You stood in front of the mirror, barefoot, holding your breath as you smoothed the fabric down your sides. The dress still took your breath away — even after trying it on a dozen times. You smiled softly, imagining the moment you’d walk toward Bucky at the altar.

Then you shifted your weight slightly, turning to get a better look at the back. But as you turned toward the mirror, the heel of your foot caught the hem and—

Rrrip.

You froze.

“No. No no no—please no.”

You twisted around, trying to see the damage. The back of the dress had ripped clean down the seam.

“No no no no—this isn’t happening!” you muttered, trying to smooth the fabric like that would magically fix it. Your heart was racing. Your wedding was two days away.

You were almost to a full-blown meltdown when the front door opened downstairs.

“Doll?” Bucky’s voice rang out. “You home?”

“NO—don’t come up!” you shouted, frantically not wanting him to see you in your dress before the wedding.

It was too late. He appeared in the doorway, eyes darting from your wide, panicked expression to the torn fabric dangling around you.

“What… happened?” he asked carefully.

You looked at him with wide, panicked, upset eyes. “I ripped it. I ripped my wedding dress, Bucky.”

He walked over slowly, taking in the scene. Then he glanced at the dress, then at you. “Okay… but… I mean it’s just a dress.”

“Just a dress?” You looked at him like he’d lost his mind. “It’s the dress! Two days, Bucky. We’re getting married in TWO DAYS.”

You wrap your arms around yourself tight. “I’m so stupid. I shouldn’t have put it on again. It’s ruined!”

He walked over slowly, like approaching a scared animal. “Okay, deep breaths. First, you still look gorgeous—even with it torn. Second…” He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. “You’re not stupid. You’re excited. And the dress? It’s not ruined. we’ll fix it. I know a guy. Actually, I am the guy. I’ve stitched up worse things under enemy fire.”

You blinked. “You know how to sew?”

He smirked. “Stark made me fix my own suits during missions. Let’s just say I’ve had practice.”

You sniffed. “But this isn’t a combat suit, Bucky. It’s tulle. It’s delicate.”

He smiled, and gently pulls you into his arms. “Then I’ll fix it. Carefully. But if it doesn’t work—guess what? I’ll marry you in jeans and a hoodie if I have to… Now take it off—carefully this time—and let’s save the day, yeah?”

And just like that, your panic started to melt. Because even when everything felt like it was falling apart—he never did.