Bucky Barnes X Reader Fluff - Blog Posts

'' flower shop of new feelings ,,

[ 06 : bad feeling ]

|| pairing : james "bucky" barnes x florist!reader

|| warning : nothing !... maybe

|| wc : 1.1k (real short , sorry gang )

Ever since Peter agreed to hide Bucky’s secret friend, again he still didn’t get why he was hiding you, but he was getting 20 bucks richer every week! He wasn’t going to complain. But, as said before, ever since he’d been sworn to secrecy, Bucky and him have been talking more.

Or, an alternative way of saying it, Peter’s been annoying Bucky a bunch.

“When’d you even meet them?” Again, asking about you.

“Clint’s birthday.”

“Really? I didn’t see ‘em”

“Got his birthday gift from them.”

“Ohhh, you’re the one who got Mr. Barton the flowers!” Peter snapped his fingers and had a wide grin tugging at his lips. “Wait, so.. You’ve known them for 3 months??”

Bucky bit back a small sigh as he grabbed a weight and started to do his usual work out routine as he hummed in response, a confirmation of sorts.

“Then why haven’t you introdu–”

“Peter.” He shot a small glare at the teenager, his eyebrow twitched for a moment. “If you wanna know more, you could just ask them.”

Peter huffed and picked up a weight as well, imitating whatever Bucky was doing. “Well, I want to, but every night they come home from work they look EXHAUSTED. I mean, you’d think running a flower shop’s not all too bad, but I mean you should really see them!”

“Okay, then ask them over text.”

“.. I don’t have their number, only Aunt May does.”

“Then ask your aunt.”

“But you’re right here!”

“And you live with your aunt, what’s your point?”

“Well-” Peter cut himself off before sighing. Fiddling around with the weight in his hand. “I mean, I don’t wanna ask Aunt May, she’ll tell them I asked then it’ll be awkward.”

“What if I tell them?”

“I know you won’t!”

“And why is that, exactly?” Bucky put down the weight and raised their eyebrow in confusion. As well as some curiosity. Bucky is like a lock, only one key can unlock his secrets, and that key is rusted, dusted and thrown away to the deepest dark of the ocean.

“‘cause then they’ll know you talk about them, and you have a crush on them.”

…

At that moment it was as if Bucky was frozen in ice again. He didn’t dare even take a breath. A crush? First of all, what are they? Kindergarteners, why call it a crush? Second of all.. NO. What?! He does not have a crush on you! That’s actual crazy talk. You’re just a friend, like- like Steve, but not like Steve.

“That’s false.” was all he could utter out before trudging over to the next things he used for his workouts.

“Whaaatt? But.. What??” Peter put the weight down and followed Bucky, as if he were his mama duck. Haha, Ducky-Bucky. “You hide them for 3 months, from what I hear from Mr. Wilson, you stay out longer than usual ‘cause of them a-and you pay me not to tell anyone about them.”

“Because I know how much everyone gossips, Peter. Now buzz off. I need t’get ready for a mission.”

“Awh, man.” Peter scratched the back of his neck and sighed dramatically as he started to walk away, like a kicked puppy. “You’re lucky Mr. Stark told me I had to do some extra assignment, or else I’d be here asking you all about [Name].”

“Yeah, yeah, get outta here, punk.” He muttered, almost as if saying it to no one. As much as he tolerated Peter more than some of the other Avengers, he still needed his me time. People were tiring, Especially these people.

–

It was as if time had barely passed yet stayed still at the same time. Bucky, Natasha, Sam and Wanda were on the Quinjet as of right now. Man, how he’d wish to God he was back home. Look, he respected everyone on the plane. Sam wasn’t someone Bucky’d go out of his way to hang out on a regular, but he likes him better than Tony. Natasha and Wanda, he saw the two as someone he could sort of relate to. Natasha being a part of Hydra and a trained assassin for them unwillingly, and Wanda was an experiment for Hydra.

Small comrodaries in trauma.

All things considered though, he’d be doing anything but being on this flight. All that the four would do was beat up some people, find intel on some enhanced people they’d gotten a tip about, and figure out if they’re a danger or not.

Thinking about that wasn’t what Bucky was preoccupied with though, no. His thumbs were occupied by texting you. Thankfully, the quinjet was big enough for him to text in his own corner of the aircraft.

florist : we can have a movie night, my place if you want! when you get back?

james : only if you want to.

florist : i’ll provide the snacks if you pick the movie <3

That stupid looking heart did wonders on his heart.

james : how about a comedy?

florist : my, my james! i didn’t think you’d want a comedy! with how stoic you act all the time LMAO

james : even i need a laugh sometimes.

The main reason was ‘cause he wanted to hear your laugh.

“Prepare for landing, gang!” Natasha yelled to the group. Oh, great, mission starting soon. Bucky stood up from the metal flooring of the quinjet and shot you one last text before powering his phone off:

james : mission time. i’ll text you when i’m back.

–

You stared at the text on your screen for what felt like ages. You didn’t know why, but that text made you feel.. Anxious. Worried, all the bad feelings. Sure, Bucky was a super soldier AND an Avenger.. But you knew of the dangers, of the threats. He’s still only human.

But, you pushed your emotions aside and texted back, even though you knew he wouldn’t get it back until after the mission.

florist : goodluck, james. <3

Okay. Before we start, yes.. You may have a small, itty bitty, miniscule, super insignificant crush on Bucky. I mean, who doesn’t? He’s tall, muscular, and a quiet giant. And he actually LISTENED to you. He liked to listen to your yaps, and when you think it doesn’t get better, IT DOES! Because he actually remembers the details.

Bucky’s sweet, patient and kind. Despite the rough edges, he’s a good person. Even if he didn’t think that.

A small sigh left your lips as you clicked your television on and started to drift asleep,letting your anxieties and worries melt away with the old British narrator guy talking about “the three toed sloths” on the tv. Your dreams consisted of darkness, flowers, and warmth.

You were calm in your voided dreams, unaware of what the hell was going on with James.

|| smiles deviously, deviously smiles !!

taglist : @iyskgd , @highhopes1008

'' flower shop of new feelings ,,

[ 05 : run ]

|| pairing : james "bucky" barnes x florist!reader

|| warning : nothing ! jealous bucky makes a brief entrance 🔥

|| wc : 2.1k

|| btw, if any of ya'll wanna be apart of the taglist, js comment :3 or dm idc <3

The Avengers Tower’s atmosphere was awkward. Like, a weird tense awkwardness. Clint, Wanda, Sam and Bruce got back from their mission which.. Did not go according to plan, and were already bummed out with that, despite there being a backup plan. Tony had a fight with Pepper, yet again, which let’s be real, no one’s surprised about. And last but certainly not least, Peter had seen Bucky leave your apartment the previous night.

I would love to say that Bucky did a graceful job at covering for himself and explaining it.. But that’d be a lie. The second Peter uttered the words “Mr. Barnes?” Bucky ignored him and sped walk outta there. But being an Avenger, and having Peter practically live in the Tower made it virtually impossible NOT to run into him at least once.

“It’s not that big a deal, James, I promise.” You said, your phone pressed against your ear and shoulder. Currently, you were out checking on your shop and running a few errands. That’s when Bucky called and told you the whole ordeal after you shut the door. “I really don’t see how it’s such a big deal. Just explain to Peter that we’re friends.”

But I don’t want to. He thought, I want you as my secret. As strange as it is, you were one of the only things he felt he had that wasn’t poisoned by Hydra or the Avengers. He loved the Avengers (.. sorta) but he needed to have something that was his.

“Yeah, okay. Okay. Just- the team can be.. Unbearable with gossip.” He groaned and ran a hand through his hair. “Sorry for calling you ‘bout this”

“Hey, no, I get that. You don’t gotta explain why you freaked out about Peter,” Your voice was full of understanding. Oh, god, Bucky absolutely loves- no. No, no no. “Oh, and never apologize for talking to me, I love talking to you”

“Oh,” He felt his cheeks warm up. “I like talking to you too.”

A small laugh could be heard from your end of the line, god, he could melt with how warm your laugh was.

“Hey, I gotta head off, I’m meeting up with my brother and his wife for a small get together, but I’ll talk to you later, ‘kay?”

“Your brother?”

“Yeah, I thought I told you ‘bout him! His name’s Silas? He’s a pretentious fuck. Love him to bits, but I don’t like him, y’know?” This made Bucky let out a small chuckle. He had remembered a past conversation of yours where you rambled on about how your older brother was the golden child in your family.

“Good luck with him, [Name]”

“Thanks, James, I’ll call you later”

“Bye” He tried to hide his disappointment in his voice before hanging up. Man, what were you doing to him? He’s a lone wolf, never likes anyone, always grumpy, and rarely smiles. But with you? Seemed like he was the jolliest guy on Earth.

Ah, but he can sort out his feelings later. Right now he needed to talk with a certain Peter Parker.

–

“D-Did you need something, Mr. Barnes?”

Bucky was quick to find the spiderling, he was up in the lab with Bruce. Tinkering away at some sort of more protective type of suit, trying to replicate vibranium without using vibranium. He made up some bullshit excuse for why he needed to talk with Peter, even if Bruce knew it was a lie, he didn’t fight it.

“What you saw last night–”

“You leaving [Name]’s apartment last night?”

Bucky’s eyebrow twitched, god the way he said it felt like he was caught in an affair. “Yes. That. It was nothing.”

“With all due respect, Mr. Barnes, but if it was nothing, why’d you run away?”

“I didn’t run away,” He crossed his arms over his chest and glared at the teenager. “It was.. A strategic retreat.”

Peter deadpanned. “Mr. Barnes, I don’t care if you’re dating-”

“We’re not dating.”

“Oh.” Peter sighed and snapped his fingers. “I owe Aunt May 20 bucks now.”

“Maybe you deserve it.” Bucky sighed and tapped his finger against his arm. “Look, just.. Don’t tell anyone I’m friends with [Name].”

Now.. This is where Bucky lost Peter. Why? What?? It was a strange request. A doable one! But a real strange one. “W.. Why?”

“Because Sam’ll bring it up non-stop and I’ll get teased.” It wasn't a lie, but again, not the full reason he wanted to hide you away from the team.

Peter’s puzzled look turned into a more sinister one. “I won’t tell anyone.. But I want you to give me 20 bucks every week I gotta keep your secret”

“Wha- fine. Yeah sure.” Wasn’t like Bucky had anything to spend it on. “If you tell anyone, I’m ripping your arms off.” He said with a small glare before turning away and walking off.

“.. Arms plural? Wait! Mr. Barnes! Arms plural??”

–

With that small confrontation over, Bucky was able to rest easy. Sure, he’d lose a couple of bucks, but really it was Tony who was throwing his money around. I mean, let’s think about it. So many people live in one tower, with electricity running practically everything. The electricity, water and heating bill must be skyrocketed. Ah, but that wasn’t our dear Bucky’s problem.

No, Bucky had to sort through his feelings and try to label your friendship. So he did the one thing that allowed him to feel.. Better, run.

Leaving the Tower was easy enough, being the “Winter Soldier” made it so everyone was automatically scared of him. Slipping away was easy, what was a problem was where he wanted to run. He let his legs take him.

The wind in his hair, the small burn in his legs as he ran farther and farther. His heart rate beating every time he was able to run longer and faster due since there weren’t many people around or stops. Bucky loved to run. He would run all day if he could, it felt like freedom to him. Something he wouldn’t let anyone take from him.

Bucky ran around a few blocks multiple times, by the end of it his face was damp, but not as sweaty as the normal person would be. Again, Super Soldier. Barely got tired. But, he still wanted to get something to hydrate himself. He sped walked over to that one Cafe that was across from your shop, your friend Finn ran it? At least, that’s what you told him. Maybe he could visit you af–

“James?”

Or now. It seemed you were taking your lunch break or something, ‘cause you were standing at the counter. Leaning against the solid surface, talking with Finn. And for some reason, that made a pit form in Bucky’s stomach. But, like many things, he ignored it and walked over to you, giving a small wave to you and.. Finn.

“Hey man, you want anything?” Finn had a charming smile on his face, he seemed.. Boyish. Certainly younger than Bucky, I mean, he looked like he was in his mid-twenties, younger than you.

“Black coffee.”

You snorted and tilted your head up at him. “No cream or sugar? Pegged you for a sweet guy”

The corners of Bucky’s lips perked up for a moment and he just huffed. “Got used to it.” He did, as a young adult and the war happening, everyone had to ration. That meant when he had coffee, it had to be black. None of the fancy sweeteners.

“Boring,” You hit your hip against his in a playful manner.

In a matter of seconds, Finn came back with Bucky’s drink. Some shitty ass black coffee that was overpriced. Ah, love New York. Though, it was fine. What wasn’t fine was how Finn just kept smiling and practically flirting with you.

“We should definitely go together, it’d be really fun, hell I could pay for your ticket too.”

“Finn, you shouldn’t, I’d be able to!” You giggled behind your palm. “But, I’m not opposed to that”

“We could get dinner, hangout beforehand too?”

Smooth. “I’ll definitely think about it, Finn”

Stealing a quick glance at Bucky, you realized his confusion. “Ah, me and Finn were talking about watching a musical together!”

“Which one?”

“The Guy Who Didn’t Like Musicals!”

“That’s a thing?”

“It’s definitely a thing.” You crossed your arms with a wide smile. “It’s really good! I should show it to you, there’s a recorded version of it up on Youtube.”

He hummed in reply and gave a lazy shrug. “You’ll have to send me a link to it.”

With a small check of your watch you took in a sharp inhale. “Shit, sorry guys, my breaks almost over, Bye Finn! Bye James!”

“I’ll walk you t’your shop.”

Now this you wouldn’t pass up on. You turned back and gave a small wave to Finn as you and James walked out. The second you felt a wave of fresh air roll on you, Bucky put his arm around your shoulder. A small smile tugged on your face as our eyebrow raised. “What’cha thinkin, big guy?”

“.. There’s a lotta cars.” He muttered. The both of you were standing side by side, he was walking on the outer edge of the sidewalk while you walked on the inner. Something you didn’t even realize.

“Such a gentleman, ey, James?”

He glanced over to you, a small smile tugging at his lips as he held you close. You didn’t mind it, didn’t mind that he was warm, didn’t mind when his grip on you tightened when crossing the street, didn’t mind the momentary lingering he had before pulling away from you when you got to the shop.

“Thanks for walking me!” You pushed open the door and grabbed your apron as Bucky stood in the doorframe. He wanted to stay longer, but he didn’t want to distract you as you worked.

He nodded to your thanks and looked around the shop. It still smelled like a garden, everything still felt humid. Everything was still the same. The flowers were in neat rows but they still perfectly transitioned into one another, the small rotating seed holder was still fully stocked. You talked about how people would grab the seeds and buy them, bunches at a time, but you never let it look like that. Always wanted it to be full, just in case.

“On the house.” Shit, he didn’t even realize you were behind him. What great assassin skills guys, real good. You had a hydrangea in your hand. “It’s blue, like your eyes.”

A few beats of silence settled between you two. Bucky just stared at you as your face got increasingly hot.

“T-That was stupid! I dunno why I did that, uh- it’s just what I like to do with friends, give ‘em flowers on the house I-” He cut you off by taking the flower from your hand, all gently and he quietly examined it.

“It’s real pretty.” He muttered and held it close to his chest. “Thanks, [Name].”

“You’re welcome! I-”

Again, you were cut off, not by Bucky, but by his phone. He muttered a small curse and a “sorry” before walking a few feet away. As much as you’d love not to eavesdrop.. IT WAS SO EASY. Not like you had much to work with.

“Mhm… No, I’m out right now,went on a run.. No, I didn’t see Sam… You can tell him to suck it up. I’m not–” He groaned and stayed quiet as the other person on the line kept speaking. “I’m not- just ‘cause they screwed up shouldn’t mean-.. Ugh. Fine, you’re the captain, punk.. Yeah yeah, I’ll be back soon.”

With that he hung up the phone, glaring at it as if it just cursed everyone in his family line.

“Sorry for that, doll, it was work. Turns out next time Sam and the idiots go out, I have to go with them ‘cause they can’t do shit.” He ran a hand through his hair and took a deep breath, calming himself before he spoke up again. “I gotta go, but I’ll text you.”

“Goodluck with uh, Sam and the idiots.” It wasn’t funny, Bucky was genuinely ticked off, but you couldn’t help but giggle. Thankfully, that seemed to ease some of his tension. His shoulders dropped as he walked over to the door, shooting a small wave to you before leaving.

Hydrangea still in hand.. It was pretty. Like you.

|| the title of this chapter makes this part seem real scary 😭😭 its not, its cutsie. also, i wanted to just show small bits of jealous bucky cz i love jealous bucky. jealous bucky WILL be getting a full part of his own later down the line.

taglist : @iyskgd , @highhopes1008

'' flower shop of new feelings ,,

[ 04 : unlucky ]

|| pairing : james "bucky" barnes x florist!reader

|| warning : nothing !

|| wc : 3.6k

Ever since you’d found out about James - Bucky - being an Avenger, the two of you’d grown closer. He was more open about who he was, what he’d like. You learned he rather listens to old 40s music than the newer Taylor Swift, which was completely understandable. He wanted to learn how to bake the things his Ma made, muffins and cakes and all that jazz before the war. And when he’s alone in the Tower, he likes to put on soft music and dance to it, pretending he was back in the 40s.

You loved learning more about him, he went from an old customer to a friend, and now, you’d dare say he was one of your closest friends! Despite it barely being 2 months- ah, he was really growing on you. However, with your growing friendship, that also accidentally made it so you were neglecting your other friendships. Especially May, you were both very busy with work, and her being busy with her nephew as well. It was understandable that you both weren’t hanging out much, but you wanted to change that!

You invited May to go out to a cafe with you, one down the street from your flower shop, you knew the person who ran it, Finn.

“Thanks for this, May, gods, I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages!” The both of you hugged, you giving a small squeeze before letting her go and sitting down across from her. “How’ve you been? How’s Peter doing?”

“Oh, we’ve been doing just great! Peter’s been interning at that Stark place and he’s so excited about it, constantly working on stuff that’s supposedly on-” She raised her hands and did air quotes. “- the down low, y’know?”

A small chuckle left your lips as you sipped on the hot beverage in the paper cup you’d ordered, god Finn made the good stuff here. “How about you? You’ve been MIA so much! I was planning on bringing over some pot pie a few days ago, but Peter saw you coming home and said you looked like you were on the verge of collapsing!” May leaned on the table, her brows furrowed, etched with worry as she asked.

“I promise, I’m okay, really, work’s just been busy.” You gave a lazy shrug. It was true, that day you’d gotten 5 calls for special orders for weddings or funerals and such. Even then, you still had to deal with your other, in person customers. “It’s a lot, but I’m enjoying it.”

“If you say so..” She sighed and twiddled with the pastry in her hands before taking a bite. “Y’know, you need to take a break soon.”

“May-”

“I’m serious!” She huffed and chowed down on the pastry, a sigh of relief leaving her lips. “Oh, this is so good,” May muttered before shaking her head. “I can call Happy, get him to send you off somewhere nice, have a chill vacation”

“I thought you knew me better, May, I’m more of a home-body” You shook your head and laughed before processing.. Happy? Who’s Happy? “Wait, who’s-”

“Happy's uh.. Someone I’ve taken interest in.” Her lips were pulled into a sly smile as you gaped. Were you that absent you didn’t know your friend was seeing someone??

“Tell me everything!”

“Well, he works at Stark Industries and I met him through Peter,” She took another bite of her pastry. “He’s a really sweet guy, there’s some weird stuff, but ah, it’s casual”

“I’m really happy for you, May”

“Awh, shucks” She playfully swatted her hand in the air, feigning to be flustered. “How about you? Any guy friends? Maybe lady ones?”

Your face flushed and you shook your head, your eyes glancing outside. “No, no, been waaay too busy for that!”

“Oh, that’s so boring! How about this, I hook you up with someone.”

“May!”

“I’m just saying! You need to get out there, especially after..” May trailed off as your shoulders tensed. Your last relationship hadn’t ended well, cheating and whatnot. It broke you, even though it was a short relationship, cheating never felt nice. After a beat of silence, May cleared her throat. “C’mon! It’d be fun! Plus, Happy knows the Avengers, maybe you could go on a blind date with one of them!”

Your eyes widened at that.. James was an Avenger, well, sort of. Imagine going on a blind date with him, that’d.. Be a disaster. He knew you, you were just friends. No way you’d get hooked up with him.

“I-I’m way too busy for that, May, it’s a nice sentiment, but not for now.”

She just sighed and shrugged, allowing this topic of discussion to be dropped. The two of you started to talk about some random crap, how your other neighbors were loud.. In more ways than one, it was so annoying. How New York felt like it was the new warzone for aliens and Avenger level threats. God, it was a lot. But, it was nice to talk to May about this stuff. You loved her, she was a great friend.

–

After around 1 and a half hours of gossiping with May, the two of you went your separate ways, promising to do this again soon. Which you intended to keep! May had to go out and get some groceries, meet up with some of her co-workers and pick Peter back up from Stark Industries. Unless he gets a ride. You on the other hand? You decided to just head home, have a lazy day.

It was a Saturday, you’d already done your grocery shopping yesterday and the flowers back in the shop should be good until tomorrow evening. You needed to water them and make sure they weren’t wilted. In the meantime you walked back home and immediately bolted to your room to change into something comfy.

Once you put your comfy pjs on, you flopped on your couch and planted your ass on your couch as you watched mindless television. There was a rom-com sit-com playing on the screen, it was something you liked to put in the background as you crocheted, a hobby you recently picked up.

While you watched TV, the time passed as if hours were seconds and soon enough, the bright rays of light that seeped into your windows grew dimmer and dimmer. Soon enough, the evening had come and you were hungry as hell. With a small groan you pushed yourself off the couch and walked over to the kitchen. You didn’t feel like making anything complicated, so you opted for some instant ramen. With a clean motion, you grabbed a pot and put it under the faucet, turning the knob.. Nothing happened. No water, just a weird sounding sputter.

“What the hell?” Again, you tried turning it, nothing. Shit, was it broken? You put the pot down and squatted in front of the sink, opening the cabinet and looking at the pipes.. Yeah, you were out of your specialty with this. Usually, you asked May for help with this stuff, but as stated before.. She was busy. Shoot.

You sat on the cold ground of your kitchen apartment, looking to find any help from a plumber? You didn’t know who you needed for this. The prices were outrageous. Yeah no, you weren’t calling some professional.. You couldn’t exactly call up any family members.. Your only option left was James. Awh, man, you did NOT want to bother him, but.. You’re friends! He wouldn’t mind. With worried hands you dialed his number and put your phone close to your ear. Bucky was an Avenger! He’s probably busy with Avenger shit, here you are asking for sink help.

–

“Ha! You think you can beat me, little man?”

“.. I am a whole foot taller than you, Belova.”

Bucky and Yelena were currently playing cards together, something that Yelena had offered. She knew how out of depth this man was with the modern era. So, to help ease him into it, she offered to play cards with him every Saturday.. Plus, half the Avengers were busy doing something and she wanted to annoy someone new.

“Still, I am undefeated in the game of Gin Rummy. You know, Natasha taught me how to play when I was a kid!” She puffed her chest out in a proud manner.

“I was alive when Gin Rummy was made world wide.” He raised an eyebrow as Yelena made a “psh” noise and waved her hand in the air dismissively.

Before the two could continue the round, Bucky’s phone vibrated in his pocket, Yelena raised her eyebrow as he gave an apologetic look before standing up and walking out of hearing distance. When he saw it was your name, his heart started to beat just the smallest bit faster.

“[Name], what’s up?”

“James?” Your voice was quiet on the other line, nervous. “Heeeyy”

“You sound nervous, what’s wrong?”

“Well.. Oh, god,” He heard as you took a deep breath in and let it out. “I, uh, was trying to make dinner and I needed water to boil, and uh- my sink is.. Broken- and I didn’t know who else to call, my neighbors out, and I can’t pay for an electrician to help, can you..?”

You trailed off with your question, most likely out of embarrassment, Bucky suspected. Though, he didn’t know why you were embarrassed. “You need me to help?”

“Yes, please”

“Send me your address, I’ll be there quickly.”

“Thank you so much, James! I promise, I’ll cook you something when you fix it!” This made the corners of his lips quirk up. With quick goodbyes, he hung up and waited for your text. Once he saw your address, he recognized it. It was only a small ways away, with his motorcycle he’d be there in less than 10 minutes.

Bucky pushed his phone into his pocket and walked back over to the table where he and Yelena were playing. “I gotta deal with something, sorry to cut the game short.”

“Wha- oh, that’s ерунда, where are you going?” She pushed herself up and gave a small glare to Barnes as she watched him grab his jacket and keys.

“None of your business.”

“Oh, come on, Barnes, I won’t tell anyone.”

He just let out a huff, as a laugh type thing and turned around and walked to the elevator, giving a lazy wave to Yelena as he entered. “I’ll be back in a few hours, don’t trash the place.”

“No promises!”

With a ding, the elevator doors closed and he was going down to the parking garage. This was the first time he’d ever gone to your house, and his mind was RACING. I mean, it was just for friends. You guys are friends. Nothing more, nothing less. I mean, it’d be nice to be more, but no. To Bucky, you were someone who was soft, delicate, like a flower. He was some bulldozer who’d hurt you if he got too close. Not like he wanted to hurt you! No, he was just.. Worried.

As he got on the sleek, black motorcycle that Tony had given him as a peace offering, his mind started to calm as he drove. It was dark enough, just past sunset, so the streets were calm. No usual hustle of New York, no. It was peaceful, for once. The only thing he wished was that all the lights that were on during the night were off. There were bright billboards, bright neon signs that pointed to the nearest club. God, he loved clubs back then. They were nothing like what they were now. They were jazzy, sleek, elegant in its own rustic way, y’know? He missed that. The little things of the past.

Once he got to your apartment complex, he double checked the address before pressing the doorbell, or buzzer for you.

“Uh, [Name]?” He asked into the intercom.

“Hey, James! I’ll buzz you in! Again, thank you so muc-” Your voice got cut off as you unlocked the door for him.

Bucky walked through the empty halls of the apartment, his eyes darting for your apartment number. It was a nice place, better than the apartments back then. Even if Bucky was technically on the more rich side of things when he was younger, everyone had their struggles.

Once he got to the door that had your number on a bronze plate, he knocked on the door, and in a few moments there you stood.. Wow, man, maybe this was too domestic for him. You were in your cozy pajamas, a black, white and red flannel patterned pants and a black oversized shirt, cute mismatched socks that adorned your feet.

“James! Oh, thank god you’re here, c’min c’min!” You ushered him in and closed the door once he was fully in.

Bucky turned his head as his eyes darted around your home. It was.. Cozy, really cozy. There were thrifted paintings on the wall, and crocheted items on your couch. It was warm, but not overwhelming, just right. He stepped more into your living room as his eyes glazed over the photos. One was of your high school graduation, one of your family, one of some (he assumes) high school friends, as well as a photo of your university graduation, upon further inspection, your degree was business. There was one more photo, it was you, a brown haired lady and..

“Peter?” He muttered to himself as he looked closer to the photo, his brows furrowed in confusion. In the photo, you and May were on both sides of Peter as he stood in the middle, holding a first place trophy in his hand. A science thing, Bucky didn’t know. What he DID know was that you were friends with the spider boy's aunt and the spider boy.

“James?” You called out from the kitchen and that seemed to break him from his trance. He grunted and walked over to where you were. “Uhh, here’s.. The sink”

“What’s the problem with it?”

“It makes a sort of- fart noise when I turn it on”

The comparison made Bucky crinkle his nose and snort in amusement. He turned the knob, and yup, just like you said, out came the fart noise. Without the stink.

“This is an easy fix, I think it’s just clogged”

“Oh, so I’m just stupid,” You groaned and tugged at your hair. “I’m sorry for bothering you for such a simple issue of it being clogged.”

“You’re not stupid.” He huffed as he started to work on it. The perks of having a metal arm? He didn’t need any tools. Sure, it came with the trauma of falling out of a train, getting experimented on and being a weapon for 70 years, but ah, y’know how it is. “Steve used t’need my help with everything when we were younger”

“Yeah?” You sat on top of the counter as you watched him work.. Now you were not a pervert, but god, he had nice looking arms. The way it flexed under his jacket when he pulled or pushed on something. GOD, your friend was good looking. NOT THAT YOU WERE LOOKING! Aha.. totally not.

“Yeah, one time he broke one of the lights in his room as a kid, he was trying out some random item he got from the thrift shop and it backfired on him, needed it to get changed and clean up the shattered glass,” He spoke with a certain fondness in his voice as he worked on your sink. “I tried to help, he cleaned up the glass, I tried finding some extra light bulbs, but his old man found out and he told our ma’s. His mom and my Ma got pissed at us when they found out” He chuckled and pulled away from the sink.

“That should be good.” He had a small smile as he looked over to you. His heart beating quick as he looked over your face, you had the brightest smile on your face as you listened to his small story intently. You loved whenever he opened up about his past, even something as small or insignificant as that, it just.. Made you feel closer to him.

“Thank you, James.” You hopped off the counter and tried to turn the sink off, and miraculously it turned on! “Oh, thanks so much James!” With a wide grin on your face, you threw your arms around his neck and hugged him tightly. He stiffened at this but, with much hesitance, he hugged you back. After a beat of silence, you pulled away and filled up the pot from before. “I’m gonna make instant ramen, if that’s okay?”

“More than okay.”

You hummed in acknowledgement as you put the pot on the stove and started to boil it. “You wanna watch a movie? I have Netflix!”

“Uh, what’d you wanna watch?”

“Oh, I, uh, I was hoping you’d choose?”

He huffed and walked back into the living room. Despite being free for over three years and a half, he still wasn’t used to picking out things for himself, having options. Granted, two of those years were spent with the Wakandans rehabilitating him, but that’s just details.

Bucky scrolled through your Netflix, a small smile on his face as he saw in your recently watched documentary of ‘Captain America : The Original Avenger.’ He watched that documentary, it wasn’t super accurate, but it was better than the others.

“Whaddya think about a World War 2 movie?”

“So you can point out the inaccuracies?”

Bucky snorted and confirmed your assumption. You just rolled your eyes and laughed. The two of you grew into a nice silence as the documentary played. Bucky didn’t sit down on the couch though, he walked around the living room. Looking over the photos, still shellshocked at the fact you knew the spider kid.

–

After a little while, you and Bucky finally had the bowls of instant ramen in front of you as you both sat in front of the TV. Still, he’s pointing out the inaccuracies of the documentary. It was really amusing. Everytime he pointed something out, his nose would scrunch up and his brows would be furrowed just the smallest bit.

Especially if the documentary brought up the Howling Commandos, he’d get pissed at every inconsistency.

“We did not take down 50 men that day, it was 36, god they’re dramatic.”

“You remember?” You asked, your cheeks puffed out with ramen as you slurped it down.

“I remember every mission of mine before- uh, everything.” He took a sip of the soup and took a bite of the noodles. “That mission, Stevie was pissed ‘cause Pinkerton accidentally threw out one of the plans of attack. He got Sawyer to draw it up all over again.” Again, as he reminisced, there was a certain sadness in his voice. Despite it being a literal war, he remembered all the good with the Howling Commandos. They were like a family of his. “Obviously, Steve didn’t stay mad the whole time, just long enough for Pinkerton to grovel”

You snorted at that and finished up your food. Listening to every word of what he said. Usually, Bucky was more closed off, quiet, but when talking about his past. The good parts of his past, he seemed like a never ending sentence. He’d talk fondly of the Howling Commandos, his Ma, his sister Rebecca, and all the trouble he and Steve got into as teens.

Soon enough, the documentary ended and you and Bucky finished your food. He, in a quiet tone, offered to wash the dishes which you complied with. The dishes were one of your least favourite chores. As he washed, you both still talked.

“So how was your day?” As dry as that was, you had no idea how Bucky’s day was, especially being an Avenger. In turn, he gave a lazy shrug, his arms deep into the sink.

“Worked out from 8 to 12, uh..” He had therapy today but he was not going to tell you about that. “Had lunch with Steve and Natasha, no Sam ‘cause he’s out in Wisconsin.”

“Why?”

“Mission, heard some enhanced was causing trouble. He, Wanda, Clint and Banner went.” You hummed in acknowledgement then asked if he did anything else. “I.. Cleaned, I dunno. I don’t really do much around the Tower. Though, Yelena and I were supposed to play-”

He cut himself off and checked the time after he put away the last dish in the drying rack. Shit, it was already 11 PM, how did he not realize 4 hours had passed?? How did he not realize that the documentary was so damn long? Shit, Steve’s gonna ask questions when he gets back home.

“You needa go home?” You had a small smirk on your face, your eyebrow raised at his sudden cut off. With a twinge of embarrassment, he nodded.

“Sorry, just.. Being, uh, me-” He pointed to his metal arm. “People in the Tower don’t really trust me all too much just yet, so I hafta get home.”

“Nah, I get it, no worries, James.” You walked him out and at the door way he put his shoes back on and reached for the handle. Before stepping outside he turned to you one last time, sparing you a small smile.

“I had fun today.”

“Same, we should do this more often”

“Definitely.” He had a soft smile on his face as he stepped out and you closed the door. For a few moments, he stared at your door all longingly, as if he was some teenager who’d just snuck back out of his secret paramour's house.

With a small sigh he turned away from your door. His eyes locked with wide eyed brown ones. Ones that he’d seen way too often back at the Tower.

“Mr. Barnes?”

Of course it was the Spider kid.

|| WOOOOWEEEEE!!! i looove making everyone have connections guys !!! ALSOOO if you wanna be added to the taglist, i'd be more than welcome to add you :3

|| also, small thing, if the russian that yelena said was wrong, blame google translate, i know nothing abt russian

taglist : @iyskgd , @highhopes1008

'' flower shop of feelings ,,

[ 03 : distractions ]

|| pairing : james "bucky" barnes x florist!reader

|| warning : very VERY brief encounter with a gun , mission but barely talked abt

|| wc : 2.5k

The next couple of weeks went by like normal, or as normal as they coule. Both you and Bucky would text each other, sending small ‘good morning!’ texts as well as ‘goodnight’ ones. It made Bucky act as if he was a highschooler again, his heart all giddy every time a notification popped up on his phone- sure, he didn’t have a phone back when he was a teen but hush.

He really did enjoy texting you, it was definitely the highlight of his day.. But the more you texted, the more.. Attached, he's grown? Didn’t help that you’d both go out for coffee at least once a week. It was harder to hide himself from you, hide the fact he was living in the Avengers Tower, that he was.. Well, seen as the Winter Soldier.

You were just so sweet. Kind. He couldn’t tell you, his past was a literal nightmare. He’d done terrible things and-

“Hey, soldat, Steve, Sam and I are going to a museum, wanna join?”

“Why would I wanna go to a museum?”

“Maybe ‘cause you’re ancient,” Natasha snickered before shaking her head. “We’re going there ‘cause we got a tip that somethings going to go down. Might be big, wanna join?”

As much as Bucky wanted to say no and just lock himself in his room, he knew Steve would just try to drag him out. So, instead of fighting it, he nodded and sat up. Plus, maybe this could distract him from you.

–

In some “undercover” clothes, the four of them were walking around a museum, one that showed off arts and sculptures. Maybe in another life, Bucky would’ve found it interesting. But, they were just pretending to be enamored by the statuettes. No, they were on guard due to the fact they had gotten a warning from anonymous that some suspicious activity was going to go down. It could be some sort of drop-off of a weapon, magic shit, or maybe just stealing some art. Who knows?

Bucky stood besides Sam as they stared at some giant piece of art, it was a painting. A really well done one, actually. Oil painting of some sort of landscape with a bunch of people, the colors matched, the composition was wonderful, and the story behind it was deep.

“Think something’s actually gonna happen today, or just bad intel?” Sam kept his eyes ahead, as if analyzing the art in front of him.

“.. 10 bucks says something’s going to happen”

“10 bucks says it’s bad intel, I mean c’mon, it’s a Wednesday”

“What’s so not important about a Wednesday?”

“Why couldn’t it be on a Friday?”

“Maybe the bad guys were busy on Friday.”

Sam raised an eyebrow and just rolled his shoulder. “I’m gonna go over down the hall, check out the statues and make sure nothing’s going down.”

Bucky nodded and went back to looking up at the painting. Admiring the bumps and parts of the painting where the paint seemed to clump. Real pretty.

He turned from the painting and went the opposite direction of Sam. But the second he started to walk, he froze. Either this is a terrible coincidence or God wants to mess with him. Standing a few feet away from him was you. Shit shit shit! He can't be distracted by you. In a small panic, Bucky started to walk back, a few steps before he turned around and bumped into something.

Shit, all that ‘training’ went to shit, he bumped into a trashcan. Making a loud clatter noise, drawing everyone's attention, including yours. Now where was Sam in all this? That bitch was recording everything.

“James?”

Shit.

He turned slowly around, tugging at his hood and hiding his forehead. “Hey, [Name]..”

You just giggled at the strange coincidence that Bucky was here. In fact, you didn’t even mean to come to the museum today, a buddy of yours that worked there invited you to go, and since you didn’t have to open up shop today, you agreed! Funny how fate works! “What’re you doing here? You here with a friend?” You glanced around, it didn't seem anyone claimed to have gone along with Bucky.

“Admiring the art.” He let go of his hood before pushing his hands into his pockets. He couldn’t say that he was actually on some Avenger mission. You still didn’t know he was the Winter Soldier. And he wanted to keep it that way.. “What’re you doing here?”

“My friend just invited me, she works here, kinda just spur of the moment!” You scratched the back of your head as you looked up at the painting in front of you. “Plus, I didn’t have to open shop today.. Kinda a free day today.”

Bucky nodded and shifted in his spot. His eyes darted from you and back to the painting, just because the two of you have been texting for the last month didn’t mean he knew how to talk to you like a normal person. I mean, he was a good speaker back then right? He could.. He could try to act like that again, right?

“Hey! Since you’re alone.. And I’m alone, wanna.. Be alone together?” You shrugged, shifting your weight from your toes to your heels. Rocking front to back as you asked. “As cheesy as that is.”

The super soldier besides you looked over your face for a brief moment before looking around the hall. Looking for Sam, who was currently pretending to be interested in some sort of old statue. Bucky was sure he’s going to ask about who you were later, God, he’ll need to make up a lie.. That’s not even what he should be worried about, he should be worried about the damn mission they were on!

Your eyes softened as you looked up at his nervousness. Bucky was an.. Awkward person, but it was part of his charm, that’s why you like him. “Or, I could walk away, meet you back up later, and then pretend it’s a coincidence?” You cracked a small smile and kept your eyes on him.

Thankfully, the small joke you made seemed to make him visibly less like he’s about to explode on the spot. He gave a short nod before turning away and walked off. You didn’t mind, he was his own person, and you were yours, but man would it have been fun to be with him instead of alone.

–

The time passed by quickly, every other exhibit, you’d find yourself in the middle of a conversation with James. Though, he seemed to be on guard more and more each ‘coincident meeting.’ Again, you didn’t mind.

“Don’t get me wrong, I think it’s wonderful people are trying to be more- communicative with their mistakes with their partners, but seriously, I’ve gotten like 15 customers this week who wanted to buy a basic rose bouquet as a sorry present!” You tugged at your hair as you complained about work. Bucky didn’t mind, though, he’d rather listen to your voice than his. “I swear, if I get one more customer ask what’s the best type of flowers for apologizing to their partners for sleeping with their best friend, I’m gonna lose it!”

“It’s that common?”

“Uh, yeah, people are such assholes nowadays, can’t find a decent person to date, y’get desperate, then yeesh! You’re stuck with some asshole!” You waved your hand in the air as you brushed what you said aside. Truth be told, you hadn’t gotten into a relationship in the past.. Maybe 2 years? Even then, it was always casual. “That’s why I–”

RING! RING! EMERGENCY! EVACUATE TO THE NEAREST EXITS!

The blaring alarms cut you off as red lights danced in your vision. There were people screaming and guns firing, it seemed something bad did happen, and Sam owed Bucky 10 bucks. Bucky’s eyes darted towards the sound of the gunshots and started to run towards it, only to be tugged by your hand. Your eyes wide with worry and confusion as to why the hell your friend James was running towards the danger!

“James! What’re you doing?! C’mon, we hafta go!”

“I can’t–”

“Bucky, there’re 6 armed men near Sam and your location, Nat and I are taking care of the other 6” Steve’s voice came through into Bucky’s earpiece. “They’re trying to do a drop-off, some sort of Hydra weapon! Get the briefcase!”

“On my way.” Bucky replied as you stared up at him, your brows furrowed in even more confusion. What the hell was he doing?? “You need to get out of here, it’s not safe.”

“No, we have to get out of here! James, c’mon, you’re not some super he–”

You cut yourself off as your friend shucked his jacket off and blocked a bullet that was flying both your ways.. With his arm. A sleek, black metal arm. That’s when it hit you, that’s why he seemed so familiar. That’s why he was so secretive on where he stayed or not. He wasn’t just James. He was James Buchanan Barnes, the Winter Soldier.

“Holy shit.”

“Get out of here, I’ll-” James grabbed a gun from his holestor (Oh my god???) and shot at the ones who were shooting at the both of you. “I’ll find you outside.”

“.. Be careful” You muttered before turning away and running out to the closest exit. You didn’t know how to react, what to do with the newfound information. You felt so.. So stupid, not realizing that James was an Avenger. He lived in the Avenger tower- Oh my god, he was a super soldier.

With shallow breaths you turned a corner and your eyes locked to the nearest exit. You took a breath of fresh air as you felt the cold breeze hit your face, as if the museum was stuffed with smoke. It wasn’t, thank god, the people who arranged the attack didn’t seem to think to use fire power. It’s probably for the best.

As you stepped farther away from the door, a paramedic looked over you, you weren’t hurt, not shot, not even grazed. Thank god for.. James. You still couldn’t wrap your head around it. Whilst you sat on the edge of the sidewalk, waiting for the fight to die down, you pulled your phone out. You didn’t have many contacts, honestly you were.. Pretty alone. Parents? Only mom was left after dad passed. Siblings? An older, pretentious brother. Friends? You were pretty quiet in highschool, only the museum buddy of yours, who was Maria, she’s the one who gave you this death wish of an invite here. Then there was your other friend, who was in fact your neighbor, May and her nephew Peter. Nice bunch, you gave them flowers on their birthdays and they’d bring you some sort of baked good. Ah, but I digress.

Jeez. Maybe you’ll call up May, she’d probably know about this, plus, she told you Peter was an intern at Starks, right? Ah, but.. No, that wouldn’t do much good. He’s an intern, not some superhero. You kept scrolling through your phone for a few more minutes. You didn’t know how well of a promise James’ll keep, especially with him fighting people with.. Super weapons or something, but you stayed. Hoping he’ll keep to his word and try to find you.

After a long while, you heard claps and cheers from the citizens as the four of them brought all 12 of the villains out of the museum. They seemed hurt, but not to the brink of death, thankfully. The Cap was quick to hand them over to the police to take care of as the citizens slowly dispersed. People knew all about the hero's life, hearing it on the news and such, it was hard to be an Avenger. So, they needed space.

You waited as the crowds grew smaller before you took a few steps closer, holding your arms closely as you stood to the side. Watching as your friend's eyes darted around. It was amusing. Despite just saving a bunch of people, including yourself, he was still awkward.

“[Name].” He muttered, his voice light as a breath of fresh air as he spotted you. His shoulders seemed to sag in relief as he walked towards you. He should definitely be headed to the Avengers Tower, but right now he needed to make sure you were okay. “Are you hurt? They didn’t get you, right?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine, James, I-” You let out a small breath and placed your hands on your hips as you looked over at him. He had some blood on his jacket, some scratches on his face.. And that arm. Oh, wow, he.. Yup, he had a metal arm. “You.. Never told me you were an Avenger.” The corner of your lips tugged into a small smile as you chuckled.

He mirrored your smile, relieved at the fact you didn’t seem upset, or even the smallest bit scared. “You never asked.”

Your nose crinkled, “I asked what your job was, you said–”

“That I work as security.”

“Security for the whole world, James!” With that you started to laugh into your hand, this was unbelievable. This awkward man who’d stumbled into your flower shop looking for a gift for his friend was James “Bucky” Barnes.

“Sorry for keeping that from you, I just-” He shrugged and scratched the back of his neck. “I liked that you just knew.. Me.”

That made your heart melt. Everyone in the world knew James as “Bucky” or “The Winter Soldier.” The only people who knew him differently was Steve, only because he knew him back in the 40s and was his best friend and.. You. You knew him as James, and as much as the name felt weird, it felt right in your lips.

“Don’t apologize,” You hit your fist against his non-metal arm in a playful manner, an understanding smile on your face. “I get why you didn’t tell me. I’m not upset over it, if you’re worried.”

A small smile danced on Bucky’s lips and he nodded. “You’re too sweet.”

“Nah, I’m just a good friend.”

“Friend.” Bucky repeated to himself and nodded again. Oh he loved being your friend. He honestly thought the only friend he’d ever have would be from the Avenger Tower, and that’s only because they were Steve’s friends. “Ah, uh- I should probably-”

He pointed over to where Steve, Natasha and Sam were talking and you immediately understood.

“Oh! Yeah, no you go do that-”

“Thanks, uhm-” He stepped back and hesitated to turn away. “I’ll, uh, text you?”

“Yeah- Yeah!”

“Cool.” He nodded and turned away, the corners of his usually scowling lips quirked up as he repeated to himself. “Cool.”

He approached his team and just blended in nicely, no one seemed to notice him leaving and coming back. Perfect.

He spared you one last glance, as you walked away. Friend.

|| WOOO !! :3 FRIENDSHIP

'' flower shop of new feelings ,,

[ 02 : get a grip ]

|| pairing : james "bucky" barnes x florist!reader

|| warning : none , bucky's an awkward guy <3

|| wc : 2.2k

Clint’s birthday went wonderfully, at least, in Tony’s eyes. There was a big celebration in the Tower, lots of people were invited. Well, actually most of them were just Clint’s friends from SHIELD as well as the Avengers. Even Peter and his aunt were invited! It was a fun celebration.. Well, to everyone but Bucky.

It wasn’t like Bucky hated parties, no in fact he loved them! At least, he was supposed to, back in the 40s, he loved to go to parties before.. Everything. Ah, but now? He was sitting at the bar, silently drinking some alcoholic drink that wouldn’t make him even the slightest bit tipsy. The only people here that were completely sober were the spider kid, his aunt, and Bucky. Even Steve was drunk from whatever Asgardian drink that Thor had brought this time. Not that Bucky minded, he loved seeing Steve happy. No, what was bothering him was that the spider punk was bothering him now.

“Oh! And- and one time there was a bank robbery back home and they were all wearing masks of everyone- well, not everyone everyone. But! They were wearing Mr. Stark and Mr. Roger masks and other Avengers,” Peter rambled on, swirling his apple juice in one hand as he leaned against the bar table.

Bucky just nodded along with any story that Peter was talking about.. In all honesty, Peter reminded him of his little sister.. But more annoying.

“But I took them down! It was actually really easy! Except that they had this weird weapon, like really weird! It went all boosh!” He made finger guns and pointed them at Bucky. “Mr. Barnes?”

Bucky bit back a sigh and just grunted in response as he took another swig of vodka. Might as well have the strongest drink and not get drunk, right?

“What was it like back in the 40s?”

Bucky spared a glance over to Peter, his eyebrow raised. He didn’t expect this, didn’t expect curiosity from the kid. “It was.. Different.”

“Liiike?”

“Loud. But not like it is now.” Bucky shrugged, in all honesty, he didn’t remember much due to the whole brainwashing thing, but what he did remember were.. Pictures, sounds. He remembered the music and how it made him feel. He remembered things from his childhood. “Steve ‘n I used to skip school a lot. Steve, uh, hated doin’ it, but I forced him to.” Bucky chuckled as he remembered, maybe he was getting tipsy ‘cause usually he wouldn’t be so open about his past. Or maybe the kid was easy to talk to, easier than the other avengers.

“We used t’skip and go to the greasy spoon a block away from our school, buy an ice cream soda with two scoops for us both. If we were lucky, we’d run into some dames and take a powder to the nearest place we can go for a dance.” As Bucky reminisced of the past, his inner Brooklynn boy came out and he started spitting slang from back then left and right. He didn’t even realize until he turned back to Peter who had the biggest smile on his face, but was so confused.

“That sounds fun!” Peter chuckled and took a sip of his apple juice, an awkward silence forming between the two before he asked. “Do you miss it?”

Bucky took a second and shrugged, he didn’t know if he did. It was simpler, yeah, but nowadays he has freetime. Didn’t have to fight every second of the day when he woke up. Didn’t have to worry about HYDRA controlling him, sure, he struggled with episodes sometimes, but.. He had Steve, he wasn’t alone. Wasn’t in the trenches.

“I don’t miss the war if that’s what you’re askin’, kid”

Peter chuckled and opened his mouth to speak again before May tapped his shoulder. “C’mon, Peter, it’s getting late, you still have school tomorrow.”

“Awe, man” Peter huffed before jumping off the barstool. “I’ll see you later, Mr. Barnes!”

Bucky waved to both Peter and May, a small ‘bye’ leaving his lips before he turned back to his drink. Man, time to just be a wallflower and watch as everyone got absolutely buzzed.

–

The next morning came by in a flash, it helped that Bucky turned in early. Well.. Early was a stretch, he went to bed at 2 AM, even when everyone was still preoccupied with the festivities. When, said, man left his room at 8 AM, he found everyone passed the hell out on the couches.

He didn’t wanna wake anyone up, so he just went to the kitchen and looked for something to eat. Something about the modern days was that it was easier to cook something! Not just boiled, though he did miss the bread pudding.

“Shit.” he muttered to himself as he found out, yeah no the guests raided the kitchen.. Or maybe it was all the passed out Avengers. Might as well go on a run and get some groceries. He hated doing errands, but no one was telling him to do it, no pressure.. Might as well buy some stuff.

In a few quick moments, he put a hoodie on and a nice pair of jeans on with his gloves nicely placed on his hands. He didn’t like showing off his hands, let alone his metal arm. Hated scaring people. Bucky made his way down the Tower and left. Taking a deep breath in the early morning air, he walked down to the nearest grocery shop.. Which was 20 minutes away, or 25 on foot. He didn’t mind, he liked walking.

–

Soon enough, he made it to the grocery shop. With it being 8:28 AM, and being a Tuesday, it wasn’t too busy. In fact, there was barely anyone.. Barely anyone.

He made his way through the aisles, and there he saw.. The cute florist from before. Except no apron like before,, they were just wearing a lazy day outfit, they were struggling with grabbing something on the top shelf but god they still looked-

You glanced up and saw Bucky, a flash of confusion on your face before you snapped your fingers and pointed to him. A big smile dancing on your lips as you exclaimed, “James!”

“Hey-” Bucky stopped himself and cringed internally. He may have been non-stop thinking about you and your face, but he was an ass to not have asked your name. “Y-You..”

They’regonnahatemethey’regonnahatemethey’regonnahatem-

“Pff- ha!”

Instead of what Bucky assumed, you shook your head and started giggling at Bucky’s awkwardness. He looked so mean ‘n scary, but here he was acting like a huge dork!

“The name’s [Name],” You went back down from your tippy toes. Man, you were just really cute- DAMNIT! Get a grip, Sargeant. “Hey! You’re like a giant, think you can grab that for me?”

You pointed at the box on the top, which was a box of fruit snacks. Cute. “Yeah, sure.”

Bucky grabbed the fruit snacks, glanced at the cover.. It was Avengers inspired fruit snacks. He raised his eyebrow and looked over at you with a slight hint of curiosity. Embarrassed, you snatched the box from Bucky’s hand and shoved it into your basket.

“They’re good-” You muttered. “The snacks and the heroes, I mean.”

“You like the Avengers?”

“Who doesn’t?”

“The bad guys.” He shrugged, and you laughed.

You kept laughing for a few moments, Bucky was just.. Admiring you. The way the corner of your eyes wrinkled, the way your cheeks flushed just the smallest bit.. Man, why was he acting like this? Barely knew you, yet his mind was reeling. Sure, he flirted back in the 40s.. A lot, but.. I dunno, there’s something different about you.

“James?” Your voice snapped him out of his trance. Sure, he was absolutely enamored right now, but his face looked like he was just annoyed. “Wanna just shop with me? I-I’m probably just gonna get junk food if I’m alone, so-”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay!”

With a new pep in your step, you led him down the aisles. Checking over the produce section, he grabbed a few carrots, a package of lettuce. In turn, you grabbed some veggies as well.. It was more out of peer pressure (despite there not being any pressure), at least the plan was working. He inspired half of your purchases that day, and honestly, that’s a good thing. It seemed half his food was real healthy shit..

“Do you live alone?”

“Wha? Oh,” Bucky looked down at his basket before nodding. “I live with.. A lot of people”

“That makes way more sense, didn’t peg you for a-” You glanced into his basket and a small smirk tugged at your lips. “Pop tart, beer, and toast guy.”

Bucky shrugged and scratched the back of his head. He was just buying things from the usual grocery shop list. Pop tarts for Thor, beer for.. Half the Avengers, toast just for everyone, etc etc.

“My roommates are foodies”

“I can tell!” He watched as you hummed and grabbed one last item. “That should be good for me! You done?”

He nodded.

“Great! Where d’you live?” Bucky’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion as you realized what you said. “I-I’m asking ‘cause maybe after we pay I can walk you home! Or- somethin’.. I dunno, sorry-”

“Oh.” The tall man in front of you shuffled in his spot. “No need. I live a few blocks away, it’d be a hassle.”

“Oh, well, that sucks! I was hoping to talk with you more!”

Bucky walked besides you as you both walked to the self-paying cash registers. Man, your words made his heart start beating faster. How could you be so.. Smooth with this? Maybe you didn’t realize, it could just be something you see as platonic. He didn’t know.

“I can.. Give you my number.” Bucky muttered, he knew that’d be seen as flirty. Or at least hitting on you.. But, he didn’t mind. Maybe he wanted that? NO. No, Steve told him to make connections, this is just to make a new friend.

Your eyes lit up at the offer and you nodded quickly. Quickly finishing up at paying for your groceries and took your phone out. “You can put your number in my phone after you're done paying?”

Bucky nodded again. You watched as he put everything away and.. Okay, admired his arm. Even under the hoodie, you can tell he worked out. James was really handsome, but so mysterious at the same time! Not much of a talker, but you could do all the talking.. You wonder, would he talk in bed- NO WAIT! Get a grip, goddamnit. This was all supposed to be innocent, he’s just a new friend.

As quickly as your grocery shopping came, the two of you walked out, side-by-side.

“It was nice seeing you again, James!” You waved back and walked away, one new number in your phone.

–

By the time Bucky got back to the Tower, everyone was already awake, but hungover as hell. The only ones who weren’t super hungover were Steve, Natasha and Thor.

“Hello, one-armed man!” Thor waved over to Bucky and gestured him over to join, said, Steve, Natasha and him over to the kitchen table.

Bucky gave a short nod and put the grocery bags on the table.

“You better have gotten-” Natasha looked through the bags and let out a huff. Not of annoyance, one of thanks. “Thanks.”

She waved the bag of pistachios in the air before opening it and started eating them up. She loved pistachios.

“Man of one arm, you have done wonderfully!” Thor grabbed one of the three boxes of pop tarts and started eating one. “As thanks, I will make tea!”

Bucky nodded, even though he’d rather have coffee than tea, but he’d rather not correct Thor. He’s one of the only people who weren’t a part of the Civil war, the other was Bruce Banner.

“Thanks for the food, Buck,” Steve opened the bread and spread a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

Bucky just grunted in response and took a bite of a piece of bread in which Steve made for him. Just a simple piece of white bread with peanut butter. He took his phone out and checked it for a moment.. You texted him.

Florist : hey, james :3! sorry if this is quick, just wanted to make sure you had my number! if this isnt james this is rlly embarrassing

The corners of Bucky’s mouth quirked up, very quick, very faint. Didn’t last long, but he texted back.

James : It’s me, don’t worry. Hi, [Name], and don’t worry, this isn’t embarrassing.

“Buck?”

Steve’s voice cut him from his.. Trance of you. He hit send on the text before putting his phone away. “What?”

“Who y’texting?” The blonde leaned on the table and eyed him suspiciously. A small smirk on his face as he eyed Bucky.. He knew for a FACT the only people Bucky texted was Sam and him, and on OCCASION Peter.

“Nothing- no one. Don’t worry about it, punk.”

“You sure? You look pretty happy”

A small murmur came from Natasha as she leaned over to Thor. “He looks happy?”

“C’mon, you can’t lie to me, Buck, I’ve known you for years”

“Steve-”

“Is it a dame?”

“Shut it before I hit you, punk” Bucky glared at Steve and bit his bread before huffing. Steve rolled his eyes and put his hands up in defeat.

“Fine, fine.”

With that, he didn’t ask anymore. And Bucky decided; he’ll only text you when he’s alone.

|| i am quite enjoying writing for bucky <333 also, ily domestic avengers

'' flower shop of new feelings ,,

[ 01: the cute florist ]

|| pairing : james "bucky" barnes x florist!reader

|| summary : When Clint's birthday comes sooner than Bucky realized, Steve forced him to go buy some gift for Hawkeye. Figuring that flowers were an easy enough gift, he takes a visit to the flower on the corner of the street..

There, he meets a cute florist, someone who seemed to melt his cold heart. How will Bucky navigate this modern world romance? Will he allow himself to fall in love? If so.. How will he keep this from the team? And how will you react to him being the Winter Soldier?

|| warning : this is a series that im writing on both ao3 , im js posting this on tumblr cz why not? yk? also, every part im not adding the summary, it's js for this !!

|| wc : 1.7k

“C’mon, Buck, you have to get him a gift. He’s your friend.”

“No, he’s your friend, I doubt any of your friends actually still want me around.”

“Sam likes y-”

“Sam doesn’t count.”

Bucky and Steve had been going at it for the past while, it was Clint’s birthday tomorrow and Steve really, really wanted Bucky to get more used to the team. After the whole fallout with the Sokovia Records, everyone was lucky that it was put aside. Bucky’s crimes were pardoned as well as the majority of Cap’s team, but it was still real tense.

It was a wonder Tony let them all still live in the Tower. I mean, not all of them lived there. Thor and Loki came and went, Clint lived with his family in god knows where, Peter lived with his aunt but visited VERY frequently, and Wanda and Vision moved out to live on their own. Which is.. Completely understandable.

“Clint likes.. He likes you, I mean he was on our side, remember?”

Bucky shot a wary look Steve’s way, his eyebrow twitching up before rolling his eyes. “If I were to get Barton something, what does he even like? I know nothin’ ‘bout your friends.”

“.. It’d be safe to get him flowers.” Steve shrugged and stood up from Bucky’s desk chair, before this, Steve barged into his best friend's room and started interrogating him about the birthday. “Though, you could check in with Romanoff.”

With a quiet grunt, Bucky nodded and flopped back in bed as Steve walked out. He hated this. Well, hate was a strong word. It was strange to him, having this much freedom. He had the freedom to try to get closer to people, yet he didn’t.. Know how to. He’d forgotten. He was better at this back in his day.

–

“Flowers?” Natasha quirked her eyebrow up before she hit the dummy with a hard kick. She’d been training for the past hour or so, blowing off some steam. “Clint likes the basics, roses, lilies, y’know.”

“And you’re sure it’s a good idea?”

“He likes flowers, I think he’d like something more practical, but he’s probably not expecting much from you,” She punched the dummy repeatedly, giving it no time to try and bounce back. After a few moments, and ine final blow, the dummy flew across the room and tumbled down. “No offense.”

“None taken.” Bucky mentally checked that off.. Roses, lilies.. Basic flowers. Something practical. “What other things does he like?”

Natasha hummed and walked over to the dummy, carrying it back to the original spot as she thought. “Laura,” She could practically feel Bucky ask, so she cut him off. “Barton’s wife mentioned he wanted to get into carving. Maybe get him a knife for that?”

“Oh.” He nodded slowly and checked that down. “Thank you, Romanoff.”

“Call me Natasha,” She spared him a sideways glance and lazy smile before she went back to beating the crap out of some training dummy.

–

With some research (asking F.R.I.D.A.Y), Bucky found a small flower shop with good ratings, but not too many, meaning it was smaller. He didn’t like going out in the public all too much just yet. Felt too.. Vulnerable? He didn’t know. He just hated people.

Well, thankfully, he found a more isolated shop. It was a 15 minute walk from the tower, it was a flower shop that served as a bookstore as well. A real cute scene. A scene where Bucky felt out of place.

The small bell on the top of the door rung as Bucky swung the door open. He had a baseball hat on, his red henley, and a jacket to try and.. Hide who he was. Didn’t want some poor old lady to get scared when seeing him. (He assumed that the owner was some little lady.)

“Just a minute!”

Bucky froze at the voice, okay, didn’t sound like an old lady. He pushed his hat closer to his head as he heard shuffling from the back.

Instead of a little lady, he found you. You popped out of the back door, stack of boxes in your arms, and a big smile on your face. Charming, cute almost.

“Welcome to the Flower Parlor! How can I help y’today?” You recited what you said to other customers most likely, as you put the boxes down on the ground, on the other side of the counter.

As Bucky watched you straighten yourself out, your shoulders stiffened as you looked up at him. Oh god, he looked real scary. Baseball hat, dark jacket, looks like he’s gonna rob the place! Ah, but he wouldn't get much from here.

“I need help with a birthday gift.”

Oh wow, his voice sent a shiver down your spine. His voice was as if.. Well, you didn’t know, but it was really nice! He had- yeah, he had a nice voice, god get a grip.

“Ooh! Alrighty, tell me ‘bout the birthday person and I’ll gladly make a bouquet for ‘em! And a nice book to go along with it too!” In a swift motion, you grabbed some semi-transparent paper you used to make bouquets and watched him expectantly.

“Uh, he..” God, what did Clint like? “Likes.. Bow ‘n arrows.”

You raised a brow at the factoid Bucky dropped but didn’t question, instead, you grabbed some Hyacinths and placed them neatly on the paper, making sure to make it look pretty.

This kept going, he’d drop a factoid of Clint, you’d grab a flower. Hyacinths because they represented Apollo, who was the god of Archery. White roses to represent loyalty, A few hydrangeas because Bucky said he was a ‘family man’ and a few baby’s breaths to fluff it up a bit more and you were done! The bouquet consisted of a more purple and white color palette, in turn, you made the ribbon that held it together a dark purple.

“Oh, uh, thank you.” Bucky muttered as you handed the bouqet of flowers to him. He hadn’t held one since.. Well, almost 80 years ago.

“And a book, whaddya think your birthday guy likes t’read?”

“Oh- uh-” Bucky took a sharp breath in and shrugged.

To that, you let out a small giggle, running your hand through your messy hair before you looked on your bookshelf, trying to find some good book. Oh, but Bucky wasn’t paying attention to what he could be getting Clint, no, he stopped the moment that laugh left your lips.

Didn’t know why, but that laugh just stopped his thinking. It was so light, gentle. Man, no one at the Tower was this soft, the- the opposite actually. Yet here you were, actually laughing at Bucky’s confusion.. It wasn’t condescending, more amused, actually. God! Get a grip, James, you’re not gonna see ‘em again after this.

“How ‘bout a classic? The Hobbit? Or maybe Their Eyes were Watching God?”

“I remember reading The Hobbit.”

“Yeah? How’dya like it?”

“.. Don’t like wizards all that much”

Again, you snorted and started to laugh at his disdain to wizards. Which was fair, he wasn’t the biggest fan of Dr. Strange, but he liked him better than.. Well, a whole heck of a lot of people.

“Then how ‘bout Their Eyes were Watching God?” You put the Hobbit back on the shelf and walked up to him, extending your hand and handing the book to him. Your fingers touched momentarily, his gloved hand met your soft ones and Bucky’s mind blanked for a moment. God! He was actin’ like a schoolboy back when he found out Daisy liked him back in grade school all those years ago.

“Yeah, okay, yeah.” With a hurrid nod, Bucky took the book and held everything in his left hand, fumbling for his wallet with his right. “How much do I owe you?”

“It’s on the house.”

“What?”

“Eh, you’re a much better customer than I usually get,” You shrugged and pushed your hands in the pockets of your apron. “Usually I get assholes who wanna buy flowers after cheating on their partners.. Ah, you’re here for a friend though! So.. Yeah, on the house”

“I can’t, lemme just-”

“Really, you’re fine-”

“I insist-”

The bell of the door jingled and cut you both off, you yelled out “Just a minute!” just like you did for Bucky. A small smile on your face as you turned back up to the man in front of you, who was still grabbing a $20 bill and shoved it to you.

“Oh-” You sighed before letting out a small snort. “Fine, you win this time, Mr..”

“James.”

“James.” You repeated and took the bill, pocketing it into your apron. Heart bearing as you nodded to him and backed away. “Well, I hope your friend has a good birthday. It was nice meeting you, James.”

Bucky gave a small smile and nodded as he walked to the door. The bell jingled again as he opened it. “Thank you.”

And with that he left.

–

Bucky’s heart was still racing as he got back to his room at the Tower, get a grip, soldier, can’t act like a fucking teenager. And as much as he hated it, he was an avenger! He can’t- oh god.

“Buck?” Steve’s voice was muffled as he knocked on Bucky’s door before opening it. His eyes flickering to the bouquet on his night stand and back to Bucky. “Hey, that’s real nice! Flowers, told you it was a good idea”

“Shut it, punk” He muttered and pushed his face into the mattress.

“Someone’s moody,” his best friend muttered. “What’s wrong?”

The second the question left Steve’s lips, Bucky shook his head and sat up, running a hand through his hair and his expression hardened. Get a fuckibg grip, Sargeant.

“Like I said, nothing.”

It was so clear that Steve didn’r believe it. But, with how things had recently been, he didn’t wanna push it.

“Well, how was getting the flowers?”

“Good..” Bucky glanced at the flowers and immediately remembered how gentle your hands were. Placing them down strategically and quickly, but with the elegance of a dancer. “Really good.”

“.. You’re acting weird” Steve huffed with a chuckle. “C’mon, let’s go on a run, you needa clear your head up.”

Bucky nodded and stood up from the bed. He was fine with being told what to do, it was easier than having his freedom.

Easier than thinking of the cute florist.

|| FIRST PART IS POSTED! after i post all the parts i've already made, ill post a masterlist of the parts :)

'' INSOMNIACS,,

|| pairings: james "bucky" barnes x gn!reader

|| warnings: neighbor!bucky, fluff

|| wc: 0.9k

You weren't a stranger to staying up late, the endless scrolling, the endless daydreams. It wasn't like it was a choice, you did try going to sleep, you REALLY did. But it didn't work, it ended like your last few attempts. Restlessly staring at the ceiling. You hate nights like these. So what do you do? You push yourself off the bed and grab your comfiest hoodie to head up to the roof.

You liked the roof of your apartment complex, it was quiet, birds came to visit, and the old lady across the hall planted flowers and veggies up there. Overall, it was a very peaceful place. Especially for nights like these.

As you pushed the cool metal door to the roof open, the cool night air hit your face. It wasn't harsh or rough, more gentle. Like a ghost coming up and pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose.

With the small slap of your flip-flops, you made it to the edge, overlooking the city with a small smile on your face. Unaware of the steel blue eyes watching you from behind. James Buchanan Barnes, or Bucky as you've heard people say, stood motionless in the door way.

Why were you there? Why were you at the edge? Why were you on the roof at 4 in the fucking morning? His place to go after nightmares? A small huff left his nostrils as he tried to walk as quietly as he could to a different part to the roof. Looking over the edge as well, unlike you, not seeing the beauty, but seeing the possible destruction he could have caused. Even though he was broken from the Winter Soldier, even though he was free, he still–

"Bucky?"

Your voice cut through the stillness of the night, your brow quirked up in curiousity as you stared at him. He was a few feet away from you, but you could still see him. Despite his best efforts. Wait- how did you know his name? He just grunted in response.

"What're y'doing up here?" Worry etched in your tone. You knew you weren't going to jump, but Bucky was standing reaaal close to the edge. It made you worry.

"Couldn't sleep." Short 'n sweet.

"Ah. Same."

Though, Bucky's answer was.. A lie. He could sleep. In fact, he slept a little too well. Those nightmares tried to cling to him for as long as they could until he forced himself back into the world of the living.

"I come up here." Again, you cut through the silence. "A lot, actually. Insomnia-" You twirled your finger and pointed at yourself before clearing your throat. "'ve tried melatonin, doesn't work, I've tried white noise, doesn't work, I've tried everything anyone's ever recommended, and guess what-"

"Doesn't work?"

You smile up at him as he finished your thought. "Exactly right, neighbor."

A comfortable silence broke between the both of you, it wasn't stuffy or overbearing. It was nice. Calm, actually, one of calmest nights Bucky's had in a while. Usually when he had nightmares he'd just sit on the floor and stare at the wall, dissociating and what not. Today, he decided, maybe just maybe, he just needed some air. Maybe if he took a few deep breaths on the roof, he'd clear his head. Maybe feel better. Maybe have no nightmares, nor dreams. Just a pitch black head as he slept.

"You have that cat right?" Again, you cut through the silence, Bucky was determined to stay as quiet as possible. He didn't like hearing his voice, maybe he just needed to hear yours. "Yeah, the white one? She's real cute, sometimes she visits my apartment, y'know cause our windows are real close to each other? She uses the back stairs to uh, climb over."

Bucky knew of his girls curiosity and how she'd climb out the window to explore. At first, he was worried and would lock the window, but that just left her to yowl at it.. And it made him feel bad. Felt like he was HYDRA and Alpine was him, messed him up for a bit.

"She steals my snacks, I don't mind though! I mean, she doesn't steal 'em, I give them to her!" You fidgeted with your hoodies drawstrings, a nervous smile on your face. "Sorry if I'm ruinin' your calm and talking too much, I talk a lot, I know it gets anno-"

"It's not annoying," Bucky's eyes looked over to you, his gaze soft as he kept his hands in his pockets. "I.. I don't really like the quiet. Feels stuffy, I'd rather you talk."

This made you smile wider, your hands started fidgeting and twirling your drawstrings even more. "Awesome, so uh-"

You started to ramble on about your latest interest, and gradually the two of you would end up sitting down on the roofs floor, your backs leaning against the railways of the roof. Bucky's eyes still locked on you as you kept yapping, as the hours passed by, you grew quieter and quieter, and soon enough? You fell asleep. And much to Bucky's surprise, he fell asleep as well.

Yes, it was at 4 AM, but the both of you would wake up at 8, 4 hours is better than nothing or nightmare-filled sleep! Bucky'll have to find you on the roof again tomorrow night.

Your voice seemed to be the only thing to calm his mind.

|| i love writing for bucky, it may be SUUUPER ooc, but idk, hes silly, i love him, current comfort character (as well as keigo, dw my mha fans i still love him)

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.

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.”

😭😭HELP KAKSKSKS

In tears😭

Hey darling! I loooove AHMBI (and fuck you Ophelia, you bitch). But I'm not doing very good, my dog is really sick and I'm heartbroken💔. If requests are open, can I ask for one where reader's pet is sick and how Bucky comforts her or something? ( could be Alpine too, if you want). If not, that's okay, I'll love you regardlles♥️ I always look foward to your fics 🥰♥️

I’m so sorry this took me so long to get to, my darling. It has been in the back of my head since you sent the ask and I just haven’t taken the time to get it out. So, Hurricane Ida has freed up some time for me to work on it. I hope you enjoy.

Pairing: Bucky x Female Reader

Trigger Warning: Death of a pet

Despite the rain, you cracked the window leading out to the fire escape, knowing your visitor would be here soon. Technically, your dog’s visitor. Your fifteen year old daschu-huahua-terrier, Sir Didymus (Didy for short) had fallen in love with a beautiful white cat that would show up on your fire escape nearly daily. They would sit on opposite sides of the window and calmly watch each other.

One beautiful day, you had the windows open to air out your apartment when the cat dropped right in and curled up with Didy on the couch. They had napped together, played, and cleaned each other before a gruff voice could be heard calling “Alpine!” The cat, who you now guessed was named Alpine, scurried out the window and down the fire escape. You had looked down to see if you could identify her owner but saw no one. From then on, you left the window cracked enough for her to shimmy through after you got home from work each day or around that same time on the weekends and, like clockwork, Alpine showed up. When her owner called out for her, she left again. She rarely missed a visit and you had begun to wonder about her owner after this went on for the better part of eight months.

Each time you caught one of your male neighbors at the elevator, the mailbox, or the laundry, you wondered if they were Alpine’s owner. You had finally determined that she lived in the apartment three floors below you and you knew her owner had dark hair as you had seen his head before he ducked back in once, but you thought it would be strange to follow her down. Your innate awkwardness kept you from asking around but once you’d determined that he lived in 4E you began taking more notice. The mailbox said Barnes on it and you wondered if it was the absolutely gorgeous hunk that you’d only ever caught a glimpse of. He was elusive and the one time you’d ridden the elevator with him he had flashed a set of baby blues that could drop panties from 50 paces before asking you what floor. You had stammered your response and spent the rest of the ride with your face in your phone hiding your embarrassment.

Tonight, as you crack the window, you feel like the world is crying with you. You had taken Didy to the vet after she had seemed to sleep a lot more lately and wasn’t eating as much. Your longtime veterinarian had walked in with a somber expression that was not her usual demeanor and your stomach had dropped as your worst fears were confirmed. Your constant companion of the last fifteen years was dying and there was nothing you could do. The sweet pup who had seen you through so much in life, broken hearts, a new city, job changes, everything, probably wouldn’t last the night. You nodded as tears streamed down your face and took Didy home for one last night together.

You heard a gentle “reow” as Alpine jumped through the window and cuddled up beside Didy. You petted her and explained the situation while bawling yet again. Alpine turned and licked Didy’s cheek as if understanding everything. You sat beside them, petting them both and telling Didy how much you love her. Alpine purred as she lay with her dying friend and you knew that somehow the sweet cat did understand.

“Alpine!” the call came from your neighbor but, unlike every time before, Alpine stayed put. Her head turned to the window for a long moment and then she nestled in beside Didy for a nap. His voice called her name several more times and even though you felt bad for him, you just couldn’t bring yourself to leave them.

Forty-five minutes later, there is a knock on your door. You keep one eye on Didy as you answer it and are not surprised when your neighbor is on the other side.

“Hey. I’m Bucky. I live on the fourth floor. This is kind of awkward but I thought I’ve seen my cat come out your window before and she hasn’t come home. Have you seen a white cat? Her name is-”

“Alpine. Yeah, she’s here. I’m sorry I heard you calling but I didn’t want to leave-” your voice broke and the tears started again. You covered your face for a second to gather yourself before continuing, “Sorry, um, your cat has befriended my dog. She comes and hangs out with him every evening until you call for her. Um, but, we got some bad news today and Didy, my- my dog, probably won’t make it through the night. I’m sorry, please come in. I don’t mean to keep you out in the hall while I bawl in front of you trying to explain.”

“That’s okay, doll. If you need her to stay, I understand,” Bucky says softly.

“Really, please,” you back away from the door and wave him in. You tell him your name as he follows you to the couch where you sit next to Didy and Alpine.

“So, uh, how did this happen?” Bucky asks as he looks at the two curled up together.

“About eight months ago, Alpine showed up and just sat by the window watching him,” you say as you pet the sleeping dog, “One day the window was open and she came right in. They’ve been fast friends ever since.”

“I’ve been wondering where she disappears to everyday.”

“Yeah. She, um, she seems to understand what’s happening and doesn’t want to leave him. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all. Gotta ask, though, doll. You always invite strange men that show up at your door into your apartment?”

“Your Alpine’s owner. She’s a pretty good judge of character,” you smile at the cat who is sleeping peacefully.

“That’s true.”

“She gave me very clear advice about my last boyfriend,” you chuckle at the memory.

“You gotta tell me,” Bucky grins.

“He came by for a visit and she was hissing at him everytime he got near me, her, or Didy. Which made Didy start barking every time. That was strike one. Then he turned to me and said how he hated animals. Strike two. Then he went on to say that if we move in together I’d have to get rid of them. Strike three. Threw him out immediately. And then ate all of the pork dumplings and Thai food we’d ordered by myself. Well, they might have helped me eat some of the drunken noodles.”

Bucky was chuckling as you told the story. You turned back to look at Didy and your face fell, knowing how little time you had left with him. Seeing your sad face, Bucky stood up saying, “I’m gonna go grab Alpine’s food. Do you mind if I come back in a bit?”

“Yeah, of course. Feel free to just come in. I’ll leave the door unlocked.”

“Don’t you dare. This is a dangerous city, doll. Lock it behind me and I’ll knock when I get back.’

“Okay,” you smile at his sweet chivalry.

Thirty minutes later, Bucky knocks. You open the door to find him holding a cat bowl, cat food, a bag full of Thai food, and another bag filled with several types of treats.

“What’s all this?” you ask, surprised.

“Food for Alpine, food for us, and some sweets. Oh, and a treat for Didy.”

“That’s so nice of you. You really didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to. Plus, if you’re anything like Alpine you get cranky when you don’t eat.”

“It’s like you know me already.”

Bucky stays on the couch with you through the night. He makes sure you eat something, tells you stories about Alpine, asks questions about you and Didy, and consoles you when Didy crosses the rainbow bridge around 3 in the morning.

Over the next couple of weeks, Bucky and Alpine visit every day. Often with food. The two of you talk, learn more about each other, laugh, watch movies, and just enjoy the building of a friendship. Of course, you also develop a massive crush on the gorgeous man. The first night they don't show up at your apartment, you knock on their door with a pizza.

"Hey! I have this large pizza and I was thinking you could help me eat it," you smile but then notice the blond man standing behind him. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't realize you had company."

"You must be the neighbor he's been going on about. I'm Steve. This jerk's best friend," he smiles broadly at you while Bucky's cheeks turn pink.

"Hi. If it was good things, then yes, definitely me," you wink at Bucky.

"All good things. He's pretty enamored with you," Steve smirks.

"You're such a punk," Bucky growls. "Come on in, Doll."

You grin as you start to walk past him but pause long enough to whisper in his ear, "The feeling's mutual."

Bucky finally did ask for that date after Steve left for the night. You dated for six months before moving in together. A year after that, Bucky proposed with the help of Alpine and an adorable rescue puppy that you named Ambrosius.

And Didy smiled down on you as he watched from across the rainbow bridge, knowing that he had held on long enough to bring you the love of your life.

This way...

Masterlist

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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.

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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.

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

7

joaquin post cabnw

THIS IS SO SWEET😭😭😭😭😭💓

Best Laid Plans

Lee Bodecker x Female Reader

When your plans for the town's Easter egg hunt go awry, you find help from an unlikely source...

This is for the lovely's @buck-star 's Easter Special ! Felt very inspired so started this earlier this afternoon and it just flowed! Way longer than planned lol sorry.

Character: Lee Bodecker

Trope: 🌷 Enemies to lovers

Prompt: 🐰 Easter egg hunt

Wordcount: Approx. 3.9k

No major warnings. I have also been deliberate vague about when this is set - so it's up to you! Hope you enjoy - as always I love hearing your thoughts ❤️

🐰

A satisfied grin spread across your face as you arranged the model chicks and bunnies, a sea of pastels brightening up the tired storefronts amongst the floral arrangements you’d already hung. Perfect. You smoothed down your polka dot sundress as you took in the scene. Just beyond the storefronts were the stalls for the fair later, selling everything from lemonade to chocolate, handmade crafts and freshly baked goods. A few of the vendors had started to set up, but there was still a nice amount of time before people would start to arrive. You’d given yourself a wide margin to prepare everything, hopefully you’ll have a little downtime to relax before the festivities began.

Your vision was finally all coming together. It was touch and go there for a while, especially with the well-meaning-but-pretty-useless Jake as your helper, but it was actually starting to pay off. It actually looked…good! Especially for a smalltown fair. You couldn’t wait to see the kids’ faces when they arrived later.

“Looks like the Easter bunny threw up out here,” someone chuckled from behind you.

Your smile dropped as you turned to face the culprit. But you already knew who that smooth voice belonged to.

Ugh. There he was. Again.

His uniform looked surprisingly crisp for him, stretched over his broad shoulders. He must’ve finally given the iron a try. Or maybe he’d convinced old Mrs O’Malley to help out a busy bachelor. You could still spy the curve of his stomach peeking out over his waistband from under the starchy white shirt. Not that it mattered, you normally liked a hefty man.

Just not this hefty man.

He stood there confidently surveying your handiwork, like a judge at a dog show. His sheriff badge caught a flicker of morning sunlight as his mouth pulled into a pensive sneer. He was normally quite handsome, not that you’d ever admit that. He had a gorgeous smile on the rare occasions you saw it, almost boyish in contrast to the severity of his short hair and tense jaw.

“Very funny, Sheriff Bodecker,” you replied in a deadpan tone. “Come up with that one all by yourself?”

He leaned on the roadblock barrier and chuckled. “Yeah. Spent all morning workin’ on it,” he grinned devilishly as he manoeuvred the toothpick in his mouth from one side to the other, his eyes alight with mischief. Lee Bodecker had the most beautiful blue eyes, you’d noticed…

…Shame the man they belonged to was utterly insufferable.

“Glad my tax dollars are going to good use…” you sighed as you moved to collect the baskets for the egg hunt.

“Hey, you’re gettin’ free labour from my men and a whole street closed off for your little Easter party here, maybe save me the sass,” he scoffed. You didn’t like the patronising hand gesture he used to emphasis ‘little’.

You sighed incredulously, continuing to arrange the baskets, “it’s not my Easter party. And it’s a fair by the way. And it’s for the whole town. It’s about community, being together – whether you celebrate Easter or not. A little morale goes a long way…”

He rolled his eyes “Mm. Well the residents who lost their parking spaces to the roadblock this morning certainly didn’t have much morale when they came to bitch at the station about it…”

Now it was your turn to roll your eyes. You turned to him again, one hand on your hip and the other clasping one of the little yellow baskets which you pointed at him accusatorily. You knew exactly who he was referring to. That same vocal minority had also come to PTA meetings, written angry letters to the school – and once even ambushed you at the market. They seemed unmoved that it was a joint effort from the school and the church to do something nice for the town. The way they reacted, anyone might think you were responsible for evicting them from their houses, not using their preferred parking spaces for a few hours. You’d already repeated the same arguments so many times that you could probably recite them in your sleep. You were simply sick of talking about it, which you quickly made clear to Lee.

“Listen here, Sheriff. I’m going to tell you what I told all of them. It’s one day. One. We gave them plenty of notice about it, explaining it was so the kids could do the Easter egg hunt without the fear of getting mowed down, and folks can set up their market stalls with plenty of space. God forbid they park in that lot a few streets over and walk the short distance to main street – they can all fit in there, we’re not exactly New York City levels of population here in Meade…And most of them walk to town anyway!! Besides, the district owns those spaces, not them – just because they park in them most days when they come to shoot the shit at the barbers doesn’t mean they’re theirs.”

A little sharper than you had anticipated, but it did the job. You exhaled, trying to calm yourself down as you felt yourself get riled up.

Lee smirked, cocking his head to the side as he studied you. “Wow. Is that how you talk to your students when they act up? Or is it just me that the local schoolteacher likes to put in his place?” his voice was low, almost a purr.

You didn’t like the strange flush that he somehow brought to your cheeks. You briefly felt off balance. You needed to shake that off.

“My students know how to behave,” you quipped. And just like that, the flush had gone. The familiar irritation had taken its place.

The two of you stared at each other for a moment, a strange buzz between you that you couldn’t quite identify. You felt that with him sometimes. You didn’t know why. Maybe it was just anger.

His eyes were on you so intensely it seemed like they could tear a hole in your skin.

Then he just laughed. The irritation burned through you, down to your bones.

“Why are you even here? The roadblock is up, nothing starts officially for another couple of hours…” you shrugged. “Surely the Sheriff has better things to be doing than supervising me putting up toy bunnies…” you muttered.

“Wow…so much for community and morale,” he replied in a mock-outraged tone.

You didn’t know why you let him get to you so much. You didn’t know why he did get to you so much. It had always been this way with him, nothing but a sliding scale from feisty jibes to outright loathing.

You weren’t like this with anyone else. You were a schoolteacher, priding yourself on being approachable and kind – a figure in the community who was happy to be a listening ear, who took her responsibility for the town’s children and their education very seriously. You were heavily involved in the church, in the PTA, volunteered at the old folks’ home when you had time. This strange feud with the Sheriff was the one misshapen puzzle piece that didn’t fit with the rest of the picture. A fault by the manufacturer.

And it had been like this since day one, since you moved to town just over a year ago. You had been keen to meet the local Sheriff, hoping to ingratiate yourself with him and work together to benefit the community – but he’d shut you down almost immediately when you’d introduced yourself at a town meeting. He’d lazily looked you up and down in a way that could only be described as with contempt. Your smiled had faded as he introduced himself with disinterest, moving back to talk to his deputies like you were some chore he couldn’t wait to finish. You had no idea what you’d done wrong.

Since then, you had just never met eye to eye. Never been on the same wavelength. He just had a way of getting under your skin, of draining your patience in a way that even a rowdy group of six-year-olds couldn’t pull off. Although you generally aimed to always be the bigger person in life and rise above petty things, Sheriff Bodecker seemed to be the exception to that philosophy. Maybe his dismissal of you before he’d even properly spoken to you was what provoked such strong feeling, but you couldn’t explain the inevitable descent every time you met him.

You bickered every time you crossed paths. Arguing in line at the market, squabbling in the street, once there had even been (hushed) strong words at the back of church during a service.

You’d turned up to the station one afternoon to meet with Deputy Carter about arranging a school safety talk and the officers on the front desk had audibly sighed knowing what was going to happen. The whole town was aware of this rivalry, and just sort of took for granted that this was just how things were with the Sheriff and that schoolteacher.

…and yes. The officers were right. You and the Sheriff had managed to get each other’s backs up after a mere few minutes because you had laughed a little too loudly when his hat briefly slipped off his head. Business as usual.

You couldn’t really admit it to yourself. But maybe you also kinda enjoyed it. Just a tiny bit. Sometimes.

“Oh whatever…” you hissed, trying to focus on the task at hand. You didn’t have time for this, you can’t let Lee distract you when you have so much still to do. “Go. Stay. I don’t care either way. I need to hide the eggs and-”

You froze as you tugged at the trash bag containing the coloured eggs that you were going to hide for the hunt. It didn’t feel…right. The weight was off. It didn’t sit like a bag of small toy eggs.

You untied the bag and gasped when the contents were revealed.

Not eggs.

Not even close.

…a bag of trash.

You let out a pained moan as you fell to your knees, rifling through the bag in the weak hope that the eggs were at the bottom, and someone had put trash in the wrong bag by mistake. But no. Not a one there.

How could this-

And then it all fell into place at once. Jake, the enthusiastic but somewhat hapless school coach who had offered to help with the planning. Yesterday, after school you’d given him the eggs as you bagged up the classroom waste bin…he then offered to take it out for you as he was parked near the dumpster…so he must’ve mixed up…

Oh.

Oh God.

…And trash pick-up had been early this morning.

Those eggs were long gone.

Even if by some miracle you managed to somehow track them down, they’d most likely be crushed by the truck anyway – or all mixed in with the town’s other garbage. Covered in God knows what.

You stomach churned. You thought about the kids in your class, how excited they were about the hunt. They’d all been talking about it for weeks, all claiming they were going to win and find the most eggs – win the ‘mystery prize’ that the flyer tantalisingly offered (a brand-new bike, sponsored by one of the richer families in Brewer Heights. You had been so proud to source that).

How could you let them all down? See the disappointment on their little faces when they realised?

You couldn’t.

So, you switched into problem solving mode. As satisfying as it would be to tear Jake a new one for his mistake, that wouldn’t help the kids. Where could you get more eggs? You had already bought out almost the entire supply locally to ensure as many kids as possible could participate. You could drive to another town, but would you make it back in time? What if they were sold out too? This close to Easter…how many eggs were going to be left in stores exactly? Would they even be open? A lot of places had already closed up to spend time with their families. It was that way around these parts, these were mom and pop operations - not national chain stores. You could call ahead but-

“Well. That’s gonna be a weird egg hunt,” Lee interrupted your internal monologue as he toed at the now ripped open bag of trash. “I know the school budget has been cut, but damn…”

You closed your eyes. You’d been so caught up that you’d almost forgotten he was still here. “Just…not now, please,” you snap without looking up.

“Didn’t need to close the street just for you to hide garbage. Ain’t that just littering…?” he chuckles.

You look up at him, tears of frustration swimming in your eyes. “Coach Jensen must’ve switched the bags by accident,” you say softly.

Lee furrows his brows, his ever-present smirk shrinking as he takes you in. Maybe for the first time ever. His features soften as he starts to absorb that look on your face. The look that tells him this is serious. “That guy’s an ass…” he replies, his voice low.

“Yeah, I know,” you whispered. “God…The kids are so excited…”

“You can’t just call it off?”

“No!” you said incredulously. “This is all they’ve been talking about in class, all through school! I can’t just cancel it. I just need to figure out how to find more eggs before the hunt. There’s none left in our store but maybe I could drive to the next town over…”

He put his hands on his hips, his stance authoritative like he was doing a traffic stop, or talking to a perp. He checks his watch. “At this hour? You won’t make it back in time…”

“Thanks for your help Sheriff, as always,” you snarl.

He sighed defeatedly. “Could you just…hide something else for them to hunt? Matchsticks or something? I dunno…”

“It’s Easter! They were promised eggs!” you huff, “what kind of easter egg hunt would that be?”

You are unable to stop the few tears that break through the barrier and onto your cheek. You’re just so frustrated, so tired after staying up late to prepare all of this. And all your hard work is coming unravelled because of a few lousy eggs and a feckless man who doesn’t check garbage bags.

God, what a mess. Why do you even care so much? This is silly. Mistakes happen. The town will understand.

Right?

“Hey, hey,” Lee coos gently and takes a step closer to you, “don’t get upset…it’s just eggs…” His voice is softer than you’ve ever heard it, it barely sounds like him at all.

You feel a wave of shame, mortification that he is bearing witness to this. The unfamiliarity of his tone is so unexpected, so jarring, that it adds to your embarrassment rather than soothes it. Why did he have to be here? Why him of all people? And what, he pities you now? More ammunition for his side in your little war – the silly, emotional teacher who cries over easter eggs. A chink in your armour, vulnerability for him to mock and dine out on for years to come…as if he didn’t already think you were a fool…

“It’s not just eggs,” you reply dully. Your eyes lock onto his. He simply doesn’t understand how important this is. How many children are counting on you. He doesn’t understand anything about you.

You turn away from him, taking a deep breath as you quickly wipe away your tears with your knuckles. You won’t let him have any more of you than you’ve already given. You shakily get to your feet.

“I’m gonna go around to a few parents’ houses and see what I can find,” you say out loud, more for you than for him. To anchor you, make you feel like you have a plan – however weak. “I should be able to rustle up some from their Easter decorations at least. I’ll be back to finish setting up”.

Lee stares at you. It seems like he has more to say, but he remains quiet. He clears his throat, nods. “Uh. Alright. Well, I’m going to go back to the station. Check on a few things. Good luck…with the eggs…it’ll work out.”

You nod, but don’t turn around as you leave him behind. You don’t believe him.

🐇.•*¨`*•.¸ 🐇.•*¨`*•. 🐇¸.•*¨`*•. 🐇

A little while later you make your way back to the fair. You feel so downtrodden that there could almost be rocks in your pockets, every movement takes effort and energy you no longer possess. You dread every step closer as you trudge heavily across town.

Despite a committed campaign, working your way across several neighbourhoods, you were only able to source a pathetic few eggs. Nowhere near enough to sustain a full-on egg hunt for all of the town’s children. Maybe even neighbouring towns if word got out. You check your watch; and you’re running late, too. You were going to have to explain to dozens of disappointed kids (and their angry parents) why their most anticipated Easter activity wasn’t happening. You practiced your speech in your head as you walked.

As you rounded the corner to the roadblock, you took a deep breath and prepared yourself for the worst. Your stomach swam with nausea, your heartbeat echoing in your ears. You should’ve called Jake and made him do this. It was his fault after all.

You brace yourself for the crowd of confused children, when…

You can’t quite believe your eyes.

The kids are here, yes. But they’re running around, yellow baskets in their little hands as they shriek and holler, darting underneath doorsteps and plant pots to hunt. A small pile of coloured eggs sits in each of their baskets. Every single one of them is having a blast. Their parents watch on proudly, sharing their joy.

Are you going insane?

Some of them notice you and wave excitedly, calling your name and shouting over to you about how much fun it is. Their parents echo similar sentiments, and you just wave back gormlessly, trying to figure out what the hell is happening.

Is this some sort of hallucination?

“Phew. Told ya it would work out.”

You turn to the figure who has sidled up next to you, your eyes wide with surprise as Lee watches the joyful chaos unfold in front of you both.

“How…what…” you splutter.

“I remembered we did a similar thing a few years back,” he says casually without taking his eyes off the fun. “It was a police fundraiser around Easter time. One of my dim-witted deputies thought he ordered 100 eggs…turns out he ordered 100 cases…”

Your mouth falls agape as realisation slowly dawns.

“Shoved ‘em in the old outbuilding and forgot we had ‘em if I’m honest, ‘til this morning. Never thought we’d use them all, but here we are”. He laughs and rests his hands on his belt buckle.

“You…you did this?” you whisper, your throat tight with shock.

He shrugs, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Sure. Rounded up a bunch of the boys and we got ‘em all out. Not the most creative hiding places, you probably woulda done better – but the kiddos don’t seem to mind. Some of them are a bit dusty from storage – but again, kids are paying that no mind. Don’t worry, I didn’t tell no one. So, you’ll still get all the credit, you deserve it anyway – you put all the work in”.

Your eyes round as you stare at him. He stands there nonchalantly, like he didn’t just save the day. Didn’t just save you.

“You did that…for me?” you ask, bewildered.

“Sure. You needed help. That prick Jensen wasn’t gonna fix it, was he?”

“B..but. You don’t even like me?” you stammer weakly. Your brain simply can’t absorb any of this.

He finally turns, an eyebrow cocked in confusion. His blue eyes squint as his lip curls. “What? ‘Course I like ya”.

You feel like you’re going insane. “What?? We fight, all the time! You are always jabbing at me, making fun of me, riling me up…”

His face mirrors your own puzzlement but for a different reason, “yeah, but it’s just fun, isn’t it? Banter. I love fighting with you. It’s always a highlight of my day. You’re so…fun. Feisty. I love it. I never actually meant any harm…”

If you’d been sitting on a chair at that moment, you would’ve fallen out of it.

“WHAT?” you roar so loudly that some people turn around. You hush yourself immediately, trying to avoid a scene. “You were SO RUDE, the first time we met…it’s been hell ever since…”

He finally has the decency to look embarrassed as his eyes drop to the ground. “Oh, right. That. Yeah. That was shitty. I should’ve apologised…you just caught me off guard…”

“What do you mean?! All I did was say hello?” you sneer through gritted teeth.

“Yeah…and be gorgeous. Nobody told me the new teacher was a goddamn beauty. I panicked, couldn’t form words. You made me feel like a damn teenager with how nervous you made me”.

You just stare at him as you try and process what he’d just said, your mother would say you could catch flies with your mouth hanging open like that.

“Wait…You were rude because…you thought I was pretty?”

“Damn beautiful, actually. And I didn’t mean to be rude. Really. My brain just damn near stopped working”, he says bashfully.

“So, wait, this whole time you…”

You trail off as you suddenly reframe every interaction with him in your memory in a matter of seconds. The strange, unidentifiable buzz you felt with him sometimes. The way he got to you like nobody else. His smile widening every time he saw you, which you’d always assumed was just him getting ready to rile you up. How he would always gravitate to you if you were in the same place. The way he seemed to take so much pleasure in making fun of you, of talking with you…

…being with you?

“I should’ve just not been a coward and spoken to you properly, I’m sorry,” he sighs as he looks down at his feet. His voice more passive than you’d ever heard it. “Ask you on a date. Treat you nice, court you a little. I guess I never thought a pretty girl like you would go for a schlub like me, and I always had your attention when we argued – so why risk it?”

You look over at the giggling kids, the proud parents, the townspeople enjoying the stalls, sipping lemonade and laughing. You look back at him. You think of him hauling those old boxes from the station, getting his staff to help. Trying to find good hiding places for the eggs, wiping the dust from them. Greeting the kids and their parents as they arrived, giving them the little baskets. Doing it all for you without being asked, doing it for you because he wanted to.

Maybe he understood more about you than you realised.

He cautiously stands in front of you, you look deep into his cerulean eyes and before you know it, you’re kissing him. He wobbles slightly in surprise but corrects himself and finds his feet, kissing you back, his arms around your waist like they’d always been there. The rest of the world melts away and suddenly everything feels right. You don’t care that they can all see. You don’t care about anything else.

You break away and rest your forehead on his. You both laugh at the hooting and hollering from behind you, the cries of ‘about time!’ from his deputies. Apparently everyone could see it but you.

“Don’t I get a thank you? For fixing it?” he grins.

“Why? It’s just eggs,” you beam.

“…it’s not just eggs,” he chuckled as he moves to kiss you again.

THE END