[1941]

📍BROOKLYN, NEW YORK
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The smell of cigarette smoke and the blaring noises of cars honking over the crowded streets of New York could get overwhelming for some people, but for (Y/N), who'd been living in the city for her entire life, she already knew how to handle it. A coat was wrapped around her figure due to the cold December weather, so she had to speed her walk over to her destination as fast as she could before the frostbite got her completely.

Fortunately, she made it to the door of her destination, opening it rapidly to get away from the cold and faintly hearing the little bell ring when she did so. The warmth of the office swallowed the cold sticking to (Y/N)'s skin, and so she relaxed enough to shrug off her coat and hang it along with the others by the door.

"Dewitt, you're late," a man, or mostly known as her boss Mr. Sanderson, called out for her.

The other women in the office, who were busy covering the phones and answering whenever one rang through the room, flickered their gazes to her. This was majorly a surprise and a first to all, since (Y/N) was commonly known for being early to her job. But could you blame her? Last night had been stressful enough to worry about waking up early for work.

(Y/N) cleared her throat and flashed an apologetic look at the man. "Sorry, sir. It won't happen again."

"It better not," Mr. Sanderson reclaimed with his strict tone of voice. He raised a hand and gestured for her to come forward. "I need to have a work with you in my office, please."

At this point, the other women had forgotten about answering the phones and whispered conspiracies amongst themselves. (Y/N) pretended she didn't notice their eyes fall on her, and even if her insides were drowning in shame, she kept her head high. She followed after Mr. Sanderson toward his office, which was at the back of the room. Once they made it to the door, Mr. Sanderson allowed her to step inside first after opening the door and following behind her.

(Y/N) already feared the worst. Could the man fire her on the spot for being late just one day? Would he allow her to plead her case before he makes the final decision? She had thousands of thoughts swarming through her head, thinking of how this was going to affect her. (Y/N) had not-so-perfectly managed to balance two jobs, one here and the other as a waitress in a small diner, so she felt her throat go dry at the thought of losing that stability.

"Miss Dewitt," Mr. Sanderson spoke again, not bothering to take a seat by his desk. "You have been an exceptional member of this business since the moment you joined. . ."

(Y/N) was already bracing herself for the upcoming 'but' in his sentence.

"So, I had to pretend to be surprised when I received this letter earlier today," Mr. Sanderson grabbed a letter that was sitting on the top of his desk. He twirled it around in his hands before stretching his hand to give it to her.

(Y/N) gladly took the letter and saw the logo on the front, a circle with an angle that had its wings spread out. On top of the logo were the initials of whomever was sending the letter, typing out SSR. She frowned, not recognizing the name.

"What's SSR?"

"Strategic Scientific Reserve," Mr. Sanderson began, reciting the words like he already knew them from memory. "It is a new Allied war agency, founded by President Roosevelt himself."

"And they need someone to cover the phones?" (Y/N) instantly replied, knowing this certain offer could go in only one direction.

"Cover the phones?" Mr. Sanderson repeated the question incredulously. "God heavens, no. They're being tasked to train field agents in irregular warfare and also create an army of super soldiers. Espionage, sabotage, guerrilla tactics."

"Field work?" (Y/N) was absolutely surprised at the request. She couldn't help but think it was strange for her to receive this kind of letter. "But they don't send women into the field."

"They need people who won't draw attention walking down the street," Mr. Sanderson explained calmly. "They need women and they're recruiting you."

"But why? Why me?"

"Well, you're already an exceptional person, Miss Dewitt," Mr. Sanderson complimented, leaning onto his desk for support. "Someone must see a great deal of potential in you. It's quite an honor to be tapped."

"Yes, uh. . .I see. I'm sorry, Mr. Sanderson. I don't believe I'm meant to be in the field."

"This is a rare opportunity for you to strike a massive blow for your country."

"Yes, sir," (Y/N) thought those words through. How many chances like this would she ever get again? Probably none. But she was afraid of not being capable of handling it. Fear that the words all those bullies used to tell her were right.

"But I'm afraid I'm simply not cut out for that kind of work."

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With the offer still dangling on top of her head, (Y/N) continued her daily routine as usual, trying to forget about the offer while doing so. Of course, this did not work, and it caused her to be distracted almost all day. After work, she went to her small apartment, managed to get some rest for at least five minutes before being forced to change into her other uniform.

Her friends weren't sure how she managed it, but (Y/N) was able to juggle between school and not only one, but two jobs all at once. She was all on her own since she was young, so she was forced to learn how to take the reigns of her own life if she wanted to survive in the city.

She made sure to wash the small stains of grease, oil and ketchup out of her apron, but they were still visible for the human eye. (Y/N) did not let this bother her and made her way to the small diner, which was just a few blocks up her home. Even from afar, the bright sign 'Mo's Diner' was visible, so she did not take that much time in arriving like in the morning.

When she entered through the back door, she was received by the smell of boiling oil and sweat, a smell that isn't quite as charming. (Y/N) flashed her coworkers a polite smile on her way to grab her notepad and enter the main area of the diner. Today wasn't as busy as other days, and she was grateful for that. All she had to do for the meantime were filling cups of coffee or bringing meals to the costumers. Simple as that.

After several minutes had gone by, one of the other waitresses called out for her from behind the counter. "(Y/N), there's a gentleman at table four."

(Y/N) scanned the area for the specified table and spotted someone getting comfortable in it. "Got it."

She grabbed onto her notepad and made her way toward the table, not before using one hand towel in her apron to clean a free table and grabbing the menus from it. (Y/N) wished that the man who was awaiting in table four would be respectful, since there had been times where men ask her to smile and even ask her out on dates.

"Excuse me, sir," (Y/N) made herself known to the man in the military green uniform, who was still looking down at his fingernails. "Can I take your order?"

"Sure, doll," the man responded, and there was only one man in the entire world who called her that pet name with a hint of playfulness. Once he lifted his head, (Y/N) was able to recognize the short locks of dark brown hair and that sickening smile.

"What's with the uniform?" was the first thing she blurted out, still trying to keep her voice down.

"I got accepted," Bucky opened his hands to add dramatics to his words, his grin visible though it didn't quite reach his eyes.

(Y/N) felt her heart drop. Sure, that was the reason she didn't get any sleep last night. The USA had announced that they've officially joined the war, and the Recruiting Centers were already sending out their men to enlist others. Bucky and Steve were enlisted, but because of the latter's health issues and small figure, he wasn't accepted. (Y/N) mentally wanted that to happen to Bucky too, but her prayers weren't heard.

"Does your family know?" she dared to ask, knowing how protective his family was.

"I was at home when I got the letter," he informed. He tapped on the table several times as he decided what to say next. It seemed like he was scanning the area, and hoped there weren't too many people around. "Now, I'll order a cup of coffee and then you'll sit down with me and talk, what do you say?"

(Y/N) wasn't at all convinced, but then she took a look around at the almost empty diner. A few minutes with her friend wouldn't hurt, would it? Besides, she wanted to have someone to talk to about the strange offer back in the morning. So, determined, she went off to the kitchen and grabbed the pot of hot coffee and two cups.

She made her way out of the kitchen and avoided the gazes of her coworkers, who just thought she was just following a costumer's wishes. (Y/N) had both of her hands busy, maneuvering between the two cups and the coffee pot, but she safely made it back to Bucky's table and placed it all back down. Her friend grinned at her actions, and urged her to sit across from him.

Before she could open her mouth to talk, (Y/N) was interrupted by Bucky's unexpected question.

"Why did you turn down the SSR job?"

"It just — It wasn't the plan I had for my life," (Y/N) froze at the question, stammering on finding an answer to it. She couldn't quite place how he already knew about it. Word spread out fast nowadays. It's not like she had told Steve, and those two were known for telling each other everything. "How did you know it was the SSR?"

"'Cause I recommended you," Bucky confessed, leaning back against his chair like it wasn't a big deal. He didn't seem fazed at the words coming out of his mouth.

"Bucky. . .Why?" (Y/N), on the other hand, thought it was a huge deal. This wasn't something that happened on a regular morning. "You should've told me."

"Look, (Y/N), I'm one of the people who know you better than anyone else alive," Bucky began, leaning forward to lower his volume. "And this. . ." He gestured to her dirty waitress's uniform. "This isn't what you want."

"What is it do you think I want?"

"The same thing you've wanted since you were a little girl," Bucky told her with a soft tone. "A life of adventure. A place to fight."

"Those were stupid alley fights, Bucky. This is a real war," (Y/N) retorted in a sharp tone. By now, she was avoiding the glances the waitresses were giving her. "I've grown up. Dreams change."

"No, you just let everyone else squeeze it out of you," he muttered with a hint of anger. "Is this really how you see your future?"

"This is my life we're talking about, Buck."

"It's not too late to change your mind."

"I don't have to listen to this."

(Y/N) got up from the table, dusting her apron off and preparing herself to grab the coffee pot and the abandoned cups. This was too much for her to think about in that moment, and she didn't want to admit that Bucky's words were breaking down her protective walls.

Before she could walk away, Bucky gripped on her arm tightly enough to stop her. "Don't worry about what other people think."

"You are meant to fight," he encouraged, just like he did when they were young. "Stop pretending to be someone that you're not."

(Y/N) scoffed and removed his hand off her arm, shaking her head on her way back to the kitchen. Once they realized the conversation was over, the cooks and the waitresses pretended they weren't watching and returned to their duties.

"(Y/N)!" Bucky called out for her. "(Y/N)!"

"I'll tell Steve about this!"

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By the time her shift at the diner was finished, night had completely washed over the city. Stars were hardly visible, yet they were pretty. (Y/N) was too tired to walk all the way to her apartment, but had to do it anyway. Since she didn't live with anybody else, she was received by a cold apartment and probably thousands of bugs hiding underneath the wallpaper.

(Y/N) kept eyeing the forgotten letter of the SSR on the counter, deciding whether or not opening it. She was conflicted in what to choose, and she was absolutely terrified of making the wrong decision. What if she screwed up? Men would never let that down for her. If another man made a simple mistake, they would easily forget it in a matter of seconds. If she did something out of line, (Y/N) was sure it would be marked in history as the worst mistake ever. It wasn't fair.

She groaned and reached out for the letter. She opened it carefully and skimmed through the words, already hearing all it had to say from her talk with Mr. Sanderson in the morning. Once her eyes spotted a phone number, she immediately rushed out to call it.

(Y/N) grabbed the handset of the telephone and placed it against her ear meanwhile the other hand was moving through the numbers on the base unit. Once she finally got all the numbers, the telephone started ringing and she wished for an answer.

"Hello?" someone asked from the other line.

(Y/N) internally panicked before answering. "Hello, yeah," she took a deep breath. "This is (Y/N) Dewitt. I got a letter recruiting me for the SSR."

"Yes, ma'am. How can I help you?"

"I wanted to check if it was possible for me to change my answer," (Y/N) told the person on the phone. "I'd like to accept the offer."

okay, i may not be a history expert, so if you see any sort of mistake on the facts from ww2, feel free to politely correct them for me.

i followed the some facts that are stated in steve's and bucky's (even peggy's) backgrounds in the mcu wiki lol, so i'll take it as cannon.

hopefully the story advances better in the future chapters. and also, one chapter in and i already decided that y/n's song is 'the man'.

-see you soon, bex :)