#bucky has his eyes closed soaking it all in listening to gales soft voice

[shprka]

Need a fic of Gale cleaning Bucky's wounds tenderly when Bucky first gets to the stalag

[hissterical-nyaan]

The Promise

Pairing - Bucky Barnes/Desi! Female reader

Warning - Angst, sad ending, more angst

Summary - Bucky Barnes broke one promise that meant the most to Y/N

Word count - 1.5K

A/N - This is my first ever fanfic, I am very anxious so please be gentle with me :) This was created purely to make y'all cry lol. This is a songfic of "Lag ja gale" of Lata Mangeshkar ji. I absolutely adore that song and found it quite fit for this story!!! Also English isn't my first language and there might be grammatical mistakes. Thanks to @soradragon for beta reading this and helping me complete it, you are a blessing. Love you 💙 happy reading folks!

It was  peaceful in Wakanda, a cool night had taken its place from the hot humid air of the day, the stars were shining bright and serenity hung in the air.  It was impossible to imagine what the next day would have in store for everyone. No one had a clue that tomorrow was the day that would change everyone's lives forever.

There was the sound of soft humming coming from the modest hut which housed the one and only the White Wolf and his lover.

Inside was you, singing songs softly in your mother’s tongue before the two would go to bed for the night. It was a nightly ritual the two of you shared. For Bucky had found your voice so soothing it would chase away the recurring nightmares that would haunt his sleep every night. Bucky Barnes was unable to sleep without his love in his arms, without her angelic voice singing for him, and without her soft hand weaving through his hair. 

You had an awful day today, throughout the day you felt anxious and restless. As if your mind has been screaming at you that something bad was about to transpire. You had no idea what, but it was bad. if there is one thing you hated most, it would be not knowing what will happen next.

You liked being prepared for everything! Your distressed state made you itch for your ma's presence and her wise words. So the next best thing to feel like she was there was to sing your ma's favourite song. It was a song you had  beautiful emotional memories attached to.

Lata ji's masterpiece ‘Lag ja gale’. The song that always left you peaceful.

"What's on your mind, chaand? No cheesy love songs today?" Bucky teased lightly, slightly puzzled by the song choice. Normally, you would sing more happy, sweet love songs when you were in a good mood, not to forget how out of character you acted the entire day. 

"Acha? You said you don't like my cheesy songs na, so I thought today I will comply with your wish and not sing my ‘overly romantic, Shona Babu songs.’”  You shot back, poking your tongue out as not to worry him. Bucky pouted slightly.

"Arre baba okay now don't pout, I was just joking. I will sing the cheesy songs again tomorrow, right now this song just feels right to me.” Hearing that, Bucky mumbled a quiet yes and snuggled deeper into you, holding you tightly and moving his head ever so slightly to listen to your voice.  

Lag Ja Gale Ki Phir Ye Hasin Raat Ho Na Ho

Shaayad Phir Is Janam Men Mulaaqaat Ho Na Ho

Lag Jaa Gale Ae Ae… (Embrace me, dear, who knows whether or not this beautiful night will ever come again. Maybe in this life we may or may not meet again)

You remember the first time you met Bucky, in Shuri's lab. You were a   good friend of Shuri. You were a researcher staying in Wakanda with T'challa's permission and eventually befriended the Princess. The two of you loved to talk about anything and nothing. One day Shuri told you about the Winter soldier staying here in Wakanda. You had heard many things about him, but never had you seen him in the flesh. Till you saw him come into the lab, bruised and eyes swiming full of emotions, but the distraught was the most clear in those blue piercing eyes.

It was at that moment that you had decided you would help him, and try to soothe the aches and scars that had been covering his fragile heart. He was put in the cryo soon after your first encounter, but you couldn't help but think about him often.

Ham Ko Mili Hain Aaj Ye, Ghadiyaan Nasib Se

Ji Bhar Ke Dekh Lijiye, Ham Ko Qarib Se

Phir Aap Ke Nasib Men, Ye Baat Ho Na Ho (I have been given today, this time by destiny. To your hearts content see me closely, who knows, if your destiny, may present this situation again.)

Six months later, Bucky came out of the cryo and on his request, was given a small hut away from the palace in the fields. You often saw him, with his tiny herd of goats. You remember how one tiny goat - which Bucky had endearingly called Steve -  was the one who caused you to talk to Bucky. Maybe that's why he was still your favourite goat, afterall he was responsible for giving you the love of your life.

Shaayad Phir Is Janam Men Mulaaqaat Ho Na Ho

Lag Ja Gale Ki Phir Ye Hasin Raat Ho Na Ho (Maybe, in this life, we may or may not meet again. Embrace me dear for this beautiful night may not come again)

Your phone rang suddenly. Bucky moved his head from your lap as you moved to get the phone, it was your brother who was calling you. It puzzled you, it was nearly midnight in India. "Y/N….jaldi aaja yaha… ma aur papa ki car crash ho gayi...I am so sorry, hum unhe bacha nahi paye." You went numb...The words didn’t make sense, you couldn’t make sense of them... Ma papa? No, no this can't be happening. You...you just talked to your mom a few hours ago! Bucky’s arms wrapped around you, holding you so close. He whispered some words into your ear trying to soothe you. But you couldn’t hear them, your mind just kept repeating your brother’s words inside your head like a mantra. That’s when the tears fell, soaking Bucky’s shirt. You didn’t remember you screamed. 

Paas Aaiye Ki Ham Nahin Aaenge Baar-Baar

Baahen Gale Men Daal Ke Ham Ro Le Zaar-Zaar

Aankhon Se Phir Ye Pyaar Ki Barsaat Ho Na Ho (Come closer to me, as I will not be able to come to you every time. Put your arms around me and let us cry our hearts out. Who knows, if our eyes will ever see these tears of love again.)

You couldn’t imagine what you would be without Bucky, your Bucky. He was your rock, You couldn't live a day without him. From the day you confessed your love for each other till today, not a day has gone where he wasn't showering you with love. Even through all his trauma and pain, he did his absolute best to be there for you, his sweet, sweet Y/N.

Shaayad Phir Is Janam Men Mulaaqaat Ho Na Ho

Lag Ja Gale Ki Phir Ye Hassin Raat Ho Na Ho

Shaayad Phir Is Janam Men Mulaaqaat Ho Na Ho

Lag Ja Gale Ki Phir Ye Hassin Raat Ho Na Ho (Maybe, in this life, we may or may not meet again. Embrace me dear for this beautiful night may not come again)

Remembering the past left you in an emotional mess, you didn't even realise when the waterworks started.

"Chaand? Hey, no shhh why are you crying? Is everything okay? Talk to me."

"Bucky?"

"Haan chaand?"

"Promise me that you will never leave me." You uttered in a broken whisper

"I promise."

He broke that promise. Bucky Barnes broke his promise and left his chaand. It happened so fast, the Avengers fighting Thanos, and suddenly everyone turning into dust.

You felt helpless and scared, numb and cold. what was happening? Bucky had told you to not come out of the palace unless told. He didn't want you to be in harm's way. No, his Y/N was too precious, he can't risk it. You reluctantly agreed, but you weren't of much use on the battlefield anyway. You just hoped your love would return to you very soon.

Steve broke the news, and your whole world collapsed in front of your eyes.

"Steve, no..no it can't be... please tell me you are lying. This isn't the time to joke around! Where is he!?" you couldn't help but scream at him. All your dreams, hopes and future with Bucky shattered. He was gone, in just a snap.  It couldn’t be real, this was a sick joke. that had to be it. A sick joke…

But deep inside, you knew it was real. All of it was real. The world around you seemed to crumble, all of it came down, it was as if someone let a glass cup fall and it shattered in a million pieces. Unable to be put back together again…

Now you had no one, no mom and dad, no Bucky...He was your rock wasn't he? He wasn't supposed to go...

After a few days, Steve offered to take you to America with him. The least he could do for his pal was to make sure the girl who had his heart was taken care of. But you couldn't go, it was too painful. Brooklyn will always remind you of Bucky, and you promised him when the time came to go back to his home, you will go together. No, unlike him Y/N L/N knew how to keep her promise.

You went back to India, to start a new life. A miserable one. If only you would have known that the last song you’ve sung to him would come true. 

You never sang your mother's favourite song again

Tagging - @spiderrpcrker @a-dragon-under-the-stars @lil-stark @jacquessouvenier @soradragon (I hope you won't mind me tagging you!) And I also hope you liked it :))

Translations (please let me know if I forgot to translate something) -

Chaand - Moon (an affectionate term in this context)

Acha - Really (in this context, it can mean many things otherwise)

"Y/N….jaldi aaja yaha… ma aur papa ki car crash ho gayi...I am so sorry, hum unhe bacha nahi paye." - "Y/N please come fast here, mom and dad were in an car crash, I am so sorry but we couldn't save them" (ma = mom, papa = dad)

Haan - yes

[kashimos-hajime]

my heart went with you | b.b.

summary: a tale as old as time: the charming boy and the golden girl he could never get, and how they spent their last days together.

WARNINGS: fluff, love, angst, mentions: war and death, nudity, swearing pairing: 40s!bucky x fem!reader word count: 7.3k

a/n: written as a lil snapshot about some unspoken love and rivalry. for @ussgallifreyfics​​​​, my prompt was you’ll never know by vera lynn. i really love writing some soft tenderness so enjoy!!

“Buck.”

The man standing before the tombstone looks up, over his shoulder, to Steve.

“We need to get back before it gets dark.”

And then he smiles, hands shoved in his pockets and starts heading towards his friend. Slinging an arm around Steve’s skinny shoulders, he does nothing more than knuckle the blond’s head. Steve winches, punching him in the gut and Bucky laughs, stumbling away as they pass the iron-wrought gates of the cemetery. 

“Jus’ wanted to say my goodbyes,” Bucky says, adjusting his jacket as they head up the street back towards Steve’s place. His best friend sweeps his hair out of his face, cheeks already burning in the dusk and Bucky’s smile softens for him. “Y’know your ma was the best thing.”

“I know.” At that, Steve seems to stand a little straighter and Bucky’s grin grows. 

“C’mon. Let’s get something to eat before I’m stuck with chewin’ on boiled leather boots.” 

“Maybe Becca’ll make you a few sandwiches to take overseas,” Steve mutters. Bucky shakes his head, lifting his chin to the wind. It smells rich of summer, clean and light in the dying sun, and Bucky feels a bit empty as he turns his gaze to his best friend.

“Yeah, maybe.” 

The rest of the walk to the little diner by a construction site, and Bucky walks in to see a few tables full, and a few of the stools occupied.  

“Bucky!” 

His name catches his attention and he spots a redhead waving with a smile. Steve hides his grin as they head towards her, and Bucky can’t help but notice when Dot’s smile grows at the sight of Steve. 

“Hi, Steve.”

“Hi, Dolores,” the blond man mumbles, sliding into a stool while Bucky sits down between them. “You here alone?”

“Oh, no. My friend’s just gotten some news so Joe let her out back. How are you, Bucky?” Dolores chews on her bottom lip, stirring her milkshake absently as her round eyes gaze at him. “I heard… you’re joining the boys in England.”

“Shipping off in a few days, actually,” he says with a slight smile just as a door swings open. 

“James.” 

Bucky’s eyes close.  

Oh, how much he utterly despises that voice. The sound of his old top rival at school, the girl with the infuriatingly cool smile, the clever glint in her eyes. Prettiest, smartest, nearly the most athletic. 

Almost perfect. 

It’s like a cold wind washes into the diner as he plants his hands on the counter and twists around with an arched eyebrow. 

You stand before him in a green dress, eyes effortlessly cool, a hint of a smirk playing at your lips. You look gorgeous. 

Not that Bucky would ever admit that to your face. 

“Y/N. Fancy seeing you here.”

He doesn’t say you’re perfect because if there’s one thing he hates about you, it’s… you. 

“Hello, James.” You flash him a wry smile before turning to Steve. “Hi, Steve.”

“Hey, Y/N.”

Your smile softens, and Bucky feels a flare of irritation lick at his insides at the way your expression seems genuine, sitting on the opposite side of Dot with an envelope. Your best friend places a gentle hand on yours, and the corner of Bucky’s lips pinch when he notes the slight tremble of your hand reaching for your own milkshake.

“What’s that?” Steve asks, eyes narrowing at the envelope and you smile guiltily, placing a hand over a stamp.

“My forms,” you say quietly. “I’m being shipped off in a few days.” 

“Oh.” Steve’s eyes immediately dart to Bucky’s face but the blue-eyed soldier is too busy scrutinizing your face. You don’t say anything, simply sip on the straw between red-painted lips as Dot wedges the envelope out from underneath your elbow and pry it open.  

Dot purses her lips in a frown as she reads through the forms, her hand coming to your shoulder but you plaster a smile onto your face even though Bucky can see through the cracks of your mask. Your eyes flit to his as if you realize he’s staring and the smile melts away. 

Something cold slithers into his gut at the thought of you on the front lines beside him.

He notes that when you think no one’s looking, your mask seems to slip. You catch him staring more than once, but you don’t say anything besides point out that there’s ketchup at the corner of his mouth.

.

He notices you smile little.

He doesn’t mean to notice things about you, but as they sit on the edge of the pier, Bucky can’t help but notice that about you. Steve had offered to walk Dot back home (or she was walking him home, you had muttered under your breath) and that left the two of you to walk the wharf because really, neither of them wanted to go home yet.

Bucky didn’t want to miss a second of his city. He wants to stay out as long as he can, take it all in before it’s too late.

The water is calm, lapping at the wood, and it smells like sea-salt and adventure on the wind. It sneaks into his lungs, makes him light-headed with a kind of childish innocence he can’t recall feeling before. Your legs swing, barefoot against the breeze, and his sleeves are rolled up as he glances at the sinking sun.

It’s barely gone before a chillier gale sweeps through the pier and he sees you shiver out of the corner of his eye.

The silence that has fallen over the two of you for what feels like hours now doesn’t need to be broken. He doesn’t believe you’re keen on talking as he grabs his jacket and drapes it over your shoulders wordlessly. 

You don’t protest, your eyes on the distant horizon. 

Instead, you reach up to tug the lapels close around your neck and when the pads of your digits brush against his, he feels something inside him twist. Stomach in knots, he looks down at the murky depths. 

This is how it has been for years now. He’ll catch you alone, and they’d sit together for hours. On the bus, in the park.

He doesn’t like you, but he knows it’s partially his fault, and your silence is honey to his bitter tea. 

“I think we’re going to die,” you say at last, voice startlingly quiet in the night. Your chin is lifted as he looks at you, and there’s a soft, bitter smile on your lips as a breeze plays against your cheek, with the strands of your hair. You don’t look at him, and lean into the wind.

Bucky has half the mind to bar you from leaning any further in case you fall into the chilling water.

You look at him, lips barely parted, and swallow the same hard knot in his throat. 

“What makes you say that?” he asks.

“My daddy was in the first war,” you remind him, and Bucky chews on the inside of his cheek as your gaze drifts again. You’re thinking about him, thinking hard enough he can hear the gears grinding in your head. “He’s never been—was never the same when he came back. .” 

It’s not that Bucky’s never thought about death.

It’s that he refuses to. 

He won’t think about an empty tomb until he has to. 

“Yeah, I know,” is his gentle reply.

The water crushes gently beneath their feet and the darkness falls slowly, a gentle cascade into midnight ink as the world around them begins to die. Warm, orange sunlight is replaced with gauzy yellow streetlight and there’s the sound of people yelling their goodnights as they close up shop. 

He leans back on his hands, lets his legs swing freely as he listens to some seagull call in the distance.

“I think I’m scared to die,” you say. Your words are nearly lost in the wind, but Bucky hears you clear as a church prayer. He pushes forward and gently places a hand atop yours along the wooden planks. You don’t react to his touch, and he closes his eyes, leaning tentatively until his forehead pushes against your cheek. 

“Me too.” He whispers it like a secret into your skin, and you turn to look at him at last, eyes glazed and distant, but present enough to see him. He lifts his chin to soak in your face, the silver light playing with the shadows on your face. Your eyes are enough to reflect the moon as he looks into your gaze, and he feels like he’s drowning in your depths before he blinks, inhaling sharply.

The bitter bite of cold wind in his chest snaps him out of his trance and he clears his throat, drawing his hand away from yours.

“It’s getting too late,” he says, ignoring the smallest of frowns pulling at your cheeks as you pull his jacket tighter around your shoulders. “I should get you back home.” Getting up, he brushes off his bum and turns to you, extending a hand. You don’t move, and his brow wrinkles as he steps closer to the edge. “Doll…”

“I don’t want to go home.” 

Falling into a crouch beside you, Bucky rests gentle hands on your shoulders and you seem to shiver underneath his palms as you turn to him, eyes glassy.

“She’ll hate me. My mom will hate me for enlisting, James,” you whisper as you twist to face him fully. “But we need the money. We need the money, and—”

“Your sister is just old enough to begin working,” he finishes. You nod shakily and he sighs, hand flitting around your face. He’s unsure of how to touch you, if you’d even let him, and he settles on tracing the curve of your cheek as he sighs. Mind churning, he simply watches as you close your eyes, diamond tears dripping against his fingers, and he wipes them away with gentle thumbs. Your cheeks are being to freeze in his palms, and he puts on a smile, a small one but one nonetheless as your eyes open again.

“I don’t want to go home, James,” you whisper, crushed and he chews on his bottom lip.

“Come on.” Pulling back, he grabs your hands and he’s surprised by how quickly your fingers wrap around his as he gets you to your feet. You let him drag you away from the waters, his coat swaying on your shoulders “I know where we can go.”

.

“Why here?” you ask, your hands wrapped around the chains as Bucky kicks off the dirt. He fights off the chill trying to sneak into his guts as you fiddle with his coat buttons. He’s managed to persuade you to actually put it on. “It’s actually kind of… strange to be here.”

“You’ve never been in a playground after dark?” he teases, getting off his swing and walking around you. You lean back to keep your eyes on him and he can’t help the fluttering smile playing on his cheek. 

“No, because this is trespassing.”

“Live a little.”

“I know you and your friends would always sneak in. Heard it from all my friends,” you comment with a roll of your eyes. “They thought you were all so cool.”

“It was always Steve’s idea. They were always welcome to join us. So were you.”

“Well, I was at home or at tennis practice, and Daddy always used to pick me up before…” You clear your throat. “Anyway, no. I wouldn’t have.” You swing your legs back, gaining a bit of momentum and he smiles. He remembers when all he would do was spend afternoons here, watching Steve swing beside you, fingers outstretched and barely brushing.

How envious he had been at your shrieking laughter. The nasty pout that’d settle on his lips.

To be a boy again.

“Well, we have a whole night to waste away,” he says, grabbing onto one of the swing chains and pulling you to a jerking halt. Your seat twists, twirling in half-circles as you lower your feet to the ground and lean forward, arms linked by the elbows on the chain. “And I thought we could bend the laws a little.”

“The whole night,” you repeat, bemused, and your eyebrow twitches up when he grins. “I have to get home at some point.”

“Don’t worry. There aren’t any big bad wolves out here.”

“What are you gonna do? Fight ‘em off?” you sneer and he huffs.

“I’ll protect you. Obviously.”

“I’m sure my mother will thank you,” you retort. “What do you have in mind?”

“So the good girl does have a trouble-making side.”

“Well, it seems my last few days on this side of the ocean are with you,” you reply, standing up suddenly and Bucky backs up when your face comes barely an inch from his. Eyebrows rising in surprise, his eyes widen as you dust off the back of your dress and adjust his jacket on your shoulders. It looks good on you. “What does Brooklyn’s Bad Boy know?”

“A lot more than you.”

“Oh, really?”

“Do you remember this playground?” 

“Well, I did just say you and Steve would trespass.”

“I mean, do you remember what it means for us,” he emphasizes and you brush past him, fingers wrapping around the pole as you walk around, soaking in the sight of the barren place. No laughing children, no berating teachers. Nothing but Bucky’s heart and your tiny sigh.

 “I saw you walk your sister home from here once,” you offer with half a shrug. “You saw me and crossed the road just so we wouldn’t cross paths. And there,” you say, pointing at the see-saw, “is where we sat together once in the rain. I think you were waiting out here in the cold. I felt pity so I sat beside you until Rebecca had finished school.” You grin, your features softening as you drag your gaze from the see-saw to Bucky himself, and he’s confused at the heat that floods his chest.

There is no indignant spark, no triumphant gleam in your gaze. Just you.

“That’s when I knew you were stubborn as they come. The ‘thank you’ you gave me sounded like someone pulled it outta you, but… you said thank you.” Then, your lips curl and you blink innocently at him. 

“I don’t recall that.”

“Yes, of course you don’t. You don’t remember a thing that paints you in a bad light.” Your eyes twinkle with mischief, eyebrows rising as you turn away and he walks after you, words nipping at his lips.

“Alright, and you. What about you?” Bucky taps his chin, pretending to ponder but one moment sticks out to him anyway. “As your chemistry partner, I remember saving you once or twice from nearly burning your skin off.”

“And as your biology partner, I remember dissecting the frog while you excused yourself to the bathroom.”

“Then, it’s good we’re not scientists.”

“Good.”

“Good!”

Silence.

This is why they bode better in silence.

Bucky doesn’t understand how they can argue, disagree, spat over the most mundane things, but they do.

You turn away, arms wrapped around your middle as you walk to the hopscotch square and walk the lines drawn into the pavement.

“Well.” There’s an odd pause when Bucky clamps his mouth shut because he doesn’t know what he is going to say next, and you turn around to stare at him oddly, waiting for what comes next. “Well.”

“Well,” you repeat expectantly, and his mouth opens and closes a few times.

“Well, maybe we oughta stop arguing if we’re spending the night together.”

“Do you have to word it like that?” Bucky shoots you a look, and your shoulders slump as you sigh. “I’m sorry. I agree. I’m done quarreling. And to be honest, it’s draining, though I never figured out why you hated me.”

“To be honest, doll,” he sighs, “I don’t know either. It’s just been that way for so long, hasn’t it?”

“I suppose so. Although I know what contributed to my end of this animosity was your proclivity to hover around me.”

“Well, I never could stay away. Seems everywhere you went, I was there somehow, too,” he mumbles and your face softens as you let your arms drop. Approaching him slowly, your eyes do not stray from his face as you flatten your palm against his shirt. You’re warm over his heart, and he wonders if you can feel his heart beat in his chest as you take care to make sure he looks into your eyes. 

“Maybe it was because of Steve,” you say curiously, your fingers playing with the button along the seam. “I know you’re protective over him and us being friends… I never set out to despise the school’s golden boy.”

He finds nothing sour in your gaze, nothing harsh, nothing trembling or bleeding. Maybe time heals all wounds. Maybe it just scars ‘em over. 

“And I remember the boys hating how much I hated you.” Placing his own hand atop of yours, he studies your expression, the way your eyebrows seem to twitch. He hasn’t been this close to you ever. Not on purpose.

Even in the silences before, they knew to keep their distance.

“I guess you were just so perfect and smart and Steve seemed to liked you more than he liked me sometimes.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Everyone liked you.”

“Everyone liked you, too,” you argue. “When you were elected prom king was the worst moment of my night.”

“Only because you were elected prom queen and hated being near me.” He grins when you laugh, your gaze falling to the small distance between them before your eyes find his again, bright with mirth, and his own smile flickers. “I dunno if I got jealous, but I knew I could count on you to challenge me, to distract me from whatever else is going on. You make me righteously angry, but you were also… my companion in a way.” His heart is hammering in his chest as you search his gaze and he wonders when he stopped finding the way you glare irritating and more… beautiful. “I dunno when you became more than that.”

“More?” The word falls gently from your lips and your hand slips from his as you back away. Gates rise before your heart, and he swallows as your gaze searches his. “As if.”

“I never once backed down from a fight for your honour,” he points out and you wrinkle your nose, the uneasiness in your gaze melting away as you turn to the hopscotch again.

“Oh, I know. You punched Barry Turner when you heard he kept touching me.”

“You heard about that?”

“News traveled fast at school.”

“Just like how I heard you slapped Macy Middleton in the gym.”

“She kept spreading rumours about you.” You shake your head. “Rumours Steve told me you hated.” Bucky scoffs and your voice rises in defense. “I tried to tell her to stop, and then she called me a gold digging bitch who only acted like I wasn’t sucking your cock every night.” Eyes widening, Bucky shakes out the feeling crawling down his spine at the mental image flashing in his head as you chuckle.

“Vulgar.” “You’d be surprised by how vulgar dames can be when we’re angry,” you reply easily, shoving your hands in the pockets of his jacket as you whirl around in the empty playground. You are so free like this, bathed in nothing but the faint streetlight and Bucky can’t help but follow, entranced. “Where’re we off to next, anyhow? The night is still young.”

 “Tomorrow we could see the fireworks on Coney Island, but for now, maybe some we could invade a cemetery to hunt ghosts, or go nude swimming at the beach…” he trails off intentionally, and laughs when he spots your expression. It’s almost stricken, definitely shocked. You turn your face away and his expression softens when you begin to walk away. Half-jogging to catch up to you, he falls into step beside you. “Unless you don’t wanna go swimming. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable—”

You stop suddenly and he halts as well, jarringly and cheeks burning but he’s not sure if it’s from shame or from the cold.

And then you turn to him, and your eyes are dancing from glee, and his eyebrows knit together as you burst out laughing.

It’s so loud he’s sure it’ll wake those sleeping in the buildings nearby as you cover your face with your hands. You try to catch your breath, and Bucky runs a hand through his hair, confused.

“James Barnes, flustered. I thought I’d never see the day,” you finally wheeze, clapping him on the shoulder before continuing on the walkway. Bucky’s mouth drops open as he stares after you. “Let’s go. If we’re going swimming, we should grab some towels and head down to the beach.” Flicking your wrist, you gesture for him to follow.

And he does.

He realizes he’d go anywhere you’d ask him to.

.

Bucky sneaking into his house to grab some linen and even a bottle from his mother’s prized collection was not on his list for the night.

But it has made him a subject to your constant teasing, which he can’t complain about.

He hasn’t truly recognized what he’s doing until they’re on the beach already, shoes kicked off and toes sinking into the still-warm sand. 

Untucking his shirt, he begins to unbutton it as you walk to a spot along the shore, putting down the linen and the bottle of whiskey. Carefully undoing the buttons of his jacket, you glance back at him as he approaches, and the moonlight carves into your face elegantly.

There’s an intensity, a heat that fills the silence as he pulls open his shirt and begins to unbuckle his belt. You slowly shed his jacket and fold it over your arm, setting it beside the towels and there’s a fire that burns as your eyes trail up his chest, up to his eyes only to find him already staring.

His heart is melting in his chest, nothing more than an inferno that singes his lungs as you begin to unbutton the front of your dress.

Movements are slow as honey, sure, but purposeful. The way he slides the suspenders off his showers, the gentle flick of your wrist as you undo the button, and Bucky watches as your fingers slip through fabric. His throat is drier than the hottest day in Brooklyn, and his tongue flickers out to wet his lips as you tear your gaze away to focus on undressing.

Words bundle up in his throat, and he glances out to the ocean, ever moving and gleaming silver. The water ripples like silk, the foamy crush seeping into the pale sand.

“James.” Your voice is softer than thunder as he looks to you, and he swallows a thick knot in his throat when he sees the front of your dress wide open. His gaze stays on your face as he pulls his belt out from the loops.

“If you’re uncomfortable…”

“No. It’s okay.” I trust you. “And you?”

“I’m good.”

You let the dress fall in a crumpled heap around your legs. Gooseflesh begins to rise along his arms as he does the same with his shirt, and it’s almost intimate the way they undress underneath lunar glow.

He pulls off his pants, you unwind your girdle and unclasp your bra.

He steps out of his underwear and so do you, and it is breathless the way heat sucks into his lungs. His chest is cloudy, stuffed, and he cannot help but feel lightheaded as he struggles to take a breath. His hands curl into fists as he resists the urge to brush hair away from the slope of your shoulder.

He silently asks a question.

And then, you, with the tiniest dip of your chin, consent.

His eyes roam, as do yours, and it is almost like he is in another plane of existence as he trails past your breasts, down to your legs and up again. His stomach flips and his lips part as he watches your chest rise and fall with your breathing, admires the pouch of your stomach that’s so often hidden away.

Despite what you put on, you’re just as soft as anyone. Just as human.

When eyes meet again, it is like something clicks.

He sticks out your hand, silently asking you to take it.

Your palm slots against his like it is meant to be.

.

It is an awakening. A rebirth, almost.

A clean slate.

They wade in the ocean until their fingers prune and they are aching for something more than just salt water and cold waves.

The hours after the swim is just as quiet, just as reverent in its motion, as they lie on a towel. Another is draped over your body. Bucky, the same, salt water clinging to his hair and skin.

Somehow, they are sweating despite the frigid waters.

“I know I said I am afraid to die,” you say as they stare up at the stars. His whole body is humming with burning blood. “But more than that, I’m afraid of the fear. If that makes sense.”

Bucky turns his head to look at you, commit the profile of your face to his memory as you look at him as well. Salt water glimmers along your cheek as the corner of your mouth simply tugs up in a sad smile.

“I understand,” he whispers. “I feel like it’ll paralyze me. It does, just imagining it.”

“Exactly.” You turn your gaze to the stars again. The whiskey is half empty between the two of you, and it warms the blood in his veins as Bucky feels the back of your hand brush his. His whole body is strung out on electric wire, and his hand alights, every finger tingling. “Do you think we’ll be staring at the same stars?” you ask.

“I sure hope so,” he says. “Maybe we’ll be somewhere close.”

You exhale, long and heavy through your nose. “I hope so, too.” You adjust the towel on your chest as you drag your feet against the linen underneath your back. “Did you ever… I mean…”

“Hm?”

“I’ve never been naked with a man before,” you say, rolling onto your side, one hand clutching the towel to your chest and he glances at you, his blue gaze downy soft as he traces the slope of your nose with his eyes. “Much less go swimming nude with one.”

“Who would have thought?” he murmurs and your smile grows, eyes fluttering down, away from his face and then back again. “I’m glad you trust me, now.”

“Oh, I think I’ve always trusted you,” you whisper, breath tickling his lips. He can taste the liquor on your tongue as he gently inclines his head towards you. Noses nearly brush and he begins to smile. “Thank you… for this. For everything.”

He doesn’t know what to say. He’s done nothing except bring you nude swimming at the beach, but it feels wrong to say so, so he simply replies, “You’re welcome.” Then, more genuine: “Thank you for indulging me. It’s not every night I’m here with my supposed archenemy,” he teases and you chuckle deep in your chest. At least you’re not too somber to laugh.

“It was nice,” you assure him quietly. “It’s different when I’m with you.” Your hand goes from your chest to his shoulder, tracing invisible shapes and marking them into his skin. He nearly shivers at your touch, but maybe it’s the cold. “You’re not afraid of the quiet.”

 It’s like I can be myself.

Bucky wonders if the fire in his chest is from the alcohol or something else as your fingers slowly interlace with his.

.

The days pass by in glances, fleeting touches. In bright sparks, sunny days, movie theatres. 

You smile more with every waking moment Bucky spends with you.

If Steve notices anything, he doesn’t show it. Instead, he excuses himself to go to the bathroom last minute before the movie starts, prompting you to sit beside Bucky in the dark for two hours.

It is that day he realizes you don’t like horror pictures, and the day after he learns you adore science films. More parts of you unveil themselves, just like how he discovers you enjoy hotdogs on Coney Island the night they watch fireworks together and how you can weave flower crowns with practiced fingers when they spend an afternoon with Ma and Becca.

It is almost like he’s known you his whole life.

.

He asks if you want to go to the Stark Expo. He doesn’t imply that it is a date, and by the innocent quirk of your eyebrows, you don’t think of it as such.

You say yes, and spend the whole night by his side.

.

“James.”

Your voice is lit with surprise, brilliant in its loudness and he turns to where you’re wading through the crowd. You’re darling in your nurse’s outfit and he almost blushes when your dancing eyes find his.

Matched with your morning smile, he can’t help but smile himself.

There’s a somberness to you, though, that he wonders if only he can see as Rebecca pushes past him and throws her arms around you.

“Y/N! Thank god you’re here on time,” his sister says and you smile, patting the girl’s back. “How was the Stark Expo? Was there really a flying car?”

“It was a nice night out. But, what are you doing here, Rebecca?” you ask, bemused, and his sister’s shoulders rise and fall innocently as she turns back to Bucky. Your eyes find his and he half-smiles as if to apologize, but you shake your head minutely. “I thought you said only your mother was seeing you off.”

“Well, Bucky said you wouldn’t have anyone throwing you a farewell party and I thought I ought to join,” Rebecca says, her lips curling into a smirk. “Bucky talks a lot about you.”

“Oh, do you?” you mutter warily, eyeing Bucky who is shooting daggers at his sister. “Am I supposed to take that as a compliment or does he only complain?” The corner of your mouth quirks up as you look at Bucky and he rolls his eyes. 

“Well, before it used to be complaining. It’s much nicer now.”

“I assume it’s about our science classes together.” You’ll never let that go and Bucky snorts, trying to cover up his amusement. “Although, seeing as he’s going off a soldier, he seems to manage just fine without me, now.”

“No, I don’t.” The words fly out of his mouth before he can stop it, and a silence falls between them. You stare at him, trying to decipher what lays in his face, and he gazes, embarrassed, into the depths of your irises. Your lips part as if you want to say something, but the words seemed to have dissipated in the wake of his response, and his hands curl into fists in an attempt to stop himself from touching you somehow.

Make everything worse, anyhow.

“Can we have a moment alone?” you ask quickly, clearing your throat with raised eyebrows. Rebecca, tucking a curl behind her ear, glances from Bucky to you, before smirking and nodding emphatically.

Bucky internally sighs.

Can his sister make herself anymore obvious?

Turning to their mother who had watched the whole debacle just occur with amusement, Rebecca loops her arm around hers. “C’mon, Ma. We should… head over there. Look at the ships,” she suggests and Winnifred huffs a smile. Catching your eyes, his mother rises an incredulous eyebrow and your mouth drops open when his mother wraps you in a warm embrace,

“Stay safe on that side, dear. I would love to get to know you once you come home from the war,” she says. You seem to soften in his mother’s arms before she pulls back and then Rebecca throws herself at you. You catch her, of course, and your eyes flutter shut.

“I’m going to miss you so much!” Rebecca murmurs into your neck and you gently run a hand down her back, sweet smile upon your lips. “You better come back and marry Bucky,” she adds fiercely and Bucky rolls his eyes, trying to conceal the heat that flushes over his entire body as you open your eyes and look at him. Your face is set in stone, serious as a librarian during exams, and you study him, the blush pooling in his cheeks despite the cold wind.

“We’ll be back, and you will be our chief wedding planner,” you say, drawing back and the air in Bucky’s lungs disappears. “I promise.”

You’re magic, that way. You manage to make him feel these things he doesn’t understand are possible.

He can’t breathe, his heart beating in his head and throat and everywhere. You’ve captured him in your gaze and even when you look away, his body struggles to work. Unblinking, he watches your mouth move but he can’t hear a thing. Everything is white noise and he cannot see anything in this crowd except for you.

Throat dry, he feels the last bit of air left in his chest escape in the softest of sighs before a hand settles on his shoulder and he flinches to see his mother smirking at him.

“Ma,” he breathes, shoulders dropping. His heart is racing in his chest, bouncing on the walls of his ribs. “You scared me.”

“You let your guard down around her,” she says with a shrug as if to say she’s not to blame. 

“What are you talking about, Ma?” He struggles to keep his tone non-confrontational but he doesn't understand why he’s so defensive. Is he worse around you? Better? And has he just found you just to die battlefields apart?

“Oh, I’ve never seen a girl make you quite so flustered. Normally, it’s the other way around.”

“She just gets under my skin. I don’t like her that way,” he lies, shaking the feeling out of his jacket but it still lingers at the nape of his neck, a wriggling, tickling sensation.

“In my experience, it’s the ones who challenge you that are the ones you can’t let escape.” His mother cocks her head, eyes narrowed in an emotion Bucky can’t decipher before she turns to pry Rebecca off you. “Let’s go, Becca. We’ll see Bucky before he boards.”

“I’ll come find you,” he promises, and you wave to his family as they sink into the crowd, your eyes warm and empty with realization.

This is it.

Bucky doesn’t know what to say, so he shuffles closer to you, catching your attention again.

“Marry me?” he repeats fondly, and you smirk, the hollowness abating you for just a moment. Bucky wonders if it’s the same for you. If he makes you forget the way you do for him. “And here I thought you hated me.”

“Well, we have to give her sister what she wants, don’t we?” He chuckles and your smile is a flimsy thing before your face turns serious again. “And I don’t hate you,” you whisper, your body stiff in the cold dawn, and he adjusts the nurse’s cap on your head before thumbing over your cheek. You melt into him, shoulders falling and eyebrows knitting together, and you don’t smile, but he can read it all in your eyes.

You surrender to his touch, let him tilt you forward so he can gently kiss your brow. The place is bustling and the crowd pushes them together as he wraps his arms around you, pouring all he cannot say into where his lips meet your skin. You do not speak, and simply snake your arms around his waist, pull him close.

There they stand, and Bucky thinks he can get used to this feeling.

This warmth, the strength of your body against his, the way you make his heart swell larger than life.

“Is it too late to tell the boys I get seasick?” he asks, and you laugh.

He loves the sound of your laugh.

“Might be, Sarge.”

He thinks he loves everything about you, really.

“I do have something for you, actually,” you say as his forehead presses against yours and you mumble it under your breath. Around the ruckus of the bustling port, your voice is all he focuses in on. “It’s just me being… I don’t know, superstitious, I suppose.”

“What is it?” He feels your hands shift between them as you pull something out of your pocket, and it is a simple ring, gleaming gold. “We’re not actually getting married, are we?” he asks breathlessly, eyes flickering up to yours and you lift your head as you take his hand and slide it onto his right middle finger.

It’s a bit too loose, but he watches it settle upon his hand anyway.

“It was my father’s,” you explain quietly and he knocks his head against yours. Your eyes flutter shut at the warmth of his brow against yours and he aches to kiss you, but he doesn’t. “It was supposed to give him good luck, and he always said it kept him alive during the war, and it worked, so…” Your hands cup his neck, and your thumbs brush against his jaw. His hand comes around your waist, the other settling in the small of your back. The ring is cool, a new tiny weight on his hand and something inside him collapses. “Stay safe on the other side, soldier.”

“Is that an order?”

“Doctor’s orders,” you affirm, your lips twisting into a grin. “You ought to follow them.”

“I will do my best,” he whispers and you chuckle. “And I’ll see you on the other side of the war.”

“It’ll be awful boring without you otherwise.”

“As it’ll be boring for me without you.”

Noses brush as you lean towards him, your fingers warm and cold and strong, desperately holding onto him. For a moment, he thinks you might kiss him, and your breath ghosts against his lips before you halt, just a whisper away from him. Everything zeroes in on you. He can hear nothing but your soft breaths, his heart in his ears. His stomach tugs him in every direction and he swallows, eyes cast on your lips, your eyes, every part of your face.

Then you turn your face away, your aching sigh against his cheek. His fingers dig into your flesh through your dress, and your hands slide down his shoulders.

His heart cracks.

Tilting your head, you swallow and he can hear his heart in his ears, as his hands draw to your waist. Then, you turn your head and your lips almost brush his. 

He can taste you, just barely, the smell of perfume clinging to your skin. How easy it would be, to simply close the distance, push his mouth against yours and feel you kiss him back, except it wouldn’t be easy at all.

He knows why you don’t kiss him. 

It’s the same reason why he doesn’t kiss you.

Kissing makes it real, makes it true, makes it too hard to leave and you need to go. If you kiss him, you will never leave his arms and if he kisses you, he will evade any force that will force him overseas just so he can stay with you.

No matter how much his heart yearns to reach yours, no matter how much he wants to taste you, feel you beneath his hands…

He doesn’t.

He can’t.

To kiss you would be to make it real. To manifest something between them left unsaid is a frightening thing when they stand in death’s palm.

It would be unfair. It would be cruel to love only to die, but he does. 

In the past few days, he has felt everything the stories always said about love: fulfillment, pure happiness, indescribable joy and a lightness to his chest he has never felt before.

Heartwrenching agony. Poisonous grief. A pain enough to shatter bones.

He loves you, and he is devastated.

“Goodbye, Sergeant Barnes.” You pull back, your hands sliding down his arms and he catches your fingers in his, desperate not to let you slip away. Only to prolong the inevitable. Your eyes are struggling not to shed their tears, your lips twisted in a bittersweet smile as you struggle to come up with a way… a way to say everything you cannot say aloud. He doesn’t want to see you cry, but he does not say so. He is barely breathing. “Goodbye… Bucky.”

It isn’t enough.

It never will be.

“Goodbye, doll,” he whispers. Your eyes flicker from his face to his hands, and he squeezes your palms gently before you tear yourself away, force yourself not to look back, slip into the crowd and disappear forever.

He does not chase after you even though he does not want your story to end.

.

“Buck.”

The man standing before the tombstone looks up, over his shoulder, to Steve.

“We need to get back before it gets dark.”

And then he smiles, solemn and sad before turning back towards the stone. Stepping closer, he crouches before the engraved stone and runs a hand carefully over its curve. 

“I’ll see you next weekend, doll,” he whispers, leaning forward and pressing numb lips to cold stone. The emptiness inside him seems to sew itself shut, just an inch at both ends, before he draws back. His metal hand flutters over the engraving, and his lips part in a silent sigh before digging through his jacket and setting the simple, golden ring in the dirt. It glimmers in the pale sunlight, and he smiles but it disappears before it can truly settle. “The ring worked. God, I only wish it was with you.”

He stands and turns back to Steve.

“I just wanted to say my goodbyes,” Bucky says, voice barely louder than the autumn wind. “Y’know, she was… She died so young. She was…”

He doesn’t want to say love of his life, because that means he missed it.

Missed his chance.

“It was quick,” is all Steve says. “A bombing. If she felt any pain, it was only for a second.”

“I think it would’ve been the fear that killed her,” Bucky replies softly, walking towards his old friend. “It’s getting late. We should start heading back.”

“We could get something to eat—” Steve tries, but Bucky merely shakes his head. 

“I’m not hungry tonight.”

When he gets back to the facility, he excuses himself to his room and puts on a record that was all the rage back in their day. He vaguely recalls it playing a few times when the Commandos were out late drinking in London.

Every time, he thought of you, somewhere out there, and the mandatory prom king and queen dance they had together.

What he wouldn’t give for another chance to dance with you again.

He collapses on the bed, lying down and letting the music lull him to sleep. Eyes slipping shut, he imagines a life where he had said something different, imagines a life where the dreams he dreams now are a reality.

He imagines a life where you knew he loved you.

Where it wasn’t too late.

“If there is some other way to prove that I love you I swear I don't know how You'll never know if you don't know now You'll never know if you don't know now…”