Marvel: Reader Inserts

I'm Not That Girl ~ Bucky's Version ~ Part 2 ~ Bucky Barnes x Reader

Dot insisted that you come with her to the train to pick Bucky up. He was returning from the war. The war was over and he was coming home. You were grateful that he survived and was coming home. But your heart ached. He wasn't coming home to you, his supposed best girl. He was coming home to Dot, who he had promised to marry just a few years ago.

Dot had stuck to you like glue in the years Bucky was gone. You had tried to shake her, but she was hard to shake. She came to you about everything, including on the nights when it was hard for her because she missed Bucky so much. You couldn't hate her completely because she had helped you get a well paying job, which was hard for women to find, allowing you to keep living on your own. Dot had tried to be a good friend in other ways, like getting you to go on blind dates with the few men that were left. Nothing worked out, because you wouldn't allow it. Bucky was your one true love, even if he would never love you back.

You kept biting your lip as Dot bounced next to you, actively searching the crowded train station.

"This should be his train!" She exclaimed. "This should be Bucky's train! Do you see him? I can't see him!"

"I'm sure he's just taking his time," you responded. Your eyes began to dart around the station, in search of those eyes you constantly dreamt of.

"There! There he is! Buck!"

Your breath caught as your eyes landed on him— Bucky Barnes, alive and whole. He was in uniform, bag slung over his shoulder as he stepped off the train. He looked older, a little worn, but still so heartbreakingly handsome. His eyes scanned the crowd, and when he spotted Dot, a smile slowly curved onto his lips.

"Bucky!" Dot shouted again, shoving past people to get to him.

Dot launched herself into his arms. Bucky dropped his bag to catch her, spinning her slightly, though his expression didn't light up as much as you thought it would. You stayed where you were, clutching your coat closed against the breeze and the ache in your chest.

When Dot pulled back, she turned and waved for you to join them. "Y/N! Come on!"

Bucky's eyes finally found you, and something shifted in his gaze— warmth, guilt, and something else unreadable.

"Y/N, my best girl," he murmured as you approached. "You came."

"Dot insisted," you replied quietly, forcing a smile.

He flinched slightly at your tone. "It's good to see you."

You nodded, but couldn't respond.

~~~

Later that evening, you found yourself at Dot's townhouse. The house was full of celebration— friends, family, music, and alcohol. You stayed long enough to be polite. Dot kept talking about the future wedding. But Bucky hadn't said a word about it. You found yourself slipping out to the porch, debating on whether you stay or leave. Moments later, the door creaked open behind you.

"I was hoping I'd find you out here," Bucky said gently.

You didn't turn to face him. "Congratulations," you whispered. "On everything."

He sighed. "Y/N, don't—"

"Don't what?" You looked at him finally. "Don't act like everything's fine? Like I'm still your 'best girl'? Because I'm not, Bucky."

He looked like you had slapped him. "Of course you are—"

"No. Don't say that. Don't say I'm your best girl when you didn't write me once. You wrote her. You sent her flowers and pearls and promises. You never even sent me a damn letter."