READER IMAGINES [1]

Bucky Barnes x Reader

rb: @TerriesTorres

word count: 1,008

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“So, that’s how I learnt that I’m basically an electric mixer.”

You can’t help the painful chuckle that spills out from your lips. When you had asked Bucky to tell you a story, you hadn’t expected that. Maybe some sort of tragic war tale or even plums, but definitely not a story about how Bucky learnt that whisking with his metal arm is extremely effective when making batter.

“See? I can do more than shoot a gun.”

Bucky looks down at you-- your head resting on his lap-- and tries to keep himself focused. He needs to pay attention to you. He can’t afford to think about anything else but you right now.

“Maybe I’ll make you a cake some day.” He says, “Or muffins? Whichever you prefer.”

“Cupcakes.” You say slowly, “I prefer icing.”

“Cupcakes it is, then.”

You smile and then close your eyes; feeling extremely tired. Being held by Bucky is, you now find, one of the greatest feelings in the world. His fingers brush against your cheek with such affection that you almost melt into his touch.

"You better not be falling asleep on me." He says, "Not when I'm telling you a story."

You want to ask him where this story of his is headed, especially as you thought he had finished telling it, but you keep your eyes closed-- not out of some sort of playful retaliation but simply because it's getting harder to keep them open.

"Hey," Bucky's voice calls out to you, "look at me."

He shakes you ever so gently; just enough to get your eyes to flutter open again. His smile creases his face when your eyes look up at him.

"Don't fall asleep. You have to tell me what cupcakes you like." He says, "Vanilla?"

You slowly shake your head.

"Chocolate?"

Another shake.

"Red velvet?"

You smile briefly, just enough to show Bucky that you're still listening, and then lick your lips to wet the words that are seemingly drying up in your throat.

"Sprinkles," you say, "anything with sprinkles."

"Okay, I'll make you cupcakes with sprinkles. Sound good?"

You nod your head and feel as if the whole world nods with you as you do. Bucky's lip quivers ever so much as he tightens his grip on your hand laid at your stomach, making sure to keep pressure there.

"But you have to be here when I make them." He says, "You have to stay with me, okay?"

You feel something wet touch the tip of your nose and worry about what it could be, until you hear a short sniffle from Bucky and see the tears dripping down his cheeks.

"Stay with me." He cries silently, "Promise?"

He strokes his fingers along your cheek again but hesitates when he leaves a streak of red on your skin. His hands are covered with your blood from the bullet wound at your stomach. He's been trying to stop the bleeding but it seems like no amount of pressure can keep you from spilling out.

"I'll try." You whisper.

You can't promise-- you and Bucky both know that. You can't promise that you'll be strong enough to stay awake, to stay with Bucky, to stay alive. But you can promise him one thing and that is that you will try. You'll try as hard as you can to stay because Bucky needs you. And you need him too.

"They'll be here soon." Bucky assures you.

Yet some part of him was not as sure. He had alerted the team-- sent out an SOS-- as soon as you had collapsed into his arms. He hadn't even known that you were shot, and you had no intention of telling him so until you two were on a SHIELD aircraft heading out of here. But… it didn't seem to go as planned. The whole mission hadn't gone as planned.

"You're going to be alright." Bucky says, but it's more for himself than for you, "Everything is going to be alright."

His voice was sounding further and further away; almost as if he were the light at the end of the tunnel but the tunnel keeps stretching out no matter how much you run toward the end of it.

"Hey, don't you go anywhere." Bucky says with urgency, "Don't leave me."

No matter what he seemed to say, he was getting no response from you. Not even a short smile or a deeper breath-- absolutely nothing. Like you were going unresponsive.

"Please, please…" Bucky's voice was breaking with each breath.

He can't lose you. He needs you. He knows that you know how much you mean to him and he can't handle you giving up. He needs you to keep fighting.

"Squeeze my hand if you can hear me." He says, "Please, just let me know that you're still with me."

He waits for the squeeze-- he expects to feel it on his skin-- but you don't move a muscle. Your breathing remains shallow as your eyes stay closed. You're fading away, but at the same time you know you're still in Bucky's arms.

There's a crash at the end of the hallway and Bucky's head snaps up toward the sound. He instinctively moves his hand to grip the gun at his hip, but quickly remembers that he has to keep his hand pressed against your wound.

Figures appear down the hallway, almost as if emerging from the sound, as they make their way over to where you and Bucky are. He almost breaks out into laughter when he realizes it's his team here to help, but then a feeling at his hand grabs his attention.

You're squeezing his hand.

You heard him. You've been listening this entire time. And you're doing what you said you would; you're trying to stay with Bucky. And now that help has arrived, you and Bucky both know that you're going to make it out alive.

And Bucky will have to live up to his promise of making you cupcakes with sprinkles on them.

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Next imagine: Peter Parker (Marvel)