Starkbucks

“Gurararara…! That’s right! Today… my sons live!”

The marines were retreating, their morale shattered the moment Akainu had been dragged back, bloodied and barely conscious after the pirates’ counterattack. Sengoku had finally called for withdrawal, the remnants of the navy’s forces scrambling to pull back.

And in the center of it all—Ace.

His chains lay shattered on the ground, his shoulders rising and falling with uneven breaths. He was free. And he was alive.

You stood a few paces away from him, blood streaking your arm where magma had scorched you, your chest aching with exhaustion. Every muscle trembled from the fight, but your eyes were locked on him, as if making sure this wasn’t a dream that would slip away if you blinked.

Ace turned toward you, lips parted, words heavy on his tongue. But before he could speak, Whitebeard’s booming voice rolled across the ruins:

“Girl.”

Your head snapped up. The man’s shadow fell across you as he walked closer, massive, larger than life. His single glance was enough to silence the remnants of shouting around you.

“You interfered with an Admiral’s strike.” His voice rumbled like thunder. “And you saved my son.”

Dozens of Whitebeard’s crew looked at you now— Marco, Jozu, Vista, and so many others. Some gazes filled with suspicion, others with awe. You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to stand tall despite your knees shaking.

Whitebeard’s grin stretched wider. “Tell me your name, girl. Who are you?”

The question you’d been dreading—the one Ace first asked. But now, standing before the strongest man in the world, you couldn’t hide behind vagueness.

You took a deep breath, chest tight, and said it clearly:

“My name is Y/N. And…” Your gaze shifted back to Ace, his eyes locked with yours, firelight glinting in their depths. “I couldn’t let him die. I’ve been waiting too long— for this moment—to save him.”

Silence fell for a beat. Then Whitebeard’s laughter shook the Earth itself.

“Gurararara! Then from this day forward, I would be happy to have you as my daughter—Y/N!”

“…Okay.”

The crew erupted with cheers, voices rising with raw relief and triumph. Marco smirked faintly, tipping his head in approval. Ace’s crew brothers crowded around, some clapping you on the back, others still looking in disbelief.

Ace… just stared.

When the noises settled, he stepped forward, close enough that you could see the tiny tremor in his hand. His voice was hoarse when he spoke.

“You… saved me. I don’t even know why, or how, but—” His lips twisted into a shaky grin. “I think I own you more than my life.”

Your throat tightened, and for a second you thought you’d break down right there. Instead, you formed a teasing smile. “Well, guess that makes us even, doesn’t it? I’ve been waiting for years for you to finally say thanks.”

Ace blinked. “for years—?” His brow furrowed in confusion, but he didn’t press further. Not here. Not now. Instead, he let out a shaky laugh, running a hand through his messy hair.

“Then… guess I better get used to having you around.” His grin widened, bright and reckless despite everything. “Welcome to the family, Y/N.”

For the first time since you landed in this world, since you carried the weight of knowing what was supposed to happen—your chest felt light. The war was over. Ace lived. Whitebeard lived. And you weren’t just a stranger watching in the shadows or behind a screen anymore.

You were part of the Whitebeard pirates.

But then—

A crash echoed across the battlefield. You turned sharply, head sinking as you caught sight of Luffy. He staggered, his hat nearly falling, his whole body trembling like a puppet with broken strings. He had fought too hard, too far past his limits.

“LUFFY!” Ace’s voice cracked, panic flooding it. He moved before you did, reaching for his brother. But Luffy collapsed into the mud, unconscious, his straw hat slipping away.

A sudden splash came from the sea. A submarine surfaced, black and yellow markings cutting through the waves. A man in a long spotted coat stepped onto the battlefield, his calm eyes sweeping over the wreckage.

Trafalgar Law.

“Oi, Straw Hat,” Law said evenly, crouching beside Luffy without hesitation. He checked his pulse with quick precision, then called back to his crew. “He’s alive. We’re taking him.”

Ace bristled instantly. “Like hell I’m letting you—”

“If you want him to live, you’ll trust me.” Law’s gaze flicked up, sharp and steady. “Your brother’s body can’t take another second of this. I can keep him alive.”

The silence that followed was suffocating. Ace trembled, fists clenched, before slowly lowering his head. “…Take care of him. Please.”

Law gave a quick nod. His men lifted Luffy onto a stretcher, moving with practiced ease. The straw hat slipped again, and Ace caught it before it hit the ground, pressing it to his brother’s chest before letting the Heart Pirates carry him away.

As they passed, Law’s eyes caught yours—just for a second. A brief flicker of recognition, of calculation. His gaze lingered, curious, before he gave the faintest smirk. “Not bad.. for someone who punches Admirals around.”

You blinked, heat rushing to your face before you could stop it. But he was already walking away, disappearing with Luffy into the submarine.

The vessel submerged, waves closing over it, carrying the future Pirate along to safety.

Ace stayed frozen for a moment, staring at the place his brother vanished. Then, after a moment of silence, he finally looked at you, a subtle smile donning his lips.

“Guess we’ve both got people worth fighting for, huh?”

You nodded softly.

And for the first time… the future was yours to write.

————

Your chest aches at the sight of him, kneeling, bloodied, and broken under the shadows of justice.

Four years. Four years since the day you opened your eyes in this world—you had been training, fighting, clawing your way for this exact moment. Every scar, every sleepless night, every ounce of strength you’d built… it was all for this.

And when Akainu’s magma fist drew back, glowing with lethal heat directly for Ace’s back—your body moved.

The world blurred.

The magma fist ripped past Ace, striking empty air instead of a body. The shockwave blasted through the ground, cracking ice, sending debris flying. But the fatal blow, the one that would’ve stolen Ace away, never landed.

The entire battlefield froze.

Akainu skidded back a step, boots hissing against the ice, his eyes snapping toward you with murder blazing in them.

“What—?” Ace’s voice cracked, his wide eyes locked onto you. His breath hitched as if he couldn’t believe what just happened.

Around you, voices erupted like a storm.

“Who the hell is she?!” a marine shouted.

“She pushed— she just pushed an Admiral?!”

“Impossible… she came out of nowhere!”

Whitebeard’s booming laugh shook the air.

“Gurararara! Now that is interesting…!”

Your arm throbbed from the burn where magma had grazed you, but you stood tall between Akainu and Ace, refusing to move. You lifted your chin, meeting Akainu’s murderous gaze. Your chest was heaved, but your voice was steady as you spoke.

“Not this time… he doesn’t, he won’t he die here.”

Akainu’s lips curled into a snarl.” You dare…. interfere with justice?”

You didn’t answer him. Instead, you turned just enough to glance back at Ace, your eyes meeting his. His mouth was slightly parted, breathless, disbelief etched across every feature.

“…Who… are you?” Ace asked, curiosity filling his gaze.

The answer burned on your tongue, but how could you explain? Hey! So I’m actually not from this world and I was transported here. Also you’re a fictional character who dies in my world and I’m now here to save you! Yeah… you couldn’t say that.

Instead, you turned, just for a moment, locking eyes with him. A shaky smile tugged at your lips.

“Someone who refused to let you go.”

Ace’s eyes widened, curious still burning brightly but with a hint of something else.

And then chaos erupted again. Marines lunged, pirates roared, Whitebeard himself let out a booming laugh that shook the air.

But Ace didn’t move. His gaze stayed fixed on your, trying to memorize your face in the middle of a war.

————

You and Bucky should be focused on the mission, but instead, you two are focused on each other. Bucky wraps his arms around you from behind and kisses your cheek. You smiled and giggled softly.

“You’re distracting me from the mission, Sarge.” You say.

“You’re doing the same thing to me.” Bucky says.

“I didn’t do a thing.” You say, your voice sounding playful and innocent.

“Oh yea? I can go down the list if you want.” He says.

You turned around so you were properly facing him and put your hands on his chest.

“Go for it, Sarge.” You say and grinned.

“Well, for starters your beauty is very distracting.” Bucky begins.

“That’s not my fault.” You say.

“Secondly, your uniform is even more distracting.” He says.

“You’re wearing the same thing is as me!” You exclaimed, playfully poking his chest.

“Point made, doll face.” He says.

You giggled and kissed him softly. The kiss was short lived when Steve pulled you and Bucky apart.

“I’m happy that you two are in love, but we have a mission to focus on.” Steve says.

“Aye, aye, Captain!” You and Bucky joked and saluted Steve.

Steve playfully rolled his eyes and shook his head at you and Bucky. Then one of the Howling Commandos informed all of you guys that the train is about to come through the area you guys are in.

“Ready, doll?” Bucky asks.

“Ready.” You say.

You and Bucky have each other a quick good luck kiss before zip lining down to the train with Steve. Bucky opens the roof hatch of the train and the three of you jumped inside of it. The three of you cautiously walked through the train with your weapons held out in front of you guys, ready to shoot any HYDRA agents that gets in your way. After Steve entered the next train car, the door quickly slides closed, separating Steve from you and Bucky. Yours and Bucky’s eyes went wide, along with Steve’s eyes. That’s when you and Bucky heard footsteps from behind you two. You two turned around to see a HYDRA agent about to blast you guys with his weapon. Both of you shot at him till you two were out of bullets. Then Bucky grabs you, hiding both of you behind stacked cargo containers.

“Do you have any more bullets?” Bucky whispers.

“No.” You whispered.

“Shit. Neither do I.” He whispers.

“What’re we going to do?” You whispered.

“I don’t know. I’m sure we’ll figure something out.” He whispers.

Bucky kisses your cheek, which made all of your worries fade away. You two looked over at Steve when the door slides back open. He holds up and gun before tossing it to you. You caught it and started shooting at the HYDRA agent. Steve ran towards a cargo container, pushing it with all of his strength to knock down and knock out the HYDRA agent.

“I had him on the ropes.” You say.

“We know you did.” Bucky and Steve say at the same time.

Another HYDRA agent appears, aiming his weapon at the three of you. Steve quickly pushes you and Bucky behind him and held his shield up to shield the three of you from the blast the HYDRA agent shot at you guys, knocking the three of you to the floor of the train. As you were about to stand back up, you saw Steve’s shield about a foot away from you. You glanced up at the HYDRA agent who was about to shoot another blast at you guys. You grabbed your gun and Steve’s shield. You stood up and shot at the HYDRA agent, shielding yourself with Steve’s shield. The HYDRA agent blasts you, sending you through the hole on the train’s wall. Bucky’s eyes went wide and his heart drops to the pit of his stomach. Bucky scrambles over to you while Steve takes care of the HYDRA agent. He looks out of the hole of the train to see you holding onto a metal bar for dear life.

“I’m coming!” Bucky shouts.

“Ok!” You shouted back.

Bucky carefully climbed on the outside of the train to get to you. He held his hand out to you when he got close enough for you to reach his hand.

“Grab my hand!” Bucky shouts.

As you were reaching for Bucky’s hand, the metal bar gives out and you fall. You screamed as you plummeted downwards.

“Y/N!” Bucky screams.

Steve helps Bucky back inside of the train and both of them stare downward. Tears were streaming down Bucky’s face and Steve’s eyes teared up.

“We need to do a rescue mission! Y/N is down there somewhere and she could be hurt!” Bucky exclaims.

“Buck, you know as well as I do that no one can survive a fall like that.” Steve says, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder.

Bucky knew that. He was just in denial. His bottom lip quivers and a loud spine chilling sob leaves his lips.

“Let’s finish the mission, Buck. It’s what Y/N would want us to do.” Steve says.

Bucky nods and sniffles. He stands up and finishes the mission with Steve and the Howling Commandos, which was finished successfully. Afterwards, Bucky, Steve, and the Howling Commandos went out for drinks. The Howling Commandos gave Bucky condolences to what happened to you. Meanwhile, Bucky was sitting at a table by himself and drinking. Steve was worried about him and went over to sit at the table with him.

“You can’t keep doing this to yourself, Buck.” Steve says as Bucky downed another drink.

“My wife died, Steve. I don’t have anything else better to do.” Bucky says.

“Y/N wouldn’t want you to do this to yourself.” Steve says.

“It’s not like I can get drunk. You of all people should know that.” Bucky took another sip of his drink. “The only I want is for those bastards to pay for what happened to my wife.” He says.

“I agree. They should be held accountable for what happened to her. All we have to do is take them down. Are you in?” Steve says.

Bucky downs the rest of his drink and slams the glass on the table and looked at Steve.

“I’m in.” Bucky says.

2014

The day when you fell off the train has haunted Bucky ever since. He has nightmares about it almost every night. The nightmare is always the same. Him getting close enough for you to grab his hand, but then you fall. Your screams echo in his head. He always wakes up screaming your name, with tears on his face, and a thin sheen of sweat on his face. Sometimes, the nightmare goes into the morning hours around the time he should be waking up and Steve wakes him up from the nightmare. Like he’s about to do right now.

“Bucky, wake up.” Steve says, shaking Bucky to wake him up.

Bucky gasps sharply as he wakes up. He scrambles to sit up. He’s breathing heavily after the nightmare he just had.

“You had that nightmare again, didn’t you?” Steve says.

“Yea.” Bucky says breathlessly.

Bucky gets out of bed and goes to the bathroom to splash cold water on his face to wake himself up more.

“You know, Fury told you it would be fine if you wanted to take some personal days off. No one wouldn’t blame you if you did.” Steve says.

“I appreciate that, but I don’t need special treatment, because my wife died in the hands of HYDRA years ago.” Bucky says.

Steve gave Bucky a comforting pat on his shoulder before leaving his bedroom. Bucky looks in the mirror for a few seconds and sighs before getting ready for the day.

Later, Bucky is in the car with Steve, Sam, and Natasha. He was listening to the beginning of the conversation, but then his mind drifted elsewhere. Elsewhere meaning, he’s thinking about you. Even thought the horrific thought of you falling off of the train will forever be imprinted into his mind, he’s thinking about the good memories he had with you. It got cut short when Bucky, Steve, Sam, and Natasha heard a loud thudding sound on the roof of the car. They looked at each other in confusion, wondering what the thudding sound was. The answer came right through the windshield. Literally. A hand punches through the windshield and forcefully rips the steering wheel out of the steering column, which put the four of them on high alert. They four of them quickly got out of the car and ran in separate directions to avoid the threat that’s about to come their way.

“Barnes!” Natasha whisper yells.

Bucky looks over at Natasha. She holds up one of the two guns she has on her and tosses it to him. He caught it and nodded at her as a way of saying thank you. Bucky heard footsteps of combat boots coming his way. He cautiously poked his head out from his hiding spot and saw the Winter Soldier- you, but he doesn’t know that it’s you yet. He quickly hides back in his hiding spot, waiting for the right moment to start shooting.

You stopped walking, standing in front of two of the many abandoned cars on the road. You were taking a look around at your surroundings when you heard steady breathing behind one of the two cars you’re near. Bucky quietly and cautiously moved alongside one of the cars as you walked towards where he was just hiding. Bucky pokes his head out of his hiding spot again. He aims the gun at you, but you turned around before he could shoot at you. He quickly hides back behind the car when you started shooting at him. He blindly shot at you till he was out of bullets.

“Shit.” Bucky mutters when he ran out of bullets.

Bucky got up and ran. He had no idea where he was running. He was just trying to get out of the way of the Winter Soldier before he got killed by you. You chased after him and jumped onto his back, tackling him to the ground. Bucky pushes you off of him and scrambles to stand up. The two of you were standing a few feet apart and staring each other down like you two are in the Wild West. He watches your every move. You got a knife out of the holster on your thigh, flipping it in your hand before throwing it at him. Bucky dodged it and it got embedded into a car behind him. You huffed loudly before getting a gun out of the holster on your other thigh.

“Bucky!” Steve whisper yells.

Bucky looks over at Steve. Steve tosses Bucky his shield as you cocked the gun. Bucky shields himself with the shield when you started shooting at him. He walked towards you and knocked the gun out of your hand with the shield. That’s when you resorted to throwing punches at him. Bucky avoided every single punch by dodging them or holding up the shield. You quickly grew frustrated and took the shield away from him, tossing it behind you.

Bucky ran away from you again. Again, you chased after him and jumped onto his back. He didn’t fall to the ground this time. He stops running and grabs ahold of you and throws you off of him. You did a roll as you landed on the ground, your mask falling off in the process. You stood up and faced Bucky with a murderous look on your face. Bucky’s eyes went eye at what he was seeing. You- his wife who died in 1945.

“Y/N?” Bucky asks.

“Who the hell is Y/N?” You asked.

As you pulled another gun out to shoot Bucky, Sam flies down and knocks you down. Steve and Natasha came running up next to Bucky. Steve is just as shocked as Bucky when he saw you. Bucky saw Natasha aim a gun at you from the corner of his eye.

“Don’t shoot her!” Bucky exclaims, smacking the gun out of her hand.

When Bucky looked back at you, you were gone like you vanished into thin air. Bucky’s knees went weak and gave out, which made him fall to the ground. His eyes teared up and tears began to stream down his face.

“My wife is alive.” Bucky says more to himself.

Bucky knows what he has to do now. He has to save you from HYDRA and get through to you. That’s what he’s exactly going to do. He got suited up in his old Army uniform in hopes that it’ll spark your memory and you’ll remember him. He didn’t take any weapons with him. Is that dangerous? Yes, but he can take whatever you’re going to do to him. He knows you won’t kill him. Now, he’s standing across from you on the helicarrier. His breathing makes a hitching sound.

“Please don’t make me do this, Y/N.” Bucky says.

You didn’t say a word. You just stared at him with no emotion on your face. Bucky doesn’t want to do this. He doesn’t want to fight you, but it looks like he doesn’t have a choice. He watches your every move, starting with you getting a knife out of the holster on your thigh. You flipped it in your hand before approaching him with it. You raise your arm to stab him, but he catches your arm before you can. You lifted your free hand to get the knife to try to stab him again, but he catches your other arm as well. You narrowed your eyes at him, growing frustrated with him. You lifted one of your legs, kneeing him in his stomach, which made him let go of your arms. As Bucky was doubled over after you kneed him in his stomach, you took the opportunity to stab him again. He catches your arm yet again. You two fought in that position for a moment, which ended up with you two falling onto the floor of the helicarrier. That’s when you finally stabbed him. Bucky hisses in pain. You still didn’t have any emotion on your face whatsoever.

“Y/N, please. This isn’t you. You’re not a killer. I know you’re not. You’re my wife.” Bucky says.

That didn’t ring any bells for you.

“Your name is Y/N Barnes. You and I have been married for years.” He says.

“Shut up!” You shouted.

Bucky managed to flip the two of you over so now he’s pinning you to the floor. He pins your arms above your head with his hands and pins your legs down with his legs.

“This isn’t you, Y/N and you know it.” He says.

Since your arms and legs were pinned down, you head butted him to get him off of you, giving him a bloody nose. You went to run away from him, but he runs after you and tackles you to the floor, pinning you to the floor again, but this time, he was holding you down by your shoulders.

“Y/N, please! You have to remember! Remember the love we have!” He pleads.

Bucky didn’t see you take your gun out of your thigh holster. He didn’t register that you had a gun in your hand till you shot him in his abdomen. He gasps in pain and freezes. He looks down at where you shot him, blood pouring out of his abdomen. You pushed him off of you and got on top of him. You began to throw punches at him. Bucky just laid there and took it.

“You’re my mission.” You say.

“Then finish it. Just know, I love you and I forgive you for this.” Bucky says.

You stared down at Bucky with wide eyes, breathing heavily and your fist in the air. That’s when everything was coming back to you. The man you’re about to kill is your husband. Then the glass beneath you two gave out. You grabbed onto a metal bar and looked downwards as you watched your husband fall into the water. You let go of the metal bar, falling into the water. You swam over to Bucky and grabbed onto him, pulling him out of the water and onto the shoreline. He was unconscious. You crouched down to get a good look at him. Your eyes teared up at what you could’ve possibly done to him. You reached a hand out to him, caressing his cheek.

“I am so sorry, honey.” You say softly, your voice cracking.

You stood up, taking one last look at your husband before leaving. You have no idea where you’re going yet, but you have to go fast and far before you get caught. It wasn’t long till Steve, Sam, and Natasha found Bucky lying unconscious on the shoreline. Their hearts dropped to the pits of their stomachs, thinking that he’s dead. They ran over to him and crouched down next to him. Steve checked Bucky’s pulse. They felt relieved to know that he’s alive. Sam and Natasha helped Steve get Bucky back to their apartment. They got him in his bed and patched up. The three of them took turns watching over him to make sure that he’s ok. Bucky was unconscious for the rest of the day and most of the next morning. He groans in pain as he woke up the next morning. He saw a bandage on his shoulder and abdomen. He looked over at the empty spot on his bed, expecting you to be there, but you weren’t. He frantically sat up, ignoring the pain he’s currently feeling.

“Where’s Y/N?” Bucky asks frantically.

“Buck, calm down. Everything is alright.” Steve says.

“Everything is not alright! I need to know where Y/N is! Tell me where my wife is!” Bucky exclaims frantically.

“I don’t know.” Steve says.

“What do you mean you don’t know?!” Bucky asks.

“She wasn’t there when we found you unconscious on the shoreline. She pulled you out of the water and went on the run.” Steve says.

“I need to go find her! She needs me!” Bucky exclaims frantically.

Steve got up and tried to keep Bucky in bed.

“Steve, I need to go find my wife! She needs me!” Bucky exclaims again.

“I know you do, but you need to heal first. You’re not going to do yourself any good if you injure yourself more.” Steve says.

Steve’s eighth and Bucky knows it. All he wants to do is find you, but he doesn’t want to injure himself more. While he’s healing, he can track you down by using a laptop. He can do that from bed, which is exactly what he’s going to do.

2 YEARS LATER…

It took two years for Bucky to track you down. He felt somewhat relaxed when he found out where you’re hiding out, which is Bucharest, Romania. He’s not going to you as a former SHIELD agent and an Avenger. He’s going to you as your husband. He’s going alone too. He didn’t want you to get overwhelmed if Steve and the Avengers came with him. He knew you would be a lot more calm with him.

When Bucky finally found the apartment complex you’ve been hiding out in for the past two years, he looked for your apartment next. When he finally found it, he pressed his ear against the door to hear if you’re in there or not. He can hear you walking around inside of the apartment. You jumped and yelped when Bucky knocked on the door. You couldn’t help but be on edge. Who could it be? No one knows you’re here. You walked over to the door and looked through the peephole, your eyes widening when you saw your husband. As you went to open the door, your hand hovered over the doorknob for a few seconds before opening the door. You stepped aside, allowing him to come inside. You closed and locked the door afterwards.

“What are you doing here, Bucky?” You asked.

“I could ask you the same question.” Bucky says.

“You know why I’m here.” You say.

“You didn’t have to run, Y/N. You know I can protect you.” He says.

“I did have to run.” You say.

“Can you at least tell me why you ran?” He asks.

“I couldn’t stay knowing that I tried to kill my husband. What I did was unforgivable. I hate myself for what I did to you. That’s why I ran.” You say, your voice cracking.

“Do you want to know what you running did to me? I woke up, expecting you to be right by my side, but you weren’t there. Steve was the one who told me that you went on the run. That left me heartbroken. I wanted you to be home with me. So, I’ve been tracking you down for two years. That’s why I’m here. I’m here to bring you home with me where you belong.” He says.

“I can’t go home with you, Bucky.” You say.

“Yes, you can. We can pick up where we left off before you fell off of the train. Remember the love we have? Our love is unbreakable.” He says.

“Things aren’t like what they used to be.” You say.

“They can be if you come home with me.” He says.

“I’m not going home with you. I’m fine here.” You say.

Bucky takes a look around your small apartment. It doesn’t look homey to him. It’s not homey at all.

“You’re seriously saying that you’d much rather live here than go home with me- your husband?” Bucky asks.

“I’m staying here. End of discussion.” You say.

“No, not end of discussion! You’re coming home with me and that’s final!” He says, raising his voice.

“You can’t tell me where I can and can not live.” You say.

“In this case, I can. You and I are married. We should be living together like every married couple.” He says.

“Can you really say that we’re married after I tried to kill you two years ago?” You asked.

“Yes, we are! I forgave you for what you did to me.” He says.

“You shouldn’t have. I tried to kill you. That’s unforgivable.” You say.

Bucky walks closer to you. Due to the height difference between you and him, you looked up at him. One of his hands caresses your cheek.

“I forgive you.” Bucky says softly.

You couldn’t help but break down into tears. Your knees gave out on you. Bucky was quick to catch you. You cried in his arms. He always hated it when you cried. It broke his heart.

“Do you still love me?” Bucky asks softly.

“I never stopped loving you.” You say.

“That’s a huge sign that you should come home to me.” He says.

“I already told you that I can’t come home to you, James.” You say, your voice cracking.

“You can, doll.” He says so softly that it almost sounded like a whisper.

There it is. There’s that nickname that always made you always loved so much. He gave you that nickname on yours and his first date. You sniffled and looked up at him.

“You called me doll.” You say.

“It’s nickname I gave you on our first date.” Bucky says softly.

“I love that nickname.” You smiled.

“So do I.” He smiles back.

You and him gazed into each other’s eyes for a few seconds before kissing. The kiss started off soft and passionate at first, but then it got heated fast. You put your hands on his chest, rubbing them up and down before pushing his jacket off of his shoulders. Bucky took it off and dropped it on the floor. He took his shoes off before lowering the two of you to the mattress you have on the living room floor. You two undressed each other as if you two are in a hurry.

“James.” You panted.

“Yes, doll?” Bucky asks as he kisses along your neck.

“Please do something!” You whined.

“Your wish is my command, babydoll.” He says softly.

Bucky kisses his way down your body. You giggled softly when his beard tickled your skin. He settles himself in between your legs after you spread them. He places soft kisses on your inner thighs, making his way up to your pussy. A shiver went through your body when you felt his breath on your pussy. Bucky looks up at you, patiently waiting for you to give him permission to go further, in which you did. He always did that years ago. You always found it sweet. You gasped when his tongue licks a stripe on your pussy. He did that a couple more times before latching his lips on your clit. Your hands went down to his head, tugging on his hair as he ate you out like a starved man. It’s been so long since you’ve felt any kind of pleasure that you almost forgot what it felt like to be eaten out by your husband. Keyword, almost.

“Oh fuck, James!” You moaned.

Your moans are like music to Bucky’s ears. They always are. Also, you moaning for him went straight to his cock, making it uncomfortably hard. He tried to push that to the back of his mind for the moment. All he cares about in this moment is your pleasure. He always put your pleasure before his. He did that years ago too.

Bucky’s eyes flickered up at you, making eye contact with you while he sucked on your clit. He kept his eyes on yours as he slides two fingers into your pussy. Your mouth falls open as he did so, a gasp leaving your lips. His fingers fucked you at a steady pace as he continues to suck on your clit. Your grip on his hair tightens.

“Please don’t stop!” You moaned.

He didn’t stop one bit. He was urged on. Bucky’s fingers moved faster and takes his lips off of your clit to flick your clit with his tongue. His fingers and tongue moved at the same pace. His name and cuss words were falling from your lips in repeated chants. You never wanted this feeling to stop, but it looks like it’s going to. Your orgasm is building up. You’re getting closer and closer as Bucky continues his movements with his tongue and fingers. He sensed it as well and sped up his movements. Your hips bucked against his face and your legs began to tremble a bit.

“Fuck! Right there, baby!” You moaned when his fingers hit that one spot inside of you.

His fingers continued to hit that spot inside of you, which made your orgasm build up even more. Your thighs are trembling against the sides of his head. Your grip tightens on his hair again. You’re right there. When you came, you moaned his name so loud that it echoes off of the walls of the small apartment. Bucky’s fingers fucked you through your orgasm. He gives your clit a few more licks before taking his tongue away from your clit and his fingers out of your pussy. You whined at the loss of contact of his fingers and tongue, but then you realized that you’re going to get something just as great in a short moment. Bucky sat up and hovered over you, gazing down at you as you panted heavily.

“You think you got another one in you, babydoll?” Bucky asks softly.

“You bet your ass I do, babe.” You grinned.

Bucky’s grins back at you. You giggled as he flips you over onto your stomach. His hands find their place on your hips, lifting you up so your ass is sticking out towards him. You moaned softly when you felt his hard cock against your ass, his precum smearing against your skin. You looked over your shoulder at your husband.

“Please, honey.” You begged softly, rubbing yourself against his cock.

“Fuck.” Bucky moans softly.

Bucky wraps his hand around his cock, stroking it a few times before rubbing it through your slick. You whined out of desperation and pressed yourself against him.

“James!” You whined loudly.

“Don’t worry, doll face. I’m going to give you what you want.” He says softly, his hand gently patting your asscheek.

Bucky lines his cock at your entrance and slowly slides it into your pussy. Your mouth falls open, a soft moan falling from your lips. You can tell that he’s definitely a bit bigger than he was years ago, but you’re not complaining one bit.

“You’re so big.” You moaned.

Bucky’s pelvis presses against your ass when his cock was fully inside of you. You’re probably exaggerating for thinking this, but it feels like you can feel him everywhere inside of you. Again, just exaggerated thinking. Maybe it’s because of how full his cock is making you feel. Again, you’re not complaining one bit.

“I feel so full of you.” You say.

“Oh yea?” Bucky says.

You hummed softly and rocked yourself against him for some kind of friction. Bucky took that as a sign that he should start fucking you. His hands rest on your hips as he begins thrusting. His thrusts started off slow and steady. You love that pace. You really do, but you need more than that.

“You can be rougher if you want. I don’t mind.” You say, looking over your shoulder at him.

“Are you sure, doll? I don’t want to accidentally hurt you.” He says sweetly.

Your heart skips a beat at how sweet your husband is.

“I’m not made of glass, Bucky. I can take anything you give me.” You say.

“Ok.” He says.

Bucky’s thrusting pace changes like a switch flipped inside of him. One of his hands slides up the length of your spine and grabs a handful of your hair, yanking you up towards him so now your back is against his chest. You squeaked in surprise. You forgot what your husband is capable of when it comes to sex.

“This is what you wanted, right? Rougher? You taking anything I give you?” Bucky asks softly in your ear.

“Yes!” You gasped. “This is exactly what I wanted!” You moaned.

“Good, because I’m not stopping.” He nearly growls.

You never wanted him to stop. The sound of skin slapping echoes off of the walls in the small apartment. Your hands scramble to find something to hold onto. You ended up grabbing ahold of Bucky’s thighs, digging your nails into his skin. He hisses at the feeling. Bucky’s free hand slides from your hip, up your stomach, and stopping at your breasts. He put his hand on one of them and just left it there. His hand occasionally gave it a squeeze.

“Fuck. You feel so good.” Bucky moans, leaning his forehead against your shoulder for a moment.

Bucky kisses from your shoulder and up to your neck. He moves your head to the side so he can have access to your neck. You gasped when his teeth bites down on your skin hard enough to mark you up. He marks your neck up like he’s creating a piece of artwork. To him, that’s what it looks like when he looks at the hickeys he put on your neck.

“So beautiful.” He says against your skin, kissing each and every one of the hickeys he put on your neck.

Eventually, Bucky lets go of your hair. His hand goes in between your legs, blindly finding your clit. You squeaked and bucked your hips against his hand when his fingers pinched your clit. He chuckles against your neck. Bucky’s fingers began to rub your clit in fast circles. Your back arches off of him, which presses your breast more into his hand.

“Yea, you like that, don’t you, babydoll?” Bucky says.

You nodded rapidly in response, but that wasn’t a good enough answer for him. His fingers pinched your clit, making you squeak again.

“Use your words.” He says.

“Yes! I like it!” You finally say.

Bucky’s fingers tried to match the pace of his thrusts. Your head falls back against his shoulder. Your second orgasm was building up. You can feel it deep inside of you that you’re getting closer to coming. Your moans kept getting louder and your nails kept digging into his thighs.

“I- oh fuck!” You moaned.

You weren’t able to form any kind of sentence. That’s how good it feels.

“Huh? What was that, doll face?” Bucky asks.

“I’m going to cum!” You’re finally able to say.

“I know you are. I can feel how close you are.” He says softly in your ear.

“Please!” You begged.

“Please what?” He playfully teases.

“Let me cum!” You begged.

“You have to cum that bad, huh?” He continues to tease you.

“Bucky, please! Stop teasing me and let me cum!” You whined.

Bucky chuckles softly before responding.

“Alright. You can cum.” He says.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you came hard, soaking his cock and thighs. His name leaves your lips in a loud moan, echoing off of the small walls of the apartment.

“Atta girl.” Bucky praises.

Bucky’s fingers gave your clit a few more rubs before focusing on his own orgasm, which isn’t too far behind yours. His thrusts didn’t falter for a second. It’s like his thrusts got faster and faster the closer he got to coming. When he finally does, a guttural moan leaves his lips and his hips still against your ass, his cum filling your pussy to the brim. You two remained in that position for a few seconds before he pulls out of you, a white ring of cum on the base of his cock. You two laid down next to each other on the mattress and covered up with one of the many blankets you have on the mattress. You snuggled yourself against his side as he wraps his arm around you. You draped your arm across his stomach and you laid your head on his chest. The sound of his heartbeat was soothing. You two laid in silence for a few minutes while you two caught your breaths.

“I don’t remember the last time I came that hard.” You say after a few minutes.

“Neither do I.” Bucky says.

You and Bucky bursted out laughing for a moment. When yours and his laughter dies down, you lifted your head to look at him.

“In all seriousness, I did miss you a lot during my time in HYDRA.” You say softly.

“I missed you a lot too.” He says just as softly.

You leaned down and kissed him softly and sweetly.

“Please come home to me, babydoll. I can’t live my life without you. I don’t want to spend another second of my life without you in it. You’re my whole entire life.” He says.

Your eyes teared up at his words. He always knew the sweetest things to say no matter what the situation is.

“I can’t imagine my life without you in it either.” You say softly. “Especially, after what we just did.” You say.

“Does that mean you’re coming home to me?” He asks.

Instead of saying yes, you kissed him.

“I’m taking that as a yes.” He says.

“Yes times a million.” You say.

Bucky smiles against your lips and rolls on top of you, putting his weight on his forearms so he didn’t accidentally crush you.

“I love you more than anything, doll.” Bucky almost whispers.

“I love you too, sweetheart.” You say just as softly.

Their meetings soon developed a rhythm neither of them acknowledged aloud.

Midnight.

Always midnight.

Some nights they spoke for an hour before parting reluctantly at the garden door.

Other nights the conversation drifted so easily that they barely noticed time passing until the eastern sky began to pale.

What surprised Beatrice most was how effortless it felt.

During the day her life was an intricate dance of expectations.

She smiled politely at suitors who complimented her embroidery or remarked upon the elegance of her gown. She attended musicals and garden parties where the same polite conversations circled endlessly, estates, investments, horses, weather.

But beneath the wisteria she did not need to perform.

She could simply exist.

And John, freed from the constant weight of his role within the household, revealed a side of himself few people likely saw.

He was thoughtful in a quiet way.

Sometimes wryly funny.

And far more curious about the world than most gentlemen she had met.

One evening she arrived to find him standing beneath the archway, studying the blossoms above their heads with quiet concentration.

“You are examining flowers now?” she asked, amused.

He glanced down at her, slightly sheepish. “They smell different at night.”

Beatrice tilted her head thoughtfully and leaned closer to one of the blossoms. The faint fragrance was indeed stronger than she remembered from the afternoon.

“…they do.”

“Many flowers release stronger scent after sunset,” he said. “To attract nocturnal pollinators.”

She blinked at him. “You have an alarming quantity of information about insects.”

“I read when I can.”

“You read?” The surprise escaped her before she could stop it.

A faint blush touched his expression. “Occasionally.”

“What sort of books?”

He hesitated briefly before answering. “Natural philosophy.”

Beatrice’s eyes lit instantly. “Science.”

“Some would call it that.”

“I adore science.”

That earned a slightly surprised look. “You do?”

“I spent an entire winter reading about astronomy,” she said proudly.

His mouth curved faintly. “That explains your questions about stars last week.”

She leaned against the wooden post of the archway, still holding his hand.

“I think the universe is far more interesting than most gentlemen in London.”

John chuckled softly.

The sound was warm and low, and she felt a ridiculous thrill at being the cause of it.

“That is not a particularly difficult achievement.”

Beatrice laughed. She had always enjoyed observing people. It was a habit she shared with Benedict. But John fascinated her in ways she had not expected.

Sometimes he spoke about books he had borrowed quietly from the library.

Sometimes he described strange mechanical inventions he had once read about.

Once he explained how telescopes worked using two pieces of broken glass and a lantern as demonstration.

And sometimes,when the conversation grew lighter, Beatrice discovered something surprising about herself. She became… silly.

Comfortable enough to tease him.

Comfortable enough to laugh without worrying whether it sounded ladylike.

One night she attempted to imitate the stiff bow of a particularly pompous gentleman who had called earlier that day.

John nearly choked with laughter.

“You should not mock your suitors so mercilessly,” he said once he recovered.

“I am observing them,” she corrected.

“That was not observation. That was theatrical performance.”

She grinned.

Moments like that made her chest feel strangely light. And each night she noticed something else.

How warm his hand felt around hers.

How easily their shoulders brushed when they walked the garden path.

How much she enjoyed the sound of his quiet laughter.

Their relationship unfolded slowly. Painfully slowly.

John possessed an almost infuriating sense of restraint.

He allowed small gestures of closeness, holding hands, walking beside one another, occasional quiet embraces when the night air grew cold.

But there were boundaries he refused to cross. Beatrice began noticing it after several weeks. Gentlemen she had danced with in ballrooms often attempted flirtations far bolder than anything John allowed himself.

Lord Harcourt had once tried to kiss her hand twice during a single evening. Another gentleman had leaned suspiciously close while discussing poetry.

John, however, behaved as though the very idea of such liberties terrified him.

Eventually curiosity overcame patience.

They were sitting beneath the wisteria one evening, their shoulders brushing lightly as they watched moonlight filter through the blossoms.

“John.”

“Yes?”

“Why do you never kiss me?” The question slipped out before she could soften it.

He froze immediately.

Then he looked away.

“Because,” he said quietly, “I will not take something that belongs to your future husband.”

The answer surprised her. “You are my future husband,” she said softly without a second thought.

He shook his head at once. “No.”

The single word struck deeper than she expected.

“You deserve a man who can stand beside you openly,” he continued. “A gentleman who can give you the life expected of you.”

“And you believe you cannot?”

“I know I cannot.”

She studied him for several long seconds.

Then, slightly exasperated, she leaned forward and kissed his cheek. The gesture startled him so completely he nearly lost his composure.

“That,” she said calmly, “was merely affection.”

He stared at her. “You are dangerous.”

“I have been told that before.” But as she leaned against him again, Beatrice felt something shifting quietly inside her heart.

Because when she imagined her future husband now…

It was John she saw.

Not in servant’s clothing.

But walking beside her openly.

Laughing with Benedict.

Arguing politely with Anthony.

Standing beside her beneath the same wisteria tree in daylight.

She never spoke the thought aloud. But the image returned again and again.

One night their conversation drifted longer than usual.

They spoke about childhood memories, Colin’s endless travel dreams, Benedict’s artistic experiments, Eloise’s fierce arguments about women’s independence.

Hours slipped by unnoticed.

Eventually Beatrice began shivering.

John noticed immediately.

“You should return inside.”

“It is warmer here than my room tonight.”

“Why?”

“Anthony insists the windows remain open for fresh air.”

He sighed quietly. “Come.”

She followed him through a rarely used servant’s corridor to a small spare room. It was simple but warm. Beatrice sat on the edge of the bed, wrapping the blanket he fetched around her shoulders.

Silence settled between them. Eventually she leaned against him. “You may push me away,” she murmured. “If this is improper.”

He did not move. Instead his arm rested lightly around her shoulders. The warmth of him seeped slowly through the blanket.

Minutes passed. Then more.

Eventually exhaustion overtook them both. They drifted asleep fully clothed. Her head resting against his shoulder. His arm loosely around her.

Nothing scandalous. Nothing improper.

And yet for John it was perhaps the most dangerous thing that had ever happened. Because holding her like that made it almost impossible to imagine letting her go.

Not long afterward Benedict returned from the countryside.

Something about him had changed. Beatrice noticed immediately. He seemed distracted. Restless. Quieter than usual in moments when he would normally joke.

Three days later she cornered him in the hallway.

“You have been behaving strangely.”

“I have not.”

“You absolutely have.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Just tired.”

“That is a poor lie.”

He sighed. “You would not understand.”

The words stung unexpectedly. “Would not understand?”

“This is… complicated.”

“Then explain it.”

“Bea,” he said finally, frustration slipping into his voice. “You live in a world of polite dances and careful conversations. This situation is not like that.”

“I am not a child.”

“I did not say you were.”

“You implied it.”

He hesitated. Then he made the mistake. “You have never been in love, Beatrice.”

The corridor fell silent.

She stared at him. “You think I cannot understand love?”

“I think,” Benedict said carefully, “you have never had to choose between love and everything else.”

He walked away moments later. But his words lingered in her thoughts.

Oh how wrong he was.

Because hearing them made a realization settle quietly in her heart.

Perhaps she would choose love.

Even if it meant giving up everything else.

Soon after, still determined to help her brother, Beatrice became acquainted with a gentleman who frequently visited the house.

Lord Daniel Harcourt.

He was charming, intelligent, and particularly eager to discuss Benedict’s artistic circles.

Their conversations were pleasant. Entirely innocent.

But society possessed an unfortunate talent for imagination. Within two weeks the ton had decided they were courting.

Beatrice noticed the whispers.

She also noticed something else.

John had grown quieter.

He still appeared beneath the wisteria.

At first.

But something had shifted. He listened more than he spoke. He watched her carefully whenever Lord Harcourt’s name appeared in conversation.

And one evening, after she laughed about something the gentleman had said, John’s expression tightened.

“Perhaps he will prove suitable,” John said quietly.

The words felt wrong.

“He's nothing but a friend John. You sound as though you hope that is true.”

“I hope you find happiness.”

The formality in his voice unsettled her.

“You are being strange.”

“I am being practical.”

“You cannot remain hidden in gardens forever, Beatrice.”

The use of her full name made something twist painfully in her chest.

“And when the right gentleman appears…” He forced himself to finish. “…you deserve the chance to pursue that future.”

Understanding dawned slowly.

“You intend to disappear.”

The silence answered her.

She felt sudden frustration rise.

“You are insufferable.”

“I am realistic.”

Instead of arguing, she leaned forward and kissed his cheek again.

One afternoon, Beatrice walked into the Bridgerton hallway and immediately sensed something unusual.

Daphne stood in the study room looking frustrated. Anthony stood several feet away looking defensive. Between them hung the sort of tense silence that usually preceded a family argument.

“Should I return later?” Beatrice asked mildly.

Daphne exhaled sharply. “I have just witnessed our brother kissing Miss Sharma.”

"I did not!"

"Well with that proximity and tension, you might as well have!"

Anthony groaned.

Beatrice blinked.

“Well,” she said after a moment, “that does complicate matters.”

Anthony rubbed his temple.

“You see? Even Beatrice thinks this is a disaster.”

“I did not say disaster,” she replied calmly. “Merely complicated.”

Daphne crossed her arms.

“You are courting her sister, Anthony.”

“Yes, I am painfully aware of that.”

The conversation continued for several tense minutes. Eventually Daphne left with a final exasperated remark. Anthony remained standing looking like a man who had accidentally stepped into emotional quicksand.

Beatrice lingered.

“You love her,” she said quietly.

Anthony looked startled. “That is absurd.”

“Is it?”

He did not answer immediately.

Beatrice studied him thoughtfully. “You know,” she continued, “sometimes the person we intend to choose is not the one our heart chooses.”

Anthony sighed. “I cannot marry for love.”

“You already have.”

He stared at her.

“That,” Beatrice added gently, “is the problem.”

Later that evening, Beatrice found herself alone in her room replaying that conversation.

Anthony had fallen for Kate with remarkable intensity.

Despite his carefully planned intentions.

Despite society’s expectations.

Despite every practical reason not to.

And that realization stirred an uncomfortable thought inside her mind.

Three seasons.

Three entire seasons within the marriage market. She had followed Daphne’s advice. She had learned how to perform society’s expectations with grace.

She had danced.

She had conversed.

She had accepted introductions to countless eligible gentlemen.

And yet…

Nothing had truly stirred her heart. Not even slightly.

Perhaps I am simply not meant for marriage.

The idea did not feel tragic exactly. But it did carry a faint, unexpected ache. Because watching Anthony and Kate made one thing very clear.

Love existed.

Real love.

The sort that unraveled carefully constructed plans.

Would she ever experience something like that?

Or was she destined to remain the thoughtful observer while everyone else lived the story?

That evening she walked to the garden.

The wisteria branches swayed gently in the evening breeze, their long leaves brushing softly against one another like whispered secrets.

John was already there.

He straightened slightly when he saw her approach. “Miss Bridgerton.”

“John.”

She sat on the familiar bench beneath the tree and sighed.

“That sounded like the sigh of a philosopher confronting the universe,” he observed.

She gave a faint laugh. “Or perhaps simply a woman confronting the ton.”

He waited patiently.

Eventually she spoke. “Anthony is hopelessly in love with Kate Sharma.”

“That seems… inconvenient.”

“Extremely.” She leaned back against the bench. “And it made me realize something rather unpleasant.”

John remained silent.

“I may end up a spinster.”

She attempted to smile. “It appears I have attended three seasons without discovering a single gentleman capable of inspiring romantic interest.”

John felt an odd tightening in his chest.

She continued thoughtfully. “Anthony, of all people, found love accidentally.”

“Yes.”

“So perhaps there is something wrong with me.”

“There is nothing wrong with you.”

She shrugged. “Perhaps I simply think too much.”

John looked at her carefully.

Then he began speaking.

Not loudly.

Not dramatically.

Just quietly listing the things he had noticed over the years.

“You remember every servant’s name in this house.”

She blinked slightly. “That is merely politeness.”

“You notice when Mrs. Wilson is tired and bring her tea without mentioning it.”

“That hardly counts.”

“You sit with Gregory when he struggles with his Latin lessons.”

“He becomes terribly discouraged.”

“You stayed up half the night helping Hyacinth repair her broken doll because she believed it was beyond saving.”

Beatrice stared at him now. “You remember those things?”

“I notice things.” His voice grew softer.

“You laugh with your brothers as though they are still the mischievous boys you grew up with.” He hesitated.

“And when people feel uncomfortable in crowded rooms… you are usually the first person to quietly rescue them with conversation.”

The air beneath the wisteria tree seemed to still. John rarely spoke this much. But Beatrice felt something warm settle in her chest.

“You make it sound as though I am remarkable.”

“You are.” The word slipped out before he could stop it.

Silence followed. The kind of silence that feels like standing at the edge of a cliff.

He exhaled slowly.

“If the world cannot see your worth,” he said quietly, “then the world is blind.”

Beatrice’s voice softened. “You speak very kindly of me, John.”

He looked away briefly. “It is merely the truth.”

A long pause settled between them.

Then she said something very quietly. “Would you want me?”

John’s head turned toward her sharply. “What?”

Her voice trembled slightly. “If I truly am destined to remain unmarried…” She attempted a faint smile. “…would someone like you ever wish to marry someone like me?”

The question hung in the air like fragile glass.

John felt his carefully guarded restraint crumble.

More than anything in this world.

The truth rose inside him with frightening clarity.

“If the stars themselves descended to ask what I desire most…” His voice lowered. “…I believe my answer would be sitting beside me already.”

Beatrice inhaled slowly. The wisteria leaves rustled softly overhead. She reached up gently and removed the formal wig he wore as part of his servant’s uniform. His hair fell loose across his forehead. John hesitated before brushing a stray curl away from her face.

Something he had never dared do before.

Something he probably should never have done at all.

But beneath the willow tree, the world felt strangely distant.

Their eyes met.

She did not pull away. Instead she moved closer.

And then she hugged him.

The gesture was so sudden John froze entirely. Beatrice wrapped her arms around him as though seeking warmth. Tentatively, almost reverently, he placed his hands around her waist.

Neither spoke.

In that moment there was no footman.

No Bridgerton daughter.

Just John.

Just Beatrice.

And without announcing it to anyone, not society, not their family, not even fully to themselves...

They began something impossible.

A secret courtship.

“I’ll go find out, look after your brother and keep practicing” he kisses the side of her head, before setting her beside him, and walking straight to the door. 

…

“James Buchanan Barnes?” is the first thing Bucky hears from a pristine young-man standing on his welcome mat. A pressed black dress shirt, green tailored pants, a green tie, with shining wing tipped black shoes, and a side cap dresses up the man. 

The man’s eyes are void, almost sad (if he could guess) and he has to stop himself from looking at the gash on his cheek. 

“Yes."

An envelope is thrusted towards him and his heart drops, he could hear it shatter from a mile away. His ma wouldn’t take well to this, his sister wouldn’t, Steve definitely wouldn't, weeks without seeing his kid’s bright face would kill him. Y/n. 

“What is this?” he looks down at the letter accusingly, keeping his trembling hands by his side. 

“Mr. Barnes” The man persists, his voice softer it seems, as if he gives his condolences. 

“Thank you” Bucky has no choice but to smile and take the letter from the man’s outstretched hand. 

The man gives a curt nod in response and walks away, to hover a stormy cloud over someone else’s bright day it seems. It seems the list can only grow larger, will it ever end? He shuts the door and stares down at the envelope in his hands. His name and the address of their home is written neatly in the middle. 

He rips the bandage off his bruise. Ripping into the envelope until the letter is open and held between his hands, and his eyes fly over the ink. 

To, James Buchanan Barnes

notified that you been selected…army

report to the Local Board named above at 107th Infantry Regiment.

10:00 am on the 26 day of February, 1942. 

Only a week. 

“Daddy!” Addy calls for him impatiently. 

“One- one second, sweet girl. Just need to talk your ma for a split” he shouts back, before hearing her dramatic sigh in response. 

He strides to the stark white door of her sewing room, knocks once to get her attention then walks in. His wife is sitting at her sewing table, whose eyebrows are knit and her bottom lip rolled in. Just like his sweet Addie. Unlike many men, James had no problem letting everyone know both their kiddos got their brightness from Y/n. 

“Honey,” Bucky calls out, fingers fiddling with the papers. 

“Yes? I’m almost done, honey, do the kids need anything?” she glances up swiftly, then goes back to her work. 

“I just need to talk to you for a quick second, if that’s alright.” 

She removes her hand from the crank of the sewing machine. Noticing the worry clouding her husband's features. The swish of her polka dotted, a-line dress fills the air.  

Her hand clutches the lapel of his striped suit, while the other splays against his forehead, “What’s wrong, honey, are you out of sorts?” His skin felt normal and his eyes weren’t the prickly pink they usually were when he was sick. 

“No, no, I’m solid.”

At least he hopes he would be, he thinks to himself. Removing her hand from his forehead and kissing her knuckles gently. He can subconsciously feel the heat rising in her cheeks, watching her eyes look at anywhere but him. 

Time to rip off the second bandage. He raises the letter between the two of you. She stops and stares intently at the piece of paper and the envelope next to it. 

“What is this?” she asks, staring into his sky-blue eyes. 

Bucky doesn’t need to say anything, his softening eyes tell her everything she needs to know. Bucky couldn’t fool the young man at his step, and there was no way Y/n would be able to fool Bucky. 

“I leave in a week”

She lets out a breath, before she’s stepping away. One hand splays over her waist while the other presses a hand to her throat. Her head shakes side to side as tears pool in her eyes. She shouldn’t be surprised, Bucky is perfect in every way. Healthy in every way, of course he would be drafted. They both knew this, when was the only question that dangled in front of their faces.

“It’ll be okay. Doll, look at me” he clasps your flushed face tilting it up. 

“Oh, Bucky this is-- this is--” her words break up and before she knows it she’s broken into an uncontrollable sob, shoulders bobbing and an unbroken stream falls down her face. 

He hushes you, bringing you to his chest as his hands run up and down your back. 

“You can’t leave me, us… Trash it!” you pull away, eyes wide and tinted. “They’ll never know, Bucky”

“Honey, you’re talking junk, you know that can’t happen.” he coos, his palms take her face once again, thumbs running circles on her cheeks. 

“Please.” 

She wasn’t in her right mind is the only excuse she can think of. Her mind is running a mile a minute with a thousand gory scenarios, things she’s only read about and heard about. She didn’t want any of that for Bucky. 

“It’ll be okay, I’ll be okay and i’ll come to the three of you in one piece” he crouches down slightly, so you’re at the same eye level “I promise” he speaks softly. 

“You can’t promise something like that”

“I can and I will” he brings you into his chest, kissing the top of your head. 

“Would you be dismayed if I proposed that you break a leg? You’d still be an honorable man in my eyes” she says, voice muffled against his dress shirt. 

“It’ll be okay, honey, I promise” he answers with a breathy chuckle at the end. 

-

That night he breaks the news to Addie. She tries to stay strong at first, only humming in response with a tight smile on her face before tears run down her face silently. He consoles her as much as he can. Reassuring her that he would be alright, that everything would be alright. At some point this would all end and she’d have him back in one piece. And it repeats itself twice as he consoles his mother and sister. 

Telling Steve was one of the easiest bandages, no sticky residue was left behind.. He, of course, took in the slight disappointment on Steve’s face. Steve’s been trying like hell to get enlisted, the only thing holding him back was the long list of health issues and his small stature. 

Never the matter, he’s proud of Bucky. He knows his sharp mind will keep him safe. He’ll miss him while he’s gone and he’s promised to keep an eye on his favorite three while they’re gone. As long as he’s known Bucky, never in a million years did he see him falling in love and settling down with anyone.

“Don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone,” Bucky points a playful accusatory finger towards Steve.

Steve only chuckles breathily before he’s slammed into Bucky’s chest. 

-

The week whirls by, as if Y/n’s prayers for the days to slow down even for just a second aren't heard. Just three days ago Bucky stopped by the enlistment depot to get everything he needs, including his uniform. 

Two days ago, after getting home from work, Bucky had taken a quick nap in the living room. George laid on his chest, his chubby cheeks squished against the breast of his coat; and his tiny fist clasped around a lock of Bucky’s hair. On the other side of Bucky, lays Adelaide, who snuggles up to his side while she watches the television. 

Adelaide has stuck to her father’s side like glue this past week. 

You stood by and watched the three silently, like a shadow, knowing days like this were slowly dissipating until his departure. 

His last day at home, Bucky takes his family to Coney Island, their favorite place. Bucky doesn’t let money hold him back as he throws it all away to put a smile on his kid’s faces. He buys them as many tickets as they need, gets them whatever they want to eat, and wins them as many stuffed animals as he can-- sending a wink to his wife as he throws the rings onto the milk bottles. Knowing how bittersweet this moment was, their first date was Coney Island, and now he’s winning her a prize, like all those years ago, except he’s going off to war. 

Presently, the both of you lay in your dimly luminated bedroom. Bucky has just read Adelaide, her last bedtime story for an unknown time, he’s made it extra special by doing a voice for every character and acoustic effects at every scene. 

Your head is laid in the crook of his neck, and a hand runs up and around his toned chest. You’re winded within his arms, his fingers running circles around your shoulder. 

At the moment all you wanted was to sink into him like the sugar cubes in his coffee. You wanted to keep everything about him in eidetic memory. 

The slope and flat bridge of his nose, his startlingly-intense blue eyes that always looked at you with adoration, his always perfectly gelled hair, and his heart of gold that fills his family with love (something most of your friends couldn’t say.) 

Bucky did the same, engraving everything from your scent to the plush of your skin to his mind. 

A moment passes before you speak up. 

“I don’t know what to say, and I know i’ll regret it later”

“You don’t gotta say anything, just promise you’ll take care of yourself and the kids, maybe visit Steve once in a while or invite him to dinner. Just make sure he’s alright?”

You nod in agreement. 

The way Bucky acts on his overcome emotions is automatic. He pulls you in for a searing kiss, his hands roaming all over your body as if it were braille. Your hands rest on his broad shoulders, squeezing them when Bucky pulls away from your lips to your neck. 

The night is full of heavy, panting breaths and scorching, gently touches. 

When Bucky does that trick you love so much, you have to muffle yourself in your pillow. 

The night is filled with sugared words from Bucky. As he calls you his sweet girl, kisses you everywhere he can, and drains you with every push of his hips. 

-

Afterwards, the both of you are slicked in sweat. You both lay on your sides, facing each other, and holding onto each other. Time seems endless in his embrace. 

“J-James” 

Everything overcomes you within minutes, as you cover your face. It’s wretched and draining as the mountain collapses. It was happening. He would be leaving in just a few hours, and there was nothing she could do about it. 

Bucky pulls your head into his chest swiftly, shushing you as he cradles the back of your head. Kissing the top of your head in comfort. 

“You-- You have to p-promise to come back safely.” You pull away from his chest, eyes glazed over in tears. 

“Baby, you know I can’t promise that. All I can tell you is that I’ll try my best. I promise I'll try my best.” 

-

tysm for reading!! I missed writing and can't wait to tell this story <3

"why do you even fight in jeans?" you blurted out, eyes finally flickering up to his face. in your head, you'd worded it a lot better but then again—in your head you were mentally undressing him, so. "like—i don't get it. jeans. you fight in jeans. skinny ones, which makes it worse. how do you like—" you kicked your leg out in a weak imitation of him fighting, looking more like a flailing fish out of water instead. "what's the thought process?"

a beat passed.

and then another.

and then he paused the film and slowly, painfully slowly, turned to face you. "first of all, i do not do that. i have more skill than that." he gestured towards your legs and whatever they'd just done before he carried on. "and second of all, they're efficient." efficient being a codename for the fact he could keep buying the same pair and never have to worry about them again. which technically was efficient, just maybe not in the official meaning of the words. "and oddly comfortable. i dunno, physics or whatever."

you nodded solemnly, like he'd just handed you state secrets is place of an explanation. "surely they're uncomfortable, though." you countered as you reached over and scooped a handful of popcorn out of the bowl—tossing a piece into your mouth. "you'd get way better range in something softer."

"say's the one who fights in full leather."

"easy to clean." you retorted as you tossed a piece of popcorn in his direction, which he caught effortlessly with the tiniest turn of his head. "also makes my ass look real good too, two for one deal, you gotta love it." bucky just scoffed, rolling your eyes as he reached over and grabbed another piece. he wasn't gonna give you the satisfaction of agreeing with you openly, but you definitely had a point—a good one, too. "yeah, well. trying to finish a mission with you and yelena is basically like a catwalk with all the hair flipping and posing you do."

you gasped dramatically, free hand clutching as your chest like he'd mortally wounded you instead. "you don't like my posing?! oh. my heart bleeds, truly. i'll make sure to pass your criticisms onto the red room next time i swing by. they love feedback in between the assassin thing and the mind control."

he snorted, rolling his eyes as your sarcasm. that was one of the things he liked so much about you—you were just like him when it came to the no shit taken, dark humour to deflect attitude, even if it wasn't the healthiest coping mechanism. "think i win the whole brainwashing thing." a grin tugged as the corner of his lips as he stretched his arm across the back of the couch, his hand brushing gently across your shoulders. a comfortable silence settled between the two of you and you felt no desire to fill it. you never did with him, not like you did with everyone else. the tower was loud, and messy, and had somewhat unwelcome memories lurking around every corner—silence was welcome sometimes.

you watched him raise an eyebrow slowly after about a minute and half, watching whatever he was thinking form in real time. "so, you don't like the jeans?" you groaned as you let your head fall back against his arm with the softest of thuds. "because this is a very serious opinion. carries a lot of weight, might make me change up my whole look." he teased, fingers still working away in your hair like it wasn't the big deal that it was.

"i never said i didn't like them!" you huffed, rolling your eyes. "i said i don't get why you fight in them. that's two very different things, and—mh, 's playing dirty." you practically purred as his hand slipped up into your hair, scratching softly at the nape of your neck as you let your eyes flutter shut—a rare moment where everything actually felt safe. it was funny to him that you were the only one who'd managed to take him down in training and sparring and still, he could undo you with a couple of touches like an overgrown house cat.

"they do great things for your thighs." you cracked one eye open just to peek at his shit eating grin when he realised that he'd finally got a confession out of you. "raises the workplace satisfaction score, keeps val happy, y'know the drill."

"never thought my thighs and valentina would be brought up in the same conversation. this is new." he let out a huff that might have been a laugh, could have been an exasperated sigh as you continued to admit that whatever had been bubbling away between you for months ran anything deeper than good looks, his choice in fighting gear, and the copious amount of flirting that drove everyone else crazy.