# aesthetic = off-season coney island. faded patriotic posters. radio static filling the room. copper pennies and worn leather boots. calling it the home front just to avoid calling it stranded.
# warn = mdni and strict 18+ on respective fics. will contain darker themes.
12 files | agent peggy carter captain steve rogers sergeant bucky barnes
-- nsfw
[gn] duties-and-debauchery.txt
// a sultry reunion at the bar with your childhood best friends, cpt. rogers and sgt. barnes: post-serum steve's so sensitive, it's delicious.
[afab] duty-driven-lust.txt
// you're a strategist assigned to the howling commandos tasked currently on a deep dive physiological study on cpt rogers — utilising his serum-enhanced stamina and noble sense of duty to optimise ballistic data and mission success through intensive, hands on variable testing.
[amab] in-close-quarters.txt
// war leaves everyone hollow. so to cope with the loneliness and constant danger, you establish a private amorous dynamic with sgt. barnes that pushed past every military boundary.
[gn] jerking-needy-cpt-rogers-off.txt
// jerking off a rather flustered cpt rogers — he unfortunately got horny at thought of you, during a mission.
[afab] last-night-of-freedom.txt
// during his bachelor's party, cpt rogers is pushed to his limits by manipulative teasing of his two best friends. he always knew you liked to dance, and that sgt. barnes loves to rough-house with him.
[afab] lessons-in-charmin-dames.txt
// sgt barnes has exhausted every trick in brooklyn and you're still unmoved. you've just got a different idea of what constitutes a good time.
[afab][amab] overstimulating-himself-on-you.txt
// cpt. rogers just wants to be good for you — even it meant pushing himself to the brink of his limits.
[gn] relieving-eager-cpt-rogers-with-agt-carter.txt
// hidden in his own office's comfort, you're humiliating and relieving a needy cpt. rogers with agt. carter.
[amab] yield-strength.txt
// a material science principle where sustained stress past a critical threshold causes permanent deformation. sgt. barnes is, unfortunately, the prime variable — his stupid brain wondering just what else yours and cpt. rogers' heavy strength could do, preferably in close quarters.
[older][afab] youre-his-client-for-the-night.txt
// low on pay, sgt. barnes turns to escorting as a feasible service. you're his client for tonight
-- sfw
[gn] bird-brained.txt
// courting sgt. barnes is usually a sweet, slow-burn affair — until you catch him frantically throwing a mail pigeon into the sky and he panics.
[gn] field-exposure.txt
// you’re a war photographer, capturing all the crucial details of the scene and strategies. but your lens keeps landing on sgt. barnes.
[desi][afab] zara-rukja.txt
// you’re a foreign diplomatic affiliate with places to be and exactly zero patience for delays — which makes it deeply unfortunate that your dupatta has other ideas, specifically ones involving cpt rogers' badge clasp on your way out the door.
He was so sweet, so innocent. I can imagine him just living daily life, rolling out of bed with crazy bed head, toothbrush in his mouth as he tugs on a button up.
Skipping breakfast because who cares? He can always eat something later. Besides, he’s late to meet with Steve.
Who he always yanks close with an arm around the shoulders. Who he always teases relentlessly.
Bucky promised Steve he’d come over to model for a painting he wanted to try. Because Steve just bought new paints from the corner, and was eager to create something.
I can imagine 1940s Bucky being shy, scratching his neck and blushing when he’s embarrassed himself in front of a girl.
Especially when he takes her to the fair, goes on the Ferris wheel, and has to mask his fear of heights. But she notices, and he’s flustered.
But he pushes through because he wants to impress her. He wants to look good.
I can imagine 1940s Bucky listening to his number being called over the radio, knowing this means he’s been drafted. Feeling his stomach sink. The cold flush that zips down his spine.
But he’s a good man, so he tells himself he can do it. He can push through and do what has to be done, so he can come home.
I can imagine 1940s Bucky getting his dog tags, and it’s bittersweet, because something about seeing his name printed in that metal is just so cool. But the reason behind wearing them is so dark.
But he doesn’t want Steve to worry, or think he’s not cut out. So he puts on a brave face, like always. Because Steve is the only thing he really has, and he wants Steve to admire him, look up to him.
Because Bucky has always admired his friend, his heart.
I can imagine 1940s Bucky trying not to cry when he’s first been taken, when he’s strapped down on that cold table. He’s so scared but he doesn’t want to be. He wants to be strong.
But he’s trembling, his nails dig into the leather beneath him. His bloodshot eyes sparkle with tears. He swallows down the pathetic choked up sound that begs to crawl up his throat.
Peggy had barely placed her bag down on her desk when a scarlet light began flashing and a blaring alarm sounded. The agents in the bullpen reacted quickly, dropping whatever they were holding and marching purposefully towards the conference room.
"Agent Carter," the Brit turned to see Chief Dooley striding out of his office and past the front of her desk. "We just caught a redball out of D.C.. All hands on deck..."
In a quick manner with an air of dutifulness, she grabbed the clipboard in front of her and moved to hurry after him, stopping short at his interruption.
"...meaning, cover the phones."
Like hell she was just going to sit in here doing the dirty work, missing the action that was always left selfishly to the men; she was just as capable, if not more so, as all of the agents in there. With an indignant frown, she turned and curtly picked up the phone on her desk. "Rose, forward all calls to the briefing room." She slammed the handset back into its receiver pointedly and turned to find a disgruntled, but weary, Dooley glowering at her.
"Covered," she fought the urge to smirk as she marched past him. "Shall we?"
As she stepped into the room now filled with agents, he refused to even look at her, as if he could simply pretend she wasn't there, but he knew that she'd undoubtedly make her unwanted presence known at some point. He sighed and shook his head before following her into the room.
A fanfare played as the projection film started, flashing the words 'Millionaire... Playboy... Traitor?' onto the screen. Peggy rolled her eyes – scandals were always dramatically exaggerated for entertainment these days – was ordinary life really that boring that a series of white capital letters were needed to liven things up?
"Americans have long followed the career of inventor Howard Stark..."
Despite herself, Peggy smiled softly as images of her friend flashed onto the screen, bringing up memories of their exploits in the war with Erskine and Steve...
Her gentle memories ended abruptedly to allow her to roll her eyes as at least seven different women appeared in images and video recordings with Howard on several occasions. She did hope he'd settle down at some point, though admittedly, she couldn't envision it.
"...accused of selling weapons to the enemy, the founder of Stark Industries was recently called to Capitol Hill."
This had been in her mind already since that morning when she'd read the headline of the newspapers, and it still sounded as ridiculous as before. She knew Howard was careless and impulsive at best, but his deepest loyalties were unwavering; he'd never do something as irresponsible and treasonous as selling his inventions to the enemy, especially since he knew their extraordinary potential thanks to his high intelligence and boundless arrogance.
Her eyes rolled again as Howard made a witty comment in response to a question he'd been asked regarding the weapons. This entire ordeal would be so much easier for him if he took it seriously, but she knew that was something he was incapable of.
The clip continued.
"The much-loved actress and international celebrity icon, Miss Tonya Stark, is also suspected of being involved in Howard Stark's crimes..."
A few of the men shuffled uncomfortably. Peggy rolled her eyes; they always got like this when a woman was involved, especially one as beautiful as Tonya. She did feel a pang of fear though – she was as good friends with Tonya as she was Howard, and she knew that, despite her cheeky personality, the actress was practically a saint and clever enough to not get roped into such misdeeds. She only wished she could say the same for Howard.
"Hang on a minute, Chief..." one of the agents piped up in an attempt to voice what they were all thinking. None of them felt like going out and arresting one of the most famous women on the planet.
Chief Dooley held up his hand to silence the agent, though he looked reluctant to do so. Clearly his thoughts agreed with theirs.
They all turned back to the screen.
"After a show two nights ago, Miss Stark was swarmed by a crowd of fans and press, one of whom asked the question we've all been dying to know the answer to..."
The film flicked to a wobbly video of Tonya walking towards a long car in a stunning dress, probably her signature red colour, though it was impossible to tell on the black and white screen, with a soft fur coat on her shoulders. Faux fur, of course, Peggy knew, as Tonya was an animal rights activist and would never wear such an item if it originally belonged to another living creature, though none of the press cared about that side of her. They only wanted to capture and write about her appearance – that's all anybody seemed to be interested in when it came to women.
The Tonya in the video smiled widely, showing her perfect teeth as the cameras flashed and people shouted around her. She beamed for all the pictures and stopped to sign a few photos and programmes from the show that had just finished. She looked up at one particularly persistent journalist, who snatched his opportunity and cried:
"Tonya! Tonya! What do you have to say about your brother, Howard Stark, selling weapons to the U.S.S.R.?"
At the question, the dazzling smile immediately dropped from her face as her eyebrows knitted together.
"Well if I had to say something, I'd say that that's a lie. Howard has never done anything of the sort and never will," she raised an eyebrow, as if challenging the man to follow up her curt statement.
He didn't have to, because now that the door had been opened, another man leapt over the threshold.
"Miss Stark! Do you know that Mr Stark didn't turn up to his last court hearing earlier today and is therefore now considered a guilty man and a fugitive from justice?"
Her frown only grew deeper. "Technically he's not guilty. Nothing was explicitly proven and, according to law, he's innocent until proven guilty. But of course I knew about that – he's my brother," She shrugged and hugged the coat around her tighter. She turned back to the rest of the crowd, who were quieter than they had been before as they were listening intently to what she had to say. Her smile returned and she said: "Thank you, that will be all," before quickly ducking into the car, as the crowd clamoured noisily again.
The clip ended and Dooley rolled the screen up. He sighed and turned to the men and Peggy around the table.
"So far, six pieces of Stark's technology have turned up either on the black market or in the arsenals of enemy states."
Peggy frowned subtly, in order to avoid being unnecessarily called about by Dooley or another of the agents. There was solid evidence that Stark's weapons had ended up in the wrong hands and fingers were being pointed at the rich inventor, but it simply did not add up for her.
"Two days ago, it was the final day of hearings: Stark didn't show. After her little statement she gave the press that same night," Dooley gestured behind him to where the screen had been. "Miss Stark was taken in for questioning. She answered all the basic stuff, but when they got to asking about Stark and where he was, she refused to even speak. They kept her in custody for the night, planning to continue the interrogation in the morning, but she escaped. Guards sedated, no Tonya and a great dirty hole in the wall was all they found the next day. Some of the press have already heard about it and conspirators are saying that it was Stark who helped her get out. They checked their half a dozen houses and their half a dozen offices: nothing. So, as of this moment, Howard Stark is not only in contempt of Congress, he's a fugitive from justice. Now I don't wanna accuse Little Miss National Treasure of being involved in this scandal, but all the recent information seems to be adding up to her complicity, so she is to be regarded as an unlawful associate to the said fugitive from justice."
There was a tense silence as Dooley allowed the room to process this barrel of information.
"Find Stark. Squeeze him until he loses his sense of humour," he gestured to the blond agent sat at the front of the table. "Thompson, you lead."
Without hesitation the agent placed his pen down and sat up straighter. "I'll ground their planes and freeze both their bank accounts," he shrugged with a smirk. "There's a girl at First Federal who wants to owe me a favour."
Peggy sent a glare to Thompson and took this opportunity to interject; she'd rather not hear any more about Thompson's First Federal girl. "Sir, I really must object–" she looked to Dooley, who interrupted before she could even finish.
"Why am I not surprised?" he gestured to her, rolling his eyes and staring at her in indignant disbelief.
She continued, regardless. "I knew Howard and Tonya during the war. Their help was invaluable. Howard may be a great many things, but he's not a traitor."
"We all know Tonya's a great many things too, don't we?" Krzeminski muttered, earning crude chuckles and quiet whistles from the agents around the table. "I'm sure she was an invaluable source help to many of the soldiers."
Peggy was tempted to hit the obnoxious man over the head with her clipboard, and Dooley must have seen the look in her eye, because he waved a dismissive hand at the agent, though not without a smirk of his own.
"We're all aware of your record, Agent," he returned to Peggy. "I'm sure being Captain America's... liaison brought you into contact with all sorts of interesting people," Dooley raised an eyebrow suggestively and Peggy's face hardened. Krzeminski looked up at her from his seat with a smug grin plastered on his infuriating face. "But the war's over. Let the professionals decide who's worth going after."
With that, he left the room, which the other agents took as an indication to return to whatever they had been doing previously.
Krzeminski couldn't resist getting a final dig, as he leaned over to the agent sat beside him before they left. "Sounds like Carter knew a lot of guys during the war. Lucky to know Tonya too... what I wouldn't give to–"
Peggy glanced at the agent, about to make a remark before Sousa interrupted him first.
Summary: She never thought a trip to the laundromat would end in her meeting the love of her life. She never thought a trip to the laundromat would change her life forever.
A love with Bucky through the years, starting in the 30s, flowing through a raging war and a looming goodbye.
Word Count: 10k
Warnings: Fluff. Smut. Sexual Content. Angst. Sweet 1940s Bucky. Mention of war. Mention of blood and wounds and guns. 18+ MDNI
Authors Note: Hi guys! I've had this one in my closet for a while. I really love this one and hope you guys do to. There's a part 2 if you guys end up wanting it. Just let me know. But I hope you guys love this one, because I really really do! (also yes I mention a song from the 60s in this but pretend it was made 30 years before shhhhh) Comment and be kind!
She didn’t love doing laundry, but she loved the smell of fresh clothes. She also loved inventive machinery. She was young and curious, still living with her parents. They were a small family that generated a large mess. Her mother was a teacher, her father a soldier. There wasn’t much time for them all to gather at home together. So household duties usually fell on her.
So she found herself in a brand new self operating laundromat.
The first time she visited the place, it was bustling with life. People from all around her neighborhood were marveling at the new inventive idea. She was thankful for it, too. Back home they didn’t have the money for a washing machine, and usually washed everything by hand.
She spent two days a week in the quiet little building, washing her family's clothes and linens. She’d begun to enjoy the peace to herself.
For the first time in a while, she was the only person in the laundromat. She sat against a small bench in the center of the room, a book folded in her lap as she listened to the machines clink.
The front door jingled, signalling another patron. She didn’t feel the need to look, content with keeping to herself. But then she heard the sound of two duffle bags hit the floor, and a very concerned sigh. She looked up to see a rather handsome looking young man staring at the machines in confusion.
She bit back a smile as she watched him shuffle up to the orange machine, digging through his pockets for change. He glanced at the coins, then at the washer.
“Need a hand?” She felt compelled to help him. She wasn’t one for talking to strangers, but he just looked so stupidly helpless.
He looked surprised, embarrassment making him smile shyly. “That obvious?”
She closed her book and set it aside. “Just a bit.”
“I’ve just-” he chuckled, shrugging. “Never used one of these before.”
“Not many people have, they’re quite the feat.” She smiled, approaching him. “But they’re not that bad, trust me.” She glanced back at his two large bags. “You might be here a while, though.”
“I wish I would have brought a book. Do they have a radio?” He tilted his head at her, bright blue eyes curious.
She shook her head, “not yet.”
He sighed, clicking his tongue. “Well I better get started then. Take mercy on me?” He blinked at her through dark lashes and a soft smile.
She lifted a brow at him. “You might need a notebook for future use, mr…”
“Barnes, James Barnes,” he held his hand out, a charming smile spreading across his lips. “But people call me Bucky.”
She took his hand, returning his quick shake. “Bucky? Is that a nickname?”
He nodded. “‘M middle name is Buchannon. My buddy gave me the name Bucky when we were kids.” He stuck his hand back in his pocket. “And what might your name be, doll?”
Her stomach fluttered at the name. “Y/n,” she introduced herself. “No nickname.”
“Y/n,” the name rolled off his tongue like a purr. She suddenly felt nervous, speaking to such a handsome man. “Pretty name. So, Y/n, help me out here?”
She nodded, laughing at the kicked puppy look he had on his face. “Alright, alright.”
So she spent the next fifteen minutes walking him through the mechanics of the machines. She went a bit off topic as she rambled about the fantastical changes between old models and new. She had a knack for mechanics.
She caught herself rambling once she realized he had his chin in his hand, his eyes fixed on her, as they sat together. “Oh- I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to talk so much.” She chuckled.
He shook his head, smiling fondly. “No, no, I’m enjoying it. The technicalities behind such mundane things never really cross my mind. It’s nice to hear about how it all works. How do you know all this stuff?”
“Ah- my father, he’s a pilot. He used to build these little models when I was just a girl. He sometimes let me help him because I had smaller hands.” She wiggled her fingers at him.
He chuckled, looking at her hands. “So do you still build things? Machines like these?”
She stared at him like he had two heads. “Of course not,” she could almost laugh. “I’m a woman, can’t you tell?”
Bucky shook his head, a small smile on his lips. “Ah, so what? I’ve never understood all that.” He waved a hand. “Smaller hands are great for precise work. And I don't mean knitting.”
“Good thing I can’t knit.”
“Perfect. But can you build machines still? Have you tried since you were just a girl?” He tilted his head at her.
She felt a bit flustered under the weight of the conversation. She’d just met him, she shouldn’t be speaking of such political matters with him. But she felt a flame flicker in her stomach under his insistence. “I haven’t tried in a long time. You don’t usually just have spare parts lying around.”
“Go to a junkyard, I knew boys back in school who scavenged for days for a bike.”
She laughed, covering her mouth with her hand. “Oh yes, I’ll just go dig through trash for a few hours. The perfect plan.”
He shrugged. “I’ve been told I’m a great strategist.”
She rolled her eyes. “Oh yeah? From who?”
“My best pal, the one digging through the trash for a bike.” He grinned, his shoulders shaking with a suppressed laughter.
She snickered, shaking her head. “Sounds like a very honest and cooperative friendship.”
“Oh, the best around. Perfectly even. I have the ideas, he has the heart.”
“How sweet. I can only imagine the trouble you two cause.”
“Oh trust me, you don’t want to.” He gave her a mischievous look.
“So what is it you two do in the time you’re not digging through trash and starting problems?”
“I work in the newspaper,” he calmed his laughter. “Print work. Have you ever seen a print machine?” He offered.
“No, but I’ve always wondered.” She hummed, leaning in in interest.
“Well, they’re just these giant hunks of metal covered in ink. I work with loading up the print machines and rolling on the ink to press into the papers. Nothin’ fancy, really. But I always get the fresh scoop of news before anyone else.” He grinned cheekily.
“Very nice, what’s your favorite column then? Do you favor the hot gossip?”
“Oh of course. Who cares about war and politicians, when I can know who’s been caught in a public affair.”
She gasped dramatically. “What do you know?” She inched closer.
“I’ll never tell,” he teased.
“Oh you can’t do that!”
“Oh yes I can, it's my job!”
She groaned, waving her hand at him. “I’ll get you to tell me.”
He shook his head. “How do I know you’re not secretly working for a rival reporter? This might all be a grand scheme to steal our research.” He looked around the room in dramatic suspicion.
She rolled her eyes. “Oh, yes that's exactly what I’m doing here.”
“See, I knew it.”
The pair spent the next two hours in lively conversation and banter. By the time their clothes were nice and dry, she was teaching him how to properly fold his clothes. He enjoyed the gentle way she scolded him. She loved the cheeky way he always had a new joke to tell.
He exuded this comfortable confidence in himself, it was contagious. He was like a ball of light. He didn’t even notice the fond way she teased him, because all he could focus on was how enjoyable her presence was.
Each moment with her was sparkling with life and oozing comfortable chemistry.
By the time they had finished their laundry, he was doing all he could to stretch out the time with her. The sun was setting, casting the city in warm darkness. “Can I walk you home?” He asked, leaning against the machines.
She bit back her smile, glancing at his bags of laundry. “You want to carry all that through the city with me?”
He shook his head, then nodded at a car parked along the street. “I have somewhere to put it.”
She gaped at him, a shiver running down her spine. “You have a car?” She gasped. Nobody had a car- not normal people. The image she had been crafting of this sweet man was suddenly changing very quickly.
“It’s my family’s, we share it, of course.” He smiled at her shyly, suddenly looking a bit timid.
“Wow,” she huffed. “Why not just drive me home then, mister Barnes?” She asked, trying to hide her shock with a bit of cheek.
“Well because the night would end a lot sooner than I want it to.”
She hid her blush as she turned to look down the street. “Well go put your clothes away then, I’ll wait here.”
It was like the words found no end as they walked along. Bucky had taken up carrying her laundry for her, holding the basket under his arm as they walked. She was charmed by the gentlemanly act.
“I’m-I’m serious-” Bucky cackled, almost tripping on a lift in the sidewalk. “He- he was trying to stop us from breaking news about the lawsuit, so he broke into the newsroom, and Mike got into this big fight with him-” he paused, catching his breath. “And he trapped his head in the press!”
“Oh my god- did the ink…?”
“Oh, he went down town with the headline stained into his cheek.”
She snickered, shoulders bouncing with laughter. They had started going back and forth, sharing stories of their lives- and evidently, this was his favorite as of recent.
“Well, I don’t really have anything to beat that,” She sighed, glancing up at the stars. “I don’t get to go out and do much.”
“Why not?” He asked, composing himself.
She shrugged. “Oh, I don't know. I do love to go out, I love dancing and the theater and nature, I just love life. I just never get to go out much. My friend Betty and I used to go out together, but she has just been so busy recently, I haven’t had the chance.”
He nodded thoughtfully, chewing on his cheek in thought as they approached her front steps. “Would you like to go skating with me and my buddy this week?”
She paused, turning to look at him. “Really?”
He nodded, that cheeky smile twisting at her lips. “This friday, I’ll pick you up. You can bring your friend too.”
She couldn’t see it, but he was swallowing down a great deal of panic, awaiting her answer. She blinked at him in shock, then let out a delighted breath. “I’d love to, Bucky.”
And like that, she saw the man every week. She and her close friend would join him and his friend Steve for an event and dinner. He would pick her up from her home, greet her mother, then sweep her off for the night.
Unlike many people their age, they never crossed that boundary of intimate friendship- not for a long time, at least. They spent their time as equals, enjoying each other's friendship and sharing life experiences.
There was always something else there, something strong and warm and sweet, but they let it simmer and grow in quiet acknowledgment.
“Woah-!” She yelped as their seat was lifted off the ground.
“Hold on, doll.” Bucky snickered, guiding her hands to the ropes at their sides.
From above, she could see it all. Lights and laughter blended together with the smell of cheap food and sugar. Children shrieked in laughter as they chased each other between booths. Teenagers egged eachother on in the lines leading up to the newest attractions.
She’d never been to Coney Island before Bucky. She’d never had occasion- or funds- to go.
“It’s beautiful,” she whispered, staring out at all the bright lights.
They sat on one of Bucky’s favorite rides. Steeplechase’s Parachute Ride. It was technically a hot air balloon with cords bolting it to the ground. But instead of a basket, there was a two person seater.
“Very,” Bucky smiled, looking at the way the breeze made her hair fluff up, whisping around her face.
She glanced back at him, one of her hands still clutching tightly at his bicep. “You ain’t smooth, you know?” She fought the smile tugging at her lips.
He pressed a hand over his heart, mock wounded. “You hurt me, sugar.”
She snickered, looking back out over the expanse of the boardwalk and the gentle waves of the ocean. “I do apologize.”
He dropped his hand, holding the ropes. “Mhm, very sincere.” He sighed. “You like it?” he nodded at the fair. “I thought you would. I hoped you would.” He smiled softly, his ears tinged a light pink.
“You thought right. It’s pretty from up here. You know I’ve never been on a ferris wheel?” She stared over at the giant ride across the way from them.
He gaped at her. “You’re kiddin’, right?” She shook her head. “Then that’s where we’re goin’ next. I hope you ain’t afraid of heights like that.”
“We’ll just have to see.”
And they did.
Bucky dragged her from one attraction to another. The ferris wheel was her favorite. Bucky asked her if she’d ever thought about how machines like those ones worked- opening up the opportunity for her to get lost in her fantasies.
She of course went on, rocking their metal seat as she leaned forward to get a look at the center of the wheel. She told him about how engineers had to design all those rides, working the ins and outs for safety and functionality.
Bucky grinned from ear to ear as he listened to her, fascinated with her curious mind.
After the ferris wheel, he took her to get a funnel cake and another pound of sugar in cheap snacks. Once she felt sick from corn dogs and cotton candy, he decided they should take a cool down walk through the games.
Each booth was decorated in gaudy stuffed animals and small toy boxes. All of the games were rigged, they both knew, but it couldn’t take from their fun.
Bucky nearly lost his mind playing that forsaken bottleneck ring toss game. She had to drag him away before he blew another pocket of change just on the chance to win her a stupid bear.
“Come on, I wanna ride that coaster.” She snickered, taking him by the arm.
“The Cyclone? Oh sugar, I’ve got a story for you.” He trailed after her.
“If it involves you torturing poor Stevie and makin’ him throw up everywhere, I already know.” She knocked her shoulder into his.
“How do you know about that?” He smirked, slipping his hand down her lower back to guide her through the crowd.
“At the diner last week when you went to order our shakes, Stevie told me all about your last trip here.” She snickered. “Poor boy looked traumatized!”
“He had fun,” Bucky smiled, thinking back on the day he forced his friend to ride the rollercoaster until he threw up. He remembered patting his back until he was no longer green in the face.
“Oh I’m sure you thought so. I might have to come back here with Steve next time, show him some real fun.” She huffed.
“You pickin’ sides now?” He scoffed, manoeuvring them into the line.
“Maybe.” She smirked.
Bucky leaned down a little onto her level, his blue eyes sharp against the lowering sunset. “Now, I don’t like that. I found you first.”
“I ain’t no toy, Barnes.” She poked his chest gently.
He caught her hands in his. “Oh I know. But you’re gonna hurt my ego if you go spendin’ your time with my buddy instead of me.”
“Every man's ego needs a little hurtin’ every now and then.” She smiled, ignoring the soft blush in her cheeks.
He scoffed, pulling back. “I have a feelin’ you’re gonna be showin me plenty of that.”
“Oh don’t you know it.”
“Steve, over here!” She waved her arm dramatically in the air from where she sat on her blanket. The shorter man straightened when he saw her, a timid smile lighting up his face. Not far behind him, trailed an excited Bucky.
The sun was still warm on her skin, coloring the sky a pretty orange as it readied to set. Around her, couples and friends and families alike sat on blankets, chatting and simmering in excitement.
It was the end of summer, early august, when the music festival rolled into town. She was beyond excited, and so were the boys. They had all grown close over their shared love of music, so she decided they would all attend together.
“Better late than never,” she scolded softly as the pair approached.
Steve threw a look over his shoulder at his dark headed friend. “Ask him, he had to stop twenty times for the basket.” He said as he settled on the blanket.
Bucky set a wicker picnic basket down in front of her, before taking his seat beside her. “Hey, you say that now, but if we didn't bring food you’d be whinin’ the whole night.”
She slapped his arm for his sass, chuckling to herself. She peaked inside the basket to find a few cans of coke and some snacks. “Well I guess I can’t be too mad, thank you, Bucky,” she sent him a soft smile.
He hid his blush by looking up to find the band setting up. “I’m shocked they haven't started yet,” he muttered.
“This is the second band,” she huffed, squinting at the boys. “You missed the first one.”
“We’re sorry, I’ll make sure to give him hell for making you wait.” Steve offered.
She grinned, bumping her shoulder with the blond boys. “That’s why you're my favorite.” She snickered when Bucky grumbled. “Anyways, shush, they’re starting soon.”
So the trio sat together, setting out their snacks to enjoy the show together. When the music started, the woman felt herself relaxing. It was a beautiful picture, painted by the sunset and couples standing to dance. The man singing had a silky smooth deep voice, powerful in the way it carried through the park.
She took a sip of her soda, then climbed to her feet. She left her heels on the blanket, knowing they would just sink in the grass. “Come here, Stevie, let's dance.” She held her hands out, looking at him. The boy sunk into himself, shaking his head.
“You know I can’t-”
“Oh, but you can,” She said, grabbing his arm and dragging him up. She glanced at Bucky over the boy's shoulder, who was snickering to himself.
She took Steve’s hands in hers and started hopping around on her feet. “Come on, just move,” she giggled, spinning around with him to the upbeat music.
Steve stumbled along, doing his best through the laughter bubbling in his chest. Bucky watched the pair, grinning as he watched his best friend having such a good time. He also couldn’t help but enjoy the moment to fondly watch the woman.
Since they’d all become friends she had taken to the lively feeling the two gave her. Every week, Bucky looked forward to seeing her. He especially loved moments like this, watching her spin and giggle. The way the sun caught the strands of hair that slipped from her loose curls.
She dragged Steve into a dramatic twirl as the music picked up, the pair of them almost toppling over. “Alright- alright,” Steve laughed, slowing to a stop. “I oughtta stop now before I hurt myself- or you.”
She sighed, letting him go to sit back down. She glanced over to Bucky, who continued to watch her. “What about you, mister Barnes? Can you dance?”
He scoffed, mock offended, as he stood. “Of course I can dance.”
“I’ll have to be the judge of that,” she smirked, holding her hands out for him. She gasped when he tugged her close, leading them into a swing. She shrieked out a laugh as he took the lead, one hand on her hip, the other in hers, spinning them around.
Her bare feet slid across the grass, a gentle breeze rustled through the trees. They pranced dramatically in the small patch of space beside their blanket.
“Never doubt me, doll,” he teased, twirling her.
She grinned, spinning and tripping into his chest. Bucky let them slow down for a moment. “You call this dancing?” She poked, her hands falling to his chest.
They’d never before been so close, but it felt so easy- like second nature. He let his hands fall to her hips, his ears tinged a soft pink. “What would you call it, hm?”
“A mess,” she teased.
Bucky scoffed, tilting his head back to laugh. “You think you’re slick, but you’re just trying to push my buttons.” She opened her mouth for a comeback, but yelped when he swiftly dipped her.
She gasped, tilted back far enough to fall without his steady arm. “Shocking me into silence doesn't give you the last word.” She tried to steady her breathing.
He pulled her back up, her hands steadying herself on his shoulders. He tucked a frizzy lock of loose hair behind her ear, a grin on his lips. “I think it does.”
The knock at her front door made her heart jump. She checked her reflection in the mirror by the door. When she cracked it open, she was met with a beautifully groomed young man. He wore a dark blue suit, his hair combed back nicely, and a nice watch to match. He held a single red rose between his fingers.
“Evening,” she greeted, holding back her excited smile. “How can I help you?”
“Good Evening. I’m here to pick up a pretty young lady for a date.” He smiled, doing his best not to shamelessly rake his eyes over her.
“Well I’ll just have to check inside, I don’t know if I have one of those on hand.”
He clicked his tongue, finally letting himself look over her pretty pink dress and short red heels. “I beg to differ.”
She finally let her laughter escape, letting her door swing open. “I’ll have to warn her, you’re quite bold.”
“I have a feeling she already knows.” He stepped closer. “For you,” he held out the rose to her. She grinned, taking the pretty flower in hand. She brought it to her nose to smell.
“Thank you, Bucky.”
“It’s not as pretty as you, doll, but I do what I can.”
She ignored the blush rising in her cheeks as she stared at the rose. “You wait here, I’ll go put it somewhere safe.” She said as she hurried down the hall to place the rose in some water. She snagged her purse from the counter, then met him back at the door.
He held his hand out to her, a cheeky smile on his lips. She slipped her palm in his after locking the door. “So, where to tonight, handsome?”
He tilted his head back, looking dramatically in thought. “Well, I was hoping I could treat you to a movie. Maybe… the Phantom of the Opera?” He glanced at her sideways.
She gasped, squeezing his hand. “Oh I’ve been wanting to see that!” She said excitedly. “How did you know?”
“I have my secrets,” he teased, leading her down to the car. It was a shiny and new blue 1940s cruiser sedan. She felt fancy every time she sat inside it. He closed the car door for her once she was inside, then took his own seat.
“Your secrets are going to get you in trouble one day, mister Barnes.” She squinted at him, trying to hide her smile.
The car rumbled to life as they pulled onto the street. “You’re distracting the driver, young lady.”
“You act like such an old man,” she giggled.
“And you act like I’m some youngster,” he grinned, turning them down another street.
“Well in my eyes you haven't changed a bit,” she snickered at his offended expression.
“I’ve grown quite a bit in these years, you know.” He huffed.
“Really? I couldn’t tell.”
If he weren’t driving, he’d turn his head and glare at her softly.
.
“Tickets for two,” Bucky held up his fingers for the woman behind the glass to see. He slid the money across the small counter. She blushed at his side, holding his arm. She knew he had money, but seeing him always spend it on her so easily got her flustered.
He guided her to the concession stand where he bought them a small bucket of popcorn- mostly for her, he barely cared for it. She was buzzing with excitement as they entered the theater.
“You spoil me, you know?” She whispered as they took their seats.
“Oh I know,” he grinned, his blue eyes bright in the dark theater.
“A gentleman isn’t so cheeky about it, though,” she pinched his arm.
“But a gentleman does buy his favorite girl snacks. I have good and bad, don’t I?” He set the bucket of popcorn in her lap.
She was thankful for the darkness of the theater, so he couldn’t see her warm red cheeks. “I’m your favorite?”
“My only,” he whispered, as the music of the film began. He slid his hand into hers again, interlocking their fingers.
She bit back her smile, turning her attention to the screen.
.
After parking outside her apartment, Bucky tugged her away from the front door. At first she was confused, but he proposed they take a quick stroll.
She followed after him with a smile, holding him close by the arm. “It was a beautiful movie, don’t you think? I just loved the music.” She gushed.
“It was nice,” he hummed, looking up at the night sky. “Would you fall for it? A scarred, masked man?” He glanced at her.
“Mm, I wonder,” she pondered, spinning to stand in front of him. She held her hands up in front of his face. She squinted in thought, watching him snicker. “Maybe,” she surmised as he wrapped his hands around her wrists and lowered them. “Depends how mysterious he is.”
“Am I mysterious enough?”
“Oh, not nearly.”
He clicked his tongue, mock offended.
“And you? If I was all scarred, forced to wear a mask and hide away, would you still long for me?” She asked, stepping closer to him. His hands fell to her waist.
“I’d long for you no matter the cause.” He muttered, glancing at her lips.
She rested her palms on his chest. “Oh yeah? What if I had no hair?”
He traced his finger along her cheek, then tucked a stray curl behind her ear. “I’d think no different.”
“What if I were blind?” She closed her eyes, biting back her smile.
“I’d get to observe you freely, without worrying you’d catch me.”
A laugh bubbled in her chest as she looked at him again. “That could sound ominous, if I didn’t know you.”
“Mysterious, even?” He grinned.
“Nope,” she smacked her red lips together. “Just ominous. Maybe you are the phantom, a voyeur, watching me from close and afar.” She whispered, leaning close.
He scoffed, rolling his eyes. “You’d never know. I’m too good at keeping my secrets.”
“I’ll pry them out of you one day. You could never hide anything from me for long.”
“So you say.” He grinned, glancing between her lips and pretty eyes.
She gasped dramatically. “Are you hinting that you have secrets I don’t know about?”
“Perhaps,” he whispered.
“Tell me!” She insisted, giggling as he suddenly pulled out of her space. She slipped her arm around his as he began walking them back to her apartment. “Oh please?”
He shook his head. “I have to work on being mysterious, you said so yourself.”
“Oh you can be mysterious to everyone else. I must know.” She insisted, chuckling.
“Not a chance. I’ll have to wait, confess my darkness near the end of the story.” He guided her up the front steps and towards her door.
“Any point in life could be the end of your story, mister Barnes. Might as well spill your secrets now.”
“I’m not going anywhere, doll.” He chuckled, bringing her knuckles to his lips.
“You say that now. You’ll regret this when nobody knows your mighty secrets.” She blushed, watching him kiss the soft skin of her hands.
“You know all the best about me, that's all I care about. And you, miss? Any dark secrets you’re dying to confess?”
She shrugged, busying her hands with adjusting his collar. “A few, but a woman should always have a few secrets for herself.”
“How contradicting.”
She smiled, stepping closer. “They say that's the perfect way to describe a woman.”
He shook his head slowly, staring down at her. “I’d describe you differently.”
“And how's that?”
“Perfect,” he whispered, a warm pink tinting the tips of his ears. She grinned up at him, brushing his jaw with her gentle touch. She leaned up on her tiptoes and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. She pretended not to notice the way he chased the touch when she pulled back.
“Thank you for tonight, Bucky.” She whispered.
He nodded, his thumb rubbing circles on her hips. “I’d do it every night if I could.”
She chuckled, stepping back to open her front door. “If only,” she agreed. She paused, hand on the doorknob. “Goodnight, Bucky.”
“Goodnight sweetheart.”
Music wafted around them softly as Bucky held her close. Couples around them laughed, giggling into eachothers spaces. Bucky hummed softly to the lyrics, his palm sweeping down her back.
“I love this song.” She whispered against his shoulder, the gentle tune of I love how you love me by Bobby Vinton surrounding them.
“Oh yeah?” He muttered, looking down at her.
“Mhm,” she smiled raking her nails gently through the short hairs on the back of his neck.
Bucky’s eyes fluttered closed, a soft sigh leaving his chest. He leaned into her touch, her fingers dancing along his skin. His thumbs pressed gently into her waist as he guided their slow sway.
He opened his eyes to see her watching him. His lips tugged into a lopsided grin. “Let me take you home.” He whispered.
“Yeah?” She muttered breathlessly.
“Yeah.”
“Okay.” She nodded. “Take me home.”
They were slow on their stroll, enjoying the feeling of the summer night air against their skin. They took their time, arms around one another as they pointed at the stars, picking out the brightest ones to name.
There was no rush.
There was just each other.
So when her front door finally unlocked, and she beckoned him inside, he felt at peace. At home.
A single lamp by the door flickered to life as she clicked it on, shedding her purse and scarf on the nearest chair. She glanced at the man over her shoulder.
“Help me with my necklace?”
He smiled to himself, stepping into her space, her back against his chest. She plucked her earrings free as he busied his fingers with the clasp of her pearls.
Bucky laid out the necklace on the vanity at their side, then traced his fingers along the column of her neck. He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to the exposed skin of her shoulder. She sighed, rolling her head to the side subtly.
Bucky smiled to himself, dragging his lips and peppering small kisses in their wake along her throat. His hand slipped into her hair, tugging her pretty ribbon free, letting it flutter to the floor.
She let him shower her in gentle affection, leaning back into him as his hands met her hips. She tilted her head to the side, catching his lips with her own. He hummed quietly into her mouth, warm and familiar.
She shivered as his touch ghosted along the fabric of her back.
He pulled back, his lips brushing her ear, his breath warm.
“Let me, please?” He whispered, his finger toying with the zipper of her dress.
She shuddered, nodding slowly.
The zipper made a light buzzing sound as it released, dragging down her back. The warm air of her apartment felt fresh and prickling against her naked skin.
Bucky’s warm palms slid over her shoulders, guiding the dress to fall at her feet. He released a sharp breath against her neck as he looked down at her.
She turned her blushing gaze to look back at him, over her shoulder.
“Oh sweetheart,” he whispered, turning her by the hips. Her hands found his chest. He pressed a soft kiss to her lips, then to her jaw, letting his lips travel down her neck. To her shock, he slowly sank to his knees before her.
Her breath stuck in her chest as she watched him, slipping his thumbs beneath her stockings.
He looked up at her, bright blue eyes, pretty pink lips, dark swept hair. He guided her tights down her thighs, his calluses raising shivers along her skin.
He traced a path down to her knees in kisses, his lips ticklish in the way they gently pressed into her.
He slipped her heels from her feet, letting them clatter to the side.
“Oh, Bucky,” she gasped breathlessly as he swept his tongue along her hip, just above her panties.
“Let me take care ‘f you, sweetheart.” He muttered, his voice sounding deep against her body.
“Okay,” she nodded. “Okay.”
When he finally shed his layers, standing before her naked and purely him, her breath hitched in her throat. He didn’t give her the time to worship how he did, as he guided her body back against the bed.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, spreading her knees to make room for himself.
She shivered, his palms dragging patterns up her stomach and over her bare chest. She arched into it, his name falling from her lips.
He groaned, leaning back over her. “So pretty, doll.” He slipped his fingers into his mouth, leaving his lips shiny and wet as he moved them between her legs.
She shuddered at the first touch of him, warm and familiar, and so distinctly Bucky. “Bucky-” she moaned, wrapping her arms around his neck.
“‘M right here, doll.” He kissed along her jaw, working her open with his slow hands.
She panted, dragging her fingers down his stomach to where he was aching. He shuddered, his head dropping to her shoulder as she wrapped her fingers around him. “So good, Bucky…” she whispered.
He groaned into her neck, pulling his hands from between her legs. His tongue swept across her throat. He pulled back.
He looked so pretty above her, cheeks flushed, lips wet, hair a mess. And those eyes. Oh those eyes.
“Let me make you feel good, pretty.” He brushed his thumb across her lips. She nodded, kissing his thumbprint. A lopsided grin sparked his expression as he dove down to kiss her.
She giggled against him, raising her knees around his hips.
His hand pushed between them, aligning himself. She smiled into his kiss, their foreheads pressed together.
“I love you,” he choked, rolling his hips into her. His hand found hers, fingers locking together.
She gasped, her eyes fluttering as she curled a hand in his hair. She hiccupped, blinking through tears as she rocked her hips against him. “I love you too.”
“You’re enlisting?” The words had reality setting in on her all too quickly. Like a bucket of ice water thrown over her head. The war had been raging on for a long time, taking its toll on the world and her daily life.
She’d been called to the workforce, given an option of ways she could support her country as the men were called to battle. She’d taken her pick of chasing after something she’d long given up. She worked with other women, building engines for fighter planes and military vehicles. It was hard work, but she felt passion growing in her every time she went to work.
It was hard to ignore the war, doing what she did, but she did her best. If she thought about it for too long, the anxiety would set in. The past grief of losing her father to the military, the fear for the future, and now, the dread of what would become of her favorite person alive.
Bucky nodded, taking his hands in hers. “I’ve already applied-”
“And you didn’t tell me first?” She wanted to pull back, hurt clear on her face.
“I’m sorry-” he stepped closer, rubbing his thumb over her knuckle. “I just- I didn’t want you to talk me out of it.”
“I-” she stopped herself, lowering her gaze to the floor between them. She couldn’t deny that she would have begged him not to. She nodded slowly. “When?”
“Not for a while, I need to train first. But after that, they’ll be shipping me off immediately, I assume.”
She swore at herself internally for the tears that burned behind her eyes. Why was she being so dramatic? This didn’t have to mean forever. It didn’t have to mean the end.
“Sweetheart, look at me, please.” He begged, his warm hand cupping her cheek. She slowly lifted her gaze to his. His expression softened, a sigh leaving his lips. “It’s gonna be okay, sugar.” He whispered, pulling her into a hug. “I’ll be okay. I’m good when I listen, even better when I try. I’ll be okay.”
She buried her face in his chest, clutching at his back. She nodded slowly. “Will you write to me?”
“Every damn day,” he whispered into her hair.
“Promise you’ll be careful?”
He nodded. “Of course, there’s no way I’m staying away for longer than I have to. Not when I have you waiting on me.”
Her stomach flipped at his direct words. She blinked away the tears in her eyes and nuzzled closer to his chest. She took a moment to listen to the sound of his chest rising and falling with breath. He was alive, and he would stay that way. He had to. “Does Steve know?”
He nodded. “He won’t quit trying to enlist with me.”
She pulled back, her hands on his waist. “He won’t give up, you know.” She lifted a brow. “That man has the heart of a lion.”
Bucky smiled, his own chest swelling with affection for the woman who loved his best friend with such intensity. “I know, but there’s other ways to help.”
“I could say the same thing to you.” She poked his chest. He caught her hand, his smile softening.
“Too late.”
“Clearly.”
The train station smelled of smoke and oil.
Children cried from the sidelines, clinging to their fathers as they said goodbye. Carts of luggage rolled past. Brothers and friends cheered as they waved to each other, boarding the train.
She couldn't focus on any of it.
Bucky's lips pressed against hers, bruising and warm. His strong hands pressed against her lower back, curled in her hair. She trembled in his arms, hair nails biting into the green of his uniform.
He pulled back, his forehead resting against hers. His breath trembled against her skin.
"I'll be seeing you," she whispered, caressing his jaw.
He nodded against her, his lips twitching up. "I'll be back before you know it."
"You better." She huffed.
When he slipped from her fingers, moving towards the train as soldiers called, announcing final boarding, she felt her heart go with him. She tried not to cry. She didn't want to cry. She wanted him to remember her smiling.
He was only leaving for training. This didn't mean forever. But it felt like it.
He watched her from the window. He shoved it open and stuck his head out. "I mean it doll, I'm coming back for you." He shouted, a toothy grin flashing.
She shook her head at him, holding back a teary laugh. She stumbled forward, reaching up to catch his hand. "Sergeant Barnes, you better write me every damn day."
She wished she could reach him further. She wished she could pull him back into her arms.
He huffed, squeezing her fingers. The train blared, signaling its soon departure. He looked up to the cop patrolling the station. "Hey man, help me out here?" He shouted.
She glanced back, the large officer approaching her with a huff. She could guess he'd been doing this all day. She yelped as he lifted her from beneath the arms and boosted her up to the window.
Bucky leaned out further, his palms sliding along her jaw. He captured her lips in a desperate kiss, a desperate goodbye. She swallowed a choked whimper, her fingers curling in his hair.
"I love you, baby." He whispered against her lips.
She nodded, blinking away tears. "I love you too."
She wiped the back of her hand against the scarf in her hair, blue paint making her fingers sticky. The air smelled of oil and metal, the sounds of drills and shifting propellers causing a ruckus of noise.
She was slow and precise as she painted out the American insignia along the wing of a plane in the works.
“Have you taken a break yet, ma’am?” A familiar voice called to her from behind. She nearly dropped her brush when she saw him.
“What are you doing here?” She laughed, setting the paint can on the floor. She jogged up to him, wrapping him in a quick hug as he lifted her off the ground.
“What, I can’t come visit my best girl?” He grinned, setting her back on the ground.
She swatted his arm, pulling back to look at him clearly. He looked just the same, tall, charming, and handsome. She last saw him three months ago, when he received his first leave to visit home since he started training. “No, you can’t, not unless-” her smile dropped.
His expression turned shy and guilty.
“You’ve finished your training?”
He nodded, his warm hands rubbing gentle circles on her waist. “Came here straight away. I wanted to see you.”
She cupped his face, cradling him in her touch. “So you’re leaving then? Do you know where?”
“They’re shipping me off to Europe in two days time.”
She swallowed the lump in her throat. “Wait here,” she pulled back.
He laughed in shock. “Where are you going?”
“To ask if I can leave early. You’re not leaving until you give me a dance first.”
.
Rain hailed down from the sky with vengeance, like God was warning her of future hardships. She peaked through her curtains, her stomach twisting. “I guess we aren’t going out tonight, are we?” She muttered, glancing back at Bucky, where he stood in her living room.
The man was sifting through her records, picking one out. “That doesn’t have to change anything.”
She watched as he set the record on her record player. The music clicked on, filling the small apartment with warmth. He held his hand out to her expectantly. “Come here.”
She softened at the sight of him, gentle and sweet. She took his hand and allowed him to lead them into a slow sway. She rested her cheek against his chest, her eyes sliding closed. He hummed softly, his fingers tapping against her waist.
She wanted them to stay in that moment forever, suspended in intimacy. She didn’t care what it looked like to other people, a man and woman, unmarried, dancing in her apartment. She didn’t care that she was different, or that he was different. She didn’t care that he had to leave, and that there was a war raging on outside.
She just wanted to be with him.
“Do you remember when I helped you move?” His voice broke the soft silence, melting together with the music. She nodded into his chest.
“How could I not? The way you came crashing into everything.” She chuckled softly.
“You make me sound like some rambunctious kid.” He huffed.
“Oh, well that's because you are.” She giggled.
“I beg to differ,” he denied.
“Oh really? You’re all grown up now then, I guess?”
“Mhm, big and strong.” He smiled down at her, that familiar charm oozing from his very being.
“Sergeant Barnes,” she said the title, trying to get comfortable with the word. “Very grown indeed.” It felt bitter sweet on her tongue.
He softened, rubbing his hand down her back as they swayed. “I’ll be okay.” He whispered.
She nodded, sliding her arms around his neck. “Promise you won’t change?”
He shrugged cheekily, “maybe, who knows? I might come back with a mustache and a German accent.” He teased.
She rolled her eyes at him. “I’d leave you high and dry,” she huffed.
“No you wouldn’t.”
“No,” she sighed, “I wouldn’t.”
They stared at each other for a long moment, letting the music fill the loaded silence between them. He brushed his thumb along her cheekbone, and she realized his hands felt rougher. Calloused from hard training.
“Promise you’ll still love me?”
“There’s nothing in the world that could change that, doll.” He told her, his blue eyes sharp in the warm lamp light of her living room. “Nothing.”
“Promise you’ll come back to me?”
“I promise.”
Dear Y/n,
We have made it safely to Italy. It’s quite beautiful here, I think you would like it. I already feel my chest aching when I think of you. I miss you dearly. When I return home, I will take you to a nice Italian restaurant and tell you about all the words I’ve learned here.
Yours,
J. Bucky Barnes
★
Dear Y/n,
I’ve been doing a lot of thinking of our future, and honey I quite like it. I can picture nights in your arms, lulled to sleep under the melody of your voice. Until then, I’ll dream of you, and tell stories of your eccentric soul. The boys shame me for not bringing a pair of your pantyhose with me, I’ll have to remember it for later.
Yours,
J. Bucky Barnes
★
Dear Y/n,
I’d give my left arm to be with you right now. I guess I’m really in love with you doll, in fact beyond the guessing stage, it’s a fact. I love you very very much, darling, and will be the happiest guy in the country when you are Mrs. Barnes. I miss you every day.
Yours,
J. Bucky Barnes
She had to make a choice. Blood, or metal. It wasn’t something she thought she’d have to weigh when she was a child, but it was something she was now faced with.
Since Bucky’s deployment, she spent her time working hard on the machines she was tasked with repairing and manufacturing. She was taking Red Cross training on her weekends, as recommended by the Sergeants running her warehouse. Almost all the women were.
It meant a constant stick of needles in her arms, and a constant stench of blood. There were days when she was run out of the warehouse, ordered to pursue her duties as a healer of sorts.
She didn’t much enjoy it.
In fact, she detested it. Having to be faced with the reality of how violent this war was just made her sick. It made her afraid. It made her dread each letter she received, fearing one would read condolences about her long time lover.
“Steve?” The woman gaped at the hulking form sitting at the bar. “It really… geez.”
The blonde turned around, a bright smile on his face as he saw the girl. “Hi,” his voice was still soft and timid, a far contrast from his new body. He wrapped her in a quick hug before gesturing for her to join him.
“I mean, look at you!” She laughed, feeling meek under his broad form. “Did it hurt?” She muttered, poking him in the arm.
“A bit.” He chuckled.
“Shouldn’t you have stretch marks, or something? I’d think your skin would tear open around all… that.” She gestured at him. The bartender came over and took her order. She had a martini, extra olives.
He bit back a snicker. “I thought so too- but I guess not. Most of the technical talk went right over my head.” He took a swig from his cup.
She bit into an olive once her glass was set before her. “It’s quite impressive.” She nodded. She took a moment to really take him in, and all the things that had changed in just a few months. He still had that boyish smile, his top lip disappearing against his teeth. He had that soft gaze, still nervous to look people in the eyes. But he was different.
Something beyond the physical.
He was changed by what had happened to him, by what he was capable of. “How are you?” She muttered, glancing down at her drink. She stirred the clear liquid with her toothpick, her lip tucked between her teeth as she thought of all that changed.
“I don’t know.” He admitted. “It all feels-” he let out a heavy sigh. “I should be out there. With him.”
She nodded, feeling that bittersweet roll of her stomach every time she thought of him. It had only been a few months, but it felt like eternity. They went from seeing eachother once a week, holding each other in their arms, to a letter every now and then.
“How do you think he’s doing?”
He huffed, his lips curling in a laugh. “I think he’s doing just fine. He’s too stubborn to die.”
She snickered, sipping on her drink. “Now that I can agree.”
.
“Oh come on! You have to ask her out, Steve!” She gasped, slapping at her friend's shoulder.
He shook his head, his cheeks flushed pink. “We’re in the middle of war. She’s- she’s busy. I barely even see her now, with the tour and all.”
“Oh yes, the tour.” She waved her hand. “But like you said, we’re in the middle of a war. There's no time to wait around.” She grinned over the lip of her glass.
He rolled his eyes at the girl. “You are one to talk, hon.” He squinted at her. “Everyone around us is running to the chapel in the wake of battle. Why aren’t you?” He raised a brow at her.
She blinked at him, her cheeks flushing red. “Steve!” She laughed nervously. “You can’t exactly head to the chapel alone.”
“You know what I’m talking about. Why didn’t you two do it? Before he left?”
She felt stiff, her stomach twisting. She stared at the chipped wood of the bar. “I don’t know, really.” She muttered, her chest feeling sore. “I do wish-” she huffed, slapping a hand over her eyes. “We wanted to wait, you see? I knew he wanted to enlist, and he knew how hard it would be. We wanted to wait until he was home for good.”
Thinking back on it now, she wished she would have dragged him to the chapel years ago. She wished she would have slipped a ring on his finger and planted a kiss on those pink lips long ago.
“Don’t wait, Steve. Just don’t.”
She, much to her own shock, was deployed. Not as a soldier, but as a medic and mechanic. The Red Cross was tasked with touring Europe, giving blood and aid wherever they could. She didn’t think she would be asked, but with her experience building and repairing engines, they decided she would be a rather nice asset.
She wrote to Bucky, informing him of her shocking travels, hoping to hear from him before she left. The sad fact was that she hadn’t heard from him in weeks. The reality of that set her skin on fire, but she always took a moment to remind herself that no news is good news. An empty mailbox also meant there wasn’t a condolence letter waiting on her.
She wanted to write to Steve, but he was also on tour. Traveling the country- and even Europe- to uplift the spirits of the masses. So with only a few dear goodbyes to loved ones still back home, she set off to Europe.
After only a few days, she found herself in Azzano Italy. She felt excitement buzzing in her veins at the thought of being in the same place as Bucky again.
He took a piece of her heart with him when he left, and it now ached to seal that hole.
Much to her dismay, the 107th infantry regiment wasn’t likely to just be sitting back at the base. They were gone, fighting a war that seemed impossible to end.
She thought she would feel better, being so close- knowing he could return any day. But she was so deeply wrong. She spent her days in a stained tent, staunching wounds with her bare hands, begging death not to take another good man.
She was faced with the most raw reality of the war. And suddenly she dreaded seeing Bucky. She feared seeing his beaten face be dragged onto a table before her, bleeding and dying right before her eyes.
In her moments of reprieve, she found herself growing close with the infamous Peggy Carter. She was the only woman in the base that had a position of power. She held herself with a steady confidence, unafraid to put a doubtful man in their place. She was so deeply kind to the woman, though. Which she was beyond grateful for.
She always made sure to bite back her grin whenever Peggy asked about Steve. She wished she could scold the boy for not writing to the woman sooner. She always said as much.
Everything was wrong.
Everything was wet, soaked in mud, and rain, and blood.
Body after body was dragged into her tent. The screams of men pierced her ears, rattling in her bones.
One, two, seven, eighteen, twenty nine, the numbers kept growing- but not enough.
Not enough.
She searched the faces desperately, her fingers stained with the blood of dozens as she sifted through bodies.
He wasn’t there.
He wasn’t with them.
He wasn’t dead, but he wasn’t alive.
He was just gone.
She collapsed into soft mud and threw up everything in her stomach.
She could hear the women singing from her tent at the center of the base. She couldn’t bring herself to move from her cot. Was it Steve? She wondered, she wished, she prayed. But she just couldn’t move. Her body felt devoid of life.
It had been days.
It had been an eternity since news came of the ambush.
It had been a lifetime since she saw him.
She was on the verge of being shipped home, the nerves and grief weighing her down so heavily she could barely focus. She spent every waking moment on her feet, tending to the dying. And when she wasn’t doing that, she was doing everything she could not to get sick- sobbing so heavily that her throat closed around dry heaves.
She searched for his face everywhere she looked.
He was never there.
“Y/n?” The familiar voice had the woman stumbling on her feet, blood soaked hands wiping hair from her face.
“Steve.” She gaped at the man, her eyes welling up with tears. “Oh, Stevie,” she whimpered, falling into him. “Steve, he-”
“I know, I know.” He whispered, rubbing a fast hand along her back. “But listen, I’m going to find him, okay? I’m going after the 107th.”
The words felt like a fantasy to her ears. Like a far fetched dream- one only Steve could cook up. She looked up at him, her brows knit together deeply. “But-”
“I’m going.” His voice was quick and hard, like he was afraid she may try to stop him. “I have to- I-I have to.”
“You have to,” she whispered, clutching the dark green coat he wore. “You- I have to know.” She tried to steady the shake in her voice. “I can’t take not knowing.” Looking to the side, she wiped her cheek on her shoulder. “I need to- I need to know…”
“I’m leaving tonight,” he set a familiar hand on her shoulder. “Be safe, okay?”
She smiled wryly up at the large man. “Back at you.”
The sounds of men cheering from afar broke the silent prayer the woman was whispering over her cot. Her whole body went rigid, her blood ran cold.
They were back.
She nearly tripped over the opening of her tent as she scrambled outside. They had been gone two days at most, but it felt like an eternity. It felt like her own world was slowly crumbling around her. Like the truth was slowly chasing her down.
A truth she couldn’t bear.
A truth so sick, so deeply wretched, it might destroy her.
A truth she was coming to slowly accept.
But then she saw him.
Standing there, beside a man dressed in the flag of freedom, was the love of her life.
Dirty, bruised, beaten and bloody, but alive.
Alive.
Her feet carried her the rest of the way, her mind taking time to catch up. His name left her lips in a cry, desperate for this to be real. Sharp blue eyes met hers, the set of his jaw loosening.
A sob left her throat as she threw herself at him- a rifle jabbing into her chest between them. She wrapped her arms tightly around his neck, pulling him so close he was almost one with her.
The rifle fell at their feet.
Arms wrapped tightly around her waist, lifting her feet from the mud. She sobbed freely into his collar, her fingers curling in his hair. He whispered into her shoulder, his voice ragged and tired.
He repeated her name, chanting it like a prayer.
“You’re here- you’re here…”
She only noticed it then, but he was trembling. He swayed on his feet, holding her firm to his body. The sickening thought of what he may have endured crossed her mind. “You’re alive-” She cried, tears mixing with the sweat on his neck.
The men around the couple whooped and hollered, cheering for a very singular type of victory. A very foreign one. One of love.
He lowered her slightly to stand on her own, his body slumping against hers; he longed desperately to fall into her, to find peace in her arms. She petted his hair, pressing soft kisses to his temple. “You’re okay…you’re okay…”
The train ride to England was spent in quiet whispers and gentle bandaging. The woman helped her wounded soldier into a cabin, helping him ease onto his seat. The adrenaline rush that had kept him running for so long was slowly fizzing out, and it was wearing on him.
She knelt before him, a medics bag at her side.
Finally alone, she held his face in her hands, her thumb gently caressing his bruised cheek. His bruising looked peculiar to her eye, oddly but specifically shaped. She traced the purple lines.
“I thought…” She swallowed, her voice cracking in the silence. He looked up at her through his lashes, his posture hunched. “I thought I lost you.”
He pressed into her touch, his palm covering hers. “I know,” he was weak, tired, and in pain, but he relished this moment with her. “I thought I was dead…”
Her heart ached in her chest, ideas of what he endured torturing her. “What…What happened?” She traced her knuckles along the soft part of his cheek.
He shook his head slowly, shivering as memories flashed behind his eyelids. “I don’t know.” He started, leaning closer to her. “I was out of it- they gave me something. It felt like fire in my veins.” He swallowed, staring down at his hands in his lap. She realized he was afraid of what they’d done. Maybe it was poison. Maybe something else.
She nodded, gently petting his face. “We’ll fix it. Whatever it is, we’ll fix it.”
He glanced up at her through his lashes, his lip bitten between his teeth. He returned her soft nod, turning to press his lips to her palm.
She leaned up on her knees to pull him into a soft hug, rubbing her hand down his back. He rested against her shoulder.
She watched the world pass by outside the window, pine trees wheezing by in a flurry of green.
“You joined the Red Cross.” He muttered against her shoulder, his voice soft.
“Mhm,” she hummed, raking her nails up his neck. “Didn’t have much of a choice at first. But I’m so glad I did,” she pressed her lips to his hair.
He pulled back, cupping her face in his large palms. “I love you so much,” he whispered, pressing soft kisses to her lips. She let out a shaky breath, pressing closer. In the back of her mind, she could barely remember the last time they really kissed. He was always so gentle with her. She loved that about him.
But this moment, this kiss, it wasn’t even really about the act. It was about intimacy. The closeness. The feeling of being real under each other's touch. It was about feeling his breath against her face, about feeling the warmth of his tongue. It was about knowing he’s alive, he’s okay, and he’s with her.
She pulled back, her forehead resting against his. “I love you so much.”
“You’re going back?” The lighthearted air between the group fizzled away, leaving a trail of awkwardness in its wake. She stared at the group of men, her heart rate picking up steadily.
She stood quickly, rattling the table, and stumbled away.
She heard Steve call after them as Bucky followed her. “Y/n,” Bucky chased her, catching her wrist once they were alone.
She spun back to face him, slapping her hands against his chest. “How could you not tell me?” She tried to keep her voice steady.
“I-”
“I mean- how could you? Why would you go back? After everything Steve did to get you back? After what happened- after what you went through?” She interrupted, her shaking hands tangling in her hair. “Why, Bucky, why?”
He gently took her wrists, leaning down to catch her eyes. “Hey, look at me- hey,” his voice lowered, softening around the edges. “That's why I have to do it, baby. I can’t-” he gulped. “I can’t let them do it alone. I can’t let Steve do this alone.”
She blinked through the tears gathering in her eyes, trying desperately to ignore the sickness swirling in her gut. “I can’t do that again, Bucky.”
“I know-”
“We-” she gasped, tilting her head back, trying to keep the tears at bay. “We were supposed to get married.”
He gently took her face in hand, his brows knit together. “We will.” He promised. “There isn’t a thing in this life that could stop me from making you mine.”
“Except death,” she whispered, leaning into his thumb as it swept away her tears.
“I’ll have Steve this time, okay? I’ll have a super soldier having my back, sweetheart.” He smiled. “I’m coming home.”
She wanted to believe him. She wanted to have faith in him and his men, in Steve. But she felt this gnawing, gut wrenching feeling that if she let him go, he would never come back. But she also knew, there was no stopping the thick headed man. Not when Steve was involved.
“I can’t stop you,” she accepted. “I know I can’t.” He watched her sadly, silent- knowing he wouldn’t deny it. “I chose a man who would never back down, didn’t I? It’s all my fault.” She huffed.
He smiled gently, wrapping her in his arms. “All your fault.”
“What?”
The words- short and quiet, whispered, like they were too awful to say- stuck into her skin like needles.
“He-” Peggy cleared her throat, voice raw and eyes red. “They didn’t make it.”
Slow, like time had stopped just to elongate that moment, she felt her heart clench in her chest.
Something cold and dark swirled in her veins, numbing her body. “They didn't-” Her voice broke, her chest restricting. She couldn’t say it. She couldn’t.
It was wrong.
It was all wrong. None of this could be real, it just couldn’t.
“It was reported that he- he took Captain Roger’s shield and fired at the enemy. He was protecting Rogers.” Peggy’s expression was cold, like she too was trying not to cry. “The side of the train was blown open. Barnes- he just…”
“Don't-” that name. Oh god, his name.
It couldn’t be real. It wasn’t. It just wasn’t.
Everything in her swayed, her breath coming in quick pants as she tried to steady herself. “He-” Tears burned behind her eyes, coming too quick to blink away. She couldn’t breathe.
She couldn’t think.
He was gone.
She pressed her hand to her chest, hard and rough, hitting the center of her breasts. She was shaking, moving in denial. She needed to breathe, she needed to stop the ache- the tight twisting and twisting of her lungs and heart.
It was all wrong
She was sobbing now, wet streaks burning cold against her heated skin. She couldn’t feel anything as her body hit the floor. Not the cold concrete. Not the torn skin of her knees. Not the concerned touch of Peggy.
Nothing but the all consuming grief that suffocated her.
A/N: Whew! I put it all in one for this one. This is one of my very favorite works I've ever done! I have a soft place in my heart for 1940s Bucky. Also yes I do have a part 2 where she ends up in the future and he sees her again and its sad as fuck (As I do)
Before all the trauma, or in a world without it, he's just a shy boy. Usually, he would call himself confident, attractive, self assured. But not when it comes to you.
You bring out something different in him. Something shy, something warm and soft. The sight of you makes his knees weak. His breath comes in short pants- because suddenly he's so aware of himself.
Just act normal, man, come on. Don't be weird. Do I look nice?- oh god, look at her laugh. Is she laughing at what I said? I hope so.
He'd be the type to shift on his feet around you, just a little uncomfortable, because he wants to present himself just right for you. He tries to think of all the right things to say, all the right ways to make you smile. To make you feel safe.
Bucky yearning is a whole different beast. He cares so deeply it's almost painful. It's a feeling that consumes him.
And if he can't have you? If something is in the way, a situation, a boyfriend, a family member, a friendship- it kills him.
He loves from afar, but so so deeply. He remembers all the stupid small things you say. He is always searching for a reason to talk about you, to think about you, to be near you.
You're intoxicating to him. And yeah, maybe he smiles a little too hard at the smallest things you say, laughs too deep, blushes a little too bright. But he can't help it. It's you.
He loves getting you alone. Maybe it's during a large get together, or walking you home from a night out with friends. But the moment he gets you to himself, his heart is thundering in his chest. He carries your bag, risks a step too close, and stares openly. Maybe you notice, maybe you don't.
A part of him wishes you would. He kind of wants you to catch him, to call him out on it- because if you don't, he might just sink in the pool of longing he feels for you. He might just drown in it.
He can't think of a better way to die.
Until one night you hug him, arms tight around his shoulders. It's just a goodbye, a closing gesture of the night. But he drinks it up. He holds you close to his body, his hands careful and precise on your back. Your warmth makes him blush.
The brush of your breath against his neck as you laugh- that makes his stomach erupt in butterflies. He has to force himself to let you go, his hands finding purchase in his pockets, awkward and just a little nervous.
And then he watches you leave. He watches your silhouette disappear down the street, his skin still tingling from your touch.
This is the censored version, because just out of frame is some real crazy shit. If anyone wants, I’ll post it on my Bucky twitter and link it. Anyways, hope yall enjoy.
Guys…should I write a time travel 40s Bucky fic? Like a going back to save him fic…..
Maybe not before the train, but even after it. He’s just gotten the metal arm. Can’t sleep. Can’t tell what’s reality and what’s just a haze of pain. But reader has to shift through time to infiltrate 40/50s hydra to save him 🤓
