Bucky Barnes Fanfic - Blog Posts

Ominous mists || POV Bucky Barnes

Summary: Former Winter Soldier isn’t sure who he really is. Struggling with the dark past and the metallic voice in his head, he tries to recoup what he had lost.

Warnings: None at this point.

Words: 548

Authors: Beast

A/N: I’ve decided to create my first Bucky’s POV story, hope y'all enjoy it.

“Who do you think you are?” Asks the voice deep inside his head.

I don’t know who am I anymore, he thinks, grinning sadly. He looks down at his metal fingers and how they’re glistening in the setting sun as he stretches them slowly.

The wind blows him straight in the face but he doesn’t mind it at all. Practically, he likes it.

He spent another day by lurking along city streets, without any particular reason. He enjoyed getting lost in the street buzz. And Bucharest was an adorable place to be lost in. The streets were saturated with the remains of communism, although the renewed parts of the city were pulsating with modernized life.

Now, he was sitting at Dâmbovița River, leaning his back against an old linden. Unexpectedly, man shivers when the same voice as before says something loudly inside his mind.

“You’re nothing, just a piece of trash that nobody has ever needed,” voice is getting louder and louder with every second.

SHUT UP!, he shakes his head. You’re not real.

This time, however, the voice doesn’t seem to disappear. “Murderer. You’ve killed so many innocent people. Who do you think you are?

He gets up from the ground and hits the tree’s trunk with metal fist several times. I am not a FUCKING MURDERER!, he screams, he doesn’t pay any attention to few people that stare at him in disbelief.

But the voice gets only louder, spreading through his mind and reaching every single part of his body. "You’re nothing but Winter Soldier, serial killer, piece of trash, the unnecessary system bug which should be removed as soon as possible. But don’t ya worry, they’re coming for ya.”

He turns head around, his hood falls almost on his eyes. He’s afraid, like an animal that got into the hunter’s trap. Are THEY really coming after him???

“Are you okay, sir?” An old woman comes to him, tilting head aside a bit. “Do you need help?”

He struggles with a will to ran. He gently pushes the woman and goes ahead but sinks onto his knees after few steps.

“MURDERER.” The voice keeps humming. “MURDERER, MURDERER, MURDERER!”

He catches his head and with the corner of the eye, he can see how people take steps back as his metal limb is revealed. But he doesn’t care of them. Man only cares to get rid of that awful voice that is pounded somewhere to his brain. He wants to be deaf at all the screams he can hear in his mind and soul, the screams of people he has killed. And these metal clang of that fucking bionic arm! It tears his personality apart. He doesn’t know anymore if he’s a human being whether a machine without emotions.

But there’s a silver lining somewhere in his heart. A familiar male voice, he doesn’t recognize it but somehow it makes that nice warmth spreads across his flesh.

“… till the end of the line…”

At the same second, the metallic voice in his head tries to be louder to deafen the male voice. But he knows the male voice either way…

Man opens his steel blue eyes widely, the last rays of setting sun make them glisten with a comprehension. He screams.

MY NAME IS BUCKY BARNES!!!

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Black Box || Boxer!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You are Bucky’s girlfriend. After another fight, he comes back home being so aggressive. After his abusive behavior you leave. However, you realize shortly after that you love him too much to leave him like that, so you go back to his flat to show him how much you care. 

Warnings: smut, blowjob, angst, slight physical abuse

Words: 1993

Authors: Cass & Beast

Request by: @blue-dragon-ice Request: So I wanna you and Beast write a Bucky one shot where he is a boxer and he comes back home after the fight and you take care of him.

You were sitting on a couch, impatiently looking at the clock.

It was getting late and Bucky still didn’t come back home as he always did around this hour. You still couldn’t get used to fact that your boyfriend was a boxer. You hated seeing him coming back home while being beaten up.

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Hi, hi, hi! I missed U! What a story, need more!

I'm Into You || Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky is so in love with you. The problem is that you don’t know about this fact yet…

Warnings: none expect a lot of fluffiness and Bucky being a sweet dork

Words: 2516

Authors: Cass & Beast

Bucky was looking at his metal arm that was glistening with raindrops.

He was sitting at the balcony of his room at the Avengers Tower.

It was raining but he didn’t care about getting wet. It was one of these days when he was completely lost in the thoughts that were running through his head.

“Y/N… Ah, Y/N.” Bucky mumbled under his breath and ran hand through his already wet bangs.

Truth was that Bucky, the former Winter Soldier, was so in love with you. Yet, he had never found a courage to speak his mind aloud.

“Y/N, hi. I was thinking that… No.. It doesn’t sound good…” He rubbed his beard. “Y/N. Would you mind me asking you to a…. Fuck.” He sighed deeply, hiding face in palms.

When he heard a knocking on his door, he went to open them.

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THE MISTAKE || BUCKY BARNES X READER

SUMMARY: Bucky was hurt by you. You’ve cheated on him with his best friend. Will he prevail his anger and forgive you?

A/N: Hi. This story is written for @thepaperpanda and their writing challenge. My prompt was white. Thank you for allowing me to take part in this challenge ♥ 

WORD COUNT: 1117

You saw that disbelief in Bucky’s eyes when he was standing on the threshold of your bedroom glancing at you on Steve’s laps.

He was deeply hurt, you could easily feel it. Being his girlfriend has taught you a lot, most that when you’ll mess with him, he won’t forget and you’ll pay, sooner or later for what you’ve done against him.

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Jealous Bucky! ❤

FORGIVE ME, I LOVE YOU || Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: Bucky got into an argument with you. But good thing is he realized his mistake rather quickly.

Words: 813 (it’s short, sorry guys!)

A\N: I made this little drabble for the best squad I’ve ever met. @thepaperpanda ~ guys, I ❤ you and thank you for the opportunity you had given me by your writing challenge. All the love to ya!

Bucky was at the office on the one of important team meetings. You were there also, taking you were working for Tony Stark as his personal assistant.

Tony dispensed some folders to each of team members. “Take a look at our new guidelines. I’ve decided to introduce a few changes into our previous regulations.”

Bucky exchanged surprised looks with Captain. “Wait, wait, wait. What?” Rogers asked frowning and shaking hia head angrily. “Why you didn’t consult this with us before?” Steve growled.

“To be honest I thought it won’t be a problem to you all,” Stark shrugged rolling his eyes. “But as I can see, Mr Rogers has an issue, as always.”

Bucky clenched his metal hand into a fist.

“Oh! Barnes, are you okay?” Stark contorted his lips in a wry grimace.

“Yeah. I am,” Bucky looked briefly at you.

You were sitting next to Tony making a notes from the meeting.

The truth was you and Bucky were meeting since few months. But you had to be very secret about it. You knew how Tony would react if he would find out. Besides, Bucky didn’t want to make himself any additional problems.

You threw him a mean look and Bucky turned his eyes away. This moment didn’t run of Tony’s attention, however he said nothing.

“Next time, consult such things with rest of the team before you will make them official, is that clear?” Steve asked firmly. He also looked at you. You ran your glace away.

Tony was silent for a bit, then he nodded insensibly. “Yes,” he agreed.

After the meeting, while you were walking along the corridor in the Tower, Bucky caught you up. “What the hell was that, doll?” He questioned out loudly. “Who does he think he is!?”

“Buck…” You started quietly, “don’t ask me. He’s my boss. I don’t have any influence at his decisions,” you explained shortly. “But that doesn’t mean I agree with him.”

“You cold make a statement, but you rather wanted to stay silent about things, huh, Y/N?” He lowered his strong voice while speaking to avoid others to hear your argument.

You cocked brews and took a step back. “What’s that? Why are you accusing me?” You whispered. “You know I would do everything for you.. For us..”

“He again made a fool from Steve,” Bucky crossed arms over his chest.

“Hah, so that’s the reason?! Steve. Great Captain. Friendship before love, huh?!” This time it was way too much for you to handle. You raised your voice, almost yelling.

Bucky growled deeply, turned around, and rushed back toward staircase. He stopped after few steps, and looked at you above his shoulder. “Maybe you like him more than you like me? But like you wish, go to him! Go ahead! If you want to be his puppy on the leash and obey his every word, no problem. It’s your shitty decision, Y/N!” He went away leaving you in a shock in the middle of the corridor.

So this was the real problem between you two. Bucky was jealous.

After the work you came back home, and got changed in some casual clothes. You decided to go out for a little jogging. You were living in the nice district at the suburbs. It was a calm and great place to live in, and you were enjoying that fact.

When you were running through near park, you heard your phone ringing. You ait on the bench and pull your phone out of the pocket, and answered the incoming call.

“Hallo?”

“Hi, Y/N.” It was no one else but Bucky.

“Sup?” You weren’t in mood for a conversations.

“Listen, doll, I wanna apologize.” Ok. It was something new and completely unexpected. “I judged you wrong, I should know how does it work.”

“Yes. Indeed.” You rolled your eyes but little smile appeared on your face. You were proud of him. It was a very first time when Bucky admitted that he made a mistake.

“Please, forgive me, I love you,” he muttered softly. “Don’t be mad at me any longer..”

For few seconds you remained silent, but then giggled and agreed.

“Yes. I forgive you.”

“Thank you, Y/N.” You heard a happiness in his voice. “And.. By the way. I really do admire your pretty butt in that tight leggings.”

You blinked and quickly got up from the bench looking around. How huge was your astonishment when you saw Bucky sitting few benches away from you.

You lauged and walked to him. Man got up also and wrapped his arms around your waist. His smile etched its way back into his face. His body was warm and toned as he hugged you, comforting to the touch. His voice was deep, with an serious tone. His lips brushed your ear as he spoke.

“I really do love you, Y/N.”

SILVER ➳ BUCKY BARNES MASTERLIST

➳ summary: When your best friends Peter, MJ, and Ned drag you along to a concert, you never expected to fall head over heels with the band, more so the drummer. Wild and erotic, Bucky Barnes is a rich rock star who gets everything handed to him. Between the money, fame, and platinum records, he has a nasty reputation. But when an innocent girl like you comes along, he can't stay away.

➳ pairing: rockstar!Bucky Barnes x College!Reader

➳ warnings: will feature smut, suggestive themes, angst, age gap; Reader is 20, Bucky is 30

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

C H A P T E R S

➳ one

➳ two

➳ three

➳ four

➳ five

➳ six

➳ seven

➳ eight

➳ nine

➳ ten

➳ eleven

➳ twelve

➳ thirteen

➳ fourteen

➳ fifteen

➳ sixteen

L I N K S

➳ spotify playlist

➳ the color collection masterlist

➳ If you love SILVER, check out my original fic on Wattpad; MY SWEETEST ADDICTION

HE NAKEYYY🤺

Spicy Brownies

18+ 

High Bucky x reader 

Remember Spicy Plants ? Here’s spicy brownies. Welcome to another crack fic. 

Imagine the first time Bucky tries edibles. He knew they would hit differently than smoking but he didn’t think much would happen so he had another. Then another. He was a super solider so he’d be fine. So he had one more. 

He was fine.

He was totally and completely fine. 

“Y/N!”

“Y/N Y/N Y/N!!”

“Oh my GOD!”

You and Steve sat in the living room, giving each other panicked looks hearing Bucky yelling from your shared bedroom. You both sprinted to the elevator and ran down the hall, bursting through the door, unsure of what was going on. 

“What is it Buck- oh my god” 

“What the hell…” Steve blinked, slowly backing away while you cocked your head to the side, observing a very naked Bucky looking at the mirror. 

“He nakeyyyy” Bucky whispered, staring at himself in the mirror wide eyed, cupping his own cheeks in utter shock. “Y/n, there’s a naked man in our room” 

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I need to be his controversialy young girlfriend 🏌🏻

babydoll ⋆.𐙚 ̊

cw: age gap

He feels like a creep. Plain and simple. Bucky knows that any woman would be considered “younger”, but you just take the cake. He momentarily feels how hot hell is when you delicately push his hair to the side, clipping in into place with pastel beret. The rest of it gathered into a cutesy scrunchie. “Okay, this one is for wrinkles.” You say, clambering onto his lap. His girl isn’t the most graceful.

The bottle makes him grimace, but the feel of your cute butt in his lap makes it tolerable. He has wrinkles older than you—yikes. “It smells.” He grumbles as he feels you rub skincare product into his skin. “It’s supposed to be lilies!” You say lightly patting his cheek. “This is stupid.” He deadpans, he wraps his arms around your middle when you loop your arms around his shoulders. “It’s not stupid, you’ll thank me someday mister.” You chide very seriously, yelping when he smacks your side. It’s not fair, when you pout like that he wants to kiss you senseless. “Don’t call me mister, ‘m not some stranger you little brat.” He grumbles, being particularly gentle as he slides his cool metal arm under your shirt, just over your tummy. “Sorry baby.” You croon, taking the moment to steal a kiss.

His mental crisis is not helped by the pet name. Baby? If anything you’re the baby here, he gives you a look, it makes you laugh. He finds you to be soothing. You’re a modern woman sure, but those little pj’s you have on with your hair all done up in rollers make him remember a simpler time. He’ll deal with the weird glances whenever you two walk down the street together. He’s not embarrassed anymore to pad over and ask you whatever slang word he’s picked up while people watching. Best of all, he’s finally stopped being stubborn about using his reading glasses to read your texts and see all the cute little selfies you send him.

You pat lotion into his skin, and smile at him. He kisses you, scratching you with stubble. It’s a welcomed itch. When you pull away and kiss the tip of his nose he can’t help but squeeze you. You make him want to smother you. It’s the same when you hear a kitten mew or a baby coo. He likes the feeling. He likes you.

a/n: its almost been an entire month LOL anyways… i think dating a woman under the age of 35 would send bucky into crisis mode and make him feel like a total scumbag (๑ᵔ⤙ᵔ๑)

credit to @aquazero for dividers

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!reader

---

Y/N sat on the rooftop, knees drawn up to her chest, a thick hoodie wrapped around her. The stars were faint, blurred by the city lights in the distance, but still visible if you looked hard enough. She liked it here—above everything, where the air was just a little colder and a little clearer. Where she could breathe.

She didn’t expect to hear footsteps. But she knew whose they were and her heart began to beat faster, her cheeks turning a slight shade of pink. 

“I figured I’d find you up here,” Bucky said, his voice low, carrying just enough to reach her without shattering the quiet.

She didn’t turn around right away. “Can’t sleep either?”

He chuckled, sitting beside her. “Do I ever?”

She glanced at him. He was in a black Henley, sleeves pushed up, metal arm glinting faintly under the moonlight. He looked tired—but softer. Like maybe he found a kind of peace in the stillness too.

“I like the quiet,” she said after a while. “When everything slows down.”

“Yeah.” His gaze followed hers, out toward the faint skyline. “Me too. It's easier to think.”

“To feel?” she asked, careful with the question.

Bucky looked at her then. Really looked. “Yeah,” he said, quieter. “That too.”

Silence settled again, but it wasn’t empty. It was warm. Safe.

“You don’t have to talk,” Y/N said, resting her head on her knees. “Not if it hurts. But if you ever do... I’ll be here.”

A breath left him—soft, like it took weight with it. Then, after a beat, he reached out and wrapped his metal hand gently around hers.

It was cool, careful, but steady.

“I know,” he said. “That’s why I’m here.”

“The news?” Y/N questioned. 

“Yea…I just can’t believe that Sam would give up Steve’s shield like that.”

Y/N was quiet for a moment. “Do you think maybe he’s just not ready?”

Bucky didn’t say anything, just continued to stare ahead. “I just- it makes me think that if Steve was wrong about Sam then maybe he was wrong about me.” 

Y/N turned her body towards Bucky. She reached out and grabbed ahold of his hand-the flesh one- and squeezed it. “Please don’t say that. I didn’t know Steve and don’t know Sam but I’m sure Steve knew what he was doing when he gave Sam that shield. He also was not wrong about you, Bucky. I’ve known you for a few months and you’ve been nothing but kind to me. I mean sure maybe you can be a little grumpy but you’ve never made me feel threatened or uncomfortable.” 

Bucky looked at Y/N. “Grumpy?”

Y/N chuckled and gave him a playful smack on his arm. “Only a little and only sometimes.” 

Bucky’s hand brushed gently against Y/N’s, the faintest touch sparking something quiet and familiar between them. Neither moved away. Instead, their hands lingered, fingertips grazing in a silent understanding—an unspoken comfort that had settled between them like second nature.

----

The last of the customers trickled out of the bar, their laughter fading into the night as the door clicked shut behind them. Y/N made her way to the front, fingers brushing against the slightly smudged glass as she flipped the sign to Closed, the quiet of the empty room settling around her like a soft exhale. It had been a long shift—steady, a little chaotic at times—but now all that remained was the comforting rhythm of cleanup before she could head home, curl up on the couch, lose herself in a feel-good movie, and dig into some well-earned takeout.

But just as she turned to grab a rag from behind the bar, the front door creaked open again. The bell gave a soft chime as it swung closed, and Y/N instinctively pivoted, ready to let the late straggler know they were done for the night.

The words caught in her throat.

A slow, surprised smile bloomed across her face when she saw who stood in the doorway.

Bucky stood just inside the doorway, his frame slightly hunched like he wasn’t sure he should be there, hands buried deep in the pockets of his hoodie. There was something uncertain in his eyes, the kind of vulnerability that made Y/N’s heart squeeze just a little.

“Hey,” she greeted softly, drying her hands on a towel. “How did you know where I worked?”

He gave a small shrug, the corners of his mouth twitching into something that almost resembled a smirk. “I have my ways.”

That earned a quiet laugh from her, but the silence that followed wasn’t awkward—it was weighted, familiar. He made his way over to the bar, pulled out a stool, and sat down with a quiet sigh, resting his arms on the counter. His fingers traced absent patterns on the worn wood, eyes downcast.

Y/N turned back to her cleaning, though her movements had slowed. She kept stealing glances at him, watching the way he sat so still, like he was trying to sort through a storm in his head. She wanted to ask if he was okay, the words right on the edge of her lips. But instead, she waited—giving him space, hoping he’d let her in on his own terms.

“I know that look,” Y/N said gently, glancing over at him as she wiped down the last bit of the counter. “Something’s bothering you. I can tell.”

Bucky shook his head almost too quickly, eyes darting away. “Nope. Nothing’s wrong.”

She didn’t push, just gave him a quiet, knowing look. “Alright. I’m almost done here, then we can head out.”

He gave a small nod, the kind that said he was grateful she wasn’t pressing him. Y/N tucked the last few bottles back into place, the clinking of glass the only sound between them. Then she bent to grab her bag from beneath the bar, slinging it over her shoulder with a tired but content sigh.

As they stepped outside, the night air wrapped around them—cool, crisp, and a little biting. She grinned, nudging him playfully. “So… did you really come all the way down here just to walk me home from work?”

Bucky’s lips twitched with a trace of a smile. “Maybe.”

A chill danced up her spine, and she shivered without meaning to. Bucky noticed immediately. Without a word, he tugged off his hoodie and held it out to her. She blinked in surprise, hesitated for a second, then took it. As she pulled it on, the sleeves hanging long over her hands, she caught the scent of him—clean soap, leather, and something warm that was just him. It made her chest ache in the sweetest way.

“I was thinking we could grab something to eat,” he said casually, running a hand through his hair like he was trying to play it cool. “Or… whatever you want.”

She looked up at him, eyes soft. “I was planning on takeout and a movie.”

He tilted his head. “Unless that sounds boring to you,” she added quickly.

His smile came easy this time—gentle, genuine, the kind that lit up his whole face. “That sounds perfect.”

-------

Y/N led the way down the quiet street to her favorite little pizza place, the one she always ended up craving after a long shift. The familiar scent of garlic and melted cheese hit her the second they stepped inside, instantly lifting her mood. She placed an order for her go-to pizza, the one she could eat a thousand times and never get tired of.

“Are you sure you don’t want your own?” she asked, glancing up at Bucky with a raised brow.

He just shook his head with a faint smile. “I’m good. I’ll have whatever you’re having.”

When the total popped up on the register, Y/N instinctively reached for her wallet—but Bucky was quicker. He slid his card across the counter without missing a beat.

“Hey—come on, I’ve got this,” she protested, nudging his arm.

He just gave her a look. Steady. “Next time.”

With the warm box of pizza in hand, Bucky carried it like it was something precious as they walked the short distance to their apartment building. Inside the elevator, the hum of machinery filled the space as he hit the button for her floor. The moment was quiet, but not awkward—just a soft kind of stillness that felt easy between them.

Once inside her apartment, Y/N headed to the kitchen, pulling out two mismatched plates from the cabinet and handing one to Bucky.

“I’ll be right back,” she said with a smile, before slipping down the hallway to her bedroom.

She changed quickly, trading her work clothes for a pair of well-worn leggings and her favorite oversized t-shirt. After a moment’s pause, she grabbed Bucky’s hoodie from where she’d left it earlier and slipped it back on—it still smelled like him, and the extra weight of it around her shoulders was oddly comforting.

When she padded back into the living room, Bucky was already seated on the couch, the pizza box resting on the coffee table in front of him. He sat back with his arms crossed, muscles stretching beneath the tight fabric of his t-shirt in a way that made Y/N pause in the doorway a second longer than she meant to.

She shook herself out of it and moved to the couch, settling a safe-but-not-too-far distance from him.

Grabbing the remote, she pulled up her favorite comfort show—one she’d seen a hundred times but never got tired of—and hit play. She reached for a slice, the warmth of the food matching the growing ease between them.

Bucky grabbed a piece too, and for a while, they sat side by side, the glow of the TV flickering across their faces, saying nothing at all.

But the silence was anything but empty—it was filled with the kind of quiet comfort that only comes from being with someone who feels like home.

As the night wore on and a few more episodes passed, Y/N realized—somehow, without even noticing when it happened—that she was sitting much closer to Bucky than she had been at the start. The gap between them had gradually disappeared, replaced by the easy lean of shared warmth. She knew he usually shied away from touch—but he hadn’t moved. He hadn’t flinched or pulled back. If anything, he seemed… settled.

The credits of the latest episode began to roll, the soft background music filling the quiet room.

“Thank you,” Bucky said, his voice low and almost hesitant.

Y/N turned her head to look at him, her brows drawn together gently. “For what?”

He gave a small shrug, blue eyes fixed on the screen like he couldn’t quite meet her gaze. “For letting me crash your night. I didn’t mean to interrupt anything.”

“You didn’t,” she said softly, her lips lifting into a smile. “I like hanging out with you, Bucky.”

And before she could overthink it, she reached down and slid her hand into his—his flesh one—her fingers curling gently around his. She gave a soft squeeze, grounding and sincere.

“You’re always welcome here,” she said. “Even if you don’t want to talk. We can just sit. Be. I’m okay with that.”

For a beat, he didn’t say anything. Then she felt his hand tighten around hers, not possessively, just… steady. Reassuring. And he didn’t let go.

The next episode began to play, the familiar theme music rising again, but neither of them really paid attention. They stayed just like that, fingers laced together, hearts quietly aligned in the shared silence—trying, and failing, to focus on the screen when all they could really feel was the presence of the other.

---

Y/N stirred slowly, her eyes fluttering open as the early morning light filtered softly through the curtains. For a moment, she blinked against the haze of sleep, her brain sluggishly trying to piece together where she was. The couch. Her living room. The remnants of the night before flickered back into focus like a warm dream.

What she hadn’t expected was the weight wrapped around her—the steady rise and fall of a chest beneath her cheek, the warmth of two strong arms encircling her.

Bucky.

Her head rested against his chest, where his heartbeat thudded in a calm, even rhythm. His breath was slow and steady, lips slightly parted in sleep, completely at peace in a way she rarely got to see. And somehow, over the course of the night, they’d both melted into one another, tangled up on her small couch like it was the most natural thing in the world.

She should’ve been surprised. But she wasn’t. Not really.

Y/N shifted slightly, her body stiff from sleeping in one position for too long. Carefully, she reached out, fingers brushing against his arm as she tried to slip out of his hold without waking him.

But before she could move more than an inch, Bucky’s arm tightened around her waist—gentle but firm. His other hand came up sleepily to rest at the small of her back, and without opening his eyes, he pulled her right back against him with a quiet, content sigh.

Y/N froze for a heartbeat, caught between amusement and something far softer, deeper. Her lips curled into a sleepy smile as she relaxed into him again, letting her eyes drift closed once more.

If this was how mornings with Bucky felt—quiet, safe, wrapped in warmth—she wouldn’t mind waking up like this a lot more often.

“Don’t move. I’m comfortable,” he murmured, his voice low and gravelly. 

Y/N let herself relax against him again, her cheek resting against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. The world outside didn’t exist—not the mission reports, not the news, not the ghosts that sometimes lingered in both their silences.

Just the two of them.

She felt Bucky shift slightly, just enough to rest his chin lightly on the top of her head. His hand—flesh and warm—brushed slow, absentminded strokes along her arm. It sent a tingle down her spine that had nothing to do with the cold.

“You’re warm,” he murmured sleepily.

She smiled against his shirt. “That’s because I’m wearing your hoodie.”

“Keep it,” he said, without hesitation.

Y/N tilted her head back slightly so she could look up at him. “You sure?”

His eyes met hers, blue and unguarded, still heavy with sleep but clear in a way that made her breath catch. “Yeah,” he said, softer. “Looks better on you anyway.”

That made her cheeks flush, and she quickly looked down to hide the smile pulling at her lips. His fingers brushed her jaw gently, coaxing her gaze back to his.

“You always do that,” he said, voice quiet.

“Do what?”

“Look away when I’m staring at you.”

“That’s because you stare,” she teased, her voice a little too breathless for her liking.

“I do,” he admitted. “And you never seem to notice how much I like it.”

She blinked. The teasing vanished from his voice—replaced by something quieter, deeper.

Her heartbeat stumbled.

“Bucky…” she started, unsure of what to say. But he was already leaning in, his hand moving up to cup her face with infinite care—like he was afraid she might flinch or vanish if he wasn’t gentle enough.

“I’m gonna kiss you now,” he murmured, eyes flicking from hers to her lips and back. “Unless you tell me not to.”

She didn’t say a word.

She couldn’t.

Instead, she nodded, just once—barely a breath of movement—and then he was kissing her.

Soft. Slow. Deliberate.

It wasn’t the kind of kiss that demanded or rushed. It was the kind that lingered, like he had all the time in the world. His lips moved against hers with a careful sort of reverence, like he couldn’t quite believe she was real. Her fingers curled into the front of his shirt, and she kissed him back just as softly, pouring into it every quiet moment they’d shared—every time he’d sat beside her in silence, every word he hadn’t needed to say.

When they finally pulled apart, their foreheads rested together, breath mingling.

“Well,” she whispered, her lips still tingling, “that was... worth staying up for.”

Bucky gave a small huff of laughter. “Yeah?” he said, brushing his thumb over her cheek. “Because I’ve been thinking about doing that for a long time.”

“You should’ve said something.”

“I think I just did,” he said, and this time, the smile that curved his lips was real—and a little smug.

Y/N shook her head, grinning as she nudged his chest playfully. “You’re lucky I like you, Barnes.”

“Yeah,” he said, pressing another feather-light kiss to the corner of her mouth. “I’m starting to figure that out.”

Make-Out Point

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Making out with Bucky is always an event to remember.

Warning: Uuh making out? Not really any I think?

Word Count: 810

A/N: Here’s the 2nd request for Miri’s 2k Celebration. Thank you to everyone who has submitted requests. I am working on them as first come first serve style. I hope to get two more out this weekend and work on rest throughout the week. This one came from @moodymcu​ Thank you for the requests sweetheart.

hi! i recently followed you and congrats on 2k! i was wondering if you could do a drabble about the STEAMIEST make out session with bucky or steve would be like?? congrats again! 💗  

Keep reading

nowhere for you to stay (bucky barnes x reader)

content warnings: angst, allusions to depression (bucky, not reader), sad bucky, mental health, lack of self-care, female reader, this is basically just me venting about the terrible ending that they gave steve (he didn’t deserve this and neither did bucky nor me)  word count: 1.5k a/n: so, i promise, i really am trying to finish my wips, but this came to me today while listening to renegade, also sorry for being m.i.a. for like three weeks but I spent easter with my family and had to recharge lol and then uni started again, so that kinda kicked my ass a little also, i watched thunderbolts* yesterday and it was great!!! (dw, this is spoiler-free)

You knocked on his door – three sharp, distinct sounds – and waited.  For a few seconds you entertained the thought that Bucky wasn’t home. That he was out and about, doing something with his life. Maybe he had picked himself up and gone to the gym, or maybe he had finally deleted the various food delivery apps and instead had gone grocery shopping. But there was a faint whirring, locked behind the old wooden door to his apartment, a sound that belonged to a light turned on. The complex in which Bucky resided was old – not as old as the man himself but certainly bordering on it. Windows creaked when the wind was strong, the lighting flickered, and pipes groaned during the coldest months.   He had moved here after returning from Wakanda and you had helped him set up his living space. You had begged and pleaded with him to rent a place closer to you, or to maybe even move in with you. But he had just shook his head and had looked at you with those heartbroken, empty eyes that seemed a little less blue and a little more grey since Steve was gone. So, you had helped carry the sparse amount of furniture and décor he had up to the fourth-floor apartment, had sorted spice containers of which you were sure that he hadn’t used them yet and had presented Bucky with a plant as a housewarming gift. He had smiled sadly and thanked you and you had known that the plant was not going to make it more than a week. Every day you called, every day he answered – for a limited time. Sometimes, the exchange was as short as thirty seconds, just enough for you to hear that he was still alive and not planning on changing that.  Once a week, on Saturdays, you took the subway to visit him, to stay with him for a few hours. You never managed to convince him to get out of the apartment with you but at least you saw him.  The last week had been different. He hadn’t answered your calls, only sent short messages (“I’m fine – can’t talk right now” or “let me call you back later”) and your heart ached every time the busy signal had echoed from your speaker. Of course, you hoped that it meant that he was actually busy, distracted, doing something.  But the faint buzz of a burning lamp in his apartment told you that he was home. No matter what, Bucky always made sure to turn off all lights and close all windows before he left his place, so he must have been ignoring the knocking.  To his credit, you were a day earlier than usual. It was Friday instead of Saturday, and you hadn’t announced yourself either, so he wasn’t expecting you. The silence, the unanswered calls had given you anxiety induced stomach pains, so you had taken the day off from work and had gotten an Uber to his place.

You knocked again and lightly cleared your throat – a chance for Bucky’s enhanced hearing to place you and for him to open the door. Still, the knob didn’t twist, the many locks he had put on additionally didn’t rattle and you could have sworn that the whirring of the lamp you had heard earlier died down. “Bucky,” you called out, “It’s me. Can you please open the door?” You waited. Seconds that felt like minutes ticked by and your hands got clammy as you shifted on your feet. “Bucky, you gave me a key. But I don’t wanna use it, so, please just let me in. Bu-,” before you could finish his name, you heard a series of noises. A pair of feet shuffling over creaky old floorboards, and what sounded like dishes being set down in the sink. Then you heard a window being ripped open – the frame squeaked terribly – and then the footsteps came closer.  One lock was unlocked, then the second one. A metallic clank sounded and then the doorknob turned.  The door opened with a squeak that made your teeth hurt.  The apartment was dark, and despite the cold breeze that the recently opened window let in, it smelled dusty and faintly like old takeout food.  “Hey.” One thing about Bucky is that he just could not lose his charm. He stood before you, eyebags darker than ever, brown curls unkempt and knotted, and his scruff on his cheeks a little longer than usual and asymmetrical – as if he had laid on one side for too long. 

Despite his appearance, he leaned against the doorframe with a trace of his characteristic smile turning up his mouth corners.  “Hi,” you replied, slightly perplexed.  “I didn’t realise it was already Saturday,” he said after a few seconds of silence and attempted to swipe his hair from his forehead until he realised that it was too unbrushed to run his fingers through it.  He awkwardly dropped his hand but gave you another smile. “It’s not,” you answered and peered past him. Before you could properly glance into his apartment, he moved into your eyeline, a determined look in his eyes.  “Oh. Then what are you doing here?” He asked, shifting again when you tried to steal another glimpse into his living space. You took a few seconds before you replied during which you struggled not to be offended by his question.  “You never called me back,” you explained then, and locked eyes with him. Heat rose on his face as you bluntly called him out and his hands again found their way into his hair, and again, he had to drop them back to his sides as he couldn’t nervously run them through.  “Yeah, no, I meant to, but I… I was busy,” he stammered, blocking your third attempt to look past him.  “Okay,” you murmured slowly, “Can you… would you mind letting me in?” Bucky chewed on his lip for a few seconds, and you could practically see the wheels turning in his head as he tried to find a way to let you down gently. “Uh, now’s not a good time.”

Your heart sank even further as you tried to come up with reasonings with his behaviour. “Are you-,” you began, and stared at your feet instead of meeting his eyes, “Is someone in there with you?” His eyes went round with surprise before he composed himself.  “What? No, no, I’m… I’m alone in here, but it’s just not, uh, a good time, like I said.” A little bit of the tightness in your chest loosened as he genuinely looked shocked at your implication. But you still couldn’t understand why he wouldn’t let you in. “Are you leaving? Like, are you going somewhere?” You inquired then, trying to find a reason that would satisfy you. Bucky stayed quiet before he shook his head.  “No, nothing like that. Listen, doll, I just… I haven’t really prepared for visitors, or anything like that, so it’d be great if… um –,“ before he finished speaking, you could tell that he was having a hard time sending you back home. He knew how long the ride here was and that you usually worked on Fridays. “it’s just not a good time,” he concluded.

There was a faint line, so thin that it was barely visible, that you were threatening to cross right now. A line between what Bucky allowed you to see on the Saturdays when you visited him, and the rest of his life.  “Just let me in,” you whispered. “Let me… help you.” The conflict in his eyes played out like a storm. Vulnerability and stubbornness raged against each other, as he seemingly weighed his options: allowing you in or pushing you away. Both seemed to frighten him as you heard how his metal arm whirred while he clenched and unclenched his fists. “Alright,” he mumbled and slowly stepped back. His apartment was in a terrible state. For someone who had very little furnishings, a tiny amount of clothes and basically no personal belongings it should have been easy to basically produce a clinically clean space. Instead, you saw instant food packaging, empty beer cans and ripped paper shreds sprawled across his couch table. You recognised the paper as an article about Steve – honouring his legacy and paying tribute to his sacrifice. You had read the same one a few days ago and had cried until your head hurt. The sofa cushions were crumbled up and uneven. A thin blanket laid on the floor as if it had fallen off or been pushed off in a hurry. He must have slept there instead of in his bed.  The kitchen door was half closed, and through the gap you saw dishes towering dangerously, a towel haphazardly slung over them in an attempt to hide them. You turned to face Bucky, who refused to meet your eye. Instead, he clenched his jaw so tight that it must have hurt and stared out the opened window. “Bucky,” you whispered.  “Like I said, I didn’t know you were coming.” His tone was defensive and sharp, but his eyes glistened as the shame burned in him. “Bucky, look at me,” you pleaded and took a few steps towards him. “This place is a mess,” he croaked, his voice heavy with unshed tears, “There’s nowhere for you to stay.” “But I’ll stay anyway,” you murmured and rested your hand on his cheek. “I’ll stay and help you.”

Piece of art 💓🦇

unsolved masterlist

Summary: Bucky doesn't even believe in the paranormal. So who the hell thought it was a good idea to stick him in a series about everything haunted for the internet's amusement? With his loose-canon of a teammate who has no concept of subtlety or any shits left to give, to make things even worse.

(Buzzfeed unsolved AU)

Warnings: cursing, frustrated bucky, dramatic reader, horror/paranormal elements

Disclaimer: no plot just vibes <3 it's just another banger dynamic that i loved and therefore had to write a garbage fic about. This is, in no way, a literary masterpiece so just be warned.

Here’s my Ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing!

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Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

Part 11

Part 12

Part 13

Pretty flowers for a lovely boy

Flower Bouquet

Summary: You buy him flowers.

Word count: 1811 Words

Warnings: No one.

Bucky Barnes X Reader

You walk into the flower shop, your footsteps quiet on the polished floor. The moment you open the door, a wave of floral scents greets you, sweet, fresh and calming. You pause for a second, just to take it all in. Flowers have always held a special place in your heart. They’re simple but full of life, just like the way you feel when you’re with him. Bucky.

You glance down at your phone. It’s been a few months now. Time has flown by, but in the best way. You and Bucky have found a rhythm, a connection that grows deeper each day. He’s no longer the stoic man he once was. Not entirely. And you… you’re no longer the person you were before he came into your life.

A smile tugs at your lips as you begin to peruse the shelves. The roses are beautiful, but not today. Not for him. You want something different, something that suits who he is, not just the conventional symbol of love. Your fingers brush against a bunch of white lilies, their petals delicate and pure, and you stop.

Perfect.

You pick them up carefully, admiring their simplicity. Their fragrance fills your nose, soft but with just enough sweetness to make your heart flutter. You take your time, adding a few sprigs of lavender and a couple of purple irises to the mix. It’s subtle, elegant.. like him. You know he’s not someone who needs grand gestures, but you also know how much he appreciates when people show they care, when they take the time to think of him.

The florist wraps the bouquet in soft tissue paper, tying it with a simple satin ribbon. You thank her, your hands cradling the flowers like they’re something precious, because to you, they are. You’re giving them to him.

When you reach his apartment, the nerves start to settle in. They’re not nerves from doubt, but more from the excitement of wanting to make him feel special. It’s not the first time you’ve gotten him something, but it’s the first time you’ve given him flowers. It feels like a big deal, like you’re taking another step together. You’re not even sure why you decided to do this, maybe just maybe because you saw them at the flower shop and thought of him, or maybe because you just want to see him smile.

You knock on his door and wait, your heart thumping in your chest. A few seconds later, the door opens and there he is. Bucky. Standing in his usual attire, a simple T-shirt, jeans and his leather jacket that fits him perfectly. The way he looks at you, his blue eyes lighting up when he sees you, makes everything inside you settle.

“Hey” he says, his voice warm, low and familiar. His gaze flickers to the bouquet in your hands. “What’s this?” he asks with a smile that makes his eyes crinkle at the corners.

You grin, a little shy now, but trying to keep your cool. “For you,” you say, holding them out to him. “Just because.”

Bucky blinks, his gaze dropping to the flowers. His metal hand twitches slightly at his side, like he’s not sure if he should take them or not.

“…You got me flowers?” His voice is cautious, like he’s expecting a punchline.

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, that’s usually how this works.”

His brows furrow slightly in surprise, his lips parting as if he’s not sure what to make of this. His hand hesitates before he takes the bouquet from you, fingers brushing against yours for a brief, electric second.

“You didn’t have to do this,” he says, his voice low but filled with genuine gratitude. “What’s the occasion?”

You shrug, trying to appear nonchalant, though your heart is racing a little. “No occasion. I just thought you’d like them.”

Bucky stares down at the flowers, his expression softening as he takes in their delicate beauty. “They’re beautiful,” he says quietly. “But, uh… I’m not used to getting flowers.”

He looks at it like it’s some kind of unfamiliar artifact, turning it slightly in his hands, inspecting the mix of blue delphiniums, white lilies and a few sprigs of lavender.

“No roses” he murmurs.

“You don’t seem like a roses kind of guy.”

His lips twitch, the closest thing to a smile. “And I seem like a…?”

You shrug. “Delphinium and lavender kind of guy.”

Bucky lets out a small, breathy chuckle, shaking his head. “That’s a first.”

You chuckle, stepping closer to him. “Well, consider it as our first,” you tease. “I figured you could use something to brighten your day.”

You cross your arms, leaning against the doorframe. “So, do I get a ‘thank you’ or are you just gonna stand there looking at them like they’re a bomb?”

He huffs a laugh but looks back down at the bouquet, his fingers tracing one of the petals absentmindedly. His expression softens, something unreadable passing through his eyes.

“I… yeah.” He clears his throat, shifting his weight. “Thank you. I just… no one’s ever given me flowers before.”

You tilt your head. “Never?”

He shakes his head. “Not really something guys like me get.”

You frown slightly. “Well, that’s dumb. Flowers aren’t just for girls. They’re for people you care about.”

Something in his expression changes, something subtle but deep, like he’s trying to process the weight of your words. He looks back down at the bouquet again, then exhales softly, almost like he’s letting himself accept it.

He smiles again, this time with a hint of something vulnerable. He looks up at you, his gaze searching, before he clears his throat. “I don’t know what to say. I don’t really know how to handle this.”

You chuckle softly. “It’s simple, Bucky. You just accept it. No need for a big speech or anything.”

He lifts the bouquet to his nose, inhaling deeply. For a moment, his eyes flutter closed and a quiet sigh escapes him. You watch him, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. It’s a simple thing, this gift, but you can already tell it means something to him. Maybe it’s not the flowers themselves, but the thought behind them. The fact that you were thinking of him, that you wanted to give him something. You know that his past has made him wary of affection, of kindness, but moments like this show that he's willing to let down his guard just a little more each time.

After a moment, he looks back up at you, his expression softer, more open than before. “Thank you. This... really means a lot to me,” he says, voice thick with something you can’t quite name.

You smile, relieved to see that he’s not rejecting the gesture, but genuinely appreciating it. “I’m glad you like them. I thought they suited you.”

He chuckles, a small, almost awkward sound and rubs the back of his neck. “I’m just not used to this. People... doing nice things for me, just because.”

You tilt your head slightly, meeting his eyes. “Well, you deserve it. You deserve to be treated well. And these” you gesture to the bouquet “are just a small way of showing you that.”

Bucky’s eyes soften and you notice the way he’s looking at you, like he’s seeing you in a new light. “You’re something else,” he murmurs, his voice full of awe, like he’s trying to process it all. “I don’t know how I got so lucky.”

Your heart skips a beat and for a second, you don’t know what to say. You just stand there, looking at each other, a thousand unspoken words hanging between you. The vulnerability in his voice, the warmth in his eyes… it makes your chest ache in the best way.

“Well” you say, your voice teasing to break the tension. “Now that I’ve made you blush, I’ll take my leave.” You make a move toward the door, but before you can step past him, Bucky grabs your wrist gently.

“Wait” he says, his voice a little rougher than usual. “I want to thank you properly.” He pulls you back toward him, not forcefully, just enough to close the distance between you. His eyes search yours and before you can even react, he steps closer, leaning in to brush his lips against your cheek in a soft, lingering kiss.

You freeze for a second, your breath catching. He pulls away slowly and you can’t help the smile that spreads across your face. You glance at the flowers in his hands again, feeling a rush of warmth flood through you.

“You didn’t have to do that” you murmur, though you know it’s a lie.

“I wanted to” he says quietly, his thumb gently brushing the back of your hand. “You don’t know how much this means to me. You’re making me believe in things I didn’t think I could anymore.”

You look up at him, your heart full. “I’m glad,” you whisper.

“Come inside” he says after a moment, stepping back to let you in.

You follow him in, watching as he moves toward the kitchen, still holding the bouquet with a sort of hesitant reverence. He sets them down on the counter, staring at them for a second before glancing at you.

“So… what do I do with them?”

You snort. “You put them in water, grandpa.”

He glares at you, but there’s no real heat behind it. “I know that.” He pulls a glass from the cabinet, filling it with water before placing the flowers inside. It’s not the best makeshift vase, but it works. He stares at them for a long moment, then, almost absently, lifts one of the lavender sprigs and twirls it between his fingers.

“They smell nice,” he mutters.

You smile. “Yeah. Figured you’d like that.”

Bucky’s quiet for a second before he leans against the counter, looking at you with something unreadable in his expression. “You really just… got these for me? No reason?”

You shrug. “Do I need a reason?”

He shakes his head slowly, his thumb brushing over the lavender again. “No. I guess not.”

There’s something raw in his voice, something that makes your chest tighten. You don’t push, don’t press him to say anything more. Instead, you just step closer, resting your hip against the counter beside him.

Bucky exhales, running a hand through his hair before giving you a sideways glance. “You’re somethin’ else, you know that?”

You smirk. “I get that a lot.”

He huffs another soft laugh, then looks back at the flowers, something warm settling into his expression. “I like ‘em,” he admits, voice softer now.

Your chest warms. “Good.”

And as he stands there, quietly admiring the simple gift, you realize that this, this quiet, unspoken moment, is exactly why you brought them in the first place.

Bucky is gorgeous and he needs to be reminded everyday 💓‼️

More to Love

Summary : Bucky marries you, someone who shows love through food. When his body changes, you show him he’s cared for no matter what.

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x wife!reader (she/her) 

Warnings/tags : FLUFF! Hurt/Comfort, Body Image Issues, Insecurity, Established Relationship, Weight Gain, implied sex, cursing, Food as Love Language.

Word count : 2.4k

Note : If you’d like to be on the taglist, message me! It gets lost in the comments sometimes. Enjoy!

Bucky hadn’t meant to gain weight.

It wasn’t like he woke up one day and decided, hey, let’s pack it on.

It crept in, slowly, like moss between cracks, or rust under paint. At first, it was just little things: seconds at dinner, not skipping dessert, an appetiser here and there.

See, when you and Bucky first started dating, it didn’t take long for him to realise that food was your love language. You cooked like it was second nature—every ingredient always added with care. He’d come home from missions or long training days to find you in the kitchen with your sleeves rolled up, humming to some old tune while stirring sauce or kneading dough. And your smile always lit up when you fed him, like watching him eat something you made was its own kind of joy. And Bucky, who’d spent so much of his life surviving, hadn’t known how hungry he was for that kind of care until you started filling his plate and his heart at the same time.

Somewhere between your late-night pastas and Sunday roasts, his shirts started to fit tighter around the middle. The scale ticked up a few numbers. He still trained, but it was different now. He wasn’t on a calorie deficit, and he was doing things for functional and not aesthetic purposes. He focused on Pull-ups, sparring, lifting until his arms couldn’t take any more. He could throw a grown man across the room. Probably you too, and that wasn’t a fantasy you were opposed to.

But even when his body changed, and time went by, your cooking didn’t stop. If anything, after you got married, it grew more intentional. You experimented more— comfort dishes from his childhood, thick stews you imagined his man might've made, and big, carb-heavy meals to help him recover after a mission. You packed him leftovers in little glass containers, sometimes with a note tucked in the lid. You didn’t just feed his body. You fed his memory, his heart, his right to be human again.

Still.

He’d catch his reflection in the bathroom mirror, shirtless, sweaty from a workout, and stare at his stomach. 

He hated that it made him feel weak. Sloppy. 

“Used to be leaner,” he muttered once, toweling off after an especially brutal workout session. 

You rolled your eyes, but with love, and tossed another towel at his chest. “Yeah? Well, I used to think I liked abs, but turns out I like a powerhouse husband who can deadlift a damn car more.”

That earned you a faint smile, but it didn’t erase the dread in his eyes— the one that said you’re lying, or you’re just saying that to make me feel better.

You weren’t.

God, you weren’t.

Because Bucky Barnes built like a brick shithouse? Bucky Barnes with thick arms and wide shoulders and thighs like tree trunks and a stomach that was less abs and more functional muscle? He was the kind of man you could climb like a jungle gym and bury your face against to feel safe. That strength wasn’t just aesthetic— it was real. 

And every meal you cooked was another way of telling him so. Every tray of roasted veggies, every slow-cooked braise or pan of cinnamon rolls was a reminder: You’re still cared for. You’re still mine.

To be fair, he’d never been satisfied with his body, not really. Not when it was used as a weapon. Not when it was hyper-lean, a machine starving for control. And not now, when he felt like losing the only grip he’d ever had on himself.

Then came the movie night.

You were watching some dumb action flick, all glossy lighting and guys with chiseled jaws and ten-pack abs. The kind of thing that didn’t usually bother you. 

C’mon, watching a superhero movie while being married to one? It was kind of surreal, kind of stupid. 

You’d whipped up a bowl of nachos earlier, layered with roasted veggies, black beans, just enough cheese to feel indulgent, but still a net benefit for your body, the way Bucky liked. He’d been halfway through the bowl, one hand resting on your thigh, when he suddenly stopped eating.

At first, you didn’t think much of it. Maybe he was full. Maybe the movie was just boring. But then you felt the way he shifted like his body was trying to shrink.

You turned your head to see him.

His eyes flicked to the screen. Then to the bowl. Then to his stomach. And then away.

You paused the movie.

“Buck?” you asked gently.

He didn’t look at you. “I’m fine.” He said it too quickly.

You set the nachos aside and turned toward him. “What’s going on?”

He hesitated.

“Look at those guys,” he said, motioning toward the frozen screen. “All shredded. And I’m just—” He trailed off, letting the bitterness finish the sentence for him.

Your heart broke.

You reached over and rested your hand on his chest, right where his heart beat under your palm.

You frowned in that goddammit I love you, why don’t you see what I see? kind of way.

You didn’t say anything right away, but moved closer, settled into his lap, and rested your forehead to his. 

“Bucky,” you whispered, voice soft as a feather, “you could have abs again tomorrow and I wouldn’t love you more than I do right now.”

He swallowed hard. 

“You say that now,” he insisted. “But maybe one day you’ll wake up and realise you’re married to some washed-up vet with a gut and a metal arm.”

You cupped his face firmly and made him look at you.

“Hey,” you scolded playfully, “Don’t you dare talk about my husband like that.”

A ghost of a laugh bubbled out of him. 

“You carry people out of burning buildings, Bucky. You wrestle Walker for fun and win more than half the time.” That earned you another chuckle. “You’ve got a body that’s survived hell and back. And you still use it to hold me like I’m the most fragile thing in the world.”

He looked like he didn’t know whether to cry or pull you into his arms and never let go. So you did it for him— you held him close, kissed the curve of his neck where tension still pulled on his muscles.

“You are so hot, Bucky Barnes,” you whispered. “So fucking hot. Built like a damn tank. Fuckin’ making me feel like the luckiest woman alive.”

He buried his face in your shoulder then, arms wrapping tight around you, so you didn’t move for a while.

He held onto you like you were tethering him to the Earth. His arms were so big, so safe and real. 

Eventually, his rapid breathing slowed. Then, slowly so as not to startle him, you leaned back just enough to look at him. His eyes were pink, glassy, and still a little distant.

“C’mere,” you whispered, taking his hand.

Bucky didn’t ask where you were going. He just followed you, quiet and trusting, fingers interlaced with yours. You led him into the bedroom, and he paused near the mirror at the side of your shared bed.

“I don’t—”

“I know,” you said. “But I want to show you something.”

You stood behind him at first, wrapping your arms around his thick waist, your cheek resting between his shoulder blades. He tensed up at his own reflection. You could feel it in the way his shoulders were bracing for impact.

But instead of asking him to look, you slowly stepped around him, sat on the edge of the bed, and pulled him gently toward you.

He didn’t resist.

You kissed the underside of his forearm first, the one made of flesh. Then his metal hand. You worked your way up, past scars and veins and muscle, until he was standing between your knees, and you lifted up his shirt and lowered his sweatpants just a bit, until you were kissing the stretch of skin just above his waistband.

Then, higher.

His stomach rose and fell under your lips.

You kissed the curve of it. One, then another. A third, right by his belly button. Your hands held his hips like he was loved. 

“You think this makes you less?” you said in disbelief, your breath warm against him. “Because all I see is more. More to hold. More to love. More of you.”

Bucky’s fingers twitched at his sides. He was stock-still, as if when he moved, he might fall apart. You looked up at him and saw the tears gathering again.

“Every inch of you is mine to love,” you whispered, “and you don’t get to tell me which ones I can’t.”

A choked sound made it last his lips. 

He dropped to his knees in front of you and wrapped his arms around your waist, burying his face against your chest like he was starved for touch.

“I don’t deserve you,” he mumbled, voice breaking at the seams .

You kissed the top of his head.

“Tough,” you whispered into his hair. “You’re stuck with me. And so is that stomach. And that chest. And fuck— those thighs.”

He huffed a laugh against your skin. “You like the thighs, huh?”

“Obsessed.” You nuzzled into his hair. “Do you even know what it does to me, watching you exist in this body like it was built for loving me?”

He pulled back just enough to look at you. His cheeks were pink, and for the first time that night, you saw something wonder bloom behind the disappointment in his eyes.

You leaned in again, your lips brushing over his—soft first. It deepened the moment he kissed you back. It wasn’t desperate, not yet. 

Just… vulnerable. 

It was as if everything unsaid between you was being poured into it, every little bit of doubt and love and hunger bleeding through.

His hands found your hips, fingers flexing like he couldn’t believe you were real. You felt him, too—not just the muscle, but the man who wanted, who needed to be seen, to be held, to be devoured.

“You drive me insane,” you whispered between kisses, your hands running up under his shirt, palming heat and muscle and that slight softness you loved more than you could say. 

He groaned low in his throat, and you felt it reverberate all the way down. 

You tugged his shirt up and over his head. You bit your lip as he fixed his posture, solid and built like sin.

God, you couldn't get enough of him. He had thighs thick enough to crush, arms big enough to cage you in. You ran your palms down his chest, over the swell of his sides, and kissed just above his waistband again.

“I want all of this,” you whispered. “Want to feel it. Fuckin’ climb it, baby.”

That did it.

He leaned forward before picking you up like you weighed nothing. You let out a gasp as he plopped you on the bed. His mouth was back on yours in an instant, kisses turning rougher and hungrier as his hands roamed  with that same desperate worship you gave him.

And when his thigh slid between yours, thick and commanding, you nearly whimpered.

“Bucky—” your voice broke on his name.

He pulled back just enough to growl, “You love this?” His thigh pressed harder, “Love how big and strong I am for you?”

You could barely think, could only nod, fingers tangled in his hair, body arching to meet his.

“Say it.”

“I love it,” you moaned. “I love the way you take up space. I want you to break me in half.”

His blue eyes darkened, his grip tightening just slightly. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

Then he kissed you again, and there was no more sound except for bodies moving like they were made to fit, made to ruin each other sweetly.

And when he finally, finally settled over you like the living embodiment of every gentle and savage thing you even loved—you whispered against his ear, “Don’t hold back.”

He didn’t.

—

You woke up to sunlight cutting through the curtains, the kind of light that felt too ethereal to feel real.

Bucky was already up.

He was standing, shirtless, hair still sleep-mussed, his sleep trousers hanging low on his hips, metal arm catching a glint of light as he rubbed at the back of his neck. You watched him from the bed for a minute.

He was staring at the mirror.

And not with that same bitter expression he usually did. This time… it was different. His brow was still furrowed, sure, but he looked… thoughtful. He looked like he was seeing something new.

Or maybe just seeing it the way you had all along.

There were faint bruises along his hips—your marks. Scratches across his back, red and already rapidly healing thanks to the serum, that they would be gone before the day. His skin was still flushed in places, the way it always got after you touched him like you meant it, like every inch of him was holy ground. 

You let the silence steep, just long enough to not startle him. “Staring at yourself like you’re in love, Barnes,” you finally mumbled sleepily from the pillows.

Bucky turned, but not ashamed. His eyes met yours across the room, and god—there it was. 

A smile.

“Maybe,” he said. His eyes dropped to his stomach, his chest, his body— painted in proof of your love last night. Then he looked at you, still tangled in the sheets, bare-legged, cheek creased from the pillow, looking at him like he was the answer to a prayer you hadn’t even known you wanted.

He shrugged, but it wasn’t dismissive. More like he didn’t know how to put it into words yet.

You sat up and let the sheet fall a little. His eyes flicked down and lingered, mouth parting, even after all this time.

“You didn’t seem to mind this body last night,” he said, quieter and teasing.

You gave him a look—are you serious?—then got up and walked across the room. You stood in front of him and slid your hands up the planes of his torso, over his stomach, then around to his back.

“Bucky,” you said, lips brushing his collarbone, “I wrote scripture out of this body last night.”

He laughed an open, sleepy-morning laugh, like you’d summoned it right out of his ribs. He ducked his head into your neck and held you for a second, arms around your waist.

When he pulled back, you kissed him once, then you glanced toward the mirror.

“Go ahead,” you whispered, brushing your fingers over his stomach. “Smile at yourself again.”

He did.

And he didn’t look away.

-end.

Extra Notes : This was really special to write, especially with so many fics like this going around! I used to have an unhealthy obsession with working out purely for aesthetics, but a few years ago, after moving out of my home country, I started reconnecting with my culture’s food. Cooking and eating became a way to feel close to home, so my body changed! I also shifted toward weight training and functional exercise, and while I’m definitely more muscular than lean now, it took me a while to realise this version of me is so much healthier than when I was stuck in an obsessive calorie deficit. Remember, bodies change, and I find our inherent ability to be look so different and still be worthy of love wonderful!

General Bucky taglist:

@hotlinepanda @snflwr-vol6 @ruexj283 @2honeybees @read-just-cant

 @shanksstrawhat @mystictf @globetrotter28 @thebuckybarnesvault@average-vibe

@winchestert101 @mystictf @globetrotter28 @shanksstrawhat @scariusaquarius

@reckless007 @hextech-bros @daydreamgoddess14 @96jnie @pono-pura-vida

@buckyslove1917 @notsostrangerthing @flow33didontsmoke @qvynrand @blackbirdwitch22

@torntaltos @seventeen-x @ren-ni @iilsenewman @slayerofthevampire

@hiphip-horray @jbbucketlist @melotyy @ethereal-witch24 @samfunko

@lilteef @hi172826 @pklol @average-vibe @shanksstrawhat

@shower-me-with-roses @athenabarnes @scarwidow @thriving-n-jiving @dilfsaresohot

@helloxgoodbi @undf-stuff @sapphirebarnes @hzdhrtss @softhornymess

@samfunko @wh1sp @anonymousreader4d7 @mathcat345 @escapefromrealitylol

@imjusthere1161 @sleepysongbirdsings @fuckybarnes @yn-stories-are-my-life

@cjand10 @nerdreader @am-3-thyst

@goldengubs @maryevm @helen-2003 @maryssong23

@yesshewrites1 @thewiselionessss @sangsterizada @jaderabbitt

@hopeofwinter @nevereclipse @tellybearryyyy

Small Circles

Summary : Bucky Barnes is still getting used to modern dating… and hates that you have to work with your exes.

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x vigilante!reader (she/her)  / ex!various MCU anti-heroes/vigilantes x ex!reader

Warnings/tags : jealous!Bucky. Bi!Reader Hurt/comfort. Injury, references to violence, sex references. Reader used to be an anti-hero, and also used to date a lot of anti heroes. Angst/Fluff!!!!

Word count : 7.7k

Note : Retroactive jealousy is very common, and I definitely struggled with it when I first started dating my partner. I don’t really see it solved healthily in fiction, so I thought I’d write about it. I just finished moving in, so I will resume my series writing soon! And please, if you’d like to be on the taglist, message me! It gets lost in the comments sometimes. Enjoy!

Bucky Barnes didn’t talk about his exes.

For one, they were from a time when women wore red lipstick like armour and wrote love letters to the men who might not make it back home. Two, in the 1940s, talking about past relationships was basically the equivalent to hanging your dirty laundry out in the street— and not just because most of them ended with him shipping out to war. Sex and feelings simply didn’t belong in polite company.

But here he was, in the 21st century, trying to navigate dating after missing eight decades of social evolution— trying to keep up with you. 

And god, he hadn’t stood a chance from the moment you first met.

You were the first person he met post-pardon that didn’t look at him like the sum of his past. Sam introduced you at a bar in D.C.—nothing fancy, just three tired veterans nursing drinks and pretending the world wasn’t still spinning out of control.

“She’s an old friend,” Sam said. “Used to serve with me in the air force. Then she went off grid and disappeared to be an antihero—”

“Vigilante,” you corrected, scoffing.

“Whatever,” Sam rolled his eyes, “But she’s retired now.”

“You’re prettier than the photos.” You gave Bucky a once-over. “Grumpier, too.”

He blinked, thrown off by how casual you were, and before he could respond, you leaned in and asked, “You always look like someone stole your puppy, or is that just for special occasions?”

Sam just laughed and walked off to grab another round, leaving Bucky staring at the woman who didn’t flinch when he said “Winter Soldier” like it was some contagious disease.

Instead, you talked and talked through the night. At one point, he was talking about his brainwashing, and you just leaned your elbow on the bar, eyes on his metal hand, and said, “I’ve done worse.”

It was the first time someone didn’t try to talk him out of his guilt. You didn’t say he was “more than his past.” 

You didn’t try to fix him. 

You just looked at him and recognised the survivor with blood under his nails and scars that never faded.

That night, he walked you home. It was supposed to be a formality, but you talked the whole way, about the desert missions you and Sam survived, about the ops you ran without orders, about why you quit the military, and the blurry line between heroes and people who did what had to be done.

“Why’d you retire?” he asked at your door.

“After the Blip, I helped the Avengers out. Did some good. Got tired of seeing my hands stained red, even when it was for the right reasons.” You shrugged.  “Figured if I couldn’t die, I might as well live. Got a nice place. Set up offshore accounts. Now I make pancakes and talk to my plants.”

He smiled. 

“What about you, Barnes?” You asked, leaning against the doorframe. “You ever get tired of the life?”

Fuck, he hadn’t flirted in decades. He wasn't even sure if he still knew how anymore. 

But with you, it was easy. It was awkward at first, sure, but you laughed every time he stumbled, and you never once made him feel like he was too broken to try.

He brought you flowers a week later. 

Tulips. 

He had said he read somewhere that they meant forgiveness. You didn’t ask who he was forgiving.

“I’m not afraid of your past,” you told him one night, sitting on the floor of your living room after Sam convinced him to take you out on a date. “Not when I’ve got one that would make priests faint.”

He looked at you then, and the walls he’d spent so many years building fell all at once, because you weren’t someone he had to hide from. 

You weren’t afraid of the blood on his hands, because you’d seen it on your own.

So you became a couple. 

Three years later, he still couldn’t believe how easily you loved him.

You were loud where he was quiet, open here he was closed— a perfect balance. 

You called his name like it wasn’t borrowed from another lifetime. And for the first time, he wasn’t just surviving— he was healing. 

He was planning a future. 

With you.

And then… Sam had to drag you back into the field.

That’s when everything started to unravel.

See, Sam had said it would be one mission.

"Just a quick assist," he told you, sliding a file across the table while Bucky sat beside you, arms crossed and already suspicious. "No big commitment. We just need someone who knows how to hit hard and get out clean. I know what you’re capable of,” Sam leaned back and crossed his arms, “And this has your style written all over it.”

“This isn’t just a mission,” You raised an eyebrow, flipping through the folder and studying the requirements. “This is a clusterfuck.”

“That’s why we need you,” Sam fogged. “Come on, for old times’ sake.”

You said yes. 

Later that night, Bucky looked at you like Sam had handed you a grenade. “You’re retired.”

You smiled sadly. “It’s just one job, Buck.”

And at the time, you meant it. 

You really did. 

You had an house together, the pancakes and the plants. 

You had Bucky. 

You had a life.

But then you got out there again—suited up, boots in the dirt, heart pounding like it used to—and it was like a switch was flipped in you.

Adrenaline was one hell of a drug.

You weren’t craving chaos or the violence. Not anymore. 

Unlike your antihero days, you didn’t kill this time. You’d made that choice before stepping onto the field. You weren’t going to be the person who solved problems with blood anymore.

But the mission lit something inside you all the same.

Perhaps it was control. Perhaps it was purpose. Or clarity. 

The world didn’t make much sense most of the time, but in the field, you knew exactly who you were.

So when you came back home after that mission—Bucky could already see it in your eyes.

“You’re going back,” he said flatly, watching you drop your gear in the hallway.

You shrugged, breathless, hair stuck to your forehead. “I mean… yeah. I missed it. But I’m not that person anymore, Buck. No killing. Just in and out. Recon only. You know the drill.”

Bucky didn’t answer. 

Because part of him was proud. You’d stepped back into that world on your terms.

But another part of him… was afraid of who you were behind the mask.

—

The first sign was Matt Murdock.

It was your and Bucky’s first mission together since you’d unretired. Sam had assigned a simple intel grab in Hell’s Kitchen. You needed a legal inside man, someone who knew the network by heart, and Sam had said, “You still got a contact in New York, right?”

That’s how you and Bucky ended up across the table from Matt in his firm, the three of you tucked into a room that smelled like paper and secrets.

From the moment you walked in, there was chemistry— it wasn’t active, nor was it inappropriate, but it was present. 

Bucky could see it in the way Matt tilted his head to the sound of your laugh, how your posture relaxed like muscle memory. It was subtle, but it was there.

“You told him,” he said with a small smile. He could hear it in Bucky’s heartbeat. “About my… other job.”

You glanced at Bucky, who was stiff beside you. “Yeah,” you said. 

Matt hummed. That told him more than it should. “You must be serious about him, then.”

You just nodded, infuriatingly calm and confident. “I am.”

Bucky didn’t say anything. He didn’t trust himself to, especially because Matt’s voice was too casual when he added, “We used to be a thing, her and I.”

It wasn’t a dig. It wasn’t even smug. But it was there. As far as Bucky was concerned, it was a punchline with no joke attached.

You shrugged as the meeting wrapped, grabbing your jacket. 

“His job and crime fighting? No time for me,” you whispered an explanation on your way out. 

But it was the way you said it— the lack of apology. It was the way you weren’t surprised your old flame was part of the mission. 

“You never told me he was your ex,” Bucky mumbled under his breath. 

“We never had to meet any of my exes in retirement,” you shrugged.

That night, Bucky lay awake in your bed, staring at the ceiling while your body curled toward his. 

But all he could think about was Matt fucking Murdock—Daredevil. Lawyer by day, masked vigilante by night. Another man who had kissed you, fought beside you, known you in a world Bucky still wasn’t sure he fully belonged in.

What the hell.

This was the first time you’d fought side by side. The first time he saw how natural you were when the mask slipped back on. And suddenly, Bucky was wondering if he was the only one still trying to catch up.

—

The conversation about Yelena came over coffee. 

It was one of those late mornings, with sunlight spilling through the window of your kitchen, his metal fingers on your knee. You were sitting close, like always, thighs touching under the table, his hoodie drowning your body in a sense of safety. 

Bucky was scrolling through contacts Sam had floated for upcoming intel work, casually tossing out names. “Yelena Belova might be a good person to reach out to for our next mission. She’s low-profile, knows how to stay off the radar.”

He didn’t even look up when he said it, but you froze, coffee cup hovering in the air, just long enough for him to notice.

“Well… yeah. I haven’t seen her since…”

His head tilted slightly. “Since what?”

He tried to keep his voice neutral. But it came out just a little too sharp, like it scraped on the way out.

You hesitated, a little sheepish. “Since Paris. There was a caper. Messy one. We got out clean, but… one thing led to another.”

Oh.

He knew you were bi, so that wasn’t a surprise. But he never expected that knowledge to ever come with knowing names, too. 

Another sip of coffee wouldn’t fix the knot in Bucky’s stomach, but he took one anyway. It gave him something to do besides look at you—at the woman he’d fallen in love with, who kissed him in the dark and said “I love you” every night.

He nodded pretending it was fine. Pretending it didn’t sting.

But it did. Because it was another name from the same small, bloodstained circle of vigilantes and morally gray heroes. 

He didn’t realise how many people you’d still work with were the same people you’d trusted with your body before you ever handed Bucky your heart.

You were experienced. Not in a shameful way, but you'd lived. You’d fought and fucked and fled and loved in all the places Bucky had never dared go. And now you were here—his—but he couldn’t stop that stupid thought in the back of his head:

Where do I even fit in the story?

You reached for his hand, your thumb brushing the metal knuckles like it was second nature. You leaned in, pressing a kiss to his temple, voice soft.

“She didn’t mean anything long-term,” you reassured him.

He wanted to believe that settled it. He wanted to lean into you, like he always did, but he froze—just for a moment. It was a childish, stupid insecurity rearing up where your warmth used to melt it down.

And Bucky hated that, even now, three years deep in love with you, he still sometimes felt like the last one to the party.

—

Then came London, and of course, Moon Knight.

It was supposed to be a clean extraction—intel swap, quick in and out. You and Bucky were working in sync like you'd done this a few times now. 

There were no hiccups, until he showed up.

You spotted him across the plaza first— casual clothes that you knew could turn into a divine suit any second, and a woman at his side. You froze instinctively, and Bucky felt it immediately.

The guy was weird in that charming, cryptic way, like he might shake your hand or break your nose, depending on what time of day it was. And you smiled at him. 

“London is always full of surprises,” you said as the man approached. You turned your attention to the two people now standing before you.

“Who am I talking to?” you asked, casual on the surface, but your eyes scanned him like they used to.

“Relax, it’s Marc.” The man gave a small, tired smile. “This is Layla.”

“Layla,” you repeated. “Nice to meet you.”

“We’re married,” Marc added.

“Good for you!” You beamed genuinely. “Seriously, never thought I’d see the day. This is my boyfriend. Bucky— Marc and I used to… date. A lifetime ago.”

Bucky gave a tight nod, hands in his pockets. “Of course you did,” he muttered under his breath.

Marc caught it. So did you. You shot Bucky a really? look, but Layla just laughed, clearly unfazed. She greeted you like she’d known about you already, because you were clearly another name Marc had mentioned.

“So… does he still talk to Khonshu in the bathroom?” you asked Layla with a crooked grin.

“All the time,” Layla said dryly. “Once, I came in to see the bathtub trashed. He said it was because of Khonshu. At least Tawaret isn’t that demanding.”

Bucky shifted uncomfortably. 

“Yeah, we weren’t all superheroes with government contracts,” Marc added, trying to joke, but there. “Some of us were just bleeding in alleyways hoping the gods were paying attention.”

Bucky wasn’t sure if that was a dig. He also wasn’t sure how to respond. Was there a polite way to talk to your girlfriend’s ex who serves a moon god and still too-casual wife who served the goddess of fertility?

You tried to smooth it over, looping your arm through Bucky’s. But he was still stuck on the fact that you had dated this man—this strange, fractured vigilante with too many voices and a ring on his finger now. You’d been part of his chaos once, too.

And that he hated that Layla was okay with it, hated that Layla was secure— because fuck, if it didn’t make him feel bad. That’s who he should be. 

He shouldn’t be bothered by any of this. But he couldn't help it, he was.

Bucky couldn’t help but feel like he was the only one trying to learn how to stand still while everyone else had already danced through the fire and survived.

He was old-fashioned. He didn’t know how to joke about weird missions with exes or that time you almost died in a tomb under the Nile.

You, on the other hand, just kept moving forward. 

And Bucky loved you—but in that moment, he felt like the odd one out in a room he hadn’t realised he was still learning to walk through.

—

Then Nebula arrived on earth, as she always did every couple of years. It was a routine visit.

She talked to Sam for a while to exchange intel, but after that… the lines between work and play got blurred.

Sam had dragged you and Bucky to a rooftop bar, insisting that even people with kill counts needed to let loose. Nebula was tagging along. She wasn’t the nightlife type, but she was making an effort to try Earth customs.

So, there you were, nursing a coke, while Bucky was ordering himself another drink. 

He was watching you across the room, laughing at something Sam had said when Nebula slid in next to you.

She said no greetings. No small talk. Just a hand on your thigh and a blunt, “Are we doing this again?”

Bucky could hear that, thanks to his enhanced hearing.

You choked slightly on your drink, startled but not shocked. You swatted her hand off gently, not unkind, but firm.

“I have a boyfriend now,” you said with a smile. You tipped your head toward Bucky’s direction. “Long-term.”

She blinked, entirely unaffected. “What’s that like?”

Bucky was across the room, eyes fixed on you. His knuckles were white around his glass.

Later, when you were alone again, Bucky asked, “You…  and her?”

You curled up beside him on the couch, his vibranium arm slung heavy over your shoulders. You kissed his jaw once, then the corner of his mouth. “It was during the Blip, when she went to Earth a lot more,” you said casually, “Long-distance didn’t work. It… happened a couple times. Nothing serious.”

Bucky didn’t answer right away.

Nothing serious.

The words sat in his gut like a stone.

That was what got him. Not that it happened. Not that you’d been with someone else. He knew—internally, logically—that he wasn’t your first. But that phrase stuck like a splinter under his skin.

Nothing serious.

You said it so easily. That sharing a bed, even briefly, didn’t matter as long as it wasn’t long-term.

But Bucky came from a different world. One where people didn’t talk about past lovers. Where something like a hand on a thigh meant you were hers.

And now here he was—three years in, in love with a woman who kissed him like he hung the moon and yet casually mentioned flings with alien assassins.

He didn’t say anything that night, but pulled you in closer and let you fall asleep on his chest.

But he stayed awake long after, staring at the ceiling.

You were his peace. 

But when it came to your past, he felt like a stranger in your house. 

—

That month after, you came home flushed with mission energy, shedding your jacket before the door had even shut.

“She’s still as annoying as ever,” you said, grinning. “Yelena. She hasn’t changed. Made me climb five flights of a condemned building instead of going around because it was ‘more fun.’ See, this is why it would have never worked out between us.”

You were buzzing— adrenaline and nostalgia glowing in you. Bucky didn’t match your energy.

He stood in the kitchen silently as he rinsed a mug. You didn’t notice at first. Or maybe you did, but you didn’t think anything of it until he set the mug down so hard, it cracked down the middle.

“You ever gonna tell me how many of these people you’ve actually slept with?”

You froze mid-step. “What?”

He turned, tense as a live wire. “Every time we go out in the field, you’ve got history with someone. Is there anyone we’ve worked with who hasn’t had a piece of you?”

Whoa. Where did this come from? 

“What the hell are you talking about?”

He didn’t back down. “I’m serious. Daredevil. Moon Knight. Nebula. Yelena. I can’t take two steps into a mission without watching someone look at you like they already know how you sound in bed.”

You blinked, stunned. “Is that what this is about? You’re jealous?”

“I’m not jealous,” he snapped. “I’m—”

“You are,” you cut in. “And possessive, apparently.”

He didn’t deny it. “I just— I can’t keep pretending like this doesn’t eat at me. I walk into a room with you and wonder who the hell knows you better than I do.”

You stared at him, chest rising and falling. “You never told me this bothered you.”

“Well, I didn’t know half this shit until the last few months!” he barked. “Because you’re so damn casual about it. ‘Oh yeah, we hooked up a few times,’ like it’s a joke—like it doesn’t mean anything.”

“Because it didn’t, Bucky!” you shouted back. “Because none of them were you. None of them lasted. You’re the only one I gave three years of my life to, and you’re standing here acting like I cheated on you with my past.”

He didn’t respond. 

And something inside you broke a little.

“I don’t know what you want me to do,” you said, smaller now. “Erase it? Lie? Pretend I lived like a nun until you came along?”

“I want to not feel like I’m sharing you with half the damn underground,” he looked down, teeth grinding.

You let out a bitter laugh. “Then maybe you should’ve picked someone from your own century.”

That landed like a slap. 

You shook your head. “We’ve got an early mission tomorrow. Get some rest.”

Without waiting for another word, you grabbed a pillow from the couch and walked down the hall.

You slept in the second bedroom that night.

You didn’t cry. But god, it hurt.

And Bucky sat awake in the kitchen for hours, guilt and resentment twisted in his chest like barbed wire, because he knew none of what he said was fair. 

But the feelings he felt were still real. And they were starting to rot.

—

In the morning, you two were so quiet still that every small sound felt amplified: the click of your knife sliding into your boot, the zip of your jacket, the dull thud of your holster being strapped across your chest.

Your movements were efficient, muscle memory from years of knowing how to armour up always kicking in.

Across the room, Bucky stood still, with his gear slung half-forgotten over his metal arm. His eyes were rimmed with red, dark bruises blooming underneath from a night without sleep, but he had a job to do, so he was awake anyway. 

“Y’know…” He finally said. “You didn’t have to sleep in the other room.”

You fastened the last strap on your thigh holster and glanced at him. “Didn’t feel like pretending we were okay.”

You saw it—the slight flinch in his muscles, the way he looked down like the floor might offer a better answer than anything in his own damn head.

“You think I don’t know we’re not okay?” he said, quieter this time. “You think I didn’t lay awake wishing I could take it back?”

“Then why’d you say it?” you snapped, finally turning to face him. 

Bucky’s mouth opened, then closed it immediately. He had no excuses.

“You didn’t ask. You never asked.” You shook your head, biting down the lump in your throat. “You just… threw it in my face like it was supposed to shame me. Like I was a toy being passed around!”

He stepped forward, desperate now. “I wasn’t trying to shame you, I— I was pissed, okay? I was stupid. I saw the way Matt looked at you, and then Nebula, and—Christ—Marc—”

“They were my exes, Bucky!” You raised your voice, “what do you want me to do? Never speak to them again? I would have no help in this line of work!”

“Doesn’t matter!” he snapped, frustration boiling over. “BecauseI feel like I’m just the guy keeping your seat warm.”

You stared at him, throat tight. “That’s what you think I’m doing? Killing time?”

“No,” he said, gentler now. “No. I know you love me. I know.” His voice cracked. “But I come from a time where no one talks about this kind of stuff. Where men didn’t have to wonder how many people their girl used to patch up in back alleys and kiss between fights.”

“Well guess what, Bucky,” you said, voice trembling. “I didn’t get the luxury of going to swing bars and holding hands on Coney Island. I got blood and war and figuring out how to survive without falling apart. I didn’t know I was going to make it past 25. And then you came along. You—you, James—you made me realise some things last. And now you're throwing it in my face because what? You didn’t like the guest list to my past?”

He looked like you’d shot him.

But there wasn’t time to let the silence fester again—your comms buzzed with an urgent ping from Sam.

The mission. 

You turned toward the door.

“Let’s just get through today,” you said, voice brittle. “We’ll figure the rest out after.”

You walked out first.

And this time, Bucky followed—not because he knew what to say, but because even after everything, he couldn’t stand not being by your side.

—

The op was supposed to be easy.

But nothing was easy when you were angry.

You and Bucky moved like soldiers, but not like partners—not like you usually did. 

You were out of sync, one heartbeat off, one glance too short. One command left unsaid because your pride wouldn’t let either of you speak first.

That got you ambushed.

Suddenly, you were ducking behind crumbling concrete, the walls of the building already groaning as a blast from beneath shook the foundations.

Gunfire rained down the stairwell.

Bucky shielded you without thinking, metal arm flashing as he tore through two men, fast and efficient—but not fast enough.

A stray bullet lodged  itself in you.

You screamed.

“Goddammit!” you hissed, hand pressing to your shoulder as blood spread fast. “Fucking—shit!”

Bucky was already beside you, crouched low, blue eyes wide and terrified. “You’re hit.”

“No shit, Sherlock.”

You leaned against the wall, blood soaking through your suit too fast, pooling in your glove as you applied pressure. Your vision blurred, but you forced yourself to stay upright. 

“We have to move,” you growled, pushing off the wall. “Extraction’s too far, comms are jammed.”

“Then tell me where to take you,” Bucky said, already moving to sling your arm over his shoulder. “You’re losing blood.”

You paused, teeth clenched so hard your jaw hurt. You did know someone in the vicinity. “You’re gonna hate this.”

“Tell me anyway.”

You guided him three blocks through the back alleys of the city, stumbling past broken windows, flickering lights, and blood left behind like breadcrumbs. You turned down a shadowed stairwell, and at the end of the corridor was a steel door. 

You raised your good hand and knocked: four slow, two fast.

A secret code. 

Bucky stiffened beside you. “You have a safehouse down here?”

“Not mine…” you mumbled under your breath. 

The door swung open, and there he was.

Frank Castle.

Bucky had heard about him— The Punisher.

He looked at you. Then at Bucky.

Then at your shoulder. “You’re bleeding.”

“I know,” you muttered through gritted teeth. “Let me in.”

Frank stepped aside immediately, grabbing you by the waist like it was second nature. Bucky’s hand was still on you. Neither man let go.

“Nice to see you, too,” Frank said with a worried frown.

Bucky followed, staring at Frank like he was a ghost come to life—except this ghost had callouses, bruises, and knew your name too well.

“You’ve got him on speed dial?” Bucky bit out.

You sank down on the battered couch as Frank pulled out a med kit and started cutting through your gear. “I said you’d hate it.”

Frank smirked without looking up. “Still dramatic, huh?”

“She’s bleeding,” Bucky growled, stepping in. “Maybe shut the fuck up and do something useful.”

“Relax, soldier.” Frank didn’t blink. “I’ve patched her up worse.”

Bucky's jaw twitched. "Worse?"

You groaned. “Please. Not now.”

But it was already too late— you could smell the testosterone and unfinished history. 

Frank’s hands were on you. Bucky’s heart was in his throat. He saw the way Frank looked at you— like he knew what your skin felt like already. 

“You two…” Bucky started, then stopped. His voice was dangerously low. “You fucked, didn’t you?”

Frank looked up. “We didn’t bake cookies.”

Bucky surged forward. “I swear to God—”

“Both of you!” you barked. “Enough!”

Frank didn’t flinch. He just scoffed under his breath and turned back to your shoulder, grabbing a syringe from the med kit and tearing open a pack of gauze with his teeth. 

“Didn’t realize you were dating the Winter Soldier,” Frank muttered, injecting the numbing agent into the skin around your wound. “Last time I saw you, you were with that blonde Widow chick. Got a thing for Russians now, pretty girl?”

Your eyes fluttered shut for a second. Pain, exhaustion, and frustration welled up inside. “Shut the fuck up, Frank.”

“I’m not Russian,” Bucky snapped before he could stop himself.

Frank glanced over his shoulder. “That’s not what I heard.”

Bucky stepped closer, chest heaving. “You want to test what I’ve got in common with the Red Room, Castle?”

“Easy,” Frank shook his head, “just sayin’. She always did have a type.”

That almost did it.

Bucky’s fists curled at his sides. His breath came faster. He saw red— and for a split second, he was ten seconds away from tearing Frank’s smug face off. 

But then… he heard your soft whimper. It was a hiss of pain. Your head tipped  back against the couch, eyes fluttering as the blood loss started to catch up. 

And suddenly, Bucky remembered why he was here. What really mattered.

You.

He was at your side in an instant, kneeling by the couch as Frank packed the wound and started stitching. You were grunting, your fingers twitching for something to hold.

Bucky took your hand.

You gripped him like he was the only thing tethering you to this world.

Frank worked without saying much after that. The tension between him and Bucky didn’t fade—it settled like a landmine they both agreed not to step on. For now.

“Got anything for the pain?” Bucky asked, looking toward the dingy kitchen.

Frank jerked his chin. “Cabinet over the fridge. Bottles labeled in red are painkillers. Other colors are mine.”

Bucky found what he needed. Got the pills into you with a cracked water bottle. He sat by your side while you slowly went limp under the weight of the drugs.

You passed out with your head in his hands. He brushed the hair from your face with a touch so gentle it made Frank’s heart ache.

—

An hour later, Bucky stood at the tiny sink in Frank’s dimly lit bathroom, water running red as he scrubbed blood from his hands. 

The cracked mirror above the sink showed him a version of himself he didn’t like: wild eyes, tired lines on his forehead, and blood smeared up to his wrists.

This was your blood.

He gritted his teeth, pressing his palms harder under the water like he could scrub away his sins, like he could rewind time just by cleaning fast enough.

You got shot because we weren’t focused. He thought to himself. Because I couldn’t shut my mouth. Because I couldn’t let go of the past. Because I just had to pick a fight.

He squeezed his eyes shut.

You had every right to have a past. You told him, over and over, that you chose him.

But it hadn’t been enough in the moment. 

And now…

Now you were unconscious on Frank Castle’s couch with stitches in your shoulder, and he was standing in a stranger’s bathroom washing away the evidence of his own failure.

He slammed the faucet off and leaned heavily on the sink, breathing hard. For a moment, he just stared at himself. The blood was gone, but the shame still clung to him like a second skin.

“Get a grip,” he said to his reflection.

He grabbed a towel and dried his hands.

Behind him, the door creaked open. He didn’t have to turn around to know it was Frank.

“You done crying in there, Barnes?”

Bucky met his own bloodshot eyes in the mirror and took a deep breath. When he stepped back out, Frank was already cracking open two beers— one slid across the counter toward him like a peace offering.

“Don’t drink on missions,” Bucky said, even though alcohol didn’t give him anything to work with. 

“We’re not on a mission anymore.” Frank shrugged.  “You’re in my house. She’s breathing. “Take the fuckin’ beer.”

Bucky hesitated, but still sat down.

He cracked it open and drank in silence.

Frank leaned back, arms crossed, smiling like he’d already written this whole scene in his head.

“So,” Frank said. “How’s that working out for you?”

Bucky shot him a sideways glare. “You mean her?”

Frank raised an eyebrow. “No, I meant your bloodstained fashion choices. Yeah, I mean her.”

Bucky drank again. “Fine.”

“That right?” Frank said, not buying it for a second. “Cuz she showed up bleeding out on my doorstep and you looked two seconds from throwing me through a wall.”

Bucky’s jaw tensed. “You didn’t exactly help.”

Frank’s grin widened. “What, calling you soldier? That’s what you are, ain’t it?”

Bucky didn’t answer. 

Both of them drank.

The air between them stayed hot, but not explosive. 

Frank looked toward the back room, where you were still out cold. The lines of his mouth softened slightly, the smirk dying in the corner of his mouth.

“She still talk in her sleep?”

Bucky glanced at him. “Sometimes.”

“Used to scare the shit out of me. She’d mumble names. Codes. Orders. She’d say something about Wilson or about how Riley’s in danger. Good ol’ air force PTSD,” Frank nodded, “One time she said my name and thrashed so hard I thought she was gonna kill me in her sleep.”

Bucky didn’t respond.

“She doesn’t talk.. about you,” Bucky said finally. His voice was low, eyes locked on the floor. “I didn’t even know you two…”

Frank shook his head. “Didn’t bake cookies,” he echoed.

“Yeah. Got it.”

They let another beat of silence fester.

“You loved her?” Bucky asked, even though he didn’t really want to know the answer.

“I did,” Frank took a sip, but didn’t look at him. “Still do. Not the same way, though.”

Bucky’s hand tightened around the bottle. “What the hell does that mean?”

Frank finally looked at him. No sarcasm now, just tired honesty.

“I don’t know if she told you about my… past. But after all that happened to me, I didn’t think I was capable of it again. I was half dead. Barely human. And then she showed up and saw through all the bullshit. And she stayed.”

Bucky was listening. Processing.

“She taught me how to feel again. Real shit. Not just rage. Not just grief.” Frank rubbed the back of his neck, like the memory itched. “She used to tell me I wasn’t broken, just dented. I believed her.”

“So what happened?”

Frank leaned back, eyes on the cracked ceiling.

“She fed my flame and I fed her violence. I knew if she kept me around, she’d forget what peace felt like. So I ended it.”

That made Bucky’s stomach twist. He hated how much of that felt familiar. 

Frank glanced toward the couch where you were still curled in sleep, bandages soaked but holding. “She deserves better than that.”

“She deserves someone who doesn’t get jealous of her past,” Bucky muttered.

“You and me both,” Frank chuckled under his breath. “I used to hate that I shared an ex with Red,” Frank admitted. Bucky could just assume he was talking about Daredevil. “But it’s a small world. Small circle. Vigilantes fuck around. You think we go home to nice houses and clean sheets?”

Bucky said nothing. Because now, you did. 

“How long you two been together?” Frank asked, casual.

Bucky didn’t answer right away. Just watched the light shift across the floor as the old ceiling fan spun overhead. Then, finally, “Three years.”

Frank’s eyebrows lifted. “Three?”

He let out a low whistle and took a sip. “Well, I’ll be damned. That’s like… eight decades in vigilante time.”

Bucky didn’t smile, but nodded once.

“Congratulations,” Frank tilted his beer toward him in a mock toast. “Longest relationship I ever seen her in. Not that I was taking notes or anything, but…” He grinned. “I knew all the flings. None of ‘em made it past a year. Most of them burned out around month ten.”

Bucky shifted, fist clenched, but not as harsh as before. “I’ve met a few of them. Or… worked with ‘em.”

Frank chuckled. “Bet that’s fun.”

“Not really.”

Frank scoffed. “Y’know,” he said, “you don’t gotta worry about me. Or any of the rest of us.”

Bucky looked at him sideways. “Yeah?”

Frank nodded toward the living room, where you were sleeping under a threadbare blanket, one leg hanging off the side of the couch.

“She wouldn’t be here if she didn’t love you. Still a bit of a dick when she’s mad, but who isn’t? She chose you. That woman’s got trust issues deeper than the fuckin’ ocean, but she lets you near her when she’s bleeding?” He shook his head. “That’s something, man.”

Bucky’s hand curled loosely around the bottle. “Doesn’t stop the way it feels sometimes. Like I’m… following ghosts.”

Frank leaned against the counter, arms folded, studying him. “You’re not a ghost to her.”

“Feels like I am.”

“Then stop acting like one.”

That hit a little deeper than Bucky expected. He looked away.

“You’re not me,” Frank said finally. “And that’s a good thing.”

Bucky blinked. Looked up.

Frank gestured between them. “You know what I gave her? Rage. Like I said, we fed each other’s worst instincts.” He took a breath. “You give her something I couldn’t: Peace.”

Bucky scoffed, a bitter little noise. “Peace? You should see the way we’ve been acting lately?”

Frank shrugged. “Fights happen. Especially with her.” He smirked. “But she came here because she trusted you to carry her when she couldn’t stand. That’s what counts.”

Bucky  took a sip of the beer, but didn’t really taste it. He still felt the heat of the moment in his chest.

Frank tilted his bottle toward him again. “You love her?”

“More than anything.”

“Then hold on to that.” Frank’s voice was sincere. “Cause’ if two broken people can get their shit together and still choose each other every damn day, that’s more than most people get.”

They sat in silence for a while, before eventually, Frank raised his bottle one more time. “To the girl who survived all of us.”

Bucky hesitated—then tapped his bottle gently against Frank’s.

“To the girl who made us feel human again,” he said.

They drank.

In the back of the room, you shifted in your sleep, muttered something under your breath, then went still again.

Frank leaned back. “Think she’s gonna be pissed when she finds out we bonded?”

Bucky found himself a smile— just a little. “Probably.”

—

The pain was dull when you woke up—  more like a memory than a wound, pulsing behind your bones in sync with your heartbeat. Your shoulder throbbed under tight bandages.

You cracked your eyes open, vision swimming in the dim light. The ceiling was warped and water-stained, familiar in the worst way, lit only by the flicker of a busted lamp somewhere in the room. The air smelled like old cigarette smoke, sweat, and gun oil.

You remembered where you were. Frank Castle’s safehouse.

You felt a body pressing against your side. 

Bucky.

He was crouched beside the couch, looking like he’d been glued to your side for hours— maybe longer. His hair was a mess, flattened in places from where he’d run his hands through it on repeat. 

“Hey,” he greeted, rough around the edges but laced with so much affection it you felt it more than you felt the wound. He leaned in and kissed your forehead, “You okay?”

Your lips twitched into a ghost of a smile. You tilted your head just enough to brush your mouth against his in return, your voice barely above a whisper. “Mmhmm.”

Behind you, someone cleared their throat.

You glanced past Bucky, and there was Frank— arms crossed, watching the two of you with a look that wasn’t quite judgment and wasn’t quite amusement either. 

It looked like... approval.

Bucky glanced over his shoulder, but shifted closer to you anyways. His hand brushed your hair back with the softest care, like you were the only thing in the world that mattered.

“We gotta go, yeah, doll?” he said. “Whenever you’re ready.”

You winced as you shifted upright, his hand already sliding under your good arm. You leaned into him without hesitation. 

“Yeah,” you exhaled, trying to shake the fog from your head. “Just... give me a sec.”

You rested your forehead against his shoulder for a moment, letting the world settle, then pushed yourself upright again. 

“Thanks, Frank,” you managed, voice rough but sincere. “For the whole... keeping me alive thing.”

His mouth curved upward at the corner. “Anytime, pretty girl.”

The words had barely left his mouth before Bucky’s voice cut through the room— “Don’t call her that.”

But.. there was a hint of playfulness in his voice.

Frank’s brow ticked up, amised. “Relax, soldier. It’s a nickname, not a ring.”

“She’s not yours to nickname.”

You let out a low groan, rubbing your hand over your face. “Jesus Christ. I almost died and you two are busy measuring dicks?”

Frank huffed a small laugh. “Still got that attitude, I see.”

Bucky glanced down at you, brushing your knuckles lightly with his thumb. “Good. Means you’re still alive.”

Frank pushed off the doorway, “She’ll outlive both of us at this rate.”

Bucky’s lips twitched, his hand never leaving yours. “That’s the plan.”

You leaned against him, blinking up at the two men, brow furrowing as the realisation finally hit. 

These weren’t snide remarks. This was… banter. 

They weren’t trying to kill each other.

“What the hell…” you mumbled. “You two friends now?”

Bucky looked down at you, shrugging. “Had a long night.”

Frank smirked from across the room, raising an eyebrow. “And a few beers.”

You stared between them, utterly baffled. “The fuck did I miss?”

—

The drive back was a quiet haze of streetlights. You slumped in the passenger seat, curled toward the window, your shoulder still aching beneath layers of gauze. 

When he pulled up to your shared home, Bucky came around to your side before you could even try to open the door. He lifted you again like you weighed nothing and carried you into the apartment without saying a word.

He laid you gently on the couch, brushing the hair from your face as you settled back into the cushions. His fingers lingered on your cheek, “I’ll get your painkillers,” he said.

You let your eyes follow him as he crossed to the kitchen, retrieved a glass of water, and returned with a small pill in his palm.

“Small dose,” he warned, crouching beside you again. “We’re spacing them out.”

You took it, swallowed, then leaned your head back and sighed. You tilted your head toward him.

“So… you and Frank buddies now?”

Bucky snorted softly, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

“But you talked.”

“Yeah,” He confirmed. “We talked.”

You raised a brow, mildly impressed. “And you didn’t smash each other’s face in?”

Bucky chuckled. “Came close.”

You let a beat of silence pass between you. 

Then you finally said, “I’m sorry.”

His eyes flicked back to you. 

“I should’ve seen how uncomfortable you were,” you admitted. “I… I just didn't think the exes would be a sore spot.”

“I’m sorry, too.” He reached up, brushing his thumb over your knuckles. “I let all that shit build up. That’s not on you.”

“Still… I could’ve talked to you about all of it before I got back into the field.” You swallowed. “I… I just didn’t want you to see me differently.”

“I do see you differently,” he said quietly.

Your stomach twisted.

“But not in a bad way,” he added quickly. “Your past… is just that. Frank helped me see that.”

You blinked fast, trying not to cry. “But it keeps finding me.”

“I know,” he said. 

You gave him a sad smile and a kiss on the corner of his mouth. “I’m not going anywhere, Bucky. You’re my now. You’re my future. You're it.”

His breath caught, and he looked at you like you’d just pulled him out of the deepest part of the ocean.

He leaned in and kissed you, slow and soft and sweet. It was the kind of kiss that tasted like forgiveness, because he was still learning what it meant to be loved out loud by someone so unfiltered, by someone with nothing to hide.

You stayed pressed againsthim for a long time, your hand in his hair, his forehead against yours.

Eventually, he pulled back and smiled faintly. 

He stood, walking toward the kitchen. “I’m making you hot chocolate.”

You blinked after him. “Are you serious?”

“You want marshmallows?”

“Obviously.”

He got up, and from the kitchen, you could hear Bucky moving around — the clink of the saucepan on the stove, the rustle of a cocoa tin being opened, the faint hiss of milk heating as he stirred. 

You sank deeper into the couch, letting the ache in your shoulder fade into the background.

Your eyes drifted half-shut, but then you heard it.

A ding from beside you on the couch.

You blinked, turning your head slightly, and there it was — Bucky’s phone lighting up on the cushion, his name glowing on the lock screen along with the preview of a new text.

Frank Castle.

Of course it was Frank.

Curiosity got the better of you, and your eyes skimmed the message: "If you wanna give your pretty girl a break and need someone who doesn’t pull his punches on a mission, give me a call, Barnes. And I’ll be there."

You smiled — part fond, part exasperated — and the warmth in your chest didn’t dim.

Before you could say anything, Bucky’s voice floated over from the kitchen, teasing, “You looking at my phone, doll?”

You glanced toward him, two mugs cradled in his hands as he walked towards you.

“Didn’t know you and Frank exchanged numbers,” You lifted your brows. “He says he’s offering his services.”

Bucky lowered himself onto the couch beside you, placing the mug carefully into your hand.

Bucky let out a quiet snort, shaking his head as he picked up the phone and read it for himself. His thumb hovered over the reply button, but he didn’t type anything right away.

“At least,” he muttered under his breath, “he’s now calling you my pretty girl.”

You leaned your head toward him, letting it rest against his shoulder.

“Damn right I am,” you mumbled fondly.

Damn right you are. 

–end.

General Bucky taglist:

@hotlinepanda @snflwr-vol6 @ruexj283 @2honeybees @read-just-cant

 @shanksstrawhat @mystictf @globetrotter28 @thebuckybarnesvault@average-vibe

@winchestert101 @mystictf @globetrotter28 @shanksstrawhat @scariusaquarius

@reckless007 @hextech-bros @daydreamgoddess14 @96jnie @pono-pura-vida

@buckyslove1917 @notsostrangerthing @flow33didontsmoke @qvynrand @blackbirdwitch22

@torntaltos @seventeen-x @ren-ni @iilsenewman @slayerofthevampire

@hiphip-horray @jbbucketlist @melotyy @ethereal-witch24 @samfunko

@lilteef @hi172826 @pklol @average-vibe @shanksstrawhat

@shower-me-with-roses @athenabarnes @scarwidow @thriving-n-jiving @dilfsaresohot

@helloxgoodbi @undf-stuff @sapphirebarnes @hzdhrtss @softhornymess

@samfunko @wh1sp @anonymousreader4d7 @mathcat345 @escapefromrealitylol

@imjusthere1161 @sleepysongbirdsings @fuckybarnes @yn-stories-are-my-life

@cjand10 @nerdreader @am-3-thyst

@goldengubs @maryevm @helen-2003 @maryssong23

This is your boyfriend, Mom? | Beefy!Bucky Barnes x f!reader.

Pairings: Beefy Bucky Barnes x Single Mom reader. Themes: Bucky getting absolutely roasted by a six and half year old baby boy. Summary: Bucky comes over and meets your very protective son for the very first time. A/N: I'm in a phase where I like Bucky interacting with kids. . .🥲

The doorbell chimes, and you pull open the door, coming face to face with a broad-shouldered figure that fills the entire doorway. Bucky’s piercing blue eyes twinkle with humor, but there’s a hint of uncertainty in his posture, as if he’s unsure whether to step inside or bolt.

“You’re here!” you exclaim with a warm smile, stepping aside to let him in.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Bucky murmurs, leaning in for a brief kiss before glancing around your living room nervously. “So, where’s the little guy?”

A shuffle of small feet behind you catches your attention. You turn to see your son peeking out from behind the couch, his eyes narrowing suspiciously as he sizes up the man who just entered his territory.

“There he is!” You wave your hand toward your son encouragingly. “Come say hi.”

Your son doesn’t budge, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring at Bucky like a miniature security guard. “So, this is your boyfriend?”

You can hear the disdain dripping from each word, and Bucky’s lips twitch into an amused smile. “I guess I am.”

“Mom,” your son deadpans, his eyes never leaving Bucky’s. “This is what you’ve been hyping up? He looks like he just rolled out of bed.”

“Hey, kid, I put in a lot of effort today.” Bucky gestures to his dark leather jacket, perfectly disheveled hair, and rugged stubble. “This is my ‘I’m totally put together but still approachable’ look.”

“Approachable?” your son snorts. “With that hair? You look like a drowned dog who’s been through a tornado and then zapped by lightning.”

Bucky blinks, surprised. He looks at you, then back at your son, and his mouth quirks up in a grin. “A drowned dog, huh? That’s original. So, what’s your excuse for your hair?”

Your son’s small hands shoot up defensively to his carefully combed locks. “My hair looks great, thank you very much. I didn’t put all this mousse in for you.”

You bite your lip, trying to suppress a laugh. “Be nice,” you whisper to your son, who rolls his eyes dramatically before turning his attention back to Bucky.

“Alright, old man—”

“Old?” Bucky interjects, eyebrows lifting. “I’m still in my prime, kid. What are you, five?”

“I’m six and a half.” Your son’s voice drips with indignation, as if Bucky has committed an unforgivable crime by getting his age wrong. “And you’re still old. You probably creak when you sit down.”

Bucky shakes his head, chuckling. “I don’t creak, but your mom might tell you I’ve got a few squeaky joints, yeah.”

“Ew, don’t—don’t tell me stuff like that.” Your son makes a gagging noise and then glares up at you. “Why is he even here, Mom? You know I’m supposed to have final say.”

“You have final say?” Bucky repeats, clearly intrigued. He shifts his weight, giving the boy a once-over. “What’s your name, anyway, kid?”

“Lucas.” He squares his shoulders, a defiant lift to his chin. “Got it memorized, old man?”

Bucky nods slowly, a glint of amusement in his gaze. “Lucas, huh? Alright, Lucas, I’ll try not to forget it.”

“You better not.” Lucas looks Bucky up and down, his brow furrowing in concentration. “Mom, this guy looks like one of those 90s action figures. You know, the kind where the legs don’t bend, and they’re so top-heavy they keep falling over.”

You snort loudly, unable to hold it in, and Bucky shoots you a betrayed look.

“Kid’s got a point,” you manage to say between laughs, and Bucky shakes his head, feigning exasperation.

“Oh, really?” Bucky folds his arms across his chest, staring down at Lucas. “Well, you look like a baby duck that wandered into a windstorm. All fluffed up and ready to pick a fight, huh?”

Lucas blinks, startled for a moment before narrowing his eyes, a grin forming on his face. “Better than looking like a grumpy cat that hasn’t had its coffee yet.”

You cough to hide your laughter, and Bucky raises an eyebrow. “Grumpy cat?”

“Yeah, with all those lines between your eyebrows.” Lucas steps closer, squinting as if he’s examining a rare species. “I bet you frown at the sun, too.”

You stifle a giggle, and Bucky sighs dramatically, placing his hands on his hips. “I’m starting to think you don’t like me, Lucas.”

“Starting?” Lucas tilts his head mockingly. “I’m basically giving you a head start, ‘cause if I really didn’t like you, you’d know.”

Bucky chuckles, glancing at you. “I like him. He’s got guts.”

“Yeah, well, don’t get too comfy, Gramps.” Lucas gestures to the couch with a flourish. “The only reason you’re even here is ‘cause Mom seems to think you’re ‘cute’ or whatever.”

“I am cute,” Bucky agrees seriously, causing Lucas’s mouth to drop open in disbelief.

“No. Way. You’ve got metal bits, and your beard is all scratchy, and—” Lucas cuts himself off, his gaze dropping to Bucky’s stomach. “And a jelly belly! Mom, did you know your boyfriend has a jelly belly?”

“What?” Bucky sputters, glancing down at himself with wide eyes. “I don’t have a jelly belly—Also this beard?” He strokes it like he’s pondering life’s great mysteries. “Your mom likes it.”

“Yes, you do!” Lucas insists, poking at Bucky’s midsection with a tiny finger. “Superheroes are supposed to be all muscle, but you’re hiding a squishy balloon in there.”

“Squishy balloon?” Bucky repeats, looking thoroughly betrayed as he turns to you.

“Lucas,” you chide gently, but your son’s eyes are wide and innocent. “Don’t be mean,” you add, fighting back laughter.

Bucky sighs and looks down at Lucas with a mock serious expression. “You know, I’m part super-soldier, part robot, and part… dad bod. It’s a package deal, kid.”

Lucas narrows his eyes, scrutinizing Bucky’s face. “I guess that makes you a little cooler, but you’re still a metal-armed grumpy pants.”

“Metal-armed grumpy pants?” Bucky echoes, eyebrows lifting. “Wow, we’re just racking up the nicknames today, huh?”

“Yup.” Lucas grins, then frowns again, cocking his head thoughtfully. “You’re also kinda like a… metal mop. All hair up top and a shiny stick arm.”

“A metal mop?” Bucky asks, his voice filled with mock offense as he raises his eyebrows. “You’re really on a roll.”

Lucas shrugs, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly. “I think it suits you.”

“Well, you’ve got guts, I’ll give you that,” Bucky says with a chuckle.

Lucas scowls, but there’s no real heat behind it. “You’re lucky, you know.”

“Oh?” Bucky leans down, hands on his knees to get on eye level with Lucas. “And why’s that?”

“‘Cause Mom likes you,” Lucas mutters, eyes flickering to you and back to Bucky, a hint of protectiveness in his tone. “But if you hurt her, I’ll tell everyone you still sleep with a nightlight.”

Bucky’s eyes widen in shock. “What? I don’t—”

“Yeah, okay,” Lucas interrupts, holding up a finger. “But I’ll tell everyone you do. Including all the Avengers.”

Bucky’s mouth opens, and then he shuts it, clearly struggling for a response. “You wouldn’t.”

Lucas just stares at him, completely unblinking. “You wanna test me, Mr. Metal Mop?”

Bucky glances at you, looking for support, but you just raise your hands innocently. “He’s tougher than he looks.”

After a long pause, Bucky leans down, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “Alright, kid, name your terms.”

Lucas pretends to think for a moment, tapping his chin. “You have to play video games with me… three times. No complaints. And no quitting when I beat you.”

Bucky looks horrified. “I—”

“Deal?” Lucas extends his tiny hand with a sly grin.

Bucky glances between you and Lucas, then sighs dramatically. “Deal.”

Lucas’s grin widens. “Oh, and one more thing—if I catch you throwing the controller in frustration, I’ll know you can’t handle losing.”

Bucky stares at him, completely lost for words.

“Just a fair warning.” Lucas pats Bucky’s arm as if he’s the one doing Bucky a favor. “Welcome to the family, Mr. Jelly Belly who’s gonna get his butt kicked at Mario Kart.”

You burst out laughing, and Bucky groans, running a hand down his face. “You’re really not gonna let this go, are you?”

“Nope.” Lucas shakes his head with a grin. “Better practice up, Grumpy Pants.”

“Practice? Against you?” Bucky scoffs, but the smile pulling at his lips betrays him. “Kid, I’m gonna wipe the floor with you.”

“Sure, Mr. Nightlight,” Lucas replies smoothly. “Sure.”

Bucky glances at you and then back at Lucas, a mischievous look in his eye. “You know, at this rate, you’re gonna start calling me Dad.”

Lucas pauses, then tilts his head with a confused look. “Why would I call you Dad?”

Bucky smirks. “Because you know I’ll beat you so bad at those video games, you’re gonna need a parental figure to console you.”

“Right, I can call you Dad,” Lucas’s eyes light up, and he leans in, voice dropping to a whisper. “Only if you pay me twenty bucks a week, Dad.”

Bucky’s jaw drops. “Twenty bucks?!”

“Yeah,” Lucas shrugs nonchalantly. “Think of it as a ‘dad fee.’ I’m expensive. Mom’s got good taste.”

Bucky looks at you, baffled. “Did he just—?”

“Oh, and I’ll need a ride to school every morning,” Lucas continues, holding up his fingers as he lists his demands. “And ice cream. Twice a week. But no toppings. I’m not greedy.”

Bucky bursts out laughing, shaking his head. “You really thought this through, huh?”

“Business is business,” Lucas says with a serious nod. “So, what’s it gonna be, Dad?”

Bucky blinks, then leans back and sighs dramatically. “Sorry, buddy, but I think I’ll just stick with Mr. Metal Mop.”

Lucas crosses his arms, a sly grin forming on his lips. “Your loss. Could’ve been Dad. Now you’re just gonna be the guy who cried during Shrek.”

Bucky’s shoulders slump as he glances at you, utterly defeated. “I’m doomed.”

“Yup,” you say with a grin. “But hey, at least you didn’t agree to the ‘dad fee.’”

“True,” Bucky mutters, then he turns back to Lucas, raising an eyebrow. “But for the record, I did not cry during Shrek.”

“Sure, Mr. Nightlight,” Lucas deadpans. “Sure.”

Timeless

The timeless love that Bucky had

I found it in a dusty shoe box today. 

The photograph. 

Folded corners, a little torn on the edges, and yellowed with age. Still, the image was clear enough to see your grin. boyish and crooked, the same one that made my heart skip in 1941. 

He was standing in front of the corner diner in Brooklyn, arm slung around me, your military uniform still crisp from training. my dress was too long, my hair and soft curls. You say I looked like the dames in the movies, though I never believed you. 

I sat on the floor of our apartment- our apartment, the one SHIELD helped me find after they confirmed you were alive and time folded and on itself. Because just like that, I was 19 again. Just like that, I could smell the leather of your bomber jacket and hear the way you'd say my name, like a prayer and a promise all wrapped in one. 

The war stole everything. You, Steve, entire lifetimes. 

I cried the day they said you'd fallen off the train. Not the soft, cinematic tears they show in films, but the ugly, just even kind -  the kind where grief grabs you by the throat and doesn't let go. For decades, you were a ghost I couldn't touch. A heartbeat I thought I imagined. The man I loved turned myth. 

But now you're back. 

Not the same, not entirely. There are cracks in you, deep ones, and shadows behind your eyes that weren't there before. Sometimes you flinch when I touch you. Sometimes you look at me like you are remembering, and other times like you wish you could forget. 

But then there are the other times. 

Like when we walk through Central Park and you still reach for my hand, like instinct. Or when you find old swing records and the antique shops and your face softens-  because you know that's our music. The Andrews sisters, Ella Fitzgerald, Glenn miller. You dance with me in the kitchen sometimes, when the memories aren't too loud. 

And in those moments, I know what we are. 

We’re timeless. 

We always were.  from the second I locked eyes at the USO dance and you offered me a Coca-Cola with that charming little smart. from the letters you sent me, ink smudged and pages worn, telling me you'd be home soon. From the nights I kept the porch light on, hoping. 

Even now, with silver in your hair and the world completely changed, I look at you and I know. You're always meant to come back to me. Somehow, some way. Even when time tried to erase us. 

And when we're old, if we're lucky enough to grow old, I hope someone finds that photo of us. I hope they ask about the girl with stars in her eyes and the soldier who came back from the dead. I hope they feel what I feel when I look at it: 

That this love, the story, was always something out of time.

Something not of this world. 

Something timeless. 

Last Kiss

Bucky Barnes leaves for war from her perspective.

I still remember the way the air felt that night. 

Heavy, like it knew. Like the sky itself was holding its breath. 

You didn’t say it, not really. You didn’t need to. I knew you were leaving. I knew this was the last night. And I knew the second  I saw you in that uniform, stiff, and crisp, and not you, that everything was about to change. 

You tried to act like it was fine. Like we had time. You smiled that crooked smile, the one that always made me forget how to breathe. And I laughed. I laughed at your dumb jokes, because if I didn’t, I’d cry. And I wanted- God, I wanted to be strong for you. 

We sat in our booth, like always. The waitress called you “soldier,” and you smiled at her, but I saw the flicker in your eyes, you were scared. I was too. 

When we left, you walked me home even though it was out of your way. You always did that. I think you liked pretending we lived in the same world, like you could stay in it just a little longer. 

We stood outside my building for a long time, neither of us saying anything. The city faded around us - cars, people, lights - they'll just.. disappeared. It's just you and me.

And then you kissed me. 

Slow. Careful. Like you were memorizing me. 

Like if you kissed me soft enough, maybe the war would forget your name. 

That was the last kiss. 

I didn't know what to say when you pulled away. I didn't want to cry, so I just nodded. I wanted to say "I love you,” but I didn't. I was afraid that if I did, you wouldn't leave -  and part of me was selfish enough to want that. But the rest of me knew... you’d never forgive yourself if you didn’t go. 

So I let you walk away. 

You didn’t look back. 

But I did. 

I watched you turn the corner, and I whispered it then, “I love you.” Quiet. Just for me. Maybe the wind carried it to you. Maybe not. 

You came back eventually after so many decades, but I’m no longer here. 

After so many years, I would lay awake sometimes thinking about that night. About that night. About that kiss. About the boy who held my hand like it was a lifeline and kissed me like he was already gone. 

I never kissed anyone the same after that. 

But with me now gone, I wish you could with someone new. 

Love Language - Bucky Barnes

Acts of Service

He’s not good at saying what he’s feeling but he will show you with the little things. 

He randomly fixes things around your house because he saw it was broken. 

“It was bothering you, wasn’t it?” 

He would get a head start on your morning routine for you, fixing her coffee, getting coat, and bag together. 

“Here, I didn’t want you running all around in the morning.” 

Does the chores that you forgot about the day before and doesn’t even mention it. 

When he’s not on missions, he will always cook you breakfast, no matter what. 

It doesn’t matter that he had no sleep from a mission he got back on, he will be in that kitchen flipping pancakes, scrambling eggs, making coffee, or whatever he makes. 

He always makes sure your flower vase is full, always replacing them before they die. 

If you fall asleep somewhere, he will pick you up and tuck you into bed. 

When he goes on morning runs, he takes your dog with him. 

He takes responsibility for taking care of your dog.

He's a gentleman to you.

He opens your doors, holds your bags, walks on the outside of the sidewalk.

Bucky x Witch Practitioner

Learns that she’s a love witch and learns what that includes. 

He doesn’t understand the things she needs sometimes. 

“What is licorice root and why do you need it?” 

“Why do you need my birth time again?” 

“What’s that crystal next to my side of the bed?” 

He notices that she takes her time with her makeup and hair because beauty magic is important to her. 

Her whole home smells like roses. 

She always has roses in her home. 

She makes him custom herbal teas. 

She makes him a sleep sachet to place under his pillow to help with his nightmares. 

She hides little sigils on him or in his gear for protection and safety on missions. 

After he comes back from missions, she will do bath rituals for him to relax. 

He always gets her roses and pretty flowers for her “pink altar” (love altar). 

He nieces that she spray Florida water in the sheets and blankets after waking up and then spray his side with lavender spray and hers with rose. 

She tells him the lavender or chamomile will help with keeping him calm and help with sleep. 

Crystals everywhere (especially rose quartz & clear quartz the most). 

He thinks it’s really cute that you do spell work for him. 

Bucky Barnes x Latina Woman

He just sits back and observes. He doesn’t question things, he just watches because even though he has never seen or heard what you're doing, he doesn’t want to make you feel weird for what’s normal for you. 

Secretly starts learning Spanish. 

When you get pissed you start cursing in Spanish, no one understands it but him. 

You yell out a curse word in Spanish at Steve for eating your last orange, which leaves Steve confused and scared but Bucky just starts laughing so hard. 

After that, you learn he learned Spanish fluently and start having conversations together in Spanish. 

It’s funny now because he now shit talks Sam in Spanish and no one understands but you. 

Starts gossiping in Spanish with each other. 

Loves eating the food she makes. 

His new comfort food is sopita de fideo, especially on cold days. 

He can kill a whole tray of tacos by himself. 

He thinks it’s funny when she calls everyone random nicknames in Spanish.  (Wanda - mamas, Sam - pendejo, Tony - menso, Thor - cabron, Loki - nopalito, Bruce - salsa verde, Clint - pajaro, Natasha - linda, Vision - tomate) 

Loves when you call him cute nicknames in Spanish. (“mi vida” is your go to)

*Gives a very Enthusiastic hug* Nothings ever to much to ask for, because everyone, I mean everyone, needs a hug sometimes. Needs someone to smile and say It's okay. It doesn't matter what you've done, who you are, how much money you have, how poor you are. Everybody needs a pick-me-up sometimes. Because there were times I have thought about ending it all, and someone had one singular conversation and no longer I thought about it, or wanted to. All because of one person. So never, never, say that a hug is to much to ask for.

I need a hug…. please.. I know it’s too much to ask for especially from me.

I am Writing a fanfiction

I have written a fanfiction on Quotev and I'm trying to decide if I post it here heres the link

How many times do I have to say this:

I LOVE BUCKY

Courting

Synopsis: Bucky is a man from a different time. It shows when you start ‘going steady’ and honestly, you love it. Alternatively; Bucky uses 40’s dating etiquette to woo you, and surprises you with a modern turn of phrase.

cw: it’s set in a vague timeline where it’s just before cabnw but also during fatws so no thunderbolts spoilers! Bucky is a FLIRT, reader is a little shy, anxiety representation, lots of casual getting to know you, going on a date flirting, Bucky’s serious about reader tho!

word count: 4.4k

Bucky Barnes prides himself on being able to court a woman. He really does. He knows all the rules, knows all the things to say, and it doesn’t hurt that he can flirt his way through any conversation.

You and Bucky met at the Smithsonian when Bucky was missing Steve a little too much and popped in just to get a glimpse of his best friend again.

You were by the Isaiah Bradley display, reading through before murmuring under your breath, “Those poor men.”

Bucky hadn’t meant to eavesdrop like that, but there was so much concern in your voice and he had to say something lest you think they all suffered — looking back, maybe he wasn’t the best person to break that news to you.

“We didn’t all suffer so bad.”

You had gasped when you noticed him, hand to your chest. “You’re Bucky Barnes,” you weigh your words before adding, “Steve’s best friend.”

That alone had won him over. You didn’t bring up the Winter Soldier, or that Bucky was as traumatised as super soldiers went. Just that he was Steve’s best friend.

“Yeah,” he nodded, “This your first time at the Smithsonian?”

You shake your head, a little heat flushing up your cheeks. “I come every couple of weeks, to see if they have any new stuff to add to your plaques. It’s kinda messed up what they did to all of you.”

Bucky smiles, shaking his head. It is messed up, he knows that. All the super soldiers besides John Walker know how messed up it was. “We came out alright, made it to the 21st century after all.”

You tilt your head to the side, “I guess that’s true.”

Bucky’s eyes light up. “Made it this far to meet pretty girls too.”

Your cheeks flame and Bucky chuckles, you chat a bit more before he gives you his number.

It takes you two days to text him. You’d been overthinking it, if you should or shouldn’t. In the end, if he ignored you at least you’d have tried.

It turns out Bucky didn’t give you his number just to be polite, because he answered your text immediately.

The first time he had used his courting experience was when he’d made it a point to establish the fact that he wanted to take you out every second Friday of the month.

He had it in his head that the effort had to be shown and then followed through the entire time and after two days, he was determined to show you that he was serious.

‘I’m free every other Friday, if that’s good with you doll.’

You had responded four minutes later after looking at your phone in shock and a little bit of bewilderment, when was the last time a man was so forward but not in a pushy way?

‘It’s perfect as long as work doesn’t bleed into my weekends’

From there Bucky had planned three of the dates meticulously, going over places and ideas in his head until he’d settled on the best three according to himself.

The first date was at a new diner near his apartment, one that Sam said did really good milkshakes and Bucky hadn’t been able to let the idea go.

“It’s nothing too fancy, but Sam said it’s a good spot.”

You’d worn a pretty skirt and blouse, and Bucky had worn a grey henley and jeans.

“You look gorgeous,” Bucky was full of compliments as you’d learn as the afternoon went on. He dished them out easily and most of the time you pretended not to hear him because he had a sort of pleased look on his face every time you stammered to keep the conversation going, and that in itself had in your stomach in knots.

He even brought you a bouquet of red tulips which had sat beside you on the sticky diner table all day.

“Oh they have milkshakes!” You say excitedly when you catch a server walking past.

Bucky’s heart sores. God bless the forties for making that a thing.

“Wanna try one?”

You look up at him, eyes brimming with hopefulness, “Will we do the cheesy sharing from the same cup?”

Bucky leans back in the booth seat, blue eyes boring into you. “And the same straw if you really want to, doll.”

He’s so fucking smooth, because you can’t do anything but nod now that his gaze is fixed on you.

Deciding what milkshake had taken nearly five minutes, back and forth between what was a classic flavor and why strawberry was definitely not good (Bucky was very offended) and then settling on a Shamrock Shake even though St. Patrick’s day had long passed.

Sharing the milkshake sitting across from each other was more intimate than you had expected it to be, (you hadn’t ended up using one straw but just the eye contact was enough to fluster you). Bucky walked you to your car after paying for dinner, very offended that you tried to pay half of the bill, and opened the door for you. When you had gotten in, he leant a little into your space, “Did you have a good time, doll?”

Your heart pounds. You had a great time, Bucky was easy to be around, even with your shyness.

“I did, thank you Bucky. Did you?”

He smiled, “Don’t see how I couldn’t with you as company.” In your sputtering for an answer Bucky’s heart beat a little faster, you were the cutest thing ever.

“Any opposition to a gala for our next date?”

You raise your eyebrows. “I’m not the biggest fan of crowds but I don’t see why it couldn’t be fun. Is it for the new Captain America thing?”

Bucky smiles, “I’ll text you the details. Drive safe, doll.”

The gala was fun even if a little anxiety inducing when you note the number of people there.

Bucky’s good though, he doesn’t give you a moment alone to feel that anxiety or have anyone come up to you to ask you a million questions.

It’s a veteran gala and Bucky didn’t want to go through that alone because he was getting another medal post Thanos; not that he really wanted it.

That night, as you sat beside him at one of the tables, it was hard to ignore the feel of his hand grasping your ankle and stroking it.

His palm is warm against your skin but you can feel the twitch in his fingers.

“We can leave early if you really don’t want to get it, Bucky.”

He turns to you with a smile, his cheeks a little warm when you meet his eyes. “No, I can handle it, doll.”

You tut, shaking your head. “Yeah but you look like you’re gonna pass out waiting for them to call your name.”

He rolls his eyes, “I do not.” He can actually feel the acid churning in his stomach.

In the end, the ‘medal’ is Bucky partially funding a veteran support group in honor of his friend Sam Wilson, who’s the new Captain America, and Steve Rogers. He much prefers that sort of medal.

It was only after Bucky had gotten you home from the gala that you noticed the slip of paper in your clutch.

It had the name of the diner you and Bucky had gone to a week and a half ago, but on the backside of the paper was his semi messy scrawl.

You looked gorgeous tonight. Purple’s definitely your colour, doll. I know it’s only the second date, but you’re all I think about most days. I wanna see you again, but I know tonight was a lot with all those people. Sleep well, doll. Dream of me if you’d like.

Yours,

James.

That had made you smile so hard your cheeks ached. He signed it with his actual name, not the cute nickname he got so many years ago, his real, government name and that was not something that went unnoticed by you.

Immediately you changed his name in your phone to James with a little heart next to it.

You’re not really sure you’re sold on Bucky’s affections towards you, till the third date when Bucky pulls up to your apartment with another bouquet of flowers, peonies this time in pretty pinks and soft yellows.

“Bucky, these are gorgeous!” You had rushed back into your house to add them to the vase with the other flowers he had dropped off for you on your doorstep last week.

You can hear him chuckling in your doorway as you flit about.

“Was there any traffic?” you asked over the sound of your tap filling the vase.

“Not too much, but it is lunchtime on a Saturday.”

You had mentioned to Bucky a little bit ago that there was a perfect spot in the park near your house for a picnic now that New York had finally warmed up, and the next text you had received was Bucky asking if you had any nut allergies.

It wasn’t your usual date day, but Bucky had pleaded and begged just a little (although he really hadn’t had to), and had even sent you a photo of the most gorgeous picnic blanket and you were agreeing faster than anything.

“I’m ready to go now.” Seeing Bucky there leaning in the archway of your kitchen makes you feel so many things that you can’t help it when you lean up and kiss just under his jaw before walking towards your door after snagging your picnic basket from on the counter.

“Coming, Bucky?”

He only shakes his head, some of his hair falling into his eyes as he follows behind you. You swear you hear him mutter, “Not a shy thing at all,” but you don’t say anything because your nerve has worn off and you actually can’t believe you really kissed his cheek.

Bucky hadn’t spared an expense on your picnic. He had gotten peaches, plums, two different cheeses, apples, grapes (black ones; your favourite) and even a bottle of sparkling wine.

You had brought sandwiches and salt and vinegar potato chips (those became Bucky’s new favourites), a sketchbook and your camera.

“Were picnics something you did a lot?” you ask Bucky as he makes you a plate - crackers, cheese, some of the fruit and half the sandwich you packets.

Bucky squints at you as he slices a wedge of the plum free from the stone. “If it was, would you be jealous, doll?”

You shake your head, some of the peach juice dribbling down your wrist. Bucky’s quick but gentle as he thumbs it away and presses his thumb to his lips. You’re so grateful that his hands aren’t on you to feel how fast your pulse hammers.

“I’m just curious what the dating customs of the 40’s looked like.” It’s a miracle your voice remains even.

Bucky nods like he doesn’t really believe you. “I think I went on one, but there was never really a good time for more.”

You wince, you had forgotten that he’d gotten drafted.

Your reaction makes Bucky laugh, “I’m glad I get to find out if I really like them now though. There’s a lot more to enjoy about picnics now without all the smog.”

His teeth snap through the wedge of the plum before he continues, “I can see my date better, which feels like an incredible plus.”

Damn Bucky’s flirting.

You spend all evening at the park, and it’s so fun because Bucky poses for some of your pictures and then takes some of you and when you pose for a few together and Bucky stares at you there’s a sort of stillness that overcomes you.

His eyes bore into yours, the blue of them stopping you where your finger is poised over the button to snap the photo.

“Take the photo doll,” he whispers, his lips hovering near yours as he reaches up and presses your finger down just before leaning all the way in, pressing your lips together.

Bucky’s quick to take the camera from your hand after, setting it on the blanket and cupping your cheek to deepen the kiss.

It’s not too long, but it’s more than a peck and when he pulls away you can barely open your eyes.

“Was that okay?” Bucky whispers, the hand still cupping your face warm where it rests.

“Where did you learn to kiss like that?” his laugh rocks you as you press your forehead into his shoulder. “I don’t think you were really frozen in ice all that time, James Barnes.”

Bucky cups the back of your head as his laughs die down. “Whatever you want to believe, honey.”

Bucky gets to your house just after sunset, and you let him walk you to your front door. You don’t really want the date to end, but you’re tired and you have to imagine so is he.

“I had a really nice evening, Bucky.”

He smiles, a hand on your lower back as he stands in front of you. “So did I,” you turn to open the door but he stops you.

“I’ve gotta go out of town for a little bit, so we’re gonna have to rain check next Friday’s date.”

You hold onto the sleeve of his Henley before he can step back, “Is everything alright?”

Bucky nods, “Yeah just some stuff I have to deal with.”

“Winter soldier stuff?” You nearly whisper the words, not wanting to upset Bucky. He only nods with a soft smile. “Be careful okay?”

“You don’t want to be my nurse if I get hurt, doll? That’s harsh.”

You laugh, shaking your head at him. “I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

Bucky’s chest aches at your care for him. It’s been a long while since he’s been given that kind of affection.

“I’ll be careful, doll.”

“Good.”

Bucky leans in and presses a kiss just at the corner of your mouth, “Goodnight doll, lock your doors.” He reminds you like you’re not a woman in New York City, but it still makes you smile and your chest goes a little gooey.

Bucky doesn’t move from your doorstep till he hears your locks click into place.

-

Bucky’s been gone for a week and a half already and you can’t help but miss him.

You’ve been chatting back and forth and you’ve even started sending him songs to listen to. He’s got a very limited list of favourites that you’ve made it your mission to resolve.

You find another note in your handbag when you decided against texting Bucky and cleaned your cupboards instead.

It was in your bag from the picnic date, and you smiled when you noticed his handwriting on another receipt from the grocery where he got the cheese.

I hope you find this when I’m gone and you’re missing me; I know you are, doll, it’s okay.

I miss you too and I haven’t left yet.

When I get back I’ll make it up to you, I swear. Maybe we’ll go somewhere quiet again? Or I saw they’re reopening one of those antique places with all those retro trinkets; I could show what I used to have at home. Show you what I prefer now.

Keep locking your doors, honey. I should send you new flowers, the old ones will be dead soon.

Yours,

James.

Bucky’s very good at these, these little notes that leave you smiling and giddy like a fool.

You pull out your phone, you have to text him now.

I got your note. What was your favourite ‘trinket’?

Bucky answers only three minutes later.

My sister used to have a silver jewellery box that I had the pleasure of filling every month.

You smile at that, he’s always been a provider it seems.

Another chime comes from your phone.

We also had a gramophone that played the clearest music I’ve ever heard.

You roll your eyes.

You’re such an old man.

I’m not offended, doll. A pretty girl I’m seeing told me recently I’m not old at all.

Even miles away he’s got you grinning like an idiot with a racing pulse.

You can’t say anything to that and your thoughts take you to what a perfect gentleman he’s been to you. Bucky opens your doors, drives you home and waits till you get into your house before driving off. You think you might be falling for him, and rapidly.

He’s still gone by Monday and you’re missing him hard, only for the girls you work with to giggle before coming to find you.

“These were dropped for you,” they hand you a huge bouquet of red and white tube roses and a card.

It’s not Bucky’s handwriting but it’s from him,

Sorry I’m still not back, doll. I should just be gone for another day. Don’t miss me too much, yeah? I need a few kisses when I get back to make up for all this time away. I listened to that song you recommended, it was good. How do I make a playlist?

Yours,

James.

The note had you blushing and extremely flustered. Your coworkers noticed it immediately.

“Are you two going steady?”

You regret telling them who you’d been going out with. When they leave, you’re stuck with the realisation of how different Bucky is to the men you’ve dated before.

It’s a small thing, but you hardly think any of them got you flowers as consistently as he does, and you don’t think you’ve ever received such thoughtful bouquets.

You called Bucky when you got home, happy to hear his voice.

“Thank you for the flowers, Bucky.”

“You’re welcome, doll.”

You have the bouquet from today on your bedside table and smile when you spot it after changing into your pajamas.

“You caused quite a scene when they got delivered.”

You can hear the amusement in his words. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, the girls I work with brought them to me. They were very impressed by the size of the bouquet, Barnes.”

“I’m just concerned about what you think of me.” Was his answer and after that you couldn’t get a full sentence out of you.

He’s so open with his feelings towards you it’s scary, it makes your heart race but you also know he’s not just saying it. He means it and that makes you fall just a little more for Bucky.

“You’re sweet.” Is all you can manage, your face heated with a blush.

“Sam and I are finishing this up tonight, so I should be able to see you when we get back.”

You don’t know if you’re reading into his words, but Bucky sounds relieved at the prospect of seeing you soon.

“Isn’t it going to be a day’s long flight?”

“And I can see you right after I land, honey. So long as it’s not midnight or while you’re gonna be sleeping.”

Bucky Barnes isn’t good for your heart with the way he just wholly shows you how much he wants to spend time with you.

“Do you still need help with your playlist?”

He huffs, “Sam showed me. He’s not a good teacher though, was snippy the whole time; you’d think he’d remember I was in ice.”

You laugh, “I’ll show you when you get back, babe.”

Bucky doesn’t say anything about the pet name, but for the rest of the phone call he doesn’t respond unless you use it.

It’s two days before he’s back and Bucky drives straight over to see you.

He’s at your door a few hours after you get home from work, and when you open the door to see him, he’s there with a single rose in his hand and a tired smile on his face.

“Is it possible you got prettier while I was gone?” He leans against your doorway.

“You look dead on your feet, Bucky. Come inside.” you lead him to your sofa, watching him move with heavy but careful steps all the way through your living room.

Bucky’s movements are measured, not a single action wasted as he takes off his boots and socks and detaches his metal arm.

“I really missed you,” he sighs as he lays on your sofa, eyes shut as he takes a long breath.

“I really missed you too,” you brush back some hair from his face. “You could’ve gone home to sleep first, you know?”

Bucky opens his eyes and it takes great effort to do so, the whites of his eyes shot through with streaks of intense red.

“I wanted to see you,” he yawns. “But you’ve trapped me into laying on your sofa.”

You laugh, your fingers still knotted in his hair. “You can take a nap Bucky, or you can sleep the night here. I’m not really excited by the idea of you driving back tired.”

“I won’t doll,” he shuts his eyes again, the feel of your fingers on his scalp lulling him into a peacefulness he’s missed. “Tell me what you got up to while I was gone. I know you weren’t just counting down the days till I got back.”

You roll your eyes as you recount the last two weeks of your life, Bucky’s not even awake to hear what you did on the second day of him being gone.

You cover him up with your throw blanket and dim the lights of your living room. You make the playlist for him while he sleeps, putting all the songs you’ve sent him on the memory stick so he can leave with it.

Bucky doesn’t spend the night, but as he’s leaving he holds your cheek, “I didn’t come with an ulterior motive, just to see you. If you want, we can go have dinner tomorrow. I have something I want to ask you, doll.”

“That’s ominous,” you’re a little nervous by that phrase. No one likes being told that someone has ‘something to ask them’ in a day. There’s anxiety crawling up your chest before Bucky kisses your lips.

“It’s a good question baby, don’t overthink it. I’ll pick you up at seven.”

You grab the memory stick off the table before you could forget, “Here, I put all the songs I’ve sent on here.” Bucky kisses you again.

“You’re an angel,” you steal a kiss before he pulls away. “Lock your doors.”

“Sir yes sir.”

You hear him laugh all the way to his car.

Despite Bucky’s well meaning, ‘Don’t overthink it.’ That’s all you did when you woke up and started sifting through dresses to wear.

You’re ready at six and that makes you even more anxious. There’s too much time to do nothing but sit and overthink it.

You’re working yourself up to outright calling Bucky when there’s a knock at your door.

A quick peek at the clock on your stove let’s you know you’ve been overthinking it for forty five minutes.

When you open the door, Bucky’s standing in front of you in a pretty blue shirt that makes his eyes pop, and black dress pants.

He’s not got flowers this time, but he is holding a box of what you think are chocolates.

“Oh my god,” he breathes as he takes you in. You’re in a pretty pale purple dress, white heels and your hair is down in loose curls. You hadn’t gone for heavy makeup but just enough where there’s purple glitter on your eyelids and your lips are a deep red.

“You look handsome.” You say as you fight the blush creeping up your chest at the way Bucky’ stares at you.

“You look,” he trails off like he really can’t find the right words. “Breathtaking.”

You feel as though the blush explodes in your chest and heats your entire face.

Bucky hands you the box of chocolates, “They’re all dark chocolate.” You smile as you take it; that’s another thing Bucky’s remembered you like.

“Do I get to know where we’re going?”

You ask as you slip the chocolates into your purse and shut your door.

Bucky smiles as he watches you lock your door before turning to him. Immediately he links his hand with yours.

“We’re going for dinner somewhere nice,” the entire ride to the car Bucky has you talking. About the last book you read, work, if you think about him every night before bed (the last one was just to make you laugh, but the truth is you do.)

“What about you Bucky? Do you think about me before bed?”

You ask as he parks and he turns to you.

“Oh yeah,” that’s all he says before coming out of the car to open your door. “Think about you more than I think about anything else, doll.”

You manage to hold back your question just before dessert, “Can you please ask me? I’m freaking out and I think my heart might explode from the anxiety.”

There’s a laugh that bubbles from you and Bucky tuts.

“Honey,” you press a hand to your chest. Your anxiety really is at an all time high. You have so many questions rattling around your head that Bucky could want to ask you and you may throw up the lovely pasta you just had if he doesn’t ask you soon.

He leans across the table and holds onto your wrist, feeling the erratic beat of your pulse.

“I’ve been torturing you, haven’t I doll?”

You nod as you try to calm your racing heart.

“I didn’t mean to,” Bucky’s thumb strokes short lines across your wrist. “I had it all set up to come with dessert but I’ll put you out of your misery.”

“Thanks,” you mutter and he smiles.

“I know we’re only going steady,” that gets a smile out of you. He really is an old man, “but I wanted to ask you if I could be yours? Saying boyfriend makes me feel older so I won’t say it.”

You laugh, letting your head fall on his hand where it holds yours.

“Not the other way around?” You ask and Bucky huffs.

“You’re not property, honey.”

You look up with a smile and Bucky’s smile gets a little brighter. “Yeah you can be mine.”

“C’mere,” he tilts your chin a little higher and kisses you; slow and just long enough for it not to be a full make out. “You really missed out on the whole cheesecake with chocolate drizzle writing.”

He says as he pulls away and you laugh.

“Oh, are they not bringing it anymore?”

Bucky shakes his head, mischief in his eyes. “After you just latched onto me in the middle of their establishment? I don’t know, doll.”

“You’re ridiculous.” They still bring the cheesecake and Bucky feeds you the first bite, and like the flirt and menace he is, he gets a little just to the corner of your mouth.

“Let me get it for you,” and steals another kiss, ‘cleaning it off.’

Bucky Barnes really knows how to court a woman.

Silent Obsession

Summary; After he became a civilian Bucky's mind, body and soul was trying to adapt to his new life. He swore to himself that he was going to live the rest of his life alone, until he saw her. His distroted mind and broken soul ached to be with her, to be around her all the time. Could he manage it or ruin it for both of them?

A/N: Hey! I hope you like the series so far. I'm having fun writing it. Make sure to check out the Spotify playlist. xxx

TAG LIST IS OPEN!

Words: 2.017K

Warnings: Stalking!

Chapter Four

James Buchanan Barnes had been staring at his laptop’s screen for God knew how long. Sam made him buy a laptop and he wasn’t using it much since he had a phone, his phone was old but he didn’t care. It worked and that was the most important thing. He was on his couch, laptop on the coffee table, Alpine napping next to him and he was just staring at the screen. He found Y/N’s Instagram account. She didn’t have many pictures but the ones she had were very beautiful. Her smile was contagious and she looked so care free, it made Bucky wonder what happened to that girl? He knew that girl was still in there but he assumed life took a turn and one thing led to another. He wished he didn’t follow her to her apartment because that action gave him the information of her ‘’boyfriend’’ and he had to draw a line here. She belonged to someone else… the thought made his blood boil. What kind of a man would let his woman hustle?! He scoffed in disgust. ‘’I wasn’t planning on dating anyways.’’ He said to Alpine which made the cat purr, Alpine was a very talkative cat, she would respond to his words all the time. His phone rang and he picked it up, it was Sam, telling him that the government needed them on a small mission, it would be nice to kick some people’s asses and let his anger out so he said yes.

‘’I cannot believe the Rose Guy didn’t show up.’’ Melanie whined as they were closing, sweeping the floors and tidying the place up. ‘’Maybe his girlfriend dumped him.’’ She added which made Y/N chuckle, she didn’t tell Melanie that she had a second job and she saw him. For some reason she wanted to keep that information to herself. It had been a week since she saw him anyways. Y/N found herself disappointed when he didn’t come, she waited and had hope till the closing hour but he was a no show and she didn’t know why she was upset. She shrugged her shoulders and continued sweeping, cleaning and organizing kept her mind at peace and it was her escape. Ever since Leo moved in with her she was a cleaning maniac, the skin of her hands got dry and cracked due to the chemicals and they bled sometimes but seeing the clean sinks, surfaces made her feel like she accomplished something.

After they finished their job they said goodbye and parted ways, Y/N really liked Melanie but every time Melanie asked her to hang out outside she had to decline, eating out or even going out for simple coffee was something she didn’t have the luxury of. She kept coming up with lies,

 ‘’I promised Leo.’’

‘’Leo is taking me out tonight.’’

‘’We’re going on a weekend getaway.’’

The truth was that sometimes Leo didn’t even come home for a day or two and she never asked anything. She couldn’t handle the truth and she actively choose to stay in the dark side, mind her own business. With these thoughts she walked to the store she worked at, after learning that she had a second job and it was night shift at a market Leo didn’t say anything, he brushed it off to be exact. It made her angry, she was the one paying the rent and the bills and helping him with his gambling debt. She sighed as she wore her uniform, which was a blue shirt that had her name, she sat on the uncomfortable chair behind the cash register and opened her book. She never allowed herself any luxuries except books and usually got books from the library and she was a regular there but sometimes she wanted to own the book she was reading, a piece of literature in her home so if she liked a book very much she would buy it and add it to her collection at home. It was all she could do and afford, reading. Sometimes cleaning didn’t help with her non-stopping brain. She had few people come in, buying some products and leaving, it was a calm night and she was liking the calm. She would rather stay here than going back home. And she heard the door being opened, her head casually looked up to see the customer and it was him.

Her heart skipped a beat when she saw his face being bruised, dark circles under his crystal blue eyes, a swollen lip and a cut on his eyebrow, dark purple bruises here and there. Y/N found herself bolting to her feet, walking towards him with fear in her eyes, ‘’What happened to you?!’’

Bucky had just arrived from the mission, it had been a week, at first it was an easy mission but then it got complicated and he had few bruises, nothing he didn’t experience before and he realized he didn’t have any first aid kit in his bathroom so he got on his bike, he rode to her second job, just to see her after a week but if he had known that she would be this worried he wouldn’t have walked inside at all. When he walked inside her pretty eyes found Bucky and in those eyes he saw the primal fear, fear for someone she didn’t even know, an undeserving person…  He was a super solider which was something she didn’t know and his wounds healed more quicker than a normal human being but it wasn’t instant so he needed medicine etc. Bucky froze when she stood up and rush to him, being this close, there was a significant height difference so she had to look up at him, he found it adorable and liked it very much. ‘’Uh..’’ he felt his mouth open but couldn’t speak, he closed his mouth and it hurt a bit due to the bruise, ‘’Just.. got into a fight.’’ It wasn’t a lie, he was beating the shit out of bad men and they jumped on him. Ever since Wakanda he never killed an enemy, his move was to get their weapons and neutralized them. He wasn’t a killing machine anymore and he wanted to show that. ‘’Come.’’ She said and Bucky followed her immediately, like a trained dog. Y/N took him to the back, there was a storage place, ‘’Sit.’’ She said with authority that it made Bucky sit in a second. He was a solider after all and he was prone to follow rules. Y/N brought a small first aid kit, pulled a chair to sit in front of him, she placed the kit on her lap. Y/N was used to cleaning up bruises so her hands worked like magic, the only sound was the freezer working, the white florescent lights made the storage place look like an interrogation room but Bucky felt somewhat normal. He usually let no one touch him and this girl was patching him up. She cleaned the small cuts and open slits with antiseptic and then rubbed some ointment, she was surprised to see him sit like a statue, unmoving. Lastly she placed a band aid on the cut on his cheek, it was deeper than the other cuts. ‘’Change the band aid every day.’’ She said and stood up, ‘’You need first aid kit at home so I’ll give you one,’’ she closed the kit and handed it to him, ‘’just this once. Don’t get into trouble again.’’ This was the first time she was talking to him as a normal person than their usual customer and employee dynamic. He also got up, ‘’Thank you.’’ He managed to say, he wasn’t use to people just helping him or being nice for the sake of kindness and humanity other than Mr. Nakajima and Mrs. Rodriguez and the pain in Bucky’s butt Sam Wilson.  Bucky was used to being treated like an object to serve the needs of bad people. He just stood there, one hand in his pocket, the other holding the kit, he was dressed in black, black pants and boots, black hoodie, leather gloves. She was also standing there, her pretty eyes looking around than him, ‘’I..’’ she began, ‘’I should get back to work.’’ She said and head to the door, Bucky followed in silence. He could feel the pull between them, wherever she went he would follow and he liked it, as he walked behind her in the store he knew that he wasn’t going to stop. He was going to see her, follow her, be her shadow and he was fine with it. A protective shadow who would o anything and everything for her.

She walked behind the cash register, ‘’I want to pay for the kit.’’ Bucky said, he didn’t want to put her in any bad situation, ‘’No, It’s on me.’’ She said calmly, she felt safe and could be more rational now that there was a space between them, his outfit, the way he held himself and his bruises made him look so virile that she had forgotten a man could look and have that energy. He sighed, ‘’Alright.’’ And then there was a pause between them, ‘’I should go.’’ Bucky announced, he raised the hand he was holding the kit, ‘’Thanks again.’’ His ocean eyes couldn’t stop staring, ‘’Next time you’re buying it so don’t fight.’’ She found herself being bold, deep down Y/N didn’t want him to fight and get hurt, he had a pretty face and she wanted it to stay like that. ‘’Yes ma’am!’’ Bucky said respectfully, if it meant that getting into trouble and getting few bruises would make her open up to him then he was planning to hire some men to beat him so that he could come back to her with an excuse. Y/N chuckled at his response, ‘’Good night.’’ She said as he was walking out, ‘’Night.’’ He replied and left the store.

Bucky walked to the empty alley he parked his bike and leaned on it, after their small interaction he wasn’t going to go home, home could wait. He was going to wait like he did last time, make sure she got home safe and then he was going to get back to Alpine and rest. He observed the small kit, she just touched that and now he was holding it, in his large hands, he could feel his cold heart beat faster, this was the first object that Y/N had touched and he got to keep it to himself. His distorted and dark mind wanted more but he calmed himself, they had plenty of time for that.

When her shift ended Bucky had been waiting in the dark alley for hours but his body didn’t feel any exhaustion, not when it come to her anyways. He got onto his bike and kept a safe distance, he made sure to wear his helmet, he didn’t want her to see him and be scared of him. She looked so fragile, helpless, and vulnerable and so.. so perfect.

Once she reached her building Bucky exhaled deeply, she was at home, he could go back to his.

Y/N opened the door slowly, it was locked which meant she didn’t have to be silent, on edge.. he wasn’t at home. She walked inside, closed the door behind her and leaned on it, exhaled deeply. She didn’t know when Leo would come back and honestly she didn’t care much. Her weary mind was reliving what happened on her late night shift, after not seeing the Rose Guy for a week he showed all bruised, from the beginning he looked like he had a dangerous life but she never thought she would see him like this. He was a scary man but the way he obeyed her tonight surprised her, she said follow he followed, she said sit and he sat… Y/N was so tired that she slowly sat on the floor, she couldn’t stop thinking of him, how he was calm, how his blue eyes looked at her.

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Thank you for reading. :)

Silent Obsession

Summary; After he became a civilian Bucky's mind, body and soul was trying to adapt to his new life. He swore to himself that he was going to live the rest of his life alone, until he saw her. His distroted mind and broken soul ached to be with her, to be around her all the time. Could he manage it or ruin it for both of them?

A/N: Hey guys! I love writing this so much! Let me know what you think.

This is the playlist I made for the series;

TAG LIST IS OPEN!

Words: 2.387K

Warnings: Stalking, mention of abuse (slight)

Chapter Three

Bucky was as if someone hammered him on the spot where he left his bike before he walked into the store, it was open for 24/7 so she must be on the night shift, was this her daily routine? During the day she was at the flower shop and at night she was at the store, his dark mind was going to places he couldn’t hinder, ‘’Was she sent by the HYDRA?’’ this couldn’t be a coincidence or was it just fate?

The world was getting smaller and smaller these days, as his mind was screaming at him his body was like a marble statue, unmoving. He was leaning on his bike, the treat he got for Alpine in his leather jacket’s pocket. ‘’Why does she have two jobs?’’ he asked himself, was she paying a debt or she had mouths to feed back at home? He could understand that because he was the eldest of 4 siblings, he had to quit school and start working, his father George Barnes had died and he became the man of the house real quick and then he enlisted in the army when the war broke out. ‘’Was she married? No, too young, plus no wedding ring.’’ As he dwelled on these thoughts he watched people go in, buy things and leave the store. From where he was he could see her standing, smiling at every customer, ‘’Does she have to smile to everyone?’’ a whisper behind his ear, ‘’James! Get a grip, she is no one to you, get back home!’’ another whisper. The next thing he knew he stood there, leaning on his bike till dawn, watching her greeting morning worker and giving him the uniform and then leaving with weary shoulders. Her hands in her jacket’s pockets, her brown bag tucked on her shoulder, she was walking, Bucky’s feet started to move, stealth in his steps, his feet had its own mind apparently. She was across him on the other sidewalk so she didn’t notice a thing, one could hear people waking up and the city becoming alive once again with the first lights of the day. Buses were on duty, people were heading to their jobs, life as normal as it could get. She was a strange creature to him, so calm mannered and focused on her jobs, Bucky could sense that she was a hard-working woman and he liked it but also detest it at the same time. She deserved to lay back and take it easy but she must be in a situation where she had to hustle, Bucky bet that she had side hustles as well.  She wasn’t taking any buses or heading to the subway, she was determined to walk back home and so was Bucky. He wanted to see her building, was it a safe place? As they walked the streets he could see that it wasn’t safe, he hated that. He hated that she wasn’t in a safe environment, he hated that she didn’t have someone to look after her. She reached to a building after 20 minutes of non-stop walking, on their separate walks Bucky noticed few things, how she never looked at any shop windows or street food carts, she must be starving but her head was low, was she ignoring the delicious smells or shiny objects on purpose so that she wouldn’t have to buy or dare to want. Bucky knew how scary to dare to want something because it meant hope, and hope was a dangerous thing . Without even looking around her she walked inside through the brown doors of the building, it was similar to Bucky’s building but shabbier, he waited outside for two minutes and then walked in behind her. He was just going to check her mailbox or maybe find out which floor and door belonged to her, was it crazy? He didn’t answer that question and it hung in his mind, screaming at him.

The inside mailboxes were on the wall, just like any other apartment complex, he found her name and

‘’Y/N Y/L/N’’

Her mailbox was empty, he figured that she must be doing everything online and no one sends letters these days other than important governmental forms. He sighed, he wondered which floor and the door was hers, the elevator was out of order so if it was at the top she must be climbing the stairs still, Bucky stopped before the stairs which were covered with a dirty carpet, one couldn’t tell the color anymore. He sighed again and started to climb the stairs, the building had 5 floors, he quickly climbed the stairs, as he reached the 4th floor he heard and saw a door closing, was it hers? His heart was beating wild, what would have happened if she were to just take the trash out and saw him standing there? He slowly approached the door and saw the number, it was 8.

He wasn’t sure if it belonged to her and he was about to leave and he heard sounds, ‘’Where were you?’’ a man said with a gruff voice, he heard some glasses being moved on the floor, ‘’I was at the night shift.’’ And it was her soft voice but this time she sounded more cautious and alert. ‘’You should’ve told me that you got a second job Y/N!’’ the man said clearly unhappy and he sounded young, couldn’t be her father for sure. His hands were in fists, ‘’I’m going to make breakfast.’’ She replied, and then no sound followed. She must be in a relationship and living together in a shitty apartment. His ears were ringing and he  could feel his blood boiling, Bucky waltzed out of that building, not looking back, if he looked back he knew that he would break down the door and ask why was her wrist bruised.

Y/N’s hands were shaking as she made breakfast, bacon and eggs for Leo and cereals for her, she didn’t have appetite lately. She made coffee and poured orange juice as well for him, he was in the shower, as she looked around she saw empty beer bottles on the small living room, he was invading her space for sure. She picked up the empty bottles and threw them in trash, opened the curtains and windows for fresh air to come and cleans her space, ‘’When did we turn into this?’’ she asked herself, a drunk gambler and his bread winner girlfriend. Leo was in debt and it was a lot, in order to hide he came to live with her but she was telling Melanie that Leo was in love with her and moved in with her. What was she suppose to say? That their love died years ago and she was the only escape he could use? She wasn’t exactly getting young and Leo was the only one she had for years…. She sighed in grief of their deceased love and got back to the kitchen which was connected to the living room, it was a small one bedroom apartment. She was almost finished with her cereal when he came out of the shower, a towel wrapped around his waist, he was handsome still with his blonde hair and beard, she used to get butterflies seeing him, she used to forget to breath when she saw him and now all she could think about was the bruise on her wrist. Leo wasn’t like this before, they met in high school, he was the bad boy and she was the nice girl, everyone wondered why Leo was with her, she was getting good grades, respectable young girl… when her parents died Leo was the one who helped her, so she never forgot that, during hard times he was with her but now… things have changed completely. ‘’Huh?’’ Leo’s voice brought back to the reality of her situation, ‘’Nothing, I just zoned out.’’ She replied and smiled but it was a dead one. Leo was too occupied with his bacon and eggs to notice it.

On the other hand, Bucky didn’t remember how he walked back to his bike and rode back home. The ringing in his ear didn’t stop till he reached home and picked up Alpine to calm himself, in chaotic situations or if he ever got triggered he would always pet Alpine, her purring calmed him all the time. ‘’Here Alpine.’’ He said as he got the treat out of his jacket’s pocket and opened the metal can with one quick move, Alpine happily ate the treat and Bucky watched her. ‘’Fuck..’’ he sighed, ‘’She has someone Alpine.’’ He spoke to his cat as usual. ‘’I should stop, shouldn’t I?’’ the cat was eating her delicious treat so he was left with his thoughts on his couch, covered in white fur. He huffed and laid his head back, closed his azure eyes but that didn’t help, he saw Y/N, her smile, her pure face, it was just too much and the fact that he didn’t get any sleep made him feel uneasy, he never slept too much but he needed at least 4-5 hours of it to function properly. Bucky got up, took of his jacket and threw it on the wooden floor and laid on his couch, his flesh arm covering his eyes he tried to get some sleep.

Y/N took a shower, didn’t forget to lock the door. She didn’t want to be disturbed and she knew Leo, no respect for privacy. His presence made her take a quick shower, she used to love getting a shower for a long time but now her body kept rushing her, after shower she wore the clothes she brought in the bathroom, an oversized shirt, baggy shorts, she brushed her hair and dried it. She didn’t have much skincare routine because the products were expensive and she didn’t have a budget to spare right now.. or ever. As she looked at her blurry reflection on the steamed bathroom mirror her mind went back to last night when she saw him. The ‘’Rose Guy’’ it was a nickname Melanie came up with, she chuckled and closed her mouth with her hand immediately, why did she chuckled? ‘’What a coincidence.’’ She said and applied her one and only moisturizer on her face. She wasn’t being honest with herself, ever since she saw him she kept thinking about him, the dark haired and blue eyed stranger looked fascinating to her. He wasn’t a talker unlike her other customers who loved to make small talk with her or Melanie, they loved to tell who were they buying the flowers for or what was the occasion etc. but not him. Something in her hoped to see him again next Monday for roses, when her mind wandered to a place where she was questioning who was the roses for she stopped herself and  got out of the shower, she wanted to sleep before going to the flower shop. Juggling two jobs wasn’t easy and it took a tool on her.

Bucky on the other hand slept for about 2-3 hours and then lifted himself from his couch, Alpine was on the coffee table, watching him, ‘’Hey.’’ He greeted with a rough voice, petted her head and got up, he hit the shower, a quick one and then got dressed, he got his dirty clothes and headed downstairs of the building where the washing machines kept, as he was doing laundry he read a book, he had so many books to catch up and he was reading the Hunger Games, he promised Sam to read the books first and then watch the movies. He was halfway through it and he enjoyed it very much, a messed up society where tributes have to fight to death to win a prize, it sounded very interesting to him. As he was reading he imagined Katniss as Y/N, they were both strong women who have to be tough and get by. He huffed and placed the book aside when his laundry was clean and dry, he got his clothes back and headed upstairs. On his way he saw Mr. Nakajima, ‘’James! Lunch?’’ the old man asked, ‘’Sure Mr. Nakajima, let me put these and I’ll meet you there.’’ The old man nodded and reached for the elevator, he remembered the time where he first met, the elevator wasn’t working and no one was doing nothing about it so he took the liberty and fixed it himself. He was handy with anything, of course he didn’t tell anyone that he fixed it himself and over the months when the washing machines made a problem he tended them, the only good thing came out of HYDRA was his knowledge of fixing things and it came in handy these days.

As he got dressed he headed out, to meet with Mr. Nakajima and eat lunch at their favorite Japanese place which he visited yesterday. Leah was there, talking to him and he entered the place. ‘’Here is your buddy.’’ She announced which made the old man look over his shoulder, ‘’Great! I’m starving.’’ The man said and Bucky sat next to him. They didn’t have to order because Leah knew their classic lunch order so they decided to catch up and the topic came to Bucky being alone. ‘’You should be with someone,’’ Mr. Nakajima said, ‘’Everyone needs someone James.’’ Bucky knew the old man had no ill intentions and just saying this opinions and he was right, the problem was to trust and let your guard down and that wasn’t something he could imagine himself doing and the fact that he was the Winter Soldier and committed number of violent crimes including Mr. Nakajima’s son’s death.. Bucky was intent on being single. He didn’t want anyone to crumble under the burden of his petrifying past. ‘’Don’t you find anyone attractive, boy?!’’ Mr. Nakajima protested and Bucky’s weary head immediately pulled up an image of her, Y/N…

‘’What if I do?’’ he found himself asking which made the old man smile, ‘’Who? Is it Leah?’’ he was excited, one could see. Bucky shook his head as no because Leah just brought their lunch and left with a smile. ‘’Then who?’’

‘’You don’t know her.. to be honest neither do I…’’

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Chapter Four

Bucky Barnes Fanfiction!

Silent Obsession:

Summary; After he became a civilian Bucky's mind, body and soul was trying to adapt to his new life. He swore to himself that he was going to live the rest of his life alone, until he saw her. His distroted mind and broken soul ached to be with her, to be around her all the time. Could he manage it or ruin it for both of them?

This is the playlist I made for the series;

Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four

Silent Obsession

Summary; After he became a civilian Bucky's mind, body and soul was trying to adapt to his new life. He swore to himself that he was going to live the rest of his life alone, until he saw her. His distroted mind and broken soul ached to be with her, to be around her all the time. Could he manage it or ruin it for both of them?

A/N: Hello guys! Not me being consistent lol! I'm enjoying this very much and I hope you do too. Let me know what you think.

This is the playlist I made for the series;

TAG LIST IS OPEN!

Warnings: Dark Romance. Stalking.

Words: 2.691K

Chapter Two

It had been a week since the game night, Sam had mentioned a mission coming up, it wasn’t soon but Sam didn’t have to hear him say yes, he was always ready for a mission.  A mission was an only thing that made Bucky comfortable, he had been so use to being a soldier and a killing machine that it made his mind calm and relaxed, he liked planning and following the plan, getting the bad guys behind bars or under the ground was something he knew how to do, getting a new life? That was something else. He had woken up in cold sweat, on the floor of his living room, he had a thin blanket on him, covering his bare chest and he could feel his dog tags stuck to his wet chest, he was hyper-aware of the sweat, the dog tags, his navy blue shorts and the blanket on him, he sat breathing heavily.

He woke up before his alarm which was set to 6 am. It was 5.38 in the morning, the nightmare felt too real, as if he were there pulling the trigger. He huffed and got to his feet, he marched to his bathroom to start the day a bit early. As he took a shower with warm water his mind drifted to the girl he had seen a week ago. Was she also getting ready for work or was it a day off? His mind already making a plan to ride the bike near her workplace, maybe Mrs. Rodriguez needed groceries and he could pick them up, on his way he could also take a tour around a certain flower shop. He left the shower, dried himself with a towel and walked to the bedroom to get dressed. He wore a dark grey hoddie, black pants, boots and leather jacket with leather gloves. Alpine was content, not moving a muscle on the couch, he put some cat food and water in her bowls and got his house and bike keys from the kitchen counter, ‘’See you later Alpine.’’ He said and rubbed her head before he left his apartment. He first knocked on Mr. Nakajima’s door, they were on the same floor, ‘’I’m coming!’’

he heard the old man’s yell, he was moving slow due to his age. Mr. Nakajima answered the door with a grumpy look as usual, ‘’Hey Mr. Nakajima, I’m heading out do you need anything that I can get you?’’ every time Bucky saw the old guy he felt this sour feeling in his stomach, the sour feeling of regret and punishment. Bucky was punishing himself, in his mind he murdered Mr. Nakajima’s innocent son and Bucky had to pay the price, to him it didn’t matter if he was a brainwashed solider at the time. ‘’No, thank you but do ask Mrs. Rodriguez.’’ He was a simple man with few words, didn’t like to talk too much and always straight to the point, Bucky saw himself in him. ‘’Will do. Have a great day.’’ And the door shut to his face.

He used the stairs as usual and reached Mrs. Rodriguez’s door and knocked softly, soon the old lady answered, ‘’James!’’ her brown eyes got  brighter with seeing him, ‘’Such a handsome face to start my day.’’ She added and Bucky smirked, ‘’I have some errands to run, do you need anything from outside?’’ The old lady smiled kindly, ‘’Ah, you’re a life saver James. I need eggs and flour. Here let me get my purse.’’ But Bucky stopped her, ‘’Please Mrs. Rodriguez, I’ll get back with those soon. You always share what you bake so let me.’’ He raised his gloved hands in protest, he learned from his ma that he should be a gentleman and help women all the time. ‘’Dear James! You’re such a sweet boy, not many left like you these days.’’ She looked sentimental, maybe she remembered the times where men were real men. ‘’See ya later.’’ Bucky said and headed to the stairs again to leave the building. He didn’t have any errands to run, he just needed and excuse, an excuse so that he could justify his actions to his rational side of his brain. He got onto his bike, these past 7 days all he could think about was her. Her kind smile, skillful hands, soft demeanor, she represented everything he wasn’t and that draw his attention, on his bike he tried to focus on the road, his first stop was the market, he got some flour and eggs and then he left the market, few blocks down was the Floral Fantasia, his main goal. In his one hand he was carrying the bag and marching the pavement like a soldier in his heavy boots. A man on a mission. As he saw the place his heart started to beat faster than normal, the shop was open, it was 2 pm, the city was busy per usual. Cars and bikes were passing by, life was flowing for everyone around him. A kid passed, probably 7 or 8 years old, holding his mother’s hand and in his other hand he had candy, they stopped at the lights, the kid looked up to Bucky, his green eyes went wide, Bucky knew the kid recognized him. He was wearing a Captain America t-shirt of course he knew who was the Cap’s childhood best friend. Even though Bucky’s hair was short and he covered his metal arm at all times his face was the same, he had to leave before the kid made a scene but something happened that he couldn’t understand. The kid with green eyes smiled at him ear to ear and then his mother urged him to walk. He froze for a second, didn’t know what to do and then he saw the green light so he walked. His feet took him to the shop like a trained memory even though he had been here once. Carefully he pushed the door and walked in, the bell rang as he got inside, the same fresh smell hit his nose and his distorted and dark mind associated the sweet scent with her. This time she wasn’t at the back, she was at the front, behind the cash register and her head lifted as soon as she heard the door being opened and that damn beautiful smile, deep down he knew that she had to smile like this to everyone who came in and it didn’t sit right with him. She was wearing blue jeans, a bit baggy, maybe she had lost some weight but

didn’t buy a new pair, and she had a white tank top and a blue shirt on top, her golden name tag on her left side, Y/N… what a name, a certain feeling of possessiveness washed over him, he wanted no one but himself to say her name. His eyes wandered on her chest and up her face. ‘’Hello Sir, how may I help you?’’ she asked with that soft voice, he approached, he placed the bag he was carrying on the white counter and he leaned on it with his two hands, towering over her, with broad shoulders,  ‘’I would like to have a bouquet of red roses please.’’ He said with a flat tone but his eyes weren’t flat at all. His ocean eyes found her Y/E/C eyes and dared her to look at him directly. The other girl was watching the scene unfold and didn’t make a sound. ‘’Of course.’’ She nodded and Bucky noticed the pink dust on her cheeks, his eyes followed her every move. She got the roses and everything she needed to make that bouquet, Y/N noticed the flour and eggs inside the bag, ‘’Do you bake?’’ she asked out of curiosity, he didn’t look the type, with her question he paused, observing her first, was she interested? Maybe or maybe not. Her hair falling from her shoulders and covering the side of her face, he wanted to reach and tuck a strand behind her ear and he had to struggle with himself to not do it. ‘’No.’’ he said and then the stillness followed, she looked up for a second to meet his gaze and when he didn’t continue explaining she lowered her head to do her job, he felt bad, very very bad. ‘’Uh- a neighbor of mine does. She needed the ingredients.’’ He shortly explained and it made her look at him again, if it meant that him talking would make her look at him, Bucky would never shut up, even though that wasn’t characteristic of him at all. ‘’How kind of you to get her groceries.’’ She commented and for once in years Bucky blushed, he lowered his head, he didn’t know what to do with that strange heat in his cheeks. He bit his bottom lip in desperation. ‘’Please praise me more..’’ his mind begged in silence, even though this was the second time he saw her, Bucky knew he was getting hooked but in silent obsession.  

‘’All done.’’ She announced later, till then he noticed he watched her like a predator and to their audience it must have been a good show. ‘’That’ll be 40 dollars.’’

Bucky reached to his wallet inside his leather jacket, got 40 USA dollars and extended to her with his non metal hand again, just to feel that tiny touch through his gloved hand. A sudden rush of worry washed his entire body when he saw a red hand mark on her delicate wrist, and then rage followed. His blue eyes looked at the bruise and then up at her pretty eyes, she realized what was happening and quickly got the money and placed it on the cash register. ‘’Have a great day Sir.’’ She said with a quick breath, ‘’Thank you. You too.’’ He said slowly as his mind was contemplating on what to do. He got the roses and his bag and then unwillingly left the flower shop.

Why did she have a bruise on her wrist?

Why did she look apologetic as if it was her fault?

Did she fell or…

He didn’t want to think further, he placed the things on his bike’s small compartment and got onto the bike, the Harley’s engine was heard by the girls inside the flower shop and he rode the bike, not knowing a pair of pretty eyes watching from the window of the shop. On his way back home his mind didn’t give him a rest, he exhaled deeply as he parked his Harley and got his things, with a stern look he got inside the building, climbed up the stairs to Mrs. Rodriguez’s door and knocked. The woman was surprised again, she didn’t expect Bucky to give her another bouquet of red roses but she was happy, thanked him so many times and promised to keep baking for him. Her presence gave him comfort and he liked that. Later he climbed up to his place and unlocked the door, Alpine greeted him with meows and rubbing herself on his legs, he closed his door behind him and locked it. ‘’Hey baby girl.’’ He greeted, he was grateful that he had Alpine, she was the one who kept him alive and gave him a reason to wake up every morning and recently there was another reason to wake up from his nightmares... as Bucky remembered her he remembered the mark on her wrist. He flung himself on the couch which was covered in Alpine’s white fur but he didn’t mind.

‘’Come here sweet girl.’’ And Alpine jumped on his lap, he removed his gloves and started petting her, she was purring and he loved the sound of that. ‘’It’s stupid.’’ He found himself taking to his non verbal cat, ‘’Why do I even care? She is no one to me..’’ he was rather chatty today. Alpine was rubbing herself and body on his palm and meowing softly as if she was trying to give her ideas, he chuckled, ‘’I’m going insane aren’t I Alpine?’’ He got up and looked at his silver watch on his wrist that was non vibranium. It was 6 pm, he was hungry and decided to eat outside. There was a small Japanese place nearby, a place he usually went with Mr. Nakajima but tonight he wanted to go alone and eat some sushi, maybe a bowl of ramen. He liked Asian food and even though that place was small it was the best. He never trusted big restaurant chains because the food was mediocre in those places, however in small business, especially a family restaurant had the most tastiest dishes. ‘’Alright alright, I’ll get you something extra!’’ he protested to Alpine who was protesting as he left his flat.

The place was crowded and it was easy to blend in the crowd, a trick from his Winter Soldier times. It was a rather dark place with small dark brown tables and a bar place, one could see the chef making the dishes behind the bar, the delicious smell of soy sauce made his stomach growl, he sat behind. It was an old style restaurant where they had a menu book and order, he liked it very much. He decided to order a plate of sushi and a beer so he raised his hand, the waitress and she was also the bartender Leah came to get his order, they got used to each other, he was a regular customer here. ‘’Where is your pal?’’ she asked smiling, ‘’Oh, he was tired so you have me.’’ He replied and gave is order, ‘’Thank you.’’ Didn’t forget to thank her, the service workers were the backbone of this country and he was careful to treat them with respect.

He could hear half Japanese and half English words from the customers, most were also regular, he could speak Japanese thanks to his training under HYDRA he could speak so many languages. They were talking about mundane life problems, how they’re paying their mortgage, their kids and wives, the restaurant had mostly male customers so topics were sports, their wives and kids and their debts. He felt an outsider every time he heard the conversations, he never had a wife to complain about, hell he didn’t even have a proper long term relationship, yes he was popular among the ladies back then but mostly short term and then the war happened, the rest was history. Now he was 106, didn’t look like it but felt like it in his every fiber. His order came as he was thinking about his life and having a crisis, he thanked again to Leah. ‘’Let me know if you need anything else.’’ He nodded and she walked away. As he took his first bite he imagined Y/N sitting before her, eating together, it was such a simple daydream but felt so far away and out of reach.. he shook his head and focus on his plate.

It was maybe around 9 pm when he left the restaurant, he had few beers and talked to couple of guys, ‘’Damn, I forgot!’’ he talked to himself, he promised Alpine to get her a treat so he hopped on his bike and rode to nearest convenient store.

He walked inside the store, no one was around, it was getting late. He walked the aisles and found a treat for Alpine and marched to the front to pay and he dropped the can. It was her, now she had a blue uniform, a name tag again and she also froze when she saw him but she was the one who quickly shook her head and smiled, ‘’How may I help you?’’ said looking up at him, Bucky picked up the metal can and placed it on the counter, she scanned it, ‘’That’ll be 5 dollars.’’ She replied, his mind was hazy. He gave the 5 dollar bill, ‘’Thank you. Have a great night.’’ She smile and said, but he could see the realization in her pretty eyes. ‘’Thank you.’’ He managed to say and left in hurry.

Thank you for reading. :)

Chapter Three

Silent Obsession

Summary; After he became a civilian Bucky's mind, body and soul was trying to adapt to his new life. He swore to himself that he was going to live the rest of his life alone, until he saw her. His distroted mind and broken soul ached to be with her, to be around her all the time. Could he manage it or ruin it for both of them?

A/N: Ever since I've heard that song by Massive Attack all I can imagine is stalker bucky! Enjoy. TAG LIST IS OPEN!

This is tha playlist I made for the series;

Warnings: Dark Romance. Stalking.

Words: 3013K

Chapter One

‘’You’re alone.’’ His therapist said in a calm manner but Bucky knew she was frustrated with him. ‘’You’re 100 years old, you have no history, no family-‘’ he had to cut her off, ‘’Are you lashing out on me Doc? Because that’s really unprofessional.’’ It wasn’t a nice session to say the least. He was a civilian now and he had to get therapy once a month, at first it was every week and it was horrible. He never believed in shrinks, maybe that was his old fashioned side talking  but in Wakanda, he was making progress. Sometimes he would just sit in his small flat and imagine that he was in Wakanda again, in his small hut, surrounded by divine nature and animals… how he missed that place. Bucky observed his Doc, she was in her middle ages, married and had two children, one could see the photos on her glass desk, she always had a plain shirt and plazzo pants, her hair tied back. Thanks to his training she could deduce human behavior so meticulously perfect that he didn’t even need to talk to them to get to know them. He would just know. ‘’Your homework,’’ she began, obviously fed up with him not being so cooperative, ‘’Stop ignoring Sam Wilson’s calls and start making new friends. I know you’re not gonna but-‘’ she sighed, looking at his stoic expression, ‘’go on a small date.’’ With her last sentence he scuffed and rolled his blue eyes, that was out of the question for him. How could someone trust him and how could he trust someone?!

‘’At least call Sam back.’’ She pleaded.  The session was over, he got up from his seat, ‘’Will do.’’ He gave her a soldier salute and then waltzed out of her office, as he was about to close the door with his high senses he could hear the woman sigh and write on her notes. The soft sound of pen making contact with paper filled his already buzzing mind. He marched the halls of the building, he noticed the way people who work here avoiding making eye contact, moving out of his way. He knew the effect he had on people, they were afraid of him, as they should be because he didn’t even trust himself, he was healed in Wakanda, thanks to the community there especially Wakanda’s highly trained Dora Milaje but he was in fear that one day he was going to snap and become the Winter Soldier again. Of course his therapist didn’t know this fear of his, he wasn’t good at opening up, giving details.

Today he was off, didn’t have anything to do so his plan was to go the pub near his home and drink, maybe see Mr. Nakajima, Bucky was living in an apartment complex with his neighbors but he was only talking to Mr. Nakajima and Mrs. Rodriguez.

The reason why he was helping Mr. Nakajima was that when he was the Winter Soldier he had killed his son, he was trying to make amends and this was his way of saying sorry. He was helping him and keeping him company. Mrs. Rodriguez on the other hand was just a sweet old lady who would bake for him and Bucky would take out her trash and help her carry the groceries. As he was marching to his Harley he thought about Doc’s words, ‘’You are alone…’’ no, he wasn’t. Even though his friends were old he still had some people around him… maybe he should return Sam’s calls.

On his bike he had an idea, he was stopping at the red light, Mrs. Rodriguez once mentioned that her husband, until his last day he would get her a bouquet of red roses every week. Bucky wanted to surprise the old lady who was like a mom to him at this point, (even though he was actually older than her) it would be a nice surprise. The city was crowded as usual, he loved to watch people, most of them were in hurry. Hurrying to pick up their kids from school, getting groceries, trying to run to their appointments… life was normal for them but for James Buchanan Barnes Jr. life had never been normal. Even back in the 40s he was protecting his ma from his dad, he was hustling jobs before he became a soldier. It was never easy for him and it wasn’t going to be, he had made peace with that but sometimes, especially late at night as he laid on the floor of his small living room his mind dared to dream. A nice home, lights are on, soft music playing at the background and a woman greeting him as he enters their home… In those split seconds he would stop himself as soon as he realizes that he was dreaming something that could never happen. He didn’t see himself worthy of that kind of life.

He parked his bike on the empty ally and looked around, there was a flower shop across the street so he walked up to the shop. His boots heavy on the pavement, he had his black hoodie and his black leather jacket on top with black jeans and boots, he never forgot his leather gloves, he didn’t like people seeing his metal arm. He didn’t want to be recognized as the Winter Soldier, he was just Bucky.

The tall glass showed the inside, it looked like a cozy place, the door of the place was dark green, there was a writing on the tall glass it said ‘’Floral Fantasia’’  as he opened the door he could hear the golden bell that was attached to the door, the floors were dark wood, one could see the various types of flowers in large vases. The strong scent of freshness filled his nostrils, he had never smelt that many flowers in one place before, there was a young girl behind one of the counters and she was busy with decorating a vase, ‘’Hello Sir.’’ She smiled, Bucky didn’t return the smile, he was still standing, the door behind him. ‘’Y/N!’’ the young girl called, apparently she was busy to take his order. She smiled apologetically again, her blue eyes ran up and down on him, as she turned to go to the back of the flower shop she gave him a quick look again, Bucky could tell that this blue eyed blonde woman found him attractive, which made him feel nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Soon the blue eyed girl returned with another girl, now Bucky was close to the counter that had the cashier, waiting impatiently, he was about to leave when he saw her.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=66A_3uwuZ_I (this is the song that plays when Bucky sees her for the first time)

‘’My friend will take your order Sir, sorry to keep you waiting.’’ The previous girl said but Bucky almost didn’t hear her. His deep blue eyes focused on the new girl and as soon as he saw her something in him shifted. She looked up with those pretty eyes, eyes that could destroy empires, there was a height difference between them so she had to look up at him. She smiled kindly at him, she didn’t have any make up on, she was wearing a simple white long sleeve shirt, why was she wearing that in this heat? Bucky was covering his arm so he had to,  her blue jeans fit her hips perfectly, her long hair tied carefully, Bucky could feel his heart picking up the pace, his flesh palm getting sweatier with a certain kind of feeling he couldn’t quite place. ‘’What would you like to have Sir?’’ she simply asked, Bucky had to clear his dry throat before he could speak, ‘’A bouquet of red roses.’’ He replied with a cold tone but deep down he could feel the strange attraction towards her. He watched her skillful hands work on the bouquet, she must have been doing this for a long time, ‘’Here you are.’’ She finished her work of art and extended the bouquet and he specifically got the roses with his non metal hand, just to feel her fingers brush the leather and maybe feel a fraction if he was lucky. ‘’That’ll be 40 dollars Sir.’’ He got the money from his leather wallet and used the same hand to give the money, their fingers brushed again, he wished he didn’t have the gloves but he had to. ‘’Thank you so much, have a great day.’’ She said smiling as she placed the money, he only nodded and left the place in a hurry. His mind was going to dark places such as waiting outside till her shift ends… he forced himself to walk to his bike, he placed the roses carefully on the small trunk that was at the back, got on the bike and started the engine and waited. His thoughts occupied by the girl’s sweet smile and beautiful face. He exhaled, ‘’She is just attractive, that’s all.’’  He thought, ‘’If it was the 40s I would’ve asked her out on a movie night, maybe we would go to the beach and drink coke..’’

After waiting on his bike for few minutes he left the empty ally.

‘’Gosh! He was dreamy!’’ Y/N’s work bestie Melanie pointed out as soon as the man left. They had to finish up the vases for a wedding. The bride had chosen white tulips with slight green here and there, Y/N’s focus was on the glass vase she had just finished decorating, she sighed, deep in thoughts. Was she going to have a wedding one day? ‘’I’m sorry, what did you say?’’ she asked, Melanie was sitting on one of the tables, swaying her legs like a child, her blue eyes looking at Y/N, ‘’The man who bought the roses, he was so hot!’’ she tried to remember but all she remembered was a stern look and a tall muscular frame, ‘’Oh, you think so?’’ Y/N had started a new vase, her hands quick. ‘’Girl, didn’t you even look at him. I wish he would come back! You know what, if he comes again I’ll let you know so that you’ll see how hot he is.’’ Melanie was persistent, ‘’Alright alright, get back to work.’’ Y/N said, she was few years older than Melanie and also their boss made it clear that when he wasn’t around Y/N was in charge because she was responsible and always got the job done no matter what. ‘’How are thing with your boyfriend?’’ Melanie was a chatty one, Y/N’s hands started to shake when she heard the question maybe because she didn’t eat lunch yet, ‘’He just moved in with me.’’ Y/N replied, forcing a smile. They had a huge fight this morning, that’s why she was wearing a long sleeved shirt, ‘’Oh after 5 years, finally!’’ Melanie said, it was true, Y/N and Leo were together for five years, she didn’t remember the time they were so in love, maybe the first year of their relationship… Leo was so nice and kind.. she often wondered what happened to that sweet boy who was replaced with a gambling monster. Leo had to move in with Y/N because he was in a lot of debt, she was helping him for maybe two years, giving him money and food and now he was in her small apartment, he had to be under the radar for a while so her place was the perfect solution. Y/N’s weary head felt more heavier than usual, she rested her hands on the counter for a split second, eyes closed, ‘’You okay?’’ Melanie immediately noticed her friend being dizzy, ‘’Yeah, just, I need water.’’ She managed to say, Melanie rushed to the back, they had a small kitchen at the back and a lounge area, she brought a tall glass of water for her friend, ‘’Here. You can sit for a while.’’

Y/N only nodded, her arms feeling weak.

Bucky never used the elevator, he was climbing up the stairs holding the bouquet in one hand, the other free. The government had placed him in that apartment complex to make him adjust to the new world, he had to be among people all the time and he detested it most of the time. The apartment’s flats were occupied by various people, old, young, single, married, so many different lives that made him feel stuck in a time capsule, he wasn’t that young boy who got drafted to war, he wasn’t a killing machine either, what was he now? He had no idea. He walked up to Mrs. Rodriguez’s door, knocked on it thrice, waiting patiently, soon the door opened and the old lady’s brown eyes smiled at him. He noticed that every time she saw him there was a light in her eyes, it made his heart get a warm feeling. ‘’Hi, Mrs. Rodriguez, these are for you.’’ He extended the roses, his mind flashing him with the image of that girl who had made the bouquet, so sweet, so innocent looking..

‘’Aw, James!’’ she was one of the rare people he revealed his first name, she was now smiling ear to ear, there was dust of flour on her chubby fingers, she must have been baking again, per usual. Her pink apron was old and stitched so many times it reminded him the old times where one had to stitch their clothes, no one could afford a new one. ‘’These are beautiful. Thank you so much, you’re such a gentleman, girls must be all over you.’’ It made him scoff but he gave her a smirk, whenever he was around old people or people he was comfortable with his old self would come out with smirks, eye rolling and smug attitude. ‘’Wait!’’ she said as she walked back inside and brought back cookies, ‘’They are still warm.’’ She was so generous ‘’Thank you so much Mrs. Rodriguez, I’ll bring back the plate.’’ He gave her a smile and said goodbye, his flat was upstairs so he climbed the stairs again.

He reached to his dark brown door, immediately he could hear Alpine’s soft meows. He opened the door and was greeted by her, she was meowing as if complaining, ‘’Yeah yeah, I know I’m late. You’re just like my Ma.’’ He locked the door as he entered, his curtains were closed, there was a grey sofa in his living room, no rug, a small TV, it was a small place, connecting the kitchen and living room. At the back there was a bedroom and bathroom. He placed the plate of cookies on the white counter, noticing Alpine’s food bowl empty, ‘’Oh that’s why you were complaining.’’ He filled the white bowl, and made sure she had water as well and then he hit the shower, he stood there under the cold water, he hated the cold but it woke him up. The cold made him remember Siberia’s freezing cells, a memory he would kill to forget. After the shower, he removed the blanket over the mirror to see if he had to shave or not but he could wait for a few days, he covered the mirror again, he didn’t like seeing his reflection because it made him feel distorted to see a man who is 100 something years old still alive with a Vibranium arm, he walked back to turn on the TV, he had a towel wrapped around his waist, his dog tags hanging and sticking to his broad chest, there was a game tonight and he didn’t want to miss it.  He sat on the sofa as he zapped and found the channel, once he had found the channel he went to his fridge which only had frozen pizza and beer packs. He threw one pizza into the microwave and  got few beers, as the pizza was getting warmer he walked to his bedroom door, he opened it and hit he lights. He was actually using his bedroom as a dressing room, he had a wardrobe and a bed that has never been slept on. He wore shorts and threw the towel on the bed, and walked back to get the pizza. He liked game nights, it reminded him the old times where Bucky and Steve would listen through radio with friends. There was a dominant knock on his door, he huffed, Bucky took the pizza out of the microwave and walked to the door with cautious steps, other than the government only few people knew his location. When he checked the peephole he saw Sam’s face, he lifted one of his hand to show that he brought a six pack. ‘’Drop the weapons Bucky.’’ He rolled his eyes, Bucky huffed again and answered the door, ‘’Be quick.’’ He assured Sam inside because he didn’t want anyone of his neighbors to see his vibranium arm. ‘’It’s game night! Oh great you have pizza!’’ Sam placed the beers on the counter, got himself one and then dropped to Bucky’s sofa. Without a word Bucky popped another slice into the microwave for Sam.

‘’So, you’ve been ignoring me because….’’ Sam pointed it out as they were watching the game, it had been 20 minutes. ‘’I was busy.’’ Bucky cut short with a raspy voice, ‘’Busy with what? Hanging out with old people?’’

Bucky snapped, was Sam spying on him? Or someone else getting information on him? His distorted mind started to went into a whole spiral, was Sam trustworthy? Was he also following Mr. Nakajima and Mrs. Rodriguez?

‘’Relax blue steel!’’ Sam raised his hands in defense, ‘’I don’t got nobody on your tail! I saw your neighbor on the way to you, sweet old man asked me if I was heading to your place.’’ Bucky’s eyes travelled on Sam’s smug face to detect if he was lying, he couldn’t find any proof so he dropped it, for now.

‘’They might be old but they’re still people so I’m doing what Doc says.’’ He defended himself with an annoyed voice, finished his beer and got up, ‘’I’m assuming that your future girlfriend is going to be what-‘’ Sam pretended like he was calculating, ‘’around 80 years.’’ And laughed out loud, he couldn’t realize the change on Bucky’s face, his mind went to the girl he saw today, at the flower shop.  ‘’Yeah, right.’’ He didn’t have the energy to protest to Sam.

Something in Bucky kept whispering, a soft voice calling him, he knew from the very first start that he wouldn’t be able to stay away from her.

Thank you for reading. :)

Chapter Two