aurora༅𒀯

Minors doi, contains explicit scenes, 18+ content between Bucky and reader. Talks of death, grief, heavy topics covered, it’s gonna be a long one, buckle in - some of the dates and information is factually incorrect, some is based off the show and some is from real life accounts - all characters are based off the fictional ones portrayed in MOTA. This isn’t proof read soooo take it easy on me.

August 18th 1944:

“Curt-” you’d stammered out before the pilot could aboard the back of the jeep. The man turned over his shoulder, stepping back to face you once more. With a hand to your hip he closed the distance between you, earning more than a couple stares and jeers from the men aboard the vehicle.

“If anything happens-” you’d hushed, but Curt had cut you off, tracing a finger over your cheek.

“Nothin’s gonna happen, baby.”

“If anything happens.” You inhaled once more, wanting to get your point across. “You promise me you’ll bail. Don’t try to do some heroic move that’ll get you killed.” Your eyes met and Curt instantly felt moved by your words. Your hand had come to rest on his chest, over his uniform, one last touch.

After a few seconds of taking in your worried expression, a nervous Curt began to nod, holding the eye contact that neither of you dared to break. “Promise, baby.” He then spoke, allowing you to breathe once more. Curt stepped a little closer, wrapping an arm over the back of your shoulders to bring you closer. The pilot didn’t care who onboard was watching, the two of you were newly together, blissfully enjoying the honeymoon stage everybody said was oh so nice, but Curt never realized it could be this good.

“C’mon, gimme a good-luck kiss, my darlin’.” Despite the nerves twisting and gripping at your stomach, you’d managed to break a smile, moving up to press a kiss firmly over the plush of his lips, savouring the moment and allowing him to kiss you one, two, three times until you’d broken into a tight embrace, a goodbye.

“I love you.” Curt then uttered those three words, an audible gasp leaving your mouth as you sunk deeper into his front, savouring every last moment you could get. “I love you, Curt.” Leaving things unspoken out here was to play a dangerous game. Not knowing when or if you’d re somebody again, you’d learnt the hard way to be upfront about everything for the sake of these men.

Curt sighed out, feeling the ticking of pressure in the back of his head to get back into the vehicle. Maybe this time was no different, but it felt it. There was a gnawing deep inside of his chest, the air around him was like god-damn pea soup, and his girl had just told him she loved him. It was a time for celebrating, not doubt.

“One more kiss for good luck, darlin’.” He tugged back first, and you’d allowed your lips to press firmly against his, lingering for a few moments as you savoured every second of the kiss, the taste of him, the feel of him, the scent of him. He would be back soon, you reminded yourself. Just one sleep away, like he’d said the night before.

“I’ll see ya’ soon, baby, better be waitin’ for me.” Curt attempted to joke but it fell flat with a slight breath of laughter. You picked him up with that gorgeous smile he couldn’t get enough of, squeezing his hands as he brought you a few steps closer to the vehicle, not prepared to leave just yet.

“I’ll be seein’ you, as soon as I see those planes.”

“Alrigh’.”

With one last hesitant squeeze, you broke off in different directions, pressing your hand close to your chest to keep the feeling of him near your heart, where he would remain for the rest of your life. Maybe if you knew that was the last time you’d see Curt you’d have made a bigger deal, begged him not to go, thrown a fit or faked an injury- but the feeling was never any different from any other time he went up. Each time before he’d returned, right? So why would your gut suddenly be right this time?

War was a twisted and cruel game. When it came to it, it all came down to fate, you knew all too well. And at 11am the same morning, you’d felt a tightness in your chest, radiating through your heart as you’d attempted to rub the area, soothing the feeling.

“Alice.” You’d turned up your fellow nurse that day. “Somethin’ doesn’t feel right…”

With the comforts of your friends in mind and Curt’s fresh admission of ‘I love you’, you’d awaited nearby the tarmac that following day, eyes glued to the sky despite the small yellow patch the sun was burning into your vision. It must’ve been a good hour of pacing on the grass waiting until you noticed the familiar spec of planes in the distance.

“There!” You’d pointed, heart in your chest. Again, you’d gripped at the chest of your uniform, clapping and cheering amongst the children and engineers around you, counting the planes and seeing them come down one by one. The hand squeezing your uniform had become clammy and ached from the tension, there was no ‘Wild Cargo’ plane like you had hoped, in fact there was several missing, and the dusty looking men who hopped out had you frozen to the tarmac below, offering each and every one of them a deadpan stare in an attempt to workout it Curt had just boarded another plane.

Then, the men spilling out began to become less and less, they boarded their jeeps for interrogation, the doctor only fifteen-feet away from you hauled orders to head back to the aid station before the check ups on the men started, but how could you move? Curt wasn’t here.

Only a few meters away, John Egan and Gale Cleven walked around the outside of their planes, patting on the metal, a physical way of thanking the Flying Fortress for keeping them safe through the mission. As they moved around the aircraft, Bucky was first to notice you. You’d teeth bit down against your thumb, other hand gripping at your uniform as anxiety rippled through your body. Johns breath was lost somewhere between his throat and lungs as he picked up the pace to grow closer to you.

“Bucky, we don’t know-” Gale attempted to stop him, knowing Bucky was weak to you, he’d do anything to make you feel better, even if that meant feeding you the same delusions he fed himself in order to stay sane out here.

“No, I know.” Bucky firmly told his friend, nodding in a fake confidence as he sniffled, staring back to Gale. Gale knew there was no arguing, by the time the exchange had happened between the pair, you’d already caught sight of the pair.

“Gale, Bucky!” Your thumb fell from between your teeth as you’d walked over towards the taller men. If anybody knew anything about Curt, it would be them. Bucky felt his heart soften at the sight of you and wince at your apparent distress that you so desperately tried to hide.

“Have you seen Curt?” Gale blinked away, but your eyes were on Bucky, he looked more sure, and maybe you were searching for false hope, but knowing Bucky unconsciously you’d picked the right person to direct the question to. The two men shared a gaze as your stomach sunk, letting out a choke of an exhale.

“They got shot down somewhere north of Regensburg-” Gale began as your mouth dropped open, brows furrowing and a sadness pooled in your eyes like neither of them had ever seen. Bucky couldn’t handle it, seeing your display of emotion. Before he could speak, you’d stumbled out your words again.

“-Well did you see shoots?” Your fist was tightening over your uniform, turning white as you began to tremble, feeling a deep, dark cloud begin to rinse through you. This wasn’t real. None of this could be real. Curt was hit before and ended up in Scotland, he would be okay now, he had to be.

“I saw four.” Gale nodded as a gasp escaped your trembling lips. “Four?” You repeated. Bucky’s mouth was agape, he tried to speak but no words would form as he glanced between you and Buck. Despair and desperation was starting to flood your bloodstream. You didn’t know whether you wanted to scream or throw up, or both. A fear settled in alongside the shock that ravished your body, making you visibly pale in the face.

“Like I said to, Buck.” Bucky now intervened, slapping Buck on the shoulder who stood still, knowing deep down it was not Biddick who escaped that plane. It was too upright, in control, a pilot had to be present or they would have stalled and nosedived. Looking at your face was too difficult to handle, too many times had he felt grief, experienced pain like no other, but seeing it on somebody else’s face caused the feeling to resurface once more inside himself.

“Curt’s probably drinkin’ a bottle of Schnapp’s waiting this all out.” Bucky approached, resting a hand on your tense shoulder. You blinked away, daring to feel hopeful at his words. Bucky squeezed at your shoulder once more, offering you a gesture of support, finding himself itching to rid your anxiety in anyway possible.

“Look, y/n, you know Curt, he always comes back.” Bucky didn’t think so much about his words as he stepped closer to you. Buck, however, was watching you with such a grief stricken look, it made your feelings conflicted. It was easier to believe Bucky’s words over Buck’s face purely out of the sheer terror that your Curt might not return.

“Yeah.” You’d found yourself agreeing, maybe foolishly. “I saw those chutes.” Bucky repeated, but was cut off with a warning from Gale. “Bucky.”

“What? I saw them for Christ sake!” John, not willing to believe the likely, shook his head back to the more rationale minded Gale. Gale offered you one more glance before moving on, leaving you watching him with an anxious pit in your stomach.

“He really didn’t come back…” your whisper trembled, watching after the blonde haired pilot. All these men, and none of them was Curt. “Hey.” Bucky intervened, placing his hand over the fist that had balled so tight over your uniform, it began to hurt. For the first time, you relaxed, finding it in yourself to glance back up at Bucky, tears beginning to flow down your cheek.

“He’s coming back.” Bucky firmed, wiping at your cheeks, although he wasn’t sure if the statement was to reassure you or lie to himself. Truthfully, yes, he did see chutes, Curt could land that god damn plane with one engine- the idea of his friend not making it was incomprehensible.

Your face dropped as you let out a soft hiccup, heart yearning for the man you’d loved so dearly. “Hey.” Bucky repeated, softening his tone but lifting your chin to meet his gaze. Your devastation was apparent. Bucky hated seeing girls cry, let alone somebody like you, his friend. Pulling you in for an embrace, you found yourself clutching at his uniform, reminiscing of the way you’d held onto Curt’s same uniform only twenty-four hours prior.

“I got you, okay? We’ll wait for him.” Bucky hushed, as you desperately repeated in your head that there was chutes. You’d told Curt, bail out no matter what, if all hope failed, you at least shared the promise that he’d bail no matter what. At best, Curt could be in a Stalag, captured and under the command of the Germans for the rest of the war but at least he’d be safe.

Two weeks later:

Bucky stood grimly listening to the news Colonel Harding was sharing as the men stood before him. Curt and Dickie were dead. It had been reported back first from the men at the Stalag who did make it, that Biddick remained in the plane in an heroic attempt to save his gravely ill friend and co-pilot Dickie. Then, the news came that the charred B-17 was found 40 miles north of Regensburg. It was believed Curt didn’t even attempt to bail and went down with their Flying Fortress.

Bucky’s stomach churned at the news, he’d lost focus after hearing the news about his friends. Then, his thoughts turned to you and the words he’d regretfully said to you right after returning from the fateful mission. ‘He’s coming back, we’ll wait for him’ god, Bucky wanted to beat himself up for being such an idiot. Nobody survived this war, nobody.

“I’m going to inform Nurse Y/l/n about the news.” Colonel Harding stiffened. Bucky’s attention snapped back towards his superior at the sound of your name.

“No, that’s ok sir, I’ll do it if that’s possible.” The American spoke up, clearing his throat and rubbing the back of his neck. All eyes were on him, including Gale Cleven who dreaded the thought of Bucky having to share such bleak news, going back drastically on his words from before. After the meeting, Gale offered Bucky a slap on the back.

“You know I can talk to her, right?” The blonde man checked as Bucky solemnly gazed around the land, looking for you.

“It’s ok.” He responded, not making eye contact once. “Im the one that told her he’d be okay. It’s on me, Buck.”

Meanwhile, you were returning from a trip home, watching the world pass you as the car drove through the familiar roads of East Anglia. You’d not taken Curt’s absence lightly, and as more time passed, you’d somewhat accepted that his fate was grim, and he was most likely dead. Dark circles rimmed your eyes from the lack of sleep and you’d grown somewhat skinnier from the lack of nutrition. All you could do was stare at the roof, engulfed by darkness as you pictured a million ways how it could have happened.

If Curt was alive, you would have surely heard something by now? Of course who knew out there, he could be on the run, or in a hospital somewhere- you didn’t dare to even dream anymore, any glimmer of hope would just make it even more unbearable when the news did reach Thorpe Abbots.

Carrying your bag, you thanked the driver quietly, walking through the base as the last of summertime sun beamed down on your face. It was a beautiful day, or it should’ve been. Nothing felt the same anymore, and a constant hollow feeling gnawed away at your stomach. Whether it was hunger or anxiety, or both, you weren’t sure. You felt out of tune with your body and completely disassociated, yearning to lay in bed and cry the day and nights away as they passed.

Exhaustion was the norm. As you walked blissfully aware towards your hut, something clenched at Bucky’s chest as he spotted your figure. “I’ll see you, Buck.” Eyes fixated to the back of you, he slapped Gale on the back before hurrying off to speed up beside you.

What would he say? How would he say it? As you opened the door to the nurses hut, he debated just letting you stay in there and let somebody else tell you- the easy way out. No, Bucky thought, jogging towards where the now closing door with a call of your name.

Pulling the wooden frame open once more, you were surprised to see Bucky hurrying over, still clad in his sheepskin coat that he never took off. “Can I-” he choked on his words. “Can I talk to you?” Immediate dread filled your body, and it became apparent from the way he was watching you, this wasn’t going to be good news.

The suitcase in your hand dropped, every limb felt numb as the pilot coerced you gently out of hut with a slight gesture. Your legs turned to jelly and it felt like you couldn’t breathe.

“Don’t tell me, Bucky.” You pleaded, his arm supporting you as he lead you to the field behind the huts, somewhere quieter. He quickened your pace, knowing a breakdown was inevitable, at least if he told you this it had to be in the privacy without others snooping in. He owed that to you.

“I don’t want to know.” You’d already felt the familiar flow of hot tears, washing away any makeup you’d attempted to put on in a desperate act of a bid for normalcy. The crack in your voice, the soft weeps that escaped your mouth has Bucky fighting against his own emotions. Standing at the edge of the field, he gripped both your arms, looking back to you with a frantic desire to take away the pain you felt.

“I’m so sorry.” Was all he could muster as you began to crumble before him, hands flying up to your face as devastated sobs racked your body. Bucky caught you once more, keeping you upright as he attempted to comfort you in anyway possible. Words fell short, he tried many times to apologise, beg for your forgiveness, but he was rattled by your cries, tears pricking at his own eyes.

“Curt.” You whimpered in a desperate plea of the man’s name. “I knew this would happen, I knew it.” You choked out to Bucky as his grip tightened on the back of your head, cradling you so tightly as your chest physically hurt, a mixture of emotions making your head spin.

Neither of you knew how long you sat there. The tears didn’t stop, your head was pounding and all you could do was stare miserably across the grassy field.

“How did it happen?” You dared to ask, Bucky watched you, reaching out to cover your trembling hand with his. “You need to eat-”

“No, how did it happen?” You repeated, sharper this time as Bucky winced, turning back to his knees, chewing on the inside of his cheek, eyes red rimmed as a guilt surged through you.

“They were hit, running on one engine, Dickie-Dickie was hit.” Bucky cleared his throat, avoiding any weakness in his tone as he told you exactly what he’d heard Colonel Harding say. “The rest of the men bailed but-” you’d began to cry again, Bucky debated telling you the rest, stumbling over his words as he struggled to watch your upset.

“Curt tried to land to save Dickie.”

“I told him to fucking bail no matter what.” Your stomach churned in a sickening manner, tried to land, he tried to. Your head dropped into your hands as you hiccuped, body shaking and feeling unable to support you anymore. Bucky’s hand fell from your own as he reached for you, bringing you closer as your body weakly fell into his. He exhaled shakily against your hair, inhaling the fresh scent of apple shampoo as he pressed a kiss there, engulfing your body in his arms.

“I wanted him to come back.” You spoke once more, voice hoarse. “I know. So did I.” Bucky hushed as you reached out, aching for comfort as you grasped onto Bucky’s arms. “I’m sorry for telling you he’d come back.” But you held no anger or distaste to the things Bucky had spoke to you before. It was your own fault for trying to believe them.

“Don’t say sorry.” You hushed as Bucky’s eyes closed, looking down to the way you held onto him so tightly. His stomach churned, but this time it wasn’t in such a sickening manner- butterflies. Fuck, he thought, pushing the selfish feelings aside as he swallowed thickly. A second wave of guilt filled him, this time, it was one he couldn’t speak about.

“I knew deep down…” you whispered, head against his chest as you felt the speeding of his heart, closing your swollen eyes, your words a small comfort to Bucky that he hadn’t led you to believe the same things he foolishly thought.

Another six weeks later, you sat in the same spot, drinking from a bottle of red wine, drinking away the sorrows of your dead lover. With a Sunday off, you took advantage of the Saturday (that was still up for debate) and bought yourself a bottle, opting to sit by yourself. It wasn’t very ‘lady like’, but the place was deserted, nobody would come down here, apart from John Egan that was.

“Mind if I join?” Your head turned to see the tall man stood behind you, eyes glassy from the alcohol he’d consumed. Your heart jumped, looking him up and down before nodding. Bucky settled with a groan, taking the bottle from your grasp and taking a swig himself.

“I’ve been lookin’ for you.” He admitted, plump lips moving against the rim of the bottle as he took another gulp of the bitter liquid. You watched as he winced, gaze lingering over his face more than was appropriate. Over the few weeks, Bucky had been there for you like no other. The more time you spent together, the more complicated things felt…

“Were you at the pub?” You hushed, bringing your knees up, hands resting on them whilst he sprawled his out, making the wine bottle seem small between his grasp.

“Yeah, why didn’t you come?” Bucky’s voice rasped from the whiskey he’d consumed earlier that evening, handing the bottle back to you, fingers grazing over yours as you both blinked down to the contact before meeting one another’s gaze again. The two of you questioned if the other had felt it too, the heat that spread from the touch, a forbidden touch that should never feel that good.

“I didn’t feel like it.” You spoke quietly as he let out an internal sigh, leaning back on both his hands. Lifting the bottle up to your lips, you didn’t get to take a swig until he’d spoke up again.

“So you came here with a bottle of wine instead?” His brows twitched, and for some reason you found the comment amusing. A smile broke, followed by a soft breath of laughter. You screwed the lid of the wine back on, dropping it to the grass in the small space between the two of you.

Bucky felt his brows lift at your mirth, something he hadn’t seen in a long time. “I’m not an alcoholic, if that’s what you’re thinking.” You nodded, forcing yourself to look across the field ahead of you, instead of at him. If Bucky caught on that you’d been feeling somewhat… close to him would he shame you and run away? He had every right to, it was a shameful way to feel after your lover, and his friend had passed. It felt wrong, but there was something pulling you in, inch by inch. You felt normal around Bucky, dare you go as far and say happy. You first started craving the emotions that came when he was around, but as the weeks turned into months, you understood that the yearning was for him.

“I’m joking.” He softly smiled, causing your eyes to look back to him once more. “I know.” You nodded, nudging the bottle as it rolled to your feet. A moment of silence took over you, Bucky found himself scanning your face, trailing over each curve and freckle on your face. The slight parting between your lips, the lift of your eyelashes. His chest softened once more and he could no longer pretend that he didn’t harbour feelings for you.

“Why’d you come find me?” You whispered, the words taking a few movements to register in his mind. “Because I wanted to see you.” He winced as you met his eyes now, smiling back to him. Fuck, Bucky thought. There it was again.

“Are you okay?” You then asked him, noticing the slight confusion lingering over his face. “I’m ok.” He quickly responded. Why would you ask? Shouldn’t it be the other way around?

“Are you thinking about Curt?” Bucky then asked, to which you nodded. Bucky felt his heart strain.

“I always think about Curt. I can’t- I don’t like going to that pub, I just think I’m gonna see him.” You swallowed, dropping your head as your eyes averted his. Shit, he thought. He’d upset you.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you-”

“No, no, no, no.” You were fast to disagree. “I like talking about him, just… I still- I can’t-” you struggled over your words as he shifted closer, dropping an arm around you.

“‘S just difficult.” Bucky understood, watching you turn to face him. Only inches apart, you felt your breath hitch, words stuck with it as a feeble nod was all you could manage. Silence took over you both once more, but now something else filled the quiet.

Bucky’s lips were parted, eyes glued to yours, chest rising and falling at an increased pace as his hand flattened over your arm, your opposite shoulder pressed into his chest as you blinked back up to him. If only looks could speak, you thought, feeling the tension build within you. Your body yearned for him, even if your mind knew it wasn’t right.

Then, when he watched the fall of your gaze onto his lips, Bucky didn’t know what overcame him. He moved forward and caught your lips in one swift movement. To his surprise, you didn’t pull back. You remained in a state of shock, mind going blank as your lips reacted quicker to the kiss than your brain could. Bucky was kissing you- you were kissing him back.

A sudden panic filled the pilot and he retrieved back in surprise, an immense level of guilt filling him as he pushed himself up, lips mumbling as many apologies as he could, but he could still taste you on him.

“I’m sorry, fuck, I’m so sorry.” Bucky scrambled to his feet, but in a state of disbelief, you followed. “No-” you shook your head frantically, reaching for his wrist as your heart beat wildly for the man before you.

“Bucky, stop.” You’d hurried around the other side, standing in front of the taller man. “I can’t, I shouldn’t have-”

“It’s okay.” You soothed, your hand smoothing down his wrist and into his hand to which he unconsciously wrapped his fingers around yours in an automatic reaction he couldn’t even control.

“If I don’t go I won’t stop, y/n.” He muttered, head hanging low as his body screamed to grab you close once more. Conflicted, you found your emotions running deeper than common sense, and in a bid for the same sense of warmth and security as before, you reached for his face, pulling yourself flush against him and catching his lips once more.

There was no debate in Bucky’s mind. Fuck, nothing else in the world moved when he was kissing you, he’d yearned for you for so long, all those touches, the late night conversations. It didn’t take long for his hands to grip at your lower bag, lips moving against each others with ease as his tongue glided across yours.

“Please Bucky.” You borderline wept as he let out a low moan, kissing you once more. Who was he to deny such a request? In a heated exchange, he eased you down to the grass, settling once again as you climbed on his lap, dragging your body over his as a warmth filled not only your core, but your whole body in a frantic display of need.

The hair that littered his top lip brushed against your face, your cheeks, your nose, your neck. Once Bucky had started, he couldn’t stop. Nothing but a pure carnal desire rushed through his veins as he pulled a hand up to your shoulder, pulling you firmer against his clothed crotch to which you both let out a sigh of relief at the friction between the two of you.

The sound of your moans as Bucky dragged his lips and teeth over your neck was nothing short of angelic. He was painfully hard in his trousers, aching as you rubbed yourself against him. Matching your rhythm, Bucky began to gyrate his hips up into yours, groaning at the sensation as he dragged his fingers through your hair, against your scalp in a soothing manner.

With the tension thick, you reached for his belt, as his hands fumbled under the layers of your dress, pushing your panties aside as a finger slid in with ease to your warmth. You rode on his lap, clutching tighter at him, hands fumbling with apprehension as you worked on freeing his cock from his trousers.

Bucky brought you to your first orgasm as you finished over his hand, mouth agape and eyes screwed shut. He watched, swallowing thickly as he was captured by your pleasure, heart racing as your body slumped against his, panting with the aftershocks of your climax.

Bucky didn’t move you, the weight of you on his front was the most comforting thing he’d ever felt, and if it wasn’t for your fingers gliding the tip of his erection against your slickness, he would’ve stayed like that all night.

Then, he was inside you. As he sunk into your warmth the angle of your position and length of his member exerted the most beautiful sounds to pass your lips, ones he would’ve enjoyed to hear louder if it wasn’t for the smooshing of his plump lips against your own. Caught up in the moment, Bucky rolled your entwined bodies onto the floor, disregarding the grass stains he’d find later as he thrusted inside your tightness with a strained groan.

“Are you sure?” Forever a gentleman, he’d almost forgot to ask, but considering the way you were gripping him like your life depended on it, you thought he would’ve known the answer to that already.

“Yes.” Your consent came out as a whine, head thrashing to the side with a gasp as he worked against your g-spot, choking out manly sounds from above you as his pelvis gyrated against yours.

“Bucky.” As you cooed out his name, the pilot gripped you closer, digging his knees into the floor, slipping slightly as he fought for balance, fingers digging into your scalp as he gyrated faster, harder, bringing you closer to release as you both begged for the sweet satisfaction of climax once more.

And when you started pleading for it, how could he deny such a thing? With a muffled cry against his mouth, ecstasy took over your body once more and Bucky followed, digging his hips harder into yours, as deep as he could go before he finished with a groan, lips opening against yours, spilling his sticky seed over your exposed vagina, dropping it down the inside of your thigh.