#BUCKYLOVE

Mrs. Stark □ Part 1

This one might hurt a bit

Before I begin, I must say:
LOOK AT HIS FACE IN THE GIF. HOW COULD YOU NOT WANT TO PROTECT THAT?

Warning: Language, mentions of death
Word count: 2041

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You looked in the full length mirror, your eyes roaming over the SSR uniform you were adorned in. It was quite fitting, not only hugging you in all the right places, but making you feel a sense of pride that was previously much dimmer.

A small knock came on your door- probably the mailman- and you sighed, straightening your coat before walking through your apartment and to the front door.

You opened it to a bittersweet surprise.

"James?" You asked, drinking in the sight of his army green uniform, his hair slicked back and his hat tucked under his arm. "What are you doing here? Weren't we going to meet up tonight?"

"I know, I know." He waved his hand, entering your home as you shut the door. "We just need to talk."

Your heart skipped at his words; we need to talk wasn't ever a phrase you'd want to hear from his lips.

"Wh-What is it?" You asked nervously, wringing your hands together.

He sighed, his eyes on the ground as he spoke, "(Y/N), doll, I... I think it would be better, and easier for both of us, if we were to..." He took a deep breath, "if we were to split before we head off to war."

If anyone has ever said that a heartbreak wasn't painful, they'd been lying. Because the pain in your chest was far worse than any broken bone.

"B-Bucky..." You whispered, your eyes lining with tears.

"I'm sorry." He said, moving towards the door. You watched him, knowing you couldn't let him go, you couldn't let him walk out the day before you arrived on war's doorstep, the day before you took the biggest risk of all.

Your arms flew around is waist, your cheek pressed against his back. Tears were freely flowing down your cheeks.

"You can't leave like this." You choked out, the words catching in your throat. James stiffened as you held him close, his emotionless facade crumbling as you cried.

"(Y/N)." He turned in your arms, trying to not run his hand through you hair, trying to resist holding you. "I could easily die, over there. I'm not going to do that to you."

"I don't care." You said, looking up to meet his eyes, the beautiful blues that you'd fallen in love with.

You loved his eyes.

You loved him.

"James," you said, moving one hand to his cheek, "I love you."

The first time you spoke those three words to any man other than your father, was in your apartment, crying, begging, and to James Buchanan Barnes.

"(Y/N)..." He trailed off, his eyes becoming glossy. "Don't do this to me."

"We both could die, Bucky." You said, "There's always the chance. But, you know what? We need something to fight for, don't we? Something to live for. Please, let me fight for you, James. Let me do it."