In which James “Bucky” Barnes writes a letter to y/n, who was murdered in the Infinity War.
Dear my beloved,
y/n,
y/n l/n,
I wanna start by saying this was not my idea. Sam and my therapist thinks it’ll do me good, but this piece of paper won’t help me deal with nightmares like you did, so I find it pointless. My nightmares can still go suck an asshole. My nightmares are pretty bad again, but don’t worry. I miss you.
There’s this new asshat running around trying to be Steve. Oh my God, you’d hate him. I hate him. Sam hates him too. I think you would help us whoop his ass.
You would like Sarah, and her kids would adore you. I remember when we said we were gonna adopt. We could have kids too. Its ok though. Im ok. No im not…
I tried to keep your snap streaks cuz I know how much you hate hated missing your streak things, but I almost died trying to take a picture you would have approved, and Alpine seemed to always be laying on your phone and you know how I am about her, so it slipped my mind most days.
y/n, the truth is: I can’t sleep, I can’t eat, I can’t breathe, I can’t fucking live anymore. With you gone, it’s legitimately like my soul is gone. I love you so much and you just… died. I remember trying to find you among all the other heroes or whatever we call ourselves, and I just remember Steve running towards me and asking: ‘Buck, where is she?’ and I foolishly thought you were with him.
Doll, I love you so much, and honestly, I don’t know how much longer I can deal with everything. I mean, Steve’s gone, Nat’s gone, Tony’s gone, and Loki’s gone too. Thor went with the Guardians, and I cant keep being brave for you because you aren’t here to kiss me awake every Monday, or deal with me being so damn clingy, I-
I love you. So, so much, doll.
Love,
Bucky.
