Invisible String

How’s Your Head? | Bucky Barnes x Reader

This has been in my WIP forever and I finally finished it. Once again, I am looking for a soft, kind, Bucky Barnes to take care of me and flirt with me. Is that so much to ask?🥲

This is slightly longer than my usual stuff, just FYI. The WC is 7280. And yes the title is a Drag Race reference. 😂

Warnings: reader injury (not severe), creepy men (jail), blood, vomit, flirting, fluff🫶

Bucky didn’t like the staring. The eyes that seemed to follow him everywhere he went. The old woman just a few seats down from him leered at him almost aggressively, like she hoped looks could kill. And though this was a common occurrence, it still rubbed him the wrong way.

“Another adoring fan…” Bucky thought. 

He shifted side to side along with the rocking of the subway car and did his best to ignore her gaze- but couldn’t stand it any longer. He gave her a nod and a small, forced smile before heading for the adjoining subway car. Hopefully, he’d find an empty seat free from gawkers and onlookers.

But when he opened the door to the next car, he didn’t find the peace and quiet he’d hoped for.

“I’m not interested…” you said to the creepy guy sitting next to you.

“Oh, come on,” the man insisted. “Don’t be so uptight, sugar.” He rested a hand on your thigh and gave your leg a squeeze, his fingers digging into your flesh.

“Fuck off, dude. Seriously?” You banished his hand and stood from your seat, “eat glass, asshole.”

But as you tried to make your getaway, the man grabbed you by the wrist. He pulled you close as you struggled in his grip, his face only inches from yours. “Maybe you should learn some fuckin’ manners,” he threw you to the ground, your head striking the floor.

Bucky flew into a blind rage. He made quick work of your assailant, nearly removing the man’s head from his body. And with the entitled dickhead desperately escaping to another subway car, Bucky made his way to your side. 

“Hey, are you alright?” 

You sat on the floor, slightly dazed. A thick fog settled into every corner of your mind and your ears stung with a sharp ringing. “Yeah, I’m good. Didn’t hurt that bad,” you lied. Yet another interaction with an unknown man. Yes, he’d shooed away your creeper, but you wanted to be left alone. No more strange men, no more men pretending to be “one of the good guys” before showing their true self. 

If you could convince this random guy that you were okay, maybe he wouldn’t bother you. Maybe you’d be able to make it home without being touched by another strange hand. “Thanks for asking, but I’m-”

“Oh- you’re bleeding”. Only then did you notice the rush of warmth running down the back of your neck. Bucky yanked the jacket from his body and reached for your bloodied skull before quickly recoiling. “Erm, can I?” 

You nodded- the motion made you wince.

With cautious hands, he used his jacket to hold pressure to your wound. He stared down at you with genuine concern, his brow furrowed with worry. 

After a few moments, most of the fog cleared and brought you screeching back to reality. The reality in which a man you’d never met held his jacket to your bleeding scalp as you sat on the floor of a subway car. Pain pulsed beneath his touch and shot through your head. Warm blood dripped down your neck. But you didn’t care- all you wanted was to move.

Bucky watched as you struggled to get up and instantly tried to stop you. “Hey, careful. I don’t think-”

“I don’t wanna be on this floor any longer than I have to,” you did your best to stand, but the dizziness sabotaged your efforts. “People do weird shit on the train. I’d probably sitting in someone’s pee.” 

Bucky gave it a thought and instantly reconsidered his cautioning. “Ew. Yeah. You’re right,” the disgusted look on his face nearly made you laugh out loud. He thought back on all the questionable and downright nasty things he’d seen on the subway- he didn’t want you on that floor. “May I?” He offered you his free hand and got you safely into a seat. 

“Which stop is yours?” He asked, settling into the chair next to you. And though he seemed like a perfect gentleman, you gave him a suspicious glance. 

“Oh- I didn’t mean that in a ‘where do you live, I’m gonna follow you home’ type of way. More like, ‘how many stops do you have left before you can go get some rest?’ type of way”

You let out a laugh that sent pain pulsing behind your eyes. Maybe this stranger wasn’t so bad. “Um, I still have like five to go. I think. I’m coming all the way from Coney Island.” 

“Coney Island, huh?” A rush of memories hit Bucky like a train. Riding the cyclone with Steve and watching him puke. Spending all his money to win a stuffed animal for some redhead he had a crush on. 

“Yeah, I got to hang out with a girl I know from college. Haven’t seen her in a while and she’s never been out there. It was actually a pretty great day until that asshole cracked my head open…”

Bucky grimaced. He pulled his jacket from your scalp to give the wound another look, only to be greeted by a continuous flow of blood. “I think you should probably go to the ER. You might need stitches. And there’s a good chance you have a concussion.” 

You shot him only a nonchalant shrug, “I’m not worried about it. Plus, I don’t feel like going into debt so they can give me two Tylenol and an ice pack”.

Bucky liked your sense of humor, your wit. How you could be cheeky and sarcastic after being accosted surprised him. But he clocked the tension in your shoulders, the worry in your eyes. You were uneasy. Your glance darted from one end of the subway car to the other every few seconds; he knew you had to be searching for your assailant. Or the next man who wanted to touch you without permission.

“Hey, would you rather take a cab home?” Bucky said, pulling you from your anxious spiral. “I don’t blame you if you don’t want to ride the train after what happened.”

“Oh, um…”

“I’m not inviting myself home with you-” Bucky shook his head. He was cute when he got flustered. “I just mean, I’ll pay for you to take a cab if you’re uncomfortable.”

How you seemed to meet both the bottom of the barrel and the crème de le crème of men back-to-back nearly gave you whiplash. But this handsome stranger had done enough; you couldn’t let him pay for your ride home. “That’s- wow, that’s really sweet. But you don’t have to. It’s okay.”

“What if I want to? You seem uneasy… like you’re waiting for him to come back.”

You nodded.

“Then let’s get you a cab, alright? Next stop, we’re outta here.” He shot you a wink before once again reassuring you that he was not going to follow you home. “Is there someone who can keep an eye on you, though? Like I said, you probably have a concussion. And if your roommate or, um, significant other can sit with you for the rest of the night, that would be a good idea. Head injuries are no joke.”

“Well, I don’t have a significant other,” you almost laughed. “And my roommate’s out of town. She was supposed to get back around sevenish, but her flight got crazy delayed because of weather- now she’s not getting home for a few hours.”

Bucky’s brow furrowed. He checked his watch and saw that it was only 8:04pm. He needed someone to sit with you for the rest of the night. Just in case something happened, you’d need a friend or loved one by your side. And if you didn’t have someone there with you, Bucky knew he’d spend the remainder of his evening worrying about the cute stranger he met on the train. 

Just then, the subway stopped. Bucky offered you his arm and guided you onto the platform and up the stairs- all while keeping his jacket in place against your wound. Getting away from the train eliminated your unease. No longer were you trapped in the tiny space, your blood staining the floor. You had an escort in the form of a good samaritan, and a ride that would get you home without any further abuse.

 But when Bucky hailed you a cab, your anxiety resurfaced.

“Hey, um…” you eyed the car as it approached, “Would you- do you mind riding with me?”

Bucky cocked his head to the side. 

“I don’t know- I’m just a little nervous and I don’t really wanna be in a cab alone with another random man,” you said. “I know it’s probably inconvenient for you- I’ll pay for your ride home from my place.” The taxi neared the curb and stopped in front of you, sending your unease into overdrive. “Do you mind?”

Bucky clocked your wide eyes and shaking hands. Sure, you made jokes and sarcastic quips about what happened. But deep down, you were shaken. And he wanted to help in any way he could. “Not at all- I get it,” he gave you a reassuring look, “and you don’t have to pay for my ride. Let’s just get you home, alright?”

He held the door open for you and helped you into the cab before sliding in behind you- his hand still attached to your bloody skull. The ride was quiet, save for the honking of horns and cursing drivers. But having Bucky with you for the duration eased your discomfort. 

“So, is there anyone you can call to come look after you?” Bucky asked after a while, “A friend, a neighbor, a family member?”

“I don’t really have any friends,” you said. “But not in a ‘I’m a loser and can’t make friends’ kind of way, I promise.” Bucky laughed. You liked his laugh. “I’m just still kinda new here. And all my family lives in across the country. Plus, I only know two of my neighbors. One of them is an old man who always tell me my skin looks ‘so soft’-”

Bucky’s nose wrinkled, “Ew…"

“Yeah. And the other is this girl who told me to shut the fuck up because she thinks my footsteps are too loud? So yeah, I don’t have many connections here yet.”

He sensed a little embarrassment staining your words and aimed to make you feel better, “Well I’ve lived here for quite some time, and I don’t have any friends, either.” 

That didn’t seem possible to you. He was so likable. Quiet, yet endearing. And certainly, a gentleman. He made you feel safe. You wondered how his girlfriend would react when she found out he took another woman home. 

Bucky found himself wondering how you didn’t have swaths of friends. Even after your harrowing experience on the train, you were so charming. Funny. Sweet. It was even harder for him to believe you didn’t have a love interest to go home to. But after what he’d witnessed tonight, he didn’t blame you for keeping to yourself. 

“What part of town do you live in?” You did your best to conceal the optimism in your voice, the hoped that he lived close by. It was embarrassing how smitten you were with this man.

“Brooklyn,” Bucky said. “I’ve lived there for a while- save for some years I spent, um, away.”

Brooklyn. Nothing a quick train ride couldn’t solve. Though you weren’t too keen on the subway after the night’s events. “Well, tell your girlfriend that I apologize for keeping you so long.”

“I don’t have one,” Bucky said. Things inside the cab fell quiet.

“Oh. Well, do you-” you second guessed yourself, but decided to push through. “Do you want to stay with me until my roommate gets home? You know, since you’re so worried about me and my possible concussion and my lack of friends.”

Bucky stopped breathing. “Oh, um. Sure. Yeah. If that’s- if that’s alright. You sure you’re okay inviting a stranger into your house?”

“Well, you’re not really a stranger, Sergeant Barnes”. You shot him a wink.

An immediate ringing filled Bucky’s ears. He didn’t know what to say, how to react.

The rest of the ride was quiet. Bucky’s mind echoed with the sound of your voice referring to him by name. He liked the way it sounded coming from you. But he hated that you knew who- and what- he was. And when the cab turned onto your street and stopped in front of your apartment, he nearly panicked. He reconsidered his agreement to stay with you. But you didn’t seem to mind having the ex-Winter Soldier so close. And he didn’t want you to be alone with a head injury.

Against his better judgement, he followed you to the front door of your building. 

“My great aunt actually lived here back in the fifties,” you told Bucky as you fumbled for your keys. Bucky wondered how you could tell casual stories while dealing with a head injury and an ex-assassin. But as you continued to speak, he realized that he didn’t quite hear what you’d said. He was still reeling from your mention of his name. 

And then he noticed you struggling. You were dizzy after cracking your head open, and a slight shaking rendered your hands almost useless. No matter how many times you tried, you couldn’t seem to finagle the key into the lock. 

“Um, do you want some help?” He gestured to your keys and allowed you to drop them into his free hand. He pushed the old door open with a loud creak and escorted you inside the lobby- his hand still resting on the back of your head. It was quiet while the two of you waited for the ancient elevator to roar to life. And when the doors finally opened, he guided you inside and watched you press the ‘5’ button.

“So… how’d you know it was me?” He asked as the elevator slowly climbed to your floor.

“Well, when I first saw you, I thought you looked kinda familiar. But I couldn’t place you”. You laughed a quiet, bashful laugh, “Then you knelt down next to me, and I thought I was gonna pass out- but not from the head trauma. You just you have like, the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen.” The head injury had you a bit loopy, a little too honest. Too confident. “I knew I’d seen those eyes before… and then it clicked. You were so chivalrous, you know? So old fashioned. I mean, who uses their own jacket to stop a stranger’s head wound from bleeding?” 

Bucky shrugged. His cheeks flushed pink.

“I read a book a few years ago about Captain America and his efforts during World War II. And there was a huge portion about Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes… And that’s where I’d seen those eyes.” You flashed him a dramatic wink, “Truth be told, it was my favorite part of the book.”

A shy laugh made its way out of Bucky’s mouth, “Is that so?”

The elevator lurched to a stop and nearly sent you tumbling to the floor. You’d gotten used to the clunky machine since moving into the building, but your sabotaged equilibrium didn’t stand a chance against it. Bucky caught you in a careful, protective grasp before you could tip over. He gently righted you and searched your face for any indicators of discomfort. 

“You alright?”

“All good, Sergeant Barnes.” You gave him a salute.

He rolled his eyes and escorted you into the hall, “you can just call me Bucky, if you like.”

“Okay, Bucky-” you said with a smile, “follow me.” You lead him in the direction of your apartment- with his jacket still plastered to your scalp. The man was determined to help you. You’d give him that.

You once again needed his assistance when it came to unlocking your front door. But when Bucky got the door open, he just stood there. He didn’t go inside. He held the door for you and insisted you go ahead, finally peeling the jacket from your wound. He knew he didn’t belong here.

You noticed how tentative he was about entering your home and beckoned him inside. “You can come in…” you said. “Are super soldiers like vampires? Do y’all need an invitation?”

Bucky laughed, “No. I just… I don’t do this kind of thing very often.”

“Oh, you don’t accompany injured women home from the subway on a weekly basis? I’m shocked.”

You flipped on the light and let the warm glow reveal your apartment. Bucky admired the art covering your walls, the books lining your shelves, the smell of some kind of baked goods lingering in the air. This place was cozy, welcoming. Nothing like his apartment.

While he was distracted drinking in the details of your home, you gave his jacket a once over. Blood coated the leather and smeared the lining. It was enough to make you nauseous.  “Sorry about this mess… here, let me clean it up for-”

“It’s leather- I’m not worried about it,” Bucky shrugged. “I’ll just wipe it off later.”

“Ew, I think that’s considered a biohazard, Sarge.”

Bucky’s laugh echoed through your home- you liked the sound of his voice bouncing around your space. “Well, lucky for me, I’m not susceptible to biohazards. So, really, it’s not a big deal.” He shot you a wink and hung his bloody jacket on the back of a chair. “Let me take a look at your head.”

He gently moved your hair out of the way enough to expose your wound. He was as careful as he possible not to hurt you or make things worse. And using the dish towel you offered him, he wiped away enough blood to get a good look. 

“It’s big, but not deep enough to warrant stitches. And it looks like the bleeding has finally come to a stop.” 

“Perfect. I’m gonna go take a shower” you said. “Make yourself at home. You’re welcome to anything in the fridge, except the kombucha. My roommate will murder you if you drink her kombucha.”

Bucky didn’t even know what kombucha was. “Are- are you sure you wanna go shower?”

“Um, yeah. Gotta get the subway-floor germs off me,” you gave a dramatic shudder. “Some of us are, indeed, susceptible to biohazards.”

“That’s fair,” he laughed, “I’m just a little worried about your balance… I think it’s probably seen better days.”

He wasn’t wrong. The floor did indeed seem to dip and shift under you unsuspecting feet. The room spun on occasion. The walls wiggled. But you needed to get cleaned up. “I’ll be extra careful. Promise.” You offered him your pinky and made him link his with yours. “But I have more blood in my hair than anyone should- I need a shower.” You left Bucky alone in your living room with a promise to be back soon.

It was strange for him, being in a stranger’s home like this. He didn’t get invited places or have friends to hang out with. He had Sam- and that was it. And while Sam was great, he never felt quite like this at Sam’s apartment. Something about your place warmed him, made him feel a little lighter. Or maybe it was you. Who was he kidding? Of course, it was you.

But Bucky knew this feeling couldn’t last. In a few hours, your roommate would return and send him home. And that would be the end of it. Of course, he’d be thrilled to see you again under better circumstances. But assuming he’d get that chance would only lead to disappointment. And so, as he waited for you to finish your shower, he did his best to remember this feeling just in case it was the last time.

“I said make yourself at home and you didn’t even sit down!” you said when you emerged from the bathroom. You found Bucky in the living room with his hands in his pockets, admiring your things as though he were in a museum. Looking, never touching. “Relax a little, sarge. The couch is really comfy, I promise.”

Bucky liked the way you looked with your skin still slightly damp form the shower, your hair wet and a little messy. “Oh, yeah- I just got distracted looking at all your…” he gestured to your bookcase, “your books and your tchotchkes. You have good taste- I like that you have two copies of Fellowship of the Ring.”

“Well, my sister dropped one of them in the lake at summer camp when we were kids…” you pointed to the faded cover and worn spine of the book in question. “She took a hairdryer to it and it’s mostly fine, but my mom made her get me a replacement. I just can’t seem to part with this one, though.” You plucked your water-damaged copy of Fellowship of the Ring from the shelf and flipped through the pages, “too much sentimental value. You know?

Bucky felt a small smile creeping upward- you didn’t mind damaged goods. Maybe you’d want to see him again after all. 

“Can I get you a drink or something? I have water, tea, La Croix, wine…” you looked at him expectantly. 

“Oh, no I’m okay-”

“Well, I’m going to the fridge for some water anyway, so you’re not saving me a trip…” you shot him a wink and began your trek to the kitchen. He followed in your footsteps, too much of a gentleman to let you fetch him a drink. And though he didn’t know what La Croix was, he took the one you offered him with a smile.

He followed you yet again, but to the couch this time. He sat a respectful distance away- as respectful as your small couch would allow- and taste tested the blackberry drink in his hand. It didn’t taste like blackberries. But he thanked you, anyway.

He couldn’t believe he’d forgotten to check in on you after your shower- he was too entranced by the sight of you in your pajamas. “Hey, how’s your head?”

“Haven’t had any complaints.”

Maybe it was too forward of a joke. Maybe someone from his time wouldn’t appreciate crass humor. Bucky’s cheeks flushed red- and he burst into laughter. You joined him, ignoring the throbbing pain in your skull. 

“It feels fine. I mean, it hurts, but it’s nothing I haven’t experienced before” you said. “Are you just gonna make sure I stay up all night?” 

Bucky cocked his head to the side, “uh, I wasn’t planning on it.”

“Oh…” you grew a little embarrassed. “I thought you couldn’t go to sleep if you have a concussion.”

“You can go to sleep- it’s just good to have someone check in on you now and then,” he said. “And, hey, you don’t have to stay in here with me- don’t feel like you have to entertain me, or anything. If you wanna go to bed, I’ll be fine out here.”

“Well, I don’t know about entertaining, cause I think the concussion kinda fucked up my ability to tap dance,” you laughed. “But I wanna hang out here with you- if you don’t mind the company.”

He gave you a shy smile, “I don’t mind at all.”

Bucky wasn’t anything like the tabloids said. He wasn’t cold or scary or threatening. He sat on your couch, sipping a La Croix and admiring your throw blanket. He was the farthest thing from intimidating. He had a quiet calm about him that brought you peace. Never did you think you’d invite a man you met on the subway to accompany you home. But Bucky made you feel safe. He was sweet, he clearly cared for your well-being. He was, by all definitions, perfect.

“So, what do superheroes do in their downtime?” you asked. “Like when you’re not saving the world, what do you do for fun?”

Bucky shrugged. He didn’t do anything for fun. “Um, I have court mandated therapy appointments,” he gave an awkward laugh. “I read. I hang out with Sam when he’s not in Louisiana visiting his sister. And I have lunch with a neighbor of mine every Wednesday- this old man named Yori.”

“I’m sure he could say the same about you- that he has lunch with some old man named Bucky.”

Bucky’s head fell back in a laugh, “yeah, you’re right. He’s- he’s about twenty years younger than me.” Bucky didn’t bring up the fact that Yori didn’t know his real age or anything about his past. About how the Winter Soldier killed his son. “Um, what about you?” He quickly changed the subject, “what do you do for fun?”

You thought it over for a moment. You hadn’t expected him to ask; most guys never asked what you liked to do for fun. They didn’t ask you anything at all, really. “Well, I also go to therapy,” you said. “My therapist’s name is Angela and I love her. And when I’m not ‘hanging out’ with Angela, I like to read. I like to go on walks. Oh, and I do a lot of baking- there’s a Tupperware of chocolate chip cookies on the island if you want some.”

Bucky’s eyes grew wide. He was off the couch quicker than you could comprehend and returned with the entire Tupperware in hand. But before he could dive in, he offered one to you. He was a gentleman, after all. 

“Oh, shit, these are so good”. Bucky wiped a stray crumb from his lip, “seriously, maybe the best I’ve ever had.”

His praise made your cheeks hot. Bucky Barnes called you ‘the best he ever had’- it was enough to make you sweat. “Oh, I’m flattered. The recipe’s been in my family for generations, though, so I can’t take full credit, but I-”

“I’m giving you full credit”, he said as he finished his second cookie. “These things are incredible.” 

You smiled so hard it hurt. “Well, I make at least one batch a week, so…” This was it, your excuse to see Bucky again. You could simply say that you wanted to bake him some cookies as a way of saying thank you, and then you’d ask him out. It was a perfect plan, really. A flawless, surefire way to guarantee that you’d see him at least once more. But as you tried to suggest baking him a ‘thank you’ batch, your mouth flooded with saliva.

Bucky clocked the way you grew suddenly quiet. He dropped his third cookie and inched closer, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Hey, you okay? Do you need something?”

You did your best to push past the wave of nausea. Breathing in your nose and out through your mouth, you willed your body to cooperate. You made a valiant effort, but it was no match for the clear and present threat of vomit. This was happening- now. You scrambled to your feet and made a beeline for the bathroom, swearing to yourself you wouldn’t puke in front of the James Buchanan Barnes. 

Bucky rushed after you and found you kneeling in front of the toilet, emptying the contents of your stomach. “Oh, shit- here, let me,” he carefully moved your hair out of your face, holding it behind you in an imitation ponytail. His touch was gentle, cautious. He didn’t want to pull too hard and hurt you- you didn’t need any extra pain. 

He watched your body lurch as you wretched over and over, voiding your system completely. It was harsh, almost violent. And when you finally sat back on your heels, black and white spots danced through your field of vision. You were empty. Spent. Exhausted. 

“Hey, do me a favor and sit against this wall, okay?” Bucky guided you backward until you rested comfortably like he asked. “I’m gonna go get you some water, and I don’t want you tipping over while I’m gone.” Even in your despondent, miserable state, he still made you smile. And when he was certain that you wouldn’t injure yourself in his absence, he rushed to the kitchen for a glass of water.

He returned moments later with ice cold water in hand. “Thanks,” you croaked, your throat raw. Small sips of the cool water eased the burning. And a few more swigs rid your mouth of the unpleasant aftertaste. “I’m sure you weren’t planning on watching a stranger puke tonight,” you laughed. It made your head pound. “But I appreciate the water. And you holding my hair.”

Bucky plopped down next to you with a “sure thing” and a “don’t worry about it.” But you’d heard those phrases before. You’d heard them from people who were never a sure thing, people who made you worry about everything they did for you. They’d throw their rare acts of kindness in your face and use them as ammo in an attempt to disprove the pain they caused. It was condescending. Manipulative. Hurtful.  But Bucky meant what he said. All he wanted to do was help. You could tell.

He watched you catch your breath. Watched you drink your water in small sips. But he kept an eye out for another wave of nausea. He wanted to be ready in case he needed to hold your hair again. And he found himself thanking the universe that you’d invited him in; imagining you going through this by yourself broke his heart. 

“How do you feel?” he asked after a while.

“Not the best... but I’ll probably survive.”

Bucky’s laugh filled the room, “well, that’s very good news.”

The two of you sat in a comfortable silence. Bucky’s hand rested near yours. Your thigh bumped against his a few times. You swore electric currents passed between the two of you each time you touched. 

“Hey, if you don’t mind, could you grab me some Tylenol?” 

Bucky was up in an instant, ready to fetch you what you needed. But he found himself lost with no idea where he was going. He was so intent on helping, on making you feel better, that he was ready to run off without a map.

“In the cabinet to the left of the fridge,” you laughed. 

He shot you a wink and sped off. And while he rummaged through your cabinet, you made an embarrassing effort to stand. You rose on wobbly legs, determined to brush your teeth. There was no way you were going to have vomit breath around Bucky- absolutely not. He was the handsome stranger of your dreams. And you couldn’t screw this up; not that you thought he’d kiss a random concussed woman he met on the subway. But you wanted to leave the very best impression possible.

Bucky came screeching own the hall, bottle of Tylenol in hand. “I didn’t know how many you wanted, so I brought the whole thing”, he shrugged. You shot him a smile in the mirror and gave him a muffled “thanks”.

He stood patiently in the doorway, waiting for you finish brushing your teeth. And when you banished the rank taste of bile, you accepted the Tylenol. You tossed back four pills, and before you could reach for your water, Bucky retrieved it for you. He was one step ahead of what you needed. 

With the pills washed down your throat, you gave Bucky an expectant look. “Back to the couch?”

“Yeah, I mean, only if you’re feeling up to it,” he checked his watch. Noticed the yawn you tried to keep concealed. “If you wanna get some rest, please, don’t mind me. You can go to bed- I’ll be fine on my own.”

“No, I’m good. I’m fine,” you took him by the hand and led him back to the living room. “I’m having a good time.” Bucky didn’t say a word; he just let you guide him. He hadn’t held hands with someone in- he didn’t know how long. And holding hands with you- a stranger he’d grown rather smitten with- was enough to stop his heart.

The two of you sunk back into the couch- closer this time- and kept the conversation going. Your thigh rested against Bucky’s; his arm curved around the back of the couch. You could’ve sworn he was playing with a piece of your hair as he talked. But you didn’t want to ask and ruin the moment.

As the night continued, Bucky was shocked. He couldn’t believe you’d only heard of a few of his favorite movies. And he’d never heard of any of yours. “Make me a list,” you said, handing him a pen and a scrap of paper. “And I’ll make one for you. A person’s favorite movies say a lot about them.” 

“Yeah?” he cocked an eyebrow at you. “And what do mine say about me? The ones you know of, that is.”

A sly smile pulled at your lips, “they say that you’re a hopeless romantic.” It almost sounded like an accusation, and Bucky couldn’t help but laugh. 

“Is that so?”

“That is so!” you told him. “But I’m gonna tell you a secret…”  You lowered your voice, beckoned him closer, scanned the room as though in search of any eavesdroppers. “I’m the same way.” 

Just as you finished your list of movies for Bucky, you considered writing down your number. It would be so smooth, so perfectly timed- but what if he thought it was too forward? What if he didn’t want your phone number at all? You scratched out your area code and handed him the list with a smile.

The two of you continued teasing and joking and learning about each other. You found out that Bucky loved peach cobbler. He learned about your passion for animals. And eventually you asked the question you’d been curious about all night.

“So, where were you headed?” 

“What?”

“Well, you were on the subway. I’m assuming you were going somewhere.” You thought he was probably going to some fellow hero’s house for Super Movie Night. Or maybe a meeting with Captain America and Company. He had something much cooler to do than anything you planned for the night, that was for sure.

“Oh, right…” he cringed. “Um, I wasn’t actually heading anywhere. I was just riding the train to, well, ride the train.” It was embarrassing. More embarrassing than anything he’d ever done or said in his hundred years of life.

You cocked your head to the side, “Hmm. Interesting. So, is that like a hobby of yours?” 

He wished he could take his answer back. He wished he would’ve said he was going to dinner. Or Target. Or literally anywhere. But no, he just had to be honest. “No, it isn’t a hobby. It’s more like… exposure therapy.”

“Shit. Sorry,” you threw him an apologetic look. “You don’t have to talk about it.”

“It’s okay, no big deal. I just- I don’t really like confined spaces. Or spaces with a lot of people. It’s a- it’s a long story.”

You nodded. 

“So, my therapist told me two combine the two and force myself to take the train- which isn’t great for my fear of trains,” he let out an awkward laugh. “Anyway, I was just trying it out. Seeing how it made me feel.”

Your heart broke for him. He had so many problems, so much trauma to deal with. And while you weren’t a psychiatrist, you didn’t think combining three of his fears into one nightmare was very sound medical advice. “And how did it make you feel?” 

“It wasn’t great- this lady was staring daggers at me for ten solid minutes. But I did get to teach that creepy guy a lesson, so at least there’s a silver lining.”

You laughed. He loved the sound- wanted to hear it all the time. 

“Thank you again, by the way, Sarge. You really rocked that guy’s shit.”

“I don’t like hurting people-” he shrugged, “It’s just something I’m good at. I try not to engage in violence unless absolutely necessary, you know? But that guy deserved it. Probably deserved a little more, but…” He gestured to you, “priorities.”

A warm rush flooded your cheeks. James Buchanan Barnes referred to you as a priority. 

The evening continued as the two of you swapped stories. You couldn’t believe how funny he was, how many ridiculous things he did back when he was young. In the comfortable safety of your living room, he came alive. You asked for more tales of young James Barnes and his antics with Steve Rogers. 

But as time passed, Bucky clocked the way you sank deeper into the couch. You nodded along with his stories and made comments here and there, but there was no mistaking your exhaustion. You leaned against his body more and more until your head rested on his shoulder. 

And then, you were asleep. Completely out. 

But Bucky didn’t mind. He sat still and quiet. He silenced his phone and yours. After the night you had, you needed the rest. And he was more than happy to help you get some sleep. He held in his laughter as you muttered nonsense under your breath- something about crepes and trench coats. It was perfect. Not the night Bucky expected, but the night he needed. And he’d stay in that exact position for hours if he had to. 

But after only forty minutes, a loud crash scared you awake.

Two large pieces of luggage fell to the floor inside your front door. “Fuck Delta airlines and FUCK LAX!” your roommate, Emma, yelled. “I swear to god, there’s a curse on that fucking airport and Delta is the devil’s airline.”

She eyed the room for a moment, taking in the unexpected scene. “Ew, why is there a bloody jacket in the kitchen? And who the fuck are you?”

You stood, begrudgingly leaving your spot next to Bucky. “This is Bucky, that’s his jacket. Some asshole attacked me on the train. I split my head open. He brought me home and kept an eye on me till you got back.”

Maybe she was just in a shit mood because of the travel nightmare. Or maybe she recognized Bucky. But either way, Emma wasn’t having it. “Okay, well, thanks for bringing her home. But I’m back, so you can go. Now. And don’t forget your nasty jacket.”

Bucky gave an awkward laugh. He mumbled a “nice to meet you” and stood from the couch. The two of you locked eyes for a moment, and you wished telepathy came with the serum. If he could only read your mind, he’d know how sorry you were. How horrified you were by Emma’s behavior. You couldn’t believe how rude she was being, how utterly unkind. 

But your mind and body weren’t quite working together. You were still groggy, lost in the haze of sleep. And your head injury only made things more difficult. You did your best to formulate a response to Emma and an apology to Bucky. But before you could say anything, Emma was at it again. 

“Seriously, dude. It’s time for you to go, get out of my house.”

Bucky was so flustered, so uncomfortable that he left without saying goodbye. Without getting your number. He shut down. He simply snagged his jacket from the kitchen and bailed. He heard you arguing with Emma as he walked down the hall. Heard you near-tears. 

He wanted to turn around and say goodnight. To protect you from Emma’s wrath. Comfort you. More than anything, he wanted to get your number. Maybe ask you out. But he was too thrown off by the whole thing. He didn’t expect such a response- he didn’t even get to tell Emma that you needed looking after. He just ran. And it made him feel like a coward. 

He pressed the button for the ancient elevator once. Twice. Five times. And when it finally arrived, he got in and slammed the button for the first floor. Ruining his chances of ever seeing you again. Sure, he knew where you lived. But he couldn’t just show up. You’d already dealt with enough creepy shit from weird men- he wasn’t going to stalk you. 

Bucky spent the entire elevator ride heartbroken. He knew he’d have to go home to his empty apartment; knew he’d think about you for way too long. You’d probably forget about him after a day- maybe two at the most. And he’d spend months trying to get over the stranger from the subway.

But when he stepped out of the elevator, he found you waiting for him.

“Hi, um… what?” He was more than a little confused. “How did you- how’d you get down here so fast?”

“Stairs,” you breathed. “Faster.”

Bucky couldn’t believe you. It was romantic; it was something out of one of his favorite movies. But it was stupid. “That was… that was a terrible idea- you could’ve gotten hurt. You almost fell over earlier when you were just standing still. Why’d you run down the stairs?”

“Cause I didn’t get to say goodbye…” your voice was soft, heartbroken. “And I didn’t get to give you my number.”

Wordlessly, Bucky handed you his phone. He didn’t know what to say, didn’t want to chance ruining such a perfect opportunity. He couldn’t believe this was happening to him, of all people. That you actually wanted to see him again.

When you finished, you extended Bucky’s phone in his direction- but recoiled as he tried to reach for it. “Promise me you’ll call?”

“On my life,” he said. The answer brought a warm smile to your face- a smile he wanted to see again. As soon as possible. And when you gave his phone back, he took a moment to stare down at your number. This had to be a dream. 

“Do me a favor and go get some rest, okay?” He extended his pinky and linked it with yours, “Drink a lot of water. And even though she seems like she’s in a bad mood, ask your roommate to check in on you every now and then.”

“Yeah, like she’s gonna go for that-”

“Tell her that if she doesn’t, I’m coming back to look after you myself. And I’ll drink her, her um…” 

“Kombucha,” you whispered. 

“Right, I’ll drink her Kombucha!” He laughed and shot you a wink, “That’ll do the trick.”

You pressed a kiss to his cheek, wiggled your pinky with his, and stepped into the still-open elevator doors. “Thank you for everything. I’m really happy I met you.” 

Bucky blushed. “So am I. Not under the best circumstances, but-”

“Worth it,” you shot him a wink. Just as the doors began to close, the two of you exchanged waves. And just before Bucky vanished from view, you threw a quick “call me” his way. And then he was gone.

You made it back to your apartment, nearly tripping over Emma’s luggage. She apologized as you grabbed a glass of water and nearly cried when you told her the story of your evening. And though you wanted to hear about her airport nightmare, you needed to sleep. 

You got settled in bed and realized- you missed Bucky already. 

And just as you decided to go to sleep for the night, your phone buzzed:

“Wanted to call but figured it might be too soon- seeing as it’s only been about four minutes. I’ll call you in the morning. And just so you know: even without the tap dancing, I found you very entertaining. I’m really glad I met you.

If you need anything at all, let me know. Feel better.

-JBB”

—————————————

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Kinda crying rn

𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐞'𝐬 𝐋𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐀𝐭 𝐘𝐨𝐮, 𝐊𝐢𝐝.

—boxer!bucky x reader

—summary: bucky hated his job just as much, if not more, than you did. but if you wanted to live the remainder of your lives together comfortably, you'd both have to stick it out. which included him having to fight your ex husband.

—word count: 7.2k

—tw: swearing, alcohol, violence, blood, guns, hospitals, abuse (not from Bucky), Br*ck R*mlow, grammar mistakes, unedited lol

—a/n: my first Bucky pic! Yay! this is kind of a heavy one, as all of my fics are, lol, so if any of the triggers bother you pls don't read any further! I wanna write more blurbs based on this so keep an eye out for those. also Steve and nat are married in this, and sam's wife is an OC named Sonya, I picture her as Kiki Layne but feel free to use imagination! enjoy!

It was never fucking easy.

He had promised. He had always promised that it would get easier. 

Of course, you’d believed him at first. When the love of your life whispers sweet promises into your ear with his hands grasped at your waist, your knees turn to jello and you believe him.

But as time went on, how could watching your fiance get his face smashed in repeatedly by his opponent wearing a red boxing glove ever get fucking easier?

“It’ll get easier, baby. Promise.”

Bullshit. 

The tremor in your fingers never eased, the clamminess of your hands never dried, the tunnel vision barring you from seeing or hearing anything that wasn’t Bucky in that goddamn ring never let up.

“What if it doesn’t?” You whispered.

If there was anything in this God forsaken universe that Bucky Barnes loved, it was you. And he hated himself for making that promise, because it never got easier for him either. The last thing he could ever want was to see his girl shaking in panic, a panic that he caused. But, this was all he knew. His father was a boxer, and he’d been training since he was a teenager. There was no other life for him now, he just needed her to hold on a little bit longer. Just a little bit longer until his contract is up and he can retire forever, having made enough money for the both of them to live comfortably for the rest of their lives and raise a family.

He hoped and prayed that it would get easier, that the pain both of them felt would subside until it was over. But of course, nothing ever seems to work out that way.

—

“Well if you aren’t as beautiful as the day I first met you!”

“That was only 5 years ago Tony. You gonna break my husband’s contract or what?”

Tony Stark, the loveable yet completely tiresome man who managed your fiance, along with multiple other well known boxers under SBA.

“You know that’s out of my control, gorgeous.”

You sighed. Of course you knew. Tony owned the company when you first started dating Bucky, but things changed, and Tony ran out of money. He was eventually bought out by Nick Fury, a good man who let Tony keep a high up enough job at the company, but he played by the rules. He refused to let Bucky end his contract and keep his money. 

“I know it.” You rolled your eyes and patted him on the back as you made your way into the gym.

“Visitors pass!” Tony called after you and you flipped him off, causing him to chuckle. You made your way to the far corner of the gym, knowing it was exactly where Bucky and his friends would be on a Thursday.

“Afternoon, boys! Your voice sang through the gym as you raised a hand in the air, catching the attention of the 3 more so men than boys huddled in a circle with their arms folded across their puffed up chests.

You scoffed. Men.

Sam Wilson, Steve Rogers, and Bucky Barnes. Or, “The Big Three” as most of their fans called them fondly. 

Steve and Bucky both trained under the infamous Sam Wilson, originally the heavyweight champion for the PBA before a debilitating head injury left him and his wife fearful for their future and the future of his newborn daughter. Sam was lucky enough to break his contract with PBA, with the help from his lawyer who found multiple legal loopholes, at the fault of the CEO, Alexander Pierce, who Sam describes as “an asshole on a stick”.

You always thought it was so funny, these 3 big men that just turned to absolute putty in the presence of their girls. Just 3 soft teddy bears that only a select few got to see the sweet, carefree and fun side of.

Just last weekend, you and Bucky hosted a dinner party for all your friends at your new penthouse in New York.

–

“Steve, for the love of all things good, feet off of the sofa!” You scolded from your seat at the bar where you were accompanied by Sam’s wife, Sonya, and Steve’s wife, Natasha, along with Tony’s assistant, Wanda. Sam’s youngest girl, Thalia, was on your lap, head rested on your chest and playing with your hair.

Steve groaned, yanking them off and planting them on the ground before hoisting himself up and making his way towards the bar for a drink for himself, but not before plucking Thalia from your grip.

You were extremely proud of yours and Bucky’s home, it was exactly like you’d always dreamed. A kitchen with the most gorgeous island and oak cabinets, a beautiful dining room with a sparkling vintage chandelier and a table big enough to fit your dysfunctional family, a full functioning bar in the living room and the most stunning view of New York a small town girl like you could never dream of. Bucky wanted to give you everything and more.

“She sent me the link to that sofa when she first ordered it, and for that price you better keep those nasty ass feet off of those cushions.” Natasha berated, pointing a finger in her husband’s face, who responded by playfully biting the end of it before kissing her nose, causing the woman to scrunch her face, and earning a giggle from Thalia.

“Ever so charming.” Sonya taunted, rolling her eyes before taking a sip from her martini, only to make a sour face. “Tony this is the worst martini that’s ever made its way past my lips!”

“I make men fight, Mrs. Wilson, not martinis, be thankful you got anything at all.”

You shook your head, though a smile still played upon your lips as you felt your fiance’s well built arms wrap around your waist, his lips grazing your shoulder.

“Well, hello handsome.” You greeted, turning your head so he could give you a kiss on the lips.

“Hi, my love.” He said ever so gently, pressing a kiss to your brow before letting his lips linger there.

“When are you two lovebirds finally gonna get married?” Sam asked, breaking the silence as he reached over Wanda to grab a piece of cheese from the assortment of snacks you’d set out before dinner. His comment earned a smack on the arm from Sonya.

“If you don’t wife her, Barnes, I might. Because this amaretto sour she made me is kind of to die for.” Wanda joked, sipping from her drink.

“And that sauce just smells heavenly.” Tony remarked, popping a grape into his mouth.

“And this decor…” Steve said, looking around the apartment, wrapping an arm around Natasha. “Honey, do we need a third?

“I think we might-”

“Alright, alright.” Bucky said, tightening his grip around your giggling frame. “Everyone back off of my girl before things get ugly.”

–

Bucky turned to you, his face lighting up as he saw his girl, beautiful as ever, walking through his gym with a cooler bag in hand, lunch for him, no doubt. He met you halfway, picking you up by your waist, spinning you around and dipping you before kissing you in front of all the men who liked to stare a bit too long as you walked past them in your tight jeans and small tank top.

“Bucky!” You squealed, “Don’t make me drop the food I slaved away making for you all this morning.”

Bucky froze, raising an eyebrow, “All?”

Steve and Sam’s ears perked up, “All?!”

You smiled, wiggling out of Bucky’s grip, but keeping one hand wrapped in his. “Thought it’d be a fun surprise!” You set down the cooler bag and let the 2 men rifle through what you had to offer. Salmon, rice, steamed vegetables, your special sauce that you refused to share the recipe to, and multiple bags of your boxer diet- friendly chocolate chip cookies that the boys went crazy over.

“Mrs. Barnes you are quite literally a saint.” Steve said, gripping your small head in his hands and planting a kiss right in the middle of your forehead.

You and Bucky weren’t married, he hadn’t even proposed yet. But you both had a habit of calling each other ‘husband’, ‘wife’, ‘fiance’, and everyone else’s favorite ‘Mrs. Barnes’.

You laughed and wiped the remnants of Steve’s kiss before turning to Bucky, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“How are you today, doll?” He asked, a serious tone on his face as well as settled in his eyes.

You grimaced. Bucky had a fight today, and you weren’t exactly ecstatic over it. Well, you were never exactly ecstatic when Bucky had to fight. But, that was the only way to bring in money, and the only way to end his contract faster.

“Quentin Beck, right?” You smiled while Bucky ran a hand along your spine. “Easy money.”

“I know that’s right!” Sam whooped, cookie crumbles falling from his mouth. “Gonna need all the practice you can get before you fight Rumlow!”

Brock Rumlow.

One of the meanest, most vicious fighters of the PBA, heavyweight champion the past two years. He gave Wilson the head injury that put him out. He nearly killed Steve 3 years ago.

Infamously known as “The Hydra”.

Cut off one head, two more grow back.

And much to your dismay, your ex husband.

You had married extremely young. After running away from your small town in Georgia at 18, you met Brock Rumlow at a fancy party you snuck your way into with some girls you met at your job. He promised security, safety, wealth, love.

You got maybe two of those things.

You met Sam through Brock, he helped you through all of the legalities of divorce after you showed up on him and Sonya’s doorstep in the rain, soaked, bruised, and shaking.

It’s how you met the love of your life.

“Bucky…”

He hadn’t told you he was fighting Rumlow.

Sam regretted his words as they barely even tumbled past his cookie stuffed mouth as Steve shook his head, pity evident on his features as he looked at you.

“Doll…” 

His voice was so achingly gentle, his eyes so painfully soft as he continued to hold you, letting you work through every emotion that seemed to be hitting you like a semi truck.

“Please say somethin’, honey. Anything.”

“Um- when, when is this happening?” You asked, trying your best to keep your cool amongst the many other men and women in the gym.

The three exchanged looks. Bucky had a world of time to tell you, but he was so damn afraid of the exact reaction painted across your face at that moment.

Everyone threatened to tell you multiple times, but Bucky insisted it needed to come from him, and he’d get around to it. Wanda even went so far as to dial your number one day. 

You had picked up with your signature cheery hello and Bucky made a pleading gesture with his hands, desperation evident on his face as he wordlessly begged Wanda to keep her mouth shut.

“Hello?”

‘Please’ Bucky had mouthed.

“Wanda?”

Wanda shook her head before answering you, “Hey girl! Just making sure we’re still on for drinks this weekend.”

Bucky wanted to cry as he held you in his arms, not that he’d think you would be angry with him. You just had been through so much, you didn’t deserve to go through this too.

“Two weeks.” Bucky choked the words out.

You were stoic, staring at Bucky as if you were just staring straight at the weight machine behind him.

The three men held their breaths, terrified for the reaction you might give.

“Okay.” You said. Your voice suspiciously even. “Let’s beat this motherfucker.”

–

You never liked the private rooms at the arena.

They were nice, perfectly clean with comfortable couches and working restrooms. The mini fridges were stocked with sodas and snacks, the good kinds like cheez-its and coca-cola. They even had air fresheners in the corner of each room, making all of them smell like fresh laundry and flowers.

But that wasn’t your qualm.

You hated the rooms because all they brought were anxiety and pain. 

The moments before a fight were filled with unshed tears you struggled to keep inside and Bucky’s arms around you, whispering the sweetest of words that seemed to drip like honey and stick to your ears.

The moments after were filled with panicked breaths that you tried so hard to conceal as you watched your husband's unrecognizable face get cleaned and bandaged by his medical team while he held your hands in his own, rubbing soothing circles with his thumbs and occasionally bringing them to his lips to press sweet kisses to your wrists.

Today was no different.

“Sweetheart, it’s okay to be nervous.” Bucky said, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. 

His med team just finished checking him before the fight, so he was sat on a temporary medical stretcher, his large arms wrapped around your waist, you had your arms around his neck.

He tried to pull away to look at you but you just shook your head and held him closer, allowing a few stray tears to slip.

“Okay.” He whispered, running his hands up and down your back. “Okay, doll. I’m here. Right here, okay?”

There was a moment of complete quiet. Just you and Bucky, the only sound being the whirring of the air conditioner in the corner. You didn’t want to ruin it.

“Don’t fight him.”

Yet, you did.

Bucky furrowed his eyebrows. “Beck? Baby, that guy’s barely even-”

“Rumlow.”

“Doll, you know I wish I could…”

“Bucky, please.” You pulled away from him then, feeling the ache in your bones of no longer being in his hold.

Bucky’s heart severed at the look on your face, cheeks puffy and eyes swollen, fat tears rolling down your skin but ever so beautiful.

“He’s doing this to get back at me.” You were sobbing now, not even fully pronouncing your words.

Bucky wanted nothing more than to give in. To say ‘Okay’ and tell Tony he wasn’t doing the fight. Hell, he’d march straight into Fury’s office if he could.

Bucky held your face in his hands, firm, yet gentle enough for you to want to just melt into him. He pulled you closer, settling your legs in between his knees. 

“Tony did everything he could all these years to keep me from fighting him. We need this money, baby. We’re one step closer. We’re so close.”

You let yourself lean into Bucky’s touch, bringing your hands up to grip onto his wrists as you continued to cry. “I don’t want him to hurt you like he hurt me.”

Bucky hated thinking about what Rumlow did to you before you found the courage to leave. It took everything in him not to beat that sick son of a bitch every time their paths crossed. Which wasn’t often, but enough to get Bucky to think about it.

Luckily, Brock knew to steer clear of anybody from the Big Three. He wasn’t stupid. One wrong move and he could completely lose his contract. Though, it didn’t stop him from taunting Rogers or Wilson anytime he saw them, a disgusting grin splattered on his face, beaming with pride that he almost killed one of them and completely ruined the career of the other.

“I got this, babydoll. Then it’ll be one step closer to me and you.”

–

“Bucky ‘The Winter Soldier’ Barnes!”

The announcer’s voice pierced through the stadium, causing you to cringe. He hated that name, it was chosen for him by his father, whom Bucky resented throughout the entirety of the man’s life, until quite literally the day he died. He tried to change it, but everyone refused. He couldn’t change his brand this late in the game.

“And aren’t we lucky to have the infamous Big Three in the arena with us tonight!”  The other announcer exclaimed as Bucky walked up to the ring with Steve and Sam in tow, his walk up song blaring through the speakers.

“And all three wives in the stands, it’s a family affair!” The screens lit up with the view of you, Natasha and Sonya sitting side by side in the stands, all adorned in T-shirts with Bucky’s face on them, and you did what all 3 of you were trained to do. 

Smile and wave.

It was rare that all 6 of you were there at the same time. There was usually a straggler or two in the mix. Either someone had to stay home with the kids, a relative was in town, work came up, or you stayed backstage to sneak away from the fanfare.

“And don’t they all look stunning as ever!”

“Get this camera off of me so I can take a sip of my damn margarita.” Sonya mumbled, though continued to smile and point to her Bucky shirt.

You couldn’t help but cover your mouth as you laughed, trying to remain composed for the camera so nobody would speculate later. You could already see the fans on twitter spewing lies about Sonya having an attitude and being ungrateful.

The camera changed to Bucky, who seemed to be looking right at you so you turned, making eye contact with your man.

He broke into the most gorgeous smile you’d ever seen and your heart burst just before he blew you a kiss, causing the arena to erupt in cheers. You caught the kiss and pressed it to your cheek.

“What a sweet moment, but it’s time to move on.” The announcer’s voice rang in your ears once more.

“I love you.” You mouthed.

“I love you more.” Bucky mouthed back.

–

The fight with Beck went as everyone predicted. Bucky won, of course, but not without a fight from Beck. Which left him bruised and bleeding, but nothing nearly as bad as you some of the times you had seen him before, which was a thought you hated but it was a relief for now.

Bucky could feel the ache down to his bones. 

Not of pain, or exhaustion, or anger.

The ache of how much he loved and completely adored you as he looked down at you, your head in his lap, completely enthralled by the movie playing in front of you as if the two of you hadn’t seen it countless times. Bucky could recite it beginning to finish.

“Here’s looking at you, kid.”

Bucky spoke along with Humphrey Bogart on the screen and you smiled, slightly turning your head to look at your husband, and he was already looking at you.

“Sap.”

Bucky smirked and leaned down to place his lips on your temple, lingering there for a moment before sitting back up and letting his eyes return to the movie, his fingers mindlessly running up and down your torso.

You stayed that way for a while, positions switched, Bucky’s eyes glued to the TV, and yours glued to him.

The purples and blues on his face made you frown, and you could just cry at how beautiful he looked, face illuminated by the black and white of Casablanca, his perfect lips unconsciously mouthing the words.

You yearned for this life forever with him. Everyday he promised you were one step, a couple thousand dollars closer to living up to his contract and getting all of the money he was owed. He could be a trainer with Sam. Still bring home consistent money, but be safe,

Safe.

The word rang in your ears until you winced.

Safe. Safe. Safe. Safe.

Nothing about your life, except for Bucky, felt safe. 

It felt completely out of control, unpredictable, scary.

Bucky knew that and it broke his heart to know you went through everyday life being scared out of your mind. He’d break his contract now if he wasn’t completely certain, without a shadow of a doubt, that the two of you were going to come out the other side of this happier and more secure than ever.

“We’ll always have Paris.”

You’ll always have me.

–

Bucky had been at the gym for nearly 6 hours.

Sam put him on a strict “No visitors” rule, and “Yes, Mrs. Barnes that applies to you.”

And an “Especially, you!” From Tony.

Bucky didn’t have his phone on him, and you understood, he really did need to focus, the fight was in 5 days. Steve assured you that his phone would be on and close to him in case of emergencies, same went for Tony, Sam and Wanda.

So, you decided the best way to spend your time was with Sonya and Nat, using them as a distraction while the three of you holed up in your apartment, sipping seltzers and playing drinking games like you were teenagers again. Sonya left the girls with their Aunt for the day.

“Okay, if you could marry anyone in the big three, not including your own husband, who would it be?” Sonya asked, a smug look on her face before she added, “If you refuse to answer you take a shot.”

“Barnes. Without a doubt.” Nat said without hesitation and Sonya laughed at her transparency, covering her mouth with her hand.

“What?!” Natasha asked as you laughed as well, clutching your stomach.

“Have you seen where you live? Not only is it gorgeous but Bucky lets you decorate it however the fuck you want! And I’ve never once seen you have to ask him to do anything. He even cleans! Cleans!!!”

You and Sonya continued to cackle as Natasha continued to ramble, tears streaming down your cheeks while you clutched onto each other’s hands.

“Nat, baby, if you were so unhappy with Steve you shoulda said something!” Sonya joked, still holding back chuckles.

“I’m not unhappy with Steve! Wouldn’t trade him for the world! But, gun to his head, I had to trade him or else he’d die, I’d pick Bucky!”

You laughed, shrugging in agreement. You couldn’t blame her.

“You know what, I think I’d go with Mr. Barnes too. Y’all know I love Sam and I love our girls and don’t slap me for saying this either but he is entirely too easy on the eyes.”

The three of you burst out laughing again. You didn’t feel the slightest bit annoyed or jealous. These were your best friends, your sisters, who loved their husbands, and you, and each other’s husbands, and Bucky like family, and protected and fought for you like family. You thought it was kind of endearing actually, that they could see how yours and Bucky’s love was something special.

“You never said your answer, babe.” Nat said, gesturing to you with her can.

You pondered for a moment. Both men had been so good to you on so many different levels.

“Sam, but only because he was so good to me with the whole Brock thing, I don’t know if I could ever repay him. And you, Son.”

The vibe changed after that, your friends’ faces softened and the air felt heavy.

Sonya shook her head, exhaling through her nose, mumbling your name as if she were scolding you.

She wasn’t.

“Nothing can compare to that fear I felt. Nothing. It still keeps Sam up at night too.”

You frowned.

“But we’d do it again a million times if you needed us to. We would.”

She leaned forward, taking your hand, “Don’t ever, ever, insinuate that you owe us a damn thing. We fucking love you.”

You smiled, not realizing you were crying until the tears were wetting your lips. You were quick to wipe them.

Natasha had stayed silent for the most part, letting the two of you have your moment, she hadn’t been around then.

“And even though I wasn’t there I also fucking love you and would probably die for you.”

The moment was over almost as quickly as it began, the three of you going back to drinking and asking each other outlandish questions, until your phone rang.

“It’s m’ husbandd!” You sang, holding the phone up to your ear and smiling, your cheeks burning from intoxication.

“Hi, gorgeous. I’ve been tryin’ to open the door for ages. Did you lock the top?”

You gasped and slapped a hand to your mouth before hurriedly running to the front door, fumbling with the lock only for a moment before swinging it open to reveal a tired and amused Bucky, followed by Steve and Sam, lazy smiles pulling at their lips.

“Oh, my handsome boys! I locked you out! However, will you forgive me?!” You threw your arms around Bucky, falling into his embrace and he responded by peppering your face with kisses.

“Make me a double jack and coke and I might consider it.” Sam said, sauntering into the room and into the dining room, to sweep Sonya off of her feet no doubt. Steve did the same, before muttering, “I’ll show myself to the refrigerator.”

“Good man.” Bucky responded as he walked you into your home, shutting the door behind him with his foot.

“I missed you.” You mumbled against his lips while he kissed you again.

“Oh, my doll, my soul ached for you.”

“You watch too many 50’s movies, Barnes.”

“Are you complaining, darling?”

“Not at all.”

“Well then, here’s looking at you, kid.”

–

Bucky was stressed.

So incredibly stressed he felt like he might throw up.

He was fighting Brock Rumlow today.

He knew he could take him, that’s not what Bucky was worried about. He was worried about you. The thought of you in the private room, tears rolling down your face and shaky breaths filling the air, with him unable to hold you made him feel sick. He wanted you to stay home, in fact he practically begged you to stay home with Natasha and Sonya to keep you from turning on the TV but you completely refused. You’d be there, sporting a T-shirt with his name and face on it, and you’d look Rumlow dead in the eye while you celebrated victory with Bucky.

You would not hide.

And Bucky was so incredibly proud of you. His brave girl. But that didn’t change the fact that he was worried out of his mind.

“It isn’t too late to change your mind, doll.”

You were applying last minute makeup in the bathroom of your private room in the arena, Bucky behind you, his chin resting on your shoulder.

“I’m only leaving this arena when you do.”

“Okay.” He said softly, pressing a kiss to your shoulder.

“Whatever you do, baby, block him out. Don’t listen to his taunting. He’s trying to get in your head.”

Bucky nodded, wrapping his arms around your waist and lightly squeezing.

“Any chance you wanna back out together?” You asked, a sad smile on your face, knowing the answer.

Bucky only sighed and kissed your cheek.

It wasn’t long before Steve and Sam came to collect Bucky, or maybe it was. You could’ve stayed in that bathroom forever if it meant Bucky wouldn’t get hurt.

You followed behind him as he exited the room, his large hand engulfing yours. You had to get to your seat and he had to get to his place to talk and warm up before his walk out.

You connected your forehead to his and looked into his eyes, giving him a nod and a kiss before you separated, going to find Tony and Wanda, who would take you to your seats with Nat and Sonya.

You weren’t as high up in the stands as you usually were, requesting to be right next to the ring for this fight.

Everyone questioned the decision but you put your foot down. You wanted to be in Bucky’s eyeline, wanted him to easily see you. 

You wanted to reach him easily if anything went south.

You didn’t pay attention as Tony patted your shoulder, or as Nat and Sonya squeezed your arms when Brock’s walk out song began, or the sympathetic glance Wanda shot your way when Brock looked at you with a nasty grin.

Bucky entered the ring and your heart stopped.

His eyes were glued to you.

You nodded.

He nodded.

“Lookin’ at you.” He mouthed.

“Always.” You mouthed back.

You don’t know where that became your thing in the past two weeks, or how it just now blossomed even though the two of you had been watching that movie for ages, but you adored it and thought it to be incredibly sweet.

The moment was short lived before Brock started mouthing off, but Bucky kept his cool, his hands clasped behind his back and his head held high.

You couldn’t hear what he was saying, though you were sure you didn’t want to.

Bucky was thanking God you couldn’t hear what he was saying.

“You take pride in the fact that you stole what was mine, Barnes?!”

Bucky said nothing.

“I wouldn’t think sloppy seconds were your style.”

Nothing.

“I see you’ve got your bitch sitting in the front row. Tight leash, huh?”

His blood was boiling but he didn’t flinch.

“Does she scream for you like she did for me?”

Bucky was just waiting for the ref to blow the whistle, he was itching to slam his face into the mat.

“She’s a good fuck, isn’t she Barnes?”

The whistle blew, and it was Bucky who was face down on the mat in seconds.

You wanted to gasp when Bucky went down but you held your composure, not only for him but also for the thousands of eyes on you, no doubt just waiting for a hysterical reaction.

But Bucky was quick, and regained himself quickly, taking his turn to pin Rumlow to the mat, holding his arm behind his back so he could not get back up.

It was brutal. The entire fight was vicious, blood and sweat ran down both men’s faces, drenching their necks and chests and you wanted to cry at the sight of Bucky’s already swelling bruises on his knees and face. His chest was heaving, and the look in his eyes was something you had never seen, even in all his years of fighting some of his toughest opponents in the ring. It was dark.

He was angry.

For Bucky, this was the best way for him to take out his anger on Rumlow for what that man had done to you. The years of nightmares and overthinking and tears and anguish.

“Damnit, I said no!” Bucky’s voice thundered across the kitchen, in perfect timing with his hand flying through the air to run through his hair and you flinched.

Your Bucky.

Your lovely Bucky who danced with you as the moonlight pooled into the room through your curtains on nights where you couldn’t sleep. 

Your gentle Bucky who wiped your tears and washed your hair when your days were just too much.

Your patient Bucky who sat with you and instructed you to breathe with him, your hand to his chest when he’d come home to you panicking.

Your Bucky.

And you fucking flinched.

“Bucky I- I’m sorry. I just-”

He shook his head, his angry demeanor had completely vanished, his pretty blue eyes soft and beginning to fill with tears.

“Sweetheart, please don’t apologize. God, please don’t.

And just like that you were in his arms, a complete weeping mess because of what that man had put you through.

What Brock Rumlow had put you through.

That sick son of a bitch that was in front of Bucky now, a disgusting smirk on his face, blood seeping from his gums and smearing onto his teeth.

Bucky was certain he could kill him if it wouldn’t land him in prison.

“Come on, Buck.” You muttered, your knee rapidly bouncing up and down. You hadn’t noticed, but you were gripping Nat and Sonya’s hands.

You were trying your best to pay attention. Really, you were. But you kept going in and out of focus and flashbacks. You were sure people had caught multiple photos and videos of you spacing out, but you couldn’t really bring yourself to care.

Wanda has asked you multiple times if you wanted to go back and sit in the room, take a breather and maybe drink some water but you refused. You’d be right here.

And when the fight was finally over, when Bucky finally stood victorious over Rumlow while the ref held his red glove covered hand in the air and the crowd cheered, you could breathe again.

He was drenched in blood and bruises but you couldn’t feel anything except relief.

Bucky looked at you and you couldn’t help the tears that began to gather in your eyes and spill down your cheeks as you smiled at him. Nat and Sonya were cheering and hollering, jostling your shoulders and jumping up and down, planting kisses on your cheeks and the side of your head and you could barely notice.

Because Bucky was looking at you.

The ref let go of his hand and he made a dash to get out of the ring and to you, shoving past Sam and Steve trying to congratulate him, completely ignoring the med team trying to lead him away to check his injuries.

You. You. You.

You met him halfway even though your knees felt like jello and your hands were shaking, you took his face into those shaky hands and pressed your forehead to his as his hands rested on your waist.

“You did it.”

“I did it.”

–

Luckily, Bucky didn’t have any major injuries. After some stitches and some compression wrap on his ribs and wrists, he was cleared to leave.

You just couldn’t believe it. One of his biggest fights to date and he was walking away almost unscathed.

It almost felt too good to be true.

Despite how tired everyone felt, this was cause for celebration. You all decided to retreat to your respective homes and get ready for a nice dinner, just the 8 of you.

“Bucky this place has a coconut blood orange margarita!” You said from the bedroom as Bucky continued to get ready in the ensuite bathroom. You were putting on your shoes while browsing the menu on Yelp. You could never visit a restaurant without checking the menu first.

“That sounds right up your alley, doll!”

“I know!” 

Bucky emerged from the bathroom, looking as handsome as ever in his white button down and black slacks.

“Have as many of those as you want, sweetheart. Long as I get to take this” Bucky’s fingers ran along the fabric of your black dress, just simple cotton with a long slit coming up to almost your hip, “Pretty thing off of you when we get home.”

“You can do whatever you want to me when we get home, Mr. Barnes.”

Bucky smiled, his large hands grabbing at your waist as his bottom lip made its way between his teeth.

“God, you are so beautiful, Mrs. Barnes.” He hummed.

“As are you, my love.”

“Here’s lookin’ at you, kid.”

“Always.”

–

Dinner was completely perfect. Nothing but laughter and jokes, bread being thrown across the table while the waiters weren’t looking and you and Wanda taking secret sips of Tony’s $200 champagne when he was in the bathroom or on a call.

Bucky was never not touching you. Whether it was a hand gripping your thigh or his arm around the back of your chair, his fingers gently tracing the length of your arm, or your hand in his.

And, God, was he radiant.

His smile was ear to ear. His top buttons on his shirt were undone, showing off his chest and you could absolutely just eat him up. It was like heaven hearing him laugh at some stupid joke Sam had made or when Steve would get flustered at Natasha’s flirting after she’d had a couple glasses of wine, or Sonya scolding Sam after an inappropriate joke. He even took a couple photos with fans who had just watched the fight, all of them ecstatic to take a photo with the Bucky Barnes with the scars from the fight still fresh on him.

You were both so happy even once you decided to get the check and wrap up dinner. You’d had 4 coconut blood orange margaritas, a celebratory shot of tequila and Tony had even been kind enough to let you have a glass of his fancy champagne.

“You deserve it after these past two weeks, gorgeous.”

Bucky had agreed. You stuck by him ferociously and put on the bravest face, even in the presence of Brock Rumlow, you stood tall. He was so proud of you.

You were trying not to trip over your own feet in your much too tall heels on the way out to the valet. You felt fuzzy and drunk but you still couldn’t shake the feeling of the valet watching you entirely too closely.

“Bucky that guy keeps staring.” You whispered and Bucky’s head whipped around, the valet turned his head immediately.

“You’re a diamond, sweetheart. People can’t take their eyes off of ya.”

You nodded and smiled, though you were still entirely too uneasy, and Bucky could tell.

“Car’s comin’ around soon, baby. I gotcha.” His grip tightened around your waist and he moved in front of you so his body was blocking yours, but you could still see him. He wasn’t looking at you, he was looking at Bucky.

Steve’s car had barely pulled up to the restaurant when it happened.

It was like everything happened in slow motion.

You saw the gun first, Bucky’s eyes were still on you.

“What were you thinking?” He sobbed.

But that’s just the thing, you weren’t thinking. There wasn’t one thought in your head besides Bucky as you ripped yourself from his arms and shielded his body with yours, and gave him not even a second to react before the sound of a gun rang.

The valet was tackled to the ground in seconds.

An angry fan of Rumlow’s, no doubt.

How Bucky’s security team didn’t catch on sooner was beyond you. He had security with him everywhere, though they stuck to the sidelines so as to not disturb. There were a lot of wild fans out there who got very angry very easily about the outcome of fights, and it just wasn’t safe to go out alone.

You were in shock, your hands clutched your stomach but you didn’t even register you had been shot as scarlet red liquid thick as syrup seeped through your black dress and into your fingers.

Bucky’s arms were around you in an instant as he lowered you to the ground. You could hear the commotion and panic of other restaurant patrons around you. 

Blood was seeping into his white shirt. Your blood was seeping into his white shirt. He didn’t care. He couldn’t fucking care, not when the life was trickling out of you right before his eyes.

“Baby. Oh my god, oh my god.” Bucky was shaking, his voice thick with tears as he held you as close to him as he could.

“Somebody call 911!” Sam.

“I’m on it!” Tony.

Bucky wiped the hair from your face as his tears began to splotch on your face, he couldn’t bother wiping them.

Not when this could be his last time holding you.

You tried to close your eyes but Bucky tapped your cheek firmly. “Ya gotta keep your eyes open, sweetheart. Gotta stay with me, come on.”

You nodded, your head lulling to rest comfortably on Bucky’s chest as his body shook with the most vicious cries that had ever ripped through him. You continued to look at him, those pretty eyes that he adored so much looking up at him, but there was barely anything there.

“Bucky-”

“Save your energy, doll. Please. Ya gotta stay with me, okay?”

Your hand felt like heavy stone as you brought it up to hold Bucky’s face, weakly wiping his tears. “I love you.”

“No, no, no. Keep looking at me, baby. Keep lookin’ at me. Please.”

“So much.”

Bucky planted a kiss on your forehead as he continued to sob.

“I love you, doll. I love you so goddamn much that’s why you gotta stay, alright?”

He pulled away. “Here’s looking at you, kid. Remember? You remember, doll? Always.” 

You didn’t respond.

Bucky screamed.

–

Hospitals are so fucking gross.

It was something you firmly believed in since you watched your great grandfather die in one when you were 14. 

Full of dead, sick and dying people. Full of weeping family members and friends. 

“Don’t let me fucking die in a hospital, Bucky, I swear to God.” You had said.

Bucky always laughed when you went on your rants about how much you hated hospitals. Talking loudly and waving your hands around in the air. 

“I’ll never let you die in a hospital, sweetheart. Promise.”

And now here you were, lying in a hospital bed after 12 hours of surgery, hooked up to a heart monitor and Bucky thought how do you still look so impossibly beautiful?

It was just you and Bucky in the room. Tony, Wanda, Steve, Natasha, Sam, Sonya and their girls were all squished together in the waiting room. None of them had it in them to sit even an inch apart.

Not when they could lose you.

Bucky hadn’t cried in an hour. His eyes dry but still red and heavy, a headache that he was waiting to go away after a nurse gave him Tylenol booming in his temples. His blood stained shirt was discarded as soon as they wheeled you in for surgery. Steve gave him an extra T shirt stashed in his car.

He threw up in the bathroom while he was changing.

“You gotta wake up so you don’t die in a hospital, honey. Can’t have ya kickin’ my ass when I get to heaven for lettin’ that happen.”

The thought made his lip quiver. The doctors were hopeful after the surgery, but things don’t always go as planned. And he was fucking terrified.

“I’m gonna kick your ass for even letting them bring me to this awful place.” You mumbled.

The sound that came from Bucky had to have been embarrassing. Somewhere between a laugh and a sob as he stood up and immediately started fawning over you and pressed the nurse button to alert them you were awake.

“Oh, sweetheart.” He cried, his hands cupping your face and placing kisses all over your cheeks.

“I’m okay, Buck.”

“What were you thinking?” He sobbed, his face buried into your hair and you broke, wrapping your arms around his neck. The pain in your stomach didn’t even register because you just needed him closer.

“I wasn’t. I wasn’t thinking. I just- I saw the gun and he was gonna kill you Bucky.” “Don’t ever do that doll, not for me. God, please not for me.”

“I was so scared, Bucky. I didn’t wanna scare you but, I had- I had to tell you I loved you. I couldn’t leave this earth without telling you I loved you.”

“I know, baby. Just please, I can’t lose you. I can’t fuckin’ lose you.”

His whole body was shaking as he continued to hug you when the nurse came in. He awkwardly separated himself from you, his large body pushing itself off of the tiny bed.

She checked you over and ran a couple tests, and afterwards promised to go and alert your friends and allow them to come in.

While you waited to be bombarded by the people you called your family, Bucky had situated himself next to you in the bed, his arm around you, allowing you to put your weight onto him, and careful not to disturb your wound.

“Hey.” You whispered, bringing your hand up to hold his.

He looked down at you to find you already looking at him fondly.

“Here’s looking at you, kid.”

Bucky smiled, the most beautiful, genuine, sincere and heartstopping smile. He kissed you.

“Always.”

Got my own little mechanic AU happening in my city

I guess Bucky probably works with Steve, but goes and freelances when he wants to annoy Sam 😂😂

g eazy and chill?¿

MY (very smutty) Master List

Weiterlesen

Every. Single. Time.

Im balling my eyes out while reading the 2nd part.

Why am I doing this to myself.

Divorce Came With A Price

~ gif not mine credit goes to owner ~

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Summary: it’s been 6 months since he last saw you.

Word count: 1295

Warnings: Angst, I’m sorry. Death, cancer, suicide – please don’t read if the warnings upset you.

A/N: my mum cried when she read this.

Masterlist

Part 1

It’s been 6 months since Bucky last saw you, he’s hated it. He misses you. He misses your beautiful face, the way your smile makes his heart tingle. Misses the way your eyes shines brightly when you’re talking about your hobbies and interests. Misses the feel of your soft skin under his calloused hands. He just misses the love of his life, his other half - his sweet perfect wife. 

He remembers how your smile dropped as he tells you he wanted a divorce. Remembers the heartbreakingly look in your eyes as he told he’d been having an affair. That one look has haunted his dreams, his every waking moment. He can still feel the acid in his throat as he wills himself to nod as you ask that one question. Nothing more nothing less. You just wanted that one question to be answered and he couldn’t even look at you let alone answer verbally. He didn’t even know you left the house until the divorce hearing; he watched you walk away with Matt and Foggy wishing he could say something but nothing comes out. He watched as your feet falter when you see Carly. He knows exactly what you’re thinking.

But It’s over now.

It’s over now and he can get you back.

It’s over now and he’s hoping and praying that you’ll understand and forgive him.

It’s over now and he’s going to move heaven and earth to have his love back in his arms.

He finds out you’ve been staying with Matt since he broke both of your hearts. How does he do this? How does he knock on the door hoping that neither one of you punches him in the face (not that he doesn’t deserve it) he just hopes you’ll listen to him.

Bucky walks into the florist to get the biggest bouquet of your favourite flowers he can get. 

The skies start to turn dark even with the sun shining brightly, if he didn’t know any better he’d think it was forewarning for what’s to come.

Knocking on the wooden door it’s Matt that greats him. “What? What are you doing here” if Bucky wasn’t a super soldier he’d be scared with the tone in Matts voice.

“I-um I need to see Y-Y/N. Please”

“She’s not here. She’s not here anymore” Bucky can’t understand why Matt sounds broken.

“Well um where does she live now?” He’s trying not to stumble off his words.

“No James you don’t understand” Matt looks up towards the ceiling then continues but doesn’t get the chance.

“What do you mean I don’t understand? Matt look I know you hate me for what I did to Y/N but I had a reason, I just need to see her to explain it to her. Please Matt just tell me where she lives”. He begging and pleading and it’s clear as day in the way his voice wavers.

Matt speaks in a fast manner “Get inside before Ms Jenson comes out and complains” 

The apartments a mess, there’s takeaway boxes laying around, the sinks full of pots and there’s trash overflowing in the bin. The apartment looks nothing like it did 8 months prior when Y/N and himself went round for a double date with Matt and some woman he can’t remember the name of. Matt sits down and lazily waves his arm round for Bucky to sit to.

“Matt wher-“ he doesn’t get to finish his sentence.

“James she’s gone, she’s dead.” The air is cut off. The room is spinning. His world has ended. He doesn’t know what to do or say so he stares blankly at Matt waiting for the punchline of a joke that isn’t even remotely funny. Matt understands he needs to say more so he does. “That day you told her you wanted a divorce to be with your side piece she’d been at the hospital for her results. It was cancer. Terminal. She’d been told she had about 6 months to a year left. Her insurance didn’t cover her medical expenses so she stopped treatment, I told her I would pay but you know what she’s like-was like. 3 weeks ago she made me go out on a date with Karen she said she’d be fine and made me promise I’d have a good time. I got home around 11 and went to bed. The next morning, I couldn’t hear her walking around, so I went into her room, she um she’d taken pills, enough to end her life. It was too late to do anything, they said she’d been gone for 18 hours. Id only been gone for an hour” tears stream down both of the men’s faces. Matt struggles to continues “she begged me not to say anything to you, she didn’t want to get in the way of your relationship. She thought if you knew you’d change your mind and not divorce her just because she was dying. Y/N begged me James so I couldn’t I couldn’t do that to her-“ Bucky cuts him off. 

“I didn’t have an affair. I swear. Hydra was after me again and I had to divorce Y/N so she wouldn’t get hurt. I told her I had an affair so she would divorce me, I knew cheating was a deal breaker so I lied. I fucking lied and she’s dead. I lied and she’s not even going to know the truth.” He tries so hard to continue but can’t his airway is closing up. He passes out.

10 years have been and gone, the pain of losing the only person he has ever loved didn’t stop not that he wants it to. Bucky wants to remember the pain. 

In the 10 years that have passed he’s visits your grave every Friday, wedding anniversary, the date you two got together, the date he proposed, your birthday and on Christmas. After the fifth year Steve told him he needed to move on, and well long story short they had a fight and Bucky cried saying he couldn’t move on. In the end everyone around him understood that he would never move on from the love of his life. He sits there no matter the weather and talks to you for hours. He told you Matt and Karen were having a baby girl, then told you they named her after you. Told you all about his cat Alpine. After every visit without fail or another thought he tells you he loves you and can’t wait to see you again.

It’s been 10 years 5 months 12 days since you passed away and Bucky’s on his way to see you.

He’s on a mission that’s gone horribly wrong he’s been shot too many times. He’s so tired and Steve’s trying to get him to stay awake but it’s no use.

“Stevie p-please stop. I w-wan-t to be w-ith my Y-Y/N I need to be with h-er” Even though Bucky gasps for breaths his voice is strong enough to let Steve and the team know that this is what he wants. Steve gives him a slow nod with tears sliding down his cheeks, he clasps hands with his best friend and keeps locked tight long after Bucky takes his last breath.

He leaves the world with a smile on his face.

You stand there waiting for him and as soon as you lock eyes with him you’re running. Jumping into his arms and before he can say anything you kiss him. Hard. After you separate you tell him you know the truth. You heard him every time he would visit your grave. You tell each other how much you love one another. You take his hand and lead him into your new life.

Tags: @learisa @bruher @pattiemac1 @kentokaze @almosttoopizza @yvessaintmuerte

~ banners credit goes to @sweetpeapod ~

H.C.M.C Masterlist || COMPLETED

Pairing: Biker!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Reader is new to Brooklyn and after an incident at the garage belonging to Howling Commandos Motorcycle Club, her life is changed forever.

Series Warnings: Violence, blood, knives, guns, smut, death

Club Members

Clubhouse/Lot

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Epilogue