April Showers | Bucky Barnes x Reader AU

22 | make it with you

A/N: okay, last chapter. A short but sweet epilogue to come in a couple of hours. Did I cry writing this? Maaaaybe. I hope you enjoy and please don't forget to vote and comment!

Warnings: just a tiny bit of mild smut in the flashback, nothing wild.

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"Do I love you? My God, if your love were a grain of sand, mine would be a universe of beaches."
The Princess Bride, William Goldman

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May 2010

Y/N wanders the aisles of their favourite used bookshop, fingertip tracing over the gold embellishments of books that lost their dust covers years ago and now sit on the shelves in shades of deep blue and burgundy.

"Find anything good?" James' voice floats from the next aisle over. She can just about see glimpses of him through gaps in the shelves, his own arm cradling a decent-sized pile.

This is how they spend their weekends now. Afternoons in bookshops and takeout on the couch when there isn't a party somewhere. A comfortably quiet existence together but never boring. Seven months in and it feels like they've been 'Y/N and James' for years. She's trying not to think about the fact that he leaves for New York in a little over a month's time. There's still exams and his leaving party yet.

"Nothing I don't own already," she sighs. "I really want to find something special, you know?"

"You will, we've only been looking for ten minutes."

"Says the man with his arms full of books."

James laughs, his footsteps stopping as he crouches down and peers at her through a large gap.

"Psst, down here!"

Y/N giggles, ducking to meet his grinning face, eyes bright even in the dim lighting of the shop.

"Hello."

"How do you know some of these aren't for you, pretty girl?"

"I don't. But I also know you're terrible for buying books you aren't going to read so I just assume they're all for you and will sit on your desk forever untouched."

James brings his hand to his chest in mock offence.

"You wound me, sweetheart. But, maybe I picked them up because I know you'll read 'em even if I don't," he counters, "c'mere, I wanna show you what I found."

"Okay, hang on. I wanna finish looking down this aisle."

"Y/N," James whines, dragging out each syllable of her name.

"Jaaaaames."

"Ugh. Fine. Love you."

"Love you too, you weirdo. I'll be two minutes, tops."

True to her word, two minutes later she rounds the corner to see James crouched looking at books on the very bottom shelf. His little stack is sitting neatly beside him and she tries to read the titles on the spines but he snatches them up before she can even make out the first one.

"Okay so," James starts, standing and huddling in beside her, "I found this edition of The Wind in the Willows. There's an inscription, I know you like those."

He passes her the book from the top of the pile and she flips it open to where faded black ink is scrawled, bled into the fibres of the page. It's dated Christmas 1956 and the short message looks like it's addressed to a little girl.