#(bucky voice)

[stiffyck]

ARMED AND DANGEROUS

[bubbarnes]

“... Captain America? No, sorry. You mean Thunderbolts? Let me tell you, it was a much quieter year for me because I didn't see Anthony Mackie. So, I'll say that.”

[sparks-and-smoke]

Hello! Could I get a fic about Bucky accidentally finding the reader’s Christmas gifts to him? Maybe he tries (and fails) to act surprised?

Thank you (ps I know it’s after Christmas, sue me)

Aww~ I don't care that it's too late for the holidays. It's cute! Merry Christmas (belated)

Characters/Pairings: Bucky x reader (code name honey)

Content/Warnings: none it’s just goofy holiday fluff

Author Note: merry late Christmas, this may or may not be loosely based in the Fate Stone AU I have brewing. (which since you are my beta reader ;) you already know about it.)

You are a notoriously bad gift giver, Bucky had been warned many times. He didn’t really care. As long as it came from the heart it couldn’t possibly be that bad. He could put up with socks or a cheesy mug as long as it came from you. But this was worse, so much worse. 

“Sam, I don't even know what to do with it.” Bucky rubbed his eyes with the palm of his hands, confiding in the only other person he knew that wouldn’t immediately tell Honey. “Can I be honest here, it’s hideous.”

Sam was keeping a pretty good poker face over his mug poker but the situation was undeniably funny. “It can’t possibly be that bad.” But Bucky’s mortified face said it all. “Why were you spying on her gift away?”

“I didn’t mean too! Necessarily. She hid it in the bottom of the closet, man. She didn’t even hide it well... I’m a spy, I notice things. Plus it was pretty hard to miss.” The blanket had been tucked away in the back of the walk-in closet under a few other things. But the obnoxious colors of the corner peeking out from under the folded jeans had caught his eyes. They didn’t own anything in orange. Anything.  

His honey had gotten him a blanket, which would normally have been so very sweet seeing how Bucky hated being cold, but it wasn’t just a blanket. It was one of those viral blankets, the ones that are loosely based on 70’s rock band merch with lighting and thunder clouds rolling in the background. It’s featured pictures of Alpine, every goofy spastic picture of the cat that his girl could find with her name in the boldest font Bucky had ever seen. Honestly it hurt his eyes, and as Bucky went about describing it to Sam the other man damn near fell out of his chair. 

“That is perfect. No really I think she might be a genius. I’m gonna need a video of you opening that one.” Sam goaded.

“You're not helping.” Bucky growls, guilt twisting in his guts like a worm, but Sam was too busy laughing to try and give a shit. “How am I gonna act surprised now? Let alone be excited?”

“I don’t dude, I guess you need to start taking an acting class.” Sam wiped the tears from his eyes.

~~~~

Bucky watched with crinkled eyes as you opened your gifts from him. A nice wool winter coat because all you owned was a puffer, and while it was adorable on you and always kept you warm you always said you wanted something dressier for date night. And in your stocking an assortment of your favorite treats, skin care you were low on, and that perfume that you had been drooling over since October but always talked yourself out of because of the price tag. Bucky had been making a list since your birthday, keeping tabs on what you lingered on in stores and what you sighed at as you scrolled. He knew his girl and he knew her well. And the way you lit up with every item told him he hit it out of the park. 

“Do you like it Honey?” he asked, his chin propped on his hand. His face couldn’t have been softer or voice more full of love as he watched you glow with joy. 

“I love it. How did you even know what eye cream I use?” 

“It wasn't that hard doll.” Bucky laughed, it sits in a clear box on your vanity of course he knows. 

“Here! Open yours.” You hand him his stocking and the present wrapped in pretty silver paper, looking so excited you may vibrate across the floor. He plastered on his best game face as his stomach did a little flip. Do not ruin this for her Barnes. 

He starts with the stocking. Pulling out body wash and a cologne scented with that smoky bourbon and apple scent you were fond of, along with a small batch roasted coffee and some new gloves. So far so good, and he made sure to kiss you. “I love it honey.”

“Yeah, but you haven’t opened your big one.” you say with a twinkle in your eyes that makes him wanna melt into the floor. Should he tell her, confess he saw it? Risk it and pretend he loves it? 

“You’re right I haven’t.” he corrects himself with a smile picking up the package. It was instantly heavier than he remembered and as he tears open the package he has a brief (very guilty) moment of hoping that maybe he was wrong…

But no there it is. That hideous blanket that he knows instantly from the look on your face he is gonna end up snuggling under for the rest of time just to see you smile the way you are right in this moment. He opened his mouth to tell you thanks as genuinely as he could muster but honey was already biting her bottom lip. A fit of giggles falling out of her. “You already saw it didn’t you!” she managed to get out between chitters. 

“What?! No- I…” 

A pillow from the couch flew at his head. “I knew you would. You little sneak, you do this every year!” Honey chastised as Bucky dodged another swing with the pillow. 

“Hey! Whoa!” Bucky's arms go up in a weak attempt at blocking her little onslaught. “I didn’t mean too!”

“Bullshit James Buchanan!” thump, a hit to his ribs. “You did it on your birthday.” Whack, a bump to the top of his head. “You somehow sniffed out the tickets I bought to Coney Island.” one more swing but this time Bucky caught the pillow, pulling you into his lap with it. 

“I did not do it on purpose!” he defended, but he was beaming. Eyes crinkling in the corner as she glared playfully. “I didn’t!” 

“Yeah, you just somehow stumbled upon the blanket I hid under the laundry in the back of our closet.”

“I was looking for my coat!” 

“On the ground?”

Bucky was caught, because yes he had been looking. He always did. The man couldn’t help it, he always was just too curious. “Yea, I thought so you little rat! Do you like it?” she asks earnestly. And Bucky feels that gnawing feeling again, trying not to let it show on his face. 

“It’s… super fluffy.” he tries to deflect, hating to lie to honey, but her face is already breaking into a grin. What the hell?

“You hate it.” she beams. “It’s hideous huh?”

Bucky frowns, slouching back in his chair. Did she want him to hate it. “Uh, yeah it is..” 

“Good thing it’s not your actual present huh.” 

Bucky's eyes narrow. “You little-” She did this on purpose, hid the most outrageous thing she could find just to punish him for spoiling presents. Clever girl. Weeks of fretting over how he was gonna pull this off and SHE KNEW THE WHOLE TIME. With a giggle honey climbs off his lap and back behind the couch, pulling out a slim package from the cavern behind, and Bucky’s face nearly splits in half. 

“Here. Merry Christmas.” She offers him the parcel with a kiss, sitting in his lap as he unwraps it, and he feels his heart flutter a little. It’s a scrapbook. Full of pictures of him, her, Alpine and their friends. Taken by everyone who has known them the last few years. There isn’t a lot, he doesn’t like taking pictures, preferring to take them. So she must have scoured their friends' phones to find all of these and Bucky can feel tear picking the backs of his eyes. Good tears. 

“Thank you Honey. I love it. I love you…”

[fandomfluffandfuck]

Everyone needs some pre-serum Steve feeling himself 👀

uncensored and bare minimum sketches under the cut

[hogans-heroes]

Callum saying John and Gale were “beautiful together” in that interview makes me so emotional 🥺

[goldthorn-archive]

rn im thinking about john egan’s pilot voice. yk how pilots have a specific sort of cadence when talking over the mic system? yeah, major john egan does that when giving orders over the intercom, draws out certain words and clips others, new york accent accentuated

[jiyascepter]

Thor and the Winter Soldier in What if...? | 2.02

[fevervoidthing]

Another comic dub!! This one is this awesome mascot horror comic by @summeryseaserpent !!

[sjsmith56]

Neighbourly

Summary: Bucky meets the new neighbour but it doesn’t go well at first.

Length: 5.4 K

Characters: Bucky Barnes, OFC (named but not described), OMC (2 named characters, one described, one not)

Warnings: Cursing, Bucky being a bit of grumpy jerk at first, reference to bad marriage, ex-husband makes an appearance, Bucky’s inner voices chew him out a bit.

Author notes: This is quite fluffy.

🪟 💐 🍕

The first time they met was when a big crash from the hallway outside Bucky’s apartment door startled him. Then he heard the swearing even over the sound of his music.

“Fucking shitty paper bag!” yelled the female voice.

He stood at his door looking out the peephole, seeing a woman bent over picking up scattered groceries and muttering. Unlocking his door, he opened it, causing her to glance in his direction.

“Need help?” he asked.

There was a big sigh, then she looked up and hesitated when she made eye contact.

“No, I can handle it.” She bent back over, then looked over her shoulder. “Thanks anyway.”

“Suit yourself,” he replied and closed the door, returning to his book and his music.

The second time they met was about a week later when he heard three knocks on his door. Looking out the peephole he saw the same woman, facing his door. Unlocking his, he opened it and gazed down at her. She swallowed, as if realizing he was bigger than she originally thought, then scratched her head.

“I locked myself out and the super isn’t answering the door or my phone calls. One of the neighbours said you sometimes are willing to climb up the fire escape and … and break in.”

Bucky resisted the urge to smile but folded his arms over his chest.

“What’s in it for me?”

“What?”

“It’ll cost you.”

“How much?”

He shrugged. “How much you got?”

She clamped her mouth shut, as if attempting to stave off something from coming out of it, then shook her head.

“Never mind. I’ll figure something out.”

Turning away she headed for the stairwell, and he closed his door, locking it. That was when he heard the crying, and he slumped against the wall.

“Good going asshole, you made her cry.”

“I was only joking.”

“Yeah, she thought it was hilarious.”

Unlocking his door again, he went to the stairwell where she was sitting on the top step. As she heard him approach, she wiped her eyes with her hands and looked out the window at a building across the street. Silently, he sat next to her and fished out his handkerchief, handing it to her. She took it and wiped her eyes again.

“Sorry, I was trying to be funny, but it wasn’t.”

“No, it wasn’t,” she agreed. “I don’t have much of anything, not even a job, and I burned through a good portion of my savings to move here, which is looking more and more like a stupid decision.”

“Divorce?”

“Something like that.” She sighed. “Can you help me?”

“Yeah, I can. Wait here and I’ll climb up there.”

She nodded and watched as he went down the stairs. A few minutes later, she heard her door open, and she turned around to see him waiting for her in her open doorway. Standing up, she walked towards the big man and entered as he stepped out into the hallway.

“I had to break the lock on your window, so I’ll head to the hardware store and pick up a new one. I can get you a new chain as well, as the one that’s on your door has seen better days.”

“Thank you,” she answered, then she put her hand out. “I’m Brooke.”

He shook her hand, noticing he had forgotten to wear his gloves. “Bucky.”

She nodded, then handed him his handkerchief back and closed the door, locking it. Bucky stood there for a moment, then put his handkerchief back in his pocket. Returning to his apartment he put his jacket and gloves on, and headed to the hardware store, more of a little hole in the wall operated by a bent over old man, Isaac. As the bell over the door tinkled with his arrival, Isaac came out from the back.

“Bucky, what do you need?”

“A new window lock and a door chain,” he replied, letting the old man search the cluttered shelves for them. “How are you, Isaac?”

“You know how it is for us elderly folks,” he chuckled. “Everywhere hurts but I’m not ready to retire so I work through it. Helps to own the building. If I had to pay the going rent for this size of store, I’d have been out of business years ago.”

“Well, I like your store. Reminds me of when I was a kid and I’d do odd jobs, like sweeping the floor, or cleaning out the storeroom.”

“You need a job, Bucky? If you know bookkeeping, I could use your help.”

“No, I’m on call for the Avengers and can’t commit to regular hours,” replied the super soldier. “My new neighbour needs a job. Maybe I should ask her?”

“A lady? Is she pretty?” Isaac peered up at Bucky with his watery eyes.

“Yeah, she is attractive.”

“You should ask her out. That would be neighbourly.”

“I just met her a week ago and I don’t think she’s looking for company,” answered Bucky. “I think she’s going through a breakup.”

The old man hummed. “That’ll be 8 dollars and 47 cents.” He watched as Bucky opened his wallet, taking out a ten-dollar bill. “Faint heart never won fair lady.”

“I’m not a coward, Isaac,” answered Bucky. “I just don’t want to pressure her when I don’t know her story.”

The old man dropped the change into Bucky’s hand and put the lock and chain into a small paper bag.

“So, start with coffee. That’s no pressure.”

“Thanks, I’ll think about it.”

With a wave, he left the store and headed back to his place. It used to be so easy back in the late 1930s and early 1940s. Women wouldn’t leave him alone, especially when he was in uniform. But that was a lifetime ago and he wasn’t the same man. His anxiety made him clam up or say the wrong thing. A lot of women now were also suspicious of a man who came on too strong, usually with good reason. They sweet talked their way into a woman’s life then made her life miserable by trying to control her, equating it with being masculine. He huffed a little, angry at guys who believed in that alpha male shit.

“You’re working yourself up over it again. Let it go.”

He was getting bothered by thinking of it again and breathed deeply as he walked. Soon, he was at the door to his apartment building and headed up the stairs to his floor. Knocking on Brooke’s door he could hear music inside then footsteps before hearing the sound of her looking out the peephole.

“I have your new lock and chain,” he said, holding the bag up.

She opened the door and stepped back as he stepped in.

“Do you have any tools?”

She shook her head, and he headed back to his place, picking up what he needed. The door was ajar, and he stepped inside to see her unpacking a box of books.

“Me again.” He headed over to the window and unscrewed the broken lock, then lined up the new lock. “Do you have any toothpicks or matchsticks?”

“No, why?”

“I put them in the hole of the old screw, just to fill it in a bit and provide something for the new screw to grab onto. I think I have some. Give me another minute.”

He came back with some wood glue, and several toothpicks and broke them in half. He poured some glue into the holes left behind by the old screws, then stuffed the broken toothpicks into the small holes. After he fitted the new lock over it, he screwed it into place, testing it several times.

“There you go, almost as good as new. Now the door chain.”

She smiled at him and kept unpacking the box, although she glanced over several times as he replaced the door chain. When he tested it, he was satisfied and unlatched the new chain, then opened the door.

“All done.”

“How much do I owe you?” she asked.

“I broke the lock so nothing for that,” he said. “As for the chain … have coffee with me sometime. There’s a nice coffee shop about a block away. I just like regular black coffee so I’m a cheap date, even though it wouldn’t be a date. It would just be neighbours catching up on neighbourhood things.”

A slight smile crossed her face and she nodded.

“Okay, I’ll buy you a coffee. Tomorrow morning at 9:30?”

“Yeah, that sounds good,” he said, smiling. “See you then.” He stopped. “I almost forgot. The owner of the hardware store is looking for a bookkeeper. I said I would ask if you were interested. His name is Isaac and he’s a sweet old man. If you are interested just tell him you’re my neighbour.”

About 15 minutes later Bucky heard Brooke’s door open and close, and footsteps heading towards the stairwell.

“I guess she’s interested in the job.”

That night, Bucky was called for a mission, and he slipped a note under Brooke’s door explaining that he had to go out of town for work, apologizing for missing their coffee date. It would be another week before he saw her again.

When he returned it was late, he was exhausted, and he fell into bed immediately, still in his clothes. It was light when he woke up and he quickly had a shower, then went across the hall and knocked on the door. There was no answer and as he listened carefully, he couldn’t hear any signs of her being there. He went to the coffee shop, but she wasn’t there so he walked past the hardware store, glancing in and saw her at the counter. Opening the door, he stepped inside, the bell on the door announcing his presence.

“You’re back,” she smiled.

“You’re here,” he answered. Then he looked around, noticing the store wasn’t as cluttered as it had been. “What’s happened here?”

“I got the bookkeeper job, then Isaac asked if I could help him organize the store better, so we worked on it all week and this ….” She gestured all around her. “This is what we did. He asked if I wanted to work the counter as well, so I’ve basically got a full-time job now. What do you think?”

Bucky smiled, noticing how excited she seemed to be. “I’m happy for you. You and Isaac obviously hit it off well. Where is he?”

“He’s upstairs in his apartment having a late breakfast. I could call him for you, if you want.”

“No, that’s okay. I was just hoping for that coffee date.”

“The date that isn’t a date, you mean.” She grinned. “Isaac told me you think I’m attractive.”

“I might have said something to that effect.” His face felt warm. “I guess I have to wait until you have a break.”

“Or, we could have a real date.” Now her face was warm. “I kind of owe you for the job. It’s only fair.”

“Tonight?”

“I’m off at 5, and I would like some time to get ready. Pick me up at 6:30?”

“6:30,” he smiled. “Do you like Italian?”

“Love it.”

“Until then.”

He felt a little self-conscious when he left but when he stepped out onto the street, he felt good that somehow, he managed to change a brief coffee date to a real one. Now, all he had to do was get ready. First, he stopped and picked up some flowers. Despite Sam telling him that men didn’t do that these days it was one habit that he really didn’t want to give up. He liked giving women flowers and he thought Brooke might appreciate the sentiment.

Next, what was he going to wear? Right now, his wardrobe was almost exclusively Tshirts, Henley shirts, and well-worn black or blue jeans. He looked down at his scuffed boots. They wouldn’t do. Perhaps a switch to nicer jeans and a button-down shirt would be good. His leather jacket was a little worn as well, so maybe a cloth one would be a good change, especially with the warmer weather. There was a little men’s wear shop on the next block. Perhaps he could go there, tell them what he wanted and not have to spend too much time deciding on colours and styles. When he found himself in front of the shop window, while looking at the mannequins he almost turned around and walked away but a man inside saw him and waved him in. With a deep breath, he opened the door and entered the shop. The man looked him over before speaking.

“Let me guess, you hate shopping for clothing but now you have to attend a special event and you don’t have anything nicer.”

“I have a date.” Bucky’s answer was brief and to the point since his anxiety had already increased. “It’s still casual but these clothes aren’t nice enough for that.”

“I see. What were you thinking?”

“Nicer blue jeans, a button-down shirt, cloth jacket, and nicer shoes than my boots. We’re just going to a little Italian restaurant I like. It’s nothing special but I want to look better than I do now.”

The man studied Bucky as he walked around him. “Do you know your size?”

He shrugged. “I just took what I thought looked right and tried them on. Then I bought extra so I didn’t have to come back. I have issues.”

“Would you allow me to measure you, properly? I promise to make it as quick as possible, but these clothes are a little snug and you want a little give in your clothing for comfort’s sake.”

“I just want solid colours, nothing patterned, or fancy. I’m just an ordinary guy.”

He asked Bucky to remove the leather jacket, then measured quickly around his chest, neck and back. He measured the left arm, noting the firmness of it but not saying anything. Then he measured Bucky’s waist and inseam. Quickly he picked out a couple of button-down shirts, showing them to Bucky, then a pair of dressier jeans and a pair of chinos. Taking them to the dressing room, he left them on the chair and stepped back.

“Try these on. If the shirts are a little snug, we can try a different cut, but I think you’ll like this. The chinos are nice for something a little dressier than jeans but still casual. We can pick out a jacket when you come out as well as a pair of shoes.”

Peeling off his clothes, Bucky put one of the shirts on then pulled the blue jeans on, looking at himself in the mirror. He went out to the front and the man looked at him approvingly.

“Okay, try the chinos.”

With a little sigh to indicate he was approaching his limit for patience; Bucky tried the other shirt and chinos on. Although he liked the feel of the pants’ fabric, they felt even tighter than his normal jeans, plus they were short, barely covering his ankle. It must have been evident on his face because the man found another cut and handed them to him. Reluctantly, he tried them, admitting that he liked the look. When he came out the man was pleased. He had a couple of cloth jackets for Bucky to try, helping to put them on, then stood behind him as the super soldier looked in the mirror, choosing the dark navy one. Finally, he brought several pairs of shoes out, but Bucky didn’t like their look and he didn’t want sneakers. The man brought out a dressier boot which Bucky tried on and nodded.

“I like these,” he said. “Now, tell me truthfully. Do I look good?”

“Yeah, you look really good. You’re a handsome man with a fit body. You should be wearing clothing that emphasizes that. Are you satisfied?”

“Yeah, I am,” smiled Bucky briefly. “I’ll take the jacket, boots, jeans, chinos and both shirts. Might as well have two looks, right?”

“That’s the spirit,” said the man. “Bring everything to the desk once you’ve changed and I’ll ring it up.”

Ten minutes later Bucky was walking home, balancing the flowers and his shopping bags in his hands. it cost more than $300 to update his wardrobe, which was highway robbery. In 1941, $300 would buy him more clothes than his closet could hold. But it wasn’t 1941 anymore, and he really did want to look nice for his date with Brooke.

When he arrived home, he took his new clothes out and hung them up. It would have been nice to wash them first, but the circumstances wouldn’t allow it in the time before he picked Brooke up. Then he took his other clothes off and had a shower, washing and conditioning his hair. When he looked in the mirror after, he wished he had time for a haircut.

“You’re fine. Put some of that product in.”

“Shut up.”

He shaved, for all that was worth as he would have a five o’clock shadow before the end of the night. Then he got dressed, deciding to go with the chinos. As he stood in front of the mirror again with his shirt open, he ran his hand through his hair. When he first got it cut, at that place that specialized in cutting children’s hair and keeping them happy while it was done, the stylist (are there no barbers anymore?) said to put the pomade on dry hair so his hair looked more natural. Gone were the days of slick shiny hair. Now, just about anything went in men’s hair styles except for slicked back, which apparently looked sleazy. Who was he to argue? Rubbing the pomade through his hair just like she told him, he styled it until he was satisfied and washed his hands, then did up his shirt and tucked it into the chinos.

He bought a spray to protect the boots from water damage and sprayed them as instructed on the can, coughing at the chemical smell, then leaving them to dry. The clock on the microwave showed 5:30. He sighed at having to wait another hour and put the TV on, watching the early news, turning it off after 5 minutes because it was all the same thing, trouble in the Middle East, global warming, and crime rates up in the New York area.

“Stop thinking negative thoughts.”

“It’s in my nature to think that after all the shit I’ve been through.”

“But you’re going on a date with a real nice woman. Put some music on.”

He breathed out heavily, then went over to his iPhone and opened it. He found his Benny Goodman playlist and started it, linking it to the Bluetooth speaker he picked up in a clearance bin, turning it up high enough to drown out the stupid voices in his head. Sitting in his armchair, he closed his eyes and let the music distract him, bringing him back to a simpler time. It must have worked because he noticed the clock on the microwave suddenly displayed 6:25. Turning it off, he put his phone in his pants pocket, slipped on his boots, slid a knife down beside his ankle, donned his jacket and picked up the bouquet of flowers. With his door locked, he took the two steps to Brooke’s apartment and knocked. There was no sound. He knocked again. That was when he heard the sound of a restrained whimper, followed by the whispered murmur of a man’s voice, audible only to his enhanced hearing.

“Stay quiet.”

Returning to his apartment he placed the flowers on his counter, then climbed out the window to his fire escape, taking it up to the rooftop. Quickly, he headed to the other side of the building and down the fire escape there, approaching Brooke’s window silently. Instead of coming down the stairs, he climbed on the outside of the landing and let himself drop, using his metal hand to grasp the railing, while his feet quietly slotted onto the open grate of the platform. Climbing over, he peeked in the window but didn’t see anything. Checking the window lock that he just installed the week before, he found it still locked, so the man obviously didn’t enter this way. He must have come in through the door. Pulling his knife out he carefully jimmied the lock without breaking it. Thank goodness for some of his assassin skills. Quietly, he lifted the window up and climbed into the kitchen, slipping off the boots so he didn’t make a sound. Calming himself, he listened for sounds then heard it; Brooke’s worried voice begging the man not to hurt her.

“I’m not going to hurt you, Brooke. Did I ever hurt you before? No, that’s not the type of man I am. I’m going to take you home. The city is too dangerous for you. If I can break in, anyone can.”

“No, I won’t go with you. We’re done, Ray. The papers were signed.”

“Don’t care. We promised til death us do part and I’m holding you to it, regardless of what some piece of paper says. Now pack.”

While the conversation was happening Bucky silently stepped closer to Brooke’s bedroom, until he was just outside the door. He pulled his cell phone out and dialled Brooke’s number; later he could explain why he had it, since she didn’t give it to him. It rang in the bedroom and the man picked it up, seeing the (unknown) as the number.

“Who is it?” Ray asked, angry.

“I don’t know,” she replied. “Let me answer it.”

“No funny stuff,” he warned.

“Hello?” Her voice sounded in Bucky’s ear. “Hello? Who is this?”

“Bucky. Hit the floor.”

She looked at the phone and dropped while he leaped in and tackled the man, knocking him against the wall. Straddling him, Bucky grabbed the handgun the man was holding and turned it against him, aiming it at his forehead. Slowly, Brooke stood up, approaching Bucky and the man.

“My ex, Ray,” she said. “He found out where I lived, picked the lock on the door and was waiting for me when I got home from work.”

“Are you okay?” asked Bucky, without taking his eyes off Ray. “Did he hurt you?”

“Who are you? Brooke, who is this guy?”

She smiled. “My neighbour. He’s an Avenger. Perhaps you’ve heard of him, Bucky Barnes and no, he didn’t hurt me.”

“The Winter Soldier?” Bucky pressed the gun into the man’s forehead, shaking his head. “Are you going to kill me?”

“If Brooke wants me to,” he answered. “What do you say? I can take him out permanently and make it look like a suicide.”

“As tempting as your offer is, no,” she answered, then she dialled 911 on her phone. “I would like to report the breaching of a protection order. My ex-husband broke into my apartment and attempted to abduct me at gunpoint. My neighbour came to my rescue, but I need a couple of officers to take my ex into custody. I wish to press full charges.” She gave them her address, then sat on the bed. “They’re on their way. How did you get my number?”

“I checked you out,” answered Bucky. “Had a hunch you were leaving a bad situation. I can delete it if you want.”

She smiled. “No, keep it, but I get yours in return. Did you have reservations?”

“Yeah, but if you take my phone, you can change them to a later time, if you still want to go out.” She reached into his pocket, held it to his face to unlock it, and found the email confirming the reservation. Calling them, she changed it to an hour later. “You knew who I was.”

“Your left hand was visible when we shook hands. I kind of checked you out, too. Isaac said you were a kind man.”

Ray squirmed. “Wait, you were going out on a date? With him?”

They both looked at him as if he was rudely interrupting and he shut up, still looking at the gun in Bucky’s hand as if it would go off at any moment.

“You look nice,” said Brooke. “You dress up well.”

“I kind of went overboard and bought some new clothes,” replied Bucky, glancing at her. “You didn’t get a chance to get ready.”

“No, jackass here was all over me.”

“I’m not a jackass. Brooke, I love you.”

“No, you don’t, Ray. You wanted a mommy to look after you and cater to your every whim. I wanted a man who pulled his own weight and didn’t make me feel like a prisoner in my own home.” There was a knock on the door. “That should be the police. You can let him up now.”

She left and Bucky stood up, emptied the gun and put it on the bed, before offering Ray a hand.

“Leave her alone, Ray. Let her have her own life.”

“With you?”

“If that’s what she wants. I’m just her neighbour and maybe her friend. Whether it goes further than that will be up to her. But if I see you anywhere near her again, I’ll make it my business.”

He pushed Ray ahead of him, then alerted the officers that the gun was unloaded and on the bed. While one cuffed Ray the other went and retrieved the gun, placing it in an evidence bag. Brooke swore out the complaint, then thanked the officers as they left with her ex-husband. She looked at her watch.

“I’ll be ready in 15 minutes, if you want to wait for me,” she said.

“Yeah, just let me grab something from home,” said Bucky, pulling his boots back on. “I’ll be back right away.”

She left the door unlocked for him while he returned for the bouquet of flowers which still looked fresh. Letting himself in, Bucky looked for a vase in the kitchen, filling it with lukewarm water and pouring the plant food in, using a long spoon to stir it until it dissolved. Then he cut the ends of the plants off with his knife and arranged the flowers, bringing the vase into Brooke’s living room and placing them on the coffee table. He went back to the kitchen to lock the window he jimmied, checking it was still securely fastened. Brooke walked into the living room, putting a sweater on as she walked, and stopped at the sight of the flowers, while Bucky entered from the kitchen.

“You got me flowers,” she stated, seeming surprised.

He shrugged as he looked at the arrangement. “I always brought my dates flowers before the war. It’s old fashioned, I know.”

“I like it. Thank you.”

She beamed at him.

“Damn, she’s cute when she smiles.”

“You’re welcome. Shall we?”

She allowed him to open the door and walked out into the hallway first, as he followed her. Taking her keys out she locked it, then looked at the lock, remembering her ex-husband broke in.

“I can put a new lock in,” he said, taking a closer look at what she had. “These are relatively easy to pick. I can get you one that’s better.”

“Could you pick it?”

Shyly, Bucky smiled. “Probably. But I won’t, unless you want me to.”

“I’ll give you a key, since you’re a good neighbour.”

“I promise to use it only when necessary.”

They walked down the stairs, then he opened the door, letting her out ahead of him. Placing himself between Brooke and the street, Bucky offered her his arm and she took it. They didn’t talk on the short walk to the restaurant, but it didn’t feel uncomfortable for either of them. Once there the hostess seated them right away and asked if they wanted drinks. Bucky chose a beer, while Brooke chose a white wine. After studying the menu, they made their food choices, then waited for their drinks to be served.

“So, do you date much?” she asked.

“No. I think you’re maybe the third date I’ve had since I moved in to that flat.”

“I find that hard to believe,” she smiled. “I mean, you’re so charming at first acquaintance.”

She said it with a straight face then started to laugh. Bucky smiled with her, as their drinks arrived.

“Touché. I was kind of grumpy that day. I am really sorry that I made you cry. That was inexcusable.”

“You made up for it quickly,” answered Brooke. “Especially today. Although, I may have to move now that Ray knows where I live.” She sighed. “I signed a six-month lease as well.”

“I don’t think he’ll bother you again.” Bucky drank his beer. “I kind of told him if he showed his face around you, I would know and make it my business. That wasn’t too presumptuous, was it?”

She sipped her wine and shook her head. “No. I hope that’s just you being neighbourly.”

“It is. Once I update that lock on your door, I can also talk to a friend about a security system,” he said.

“Another Avenger?”

“Yeah, but he knows that stuff and would do it as a favour. You would just have to promise not to reveal his identity.”

“I’m good at secrets.” She smiled, sipping her wine, then looked towards the kitchen as the server brought their food. “This looks good.” She noticed the size of his pizza. “You going to eat all that?”

Bucky nodded. “High metabolism. Means I burn through food quicker.”

“Aah, that explains why you’re grumpy sometimes.” He paused, holding the first piece in midair. “You get hangry.” He shook his head, confused. “Hungry and angry, hangry. It started out as a pop culture term used by a certain chocolate bar for their commercials but apparently scientists have confirmed that a combination of low blood sugar and the hormones released when your stomach is empty can make you feel irritable.”

“Is she serious?”

“Seriously?”

Brooke nodded, then smiled. “We’ve all been there. I might have been a bit hangry myself, at the time. I don’t usually cry in front of strangers, which you were then.”

“And now?”

She looked at him seriously. “You’re a good neighbour who’s quickly approaching the friendship line.”

It was strange how good that made Bucky feel. His friendships were few and far between, usually forged over many weeks of acquaintanceship and shared experiences. All of his stronger friendships were with men, like Sam, and Isaac. Yori had been a friend, but still hadn’t spoken to Bucky since he confessed to killing the man’s son when he was the Winter Soldier. Leah … well, she was an acquaintance who pulled back as well, after he told Yori.

“Hey, are you still with me, Bucky?” asked Brooke. “You kind of went somewhere else for a moment.”

“Yeah, sorry,” he smiled, then picked up another piece of pizza. “I don’t have many friends. It wasn’t exactly a skill that my captors wanted me to retain. I’ll try not to disappoint you.”

“You won’t.”

They talked of many things during their meal, and on the walk home, as Bucky carried Brooke’s take-out container of her leftovers. When they finally got up to her door and she unlocked it, Bucky handed the container to her.

“Should I kiss her?”

“No, you’re not even fully at the friend stage yet.”

“But I have to do something, and a handshake isn’t enough.”

“You’re somewhere else again,” said Brooke, looking up at him.

“Sorry,” he apologized. “Just arguing with myself over whether a kiss goodnight is too much but a handshake isn’t enough.”

“I see.” She looked up at him. “Well, a kiss would make it weird and quite frankly, so would a handshake. How about a hug, a quick one?”

Without waiting for an answer, Brooke quickly wrapped her arms around Bucky’s shoulders and hugged him. He barely had time to put his arms around her back before she was pulling away, but she was right. It was better than a handshake and a kiss would have made it weird. With a nod of his head, he went to his door and unlocked it. They both waved, a little self-consciously, then stepped into their apartments and locked the doors. Strangely enough, they both leaned against the wall just inside their doors and wondered if perhaps someday a kiss would feel just right.

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One Shots Masterlist

[bumbumblebeetuna]

guh.

Imagining pre-serum Bucky (in the 1940s) being so desperately in love with the scrawny blond boy who had a reputation for getting into unnecessary fights.

Bucky would come home from work, maybe it was a particularly long shift at the docks or he had to do twice as much work because a crew member called in sick. Whatever it was, Bucky was absolutely exhausted. The kind of fatigue that bore into his bones and settled into his very core...

...dragging… 

..him…

..down.

But then. 

Bucky sees Steve asleep on the couch with his sketchbook fallen to the ground. The familiar raspiness of his breathing whispering softly through the air.

Bucky peers over to catch a glimpse of whatever Steve had drawn.

Maybe it was another study of the Brooklyn skyline or a particularly weird-looking pigeon he had seen earlier today.

But as Bucky pieced together the messy lines inch by inch, leaning over Steve’s sleeping form as far as he could without waking him,

He sees sketches..

..of himself.

The mischievous glint of his own eyes as he smirked at an imaginary audience through the page. 

The sharp edges of his own jawline that he didn’t know he had. 

The warmth of his own smile, the one that he specifically reserved for Steve (and Steve only). The one that showed just a shimmer of his true emotions when the lights were dim and the world was quiet enough for Bucky to forget that it existed.

Bucky’s heart races but he immediately shakes his head to stop himself from thinking any further.

Because there was no way Steve could love him…

Steve couldn’t love him.

They would get locked up or worse, killed if they tried to love each other. 

So Bucky huffs out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and walks into the kitchen.

Setting a reminder for himself to keep all of his yearning to late-night whispers when he was sure Steve was asleep and incoherent mumbles under his breath when he sees Steve in the rightest way, which he always somehow did no matter how wrong it was supposed to be.

Because god dammit.  Bucky would proudly go to hell if his only sin was loving the one who was the reason he ever loved at all.

[logansgaar]

one of my favorite headcanons is that Steve is Awkward Uncle Shaped and Bucky is Dad Shaped.

Steve's not that great with kids, like at all. He cares about them and thinks they're delightful but he has no idea how to actually interact with them. Things like talking to them, going along with their imaginary games, knowing when to play around and when things are getting out of hand, knowing when to and how to discipline them depending on the situations, panics and over thinks when he has to hold babies (why do they always cry!? is he evil!? what did he do, help??) or knowing what to do when they cry, he finds he can't quite get the maturity right so he ends up talking down to older kids or talking too advanced for really little kids, and also isn't great at telling ages in general (he swears he really did think Wanda&Pietro were a lot younger than they were, and then Peter he thought was older, he knew he was a kid but like 19y. kid not 14y. kid ya know? He got muddled okay, give him a break the kid had a mask on). He's so, so SO sweet with them and wants to be good with them, it's why he agreed to do those PSA's, but he's mostly kind of hopeless with them and best with them at an arms length.

On the flip side, Bucky was basically a third parent to his sisters, he half raised them and is still to this day a natural with children. Even in his Winter Soldier state he was known to botch shots because children got in the way (he was even really good with the Widows in his WS state, and if asked he'd say having to train the Widows is the hands down the most painful thing he's had to do...) He's the kind of good with kids where he's happy to entertain them but he can also do all the responsible stuff and is the guy who calls it when other adults get too silly and dangerous/irresponsible with play time. Can also recognize ages pretty well, including by the voice and has really strict opinions about when it's appropriate to talk to children aka never without their guardian present unless they're in clear distress or danger (such as in airports, he'll fight the kid but he's not talking to him, okay, leave him with his strange logic, or in the middle of the street singing a creepy ass lullaby whether you need to find info out for a mission or not glaring daggers at Zemo). He's fucking shit at talking to adults these days though and has pretty much accepted that his social butterfly days are dead and gone in the 40s.

[iwasmadetobeasoldier]

I'll say it. I won't lie.

I'm freaking terrified of Peggy. she's scary.

there I said it. It's out.

@the1-and-only-peggycarter

[shprka]

Need a fic of Gale cleaning Bucky's wounds tenderly when Bucky first gets to the stalag

[kayvsworld]

thoughts on the winter soldier seemingly being back? i just want my happy bonki, why can't they let him be retired at a lakehouse with a cat and some lambs 😭

THRILLED TO SEE HIM, BEWILDERED that i am seeing him. in the context that i am seeing him in. where is sam what is going on

last time we saw bonky he was basking in the sunset being a cool cake-bringing uncle why does his hair look like that why is he doing winter soldier things. why has he gone from lovingly polishing his hand to shoving his entire arm into a dishwasher. that man should be chopping up vegetables in a kitchen in louisiana he should be doing boat repair why won't they let him rest

[sun-kissy]

bucky barnes obsession is going hard... 😭😭😭

[bromcommie]

THEY SENT ME BECAUSE I DON'T EXIST a bucky barnes playlist, ft. coming home the long way around

Listen on YouTube (click on images for full resolution) Sam | Steve | Nat