grew louder as the flash of cameras blinded him, curious stares trying to catch a glimpse of the unhinged ex-war criminal they foolishly allowed to be a hero. He glanced up to find Steve rushing towards him, eyeing Lanning as he emitted a subtle groan – proof of life. Steve exchanged a knowing look with you that Bucky couldn’t read.

You tugged on the sleeve of his suit jacket, smiling sweetly at him like you used to when the cover of moonlight swept over his room and he couldn’t quite remember was he was. “It’s alright, Bucky. Come on.”

Bucky nodded, slowly pulling himself up to his feet. He tried not to focus on your hand circled around the cold embrace of metal as you led him away from the scene. His vision started to come in a little clearer the further you took him away from the hushed whispers of the crowd. He could feel the pulsing in his right hand, the sting of open wounds on his knuckles, the pang of shame deep in his gut.

You didn’t say anything as you led him to the elevator, pressed the button for his floor and waited. A heavy inhale rose in your chest and you squeezed his hand – a nervous habit you hadn’t quite lost.

Bucky couldn’t take his eyes off of you. He knew he was staring, but you were here, holding his hand, and for the first time in months he felt like he was home again.

He didn’t need to ask where you were taking him. It was a route he was more than familiar with. After long, grueling missions, where he’d meet you in the landing dock, racing down the platform of the quinjet to meet you in his arms, you’d look him over for injuries. The superficial ones he could heal on his own, but it helped when you cleaned the wounds. He could have done it himself or walked the few extra steps to the med wing, but there was something about the way your hands danced over his skin, delicate, as if you were handling something precious.

You brought him to his room and closed the door behind you.

“Sit,” you ordered, pointing to his bed and Bucky did so without question.

He listened as you made your way to his bathroom, gathering the first aid kit still placed under the sink and soaked a washcloth in warm water. It was strange being back in this room with you, in a routine so familiar. He’d almost forgotten of the painful months in-between before you emerged from the bathroom with a frown upon your face.

You sighed as you sat down beside him, the weight of the bed dipping only enough to lean you against his thigh, drawing you a little closer as if even the mere inches between you were too much. Silently, you gestured for his hand and he slipped it into your own. Your hands were warm, like you’d been holding tight into fists, but they were just as he’d remembered. They’d fit so perfectly in his own.

He paid no mind to the sting of the alcohol as you worked, focusing entirely on the feeling of your hands, your fingertips, watching as a hair fell down into your face no matter how many times you tucked it behind your ear.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you said quietly, though you did not look up to meet his eye.

Bucky shook his head. “If you knew the things he said about you, you’d—”

“I heard him.” You pressed the warm cloth to his knuckles, bloodied as it stained the light blue color of the fabric. Dabbing at the open wounds, you chewed on the inside of your lip. “I’m not your responsibility. You don’t have to protect me, Bucky, especially not from men like Mark Lanning.”

You set the cloth down and began to wrap his knuckles in bandages. They’d be clean in a few days' time, settled over untouched skin, but you never liked to see him hurt. You’d wrap every wound, bandage every cut, if it would heal even seconds faster.

“I’d do anything for you," Bucky murmured quietly.

You stilled, holding your breath as if your heart might have skipped. Bucky watched you, certain of what he was hoping for, though as you clenched your jaw and shook your head, his whole body began to ache.

“You can’t say those things to me, Bucky,” you turned your head in an effort to keep him from seeing the tears as they burned in your eyes. You set his hand back on his thigh, pulling your own to cross protectively over your chest. You stood from the bed, the long flow of your dress swaying against your legs as you paced. “How am I supposed to move on if you’re standing by to knock out every guy that tries to do me wrong? How do I stop loving you?”

“You don’t.” The words spilled from his lips before he could stop them. It was selfish and perhaps it was cruel, but he begged. “Please— don’t.”

Bucky pushed himself to his feet, closing the space between you. Tears were wet on your cheeks as you watched him. You made no effort to push him away as he lifted his hand to the side of your face, brushing along your cheekbones to wipe the tears as they fell.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, voice breaking in the effort. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

You shook your head, though you clung to him tighter, your hands gripping into the fabric of his suit. Bucky leaned in a kissed your temple, then your cheek, your forehead, and pulled you close enough to rest against his heartbeat. A rock lodged at the back of his throat, threatening to choke him before it consumed him whole. His guilt, his shame, his regret.

“Please forgive me,” he cried, tucking his nose to your hair, breathing in the comforting scent of your shampoo, something so familiar, so personal, it ached. “I should have given you a choice... but I was so afraid, Y/n. If something happened to you... I wouldn’t... I’d never...”

You pulled back, just enough to meet his eye. The warm touch of your hands rested delicately against his cheeks as you searched his eyes, a flicker of realization clicking as you drew the lines between his confession. You sighed and watched as it swept through your entire body. He could feel it in his hands against your spine.

“The enemies I have...” Bucky continued, “they could use you against me and... and I’d do anything to keep you safe, Y/n. Anything.”

“Including breaking my heart,” you realized, your thumb sliding over his lower lip as it trembled. He nodded, tears slipping to his cheeks. He’d held it in for so long, at the simple touch of your hands to his face, he was falling apart at the seams.

Your hands trembled as you parted your lips. “Do you... Do you still love me?”

Bucky pulled back, stunned at the waver of uncertainty in your voice. As he scanned your face to find your question was sincere, he exhaled a heavy breath, tugging you back against him with a kiss to your forehead.

“I never stopped,” he confessed. “Not for a moment.”

The relief was evident in your body as you melted against him. He didn’t know how long you stood there with him, wrapped in his arms, his fingers dancing along the open back of your dress and the edges of shimmering red fabric. It was in your touch that he found himself on solid ground again, your arms crossed around his shoulders. He pressed his nose to your neck, inhaling the scent of your shampoo, your lotion, until his knees felt weak.

“Let me fix this,” he begged, his voice barely a whisper. He held onto you tighter, afraid to let go, afraid your answer may be ‘no.’ “Let me make this right, sweetheart. Please. I... I made a mistake. I was wrong to have ended things between us. I was just so terrified they’d hurt you as way to get to me and I couldn’t take it. Please, don’t leave me.”

He couldn’t lift his face from the crook of your neck and you didn’t attempt to pull away. Instead, he felt your fingers gently rake through the hair, drawing shivers in their wake, then, palms cupping at the nape of his neck. Your breath was warm to his ear as you handled him with the kind of care he hadn’t known in decades.

“What about your enemies? What about Hydra?”

He could feel your hesitancy as you held your breath.

“I don’t know,” Bucky admitted, his voice wavering. “I’m still scared out of my damn mind. I’m still terrified that this is just me being selfish, that I could get you killed just for loving you but... I can’t do this anymore, Y/n. I can’t be without you. I’ll do whatever it takes to protect you – to keep you safe. I’ll do anything.”

He felt the slight tug on his collar as you pulled him to look at you, putting only enough space between you to meet his eye. Your lower lip was swollen, like you’d been chewing on the edges, and there was a lingering hope reflecting against your iris.

“You’ll take the risk?” you said.

“Only if you ask me to.” Bucky clenched his jaw as a wave of nausea filled guilt swept through him. “I can’t make this decision for you. I know that now. I love you and I’d give the world to you if I could but... it’s your life, honey. Your choice.”

Bucky dropped his gaze, preparing himself. He tried to hold his breath but found his chest was too tight, like an anvil sat upon his ribs. He’d done too much damage for you to take him back now. There was nothing he could offer in repentance. Even if you agreed, your consolation prize would be a life tied to a man with demons on his back, your safety at constant risk. It wasn’t an offer he’d take if he were in your shoes. His love, while loyal and unconditional to the bone, was not enough.

“Okay.”

It was all you said. Bucky raised an eyebrow, not understanding.

Then, your lips curved at the edges – soft, almost too subtle to notice – and you were smiling at him. You pressed in closer until your lips grazed against his cheek, over faded scars and the bristled shadow on his jaw.

“I will always choose you, Bucky,” you said with such certainty that Bucky’s heart stilled in his chest. “I knew who you were when we met. I’ve never been blind to the danger of being with you but... it’s worth it to me. You’re worth it.”

Bucky swallowed. If he wasn’t holding you in his arms, he wondered if he might float up into space, or sink down beneath the surface of the earth. It didn’t seem possible that you could weigh all that danger, the baggage of being with him, and choose to love him anyway.

“Promise me – right now – that you won’t push me away like that again.” You guided him to meet your eye, hands pressed firmly to the sides of his face. “Promise me that as long as you love me, you’ll be mine. Because I’m yours, Bucky. I’ve always been yours.”

“I promise.” It came out breathy and aching, but he meant it.

When you kissed him again, it was like taking his first breath of air after months underwater; sinking deeper and deeper through the currents, his lungs filled with saltwater, his skin cut by the weeds, until you pulled him to the surface with the warmth of the sun on his face.

He could feel the relief in the way your lips moved on his, how you’d ached for this the way that he had for months. It was familiar and safe and exactly where he was meant to be.

---

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#please this is all i’ve needed #protective bucky forever #bucky

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