It’s Been A Long, Long Time
40s!Bucky X OC
Bucky X Reader
Fluff/Angst
Plot: Bucky Barnes falls in love with the most amazing girl he had ever met in the 1940s shortly before being deployed to war. Now, in the 21st century, he knows that he will never see her again, and isn’t sure if he will ever love, or could love ever again. But one day, he runs into you...Her complete doppelganger.
NOTE: Can we pretend that the song ‘It’s Been A Long, Long Time’ came out earlier in the 40s than in 1945? Okay, thanks.
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Bucky
I got the news. The inevitable.
I was to be deployed in a week.
It wasn't a shock in any way, shape, or form to me. I knew that it was a matter of time before we had orders sent to us. It was what I signed up for.
But to Zelda? It hit her like a tidal wave.
When I told her, she was speechless. The only thing that she could do was sob in my arms.
I did the best I could to comfort her; to look into her hazel eyes and brush the tears away from her rosy cheeks, and tell her that everything was going to be okay. But there was nothing I could do to convince her.
“Please don’t go,” she sobbed as she wrapped her arms around my torso tighter and tighter. She held on as though the sheer force of her grip could take it all away. To outweigh orders. To end the war.
And for a moment...I hoped that it could.
“I’m sorry, love,” I whispered on the top of her head.
Oh God, how I would miss her. How I'd miss the sweet smell of her perfume; or how her dark chocolate-brown hair bounced when she shook her head. And I would especially miss the way her beautiful face would illuminate when she smiled. That smile alone could launch a thousand ships.
And despite the desperate tears and sadness written all over her face, she was still the most beautiful girl I had ever seen.
It may have been a month since I met her at the front of a Brooklyn café, but I was sure that I loved her. Part of me thought, or rather…hoped that she felt the same. Maybe it didn’t matter at this point.
But I hoped that it did.
“What am I going to do without you?” she asked pulling away to attempt to compose herself.
“We can still write,” I suggested, hoping that she wouldn't suddenly get angry with me for having to leave her. And I wanted to reassure her that I still wanted her in my life.
“You promise?” she sniffled, wiping her face.
How could she ask me that question?
Did she not know about the absolute torture I would be feeling to not see that smile every day? To hear that laugh? Or the sound of her sweet, and kind voice?
“So we have a week, right?” She asked putting herself together. The slight tremble in her voice indicated that she was suppressing the need to cry with all of her might.
“We do.”
...
We spent our last few days…the last few moments that we could possibly have together running around Brooklyn. She took me to her favorite parks; I took her to my favorite restaurants, and she showed me her favorite bookstore. When we arrived, she grabbed a whole stack and bought all of them
before I even had a chance to see what she was doing as I browsed.
At the end of that particular day, she walked into my apartment and set the books on my bed telling me that they were actually for me.
They were books that she held so dearly to her heart, and she wanted me to have my very own copies so that I would think of her as I read every page, sentence, and word.
“Now you’ll know what to talk about when you write to me,” she stated.
I held that stack of books and told her that I couldn't wait to finish the whole stack. I would never forget the excitement that her smile held.
It was as though me reading those books while I was away was the equivalent to me taking a piece of her heart along with me. And in the best way possible, I was sure that I was.
On our last evening together she invited me to her place. It was a small, but beautiful space.
The walls were plain white, but to our right, there was an intricately decorated with a wall designated for artwork. Another wall was for her large bookshelf filled with a vast collection of books, and the other wall that wasn’t designated for her bed was where a record player stood next to an open chest filled with records. She always spoke about how much she loved music. When she decided to move into her place, her father passed on his collection to her.
She walked over to the record player and set the needle down to start the music. She then pulled me close to her so that we could dance.
“You have to dance with me to at least this song,” she ordered softly.
I unreservedly obliged.
We swayed, and held each other close listening to the lyrics that resonated so deeply between us.
‘Kiss me once, and kiss me twice, and kiss me once again; it’s been a long, long time.’
It was a beautiful song. One that I would play over and over again in my head thinking about this particular moment on our last evening together.
We spent more time talking with the music in the background and then would sporadically get back up to dance once again. Before we knew it, it was already one o’clock in the morning.
"Zelda, doll," I said with her head resting upon my chest.
“I think it’s time for me to go.”
She pulled away, and her face dropped faster than I had ever seen before. She carried pure fear in her eyes, and tears began to form rapidly.
“No,” she croaked.
“I know, love.”
She paused as though she were pondering something.
"Will you stay with me tonight?"
Her eyes expressed her plea more than her voice did.
“Zelda, I don’t know—”
"No, I don't mean...I didn't mean," she stuttered.
"I mean, I want to just...Not until you come back to me."
It wasn't.
I looked down into her big, teary eyes wondering how it was possible to say no.
I pulled her closer to me and kissed her tenderly.
“Okay,” I whispered against her soft, pink lips.
We went under the covers and wrapped our arms around each other. We were nothing but content laying silently under the blankets in a cocoon of body heat.
We were content with the calming sound of our symbiotic breaths. Content with the occasional soft kisses exchanged. Content with the new, but certain exchanges of the words ‘I love you’.
There was no denying what we felt about each other.
Before she faded away into a deep sleep, I whispered once again,
"Zelda. I love you."
And before she fell asleep she drowsily replied,
“I know.”
I would never forget that day.
You (Modern time).
You walked out of your favorite bookstore with a bag full of new books.
You really did feel some mild form of shame about the fact that you spent so much money that you didn’t really have on books. Especially on books that you had already read a million times, and could easily just get from the library for free.
But you could never deny that something was gratifying about owning it yourself.
You loved books; and when you meticulously set them on your bookshelf, they stood proudly like golden trophies. That, and you just loved that extra kick of dopamine your brain released whenever you added to your collection. You were basically a shopaholic for books…And music…And movies. Mostly books and movies.
As you walked down the streets of Brooklyn, you accidentally ran face-first into someone. Something that you guessed was pretty inevitable considering the fact that you were too busy looking down at your phone trying to find the next song to play on Spotify. (Oops).
He was tall, and since his torso was hard as a rock, you could tell that he was very muscular before even cautiously looking up at him.
You weren't sure what kind of reaction you were expecting. Maybe a, "Watch where you're going, bitch." Or a, "Fuck off." But what you weren't expecting was this down at you in an odd manner. Looking was actually a bit of an understatement. He was glaring.
"I'm sorry, I—" You attempted not to stutter, or look too intimidated.
This guy looked really tough. He was tall and had broad shoulders, had a light beard going on, and his hair was long enough to cover his ears. But he had these piercing blue eyes. Kind eyes.
Frankly, if it weren't for those eyes, you would be afraid that if you angered him enough, he would probably beat you up with a thumb.
But he wasn't angry. (Thank God.) He just seemed…Shocked? Like he was looking at a ghost.
You decided to reason that this guy was probably just hard to read, and he just thought you were some clumsy asshole.
“Zelda?” He asked. (Definitely recognition. But in a crazy person way.)
‘Who the hell is Zelda?’ you thought to yourself.
And why did he think that Zelda was your name?
"I…Who?" You stuttered, still not knowing that to think about this him.
“I’m sorry, I just…You look a lot like,”
“Zelda?” You interrupted, raising an eyebrow.
“I mean, I have no idea who she is, but she’s definitely not me.”
You tried your best not to sound like a bitch. You tended to come off that way to new ones.
"You must have me mistaken for someone else, my name's Y/N," you said, outstretching your hand to shake his.
He looked not quite convinced that you were telling the truth. (Like at all.)
You were starting to wonder if you had a twin that you were separated from at birth. Now your main concern was to have a stern talking-to with your parents.
Despite the impromptu interaction, you didn’t feel weird about it. Well, you felt weird about it, but not about him anymore. In fact, you felt oddly calm around this weirdo.
Maybe it was because he wasn’t looking at you like a creep, or like some fuckboy using that line as an excuse to get you into bed within the next two hours. His eyes expressed
shock, and awe all at the same time.
Honestly, you kind of felt bad that you weren’t Zelda. Zelda was a pretty cool, old, and elegant name if you could say so yourself. It made you think about Zelda Fitzgerald, the oh so troubled wife of F. Scott Fitzgerald.
"I'm sorry that I'm not her," you said sincerely still staring into those striking eyes that belonged to a man that looked nothing but broken.
“No, I mean it’s nowhere near your fault,” he replied.
“I’m sorry to bother you, uh, Y/N you said it was?”
You nodded.
“Yeah.”
“Well, I’ll let you get on with your day,” he said quickly.
When you both made your way in opposite directions, you realized that you didn't even get his name?
Did it matter? Why did you suddenly want to know?
Wow, Y/N nice going.
When you turned around, he was already gone.
You guessed that you would probably never know.
…
Okay, you had to know.
You could not stop thinking about him for whatever reason. Why could you not stop thinking about him?
You decided eventually to get proactive about it.
But you realized that it would be a little trickier than you would have liked it to be. It wasn't as though you crossed paths with him on some internet dating website and you could just look him up by name, or photo.
You rationalized that if he was around that area that one time, maybe you’d cross paths with him again if you just lingered around there at approximately the same time. He hardly seemed lost, so maybe he was familiar with the area. Well…From what you could gather. (You were too busy looking at your phone to truly notice those types of details.) Fortunately, your plan worked in your favor because you were off work by that time.
So, you spent a few afternoons hanging out in that one little area of Brooklyn. It wasn’t as though you hadn’t spent a lot of time there. You loved it. It hardly felt as though you changed anything with your routine. But because you were on the hunt, you just had to keep your eyes peeled for that someone.
There was a café down the street, a bookstore, a record store, and a beautiful live-show theatre. You spent countless hours and days in that little oasis not too far from your loft apartment.
On the third day, you finally spotted him. He sat alone in the outdoor dining area of that little café reading a book.
You walked up to the short gate that separated the café from the sidewalk right next to where he was.
“Well, well, well if it isn’t—”
You paused. You forgot that you didn't even get his name.
He jolted and turned to you. That same heart-melting look in his eyes came back the second he looked at you; accompanied with a warm smile. If you didn’t know better, you could have sworn that he might have been happy to see you.
“You like this place?” you asked.
“It’s been one of my favorites for a long time,” he replied warmly.
He then nonchalantly invited you to sit on the chair across from him. So, you stepped over the gate and sat yourself down.
He set his book down on the table.
'The Sound and the Fury'.
“That’s a good one,” you pointed out.
"I bought it yesterday. I'm almost halfway through it. A friend of mine suggested it."
You saw the way his face changed with that fondness in his eyes.
“Zelda?” you inquired.
You really wanted to smack yourself on the forehead for just blurting her name out like that. Who were you to presume the intimate parts of his life?
But he stayed calm. Not only that, but his lips started to curl into a little smile.
“So, who is this girl?” you asked.
You were pretty sure that you had legitimately proven yourself to be an idiot.
He raised an eyebrow.
"I mean if she looks so much like me to the point where you almost didn't believe I wasn't her, the least I could do is…Well…I don't know."
He looked somewhat amused. And you were pretty sure that he was just about as confused about your ramblings as you were.
“I’m sorry,” you apologized no longer wanting to smack yourself but to hide your face in your hands.
"I'm overstepping. I'm totally overstepping, aren't I? I mean, you can just tell me to fuck off any time now."
He chuckled and shook his head.
Gosh, why did he have such an amazing smile?
“No, it’s fine,” he replied.
You hoped that he meant it and wasn’t just trying to be nice. But, you had to admit that there was something genuine in the way he looked at you.
You ended up sitting at that table talking for at the very least two hours.
You were surprised at how comfortable you were with him considering the fact that you were strangers. But he just made it so easy. You already felt as though you could call each other friends.
Even so, he wasn’t exactly what one called an open book. You could tell that there a lot that he was holding back. Granted, he had only met you not that long ago. Who were you to think that he was going to spill all of his deepest, darkest secrets in one afternoon?
He got around to asking you about your interests; what you liked to do when you wandered about the city, what kind of books you enjoyed reading, movies you loved watching, or any type of music you liked. And he listened as though he were soaking up every single word.
When you asked him about what he liked, you learned that a lot of his artistic tastes were very vintage. Honestly, you didn't expect that from the muscular, leather jacket wielding guy that wore one leather glove. But who were you to judge a book by its cover?
He seemed like a bit of a lonely guy. Like a guy who didn't normally seek company. Yet, he didn’t seem to mind spending time with you; a complete stranger. In fact, you were almost certain that he enjoyed your company just as much as you enjoyed his.
“So…” you asked nervously.
“Zelda.”
“Zelda,” he repeated.
He no longer seemed too reserved to talk about her. He seemed to want to talk about her.
“She was a lot like you,” he replied.
"Well apparently I look like her," you pointed out.
“I mean, sure. You look exactly like her. You’re this eerie spitting image of her. But it’s not just your looks,” he stated.
“You talk like her. Your smiles are identical, and she carried the same enthusiasm about things that she was excited about when talking about the same interests that had had just spoken about.”
Something you learned early into the two hours that you had spent together. The more he opened up, the more you were curious you were. The more answers you got, the more questions it would leave you with.
“You miss her, don’t you?”
He nodded and smiled, but his eyes carried all of the pain and sadness that he felt thinking about her.
“She was a very special person.”
You both paused, taking in his statement.
“Once again, disclaimer,” you said, breaking the silence.
“You can at any time tell me to fuck off if you get annoyed with me and my ramblings, but I have to ask."
He laughed, and then cleared his throat.
“You seem like you still really love this girl, right?”
He stared at you, waiting for you to finish your point.
"Well, if you feel so strongly about her, have you considered trying to find her? Maybe reconnecting?"
He shook his head.
“I did actually,” he replied and proceeded to take a long sip out of his third cup of coffee.
“The thing is, we weren’t separated because we wanted to. It couldn’t be any more opposite than that. There were just…There were just complicated circumstances that came up where we had to be apart for a while. Because of it, we eventually lost touch.”
He paused, and you didn’t push for much more.
You could see the torment in his eyes growing and taking over. You wondered if just sitting in front of him made it worse.
"I looked for her."
His eyes were then concentrated on the table as he continued his story.
“I even found her. She um…she got married. Had a couple of kids, lived a good life it seemed.”
He seemed as though he were genuinely happy for her. Happy with a simultaneous feeling of melancholy.
"But unfortunately, she died a couple of years ago."
You suddenly regretted ever bringing her up. How could you? How could you make him have to relive something like that? You were such an idiot.
“It’s okay,” he told you, placing his hand atop yours.
“Wow,” you sniffled.
“Here you are comforting me. How pathetic.”
“No need to feel sorry,” he told you while brushing his thumb against your hand.
The feeling of his warm hand on yours gave you a sense of calm that you had never felt before from a simple touch. And it was from someone that you had only gotten to know for a few hours.
"You know, Zelda and I met here." He pointed to the corner to your left.
“Right there.”
You smiled as though the memory were your own. You wondered what they talked about. If he approached her, or if it was vice versa the same way that you did.
Was it love at first sight? Or was it something that grew and flourished through time before everything turned to crap?
"Sir, Ma'am?" said the waitress.
You jumped, not even realizing that she was there.
“Sorry to break this up, but we’re actually about to close.”
She was so sweet and seemed genuinely apologetic.
“Oh my gosh,” I gasped looking down at my watch.
“I had no idea.”
Bucky left cash on the table for her, which was certainly more than the coffee would cost. And he told her to keep the rest.
When you both got up, you made your way to the doorway.
“Y/N?” he asked.
Your heart skipped a beat. What was he going to ask? What was he going to say?
“I-um…” he stuttered.
“Can I see you again?”
Okay, your heart skipping a beat morphed into full-on butterflies.
You let out a nervous exhale and gave him a big smile.
“I’d love to.”
Epilogue
One year you had been together. One year. And you could honestly say that through the ups, and downs it had to be the best year of your life.
As you grew closer, and as time went on, you both learned a lot about each other. He may have opened up little by little, but eventually, you got to know all of him.
Stories that he had told you when you were in the early stages of your relationship unfolded into scrolls upon scrolls of information to unpack behind one little story he told you. For example; Zelda was dead because their relationship was in the 1940s, and they were separated because he went to war.
It took a while to get to that point though. For him, it was the scariest thing in the world for him to tell you about his dark past. He thought that as soon as he unfolded the truth before you, you would run away in terror. But by that point, you had seen his heart. You knew who he was, and the person that you met was all that you cared about.
A lot of insecurity wasn't all about him and his past. You had had your fears about the relationship as well.
There were moments where you went into a panic because of his past with his previous love. You feared that he was in love with you because he was still in love with her. The only thing that brought you two together was because for whatever reason in ways you would never understand, you were the spitting image of her. You were quite literally her doppelgänger. (You even did a DNA test to see if she was anywhere in your genealogical history. The answer? Niet.)
But eventually, Bucky made it clear that that was only the thing that initially brought you two together.
"That day at the café," he once said while holding you after you fell into a complete frenzy.
“That day I began falling in love with you. No one else.”
No one else.
He never even spoke about her anymore. And he showed all of the love in the world that any human could show another to you. Your love for one-another was undeniably solid, no matter what.
“Y/N?” Bucky asked as he held you in his arms under the warm sheets.
You pulled yourself up higher to bring your face closer to his exposing your bare chest.
(Not that he was complaining.)
“You know I love you, right?”
You nodded and planted a soft kiss along his jawline. Something you knew sent shivers down his spine.
He brought his cool, metal hand to your chin and raising it slightly so that you were staring deep into his beautiful eyes.
“Marry me,” he whispered.
Before you could even fully process the words that came out of his mouth, you responded with an immediate,
“Yes.”
…
That night, you spent the eve together in that one small part of Brooklyn where you had first met. It was summer once again.
As you walked around, you could hear music in the distance.
“Let’s check it out,” you urged.
Because his hand was tightly attached to yours, he had no real choice but to follow.
As you approached the area, you saw many couples holding each other closely, swaying to an old song on the cobblestone. A song that was most definitely from his era.
You brought him over to where the like illuminated over all of the couples and wrapped your arms around his neck. He followed by setting his hands on your waist and began to softly sway you side to side.
All you heard in the background was the music in the background like white noise as he stared at you like that first time. In awe.
" Kiss me once, and kiss me twice, and kiss me once again," you sang along in whispers.
And he did.
He kissed you once. Kissed you twice, and kissed you once again for a long, long time.