Various x reader oneshots

(Bucky Barnes) I'm Here

Published: August 13, 2020
Word count: 1061
Prompts: "Baby, hey. Look at me." + "Hey, dry those tears."
Written as an extra entry of @megthemewlingquim's challenge on tumblr!

You craned your neck, trying to catch a glimpse of the ship in the distance, the ship sailing towards the harbor and carrying hundreds of soldiers. Ex-soldiers. The war was over, as the patriotic crowd kept reminding you, and soon the men would be back in the arms of their loved ones.

The chatters of the excited crowd filled your ears, and anticipation bubbled up inside you. Soon, your soldier would be back home, after being at war for nearly 4 years.

The ship pulled into the harbor, sailing at its own slow pace no matter how much you willed it to go faster. A few women pushed past you to get a better look, handkerchiefs in hand.

The huge military ship, a dull gray with nothing more than a name and a number to break the monotony, finally came to a halt. Children jumped up and down, eagerly preparing for the moment they could leap at their fathers.

Soldiers began piling off the vessel, tired but happy faces greeting the crowd. Man after man stumbled down the plank, swept up by their families as soon as they set foot on dry land.

You wove your way through the throngs of ecstatic New Yorkers, wanting to get as close as you could. Would he recognize you? You knew you'd changed, and after four years, would he still be able to pick your face out from the rest?

The flow of soldiers slowed, and suddenly stopped altogether. But where was Bucky? Where was your beloved soldier? You hadn't heard anything about the death of James Barnes, but news tended to travel agonizingly slowly.

The crowd pulled you along toward the center of the town in anticipation of the heroes' parade. You fought them, you fought with all your might to keep the ship within your sights, but to no avail.

"No!" you cried, shoving the man who was holding on to your arm off of you. He gave you a sympathetic look.

"I'm sorry, but there's no one left on board. If there were, they'd have left already. Sorry to say it, but your man isn't coming back."

You glared at him. "No. He's not dead. He can't be."

Clearly at a loss as to what to do, the man just shot you a sad smile before moving on toward the parade. You struggled through them to reach your apartment, the apartment you'd previously shared with Bucky.

Perhaps a small voice deep inside of you hoped you'd just missed each other, and that he'd be waiting for you at home. But alas, upon flinging the door open, you found the place exactly how you'd left it. Nothing had changed, nothing that could indicate the presence of another person.

The door slammed shut behind you as a gust of wind passed through your apartment. You glanced at the source, an open window and you shut it with a bang. Your gaze traveled to a photograph on the wall, one of you with Bucky standing behind you with his arms wrapped around your waist, and that was all it took for you to break down.

You felt both nothing and everything at once. Tears welled up in your eyes, tears you desperately fought to blink back. Having your heart forcefully ripped from your chest would hurt less, that you were absolutely certain of.

Suddenly you hated the rest of the nation, you hated them for rejoicing when you had lost that which was most dear to you.

Bucky stared back at you through the photograph, features still and unmoving. Unmoving like the dead. Sometimes you hated how your mind would toss thoughts like that at you, forcing you to fight harder in order to avoid spiraling into a full emotional breakdown.

The first tear fell, and you angrily wiped it away only to have two more roll down your cheeks. No. No crying, Bucky's alive. He has to be. Well, that didn't stop the tears, but-

"Doll?"

You whirled around, breath catching in your throat as you noticed the man in the doorway.

"Bucky?"

He looked exactly the same as he did the day he left for the war. Perhaps a little more rugged; you noticed the scruff on his chin and he looked tired, but for the rest, he was the same man. Your Bucky.

"Yeah doll, it's me." A soft smile took over his features as you latched onto him with a sob, arms wrapping tightly around him like you never wanted to let go again.

"Baby, hey. Look at me," he whispered, caressing your cheek until you glanced up at him with a watery smile. "That's it, doll. Hey, dry those tears."

You sniffled, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand. He helped you, thumbs brushing away any droplets you missed, touch so gentle he probably believed you were made of glass.

"What's wrong, doll?" he probed, hand rubbing comforting circles up and down your back.

"Nothing," you mumbled. "Nothing, now that you're here."

Somehow he put two and two together, as he seemed to guess exactly what was bothering you.

"Don't worry, sweetheart. I was just a little late, that's all."

"They said there wasn't anyone else on the ship." You didn't even know why you were telling him that, it didn't matter because he was here, he was alive and home. "I wanted to stay, I tried, but they dragged me along to the parade."

"I will always come back to you." He pulled away slightly, bright blue eyes boring into yours. "Always."

"I love you, Bucky." You leaned up to press a kiss to his lips, your first kiss in four years.

"I love you too, doll," he murmured when you finally separated. "Now come on, let's go see the parade!"

You laughed, his boyish grin and good mood contagious as it spread to you. You chased him down the stairs only to find him waiting for you at the foot of the four flights. He leaned over to kiss you again, sweeping you up into his strong arms.

You watched the band belt out all the victory tuned they knew as others waved American flags proudly in the air and a content smile spread across your face.

There were only two things that mattered; the war was over, and Bucky Barnes was finally home.