How Come They’ve Got It Figured Out, While We’re Lost, Waiting To Be Found?

pretty woman, this is me trying || B.B Masterlist ||

Summary: Bucky Barnes does not like to be touched. He’s completely ready to live a distant life and give up when the time is right. Until Stark hires him his own personal pretty woman. Over time, Bucky Barnes begins to learn how to touch again. How to feel again. How to love himself again. 

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female SexWorker!Reader 

Trope(s): Holiday Fanfic 🎄 ; Slow-Burn ; Friends to Lovers

Based on the Song(s): sweet nothing by Taylor Swift and Iris by The Goo Goo Dolls

Word Count: 37,000+

This series is completed. Also read on AO3.

Warnings: This fanfiction deals with heavy and rough topics such as: consensual sex work, sexual themes and discussions, panic attacks, detailed sexual content, and past sexual and emotional abuse (caused by Hydra). This work is strictly 18+ only and is purely fanfiction. 

Author’s Note: This holiday series is a lot more serious and heavy than The Warmth of Winter, but it’s what was in my head. I literally wrote it in 3 days. Oops. I hope it’s good.

Weiterlesen

is your comfort character also a sad pretty boy with trauma and questionable morals or are you normal

this is one of my favorite quotes. every time i have self-doubt and feel like giving up, i try and look back on how far i’ve come. once you do a little self assessment, you will be shocked with the progress you’ve made :))

:)

Your writing paints such beautiful pictures.

The ending was truly bittersweet but so fitting.

At first I thought she would simply be revieved but I think the time travel was a way better fit.

Thank you for this amazing story ❤️❤️

Against All Odds | Part III

An arranged marriage with the duke's illegitimate son!bucky.

Navigation: Part I | Part II | Part III (end)

Words: 5k++

Pairing: duke's illegitimate son!bucky x noble!female!reader

Warnings: 18+ contents, no minors allowed, nsfw, gore, blood, violence, short yet emotional smut, p in v, unprotected sex, creampie, overall low intensity angst with a bittersweet ending.

A/N: i want to thank all of you for taking some of your precious time to read my fic, i really appreciate it! this is the last installment of the main series, i hope you enjoy your time.

Read my other works here: Masterlist

Standing at the altar, Bucky’s heart pounded loudly; excitement and sorrow interlaced within his being. The weight of Y/N’s death still haunted him; every time he closed his eyes, those horrifying images conquered his mind.

But today, this very moment, he had been given another chance. The conflict within him was fierce; he was determined to protect her this time, to keep them safe no matter the cost. His mind raced with plans and contingencies, but all his thoughts were interrupted when the church doors opened.

As the crowd rose to their feet, for a moment, everything else ceased to exist. Y/N walked toward him, each step amplifying the intense storm swirling inside him. She was more beautiful than he remembered, more radiant than he ever thought possible. In the past, he had been unfamiliar with the nuances of his emotions, but now, with his heart fully opened, he was consumed by an all-encompassing love.

The urge to rush to her, to pull her into his arms and never let go, was almost unbearable, but he forced himself to remain composed, to hold onto the control he needed.

As she walked down the aisle, he felt like his chest was on fire; it was almost overwhelming. Memories of their past life together flashed before his eyes, a painful reminder of what he had lost and what he was determined to save. 

And as Bucky lifted her veil, he couldn’t focus on anything else; the sight of her, so radiant and beautiful, so close, so real.The delicate fabric framed her face, accentuating the soft curve of her cheeks, the gentle arch of her brows, and the deep, soulful eyes that had captivated him from the moment they met. 

When her eyes met his, he saw something unexpected in their depths; an innocence and trust that made his heart ache. He felt an overwhelming sense of responsibility to protect this woman, not just from the dangers of what lies ahead in their future but also beyond this earth; heaven or hell, it does not matter.

Bucky gently placed a hand on her waist, feeling the warmth of her body through the pristine fabric of her dress. His other hand cupped her cheek, the touch both tender and deliberate. The sight of her up close, the feel of her under his touch, was both too much and not enough. 

He leaned in and his heart raced vigorously in the trepidation of the chance that he might lose her again. But when his lips met hers, he was completely engulfed by immense euphoria. The happiness of being able to hold her again, to share this moment of tenderness, was so much stronger than the anxiety that hounded his mind. As he pulled away, he saw her blinking slowly, her cheeks flushed and her eyes filled with confusion and awe.  

To be able to see such a sight again was a blessing; Bucky thought he had lost it forever. His chest seemingly expanded to accommodate the hope and determination filling the space within his ribcage. To ensure that this time, things would be different. He had longed for this moment, to have her in his arms again, and now that it was real, it was even more profound than he had imagined.

“I’m sorry if I startled you,” he said softly, his voice carrying the depth of his emotions. “I hope I didn’t scare you, my dear.” The reassurance in his tone was genuine, a reflection of his own relief and longing.

“I—no, you didn’t scare me,” she managed to say; her voice barely more than a whisper. His eyes softened as he adored the tint of pink on her cheeks, “Good,” he added, his gaze tender and full of warmth. “I’m glad to hear that.”

Bucky’s nightmare was a relentless torture decorated with anguish and despair. And it was always the same series of events. Him riding through the frozen landscape, the biting cold of the snow searing through his worn leather boots. The icy wind howled around him, matching the torment that gripped his heart. The landscape blurred as he navigated the bloodied halls of their home, a once serene space now stained by violence and death.

Him, stumbling into their shared bedroom, his heart pounding in his chest as he saw her; Y/N’s body, brutally maimed and lifeless. The sight of his child, still and cold, was a dagger to his soul. The room was a horrifying tableau of shattered dreams and crushed hopes. His cries of despair echoed in the empty corridors of his mind, the reality of the scene blending with his deepest fears.

His body jerked violently as he jolted awake, the sudden shift from the nightmare to the waking world leaving him disoriented and breathless. The line between a mere dream and reality was blurred, the remnants of his terror clinging to him like a shroud.

He fumbled through the darkness, his mind racing as he struggled to grasp where he was. The echoes of his terror still haunted him, a grim reminder of the fragility of their happiness.

“Bucky?” Her voice, soft and uncertain, cut through his haze of panic. He blinked rapidly, struggling to focus.

“Y/N?” His voice was a whisper, fragile and filled with a tormented confusion. Seeing her was almost like a divine intervention, a moment of disbelief at her presence. He stared at her, trying to reconcile the vibrant, alive woman before him with the haunting vision he had just escaped.

Her presence was a stark contrast to the lifeless image burned into his mind. Seeing her breathing, speaking back to him, felt like a dream that will never come true.

Not wasting any time dwelling, his body surged forward, enveloping her in a gripping yet desperate embrace. “Y/N…” he murmured, his voice trembling with the raw intensity of his emotions. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, his grief and dread pouring out in the hidden agony.

The truth of his nightmare and the burden of his misery weighed heavily on him, almost impossible to bear; at least not alone. The words he wanted to speak were trapped within him, their pressure making it hard to breathe, let alone articulate his pain.

Bucky took refuge in his wife’s arm, focusing on the feeling of her hands moving soothingly up and down his back. “I’m here,” she whispered softly. “I’m here, Bucky.” Her presence was grounding; holding him tight in a reality that felt too fragile to trust.

The night was still and intimate, and Bucky’s need for her overwhelmed him. Their connection deepened as he made love to her, each touch, each kiss a frenzied affirmation of the life they still shared; a way to anchor himself to the truth of their love amidst the chaos of his dreams.

In the opulent chamber, Bucky stood like a silent sentinel, his form partially obscured by the shadows cast from the full moon behind him. The eerie silhouette of his shadow filtering through the large, arched window. The room was a luxurious display of wealth and power, adorned with velvet drapes and golden accents.

Despite the grandeur, the atmosphere was chilling, accentuated by the presence of Bucky in his Winter Soldier attire: a black mask, heavy boots, and a sleek, tactical uniform that made him appear as if he were more machine than man.

He moved with the ghostly grace of a predator, each step intentional and calculated as he approached the enormous bed at the centre of the room. The Emperor lay sprawled beneath an elaborate canopy, his slumber seemingly undisturbed by the chaos outside his lavish walls. It was almost laughable to Bucky that such a cruel ruler, whose hands were stained with countless deaths, could rest so easily, untouched by the spectres of guilt that should have plagued him.

Bucky’s gaze was unfeeling as he surveyed the sleeping figure. The Emperor's peaceful expression was a dichotomy to the turmoil that simmered beneath Bucky’s cold exterior. His presence, unmoving and imposing, made the room feel colder, his eyes devoid of warmth or emotion.With the steely void in his mind, his purpose clear as he stalked closer, each step making the heavy boots sound like distant thunder.

The Emperor stirred, his eyes fluttering open to the sight of Bucky standing at the foot of the bed. For a moment, there was confusion in the Emperor’s eyes, quickly replaced by a smirk. "I don't remember calling for you, soldier," he said, his tone half-joking, half-curious.

This was not the first visit at such ungodly hours for Bucky. Often the Emperor would call upon him to send him out on clandestine missions or covert operations.

Bucky’s unresponsive silence made the Emperor uneasy, a subtle crack in his facade of control. As Bucky’s form loomed closer, his eyes glinted with an icy determination that cut through the darkness like a blade. The realisation of the danger crept into his expression as Bucky reached the side of the bed.

Before the Emperor managed to call out for help, Bucky’s metal hand shot out, encircling the Emperor's throat with a grip of iron. His eyes widened in shock, "What is the meaning of this?" he croaked, his voice strained as he struggled against the unyielding grip.

Bucky’s voice was a low, menacing growl. "Why did you kill them?" he demanded. The Emperor’s face twisted into a mask of genuine confusion. “I don’t understand. What are you talking about?” he said, his voice strained with bewilderment.

Eyes burning with an intensity that spoke of old wounds and unending fury, Bucky was in a trance-like state. His mind focused on the Emperor as the embodiment of the callousness that had devastated his life. To him, it mattered so little whether this version of the Emperor had committed the heinous acts or not. The knowledge that past him had once inflicted such horrors was enough to ignite Bucky’s rage.

“My wife,” Bucky growled, his voice cutting through the Emperor’s confusion with chilling clarity. The Emperor’s eyes widened further, a flicker of fear beginning to replace his initial disbelief. “Why did you kill her?,” Bucky continued, his tone carrying the heaviness of an unspoken pain.

The Emperor’s expression remained in a genuine concern, though it did little to mask his growing foreboding. “I never ordered anyone to lay hands on her,” he insisted, his voice cracking with a hint of desperation. “I would have remembered something like that.”

Bucky’s gaze remained unwavering, his anger as fiery as ever. The Emperor’s words, though spoken with a semblance of sincerity, only fueled Bucky’s fury. It wasn’t merely about this specific Emperor’s actions; it didn’t even matter if he had not done the deed yet.

It was about the realisation that such brutality happened once before. Much more atrocious to know that it had been sanctioned by someone in a position of power. The sense of betrayal ran deep, rooted in the knowledge that the cruelty was a part of a larger, systemic evil that had haunted Bucky’s past.

As the Emperor tried to reason with him, his terror and desperation were transparent. "I would never harm your wife," he protested weakly, his voice trembling with an echo of dismay. Bucky’s mind flashed with ghastly memories; the cold snow he rode through, the bloodied halls leading to their shared bedroom, the image of Y/N’s body maimed, his child lifeless. The horrific images fueled his rage.

"Oh, but you will." Bucky hissed, his anger boiling beneath the surface. His free hand drew a blade, the steel glinting with deadly intent. The Emperor's eyes were wide with horror; his pleas of defence were simply a string of meaningless words lost in the wind as Bucky’s resolve hardened.

With a swift, adept motion, the blade struck through the man’s throat. The Emperor gurgled; blood bubbling from the wound as his eyes widened in shock. Bucky’s face remained impassive, his cold eyes reflecting no mercy. He plunged the blade deeper, the Emperor’s feeble attempts to grasp Bucky’s arm proving futile. 

Unfortunately for him, the first strike was not enough to quench the rage that burned within Bucky. He pulled the blade out and struck again. Again and again, the knife met its target, each jab driven by the anguish of countless painful memories. The bed beneath them soaked with the colour of crimson, the luxurious chamber now marred by the blood of its cruel occupant. The room filled with the grotesque sound of a life being extinguished, a gruesome symphony that echoed Bucky’s inner anarchy.

Bucky stood over the fallen ruler, his breath coming in harsh, ragged gasps. As the adrenaline faded, Bucky’s vision suddenly began to blur, the edges of the room dimming into darkness. The world seemed to contract into a tunnel of darkness until a voice cut through the haze. “You really have to be that… brutal?” The voice was calm, yet filled with an air of reproach.

With his sight suddenly altered, Bucky turned towards the sound; the silhouette was unclear in his clouded vision, however he recognized the voice. “Steve,” he called out, his voice a low rasp.

Steve, the crown prince, stood in the doorway, his expression was weaving traces of concern and resignation. He took a step forward, the dim light catching the determination etched in his features. Tomorrow, he would be the new emperor, a role thrust upon him by necessity and circumstance.

Although Steve was one of the emperor’s blood; his only living male heir. His mother was not the empress but one of the many wives the emperor had taken. In the emperor's eyes, this made Steve unworthy of the crown, despite his lineage. This disdain had placed Steve in a precarious position, viewed as a threat rather than a successor.

In the past, Bucky and Wanda had seen Steve meet a tragic end, assassinated by the devout followers of the Emperor who refused to relinquish power. This time, Bucky and Wanda had approached Steve with a plan to overthrow the throne.

While withholding the truth of their origins, they convinced him to claim the crown for his own, knowing the kingdom already favoured him. The real challenge lay with the noble families, whose support was crucial. Over the past few months, Steve had skillfully manoeuvred through the intricate web of politics, winning their allegiance.

Meanwhile, Wanda had been executing a 'clean-up' operation at the magic tower, ensuring no loyalists of the emperor remained. By the time Bucky entered the emperor’s chambers, all potential threats had been neutralised. Soon, the kingdom would surely hear news of the youngest female master of the tower reigning in power.

“Hey, Buck. You okay?” he asked, his voice gentle but firm. Steve noticed the way Bucky’s eyes seemed to glaze over, staring into nothingness. Concern etched into his features, he took a step closer. Bucky blinked a couple of times, trying to clear his vision, but the blurriness persisted, leaving him disoriented.

As Bucky’s vision began to clear, he saw Steve’s concerned blue eyes staring back at him. “Yeah, just…” Bucky shoved his hand into his pocket, retrieving the teleportation stone given to him by Wanda prior to the mission. His gaze fixed on the shimmering stone, the weight of his debt to the ancient magic pressed heavily on his mind; knowing the time to pay for it was drawing near. “…just missing my wife.”

Steve watched, a silent understanding passing between them. Bucky crushed the stone in his hand, the stone's magic activated with a flash of deep red light, enveloping Bucky in its embrace, swallowing him into the abyss and back to his home, to Y/N.

Moments later, the warmth and chaos of the Emperor’s chambers vanished as the cold night air hit him as Bucky found himself on the balcony of his home. Through the transparent glass, he could see his room bathed in a faint light. Inside, Y/N was reading by the soft glow of a night lamp. The sudden swoosh of Bucky’s arrival drew her attention, and she lifted her gaze from the book to the source of the sound. Her eyes widened as she saw the dark silhouette standing on the balcony.

"Hello?" she called out softly, her voice quivering with fear. She set her book aside and stood up, her silk nightdress flowing around her like a whisper of moonlight. She walked to the balcony door, the rhythm of her heart quickened as anxiety creeped in. 

As the door opened, the cold wind tickled a shivering goosebumps on her skin. She looked up at the man, her eyes widening in surprise and anxiousness. Bucky, on the other hand, remained still; his mask and dark attire made him look as if he were a ghost from her nightmares. His eyes, however, were unmistakable. The familiar blue gaze met hers, and she recognized him instantly.

Y/N’s initial fear melted away as she stepped closer towards him, "Why are you out here in the cold, love?" she asked gently, standing only inches from his foreboding self. The distinction between them was hardly difficult to spot: her soft, fragile appearance in her silk nightdress against his imposing, almost monstrous form in his combat gear.

Bucky stayed silent, his eyes trained on her as if trying to memorise every feature, every delicate line of her face. She reached up, her fingers slightly trembling to the cold, gently removing his mask. The emotionless facade that he put up crumbled almost instantly, his eyes softened as she smiled up to him. Her hand reached up to cup his cheek, feeling the roughness of his stubble, "Come inside," she urged softly. "You're freezing."

He didn’t argue as he allowed himself to be led into the warmth of their room. Y/N’s hands moved with gentle resolution. As they reached the side of their bed, she began undressing him from his harsh, restrictive attire down to his shorts and sat him on the mattress behind him. She traced the scars on his body, each one a testament to the battles he had fought, and her fingers made their way up to his stubbled jaw, cupping his cheek tenderly.

"Bucky… you look so troubled." She noticed. "What's wrong, my love?" her voice filled with concern. She came to his side, sitting close as she spoke softly, “Tell me,” her eyes searched within his, “...please?” 

Bucky took a deep breath, his heart heavy with the burden of the truth he was about to reveal. "Y/N," he began, his voice slow, as if he was afraid, "This... this isn't our first time living through this. Our marriage, our life together, it was supposed to be different.”

Everything that had been haunting him for the past months spilled out for Y/N to consume. He spoke of the first time he stood at the altar, the way he was clumsy and rough the first time he touched her, their awkward moments, and the ups and downs that became the foundation of their budding romance.

He told her about her pregnancy, the joy he felt from it, how she glowed with happiness, and the dreams they had for their child. He recounted his request for retirement, wanting to leave his life as a weapon behind to be with his family, to protect and cherish them.

But then he spoke of the horror that shattered his world. How he found her dead with their child, both victims of the Emperor’s cruelty. He described the devastation, the unbearable pain, and the crushing sense of failure. He had lost them both, and his heart had been torn apart. "I lost you once before. You and our child," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

Bucky continued, his words pouring out in a rush. He spoke of Wanda, how she had given him a chance to come back, to change things, to save her, to save them. He told her about the sacrifices, the battles fought in the shadows, and the relentless drive to protect her and their unborn child. He described the nightmares that haunted him, the fear of failing again, and the desperate hope that this time, things would be different.

Yet, as he bared his entire soul to her, Bucky kept one critical detail shrouded in silence. He did not mention the true cost of altering time, the personal price he had to pay for this chance at redemption. The burden of that price, the debt to ancient magic that had exacted a toll on him, remained untold, a hidden weight that he bore alone. At least for now.

Y/N was silent, her mind racing to comprehend the enormity of his confession. It sounded impossible, yet there was a sincerity in Bucky's voice, a pain that was all too real. She thought back to the subtle hints in his behaviour, the way he seemed to know her so intimately, as if he had known her for a lifetime. She remembered the moments when he would finish her sentences, anticipate her needs before she even voiced them, and the way he looked at her with such profound love and fear, as if he was afraid she would disappear.

Tears welled up in Bucky’s eyes as he reached for her hand, holding it tightly. “It’s true, Y/N. Every word. I’ve lived through this nightmare, and I couldn’t bear to lose you again.” However, Y/N’s silence scared him. He felt his heart pounding in his chest, terrified that she would reject his story, reject him. Bucky's tears fell freely now, landing on her skin like tiny droplets of despair. "Say something, please," he begged, his voice choking with emotion.

Y/N’s mind and heart were in turmoil, but something deep within her, something in her soul, told her to put her faith in him. Just like that, she believed him. Her heart ached at the thought of the pain he must have endured. She cupped his face in her hands, her eyes searching in his ocean blues. “I’m so sorry for leaving you so soon, love,” she said softly, not knowing why her voice broke..

Bucky’s reaction was immediate. His eyes widened with relief, his tears flowing even more; raw and unfiltered. He pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly as if afraid she would vanish. “Y/N” he whispered against her hair, his voice was a sound of agony and respite. 

Y/N’s own tears fell as she held him close. She didn’t fully understand the mechanics of time or the magic that had brought him back, but she knew one thing: she loved this man with all her heart, and she would do anything to ease his pain. 

“Thank you for saving me.” she echoed, her voice soft but firm.

Their tears of sorrow began to shift into a more tender, fervent connection as their need for each other deepened. Bucky’s lips found Y/N’s in a searing, passionate kiss. Their tears mingled and cascaded down their cheeks as they lost themselves in the embrace. Each touch, each kiss, was imbued with an urgency to reaffirm their bond and erase the pain that had haunted him.

Every piece of clothes were thrown aside; discarded in their frantic desire to be closer. Bucky’s touch grew more intimate; hands moved to pin Y/N's hands above her head, pressing her wrists gently but firmly into the bed. His eyes, dark with desire and love, bore into hers.

“Let me see you, my dear. Please, let me see all of you,” Bucky whispered, his voice trembling with emotion as he removed his hands from her wrists, roaming over Y/N’s body. His touch is a mix of reverence and desperation. He explored the curve of her waist, the gentle slope of her hips, and the soft, supple skin that felt like a lifeline to him. 

He trailed his lips down Y/N’s neck, savouring the softness of her skin, leaving a trail of heated kisses. His breath warmed her as he explored her collarbone, the hollow of her throat, and lower, where his lips brushed against the delicate curve of her breasts. Each kiss was a worshipful caress, a testament to his adoration and need for her.

A simple nudge of his hips and Bucky sinks in, breathes caught in the air when he starts to move; “You feel so good, so tight around me.” His thrusts were slow, sensual yet deliciously deep. “I love you so much,” his declaration spread warmth all over heart, filling up every space possible; much like his huge, throbbing cock to her cunt. So full, so good. While he rocked his hips, Bucky’s lips trailed delicately on her cheek, “My dearest” he murmured watching the tears fall from the corner of her eyes, “My everything”. 

Y/N, feeling the intensity of his love and the raw need in his embrace, responded with equal fervour. Her hands ardently moved over his broad shoulders and down his back, feeling the contours of his muscles tense and relax under her touch. She could sense the urgency in his movements, the way he clung to her as if she were his salvation.

Bucky’s calloused fingers slipped downwards, reaching to where their bodies were most connected. He found a grounding pleasure as he swirled soft circles on her sensitive clit; rubbing it the way he knew she loved. Y/N leaned into his touch, her body responding to his every movement. Her breaths came in short, heated whimpers as Bucky’s hands continued their exploration, his fingers grazing over her sensitive skin with a mix of tenderness and hunger.

Creating a slight distance between them, Bucky leaned back and revelled in the sight of her; what a view she was.

Her hair was messy in the most beautiful way, cascading around her face like a halo. Her hands gripped the sheets behind her, knuckles white, grounding herself in the intensity of the moment. Her body arched gracefully, a perfect curve that pushed her hips toward his in a silent plea for more. His fingers; now wet with her slick, continued to rub tight circles on the sensitive bundle of nerves.

“There she is. So pretty for me, so fucking gorgeous,” Bucky murmured lowly, his voice filled with desire and awe.

“Bucky, please,” she whispered, her voice a plea, her legs around his waist tugging him closer.

Bucky found her shy desperation was seductive yet so innocently pure. “God, how am I so fucking lucky?” Bucky’s breath shuddered as he felt the way her pussy clenched in protest of his delay; his voice heavy with emotion as he moved against her, his eyes locked onto hers. The raw need in her voice, the way her body responded to his touch, made his heart swell with unrestrained desire.

The metal of his left hand found their way to her hips, guiding her with a gentle yet insistent touch as his fleshed finger worked on her clit. Despite the hard and hasten pace of his thrusts, their movements were synchronised, each grind was a need to chase that height of ecstasy. 

The room was filled with their whispered breaths, their shared moans of pleasure, and the undeniable proof of their love. Their connection transcended the physical, reaching into the depths of their souls, reaffirming the bond that had defied time and fate. 

“I love you so much, Y/N,” Bucky whispered, his voice raw and filled with affection as he held her close, their hearts beating in perfect harmony.

“I love you, too, Bucky.” she replied, her voice trembling with the intensity of her feelings.

As they reached the peak of their high, their cries of passion were mingled with their whispered promises of devotion. Every touch was a declaration, every kiss a vow to never be separated again, and every warmth filling inside her was a possible gift of a future they looked forward to.

Afterward, they lay entwined, their breaths slowly returning to normal, the room filled with a quiet sense of contentment and amour. Compared to prior, this time, their touch was gentle, almost innocent compared to the fervent passion earlier. They held each other, caressing skin, savouring the quiet moments of closeness. Bucky felt at ease, a sense of peace washing over him that he hadn’t felt in what seemed like lifetimes.

Bucky’s perspective was filled with the sight of Y/N. He drank in every detail, from the curve of her lips to the softness of her cheeks, to the way her eyes sparkled even in the dim light. Her skin was a beautiful contrast to his own, delicate and smooth; pure and untainted. He traced his fingers lightly over her features, committing them to memory with a sense of awe and gratitude.

She yawned as fatigue creeped in, snuggling closer, tighter. Bucky brushed a stray lock of hair from her face. “You should sleep, sweetheart.” he whispered softly. Y/N smiled, her eyes already half-closed. “See you in the morning?” she murmured, her voice laced with drowsiness.

At that moment, Bucky’s vision began to blur again; worse than before. He blinked rapidly, trying to clear it, but the edges of his sight remained dark and unfocused. He felt a pang of fear but pushed it aside. The time had come, he realised. He kissed her forehead gently, revelling in the feel of her skin against his lips. “See you in the morning, my dear,” he replied, his voice steady despite the growing darkness in his vision.

He smiled down at her as she snuggled, his heart filled with joy and serenity. Bucky held onto her tightly, cherishing the moment, knowing that no matter what happened, their love had conquered time itself. He marvelled at the fact that against all odds, he had saved the woman he loved, and nothing could take that triumph away from him. In the end, even with his eyes still wide open, he let the encroaching blackness take over, surrendering to the inevitable with a heart full of love and a soul finally at peace.

End.

Read my other works here: Masterlist

A/N: we have reached the end of the journey, i am sorry if you feel like the story is a bit rushed; i am not capable to commit more than 3 chapters, otherwise this will ended up being in a hiatus. i, however, can consider writing oneshots for this au somewhere in the future. meanwhile, leaving your comments behind would definitely make me happy!

𝙱𝙰𝙳 𝚁𝙴𝙿𝚄𝚃𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽

ᴍᴀɪɴ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

A bad break-up pushes you to move to a small town in California where you meet Natasha who offers you a job. You work alongside the men from the 107th motorcycle clubs who all welcome you with open arms. Amongst them there's a certain brunette who everyone warns you to stay away from, but as you’ll soon find out; it’s a lot harder to do than it seems.

STATUTS: Completed.

GENRE: Biker!Au. Angst and fluff.

WARNINGS: All warnings are identified on every chapter.

» ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴏɴᴇ: ɴɪɢʜᴛꜰᴀʟʟ, ᴄᴀ 8.9k

You move to Nightfall to start over and that's where you meet Natasha. A young woman who will help you heal and she introduces you to her coworkers: the 107th motorcycle club.

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An unexpected phone call forces you to revisit some painful memories, bringing you and Bucky closer together.

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Bucky doesn’t want to let you go, but it doesn’t seem like you want to either.

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A heatwave hits Nightfall and Bucky's obvious attraction to you creates friction with his best friend.

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Bucky gets into a fight with Steve and you meet a new kind of trouble on your way home.

» CHAPTER SIX: SURPRISE 6.2k

Jace shows up at the garage and leaves a mark.

» CHAPTER SEVEN: BREATHLESS 5k

Bucky has locked himself up in the diner’s bathroom but it might not all be as it seems.

» CHAPTER EIGHT: BRUISES 4.7k

Bucky finds your bruises and sees red while a certain police officer realizes that you are more than just Bucky’s latest conquest.

» CHAPTER NINE: AWAY 6.2k

You spend the weekend with Bucky and some things are said that can never be unsaid.

» CHAPTER TEN: CONFESSIONS 5.9k

You experience a lot of firsts with Bucky during your weekend away and Brock puts his plan into motion.

» CHAPTER ELEVEN: PROBLEMS 6.3k

Bucky and Steve need to come up with a way to keep you safe while figuring out how to handle Brock’s recklessness.

» CHAPTER TWELVE: ALLIES 4.9k

Bucky and Steve confront Brock and alliances are formed.

» CHAPTER THIRTEEN: UNINVITED GUESTS 4.8k

Tension is at an all time high following Brock's threats, the whole club is on high alert.

» CHAPTER FOURTEEN: CAUGHT 6.5k

The club goes into full lockdown and Nat confronts Bucky about what she saw the previous night.

» CHAPTER FIFTEEN: CONTROL 7.7k

Brock goes against the club determined to be the only one walking out alive.

» CHAPTER SIXTEEN: AFTERMATH 4.1k

You help Bucky to deal with the aftermath of the fight with Brock and he reveals to you the involvement of Jace in Brock's plan. You have a difficult choice to make.

» CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: FORWARD/BACKWARD 6.2k

With Jace out of your life, you feel ready to move forward in your relationship with Bucky, but he might not be feeling the same.

» CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: UNCHARTED TERRITORY 5.6k

You go back home for the weekend.

» CHAPTER NINETEEN: HIS QUEEN 8.8k

Every story has to end but will you and Bucky get your happily ever after?

» DRABBLE: PRINCESS 0.79k

You get the fairytale ending you've been dreaming of.

Honey Girl. Chapter Two.

Chapter One. Series Masterlist. The Playlist.

Pairing - Dad's Best Friend!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader - soulmate au

Chapter Synopsis - You and Bucky try to navigate what it means to be soulmates - and how difficult it is to keep your hands off each other.

Warnings - smut. cursing.

Word Count - 4k

Author's Note - part two!! thank you SO much for all of the love on part one - it has made me immensely happy. you're all the sweetest and i'm so grateful. i'm going on vacation in a few days, so i'm taking a hiatus for a few weeks as i won't have cell service. so, consider this my parting gift to you <3

as always, reblogs, comments and feedback (even anonymous feedback!) are immensely appreciated!! your reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics, which keeps me going <3 please, send me your thoughts, predictions, desires!! I will get excited with you!!

Masterlist. Inbox.

Sunlight streams through the billowing white curtains, rousing you slowly. The gentle breeze cools the room, salt sticking to the air. Warmth is seeping into the glass of the windows, encouraging you to kick your sheets to the foot of your bed, limbs stretching and rolling.

You wake, and for a moment, you feel perfectly at peace. You feel light, tranquil, relaxed. You flex your neck from side to side, yawning as you do it. You notice that the sun is already up, beaming into your bedroom. It's going to be a very warm day, you think. I better pack sunblock.

You glance to where your bag is thrown haphazardly on the floor, contents spilling everywhere. It's unlike you, to not put something away properly. You take pride in being a tidy person. You must have been exhausted when you got home last night.

That's when it hits you.

Bucky.

The events of yesterday coming crashing down around you like a tidal wave. Hearts racing, hands interlacing, lips melding. Bodies tangling, breaths matching, knees buckling. Two souls, tied together forever.

Your Tethering.

To Bucky. Your Dad's best friend Bucky.

His absence is suddenly all you can think about. He's not here, and you feel like half of your heart is missing. You ache. There's a discomfort that you know can only be cured by the presence of your soulmate.

You're deep in thought when your phone rings, startling you. It's Bucky.

"Mornin' sugar," he drawls. The low tone of his voice is like molten honey, gorgeous and golden.

"Good morning, Buck."

You hear him exhale at the sound of your voice.

"I know we said we'd meet at ten, but can we make it earlier?" he asks. Then, quieter, "Feel like I can't breathe without you."

He murmurs the last part, as if it's a secret. Something sacred.

"Of course, Buck. I can be ready by nine?"

"Thanks, sweet girl. I'll pick you up?"

"Perfect. See you then."

"See you then."

It's almost painful to hang up the phone. It's like there's a gravitational force in The Universe, willing you against it. You ignore it defiantly and press the red button, swinging your legs over the side of the bed.

There's something in your gut telling you that this might just be the first day of the rest of your life. You certainly can't go back to the way things were. You're not sure if you want to.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

Bucky arrives at 8:45.

You're in the bathroom with the door closed, so you don't hear him pull up. You feel it. Like a magnetism, alerting you to his whereabouts. You breathe a little easier immediately, knowing he's outside.

You grab your bag and the picnic and pull on your shoes, eager to see him. You feel like a teenager again, giddy with anticipation. Apart from, this isn't your average first date. No, this is your last first date ever. This is a first date with the man you're bound to spend the rest of your life with. No pressure, you tell yourself. One step at a time.

Your heart kicks up in double time, thundering against your ribcage. You inhale deeply, cracking your knuckles. You can do this. It's just Bucky.

You bound down your stairs, practically running to his truck. Bucky's leaning against the passenger door, the wind ruffling his hair, sunlight reflecting off his steely blue eyes. He's wearing shorts and a white button up, which is blowing gently in the breeze. His sleeves are pushed up his forearms, exposing his gorgeous tanned skin. He has several shirt buttons undone, accentuating his broad chest, sunglasses tucked into the breast pocket. He looks so handsome. So classically elegant. Like he belongs in an old movie - a perfect leading man.

He eyes you carefully, gauging your reaction. You can tell he doesn't want to overstep, worried about pushing you too far too fast. You walk over and run your fingers across his exposed chest gently, tracing a path up his neck until you're caressing his cheek. His stubble tickles your fingertips, causing a smile to curl at the corners of your mouth. You finally meet his gaze, and all your stress is forgotten. You feel peaceful again.

"Hi," you whisper.

"Hi, pretty girl," he murmurs back, hands finding your waist. "You alright?"

"I'm okay. Are you okay?"

"I'm okay," he grins. "So, how do you feel about a day of sailing? You, me, and the ocean, baby."

"I think that sounds perfect."

He opens the car door for you, helping you up and into the passenger seat. He climbs in, clicking on his seat belt and starting the engine. Before he pulls away, he turns and looks at you, holding your stare for a moment. Bucky reaches for you, lacing your fingers together, resting your intertwined hands on your thigh. He begins to drive away, taking you towards the ocean. Towards your future.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

You know nothing about sailing.

Luckily, you don't need to. Bucky's quite content to keep you sitting pretty on the top deck while he does all of the work, pulling and tying and knotting. The crisp white sails billow in the wind, the ocean waves providing a steady, constant soundtrack. Birds fly overhead, sunshine beaming down, the wood underneath you warm and smooth. It's paradise.

You're soaking up the sun rays when you hear a click. You sit up to see Bucky holding his film camera, pointed right at you.

"Creep," you tease.

"Just want to have something to look back on. Our first day as soulmates. It's an occasion, you know," he grins.

He moves across the boat to sit next to you, thigh pressed up against yours. He's so close you can taste the spearmint on his breath. You tangle a hand in his hair, caressing the back of his head.

"I brought you a few new things to try," you tell him. "Some recipes I'm testing. I want your honest opinion. No sugar coating. Promise?"

"I promise," he winks, holding up a scouts honour. "I wouldn't lie to you, honey."

You reach over and grab your picnic basket, unwrapping various beeswax packages and laying them out in front of you.

"Okay - we have white chocolate and pistachio muffins, raspberry and lemon macarons, earl grey and lavender cookies and carrot and cinnamon cake."

You glance over at Bucky, expecting him to be deciding what to try first. Instead, you find him watching you carefully, gentle smile etched across his face.

"What?" you laugh.

"Nothing," he beams. "I just... I love it when you start talking about food. You're passionate. You light up."

"Don't make it weird," you joke, slightly taken aback by his honesty. He did promise not to sugar coat.

He reaches for a macaron, eager to try one after you mentioned them yesterday. He pops one in his mouth, and lets out a groan that can only be described as pornographic.

"Fuck," he moans. "This might be the best thing I've ever eaten."

"You promised you wouldn't lie," you laugh.

"I'm not," he chuckles, placing his hand over his heart. "I swear to you. These things should be used as medicine. They'd cure anything."

"Shut up," you tease bashfully, bumping your shoulder into his.

He tries the other sweets one by one, complimenting you immensely. He's so specific in the way he commends your baking. He comments on certain flavours, and textures, and the way everything melts on his tongue. He really takes the time to think about what he says. It's so intimate.

"You're gonna do this for a living, right?" he asks, turning to face you.

"I hope so," you confess. "It's all I want to do. Going to culinary school was a huge risk, but I did it. It was difficult, but they were also the best four years of my life. I just learned so much. I want to put it all into practice."

"I think you should. It'd be such a waste if you didn't. You're so talented, sugar."

"Thanks, Buck," you grin. "I just don't know where to start."

He thinks for a moment.

"If you could do anything, anything in the world - what would you do?"

He's looking at you so intensely, you almost want to shy away. His steel blue eyes are boring into you, reading your mind, figuring out your soul.

"I'd... I'd open a bakery of my own. I want a lot that overlooks the ocean. With big windows."

Bucky smiles gently, adoration written across his face.

"I'd be your most loyal customer," he vows. "Oh, I have a better idea - I'll be your quality control. I'll taste test everything before you sell it. You know, just in case."

"Just in case," you laugh. "Right."

"It's a tough job, but someone's got to do it," he winks.

The sound of your laughter is like dopamine to Bucky. It fires off neurons in his brain, receptors buzzing and alight. He almost feels drunk off the sound, floating above ground.

You relax into him, laying down and resting your head in his lap. He's warm, and soft, and so comfortable. You could lie here forever.

He runs his fingers through your hair gently, playing with the strands. The repetitive rocking of the boat lulls you into an easy sleep, the sunlight wrapping around you, taking the place of a blanket. Bucky watches you drift off, unable to wipe the smile off his face.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

A particularly strong gust of wind wakes you, rousing you from sleep. Your fingers are interlinked with Bucky's, head still resting on his strong thighs.

"How long was I out?" you ask, looking up at him.

"Like, twenty minutes? You looked peaceful, thought I'd let you rest."

"Sorry, Buck," you chuckle.

"Hey, don't apologise. I'll take it as a compliment. You know, they say you only sleep around the people you feel safe with."

"They say a lot of fuckin' things," you laugh, repeating his words from yesterday.

"I do, though," you say after a moment. "Feel safe with you. It's not just the soulmate thing. I always have."

Bucky leans down to press his forehead to yours, closing his eyes. He pulls away and kisses the spot where you were just connected.

"We should talk about us," you murmur, sitting up to face him.

"Uh oh. Are you breaking up with me?" Bucky jokes, nudging your knee with his.

"Yeah, right," you scoff. "As if you'd be so lucky. You're stuck with me, I'm afraid."

"I'll survive," he winks. "But we should. Talk about us."

You look at each other for a moment, carefully. You notice that the ocean is reflecting in Bucky's eyes, waves gleaming and blue.

"I don't know where to start," you whisper.

"Maybe start at the beginning," he suggests, reaching out to rest his palm on your thigh, fingertips rubbing comforting circles into your skin.

"I... I think - I think we should do exactly that. Start at the beginning."

He nods at you reassuringly, urging you to continue.

"I want to start slow. Really slow. I know we already know each other, but this... this is different. We don't know each other like this."

"Like soulmates," he agrees. "It's a whole other level. A league of its own."

"Exactly. I know we're Tethered, but, I think we should treat this like a normal relationship. We should date, and just... take this step by step."

"One step at a time," he confirms. "Prepare yourself, honey. I'm about to date the hell outta you."

"Someone save me," you laugh, throwing your head back. "All those poor girls that have come before me - they had to put up with this?"

He laughs with you, the sound rumbling in his chest.

"Trust me, sugar, you're different."

Bucky leans forward and slots his lips to yours, hands going to your waist to pull you closer.

Kissing your soulmate is unlike any other feeling. It's complete serenity. Two bodies, designed by The Universe to fit together perfectly.

Your fingers thread through Bucky's hair as you move to sit in his lap, straddling him. You grind your hips forward, illiciting a groan from the both of you.

Bucky slips his tongue into your mouth, tasting the sugar there. He can't get enough. You're so sweet and soft underneath his hands, underneath his tongue. He wants more.

He tips you backwards, so you're lying flat on the deck. Bucky moves to kneel in between your legs, prying them open gently. He kisses his way from your ankle to your knee, occasionally nipping at your flesh. He likes the idea of there being a mark on you that he left. He feels more protective of you than he ever has of anyone. The feeling vibrates through his bones, fires up his nerve endings. He needs to feel every inch of your skin as soon as possible, or he's convinced he'll burst into flames.

He smooths his hands up your thighs, fingers catching in the waistband of your shorts. He shimmies them down your legs, and inhales sharply at the sight before him. You're laid out on the deck of his boat like a goddess, the white shirt adorning your body matching the white lace underwear underneath. The sun rays are beating down, illuminating you, making you glow from the inside out. Bucky can't breathe, looking at you. He feels like all of the oxygen has been stolen from his lungs, replaced with pure desire.

You're breathless, panting, chest heaving. You're shaking with anticipation, willing him to do something. Anything.

"Bucky," you whine. "Please."

He's never heard a prettier sound. It's like angel song, the way you say his name.

"Patience, sweets. I thought we were taking it slow."

"Asshole," you laugh, poking him in the chest with your toe. "You're a hypocrite."

"Am I?" he smirks, running his fingertips across the inside of your thighs.

"Yes. You can't kiss me like that and then tell me to have patience."

"My apologies, ma'am."

He leans over and kisses you again, biting your bottom lip as he pulls away. Bucky slips your underwear down your legs and tucks them into the pocket of his shorts, ignoring your scoff as you watch him do it.

"Come here, pretty baby," he murmurs, tugging at your hips to pull you closer to him.

He nudges your core with his nose, inhaling deeply. It's filthy, the action, but it makes you ache with want. He licks into the crease of your thigh next, tasting the salt on your skin. Your hand flies to his hair, tugging the chocolate strands. You whine again, and Bucky commits the sound to memory.

He surprises you by sucking your clit gently, causing your hips to buck up towards his mouth. He splays one hand across your stomach, holding you down. He uses his other hand to insert a finger into you, groaning at your warmth. He crooks it up, and you keen.

"I know, baby, I know," he coos, adding a second finger.

You're not sure if it's because of the glaring sunlight or because of Bucky, but there's a thin sheen of sweat coating your skin, dripping down your temple. You're burning from the inside out, white hot heat running through your veins.

He thrusts both fingers in and out of you steadily, curling them on the up stroke. You throw your head back, hips wriggling and writhing.

"Where you going, pretty girl?" he drawls. "Come here - that's it."

He pulls you back to him, fingers never stopping. He looks up at you, and notices that you've thrown a hand over your face, shielding yourself.

"Don't go shy on me now," he practically purrs, smiling when you move your arm away. "Most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

"Fuck," you moan, suddenly glad you're in the middle of the ocean. The sounds you're letting out are filthy.

"I know, pretty baby. I know."

His fingers push you closer and closer to the edge, speeding up slightly. You're whining, keening, hips bucking up into him. You can't stay still. You feel like you're on fire, red hot electricity running through you. It's never been like this with anyone before. It never will be again.

"You're close, honey, I can feel it. You're almost there," he drawls. "Atta girl. Come on, baby. You got it. Good girl."

His low, honeyed words throw you into your climax, back arching off the sun warmed wood. Bucky talks you through it, encouraging and praising you in hushed murmurs. You see stars, bright white patterns flashing behind your eyelids. The world goes quiet for a moment, and all you feel is peace.

Bucky brings you back to reality by rubbing soothing circles into the bare skin of your thigh, still muttering softly. He lets you catch your breath before leaning over and kissing you gently.

"You okay, sugar?"

You smile at him in a daze, still floating on air.

"I'm good, Buck. Very good, actually."

He laughs at your response, moving your hair away from your face. You sit up to look at him, admiring him carefully.

"You're so pretty," you whisper. "I mean, I've always known it. But now, it's so... blinding. You're the most beautiful person in the world."

He's not sure how to process your words. He's never felt so loved, so safe, so appreciated before. It's overwhelming. He doesn't know what to say - so instead, he kisses you hard.

"You're the sweetest girl in the world, you know that right?" he whispers against your lips.

He moves to sit behind you, so your back is resting against his chest. You nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck, breathing him in. He smells like warmth, and salt, and home.

"I don't think we should tell my parents," you say lowly, afraid to ruin the moment. "Not yet, anyway."

"I agree," he reassures. "I think we should figure this out first. Figure us out."

You lean up and peck his lips gently, pulling away to trace your fingertips over the contours of his face.

"It's gonna take a while to figure this out, isn't it?"

"That's the thing, sweet girl. We have all the time in the world."

You relax back into his arms, letting his steady heartbeat lull you into complete tranquility.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

You spend all day on the boat with Bucky, soaking up the sun. Your shirts are billowing in the wind, hair blowing in every direction. The ocean rocks you both in routine motion, gentle and calming.

He teaches you the basics of sailing, sitting knee to knee with you while you repeatedly tie knots into pieces of rope. He stands behind you comfortingly as you pull and tug at the rigging, supporting you only when you ask for help.

The two of you sit tangled together on the deck, enjoying your picnic. You take a moment to rub sunblock into Bucky's shoulders, ignoring the heat that rises in your chest when he groans in delight. He's irresistible. This is more than just lust. This is a magnetism, an almost animalistic connection. It's quite literally written in the stars.

The both of you are clearly reluctant to go home. You sit in Bucky's truck outside your apartment for hours, talking about nothing and everything. You don't invite him upstairs. You know that if you do, you'll jump his bones instantly. You've both agreed to take this slow. You have to start being strict with yourselves, or you'll just keep ending up in bed.

Eventually, your stomach rumbles, making Bucky chuckle.

"You should go. Eat something."

"I know. I just... I like being with you."

He leans over the centre console to press a kiss to your lips, revelling in the way you taste like the ocean breeze.

"There's no one else in the world I'd rather be with," he murmurs against your mouth.

You pull away and take a deep breath, preparing to leave Bucky for tonight.

"Thank you, for today. It's been perfect."

"Perfect day for a perfect girl," he winks, making you both laugh.

"One step at a time."

"All the time in the world," he echoes.

"Goodnight, Buck," you whisper, moving in closer to press your forehead to his.

"Goodnight, honey girl," he whispers back, pecking your lips quickly.

He jumps out of the drivers side to help you down from the truck, holding your hand carefully. You smile at the déjà vu. He does too.

You look back at him once more before closing your front door. He's already looking at you, his eyes never once leaving your frame, smile never leaving his face.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

You're curled up on the couch when your phone rings, startling you from your peace. You look at the caller ID in confusion.

"Stella? Hey - you okay?"

"Hey, you. Long time no see, huh?"

"It's been a while," you laugh. "I didn't expect a call from you."

"I'm sorry we haven't talked in so long. I've been super busy - I'm opening my own café! It has a bookshop inside it too - oh it's gorgeous, you wouldn't even believe it."

"That sounds amazing, Stella. I'm so happy for you, wow."

"I'm actually calling because I have something to ask you."

"Ask away, Stell."

"I have a sort of... proposition for you. An offer, if you will."

"You're really building the anticipation here," you chuckle.

"Sorry, sorry! So, I'm gonna need a Head Baker. I can't do it, because I'll be manager, and I'm the owner which is a tough job in itself. Opening a café is fucking difficult, you know!" she laughs, before continuing. "You'd have complete creative control - you'd design your own bakes, everything would be completely down to you. There's quite literally only one person in this world that I'd want to do this job, and it's you."

You almost can't believe what she's telling you. It sounds perfect. It sounds like a dream.

"Stella - are you sure? This is a huge deal. You want me?"

"I only want you. I can't picture working alongside anyone else. We made such a good team in culinary school, and we always said we'd find each other in the future."

"I... I don't even know what to say."

"Say yes!" she encourages, giggling down the phone.

"Yes!" you echo, giddy with joy. "God, Stella, yes!"

You're smiling from ear to ear, unable to wipe the grin off your face. Your dream job has been presented to you on a silver platter. You'd be stupid not to take it.

"I mean - when do I start? What should I wear? Do you want a set menu, or can I change it up all the time? Vegan options? Gluten free?"

"I can send you all of the boring stuff in an email - contracts, salary information, all that shit. You can quite literally do whatever the fuck you want, girl. I trust you completely. I trust your culinary skills even more."

"Oh my god, I'm so excited. Thank you, Stella. Seriously. This is just amazing."

"I can't wait to have you here with me again!"

You process for a moment, trying to make sense of what she just said.

"Wait... what? Where?"

"In California. The café is here, in California!"

You can't hear her next words due to the ringing in your ears. Your chest tightens, your hands ball into fists, your breathing becomes ragged.

There's a million thoughts racing through your mind, and you can't quite get a firm grasp on any of them.

Bucky would never leave this place. This is his home. I can't ask him to abandon his life here - I wouldn't want to. We've been soulmates for two days. What about his job? His friends? Would I leave everything behind and move across the country for him? I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I can't have my cake and eat it too. He'd give everything up for me in a heartbeat - I can't let him. It's not fair.

You're suddenly intensely aware - you have to make a choice.

Bucky or your dreams.

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