Imaginary (Bucky Barnes x reader Angsty ending)

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Warning: MAJOR ANGST AND SADNESS AND FEELS, I'm sorry for writing this but the idea popped into my head and now I just can't stop my fingers from typing and ahhhh, I'm sobbing as I'm writing so enjoy. I might actually make this into two parts, one with the angsty ending and the other with a happy ending. The happy ending will have the same age paragraphs(for the most part) but just a different ending. So yeet!

Word count: 4032

I'm not real, I am imaginary, but yet I'm living. I am a figment of someone's imagination, but it was so strong that I was brought to life in a sense. I am the Imaginary friend of Bucky Barnes, his real name is James but he likes to be called Bucky (I gave him the nickname by the way). I've grown up with him, and have been there for him ever since he imagined me. But now he's starting to grow up, and I can feel it, he's starting to forget me and move on past the stage of his life where he needs me. He's all grown up, but still has memories of me stuffed inside his mind, at the very back of his mind, but they're still there, he still has some memories of me, and he still has the very first picture he drew of me, hanging on his wall. My purpose is to be his best friend and to be there for him through everything. But now he's going off to war, to fight for his country, and of course, as his imaginary friend I will follow him along, I think, I'm not sure yet. but that's only if he doesn't forget me, cause I don't really want to leave him, or have him forget me, because I've grown to love bucky, more than I should, but I can't help it. I've remained by his side, my loyalty unwavering, But before I can tell you about now, We have to go back in time to when this all started... and we will go from there.

The beginning...

Bucky's Age: 5 years old

As an Imaginary friend, I don't remember a time before I was Imagined, just like how a person doesn't remember a time before they were born. I was imagined when Bucky was age 5. Five years old, a raging toddler who had the drawing ability of Picasso (more or less). I don't remember this with my own memories, but I remember him drawing me into existence, and thank god he didn't have a super wild imagination, he created me simple like an actual human, he gave me a name (y/n), he drew me some long (h/c) hair that was drawn in two braids on either side of my head, he colored in my skin with a stubby (skin color) crayon, and he colored in my eyes with a (e/c) crayon. He drew me some clothes as well, a red dress with white polka dots. He created this entire personality to accompany my features. I remember when I first appeared outside his house, a bright white light shone before I opened my eyes. I looked around and just knew I had to head inside that house. I smiled and happily skipped towards the house, I opened the door (although no one could see it) and walked inside. I looked at my new surroundings inside the house, picture frames everywhere, of a little boy with black hair and beautiful brown eyes and his mother (I'm assuming). I walked up to the fireplace and Stood on my tiptoes to look at the pictures of the little boy and his mother.

"Hello" I heard a small voice say, causing me to spin around quickly, and fall down. I had scraped my knee, looking at the scrape I sniffled a little, starting to cry a bit. "No, no, its ok don't cry." The young boy said softly running over to me. "You're alright" he said smiling, "It's just a little scratch it's no big deal" the boy added, reaching his hand down to help me up. I cautiously took it and he pulled me up. Standing up with his help I let go of his hand, and straightened out my dress.

"T-thank you" I said timidly, looking down at my shoes

"your welcome" he said "my name is James Buchanan Barnes" He said as I looked up at him. "what's your name?" he asked.

"My name, is uh...." I hesitated for a moment not remembering my name for a second, before it just popped into my head. "Oh um My Name is (Y/N)" I finally answered him.

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