Archive of Our Own

And not only that, but you were learning how strong you actually were. Sure, the first few sessions were embarrassing as hell and your arms looked like noodles when you tried to punch Bucky. But over time, you learned the proper mechanics, how to hone in on each of your muscles to bring all of your focus onto one target. There was a newfound appreciation for your body that you never knew you could have.

“Your weight is your strength, Y/n,” Bucky said one time, nothing but pride and sincerity in his voice. “I know that you’ve been taught to conceal this part of you -- and I still would love to kick the asses of everyone who made you believe that -- but it gives you an advantage that others might not have, and it should be looked at with beauty and fear. If you can learn how to use it, it could be your greatest weapon.”

He was right. You had an advantage that smaller people did not. An extra padding of armor under your skin when taking blows to your stomach, an added heaviness when pinning down an attacker. More oomph when colliding into them.

Your body was more powerful than you could have ever imagined, and it was fucking awesome.

So, here you were, on the roof of your apartment, hues of oranges and purples painting the sky as the sun set over the New York City horizon, your face a red, sweaty mess, gripped in an unbreakable hold.

You groan. “Just don’t mock me endlessly when I totally fail at this.”

“You got this, Y/n. We’ve done this enough times that it should be muscle memory. Just don’t think, move-”

Before Bucky can finish his sentence, you tuck your fingers under his right arm and lean forward, putting all of your weight onto your front leg and somersaulting the two of you to the ground. He lets out a grunt, but his hold still remains strong on you.

“Bucky, this is usually the part where your grip loosens so I can break free.”

“Well, maybe I don’t want to let you go yet, doll.”

You giggle. “Oh really?” Looks like it was time for the secret weapon.

You move your hand from Bucky’s arm to his waist, fingers poking in the sweet spot you’re pretty sure only you knew about.

Bucky’s whole body jerks as soon as you make contact, letting out a yelp, arms moving from your neck and toward the hand that was now tickling him.

“Y/n, stop,” he barked out, the two of you laughing as you turned over so that your stomach was lying flush against his, faces inches apart from one another.

You stared into his breathtakingly stunning blue eyes before pressing your lips to his, savoring the groan that escapes his body. His arms snake around to your back, and now you’re in a hold that you never want to escape from.

You pull away suddenly, grinning at him. “Sure you want me to stop?”

He pouts. “Not a chance, love.” He leans his head up until his lips find yours once again, cutting off your giggle.

There were times Bucky caught himself wondering if this had all just been one, long, perfect dream. One that made up for the years of nightmares he experienced before meeting you.

But it was real, the feel of your skin and the taste of your lips sending sparks down his body, as if burning away all of the torment and suffering he endured for 70 years.

He wanted to spend the next 70 years like this. Beautiful girl in his arms, the most radiant smile on her face that must be mirrored by his own ridiculous grin.

The only thing was missing was a ring on your finger. One that had been sitting in his drawer ever since Louisiana.

Luckily, that problem was going to be rectified soon. After all, your one-year anniversary is next week. He just hoped you would say yes.

Obviously, you were going to.

Bucky’s phone buzzes and he sighs, pulling away from you and reaching for his pockets.

“It’s Sam,” Bucky says, reading the text. “He wants to know what time the car should pick us up tomorrow.”

You hold back a grimace. Tomorrow night was the annual gala to honor the 107th Regiment. The gala was mainly a way to raise money for the army, and Bucky had declined invitations every year. But this time, they were doing a special tribute for Steve and the Howling Commandos. Seeing that Bucky was the only remaining member (aside from Fury, but no one could find him), he felt like he should be there to honor his old friends.

Of course you were excited to finally see Bucky recognized for all he did during World War II. The sacrifices he endured. It was just that, this was the first public appearance the two of you would make as a couple. It was an honor to be chosen by Bucky to stand at his side, but you were still nervous about the looks you would get, the scoffs from strangers who saw a bigger girl in the arms of a literal model.

You knew it didn’t really matter, but you didn’t want to draw negative attention during a night that should be nothing but amazing and memorable for Bucky. And he was nervous himself. Crowds still made him a bit anxious, and the idea of being at an event where a spotlight would be on him for most of the evening. A man who had served his country, but who had also spent decades under the control of people who forced him to kill countless people.

No, you wouldn’t let Bucky have a bad night. He deserved to be treated like the kind, selfless, loving man you knew him to be. And you weren’t going to let your discomfort get in the way of that. Nor his.

You force a smile. “7 o’clock?”

-----

“Y/n, it’s 6:55,” Bucky calls out from the other side of your bedroom door. “Sam just texted me saying that they’re on their way. Are you ready?”

“One second!” you yell back, eyes glued to the mirror. You do one last spin, on the hunt for any wrinkles or stains for the millionth time. You sigh, standing straight.

“You can do this, Y/n,” you mouth to yourself, afraid to even whisper and risk your super soldier boyfriend hearing you even from the other room. “You look great. You’re beautiful. Bucky sees that, your friends see that, everyone else will see that.”

You walk out of your room and see Bucky standing in the living room, back facing you as he pets your cat, Willa. When he hears your door open, he turns and lets out a soft gasp.

Wow, he thinks to himself. He covers his mouth with his hand as he looks you up and down.

You giggle.

“You found it,” he says in amazement.

Indeed. The emerald green dress you had written about in the fanfic you begrudgingly allowed Bucky to read so many months ago. The one that your beloved ‘Y/n’ had worn for a wedding with a neckline that ‘made Bucky’s head spin.’

It took you a while to find this one, but when you did you immediately bought it without thinking. At that point, you couldn’t think of an event where you would be able to wear it, but you knew that something would arrive.

And tonight it had.

So here you were, in an emerald green sequin a-line dress with a deep v-neck that made your chest look amazing, sheer puff sleeves, ruching at the waist that accentuated your hips in a way you didn’t hate, and a thigh-high slit that Bucky’s eyes couldn’t stay away from. Your hair was curled and pulled back in a low bun, and your lips were painted a light dusty rose shade.

You give him a little twirl, letting the dress billow out, a new sense of confidence rushing through you caused by Bucky gaping at you in wonderment.

“You like it?”

He rushes up to you, hands grabbing you by the waist as he lifts you in the air to twirl you himself, both of you unable to hold back your laughter.

When he stops, he gently places you down and gives you a chaste kiss.

“I love it,” he whispers against your lips. “I love you. How did I get so damn lucky to have such a beautiful woman as my date?”

You smile. “Because you’re the most amazing man in the world who deserves whatever he wants.”

Bucky chuckles. “Oh, is that right? So if I ask you to skip tonight’s event with me so I can have you and this dress all to myself you’ll say yes?”

You lightly hit his chest, scoffing. “Anything but that. Besides, I need to show off my hot date to New York’s elite.”

Bucky did look amazing. Sam had dragged him to a tailor to get a custom-made tux and oh boy did you have to thank Sam as soon as you saw him. And his tailor.

Bucky looks down at himself and smirks. “I do look pretty good, don’t I?”

You grin. “Absolutely stunning.”

He laughs, leaning forward for another kiss. “Thanks, love.” His phone buzzes. “That’s Sam. They’re here.” He keeps his phone and steps back, pointing it towards you. You roll your eyes, a huge smile still on your face and he grins. “Now that’s a good photo. We got the classic eye-roll with your gorgeous smile. I love it.”

“Alright, loverboy,” you grab your clunch and wrap your arm around his. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

Bucky was allowed to invite as many guests as he wanted to, and he was genuinely shocked that when he invited his friends, he was actually able to fill a table. A year ago, he felt like he was all alone. Now, he had you, Sam, Peter, and your best friends, Raina and Abby.

It was a good crew, and he was more thankful than he probably let on to have you all there to support him.

“Fuck yes, Y/n. You look amazing!” Raina exclaims as you and Bucky climb into the SUV. Sam and Bucky had raised their eyebrows at you and the girls when you suggested you all take one car to the event. It seemed...unnecessary. But Raina promised there would be champagne and they immediately agreed. Abby has glasses in your hands as soon as you were sitting.

“Um, speak for yourself, babe,” you reply, gaping at Abby and Raina’s looks. Abby was in a short-sleeve rose gold glitter gown and Raina was wearing a black-lace sleeveless dress. They looked stunning.

Sam places a hand on Raina’s leg smiling. “She does look incredible, doesn’t she?” Raina blushes, giving Sam a quick kiss.

Yeah, that was a thing. Sam and Raina had started dating a few months ago and going strong. You loved that your best friend had found a partner who could actually out-sass her. It was hilarious.

“Is anyone going to compliment me,” Peter asked, gesturing to his tux.

Bucky and Sam roll their eyes and you laugh. “You look very handsome, Peter.”

He blushes, giving you a small smile. “Thanks, Y/n.”

“Alright everyone,” Abby raises her glass, “let’s raise a toast to the man of the hour.” Bucky gives you all an uncomfortable smile as you raise your champagne glasses. “To Bucky!”

“To Bucky!” you all cry out, knocking back the glasses. You kiss Bucky’s cheek immediately after and his smile turns genuine.

-------

The hall is already full when you all arrive, New York’s finest mingling throughout the room clad in outfits that could probably pay for an entire year’s worth of rent for your apartment. Staff slid their way throughout, holding trays of champagne, and appetizers that both looked delicious and somewhat questionable.

“Ugh, rich people,” Raina mutters to you, and you stifle a laugh.

“The diamond on that lady’s necklace is the freaking size of a baseball,” you whisper back, trying not to gape at the glamour of it all.

“And she’ll probably never wear it again after this event,” Bucky says, rolling his eyes. “These people and their money. It’s ridiculous.”

“I bet they ask for avocado on everything,” Abby chimes in. “Even if they’re getting something that shouldn’t have avocado in it.”

The gang bursts out laughing at that, resulting in a few heads to turn your way. You all compose yourself quickly, grabbing champagne from a waiter walking by.

“Sorry, Buck,” you whisper into his ear, “we’re probably going to be the most immature group here.”

Bucky gives you your favorite boyish grin. “Thank fucking God, love. These things are way too uptight for me. At least with you all here I’ll be able to actually enjoy myself.”

You smile, leaning your glass against his. “Cheers to that, then.”

“Cheers to you.”

You spend the next half hour chatting with various investors and veterans, thrilled to see the smiles on the faces of vets when they shake hands with Bucky, asking for photos with him, sharing stories of their time on the 107th. Asking Bucky to tell his own stories that had been passed down by the regiment about his triumphs with the Howling Commandos.

The walls were covered in tapestries of images of the regiment and the Commandos. You spotted a few of Bucky and Steve, smiling and laughing at the camera. You had seen these images in the exhibit at the Smithsonian, but seeing them here tonight made your heart swell with pride, seeing the man you love being recognized in such a special way.

“Did you see the woman Sergeant Barnes is with?” you hear a woman whisper behind you.

“Yeah, who is that, his niece or something?” another one replies.

“I think she’s his date.” The women scoff, and you shake your head, walking toward your friends to avoid hearing the rest of the conversation.

Peter is currently balancing three plates of hors d'oeuvres in his hands, picking off different items and popping them in his mouth.

You giggle. “You know Peter, they’re going to be feeding us a meal in just a few moments.”

He smiles, mouth full of food. “I know, this place is awesome. Did you try these spring rolls?” He grabs one from his plate and hands it to you. You can’t help but accept the offering when you see the eagerness in his eyes.

You take a bite. “Damn, that is really freaking good.” His smile brightens.

There’s a sudden dinging of glasses, and a man on a podium at the end of the hall requests that guests make their way to their seats so that dinner can be served. You turn to see Bucky already at your side, arm wrapping around your waist as he guides you to a round table in the center, pulling your seat back for you as you slide down, Abby sitting next to you.

The food was ridiculously good and ridiculously fancy. There were, like, five different courses and you were hesitant to eat them because they all looked so pretty.

“I still think the barbeque place in Louisiana is better,” Bucky says, taking a bite of his steak, and you nod, reminiscing on the stellar food you had eaten while visiting Sam’s home in January.

“As much as I agree, I don’t think I should be allowed within 20 feet of that food in this dress,” you glance down at the small napkin on your lap. “It would have a stain just from looking at the cole slaw.”

Bucky grins. “We’d just have to buy you another dress, then.”

You roll your eyes. “Only if you’re buyin, Buck.”

“Does that mean I have permission to buy you one for every day of the week?”

“Sure, but you also have to get me sweatpants that I can wear underneath.”

“I’ll keep you posted.” He winks and you giggle.

The man from before returns to the podium. “Ladies and gentlemen, we'd like to get started on the speeches we have lined up for this evening. First up we have….”

The speeches were lovely. There were vets who came up to share what the 107th meant to them, family members of those who had served and had since passed.

Sam was the first to go up when they started speeches to honor the Howling Commandos. He spoke about Steve Rogers, how his leadership transformed the U.S. Army and created a legacy that Sam was honored to continue, and what the symbol of Captain America and the shield meant for the country, and the world.

He spoke about Bucky, about how his presence then and now had built a solid foundation for Steve and the Commandos to stand on. That without him, they would have been lost. That his presence now carried just as much impact as it does then, and that he was honored to be called his friend.

You hear a small sniffle escape Bucky as he blinks back a tear, and you reach over to squeeze his hand.

When Sam returns to your table, Bucky stands up to give his friend a hug, and now it’s your turn to blink back tears.

“Fuckin’ asshole,” Bucky mutters to Sam and you all burst out laughing.

“Love you too, man,” Sam responds, patting Bucky on the back.

A middle aged man with red hair and a mustache walks up to the podium, and you hear Bucky’s breath hitch.

“Hello, everyone, and thank you all for coming. My name is Timothy Dugan, grandson to Timothy ‘Dum Dum’ Dugan, one of the members of the Howling Commandos from the 40s. It is truly an honor to stand here in front of all of you tonight at an evening where we get to celebrate my grandfather and the men who fought beside him during the war.

“My grandfather always spoke about the horrors of war. Seeing your fellow soldiers who had become family dying in front of your eyes, starving as resources and rations slowly diminished, being held captive by Hydra. He wasn’t afraid to speak up about the traumas. He wanted to normalize the stories so that we could understand why a lot of men don’t return from service the same.

“Along with that, though, he shared the good times. The pranks that soldiers would pull on each other to lighten the mood after a week straight of shellings. The nights that men would sit by the fire, singing songs and dreaming of life after the war, clinging to hope. Tears of joy when the injured pull through even when it seemed impossible.

“Dum Dum would never be able to hold back a smile when talking about the Howling Commandos. The pride he felt as he looked back on the achievements the team experienced over the years would radiate throughout whichever room he was in. Tonight, we honor those who are no longer with us: Dum Dum Dugan, Steve Rogers, Jim Morita, James Montgomery Falsworth, Gabe Jones, Jacques Dernier, Happy Sam Sawyer, Pinky Pinkerton, Junior Juniper, and I would be remiss not to mention Agent Peggy Carter.” Timothy looks down to look directly at Bucky and you can hear his breath hitch.

“Out of all of the members of the Commandos, my grandfather would love to talk about Sergeant James Buchanen Barnes the most. The light in his eyes that would appear whenever Bucky was mentioned, and the onslaught of stories that would follow were always the most memorable. He would talk about the, and please excuse my language as I give a direct quote, ‘crazy shit that sunofabitch would get himself into.’” The crowd laughs, but Bucky’s laughter sounds more like a sob. You look to him and see tears in his eyes, a look of astonishment on his face.

“There was one time that Bucky jumped out of the trees and onto a Hydra tank, shooting down men mid-air as he incapacitated the vehicle,” You gape at Bucky and he shrugs, giving you a sheepish smile. “Or another time when he put bugs in Steve’s boots and everyone laughed for days at the yelp that escaped the super soldier’s mouth when he put them on that morning. Or how he would always be the first to wake up and the last to go to sleep, making sure that the rest of his team was safe and well-fed. He was the first to volunteer to put his life on the line, and the first to volunteer to clean everyone’s rifles. Whatever he could do, he would do it.

“My grandfather would always say that he desperately wished he could have told Bucky how much he meant to him. How good of a man he was, how strong of a leader. He gave him hope and courage in times where all had seemed lost. Though Steve was the hero everyone knew about, Bucky was the silent humble one, just as deserving to be recognized. Dum Dum would always look back with a smile on his face, and a tear in his eye, thinking about his brother in arms that he wished he could see one last time,” Timothy chokes up a bit at the last line, but continues, eyes still locked on Bucky. “Though my grandfather isn’t here today to say all these things to you, it is an honor to be able to stand here and do so myself, Sergeant Barnes. You have always been known as a hero to me, and it is a privilege to get to stand in the same room as you.” Bucky’s hand squeezes yours, as if trying to convince himself that he’s not dreaming. Timothy raises his champagne glass. “So, let all raise a glass to Sergeant James Bucky Barnes, and the rest of the Commandos. For fighting for our country in ways we could never imagine.”

There is a hearty ‘cheers’ let out by the whole room, followed by a thunderous applause as everyone stands from their seats. You give Bucky a quick kiss on his cheek before standing yourself. Sam and Raina both let out a loud whistle.

Bucky is….speechless. And tears are openly falling down his face as he looks around the room in shock. Finally, he looks up at you, and smiles through his tears as he looks upon the beautiful face of the love of his life, smiling with such pride that he feels like he’s never known pain or sadness before. Right now, it feels like he’s only known love and joy.

“I love you,” you mouth to him, tears also streaming down your face as you continue clapping.

“I love you,” he mouths back.

Bucky feels like he’s walking on a cloud for the rest of the night. He’s not sure he’s ever smiled so much in public. It sure helps that you’re by his side the whole time, arm around him, smile plastered to your face in pride as you make your way through the hall, talking with guests.

When it’s time to leave, you excuse yourself to the restroom, cause you know you’re not going to be able to sit comfortably in the SUV with all the champagne you’ve consumed.

The bathroom is empty when you walk in, and you head into one of the stalls. A few moments later, you head out and toward the sink, washing your hands.

“You don’t deserve him.” You jump at the unexpected voice coming from behind you. Your eyes dart across the mirror to find its source, turning your head when you find nothing.

“Excuse me? Who’s there?” you ask, trying to fight back the shakiness in your voice.

“He’s mine.” It’s a woman's voice, silky yet filled with a rage that makes your stomach drop.

You take a hesitant step toward the stalls, eyes looking underneath each one to find any signs of life. There’s nothing.

Now, you’re angry. “I don’t know who think you are, but this is pretty fucked up for you to be trying to scare me like this-”

“You think you’re scared now, girl?” the voice bites back. “Just wait when I get my hands on you. Then, then you’ll know what it’s like to be scared.”

You look to the farthest stall, hands shaking as you storm over. “Leave me alone, leave him alone. He’s mine-”

You kick the stall door open, only to find it empty.

A laugh echoes throughout the room.

“Y/n?”

You scream, whipping around to the door to see Abby staring at you, concerned.

“Holy shit, are you okay?”

You look back into the stall, then at your friend, forcing a small to your lips.

“Totally fine. Ready to go?”

Bucky sees the concern on your face from 20 feet away and rushes to meet you.

“You okay, love?”

You nod. “I’m fine. Too much champagne, I think.” You smile sheepishly and he takes your hand before kissing your forehead.

“Let’s get you to bed, love.” And you nod, heading toward the exit.

Through the crowd of people making their way out of the building, a flash of a familiar face peeks through, and Bucky feels all the blood draining from his body. The face is gone before he can even register it properly.

He turns to you, pulling his hand away. “I’ll be right back.” He darts outside where the face disappeared, scanning each person to find them.

He looks to the left. To the right.

Nothing.

“Bucky?” You’re outside now, confusion on your face as you walk toward him.

“Sorry, love. Thought I saw someone.” Your brows knit together. “Come on,” he takes your hand once again, tilting his head to the side, “car’s this way.”

-------

“Hey there, pup.”

Cold. Everything is cold. It feels as if there are pins in his head. Everywhere.

“Hush, pup.” He didn’t even know he was crying. “All will be well.” Someone strokes his cheek. The voice is soothing, familiar, comforting. And yet it horrifies him.

Lips touch his cheek before he feels metal replace them. Metal clamps around his arms. There’s a rubber guard in his mouth.

“Don’t forget,” the voice whispers into his ear, “you are mine.”

Lightning pulses through his body, and he screams .

“Ты принадлежишь мне” (You are mine.)

------

“Bucky! Bucky!” you jump up, shaking him awake. His anguished cries terrify you. He’s never made those sounds before.

Finally, Bucky jolts awake, body covered in sweat, tears running down his face, breathing ragged.

He looks panicked. Confused. For a moment his eyes meet yours and there’s no recognition. Your hands move to his cheeks as you lean your forehead against his.

“Hey,” you breathe out, “it’s okay. You’re okay. It’s me. I’m here.”

Finally his eyes lock on yours and you see him return to you. The panic slowly leaves his face as he collapses into your arms. You run your fingers through his hair, kissing the crown of his head.

“Y/n,” he whispers, clinging to you. “Y/n.”

“Yeah, love. It’s me. Don’t worry. I got you.”

He hasn’t had a nightmare in almost a year. He’s forgotten what they’re like. How consuming they are, breaking the line between dream and reality for the first few moments. He clings to you as if you will anchor him to reality.

It helps.

“Do you want to talk about it?” you ask after a few moments once Bucky’s breathing has settled.

You feel his head shake against you. “Just….just a nightmare. A memory, I guess. I’m okay now. I’m sorry.” His voice is rough, raw from the screams that escaped him in his sleep.

“Don’t apologize, Buck. Never apologize. I’m glad I’m here.”

He sighs. “Me too. Thanks for getting me out of that.”

You squeeze him closer to you. “Always.”

-----

Bucky has three more nightmares throughout the following week.

After the second one, he declines your offer to stay over and decides to stay at his place for a few days. The bags under your eyes fill him with guilt, knowing that his screams in the middle of the night are the cause of them.

“Do you want to push our anniversary back until you feel better?”

He shakes his head. “No way. I’m okay, love, I promise. I think it was just the excitement of the gala. I’ll be settled in no time.”

Your brows furrow, still skeptical. “Okay, Buck. If you’re sure.”

He pulls you into his arms. “I’m sure as hell excited to celebrate you tomorrow, love.”

You laugh into his chest. “Me too.”

The plan had always been to rewatch the Lord of the Rings, just as you had one year ago for your first date. Bucky was in charge of ordering the food and you, of course, made your sangria.

The two of you lay on the couch, limbs wrapped around each other recovering from a pad thai food coma, Willa nestling in between you.

“Do you always groan when Aragorn opens up those doors, love?”

You give Bucky a dreamy grin. “Admit it, babe, you know it’s hot.”

It was.

“I want a sword. Can I get a sword?”

“Sure, doll. As long as you let me train you how to use it first.”

“You know how to use a sword?!”

Bucky gives you a look. “Trained assassin? Remember?”

“God you’re so cool.”

At the end of Return of the King, you reach over to grab a third tissue, dabbing at the tears in your eyes.

“All right, shall we do gifts?”

Bucky jumps up, nervous energy radiating through him. “Yes. Gifts. Let’s do gifts.” He pulls you up with him, smiling at your giggles. He looks to the door of your apartment, then back to you. “I actually have to go get mine. Stay here, I’ll grab you in a minute. Okay, love?”

You laugh more, eyes shining up at him as he leans forward for a kiss. “Don’t be gone long, Buck. I’ll miss you.”

He’s pretty sure his smile could split his face in two, and his eyes don’t leave yours until the door closes, and he sprints to the roof of the building. He opens his phone.

All set. Good luck. ;)

Raina and Abby had snuck over earlier to set up while you and Bucky were marathoning LOTR. He had recruited them about a month ago, just after he had called your dad to give him the news. Not to ask for permission, of course, because you were your own person. He just wanted to let your family know that he loved you and wanted you forever.

“That’s great, Bucky. I’m happy for you,” Chris had said. “Just, don’t tell my wife just yet. I’ll let her know closer to the date. She won’t be able to keep her mouth shut. And I mean that in the nicest way possible.”

Sam had known in Louisiana, since he had gone with Bucky and Sarah to go buy the ring from the jeweler who was a friend of Sarah's. Sam was thrilled. He knew it was bound to happen, and was just glad it was happening sooner rather than later.

How could Bucky wait any longer? You were his favorite person in the whole world. The light of his life. His main sense of joy.

His family.

Hopefully, soon, his wife.

Bucky lets out a soft whistle when he gets to the roof, admiring Raina and Abby’s handiwork. A blue lattice rug replaced the training mat in the middle of the ground, a path of rose petals and unlit candles leading to it. A speaker sat in a corner, and Bucky connects his phone to queue up your favorite song, “Bloom” by The Paper Kites, the one he heard you singing in your apartment before your first movie marathon a year ago.

On the edge sat a small table, with a bottle of champagne and two glasses sitting next to a collection of framed photos of the two of you over the past year. He smiles at each one, admiring how lovely you look in all of them.

In the center of the table lies a black velvet box, which he opens. It’s currently empty.

He reaches in his pocket to pull on the ring he’s been holding onto all day. He takes a second to admire it before placing it in the box, closing it and then resting it back on the table.

Bucky grabs the lighter tucked aside and quickly lights the candles. When he’s done, he smiles at the display.

“Let’s fucking do this, Barnes,” he says to himself. Then, Bucky jogs downstairs back to your apartment.

“Alright, doll, I’m ready for ya!” he exclaims as he opens the door.

Nothing.

He walks toward the kitchen.

“Where you at, love? I gotta give you your present!”

Silence.

The door to your bedroom is cracked open.

“Doll?”

He hones in on his enhanced hearing, listening for your heartbeat as he slowly walks into your bedroom.

“Y/n?”

His hearing is now muffled by the pounding of his heart in his ears.

“Come on, Y/n, this isn’t funny. Where are you?”

Mew.

Bucky’s eyes dart to the window in your room that leads to your fire escape. Willa is sitting outside, staring at him.

“Hey Willa,” he coos as he gently climbs out onto the fire escape, reaching out to grab Willa, “where’s your mom?”

Bucky scritches Willa’s neck and feels something attached to her collar. He twists it and finds a piece of paper folded up.

When he opens it, his heart stops. A small sob leaves his mouth.

“Ты принадлежишь мне”

You are mine.