#barn conversion interior

[newtonlara]

Galley Dorset Mid-sized modern galley home bar with wood countertops for the home bar

[keisukeabe]

Dorset Home Bar Galley An illustration of a mid-sized, modern galley home bar with wood countertops

[mary1in]

Home Bar in Dorset An illustration of a mid-sized, modern galley home bar with wood countertops and a drop-in sink

[izuminokamiis]

Dorset Home Bar Galley An illustration of a mid-sized, modern galley home bar with wood countertops

[killstiles]

Galley Home Bar in Dorset

[arc-hus]

Cascina Otto House, Cossano Belbo, Italy - Studio Wok

[cozycottagelife]

The most beautiful barn conversion

Via 📸: myhouseupstate

[indigokashmir]

Minimalism in Upstate New York.

This Garden Barn Functions as a Guest House, and the Interior Is Incredibly Beautiful When an executive from a Swedish cosmetics company purchased a farm in Upstate New York, she adopted a subtle Scandinavian style to attain pastoral tranquility in the United States.

All photos via Country Living Magazine. Photography by Annie Schlechter.

[reclaimfoodandfarming]

Large country brown two-story brick gable roof idea

[cassiefairy]

Home tour - A Victorian barn conversion beautifully decorated for Christmas

Home tour – A Victorian barn conversion beautifully decorated for Christmas

It has long been my dream to live in a converted barn, so when I discovered Calista’s account @TheBarnAtManorFarm on Instagram a couple of years ago, I was hooked. I loved the clean lines of the interior, coupled with all the character of a Victorian barn – so, when I saw it decorated for Christmas, I was even more infatuated! I interviewed Calista for Reclaim magazine last December, so I got…

[blorbofrommyshows]

DIARY POST but um! I always thought I was the opposite of those ppl who are like ‘I’m interested in too many things!! Can’t choose’ bc I was always like ‘lol I’m not interested in anything apart from fanfic’

UM turns out it was probably lifelong depression oops. now lots of things are cool!!

[mauswyx]

soft-spoken s/o

TLDR: Thomas Hewitt, Brahms Heelshire, Jennifer Check, and Bo Sinclair's reactions to having a fairly quiet s/o WORD COUNT: 1k CW: none, fluff AO3

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ .

Thomas Hewitt

ironically would not be used to the silence at first; he’s used to chatters and screaming! He’s never met someone who speaks so quietly 

will lean towards you when you speak, listening intensely 

finds your silence comforting after the initial shock and enjoys your quiet presence as he goes about his business

quickly adapts to communicating with you via body language and facial expressions, etc; it is a method he’s familiar with after all

takes great pride that he’s the only one that can read your mind or decipher your mumbling

He couldn’t help but spare you a glance every so often as you sat at the opposite end of the barn as he worked. You were mending a shirt Luda Mae scavenged from some luggage…or at least trying to. Your bottom lip was swollen from being gnawed on and your brow was furrowed–the needlework must be tedious, he concluded. He turned his attention back to his work, a few minutes passed before he decided to glance up again only to find that you were muttering to yourself, trying to rethread the string through the eye.

Despite finding your frustration amusing, he couldn’t take your suffering anymore. He strode over to you, gently enveloping your hand in his before plucking the needle away. He made quick work of the thread, giving you a knowing look as he set back to work, but not before hearing a quiet “Thank you Tommy.” 

Brahms Heelshire

does not enjoy that he can’t coax loud reactions from you; he works so hard to mess with you and you don’t say anything?! How rude!

will switch gears and will purposefully pretend not to know what you’re gesturing to or that he can’t hear you to annoy you; he can play by your game but he won’t play fair

he’s been (watching) studying you through the walls so it’s quite easy for him to pick up on your body language to know what you’re feeling or wanting of him 

actually likes your voice and will do everything in his power to get you to use it; even if it means getting a scolding 

bedtime is his favorite part of the day because he gets to listen to you read; will pick out exceptionally long books to listen to you just a while longer 

Echoes etched the room as you tapped your foot against the dusty rug. He had been in a mood all afternoon: being especially disobedient and ignoring your calls from within the walls. He was being so difficult that you had no choice but to search for him, though it proved to be in vain as you couldn’t find him anywhere. A worried knot began to form in your stomach. There was only one thing you could do. With a deep inhale you rolled your head on your shoulders before letting out a shout.

“Brahms!” Your voice was hoarse–not used to being at such a volume, rolling your eyes in frustration “Please come out!” The scraping of wood met your ears shortly before his long arms wrapped around your waist from behind. You bit the interior of your cheek as you could hear the smugness in his voice, having won his game.

“There’s no need to shout.”

Jennifer Check

“they said no pickles.” embodiment 

at first, mistakes your quietness for being flustered by her and she amps up her prowess only to realize you’re like this…all the time…with everyone 

will speak for you whether it’s ordering your food or answering a question on your behalf; is actually exceptionally good at knowing what you want without much effort 

actually doesn’t mind the silence when you don’t feel like talking—grateful that you two can just share a moment together or that she can have someone to rant to

will not make a big deal if you feel talkative, she’ll casually continue the conversation in hopes it’ll make you feel more comfortable

“-and who does that? It’s bullshit!” she scoffed, gently scraping the tips of her long nails on the back of your hand as she laid next to you. You silently nodded in agreement, staring up at her face: her nose was scrunched and her eyes were glazed over, lost in thought–before suddenly snapping down to stare into your own. “I mean, you don’t think I’m in the wrong do you?” 

You couldn’t help letting your lip curl up at her pout, she had definitely been the cause of the altercation but you’d never tell her that; instead, you opted to halfheartedly shake your head. As expected, your poor acting didn’t go unnoticed and her eyes widened before playfully swatting her hand at your stomach.

“No way! You’re supposed to be on my side!”

Bo Sinclair

“huh” x5

cannot understand what you’re saying for the life of him and gets annoyed very easily; more so at his own inability to comprehend you when everyone else seems to understand you just fine

interrupts you when you’re speaking, trying to guess what you’re saying instead of just listening 

puts on a big show to do as you asked when he does finally pick up on what you’re saying 

often wrongly infers what you’re saying but at least he’s trying

“Darlin’…'' he groaned, running a hand down his face “-you’re gunna needa work with me…” You huffed out a breath of air, already annoyed at having had to already repeat yourself twice and repeating yourself a third time honestly wasn’t even worth it; you just wanted the step-ladder to reach something in top-stock, but at this point you’d rather just climb the shelves themselves than have to be stuck in this never ending game of charades. You were half-tempted to do just that, but the look on Bo’s face made you relent; he had been so patient the least you could do was not give up on him.

“I need the ladder…” you said again, this time trying to enunciate your words as best as possible and to your surprise his face lit up. Not a great sign. 

“Bladder?” he repeated, not waiting for a response as he sped towards the shop counter, “Don’t worry baby! I’ll get the restroom key!”

[dreamwritesimagines]

The Eye of the Hurricane [9] - Engagement

A.N: Here’s the new chapter my loves! ❤️ Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback, you made my day! ❤️I hope you’ll like this chapter as well and please don’t forget to tell me what you think! ❤️

Summary: A marriage decision leads to an honest conversation about expectations.

Word Count: 2700

Pairing: MobBoss!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Violence, death, guns, crime, blood, explicit language, drinking. This is an AU, friendly reminder that I don’t condone any of the actions depicted on this story and please read with care.

Series Masterlist

For a couple of seconds, he gawked at you in complete silence before he managed to pull himself together.

“You—you’re saying yes?”

“I’m saying yes.”

“Seriously?”

“Please don’t ask me again because I have this feeling that I’ll change my mind if I think about it longer than a second,” you stated and he nodded fervently.

“Right,” he said. “Sure, I…wow. Okay, we’re—we’re getting married then.”

“Don’t say that either, I am not ready to hear it out loud,” you said with a sigh but before he could answer, a soft voice reached you both.

“Bucky?”

He closed his eyes shut for a moment as he scrunched up his face and you turned your head to look at the top of the stairs where a pretty girl in an oversized shirt –his shirt, if you had to guess— was leaning to the steel handrail.

“Hi,” she said. “Um, who are you?”

“His fiancée,” you stated, trying your hardest to ignore the pang of jealousy in your stomach and her eyes widened.

“Oh I didn’t��I didn’t know—”

“Neither did I when I woke up today,” you said with a click of your tongue. “Can you leave us please?”

“Sure!” she said as she rushed back to what you could only assume was the bedroom and Bucky shot you an apologetic look.

“Charm I’m sorry, if I knew…”

You walked past him, looking around the huge living room. Even you had to admit it looked incredibly beautiful and sleek, and the clear view of the city that you could see from the floor-to-ceiling windows was absolutely breathtaking. It was exactly what you would come up with if someone asked you what Bucky's apartment would look like; luxurious yet dark.

It didn’t mean you would tell him that though.

“I’m not moving in here by the way, this place is a dump,” you forced yourself to say, “If I wanted industrial interior, I’d buy myself a factory.”

“Right, sure—”

“That could be a fun project though,” you muttered more to yourself as the girl appeared at the top of the stairs again, and rushed downstairs, grabbing her coat off the rack.

“Sorry again,” she said without looking you in the eye and walked out of the apartment, and you heaved a deep sigh.

“None of this will be happening from now on by the way,” Bucky said in a haste and you rolled your eyes, then turned around to look at him.

“I don’t care about you enough to have that conversation with you,” you said. “I don’t give a fuck who you fuck, but you’re not going to make me look like an idiot in front of other people so when it inevitably happens, you’ll keep it a secret.”

“You don’t have to worry about that at all,” he said, his voice firm and you crossed your arms.

“So then,” you said. “I feel like we should both talk about the conditions before taking it to the families and the lawyers and everything.”

“I’m good with your conditions,” he said and you shot him a glare.

“You don’t even know my conditions.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

You kept your eyes on him, a slight frown pulling your brows together before you took a deep breath and took off your coat to throw it over the couch.

“Either way, I think we should talk about it,” you insisted and leaned on your hip. “So do you have actual booze in here or are you going to pull out a homemade barrel or something?”

He smiled slightly.

“Take a seat sweetheart,” he said. “I’ll bring the wine.”

“And put a shirt on!” you said as you made your way to the table, ignoring the way your heart skipped a beat. “This is a business deal, honestly. There has to be a dress code.”

                                            *

When Bucky came to the table, he did in fact have his shirt on and he was carrying a bottle of wine with two glasses. He filled one and handed it to you, then filled his own and sat down. You took a sip, pleasantly surprised at the taste and lowered your glass, leaning back.

“Alright,” he said. “Tell me your conditions.”

You swirled the wine in your glass, deep in thought.

“Well first of all, we need to have a time table,” you said. “I don’t want to stay married to you for the rest of my life, and I’m pretty sure you share the sentiment.”

A small smile twitched the corners of his lips but he didn’t comment on it.

“But we can’t get a divorce as soon as I take over because that will lead to a lot of questions and I won’t have the time for distractions, the taking over process is chaotic enough,” you said. “I can’t be making any mistakes, especially considering I already have a rival.”

“Calling Ian a rival makes him sound more important than he actually is,” Bucky commented. “But I agree. We already know some of the families can disagree with this idea.”

“Stark?” you asked and he nodded.

“At least,” he said. “We have Steve and Sam’s support, my family and your family of course, but the rest…”

“You think Romanoff would disagree?”

Bucky thought for a moment.

“Probably, but I can talk to Nat I think,” he said. “She’d hear me out.”

“Barton?”  

“Barton is not going to do anything Nat disagrees with,” he said. “If we have Nat, we have Clint.”

“So that leaves us Stark,” you said, pursing your lips. “Who talks to him, you or me?”

He shot you an apologetic look.

“I mean we may try to sell it as love but at the end of the day, everyone will think about the business side of things,” he said. “It could be better if your father talked to him actually. He already dislikes me enough, and we’re changing the power balance in the city by doing this.”

“Alright,” you said. “My dad could do that.”

“Next?”

“I want your word that I will be included in everything,” you said. “None of the bullshit the earlier generation pulled. I will be in every meeting and I will be included in every single decision.”

He nodded. “Yeah, figured as much.”

“I mean it Bucky,” you said, looking him in the eye. “We will be equals completely.”

“We will be,” he assured you. “I swear on my honor.”

“And I’m not changing my surname.”

He threw his head back. “Charm…”

“Out of question.”

“Charm if I’m going to get you into those meetings, you need to have my surname,” he insisted. “You know the rules. We need to give them an actual reason if you can’t be there as an heir.”

You thought for a moment and cleared your throat.

“Hyphenated it is,” you said. “I’ll keep mine and add yours.”

“It’d be better if—”

“I can’t take over my father’s territory if my last name is Barnes,” you pointed out. “I’ll use both, it’s fine.”

Bucky thought for a moment, then licked his lips and shrugged his shoulders.

“Fine,” he grumbled even though his tone signaled it was anything but fine. You sipped your wine, leaning back.

“Goes without saying that we won’t have any children in the meantime so should we even talk about it?”

“I think we should,” Bucky said, a small smile curling his lips. “Just in case.”

“Just in case?” you repeated and he rolled his eyes.

“It’ll be on the prenup just like everything else,” he reminded you. “And our families will see those prenups, so it’d be better if we covered it beforehand.”

You huffed out and waved a dismissive hand.

“Fine,” you said. “The usual, right? The first born is the heir…”

“The second born is the spare, yeah,” Bucky said. “Although, if you’re keeping your surname…”

“Our children would as well,” you finished his sentence for him and let out a dry laugh. “So then, is the firstborn yours or mine?”

“Maybe it’ll be twins,” he joked and you shook your head.

“We’ll say that the firstborn rules both until the second born is ready, and then divide my territory and yours accordingly,” you said and Bucky raised his brows.

“But until then, both territories?” he asked. “That’s a lot of pressure to put on one person.”

“That person doesn’t exist and will not exist,” you reminded him. “It’s just gonna be a hypothetical article in the prenup, that’s it.”

“And if we want a divorce—”

“When we have a divorce,” you corrected him and Bucky hummed.

“Any specific reque—”

“The weekend house,” you cut him off and he let out a small laugh.

“How long have you had your eye on it?”

“Oh, so long,” you said with a grin. “It’s really pretty.”

Bucky held up his hands, gesturing surrender. “It’s yours then."

“I mean I know I can’t just get it without giving something in return so how about you? What do you want in the divorce?”

“Nothing.”

You blinked a couple of times, gawking at him.

“You want nothing?” you asked him. “Bullshit. Say your price.”

“I don’t need anything.”

“You’re going to get me in the business and help me take over and you want nothing?” you insisted. “No fucking way. What is your game here?”

“I don’t have any.”

“Why are you doing this then?” you asked with a frown. “Seriously. What’s in it for you?”

“My reasons are my own.”

“Bucky…”

“But I do have one request now that you mention it,” he said and you nodded your head.

“Yeah tell me. What is it?”

“Throughout the time we stay married,” he said, taking a sip of his wine. “No sleeping with other people.”

“…I’m not going to sleep with you,” you managed to say after a pause and he shrugged his shoulders.

“We’re going into war with an outsider while pushing you to the top,” he said. “Any kind of issue in our marriage, including a whisper of a rumor could work against that. We need to present a united front to all the other families and our people. Can’t fight a war on that many fronts, you know that.”

As much as you hated to admit, as it turned out, Bucky was actually smart when it came to how things worked in business. You nibbled on your lip, trying to put your thoughts in order before sticking your nose in the air.

“That’s a two-way street,” you told him. “If I’m behaving like the perfect wife, you’re going to behave like the perfect husband.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Bucky, I’m serious,” you said, looking him in the eye. “Don’t go behind my back and make me kill your mistresses.”

“Don’t go behind my back and make me kill your boyfriends,” he replied and you took a deep breath, then downed your wine and stretched out your hand.

“Pleasure doing business with you,” you said and he chuckled, then reached out to take your hand into his, sending a pleasant warmth from your hand to your whole body.

“Likewise,” he said, his voice soft. “Let’s make you the queen, princess.”

                                              *

 You and Bucky decided to tell your family about your decision that weekend at their favorite restaurant. It would at least give you some time to get your story straight and you figured it would play into the lie; that you and Bucky had something for each other all along and once you got together you didn’t want to lose any time to get married.

Of course your closest friends were going to know about it, it would be impossible to keep it from Becca, Sarah, Steve and Sam because they’d had the first row to every single fight whenever you were within each other’s sight not to mention heard about how much you two disliked each other for years now.

But as far as anyone else was concerned, it was the happy ending to a decade long crush on both parts.

That night, you decided to stay in a hotel until the weekend. Not only did you not want to talk to Ian or your father, but it would also work in your favor; it was Bucky’s favorite hotel, it was in his territory and he would make sure to stay with you in the honeymoon suit every night until the weekend so you were pretty sure the rumors would reach your families way before you told them.

Your bodyguards were still on your father’s payroll after all.

You sipped your champagne, your feet propped up on the small coffee table across from the couch you were sitting on, the fluffy bathrobe wrapped tight around your body as you changed the channel on the TV but the knock on the door made you turn your head. Heaving a sigh, you pushed yourself off the bed and went to the door, then put a bright smile on your face and swung open the door.

“Finally!” you exclaimed, then gasped at the huge bouquet of roses Bucky was holding. “Oh my God!”

“Hi beautiful,” Bucky said with a smirk and you stole a look at both your father’s and Bucky’s men in the hallway, then turned to him.

“You shouldn’t have!” you giggled as you grabbed his arm to pull him into the suit, and closed the door behind him.

“Flowers are a nice touch,” you commented, the lovesick smile disappearing from your lips even if your heart did a happy flip and Bucky winked at you.

“I’m glad you like them,” he said as you took them from him, then walked to the open kitchen to pour water into the empty wine decanter before putting the flowers into it.

He leaned back to the kitchen island. “Did you talk to Becca yet?”

“Tomorrow,” you said. “I slept the whole day away today, barely did anything. Must be the stress after yesterday.”  

“Is she serious with that girl by the way?” Bucky asked you. “Leila?”

“I’m not going to tell you anything about Becca.”

He tilted his head. “You and I are going to get married—”

“And she’s my best friend so she’s still above you on my loyalty list,” you pointed out. “Marriage is one thing, friendship is another.”

“Should I at least threaten the girl so that she doesn’t break her heart?” Bucky asked and you rolled your eyes.

“No, Leila is a sweetheart,” you said as you walked past him, then threw yourself on the couch to grab the remote. He followed you and rested his hands on the back of the couch you were sitting on, the closeness of his body making your stomach do a pleasant flip for some reason.

“So what are we watching?”

“We are not watching anything,” you said, trying to focus on the screen. “I’m watching The Bachelor.”

He let out a groan. “Seriously?”

“There’s another TV upstairs, go watch whatever you want to watch there,” you said, grabbing your champagne glass again and tilted your head back so that you could look at him, and Bucky shot you a mischievous grin.

“Marriage requires quality time together, Charm.”

“Who told you that lie?” you asked, turning your glances to the TV and he chuckled.

“Steve sent me an article about it today when I told him the news.”

“Not Sam?”

“No, Sam sent me the address of a great psychiatrist,” he said. “For couples therapy and marriage counseling.”   

“That’s much more useful than an article,” you pointed out and he squeezed at your shoulder making your heart skip a beat.

“I’m going to take a shower,” he said as he walked to the hanging stairs and someone knocked on the door, making you frown and look at Bucky over your shoulder.

“Room service,” Bucky answered before you could ask. “I already know your favorite so I ordered for both of us.”

“How do you know my favorite?”  

“I pay attention,” he said as he started climbing the stairs, unbuttoning his shirt. “Don’t open the door yet though, will you? Wouldn’t want my men to think I last five minutes.”

“I’m sure that would be an improvement for you,” you said with a scoff and he tsk tsked.

“If you want to see just how wrong you are, all you gotta do is ask nicely princess.”

“That will never happen!” you called out and slipped a little on the couch when you heard him close the bathroom door, then heaved a sigh.  

“Great,” you muttered to yourself as the water started running. “My honeymoon should be so much fun.”

Chapter 10

[redgoldsparks]

Breathe: Journeys to Healthy Binding is out in the world and there are so many people I'd like to thank. First, of course, my co-author Sarah Peitzmeier who emailed me out of the blue back in 2020 to ask if I would be interested in adapting some of her research into a short zine. This topic, of safe and accessible trans health care, has only grown more urgent since we first started this project. Thank you Kieran Todd, Frances Reed, Meaghan Ray Peters, and everyone who contributed their voices to Sarah's research. I'm eternally grateful to Emily Mitchell, my agent, who found this book such a good home! And I want to thank Andrew Karre, an extraordinarily generous editor, and Anna Booth, the book designer who made both the cover and interiors look so good. Thank you forever to @ashleyrguillory who colored this book twice in two different incarnations! Also thank you to Barnes and Nobles Santa Rosa for hosting my book launch event and helping turn it into a fundraiser for Positive Images! Thank you Drew Crawford for joining me in conversation about binding, health, gender euphoria, and the creative process. I am grateful to my family, who have supported me both as a queer person and an artist. And to my friends, so many of whom are queer, trans, authors, artists, activists; watching you make art and fight for justice and freedom, for harm reduction and healthcare and an end to genocide, gives me so much hope and strength. ~Maia

instagram / patreon / portfolio / etsy / my books

[deliciousangelfestival]

Flour Power - End

Character: Amnesia!Bucky x Baker!Female Character

Summary: A baker helps a stranger, only to discover that this individual not only aids the bakery but also brings trouble along with him

A/N: Because Bucky got amnesia, his name was temporarily changed to Bob.

Chap 1, Chap 2 , End.

Main Masterlist || support: Ko-fi

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

The closed sign had been placed at the door, signaling the end of another busy day at the bakery. With the customers gone, only the four of you remained, gathered around a table in the dimly lit interior.

You poured a steaming cup of tea for the newcomer, who had introduced himself as Steve. His gaze lingered on Bob, who seemed unfazed by the attention.

"He got amnesia? No wonder why he doesn't remember me," Steve remarked, his tone tinged with a mixture of concern and disappointment.

You nodded in understanding, acknowledging the gravity of Bob's situation. "So, his real name is Bucky?" you inquired, seeking clarification.

Steve nodded solemnly. "His nickname. His real name is James Buchanan Barnes," he confirmed, his voice tinged with a hint of nostalgia.

"Ooh," you and Tammy exclaimed simultaneously, sharing a moment of realization. The revelation of Bob's true identity added a layer of depth to his enigmatic persona, and the name James Buchanan Barnes seemed to suit him far better than the simple moniker of "Bob."

Steve looked at Bucky, his expression resembling that of someone who had reunited with a long-lost friend. "You don't remember me?" he asked, his voice tinged with a hint of sadness.

Bucky remained silent for a moment before he shook his head.

Steve let out a heavy sigh, his shoulders sagging with disappointment. "Did they do something to your brain?" he murmured, his concern evident in his tone.

Confused by the exchange, you interjected, seeking clarity. "What do you mean? Who exactly is Bucky?" you inquired, your curiosity piqued by the cryptic conversation.

Steve took a sip of his tea before fixing his gaze on you and Tammy, his eyes bearing a warning look that sent a shiver down your spine.

"You have to keep every word that comes out of my mouth a secret," he cautioned, his voice low and serious.

You and Tammy exchanged uneasy glances before slowly nodding in agreement, understanding the gravity of the situation.

As you watched Steve, you couldn't help but feel a sense of foreboding, realizing that there was more to Bucky's past than met the eye.

Steve explained, "Me and Bucky are black agents. To put it simply, we're always sent on off-the-record missions."

Tammy whispered in awe, "Woah, that's cool."

You glanced at Bucky, a newfound understanding dawning on you. No wonder he was so talented—he possessed a multitude of skills.

Steve sighed heavily. "Bucky has an excellent success record. But suddenly, we couldn't locate his whereabouts for a year."

As Steve spoke, you couldn't help but recall the doctor's words about Bucky's condition—wounds from bullets and knives, along with poison in his blood. The extent of his suffering weighed heavily on your mind.

Instinctively, you reached out and placed your palm on Bucky's hand, offering him a silent gesture of comfort and support. You couldn't imagine the pain he had endured.

Feeling the warmth of your touch, Bucky looked up and offered you a grateful smile, his eyes reflecting a mixture of gratitude and resilience.

Steve observed the interaction with keen interest, his gaze shifting between you and Bucky. It was clear that he recognized the bond that had formed between you, and his expression softened slightly, acknowledging the depth of your connection.

Steve cleared his throat before speaking, his tone serious. "So, me and the others have been searching everywhere for Bucky. Then our facial recognition system gave us an alert that Bucky is still alive."

Tammy chimed in enthusiastically, addressing Bucky directly. "Isn't that great, Bob? Oops, sorry, Bucky. You found your friend."

You couldn't help but feel a pang of anxiety as you processed Steve's words. "Does that mean you want to take Bucky home? I forgot to ask, does he have family?" you asked, your voice tinged with concern.

Steve shook his head solemnly. "No, this man is a loner," he replied, his expression grave.

A sense of relief washed over you at Steve's response, though you couldn't quite pinpoint why.

"If Bucky wants, I want to bring him back to the team," said Steve.

"No," Bucky replied firmly, catching everyone off guard with his quick response.

Sensing the tension in the air, you attempted to diffuse the situation. "Perhaps he still doesn't trust you yet. Give it some time," you suggested, offering a reassuring smile.

Steve fell silent for a moment, contemplating your words. "I understand. I'll come back another time," he conceded, his tone tinged with disappointment.

Steve rose from his seat, straightened his suit, and left a generous tip on the table. He glanced at you and Tammy with gratitude. "Thank you for saving my friend," he said before exiting the shop.

You watched as Steve's figure disappeared from view, noting the dejected expression on his face.

Turning to Bucky, you found that he had already slipped away to the kitchen, his departure as silent as his footsteps. It dawned on you that his training as a black agent had instilled in him the need for stealth and discretion.

Meanwhile, Tammy chimed in with a playful remark. "That Steve guy is handsome," she commented, breaking the solemn atmosphere with her lighthearted observation.

🗡️

At the back door, Bucky stood like a silent sentinel, his gaze fixed on the darkness beyond as he prepared to take out the trash.

As he moved to re-enter the bakery, a sound caught his attention, causing him to pause. Instinctively, he closed the door behind him and turned to face the dark alley. "Come out," he called out calmly, his voice betraying no hint of fear.

From the shadows emerged a figure, slowly materializing into the form of Steve. Without warning, Steve hurled a knife toward Bucky.

With reflexes honed by years of training, Bucky caught the knife effortlessly, his expression unchanged by the sudden attack.

Steve smirked, a glint of recognition in his eyes. "I knew it. From the moment you said 'No,' I knew you were still the same old Bucky."

"Why do you keep pretending not to remember?" Steve questioned, his tone tinged with frustration.

Bucky remained silent, his fingers tracing the contours of the knife as he pondered his response. "I like it here," he finally replied, his voice devoid of emotion.

Steve's expression softened, a pang of sadness flickering across his features. "Why?" he pressed gently.

"No torture, no one waking me up with waterboarding. Nice place, good food, good friends," Bucky explained, his words belying the memories of the trauma he had endured.

Steve's heart ached at the reminder of Bucky's suffering. "When did your memories start to come back?" he inquired, his concern evident in his voice.

Bucky's gaze turned distant as he recalled the moment. "When the burglar hit my head with a baseball bat," he replied quietly, the memories resurfacing with painful clarity.

Steve looked at Bucky with a mixture of concern and understanding. "I can't believe you went through all of that alone. Do you want to tell me what happened?"

Bucky simply shook his head. "No."

Steve couldn't push it further. He knew Bucky was a quiet person. If he said no, there was nothing that could change his mind.

Steve drew closer, resting a comforting hand on Bucky's shoulder. "I'm going to sound heartless right now, but can you tell me about the situation with the syndicate?" he asked gently, his concern evident in his voice.

Bucky's gaze remained distant as he replied, his tone tinged with resignation. "Everything has turned to dust," he murmured, the weight of his words heavy with the memory of the battles he had fought.

Steve's eyes widened in disbelief. He couldn't fathom that Bucky, alone and unaided, had brought down the nefarious syndicate.

"That's... incredible," he breathed, struggling to find words adequate to express his astonishment.

"You could stay here forever. Your sacrifice will be rewarded," he added solemnly, his respect for his friend evident in his voice.

"But are you going to keep lying to them? Especially to the owner?" Steve questioned, his voice tinged with concern. He noticed how Bucky looked at you, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes.

Bucky's expression remained impassive as he replied, his tone resigned. "It's for the best," he affirmed, knowing that the truth would only bring more pain and complications.

Steve nodded in understanding, his gaze lingering on Bucky for a moment before he turned to walk away. "I'll arrange your reward as soon as possible," he promised, his voice fading into the night as he disappeared from view.

Bucky watched as Steve walked away, feeling a sense of gratitude that his friend had been searching for him. Deep down, he was glad that Steve and the team had never given up on finding him.

Despite this, the pain from the torture he had endured made Bucky prefer to leave it all behind. He was grateful for the amnesia he had, as it gave him the chance to forget the pain he had experienced.

With a sigh, Bucky turned and walked back inside the bakery.

Turns out, you were waiting for him. "It's alright if you still don't remember, Bucky. You can stay here as long as you want."

Bucky felt his heart warm when he heard that. You were the person with the biggest heart.

"Yoo... I'm ordering pizza. What topping do you guys want?" Tammy suddenly appeared.

Bucky chuckled. In this place, the only place he could feel family warmth that he never had.

🌅

The next morning, Steve greeted you and Bucky with a bright smile as you both rubbed the sleep from your eyes.

"Good Morning!"

"What are you doing here so early?" Bucky asked, still trying to wake up fully.

"I wanted to give you back your old bike," Steve replied, his smile widening. "And I have something to show you both."

Confused, you and Bucky followed Steve outside, where the quiet street was suddenly disrupted by the wail of a police siren. A police car screeched to a halt in front of Rick's bakery shop.

"What's going on?" you asked, bewildered.

Steve explained, his expression serious. "It turns out the person who hired the burglar to destroy your shop is him," he said, pointing at Rick, who looked confused as he was dragged away by the police.

"That explains a lot," Bucky muttered, his expression darkening.

"He was jealous of your shop and had debts," Steve continued. "That's why he wanted to ruin your place so all the customers would go to his bakery instead."

Realization dawned on you, and you turned to Steve with gratitude in your eyes. "Did you tip off the police?" you asked.

Steve nodded proudly. "Consider it my way of showing gratitude to you. You helped my friend, and I'm here to help you."

You couldn't help but admire Steve's loyalty and friendship. "You have a great friend," you said, looking at Bucky. "Too bad you still don't remember him."

Bucky tensed at your words, shooting a warning glance at Steve, who simply smiled in response.

Despite Bucky's unease, Steve remained unfazed. "It's okay," Steve reassured, patting Bucky on the back. "You'll remember eventually."

Bucky didn't respond, his gaze distant as he watched Rick being escorted into the police car.

After the commotion had settled, Steve turned to you both. "Now, about that bike..."

As Steve handed Bucky the old bike, you couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude towards him. Despite the challenges and uncertainties, it was comforting to know that you had someone like Steve on your side.

With Rick's scheme exposed and dealt with, you felt a weight lift off your shoulders. Perhaps now you could focus on rebuilding the bakery and moving forward.

As Steve bid farewell and left, you and Bucky exchanged a glance, silently acknowledging the bond that had formed between you.

"Looks like things are finally starting to look up," you said with a smile.

Bucky returned the smile, a hint of warmth in his eyes. "Yeah, they are."

As the sun began to rise, its gentle rays illuminated your face, casting a warm glow that seemed to banish the shadows of his past.

At that moment, gazing upon you, bathed in the light of the sunrise, felt like an answer to the nightmares he had endured.

Being here with you was enough to make him forget the torment of his past.

Together, you headed back inside the bakery, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead, knowing that you had each other for support.

-End-

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[imamotherfuckingstar-lord]

imagine seeing bucky after six months

"Shit."

"What now."

Taking a last hit, you flicked the cigarette to the ground and crushed it with a heavy black boot. Yelena looked to where you nodded, turning to see Sam Wilson and worse, Bucky Barnes soldiering right towards the two of you. She groaned outward, rolling her eyes.

"Don't they have their own shit to do."

Avoiding Bucky's glaring stare, you nearly pinched the bridge of your nose out of frustration and nerves. It had been about six months since you last seen Bucky, leaving him rolled up in a thin sheet as you escaped the hotel room. See, the thing was, you liked fucking Bucky Barnes - you were human after all, but things were complicated at best. Plus, Sam sorta severely disliked Yelena and your antics; always interrupting their investigations but was it your fault that you were simply better at espionage?

"Of course the two of you would be here." Sam was annoyed and you could only smile at the man, hands on your hips. Yelena examined her nails and shrugged. "Well, the job needs to get done and you two idiots are about three days late..."

Holding back a smile, you finally braved a look at Bucky and nearly flinched at how focused he was on you. Giving him a slight nod, you listened to Sam and Yelena bickered until a peace offering was given by Bucky. Yelena began to protest but you spoke to her in her native tongue and she practically pouted. Bucky inserted himself into the conversation and Sam demanded everyone speak in a language he too could understand.

You smirked. "Fine, we'll play nice...for now but my sister gets the kill."

Sam said no one was getting killed but he was naïve to what was really going on and you gave Bucky a look that questioned if he understand. Without Sam noticing, he gave a slight nod and you knew he got it.

"This is Red Room business, so we'll handle the asshole." Yelena spoke quietly and it sent a shiver down your spine - her tone left no room for objections and Sam dropped it. He mentioned the hotel they were staying at and you agreed to meet them to trade intel.

"We'll be there in two hours, we have some sisterly business to do."

Once everyone was satisfied with the arrangements, Yelena started toward the car but Bucky asked to speak to you...alone. Sam took the hint, drifted away down the street as you turned to your sometimes booty call. He looked good as always and it sent sinking feelings down your stomach. Hands in his pockets, he asked how you were.

"Shit hotels, but I always enjoy spending time with my sister."

He gave a small smile but it quickly faded. "How are you really?"

The interior wall you built fell when he reached down to your hand; his warmth filled all the little corners of coldest in your heart and you felt weak. He made you feel weak all because he made you feel wanted. Bucky was your downfall and that's why you kept him at a distance but he was the king of distance and downfalls. Yet, he stood there with the warmest touch a person had ever placed on you. It made you desperate to give in and even Yelena had pointed out the personal torture you were putting yourself through.

"You two are alive, why not?"

What a poet, your sister.

"I want some alone time with you, later..."

Feigning slickness, you purred at him. "Miss my body that much?"

Bucky didn't take the bait, inside he pulled you roughly against him. His hands held yours down at your side and he looked, no, he stared deep into your eyes. "I don't want you just like that, don't be stupid."

That should have pissed you off but it didn't. Instead you softened under his touch and you whispered okay. That's all you could say and when he released you, he touched the side of your face before kissing you gently on the lips. "Six months is too long..."

"...I know, I'm sorry."

He smiled then and kissed you on the forehead. The lightness reappeared in his eyes and he smirked. "Not so tough for an former assassin, are you?"

"Takes one to know one," you snapped back, smiling as he held your hand. He gave it a squeeze and promised to see you later. "Go spend time with your sister, I'll see you soon."

"Promise?"

The childlike air in your tone would have made you flinch months ago but it felt good to indulge. It felt good to be wanted and to have what you truly want - and that was the man in front of you.

"Promise," he smiled, giving your hand a kiss before departing to where Sam had disappeared. Watching him until he was no longer in sight, you felt an arm move around your shoulder and Yelena whistled.

"Oh you got it bad."

"Oh, fuck off."