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sapphicsaints · 10 months

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would it have been worth taking?

A/N: I'm alive! slowly getting back into posting after a rough few months, but I some things backed up including longer fics and crossovers! let me know if anyone would like a part two :)

Tamar Kir Bataar x f!Reader

Summary: Later on, you learned exactly why Tamar was distant, why she drew that boundary that night, and not for the first time - you wanted to kill the bastard prince of Ravka. Your older brother assigned her to bodyguard duty, from the moment you boarded his ship.

Warnings: angst, pining, bodyguard trope

Word Count: ~2.3k

Tamar’s your best friend. Hands down. You’d spent so much time together over the years. She knows exactly what your face looks like when you have a losing hand, and you can tell when she’s bluffing from leagues away. Absinthe? You only drink it because of her. Cards? You only started playing because of her.

More and more you realized so much of your life had revolved around her, and it made sense. Tamar’s your best friend, but sometimes those boundaries get blurred and the lines crossed. One night, drunk off your ass, you kissed.

She didn’t hesitate. Tamar’s eyes caught hers, and darkened the slightest bit. Y/N leaned in, and Tamar leaned as well. It felt like the world was coming to a stop - everything around them pausing. The clouds didn’t shift, the ship didn’t rock, the fish didn’t swim. Their lips brushed, for a split second, before time started again and Tamar pulled away like someone shocked her.

She shook her head, and refused to meet Y/N’s eyes, standing up and walking away - without a second glance back. She sat there, her fingers touching her lips, ghosting over where Tamar’s had just been. It took a few seconds to set in.

Saints, that hurt more than anything else. A complete rejection - not even a backwards glance to spare. You let it go, and never brought it up. Neither did she. But - on late nights, when the book you were reading wasn’t that interesting, your thoughts would catch up with you and you’d relive every moment in detail, wondering where you went wrong - or how you could have misread the signs. No matter what angle you looked at it - you knew for a fact that she leaned in as well, and you held onto that.

Later on, you learned exactly why Tamar was distant, why she walked away that night, and not for the first time - you wanted to kill the bastard prince of Ravka. Your brother assigned her to bodyguard duty, from the moment you boarded his ship.

“Why do you always follow me around?” She asked Tamar, genuine curiosity on her face. It could’ve come out rude or sharpish, but she kept her tone gentle.

Tamar laughed. “Because it’s my job.”

“What do you mean,” her eyes narrowed, “your job?”

Tamar paused, placing down the dagger she’d been spinning on her finger tip. “I’m your guard.” She said slowly, as if she was speaking to a child.

Y/N blinked twice. “Right.” She muttered, before standing up. “I’m going to bed.” She walked to the door, focusing on keeping her pace steady. Her hand rested on the doorknob, and she turned her head to look at the woman. The woman who’d held her heart for so many years, without even knowing it. “You’re off duty.” She smirked, and shut the door behind her. Y/N didn’t stop until she got to her rooms, and only then let the tears fall.

“What are you going to do about her crush on you?” You heard Zoya say from around the corner, sounding completely exasperated.

Tamar shushed her. You counted to ten and turned the corner, keeping a bright smile on your face. A princess's smile. Tamar would know the difference, but Zoya would have no clue. “Zoya. I need your help.” You announced, and she surprised flash across her features, before her usual cool mask of disdain took over.

“With what?” She said sharply.

“I’m picking out an outfit. For a date.” You smiled, and purposefully didn’t look at Tamar. Zoya’s mood changes immediately, and she flashed a shark like grin at Tamar before breezing towards you, linking your arms and dragging you down the hall.

You might not be Grisha, but you could’ve sworn the heart renders blood pressure rose.

Once you were a safe distance away, and had ensured no others were nearby, Zoya asked, “Do you really have a date?”

A mischievous grin crossed your face. “I do.”

Zoya looked absolutely delighted. “Thank the Saints you’re getting over her. Who is it?”

"Busy body." You muttered under your breath, but told her anyways.

–

Over the next few months, you went on several dates. Most of the unsuccessful, considering they all knew exactly who they were taking on a date and blubbered trying to impress you. Several only wanted to be close to the crown. So - you resorted to ‘drastic’ measures, and snuck out of the palace, alone.

–

You were drunk off your ass in some pub, leading a ridiculously bawdy shanty you’d learned during your time at sea. Everybody loved it, and it drew a crowd in. Unfortunately, it also drew in people who knew exactly what to look for.

So, Tamar tugged you off of a bar, dragging out the front door, although you protested and cursed her the entire way. As soon as you’d cleared the door, Tolya threw you over his shoulder and they began running - damned running - back to the palace. You fought back the urge to throw up down his backside.

“Do you at least feel bad for the panic you caused?” Nikolai asked the next morning, as you nursed a massive hangover.

Tamar stood in the corner, leaned back against the wall, one knee propped up, and arms crossed. She looked furious. You watched her for a few moments, before turning back to Nikolai.

“No.” You tilted your chin up, mastering every part of the petulant and spoiled princess. And maybe you were being unnecessarily reckless, but right now - you couldn’t be bothered to give a damn. You’d fought in a war - you deserved a bit of leniency and a chance to be free.

“I expected nothing less.” Nikolai pressed his fingertips against his temples. Sure, he put on the role of disappointed brother well, but you could tell there was a small bit of pride in him. Pride you’d do something stupid. “You might as well live a little while you can.”

While you can … That statement crashed over you.

“What do you mean, while I can?” You said through gritted teeth, and his face turned unnecessarily serious.

“You have to think about your future.”

You stood up, pushing the chair back behind you. “What. Do. You. Mean?” In reality, you knew exactly what he meant, but you’d make him say it - say it outloud and speak the bullshit into the air.

“About marriage and alliances. Your duty to your country.”

“Oh, so I’m becoming a political pawn now?”

“You were raised for this.” Nikolai gave you a look, as if you’re the one being unreasonable.

“Haven’t I sacrificed enough?” You spit out, your teeth clenched.

Nikolai’s eyes widened, almost imperceptibly, before narrowing. “We do what’s necessary. You know this day is coming.”

Anger rose inside you, filling your chest, creeping up your throat, and flushing your cheeks. Your hand reached for something, anything - a book, a cushion, a rock, something to lob at your brother for saying something absolutely idiotic. Tamar cleared her throat before you could, and your hand shifted back to hover at your side, clenching in a fist.

“The Princess needs some air.” She announced, before crossing the room and placing a gentle hand between your shoulder blades, ushering you to the door and out of the room before you could do something truly stupid, like assault the King of Ravka. Brother or not, Saints can get away with it, you might not be able to.

“Nobody wants to marry a bastard princess.” You turned your head to hell over your shoulder. Tamar let out a long suffering sigh, and pushed more insistently at your back.

“You’d be surprised how much people love a bit of scandal.” Nikolai yelled right back, matching your tone. Tamar let out a groan, shutting the door behind both of you.

You walked through the halls in silence. Tamar hadn’t removed her hand, and you didn’t have it in you to shake it off. The touch was nice. Comforting even. “Are you going to tell me I’m ridiculous?” You demanded, watching her from the corner of her eyes. Her shoulders pushed back, maybe an inch. Being around her so long, you know every single tell. What each movement means. She’s about to say the ‘right,’ thing.

“Nikolai has everyone's best interests in mind.”

“Nikolai has Ravka’s best interests in mind.” That's your brother, always looking at the bigger picture. He doesn’t seem to understand that not everyone wants that life. Not everyone is made for it. He played a role for Ravka, as Sturmhond. “Why can’t I disappear for a few years?” You said absentmindedly, not expecting an answer.

“Ravka’s been through upheaval. It needs all hands on deck.” It, not hers. You’ve noticed her and Tolya don’t claim Ravka. If you were them, you wouldn’t either. You know for a fact they’ve only continued to stay here because of Alina, because of her blessing. Thank the saints for that. Without Tamar’s timely interventions, you may have assaulted several courtiers by now. Your loyalty is to your brother. Not the crown. The rest of the walk to the garden was spent in contemplative silence.

Tamar noticed you were a bit out of sorts. Normally you’d say anything on your mind, almost a stream of consciousness. She loved that about you. The word, even in her mind, almost made her wince. The princess needed some air, but so did she. Listening to Nikolai discuss your future, like you’re a prize mare to be sold off. As your official and unofficial bodyguard for the last few years, and more importantly your friend, she didn’t want this for you. You didn’t want this. Ravka’s best interests. Not yours. But she couldn’t do a damned thing about it. If you tried to run … would Nikolai make you track her down?

“Vlachka for your thoughts?”

“I’m in the mood for snap-dragon.” Why was that the first thing that came to my mind?

“Saints saints saints”, y/n cursed, sucking her fingers in her mouth. She’d never played snatch drakon before. They didn’t have the necessary ingredients on board often, but Tamar had bought them at the last port just for this purpose. For the holiday spirit, of course. Feast of Saint Nikolai, and it happened to be the bastards favorite game, and her and Tolya’s yearly gift to him.

It’s the dead of night, with just the stars and moon to brighten the deck. Spiced brandy fills a bowl, raisins and a bit of salt are tossed in. A match strikes, and the blue flames swirl up, giving everyone a ghost or demon-like face. Curses and laughs as fingers grab for the dried fruit. An easy grin fills Tamar’s face as she meets Y/N’s eyes, the mirth and joy in there warms her heart. Saints, she’d buy these every port visit to put a smile on her face … Tamar blinks heavily, reaching for another raisin. What was that?

Nostalgia, maybe, but winter is still months away.

“Feeling the holiday spirit already?” You asked half-heartedly.

Tamar didn’t answer, pushing the door open for you instead, her eyes scanning the room - taking in stock any exits or possible threats, even though she’d visited this area at least a dozen times. She noticed you doing the same, and doubted the habit will ever die. Useful, certainly, but it speaks to your shared past. That type of paranoia that comes with those experiences.

Being alone with Tamar. Well, it used to be normal to you, but since coming back to Os Alta you’ve always been surrounded by people, by others. It made it easier to ignore any lingering feelings for her. In fact, they were nearly gone. Months ago, Tamar opening a door for you would have given you a few butterflies, put a smile on your face - no matter how often it happened. You suppose it’s part of growing up, moving on from your first crush. But, part of you clings to it, clings to those last dregs of feeling. Maybe because she’s your main link to your past. A past only your brother truly understands, but Tamar knew you during those times. You wonder if she’s noticed any changes, and what they might be.

“How are you adjusting to palace life?” You asked instead, hoping to prompt some kind of conversation. You could always go to Tolya for advice, probably would end up doing so, but it’s a bit easier on your brain if there’s not poetry references shoved your way.

“About as well as you, I suppose.” The same easy grin, but it didn’t reach her eyes, her eyes stayed … sorrowful maybe?

“So shit.”

She snorted. “Maybe a bit better than you.” A slightly too long to be natural pause. “Was that your first time sneaking out?”

“You know the answer to that.” You deadpanned. No, just your first time being caught. A mistake you’ll do your best to remedy.

“Just take me next time.”

“That won’t draw any attention at all.” You drawled. Going out with Tamar is like putting a big sign on your back. “We might as well bring Nikolai.”

“Embarrassed of me, now?” Her tone was teasing, but her shoulders tightened. You might’ve hit a nerve.

“I heard Tamar’s already embarrassed you quite a bit.” Zoya’s voice cut through the air, and the tension.

“Does everyone know?” You groaned, turning to face your other friend. One who’d encouraged you to do something reckless. Your jaw dropped at the smug look. “You ratted me out, you little snake. You’re lucky I can’t light you on fire.”

“Then let's go out tonight, I’ll buy your first drink.”

If Zoya's offering to go out, especially to your kind of place, you know she's in need of some kind of distraction. The curve of your lips overrode the faked indignation. “I suppose that’s reasonable.”

“Fantastic.” Zoya breezed towards you, looping her arm through yours, and dragging you through the doors. ‘Sorry,’ you mouthed to Tamar as you were dragged along.

‘No need,’ She mouthed back, turning to exit through the other door, her steps quick.

As Tamar turns on her heel, walking away as fast as she casually can, she can’t help but think that maybe she shouldn’t have walked away that night. Maybe she did miss her chance. Would it have been worth taking?

#shadow and bone #grishaverse #tamar kir bataar #tamar kir bataar x reader #tamar kir bataar x y/n #tamar kir bataar imagine #zoya nazyalensky #nikolai lanstsov #bodyguard trope #I'm sorry for the ending #pining #wlw #sapphic fic #no beta we die like men

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urdepressedslut · 9 months

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You’re Mine, Sunshine ❝part five❞

♡ Pairing: Grumpy!Bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x Sunshine!Fem!Reader

♡ Summary: Getting to know each other better doesn’t go according to plan. Bucky has to comfort you and fix the mess he made. Will you forgive him?

♡ Warnings: self hate, mentions of parent death/family death, panic attack, heavy angst, fluff, literally sobbing i love them

Part 6

Trope ⇢ Grumpy x Sunshine | Mob!Au Bodyguard!Au

It was almost becoming a mantra, reminding himself daily that he needed to keep things strictly professional. He just didn’t realize how hard it would be. You were so easy to be around, it was a different change of pace with you, he felt he could actually think— slow his mind down around you.

He had tried to digest the thought many times.

I could be her friend, nothing more.

Would it be unprofessional though? He tries to think how Pierce would react to that. He feels completely and utterly confused— the devil and angel on his shoulders battling constantly.

Even then, he was already a bad friend— if that. He was keeping something from you— something extreme. He had caught himself thinking of where you could be in the house— the part of him deep down wanting to tell you. He knew he should, but he knew that’s not what Pierce wanted. If anything, Bucky didn’t want to mess anything up— or he’d never see you again. The thought shouldn’t of scared him as much as it did, but he didn’t like it.

That’s where he found himself in the bathroom of his room, staring into his own eyes through the reflection. He had showered and caught himself trying to find a nice shirt amongst his clothes— immediately he stopped. He had to take a moment to take a deep breath and remind himself how ridiculous he was being.

It had been so long since he actually cared about his appearance. But as he was scanning every line and wrinkle on his face in the mirror— he knew he was doomed. Suddenly he felt insecure, and for once it wasn’t about his arm. His mind was consumed with the thought if he was good enough. While he felt overwhelmed, because he had never worried about such a thing. Well, in awhile at least.

You had kept yourself busy in the library for most of the day, and while you looked to be buried into the books— your thoughts were of him. You couldn’t ignore the giddy feeling that his words gave you— his want to get to know you better. Maybe, just maybe— he wanted to be your friend.

Just as you were about to get up and leave to seek out Bucky, you heard the sound of the library doors opening. A smile worked its way onto your face, excited to see him— though you had just seen him not that long ago.

Heavy footsteps echoed through the space, and soon revealed a handsome looking Bucky. Your mouth hung slightly open, his appearance looking sharper than usual. He was wearing his classic black shirt, and had the black leather jacket over— along with his jeans that hugged him just right in all the areas. He wasn’t dressed all that different, so why did he look so good.

You cleared your throat and broke your stare— yes he looked good. But you shouldn’t stare.

“You look great James, I wish I would’ve put something better on.” You laughed nervously, looking down at your t-shirt and shorts— along with your different colored socks.

Bucky on the other hand, thought you looked fine. He was pretty sure you could wear pretty much anything and look good in it. He also shook off your compliment, thinking you were just being sweet like you always were.

“You look fine, (Y/n).” He assured you.

Truthfully, standing here in front of you now— Bucky wants nothing more than to go back upstairs, choosing to avoid getting to know you better. He wasn’t sure why his walls were coming down so easily, but he hated it. Oh he hated it— he hated you.

“So…” You started, walking back to your seat. Bucky followed after and took his spot from the nights before. “I know this kinda takes the fun out of this but— I had a list of questions.”

Bucky shook his head but chuckled lowly, not surprised at all.

“Of course you do.” He acknowledged, and you scratched the back of your neck nervously.

“Uh— but there are rules! I made them up of course— but there aren’t many.” You rushed out, sitting crisscrossed in your seat.

Bucky exhaled annoyed, but couldn’t really argue otherwise. This was his idea. Was it to distract you from going out? Yes. But a part of him really did want to get to know you better.

“Alright, what’s the rules?” He asked, crossing his leg over the other— leaning back in his seat.

“Okay the first one— you have to answer the question that’s asked, no matter what.” You told him, watching him raise his eyebrows.

“Easy.”

You giggled, remembering how fast the conversation ended last time because he didn’t want to answer. This would be harder than he thought— but you wouldn’t call him out on it.

“Second rule— Can’t ask dumb questions.” You told him, and he chuckled again.

“That’s the second rule?” He chuckled, and you nodded your head.

“Yup.” You confirmed, “Okay— who should go first?”

You were ready to jump right into it, while Bucky was still thinking about your rules— rethinking his decision to do this.

“Why don’t you start doll, since you apparently have a list.” He spoke sarcastically, and you couldn’t stop the heat from rising to your cheeks at the nickname.

He never called you that before, and you didn’t know what to think of it.

“Um… okay yeah,” You thought about your first question, deciding to go easy on him at first, “What’s something you like to do on your free time?”

Bucky squinted his eyes, expecting a more personal question from you. He also had to think for a second— what did he like to do? He used to have hobbies at one time, but he couldn’t recall any in the moment. He felt he was a pretty boring person. There was one thing.

“I like to read sometimes.” He answered, and you smiled at that.

“Really? You don’t seem to spend a lot of time in the library for someone who likes to read.” You joked— knowing he was rather busy with his job as a bodyguard.

“Well, if I had free time— I’d probably be here.” He pointed out, slowly melting into his seat, his muscles relaxing against the couch.

“Okay your turn.” You told him.

Bucky didn’t want to admit it, but he as well had a list of questions for you. Things he was dying to know about you.

“What do you want to do in the future?” He asked, and you looked at him with furrowed brows.

“Huh?”

“What’s your dream job— like, what do you want to do for the rest of your life? Besides read.” He added at the end, making you giggle.

You thought about your answer for a moment, smiling to yourself when you came up with one.

“I’m not sure I’ll ever stay in one spot, there’s so much I want to do. But whatever happens, I wanna volunteer places. I want to help people— help them heal, cope. I just wanna do good.” You explained happily.

Bucky was not surprised by your answer by the slightest— of course you wanted to be helpful. It only made sense with your bubbly personality. He cleared his throat, fighting down a smile.

“Your turn again.”

You nodded and took a second to think of a question again, closing your eyes in thought. An idea popped into your head and you were hesitant about it. Last time you’d brought it up— he left.

“What’s your family like?” You asked anyway, keeping your voice soft in hopes he’d feel more comfortable.

Bucky tensed immediately and just glared at you for a second. His jaw clenched, and his eyes squinted at you. He was annoyed at you pestering him with this question— he’d answer every single one but this one. He’d play dirty if you were.

“My family… isn’t around anymore.” He answered quietly, his anger lacing his words.

His tone had you swallowing nervously, and deep down you regretted asking him. You didn’t mean any harm by the question, and you immediately felt bad. Your heart hurt for him, the way he didn’t have a family.

“I— James I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t o—”

You tried to apologize but got cut off.

“My turn.” He interrupted, sitting up in his seat now. His whole body tense again, his relaxed muscles no more. “Why does your Father hate you?”

He couldn’t stop himself from letting the words out, but as soon as they passed his lips— he was ashamed of himself. His face softened immediately at your face dropping, the way your fingers started to fiddle anxiously with the hem of your shirt.

You were shocked— at a loss for words. You probably deserved his anger, but you weren’t expecting such a harsh question. You felt your chest tighten, and suddenly you weren’t in denial anymore. Everything you’d ever thought— the nights you wondered if your Father really did hate you. You pushed away with a laugh, knowing he could never. But now as someone else witnessed it, and pointed it out. It ought to be true— and you felt sick.

“Um… He’s just having a h-hard time with the passing of my…” You tried to take a deep breath, feeling your throat tighter than usual. “Hard time with my mothers passing is all.”

You repeated from the first day meeting him. Your head pounded— your ears thumping loudly. Your fingers were numb and you felt like you couldn’t swallow.

Were you having an allergic reaction to something?

You tried to take another deep breath and felt your chest stop expanding. Your eyes widened in panic for a second.

Bucky felt so shitty— he couldn’t control himself for a simple question. The fact that you had answered it anyway broke his heart. He watched as your eyes darted around, in search of help. The way he could start to hear your breathing— the way you were beginning to wheeze.

“(Y/n), you ok—”

“Excuse m-me for a s-second.” You rushed out, stumbling out of your chair and towards the library doors.

Bucky was concerned for you, standing up immediately to go follow you. He was so ashamed of himself, angry that he let himself lose control like that. He had sensitive topics that just brought up a defensive side in him. The image of your face as soon as he had said the words was burned into his brain. You didn’t deserve that— you had been nothing be sweet since you two had met.

Making it up the stairs, he started down the hallway— body tensing in alert at the sight of you sitting up against the hallway wall. He rushed forward, kneeling down to your curled up form, scanning over you for injuries.

“(Y/n), what’s wrong? Are you hurt?” He asked frantic, he noticed your hand clutching the area above your heart.

You shook your head, but seemed confused— and only panicked more when you couldn’t get the words out right away.

“I c-can’t breathe!” You wheezed out, your hand not clutching your chest— reaching out to grab onto Bucky.

You held onto him like he was your lifeline.

“I-I think I’m having a-an allergic reaction.” You panted, fisting Bucky’s sleeve in panic.

Bucky didn’t know it was possible for his heart to break anymore— but he swore he heard the cracking sound. He felt it drop to his stomach, his own throat tightening with emotions. You were having a panic attack— and it was because of him. You had no idea, and yet here you were still clinging onto him when he was the cause of it all. He was disgusted with himself.

“(Y/n)— you’re not having an allergic reaction. You’re having a panic attack.” He explained to you clearly, holding onto your shoulders, trying to bring you comfort.

You nodded in understanding, feeling lightheaded from lack of oxygen to the brain. Tears began to escape your eyes, you felt helpless— you felt like you were dying.

“James…” You whimpered, “I’m s-scared!”

Again, he felt his non existent heart break again— falling into his stomach. He felt sick watching this go down, wanting nothing more than for this all to be a nightmare.

He had experience with panic attacks and luckily knew what to do— he just couldn’t get over the fact that he caused it.

He grabbed your hand fisting his sleeve and put it above his heart. You lifted your flushed face, your bloodshot eyes watching your hand. You could feel the strong thump of his heartbeat, the feeling soothing against your palm.

“I want you to try and breathe with me, okay? I want you to match my heartbeat. You feel it?” He asked you softly, his voice gentle like honey.

You nodded your head, trying to focus on slowing your breathing— stop your chaotic mind from spiraling.

“In… and out— In… and out.” He started breathing, and you struggled to match him at first, but as your eyes met with his— you felt your heartbeat start to match his rhythm.

His eyes were comforting and warm. You felt safe in his hold— and you could already start to feel your everything relaxing.

“Good, just keep breathing with me. I’ve got you— you’re gonna be okay.” He assured you, rubbing your shoulders up and down soothingly.

You knew you’d be risking it, but you slowly moved forward— wrapping your arms around his bulky frame.

Bucky tensed up at first, a part of him knowing he should push you away— this wasn’t professional. But he knew he couldn’t— not after what he did. He relaxed, and wrapped his arms hesitantly around your back, hugging you tight against him. He could feel your quick heartbeat thumping competitively against his. He could feel your breath fanning his neck— as you rested your chin in the crook of his neck.

He hadn’t felt such affection in so long— he had missed how much he craved the protection— the security he felt being in someone’s arms.

Now, in Bucky’s hold— you felt at peace. You knew he’d never let anything happen to you. You still trusted him with your life.

“Doll,” You smiled weakly into his neck, “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t of asked you that— I’m an asshole.”

You held onto him tighter— enjoying the embrace while you had it. You were sure it would never happen again.

“It’s okay James, I’m sorry too.” You weakly replied, your body drained of energy. “Thank you, I feel a lot better now.”

He wanted to scoff. You wanted to thank him for helping you out of a mess that he caused. You had the right to scream, punch, kick him. But he knew you’d never do that— and that’s what killed him.

He didn’t know how to respond to your thanks, and stayed silent instead. Holding onto you— never intending to let go until you did first.

“I’m tired James.” You mumbled sleepily.

“I’ve got you doll.” He whispered, easily standing with you in his arms.

He slowly and carefully carried you to your room, setting you down gently onto your bed. He was having déjà vu— memories of when he first carried you to bed that one night.

He lifted the covers, tucking you in. He watched you for a second, examining your face like you were a piece of art. His eyes danced all the way from your chin— passed your lips— to your eyes. Before he could stop himself, he was reaching out to brush a loose strand of hair out of your face. You sighed and leaned into his touch, and this time— he didn’t fight the smile down. He gazed down at you warmly, genuinely smiling for the first time in awhile.

“Stay with me.” You mumbled sleepily, just as you had wanted to that one night.

Bucky took a deep breath, staring down at you with sudden tenderness. He shook his head, ridding his mind of the thought.

“Okay.” He told you, watching you give a small smile in your sleep. Snuggling your face into the pillow.

Although both of you didn’t really get to scratch off every question of each others list— you both felt more connected after today. You just wanted someone, someone constant in your life. Bucky needed more light in his life— like you.

You both needed each other more than you realized.

🤍 taglist is officially closed for this series 🤍

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