To Die Alone

To Die Alone

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader (Soulmate!AU)

Word Count: 631

Warnings: a little bit of angst, but it’s fluffy

This idea popped in my head out of the blue and I just had to write it. Not proofread. Hope you like it! :D

Before he went to the war and his life practically ended, just to begin again, Bucky Barnes used to wonder why he didn’t have a soulmate. Though he usually just shrugged off and said that he wasn’t one to settle for one girl when someone would ask about it, the truth was he couldn’t help but think about his situation.

  Was he destined to be alone forever? To die alone? Was it some mistake of the Universe that he was the only one who didn’t have the first words that his soulmate was going to say to him on his right arm like everybody else?

  He got the answers to his wonders when he fell off that train and was captured by HYDRA. Of course I don’t have a soulmate. The Universe knew what was going to happen to me. He came to that conclusion once he was free from HYDRA and could think for himself. At the same time he felt comforted by that thought (that he didn’t let a lover waiting for him in the forties, alone), he felt sad, extremely sad. He was living free again, almost a century later, and he was still the only person without his other half. It is my burden to live alone. To die alone.

_______________________________________________________________

  Bucky now lived with the Avengers, he was a part of them.  That means he often had to sit in a room full of super heroes (and their super egos) for more than one hour discussing missions. He hated that part. That’s why the former Winter Soldier was more than relieved when one more of this meeting ended. Without a word to any of his teammates, he stormed off the room wanting to get to his floor as soon as possible.

  But, life has never been easy for him. The second he turned the hallway, his tall frame collided with one much smaller and fragile. If it weren’t for his enhanced reflexes, the woman who just ran into him (or him into her) would’ve ended up on the floor for sure. Lucky for her, he was able to catch her before that happened.

     - Sorry miss, I wasn’t looking where I was going and… - The words died in his tongue when his eyes found her face. She was beautiful, just like an angel. - Wow.

  Bucky, then, took in her wide eyes and startled face and realized he should be looking like a psycho or something staring at her like that. He took a step back, apologized again and went to go to his room when she stopped him by holding his arm.

  He looked at her face, then her hand on his arm and that was when he saw. She was holding him with her right arm, and on it he could see the words he had just said to this woman, this angel. Bucky’s mind now was a thousand miles per hour. I am her soulmate. But, how? He didn’t have a soulmate. Or did he?

  Once again his eyes went to her face and now she was smiling.

     - I don’t-I don’t understand. I never had anything on my arm. - He managed to say, still doubting this was really happening.

  The woman didn’t speak with him. Instead, she took a little notebook and a pen from the bag she was carrying and wrote something on it. When she was done, she showed him the paper. 

I’m Y/n. Lost my voice some years ago. It’s good finally meeting my soulmate.

  And she was smiling again. Bucky felt his own lips turn upward. The Universe hadn’t wronged him. He wasn’t going to die alone. He had a soulmate. For the first time in his life he felt like he wasn’t empty. He was worthy of love after all.

So, another idea that I had and I just needed to write. Bucky doesn't really shows up, but it's about him, so... I hope you like. While I was writing I remembered a real good Brazilian song (Pra Você Guardei O Amor). English is not my first language and I didn't proofread the text, so you'll probably find some mistakes. It might have a part two, tell me what you think

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Work count: 545

Warnings: none.

How do I Say I Love You?

Y/N's POV

I love you. Three words, eight letters. It shouldn't be this hard to say this to the one person you have been dating for the last four months and, before that, had been you best friend for years, right? Except, it is.

I was never the person to put my feelings into words. Don't get me wrong, I know the importance of communication and I think I do a good job when it comes to that... If we are not talking about sentiments. It just don't come out, I don't know what I'm afraid of, I know that Bucky loves me. I can feel love emanating from him and he've been saying to me everyday since last month, when he said for the first time. The soldier, always the most kind and understanding person in the universe, doesn't look worried for my lack of verbal response, he even said it was alright. But, it is not, and I am aware of that, it's always on my mind.

So, I try to put this endless love that I have for him into every little action, every single thing that I do: a cup of coffee when he comes home tired and yet wants to talk about the day; a massage in his shoulder (that he never asks for, but I always know when he needs one); a hug after a nightmare (or at any other moment of the day when the sight of him is just to much lovable); a sleepy kiss; a hungry kiss; a - I'm still mad that you ate all my cookies, but you're more important - kiss...

The list could go on forever, but still, it's not enough, is it? Who wants to be with someone that can't verbalize their love? What if he gets tired of waiting? What if he goes on a mission and, no! I'm not taking that road. I need to find a way of letting him know, one that involves words, that him will know that I mean.

Oh, I think I know how I'm going to do this and will be with something that we both love: music.

Some time later, and I finally have the playlist created. Doubts and antecipation starts to take place at mind. Am I being silly? Should I wait for him to come home or should I just send it now?

I decide on sending him the link before I give up the courage.

Hey Lover - Daughters of Eve

I've Got A Crush On You - Ella Fitzgerald

Do I Love You? - The Ronettes

My Special Angel - The Vogues

I Love You So - The Chantels

Heart and Soul - The Four Aces

More Today Than Yesterday - The Spiral Starecase

My One And Only Love - Ella Fitzgerald

There! I've Said It Again - Bobby Vinton

P.S. I Love You - Billie Holiday

I really hope he understands it and gets to feel at least a little of all the love I have to give to him, all the love that I kept with me for not knowing how to share, all that love that is inside of me, but in reality is his. Because my mind is his, my body is his and I'm his.

The photos that NASAHubble & NASAWebb took of The Pillars of Creation inspired me deeply. I had to draw what I saw in the formation: A hand reaching into the universe. What an accomplishment for humankind and what a symbol for exploration and knowledge. Credit 2nd image: NASA

Can We Be Alone Together?

So... This is just an idea that I had and thought: why don’t write it then?

English is not my first language, so be aware that it’ll problably have some mistakes. I hope you enjoy, though.

Warnings: none, I think. Just some fluff.

Word count: ~1.3K

Y/n’s POV

    Today is the one of those days. I just woke up and I already know that every little thing that doesn’t go the way I expect is going to end up whit me almost having a breakdown. On days like this, I can’t stand interacting with people, because I’m sure that at some point I’ll snap at them, I will say things that I don’t want to, and it’ll hurt them, and the guilty will hurt me.

   So, today is one of those days when I try my best to be alone and not interact with nobody. First mission: getting coffee and coming back to my room without being noticed. I manage to complete the task easily, since it’s an early Saturday morning and, believe it or not, the Avengers wake up a little later in weekends. I also managed to pick some snacks and bring them to my room, I think it’s enough to even skip lunch.

   Once back in my room, I take some minutes to choose a book, something that stresses me more than it should, and lay in my bed to start reading. Almost an hour later knock knock.

      - S/n? Are you awake?

   Loki, my best friend. I should’ve known he was going to come see me at some point. Actually, I knew, but I thought it would be later and I would have more time to think of an excuse. Apparently, that’s not happening.

      - You know I know you’re awake, you never sleep too much. I just want to know if you are okay, darling. Can I come in?

   How do you say to such a sweet person, a person that you love, that you don’t want to be in their company, because you don’t want to talk to them? You don’t want to be in a conversation that will just stress you. That you don’t want to talk at all? There’s no good way, so I just say it straightly.

      - I’ll be fine. I just want to be alone, Loki.

   Silence. 10 seconds. 15. 30… Is he gone? Is he mad at me? 1 minute has passed and finally:

      - Can I be alone with you?

   This time, he is the one who keeps waiting for an answer for some time.

      - What? – I ask, unsure if I heard his words right.

      - Can I be alone with you? Like… - I can feel he’s hesitating now – Can we be alone together? – Well, it looks like I couldn’t deny that even if I wanted.

      - Okay. The door is unlocked.

      - Give me some minutes, I’ll just take the book I’m currently reading and I’ll be right back, darling. Thank you.

   And he did exactly that. Five minutes later, he was beside me in my bed, just silently reading. When Loki first entered the room, I really thought he would try starting a conversation, but he didn’t and I’m immensely grateful for that. The rest of the day went just like that. The two of us reading alone, but together. Loki looked like he was in peace and I, I certainly was.

…

Little bonus:

The next day, I woke up feeling much better and managed to prepare breakfast for Loki. If I thought the smile he gave me when he entered the kitchen to the coffee and food I had prepared for him was bright, the smile he gave when I just said thank you was like a supernova, the brightest one that could even exist.

Está fazendo um calor desgraçado aqui, mas eu continuo bebendo meu café quente. Percebe?

É que eu queria escrever sobre outra coisa, qualquer outra coisa que não fosse sobre você, do mesmo jeito que você faz, escrevendo sobre seus romances, mas meu romance é com o café e com as palavras e com o desejo de deixar de desejar quem deseja outra xícara que não a da minha casa.

E fico a observar essas pequenas contradições em tudo à minha volta, como quem vive a encontrar pedrinhas nos calçados mesmo depois de batê-los dezenas de vezes, porque o caminho é arenoso e não adianta mesmo. E tem sido impossível -até hoje - não relacioná-las com você.

Deixe-me explicar. Não é que você seja uma pedra no meu sapato, é o fato de eu bater os sapatos muitas vezes para me certificar de que você não voltará a pinicar minha pele e você voltar cada vez maior para dentro deles porque, assim como o caminho arenoso, você está em tudo e eu não consigo ver outra coisa se não tuas marcas na sola dos meus pés fugitivos e, honestamente, cansados.

Apesar de tudo, e com tudo eu quero dizer mesmo tudo, todas as coisas maravilhosas e horríveis que você sempre será - como todos somos feitos de delícias e desprazeres. Com tanta coisa pra ser, você sempre decide não ser nada. Quer dizer, você decide não ser nada para mim - mas sobre mim não é você quem decide nada.

O problema, meu caro Watson, é que você nunca - nunca - deixa nada claro. Eu nunca soube de você. Eu só consigo saber de mim, dessa lucidez e clareza e certeza que me acompanham há anos. E diferentemente do exímio Sherlock, que se ilumina em pistas e mistérios e chega sempre ao cerne da coisa por conta própria, eu nunca soube de você. E ainda hoje, ao te dizer tanto de mim, tantas evidências, você ainda se faz mistério. Ora dando pistas de sua sede, ora dando pistas de que não bebe mais café quente.

Eu não sei ler pistas, caro Watson. Tenho tanta capacidade disto quanto teria uma chaleira de água quente. E o que você não entende, meu caro, caro Watson, é que se você me escrevesse sobre como já não deseja minha cafeína, eu me derramaria feito água quente em coa(dor), mas eventualmente tomaria minha última xícara. Mas se você me escrevesse de sua sede, eu daria a volta ao mundo para saciá-la.

É que é ligeiramente exaustivo amar você na solidão, e mesmo fora dela, o coração ainda tropeça na mesma pedra. Mas eu não paro mais para derramar de meu café se você não me disser "ainda tenho sede de você, volta, fica" ou qualquer outra coisa assim bonita que me quisesse dizer.

M.P.