Bucky Barnes X You - Blog Posts

Unsure - b. barnes

a/n; welcome to my first piece of writing! this is from ‘aphrodisia’ which is found on both Wattpad & ao3. hope you enjoy!

pairing; winter soldier! bucky x gender neutral! reader

reblogs/feedback/likes are appreciated & encouraged. DO NOT repost/steal any of my works.

warnings; n/a

word count; 352

prompt based; “Can I kiss you?“

"Can I kiss you?”.

Blinking in confusion for a moment, you tilted your head at the male in front of you as the words processed in your head. Had you heard right? Surely you hadn’t. Maybe it was your mind playing tricks on you. Humming out slightly, you held your hand out in front of you for him to take before stepping forward.

Keep reading

Daddy? - b. barnes

a/n; just a little headcanon on how I feel Bucky would react to his s/o being pregnant- worried and scared mainly.

pairing; TFATWS Bucky x female! reader

reblogs/feedback/likes are appreciated & encouraged. DO NOT repost/steal any of my works.

warnings; n/a

word count; 563

headcanon; Finding out girlfriend/fiancée/wife is pregnant.

links; Marvel Matserlist | Masterlist

© springismss - don’t repost, copy, translate, steal or modify.

Blinking in confusion, it took him a minute to process what was said and that’s when it had hit him. Did he hear what you had said correctly? You were pregnant?

Feels like his heart stopped for a moment. Part of him feels like this is the last thing he wanted to happen right now. The other half practically screaming for joy.

The internal conflict he felt soon showed on his face. Was he ready to be a dad? He certainly didn't feel ready. Not in the slightest.

He'd only just gotten back to being classed as a normal citizen, not only by his therapist but the government as well. He didn’t want to mess that up so soon with emotions that threatened to overflow.

How could someone who was known to be a cold-blooded killer, despite his now successful attempt to fit back into society be deemed fit enough to look after a tiny life?

He certainly didn't think he would be fit enough as his eyes glanced at the objects you held in your outstretched hands.

A scan picture in one hand, showing the tiny life slowly growing in you. In the other a tiny little bodysuit with the words "Sergeant In Training coming soon!"

The look on your face was one of pure joy as you looked at him, your joy dropping as you chewed your lip in anticipation for his actual reaction. You both knew it was bound to happen sooner or later - he couldn’t keep his hand off you half the time.

How it hadn’t happened earlier was beyond you. Yet here you were, proof in your hands as your figure began to swell slightly. "James? Are you okay?".

He'd been zoned out for so long he that didn't realise you had moved forward until he looked down, seeing your eyes look up at him as you continued to hold the items in your hands.

Wrapping his arms around you, he embraced you, holding you close to him as he smiled softly. His grip on you never fading as he rubbed patterns on the small of your back, afraid to let you go now you're carrying something precious to not only him but you. "Yes doll, I'm okay~".

Leans down and peppers kisses all over your face, enjoying the sound of your small laughs as you hug closer to him. “~Besides, I should be asking you if you're okay. After all, it might not be an easy pregnancy for you".

The reality is he's scared. Scared because he doesn't know if he's fit to look after something so small and delicate when they arrive.

Also, he’s scared for you. Carrying a super soldier's child was rumoured to be an extremely difficult time. All thanks to that serum once used. “James, I'm okay. As long as I take care, I'll handle whatever this little one throws at me".

He steps back from you after removing his arms, placing his flesh hand on your slightly swollen stomach. Your soft hum lulling him as your hands cover his.

He loves you. He adores you. He'll protect you and support you no matter how hard it is.

It's the least he can do, after all, you did that for him. You never backed down and you fought with such pride and love, he knows you’d do it again in a heartbeat.

Unsure - b. barnes

a/n; welcome to my first piece of writing! this is from ‘aphrodisia’ which is found on both Wattpad & ao3. hope you enjoy!

pairing; winter soldier! bucky x gender neutral! reader

reblogs/feedback/likes are appreciated & encouraged. DO NOT repost/steal any of my works.

warnings; n/a

word count; 352

prompt based; “Can I kiss you?"

links; Marvel Materlist | Masterlist

© springismss - don’t repost, copy, translate, steal or modify.

"Can I kiss you?".

Blinking in confusion for a moment, you tilted your head at the male in front of you as the words processed in your head. Had you heard right? Surely you hadn't. Maybe it was your mind playing tricks on you. Humming out slightly, you held your hand out in front of you for him to take before stepping forward.

The eyes of the Soldat watched your movements carefully as he tried to assess the situation. Had he gone too far? Maybe he had moved too fast? Ever since he'd managed to escape the clutches of HYDRA with your help he had a hard time trying to gauge how both you and he felt.

He had spent so long being told to feel one way that anything other than what he was used to at a certain point was foreign, and he certainly didn't like it. Yet with a little coaxing, he began to accept that there were other feelings humans were meant to feel.

Super soldiers or not.

Lifting your free hand you turned his hand over, palm facing up as the pads of your fingers began to draw soothing circles on the rough skin. A content hum passed your lips as it turned into a calming tune. One you knew your Soldat would relax too.

"Kiska~".

The gentle smile that appeared on your face made Bucky fall in love with you all over again. Despite all the kills. The violence. The mind-numbing emptiness. He could always count on you no matter what.

"Moya Lyubov, you don't need to ask that~".

Gentle hands cupped a tired face as noses rubbed together. A small giggle of happiness slipping from the shorter of the two as the others arms encased you. One warm and soft while the other contrasted, cold and hard.

Breath fanned across soft lips, the Soldat taking the opportunity to look over your face. From the tiny curve of your lips to the almost invisible freckles that graced your skin, he loved how perfect you looked.

"My sweet Soldat, you can kiss me whenever you like~".

'' flower shop of new feelings ,,

[ 06 : bad feeling ]

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

|| warning : nothing !... maybe

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

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

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

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

“Clint’s birthday.”

“Really? I didn’t see ‘em”

“Got his birthday gift from them.”

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

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

“Then why haven’t you introdu–”

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

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

“Okay, then ask them over text.”

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

“Then ask your aunt.”

“But you’re right here!”

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

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

“What if I tell them?”

“I know you won’t!”

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

Small comrodaries in trauma.

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

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

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

james : only if you want to.

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

That stupid looking heart did wonders on his heart.

james : how about a comedy?

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

james : even i need a laugh sometimes.

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

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

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

–

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

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

florist : goodluck, james. <3

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

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

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

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

|| smiles deviously, deviously smiles !!

taglist : @iyskgd , @highhopes1008

'' flower shop of new feelings ,,

[ 05 : run ]

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

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

|| wc : 2.1k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Your brother?”

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

“Good luck with him, [Name]”

“Thanks, James, I’ll call you later”

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

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

–

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

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

“What you saw last night–”

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

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

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

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

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

“We’re not dating.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

“James?”

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

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

“Black coffee.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We could get dinner, hangout beforehand too?”

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

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

“Which one?”

“The Guy Who Didn’t Like Musicals!”

“That’s a thing?”

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

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

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

“I’ll walk you t’your shop.”

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

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

“Such a gentleman, ey, James?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re welcome! I-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

taglist : @iyskgd , @highhopes1008

'' flower shop of new feelings ,,

[ 04 : unlucky ]

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

|| warning : nothing !

|| wc : 3.6k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“May-”

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

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

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

“Tell me everything!”

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

“I’m really happy for you, May”

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

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

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

“May!”

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

“[Name], what’s up?”

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

“You sound nervous, what’s wrong?”

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

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

“Yes, please”

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

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

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

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

“None of your business.”

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

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

“No promises!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s the problem with it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“More than okay.”

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

“Uh, what’d you wanna watch?”

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

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

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

“Whaddya think about a World War 2 movie?”

“So you can point out the inaccuracies?”

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why?”

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

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

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

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

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

“I had fun today.”

“Same, we should do this more often”

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

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

“Mr. Barnes?”

Of course it was the Spider kid.

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

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

taglist : @iyskgd , @highhopes1008

'' flower shop of feelings ,,

[ 03 : distractions ]

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

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

|| wc : 2.5k

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

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

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

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

“Why would I wanna go to a museum?”

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why couldn’t it be on a Friday?”

“Maybe the bad guys were busy on Friday.”

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

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

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

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

“James?”

Shit.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

“It’s that common?”

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

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

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

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

“I can’t–”

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

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

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

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

“Holy shit.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That I work as security.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Nah, I’m just a good friend.”

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

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

“Oh! Yeah, no you go do that-”

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

“Yeah- Yeah!”

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

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

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

|| WOOO !! :3 FRIENDSHIP

'' flower shop of new feelings ,,

[ 01: the cute florist ]

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

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

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

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

|| wc : 1.7k

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

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

“Sam likes y-”

“Sam doesn’t count.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

“And you’re sure it’s a good idea?”

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

“Just a minute!”

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

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

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

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

“I need help with a birthday gift.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I remember reading The Hobbit.”

“Yeah? How’dya like it?”

“.. Don’t like wizards all that much”

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

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

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

“It’s on the house.”

“What?”

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

“I can’t, lemme just-”

“Really, you’re fine-”

“I insist-”

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

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

“James.”

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

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

And with that he left.

–

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

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

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

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

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

“Like I said, nothing.”

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

“Well, how was getting the flowers?”

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

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

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

Easier than thinking of the cute florist.

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

'' INSOMNIACS,,

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

|| warnings: neighbor!bucky, fluff

|| wc: 0.9k

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

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

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

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

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

"Bucky?"

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

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

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

"Ah. Same."

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

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

"Doesn't work?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Telling myself I don’t need to write about virgin Bucky who grew up in a strict household, never touching himself because he doesn’t want to commit a sin. Suppressing every single urge he’s ever felt his entire life. He gets to college and stays at his best friend’s place over the winter break which is great until his best friend’s single mom is the most gorgeous thing he’s ever laid his eyes on. She’s so sweet. So pretty. He knows he’s screwed when he has to excuse himself from the dinner table, taking a hot shower, struggling to get his erection to go away. He lets out a soft little whine, gripping his cock and balls, giving it a squeeze to calm down but it doesn’t work. He swears he’s going to cry, it was so wrong, he had to stop.

I don’t need to write about how he’s gonna end up in her bed. I don’t need to talk about how Subby and needy he is. Scared. Shy. Such a cute little virgin literally never touched in his life. We don’t have to talk about all the things mommy is going to teach him like how to touch himself, giving him instructions to follow like a good boy. We don’t have to talk about how badly he wants to be good, asking if you’re sure this is okay? Isn’t it bad, mommy? Is this wrong? Mommy, are you sure? No mommy, no one’s ever touched me there.

We don’t need to talk about the possessive, jealous daddy he eventually turns into, ruining her till she’s a mess of tears and his cream.

I don’t need to write about it.

Drawn to Love

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word Count: 1,282

Summary: Bucky catches you swooning over the animated version of him in ‘What If?’ and at first he’s grumpy about it..

Author’s Note: So this idea just came to me after seeing the clips from What If? and how cute animated Bucky is. I mean I may have swooned myself…hehe Thank you all so very much for reading! Much love always ❤❤❤ Divider by the lovely @imerdwarf 

Warnings: lots of fun fluff, teases, grumpy Bucky, Steve cameo and then it ends with dirty talk and implied smut (18+ ONLY PLEASE!!!)

Gif not mine: Credit goes to @unearthlydust thank you so very much :) 

“What’s that smile about?”

You whip your head up at the sound of Bucky’s voice next to your ear.

“NOTHING!” you nearly shout and slam close the iPad.

“Baby doll…you have that lovey-dovey look on your face again.”

He narrows his eyes before plopping down next to you on the couch. You give him a dazzling smile that looks far too guilty and repeat your answer from earlier.

“Nothing Buck.”

He tilts his head suspiciously before distracting you with a soft kiss and grabbing the iPad away. He rushes into the kitchen and opens it, keeping you away with his metal arm.

“BUCKY! OH MY GOD. GIVE IT BACK!” you scream, trying your best to get at him.

“That’s me,” he deadpans. “You’re watching the ‘What If?’ clips?”

Keep reading

need

roommate! bucky barnes x reader

summary || Bucky gets horny while watching a movie.

warnings || handjob, crack fic — MINORS DNI

divider by @firefly-graphics

I don’t even know what this is lmaooo.

You stifled a yawn as you stretched your legs further into Bucky’s lap, it was a tradition now since your feet always got cold. Your eyes were drooping low, but you shook your head to stay awake. The TV was throwing colours over the overwise dark room and you were getting sleepy looking at the bright screen.

“That boring?” Bucky asked, turning away from the stupid horror movie he had chosen. “No. I’m just very tired.” You lied. You were sleepy, while watching a horror movie, and it wasn’t even halfway through. The movie was just downright terrible.

“Don’t lie. I know it’s awful. Kinda was a bad pick.” Bucky said dejectedly. “Uff, glad to know I’m not the only one who thinks this is pathetic.” Bucky was a little touchy when it came to the movies he selected, so you tended not to usually criticise them in front of him.

You were about to switch off the TV when suddenly the main characters started making out, in the middle of a haunted house. You wanted to roll your eyes, but the scenes were oddly arousing. The scenes progressed further until they were literally fucking in the dilapidated room.

You wiggled your feet a little in Bucky’s lap to get more comfortable, but then foot accidentally touched something hard and hot in his pants. You both stilled and left the TV to look straight into each other’s eyes.

A devilish idea crossed in your head and you pressed your foot down a little harder. He hissed through his teeth and yet didn’t stop you, so you decided to continue rubbing your foot over his tented pants. But then you purposely took your leg away to gauge his reaction.

“Don’t tease me doll.” His voice was raspy as he looked at you with lust blown eyes. You crawled further until you were right next to him. In the dim light of the TV playing the now forgotten movie, you could see his blue eyes sparkling.

Bucky was a gorgeous man and you’d be a fool to not want him. Bucky placed his hand on your chin and smashed your lips together in a passionate kiss. You trailed your hand down the hard planes of his body as you kissed him.

“Fuck.” He cursed when you slipped your hand into his pants and curled your hand around his hot length. You pressed tight circles on his slit with your thumb and spread the precum. He closed his eyes and leaned against the sofa once you started moving your hand along his length.

You had accidentally seen Bucky naked once, and you knew he was well endowed. But jerking him off was a whole another experience. Your eyes weren’t leaving Bucky’s face because he looked absolutely magnificent, his eyes closed and his plump lip trapped between his teeth as he relaxed.

“I’ve wanted this for so long… fuck!” He sighed as you twisted your hand around his head. “Why didn’t you tell me before?” You asked as you started moving your hand faster. “I… I thought you didn’t want… fuck, I’m going to cum!”

“No wait! Not on the couch please!” You cried out. You were about to take your hand away, but Bucky held you there. “Please god, don’t stop!” His hand guided your fist to go faster. “Bucky! You’re going to ruin the couch and the carpet.”

“No. Take…” he closed his eyes and you could feel that he was on the edge as his cock twitched in your hand. “Take the mug.. quick!” Following Bucky blindly, you took the first cup you could reach on the table. Bucky groaned loudly as he came and you collected his cum in the cup.

Bucky’s body sagged into the couch when he came down from the orgasmic high. You giggled like idiots about what just had happened before your eyes went back to the mug. “Oh my god Bucky! You just ruined my favourite coffee cup!” You screamed.

“I wouldn’t say ruined it…. umm, I just added some extra cream.” He said laughing at his own joke. “Ewww. Not funny.” You said making a face. Bucky pulled you back in his arms and held you there. Soon, you too started laughing on the absurdity of the whole situation. “Well, it was still better than the movie.”

Honey, There's People That Are Dying

Pairing: Mob!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You make Bucky fish your phone out of the pool.

Wordcount: 2.1k

Warnings: Bucky in vacation mode, smut, outdoor sex, sex by the pool, ass slapping (i forgot what the technical term is), pain kink, dom!Bucky vibes, two feral idiots in love

18+ ONLY, IF YOU ARE A MINOR KINDLY FUCK OFF, RESPECTFULLY!

A/N: Who'd have thought a bunch of 'Bastian photos is going to get me out of my writing funk? I've never written anything so fast since the pandemic lmao. Enjoy~ NOT Beta'd, oops.

|| MASTERLIST ||

“Bucky!” your shriek reverberates all throughout the villa, scaring a couple of tropical birds out of the giant tree that stood right along where the stone path ends onto the open yard. “I was about to close that deal!”

You huff and stomp your fresh Jimmy Choos on the poolside tiles, freaking out that your very hot and very hot headed boyfriend just chucked your phone into the clear waters of the pool. You took five minutes outside to take a very important business call, thinking it would be fine since your luggage, all seven of your suitcases, three of Bucky’s and a couple of duffle bags, was still being hauled upstairs by the staff of his vacation home.

“And you’re missing the view and the fresh air, sweetheart. We’ve been planning this vacation for months; that call should have happened before you got your sweet ass in the plane.” He steps into your space, grabbing you by the waist and pulling you against him. He slides one thick thigh between your legs and smirks when you squirm at the contact. You whine when his grip tightens, his touch spreading goosebumps all over your skin.

Your hands grip his biceps as heat boils in your core. You stand on the tip of your toes, bumping your nose with his, lips almost touching you tell him, “Hmm… That call was worth 280 million.” You push up and take his bottom lip between your teeth, biting and pulling hard until Bucky yelps and pulls back, lip nipped open. “You better fish out my water proof phone or you pay me the same amount in cash before the sun sets on the view that I’m missing!”

You push him away and point to the small black rectangle chilling on the bottom of the pool. Bucky wipes his lip with his thumb, growling when he sees a blood. You were going to pay for that but right now the look on your face, flushed with anger and just gorgeously seething is making his cock hard.

“Now, Bucky!” you point again to the phone ringing under water, he thinks. He was going to send Tony Stark an email about making things too durable, missing the days when phones died when they catch a little drizzle.

“Sheesh, relax! Okay!” he raises both hands in surrender, walking to the edge of the pool as you crossed your arms and followed behind him. “Honey, there’s people that are dying, you know? And you’re freaking out about a phone.” You roll your eyes and gesture for him to proceed.

You expected him to kneel by the edge and fish it out with his hands but once again shriek loudly when he jumps into the pool, still fully clothed with his shoes on, splashing your sun dress and soaking you. By the time he resurfaces, he’s got your Stark phone in his hand and you grab it quickly.

“Thank you, honeybun!” you blow him a kiss and redial to return to the call. You apologize to the investor, smiling the whole time when you finally get them to agree to your terms. You were humming affirmations when you accidentally make eye contact with your boyfriend, giving you his most murderous gaze while he was soaking wet. His white shirt had become transparent from the water, giving you firm reminder of what you had at the tip of your fingers if you just started your vacation officially.

Bucky shakes the water out of his hair and pulls himself up onto the edge of the pool. His pants were sticking to his thighs that causes you to gulp loudly for air, stuttering when you miss something your investor says but replying dumbly when you see the massive tent in Bucky’s pants.

“Yeah… I-I mean, yes! All of that sounds great! Thank you, I’ll get back to you after my vacation. Bye, thanks!” you ramble and hang up, sticking your feet together and standing in attention. Bucky was full on seething, chest rising visibly as he continues to sit still by the pool’s edge. You wanted to apologize, to him and to your poor pussy that was currently dripping like a broken faucet, for delaying your trip activities when he gestures with one thick and lock finger and beckons you to go to him.

“You done?” he grits the question, jaw clenching in unison with your weeping hole. You nod, not trusting your voice at the moment. “Good, pull your skirt up and lie down here.” He pats his wet thighs and huffs impatiently.

You toss your phone to one of the nearby lounge chairs and quickly bunch your skirt up to your waist. “Buck—Honey baby— Hey, you were the one who wanted to go legit with the business! “ he tuts and you close your mouth. You were in trouble and the excitement curls in your gut pleasantly.

He spreads his legs wider to accommodate you as you lie on your stomach over him, your ass exposed to the cool tropical air. He runs the tips of his fingers gently from your calf to the back of your thighs until he reaches the curve of your ass, alternating between pinching your soft cheeks and squeezing a handful. You moan when he uses his other hand to push your head down and locking you there by the back of your neck.

“Now, I know how important your job is to you. And I know how fun it is to make money,” he slaps your left cheek hard making your head shoot up but he prevents you, making you squirm and feel on your stomach how much joy he’s experiencing right now when his bulge greets you, “but you have to remember, “ another slap, harder this time, “which is more important…” two successive slap and you grunt from the pain that makes your core clench.

“You, Buck! It’s you! You’re the most important thing in my life.” You tell him but he only responds with quick slaps on your throbbing ass. God you won’t be able to sit on it for a while.

“Sshh. I’m not asking a question, sweetheart, so there’s really no need to answer.” He switches to the other cheek and your arm shoots out from under you, aching to grab for something while you endured your punishment. “Stay still or we’ll be here longer.”

He swipes your hair away from your face and you get a glimpse at him, swollen lip as he breathes heavy, face flushed and gorgeous under the sun. Fuck, you were going to come just by looking at him. You nod and he winks down at you.

“Oh, honey, I forgot to initiate the count. Guess we have to start again.” He hums and makes you count to fifteen, tears rolling down your face by the time the last one hits your skin. “Oh, baby come here.” He scoops you up into his lap, legs pulled around his waist to straddle him as he coos at you, peppering your face with kisses. You squirm again when his raging hard on comes in contact with your soaked center and he can’t help but chuckle. “You need me, baby?” you nod and pout and scratch at his neck when you kiss him wantonly, moaning into each other’s tongues as he squeezes you with his large hands.

Bucky infuriated you to no end as both of you tried to control each other, fighting fire with fire, all-consuming with nothing left in your path. You made him crazy when you told him no just to piss him off even when you agreed with him or wanted the same things. And yet he wouldn’t change anything that he had with you. You kept each other on your toes, pulling each other’s string and getting on your last nerves.

Bucky pulls back from the kiss and you start sucking on his neck. “You wanna go inside for this or—“

“No—here—now. Please—“ you rush to tell him pulling at his belt as you kneel to get rid of his pants. He chuckles but agrees, gripping the side of your panties and ripping it in half, tossing it on the pool. He helps you pull his pants enough for his cock already leaking and flushed pink when you finally take it out.

He aligns himself quickly, rubbing the tip into your slick folds before the head penetrates your tight entrance. Fuck, you both cuss at the pressure and the heat. Bucky looks up at you in reverence as your face contorts while your pussy tries to accommodate him, mouth dropping open, no sound coming out just puffs of air that blow on his face. You looked beautiful as the sunlight formed a crown behind you as he splits you in half.

You whine when he finally reaches his hilt, nails digging into his skin as you try to regain your bearings. He does an experimental thrust and you cry out in pleasure, a sound he’ll never get tired of. He lets you set the pace first, he had to be as coherent as possible so he can see your face when you come on his cock.

“Go ahead baby, ride this dick. Make yourself come on your cock, sweetheart.” You nod and begin to move back and forth, using his shoulders as leverage. You swear softly, always surprised at his size and the magic that your body conjures to accommodate him—to take every inch of him with joy. You grind down on him as his hand palms your tits, pulling and twisting on your taut nipples until he pulls down your dress and puts them inside his heavenly mouth. He laps at them, teasing the peaks with the tip of his tongue and nipping at them with teeth. His hand then travels south and cups your ass making you whine and pull up. You sit on him heavily and the both of you grunt from the pressure.

“Again. Do that again—“ he scrapes his teeth on your jaw and licks you there when you do as he says and your core clenches harder at the impact. Bucky encourages you with dirty sweet things. Best pussy I’ve ever had, only pussy I need, soak me honey, fuck please, I need you to cream all over me.

When you pace falters, he takes over and thrusts up into you. Pace faster and harsher than your own, every stroke hitting you deliciously. He pulls one of your legs higher, almost at his shoulder level until he rolls you on your back, cupping the back of your head against the cool tile surface. The change of position gives him more access and he takes himself deeper.

The pain on your ass calls out to you and with all your strength you push at Bucky’s shoulder until you switch positions and you’re atop him again. You close your eyes and ride him faster, he assists you with two fingers to your clit and it powers you through and through, head raised to the clear blue skies until you get thrown into your climax. You clench around Bucky and he growls at the way your pussy tries to suck him all in. Your release triggers his and with a couple more strokes he fills you with his warmth, painting you with his seed, slowly thrusting up into you to mark every thing inside.

He places his hand around your throat as you savor your pleasure, writhing in his hold. He gives you a languid kiss as you come down from your high, rubbing soothing patterns on your back as his spend leaks out of you.

“God, I needed that. I-I’m sorry for yelling at you earlier,” you shyly tuck yourself in the crook of his neck, lying on top of him after getting post nut clarity of your behavior.

“Worth missing two hundred million?” you slap him on the chest and he chuckles, cupping your backside and making you hiss. “So… you in this vacation with me now or do you have anymore more calls to make?”

You sit up still straddling him, his cock still lodged inside you while his come escapes in thick, creamy waves. You smile down at him and clench your pussy around his semi hard on.

“If you eat me out until I pass out, I’ll throw my phone over the balcony and into the sea.” You slowly pull yourself off him and wobble back into the house.

“Fuck!” Bucky tucks his hardening self inside his pants again as he goes after you but not before picking up your ringing phone and turning it off, chucking it off into the bushes. “Wait up! Give me that pussy!”

YES THE FUCK IT IS BABY!!!!!!

get ready for me to be insufferable again. i’d say and for me to be back in my bucky phase, but i never left 😄

paranormal love

James ‘Bucky’ Barnes x fem!reader

a/n: Bucky is going to be very OOC for the first half of this. Just trust the author on this one, it will all make sense in time. (Toxic relationships, paranormal happenings - you have been warned)

Summary: Moving into this house was supposed to be the blessing your marriage needed. Instead you only seem to be twisted against each other. Something lurks within these walls, something angry, something lonely. Someone wants you gone, and he’ll do whatever it takes to have his revenge on the woman who left him behind. (Part of my Halloween Palooza)

“Okay,” you say, balancing the camera in your palm, zooming in on James’ back while he unpacks the kitchen boxes. “Wanna smile for the camera?”

He gives you a glance over his shoulder before turning and waving to the camera. He chuckles a little, glancing down at the lens and then back at you. “What are you doing?”

You sigh, placing the camera on the counter and letting it record. “Well, you know how the lady said this place was haunted?”

He rolls his eyes and glares at you. “I told you not to listen to her, that chick was off her meds.” You swat at his arm but he bounces away from you playfully. 

“Shut up,” you mutter, holding back a small laugh. “I just thought that if there were any supernatural happenings,” you nod towards the camera, “we’ll need proof if we’re going to make this a tourist trap.”

James smiles, leaning over to press a brief kiss to your forehead. “Good call, babe.” You smile after him as he heads back out to the truck to bring in more boxes. Your eyes briefly dart to the camera before you shake your head with a disbelieving chuckle. 

Do you believe in the supernatural? Yes. The metaphysical? Depends on who’s trying to sell you their tarot cards. But you do know that when that woman handed you the keys after you bought the place, you’d never seen such stark relief. 

That poor old woman was terrified of living in this house alone. Of course, the old bitch didn’t tell you about all the horrific things that happened here until after you signed the deed. If you had known this place was haunted, even if it’s not, you never would have bought it. 

Sadly, all your money and savings are now tied into this home. James says not to worry, that there’s nothing wrong with the place. But he’s always been a cynic and he’s never really believed in anything so miraculous as ghosts. Besides, he’s the type of guy to argue with you until he’s purple in the face that the sky is red when he’s in a mood. 

There’s no talking him out of this. And you can’t begin your newlywed life arguing with your husband about the place you just made your forever home. Anyways, it’s not like you’ve noticed anything bad yet. 

The camera is mainly a joke to mess with James and make yourself feel better about the whole thing. You’ll turn it off tonight, be done with it, and hopefully get over this irrational fear of yours. 

12 AM

You spit the toothpaste into the sink and rinse your mouth with water. You’ve noticed a strange metallic taste with all the unfiltered sinks. You're worried you might have to call a plumber or someone to check it out. You don’t want to get lead poisoning your first night here. 

You freeze, still bent over the sink, and your jaw snaps shut. Eyes are boring into the back of your head, hateful and angry. It’s not James, you would know if it was. This is something different, the hair on the back of your neck is standing up, goosebumps rolling up and down your arms. There’s a rush of cool air, like something running past you, and your head shoots up in surprise. 

You scream when you see James in the mirror’s reflection. He jumps back in shock, lowering the camera and giving you an exasperated look. A second ago you’d been completely alone and he’d been downstairs, where the fuck did he come from?

“What the hell, James?” You wipe your mouth off with the back of your hand and whirl around on him. He glares at you, eyes narrowed in dissatisfaction. 

“Talk about an overreaction. What the hell is your problem?” He snaps, taking that tone with you that you know means you have to be careful. You don’t feel like getting into another fight with him. Especially not tonight. 

“You scared me,” you trail off into an awkward laugh, hoping to ease up the mood a little. He slams the camera down on the counter. Your shoulders jump and you flinch back from him slightly. “What’re you doing with the camera?” You ask, glancing down at the lens and frowning. You spot the red blinking light and realize he’s still recording, your brows furrow in confusion. 

“It was your idea, wasn’t it?” His tone is short and you huff in disappointment. You hadn’t realized something as small as a little scare would piss him off. You used to be good at reading his moods. Since the wedding, though, he seems to have just gotten more and more unpredictable. 

You take a seat on the edge of the bed, your feet dangling over the floor as you kick your legs. You hate how tall the damn bed frame is, you have a horrible paranoia that something’s going to grab you one day and yank you under. James, of course, had just laughed when you told him this and then bought it. He thought it was funny, that it would help you overcome your fears. 

You still have goosebumps from earlier, the same breeze from before tickles the pads of your feet. You glance down with wide eyes, yanking your legs into your chest and scooting back from the edge. James flips the lights off in the bathroom and walks to the end of the bed. He’s dragged out the tripod and has got it pointed at the bed. 

You tilt your head with a coy smile, “Planning on having some fun tonight?”

He glances between you and the camera, a confused furrow between his brows. You scoff out a laugh as the realization dawns over him. “If you’re up for it, I wouldn’t mind some after-dark fun.” You roll your eyes and tug the covers over your legs. He leaves the camera and crawls on the bed towards you. “But that’s not what it's for.”

“Oh yeah?” You glance over his shoulder and then turn back to him with an odd look. “Don’t tell me you’re buying into the supernatural junk?” You tuck your head into his chest, letting him pull you closer as he flips the lamp off. “You’re supposed to keep me tethered to reality, remember?” You tease, looking up at him. 

He glances down at you and shrugs. “The lady did say the master bedroom is the worst, I’m just curious if we’ll catch anything.” 

You shoot the camera a concerned look and shake your head. “I hope not,” you mutter. You snuggle in closer to him, trying to dismiss the feeling of someone watching you. You’re sure it’s just from the camera being on you. Besides, you always get too deep in your head about this stuff.

3 AM

You shoot up in bed, chest heaving as you stare down at your feet. James shifts behind you, grumbling as he flips over and steals the rest of the blankets. 

Your heart is pounding loudly in your chest as you simply sit there, staring at the end of the bed. You pause, holding your breath like the room might tell you its secrets. 

You’re normally a heavy sleeper, not even a fire would get you up. But something just did, you were ripped violently from your slumber. You almost want to dismiss it as an incredibly vivid nightmare. Yet, you can’t ignore the throbbing, almost freezing pain, that’s shooting up and down your left calf. 

The muscle is spasming sporadically and you can still feel the phantom touch of someone squeezing your leg. Your hip is sore from where you’d been dragged down. You’ve had pretty vivid dreams before. You’ve woken up with your feet sore like you’d been running, or your muscles cramped from twitching around so much. But this is a lot. 

You take in a deep breath, slowly pulling your legs into your chest. You slump over your bent knees, hoping to catch your breath and settle your racing mind. It’s impossible to ignore how cold your leg feels, you feel like you’re losing blood circulation. You can’t just go back to sleep with it like this, you’re gonna have to go downstairs and get James’ heat pack. 

You’re seriously starting to lose feeling in it now. You’re wondering if something didn’t drag you and maybe you’ve got a blood clot screwing your circulation up somehow. Hundreds of different possibilities race through your mind, each more worrying than the last. You can't sit up all night scaring yourself, you’re just gonna have to suck it up. 

You briefly consider waking James up so you don’t have to go downstairs alone. You hate how those stairs look in the dark, you feel like something is standing at the end, waiting to reach through the banister and drag you down. A ghost, however, sounds more inviting than making James grumpy before he has to go in for work tomorrow morning. 

With a heavy sigh, you force yourself off the bed and blindly grope through the dark for the wall. Your left leg is practically dead weight as you drag it behind you. Your hands skate along the dusty walls and you grimace, making a mental note to dust tomorrow. 

You’re trying to take it slow, to squint out as many shapes in the dark as you can. It’s nearly impossible to tell when you’re going to hit the stairs. You can only pray that you don’t go toppling headfirst down them. 

Slowly, you inch your toes forward and curl them around the edge of the step. From there it’s a long, arduous process of just trying to get down the stairs. It feels as though with each step you take, the house only grows darker. 

You wished you had taken the risk and turned the lights on. The feeling of eyes following you only gets worse as you finally reach the kitchen. The further you get from the bedroom, the worse your leg begins to throb. You can only be happy that you still feel it at all. 

Your hand skates along the wall until you feel the cool plastic of the light switch. As harsh as it is against the linoleum, it’s a stark relief from being all alone in the dark. You dig around in the moving boxes until you find James' heating pad. You toss it in the microwave and pull yourself on the counter, drumming your fingers while you wait for it to warm up. 

He hates you. He hates that you live in his house. He hates that she’s gone. Bette, he’ll miss her, the way the old woman’s face would screw up in terror always brought a sick satisfaction to him. 

You press the warm pad to your leg and hiss through your teeth as feeling begins returning to your calf. He has to admit, he hadn’t meant to grab you quite so hard. He just wanted one good scare, to either get you out of here or show you who's in charge. Your leg has turned an odd color in the shape of his handprint and it makes his lips curl up. 

There’s a loud ringing from upstairs. It grates on his already frayed nerves and makes anger roll off of him in violent, tangible waves. Your nose twitches, your face screwing up as you look around. There’s a suspicious glint in your eye, one your little husband doesn’t share with you. 

He has to admit, you’re smart enough to realize the truth of your situation, at least. Your husband doesn’t share the same characteristic. He seems alarmingly self-assured, not that he minds, those are his favorite types to break. 

He can hear upstairs, better than you would ever hope to. He listens as your husband picks up the phone, quietly yelling at someone on the other end. A woman, if the timbre is anything to go by. They both sound incredibly angry. He’s not interested in listening to something as trivial as this. 

He turns away from you and moves towards the stairs. He pauses at the base of them, glancing over his shoulder and really taking you in. You look so small, curled up on the counter with the look of a frightened child. 

You scream as the lightbulb above you explodes, plunging you into complete darkness. He smiles to himself, drifting up the stairs and lingering at the end of your bed. Your husband’s head shoots up in alarm and he pulls the phone away from his ear. 

The name Martha lingers on the small screen before he quickly flips it off and rushes out of bed. He blows right through the man at the end of his bed, flipping on the lights and racing down the stairs. He calls out your name, voice frantic and bordering on paranoia. 

He hadn’t thought you two would get scared quite so quickly. He’d been hoping to enjoy this a bit more. Perhaps he should slow down, and savor the long fall into madness before he claims you both. He hovers at the top of the stairs, watching as your husband comforts you. 

He’s got his arms wrapped around you, trying to keep you quiet and get you to calm down. From a distance, he could almost be the perfect husband. But that look is all too familiar, he’s seen it a hundred times before. It’s only now that he recognizes it for what it is. There is no love in your husband’s gaze, only the fear that you’ll find out his little secret. 

He goes back into the bedroom, swipes the phone off the nightstand, and retreats into the shadows. 

“Don’t,” you slap James’ hands away from you, glaring at him. He purses his lips, huffing out a sharp breath and taking a step back. Anger brews under your skin, warms you up, and makes your jaw ache from how hard you’re clenching down. 

“How can you say I made it up?” You shout, no longer caring how loud you are. Your voice cracks at the end as you take on a shrill pitch. You yank up the leg of your yoga pants, shoving your leg towards him. 

Not only has the skin dipped in the perfect shape of a hand, but it’s also turned into an unnatural shade of green and purple. It’s like no bruise or injury you’ve ever had before. James looks down at the mark like it’s a bug to be squashed or a pile of dog shit he just stepped in. 

He fixes you with a sneer and shoves it away from him. You let out a harsh breath and stumble slightly into the counter. “Would you quit fucking showing me that? It’s freaking me out.”

You throw your hands up in the air, giving him an eat-shit look. “How do you think I feel? It happened to me.”

He shakes his head and turns towards the coffee pot, pouring himself another mug. You can’t believe how dismissive he’s being about this whole thing. You have indisputable proof burned into your flesh, and he’s completely ignoring your worries. 

“We need to get you to the doctor, okay?” He shakes his head, giving you the look of a disapproving parent, rather than the supportive husband he’s supposed to be. He hadn’t even been worried for you last night, just mad that you’d woken him up for nothing. 

“It’s probably a blood clot, not a damn poltergeist.”

“James-” His phone ringing cuts you off, and your eyes narrow in disbelief as he reaches for it. It’s closer to you on the counter so you snatch it up before he can grab it. 

“What are you doing?” He demands, taking on a concerningly low tone. 

“We’re going to talk about this, you’re not getting out of this one, James!” 

He whispers your name in a voice you haven’t heard before. His face is dark, brows set in determination as he slowly extends his hand. “Give me my phone.”

You glance at the Nokia and then back at him. The fear that’s been ever-present since last night turns into something else. Anxiety and suspicion make a wicked and nauseating brew in your stomach. “Why?” You whisper, eyes narrowing on him as he takes a step closer. You stumble a step back, holding the phone out of his reach. 

You feel your hand tremble with its vibrations before it begins to ring again. You look towards it just as James lunges forward. His shoulder nearly barrels into you as he grabs your wrist. His grip is so tight you almost feel the bones creaking together. “James!” You gasp, the phone tumbling from your palm and into his hand. He shoves you back, tucking it in his pocket and glaring at you. 

“Don’t touch my phone,” you open your mouth to argue and he takes a large step forward. His foot slams against the ground and you flinch back from him, eyes wide in surprise. “Do you understand me,” he demands, slowly and his voice low. 

You nod, your jaw gaping as you stare at him. He runs a hand through his hair, refusing to meet your eye now. Dark strands fall onto his forehead and he looks more disheveled than you’ve seen him in a long while. 

He looks at his watch and clenches his eyes shut. He pauses, taking in a deep breath as he straightens his tie and rounds the kitchen island. “What are you doing?” You ask, your voice so quiet you’re surprised he even hears it. 

“Going to work,” he snaps. You can’t look at him, you just keep your eyes glued to the floor as the door slams shut. You hold your breath until you hear the car going down the driveway. Ever so slowly, you peel yourself away from the counter. 

Your hand drifts, without thinking, to the imprints on your wrist. “What the fuck,” you mutter, a stunned sort of silence taking over. You can’t help but just stand there, completely dumbfounded by how quickly a simple argument escalated. 

He’s always had a shorter temper than most, but that was extreme. A door slams upstairs and you scream, leaping forward and whirling towards the noise.  “What the fuck!” You shout again, stumbling towards the knife block behind you. You can hear footsteps running upstairs and swallow around a ball of fear sinking in your throat. 

You almost call out ‘whos there,’ but that’s a little too stupid for you. You’re not planning on being the bimbo who dies first in every horror movie. As much as James likes to tease you for being a little simple sometimes, you are equipped with basic survival skills. 

You look towards the coffee maker, the port where your home phone should be is empty. You rush towards the windows, glancing out the driveway and cursing when you find it empty. You were hoping that James might still be in his car, steaming before he comes back in to apologize. But, no, he’s really gone. 

Another door slams and it feels a little petty. Despite the way your heart races and you’re struggling to catch your breath, you don’t feel like you’re in any immediate danger. The looming presence that hung over you last night is gone. James had dismissed the lightbulb exploding as an old house and bad lighting. 

You know better, despite the claims otherwise, and you sincerely doubt that there’s an actual person upstairs. And whatever it is, was smart enough to steal your phone. You slink towards the end of the stairs, just barely craning your neck so you can see into your bedroom. Except the door isn’t open like you left it. 

Light comes through the crack of the closed door. You take a tentative step up, eyes squinting as you try and get a glimpse under the door. A shadow darts past, like rushing footsteps. You gasp, leaping back and covering your mouth with trembling hands. 

The hair on the back of your neck stands, and the loose hairs from your braids blow across your cheeks, tickling your sensitive skin. Old vents, that’s what James told you. His attempt to explain the inexplicable breeze that seems to be following you everywhere you go. You’re bundled head to toe in fuzzy socks, warm pants, and a too-big sweatshirt. And still, you feel your fingers nearly go numb and you can barely feel your nose anymore. 

That’s not a poor AC system. And those aren’t feet under your door. You’re so focused on simply watching the movements under the door that you completely forget anything else. You’re blind and deaf as you watch whatever is moving about in your room. A loud clank breaks through the silence and you nearly scream. 

Your bones almost jump out of your skin as the ice machine starts going and rattles up the old fridge. You clench your eyes shut, taking in a deep breath and glaring at the white machine. “Fuck me,” you mutter, holding your chest and just barely calming yourself down. 

You’ve only been here a night, you shouldn’t be so fucking terrified. You’re ready to just go out into the backyard and wait the rest of the day for James to come back. If you could drive off, you would. But you’ve only got one working car right now and he’s taken it to work. You move to grab your laptop off the couch when something creaks behind you. 

Old hinges cry out as they’re slowly forced to work. The sound of steps going down the stairs occupies the space behind you. You can’t find the bravery to turn around, too scared to see what might be there. Something ice cold passes through you. It nearly feels like a violation, as though something was rooting through your insides like it belonged there. It couldn’t have lasted more than two seconds but it was more than enough to have you nearly vomiting up your scarce breakfast. 

The moment it’s over you feel yourself calming down. As though an instinctual intuition has been activated, you know the danger’s passed. Whatever it had been trying to accomplish with that little show, it did it. 

You turn back to your room, the lights off and the door open, looking just as you left it. You glance over your shoulder, looking into the kitchen before starting up the stairs. You give a hesitant peek into the room like you expect it to be a wreck. But it looks spotless, the camera is in the same place James left it, still recording. 

You file that away in the back of your mind. Maybe the camera picked up what happened last night, or maybe James is right. You really are just getting too far into your head. A shrill ringing goes off near James nightstand and you frown. Your phone buzzes on his side of the bed, MOM lighting up the square screen. 

You let out a short huff, quickly snatching your phone and answering. Maybe she can talk some sense into you, or, more preferably, come over to keep you company. “Hey mom,” you answer, smiling slightly to yourself. It’s been a little while since you’ve been able to talk to her. James had banned phones after the honeymoon and then you’d gotten caught up in house stuff, jobs, and the aftermath of the wedding ‘incident.’

An older voice than you’d been expecting answers on the other end, saying your name in a confused tone. Your brows furrow and you frown, “Mrs. Barnes?”

“Honey,” she sounds strained, like she really hadn’t been expecting you to answer. James must have taken your phone by accident. It makes sense, they’re both the same model, but you put a little pink charm on your Nokia so you’d stop making this mistake. Yet, when you look to your left, you see your charm lying on your nightstand. When had you taken that off?

“Where’s James?”

“Um,” you’re still a little thrown off by her voice and take a second to answer. “Work, I think he took the wrong phone,” you laugh a little, disconcerted that it’s not your mother’s comforting voice. 

“Must have,” she answers, she sounds like she’s a million miles away, her tone distant. “Well, um, just tell him to call me back.”

“Alright,” you hesitate, concerned by how off she sounds. “Is everything alright?” You know things have been tough for her since her husband passed on. James’ sisters have been helping her adjust, but the wedding had taken him away from his family for a little while. He hasn’t actually shown any signs of wanting to reach out and it makes you feel guilty, like you’re keeping him away from her. 

Mrs. Barnes, a living saint you swear, has been nothing but kind as she welcomes you into her family. This is the first time she’s ever been so distant to you. You act more like her family than James does nowadays. 

“Has, uh,” she coughs, clearing her throat. You can almost hear what sounds like Francesca on the other end, hollering at her. The sound of James’ older sister’s voice makes you smile a little wider. “Has James said anything to you?”

Your brows furrow and you shake your head in confusion, even if she can’t see you. “About what?”

“Oh, crumbs,” she huffs and you have a feeling whatever she was about to say was important, but someone is snatching the phone away before you can hear the rest of it. You’d been so focused on her voice that you hadn’t even heard James come back in. 

He glares down at the phone, face pale and eyes wide like he’s expecting something horrific. When he places it to his ear and hears his mom’s voice, his shoulders slump in relief. You narrow your eyes at him, disoriented by the strange behavior. 

“Mom,” he interrupts her rudely, “I’ll call you later. Okay?” He hangs up before she can answer. He tugs your phone out of his pocket and tosses it next to you on the bed. “Answering my phone now? What are you, my secretary?”

You slip your phone into your back pocket, not looking at him as you get off the bed. “I thought it was mine. I think my charm broke off.” You put some distance between the two of you, glancing down at his phone and then back at him. “Why are you being so weird about it?”

He flinches like you’ve just accused him of something far worse than being overly protective of his phone. “I don’t like you digging around in my phone. That’s a problem now?” You open your mouth to argue, but he just keeps going, cutting you off, “You’re so goddamn paranoid. First the ghost, now this,” he gestures vaguely at you and you scoff, crossing your arms and glaring at him. 

You two are devolving far quicker than he had anticipated. It must have been a fragile relationship, to begin with. James slams the door and you slump down on the bed, you almost look like you want to cry. 

He goes down the stairs, watching through the window as your husband lingers on the front porch. He calls someone, his mom, and starts yelling at her as he gets to his car. Looking away from the window, he sighs. 

He’d been close, if James hadn’t come home he probably could have pushed you over the edge immediately. He doesn’t know if he’s disappointed or happy that his game gets to go on a little longer.

You come back down the stairs, eyes rimmed red and shoulders slumped in defeat. You brush through him, not even noticing the chill he leaves behind in you. You have the camera in your hand and a cord in the other. He grins, excited to finally have you see the truth of what happened last night. 

You plug the camera into your laptop, scrubbing through the footage of last night. He leans over your shoulder and watches as goosebumps rise along your skin. You sigh, tugging a blanket over your shoulders, but he knows that won’t do anything to help you. 

Nothing will unless you leave. But your husband has made it clear that you’re not getting out of here until he has actual proof anything supernatural lurks inside these haunted walls. Right here, in your lap, you have your proof. A phantom wind blows up the sheets of the bed, an unexplainable tug of your leg that drags you halfway down the bed. It’s violent and he almost feels sorry, he really hadn’t meant to hurt you, only scare you. 

His fingers drift over your leg and you jump, whirling around, wide eyes looking right through him. He can’t help but admire the way fear makes them shine. You’re quite pretty when you’re terrified, he couldn’t say the same for the hag that used to live here. 

You’re slow to turn back to the computer, but when you do, there’s a slight curve to your lips that he appreciates. “I fucking knew it,” you whisper, slamming the screen closed and getting to your feet. 

You’re giddy, he can taste the satisfaction overpowering the fear. You round the couch, taking in a deep breath and shaking out your arms. Your face sets in determination and you start working on clearing out the moving boxes. 

He doesn’t feel the urge to mess with you any further. He leaves you in peace, lounging in your armchair and watching you work. He’s got a nice surprise worked up for you tonight, no need to take today’s playtime any further. 

You’re efficient, only occasionally getting distracted as you smile at pictures of your wedding day. You put those up on the mantle, beside some family photos. It’s clear how much you value your familial bonds, even your husbands. You put it front and center in the home, reminding him of how it once looked. 

There’s a stark sense of deja vu as he watches you work, a nauseating feeling of what could have been. He can practically taste the newlywed bliss you’re going through. Even with your husband being a piece of work, you still value him, love him. He’d once known that love, hell, he’d reveled in it. 

But the curtain always has to come down. The magic’s never real. He’s doing you a favor by showing you the truth of it all. His gaze drifts away from you cooking dinner and he looks towards the pictures on the mantle. 

James’ mother reminds him of his own. He always wondered what happened to her, what her life was like after he was gone. Neither of them ever got what they wanted. She died wondering what happened to her only son, and he died without getting to say goodbye. 

He thinks of Bette, and feels that familiar white-hot rush of anger, your scream comes a moment later. He glances towards you, confused, before he follows your eyes and sees that he’s accidentally shattered the frames of the pictures. 

You gasp, sucking in shallow breaths as you stumble into the counter, brows furrowed in terror. He clenches his eyes shut, sucking in a deep breath, and tamps down on the anger overwhelming him. 

The door opens and your socked feet go rushing towards it, you nearly slip on the hardwoods, arms spinning wildly as you right yourself. James flinches away from your frantic hands as you grab his jacket and drag him inside. “The fucking pictures,” you stutter out your words and point frantically towards the mantle. 

James grimaces, tugging at your hands and looking towards him. He doesn’t see him, of course he doesn’t. But he does see his little accident. James scoffs, face screwing up in anger, he turns towards you. His face is set like a disappointed parent. “You broke them? Our wedding pictures, seriously. All because of a stupid fight?”

He jerks away from you, storming towards the glass and kicking at it. “You didn’t even clean it up,” he says your name, tone increasing in anger. You stare at him, disbelieving and open-mouthed. 

He sits back on the armchair, thoroughly amused. He hadn’t even had to do anything to turn him against you. Your sweet James has just been waiting for a reason to get mad. “This is fucking petty, even for you.”

“What, James,” you stumble over your words, taking a hesitant step towards him. He thinks you’re pretty when you’re scared, but not like this. He doesn’t appreciate the way you approach your husband like he’s a rabid dog. You shouldn’t be scared of him, not yet at least. He hasn’t even had his fun with him yet. 

“It wasn’t me, I swear-”

“Not this ghost shit again, seriously-”

“I have proof!” You shout, your voice is desperate as you try and make yourself louder than him. You run towards your laptop, and ignore the burning smell coming from the oven. He gets up, drifting towards it and turning it off before either of you can notice. No point in having the house burn down. Where would that leave him?

You plug the camera in, turning the screen towards him. James doesn’t make a move yet, simply glaring at you like you’re a bug to be swatted. “Please,” you beg, pathetic and needy. He huffs, rolling his eyes as he watches you both. It’s all so familiar to him, he feels like he’s watching his unfortunate disaster of a marriage play out through you. 

You scrub through the times, cussing as you pass over the clip of you getting dragged. There’s a frantic look in your eye as you hit play. It almost makes him feel bad for what’s about to happen. 

“What am I supposed to be looking at?” James snaps. 

Your face falls and you move the mouse forward and back, looking like a madwoman as you try to find the right moment. You won’t, he made sure of that. Nothing but static plays when you get to the parts that would prove your innocence. 

James tugs at his tie, shaking his head in disappointment. “Not only did you fuck up all our pictures, you didn’t even have dinner ready.” He shoves past you, heading up the stairs and muttering to himself. He pulls out his phone, lingering on a contact he shouldn’t before pressing call. 

You stay still in the living room, looking at the shattered glass and then the oven. “I made your favorite,” you whisper. You suck in a shaky breath, swallowing hard as you kneel down to try and pick up the remnants of your wedding photos. 

3 AM

He sits on the bed, glancing towards the blinking red light of the camera. There’s a clear wall between you and your husband, even if neither of you wants to acknowledge it. You lay curled up in yourself, like a child afraid to seek comfort. He pities you, truly. 

He remembers the happiness of youth, the rush of being married to the person you believe is the love of your life. He will never forget the pain of realizing the person you’ve given everything to turning into someone you don’t recognize. 

His hand drifts over the swell of your cheek. Your lashes flutter, nose wrinkling at the cold brush of his touch. But you don’t flinch away from him, instead leaning into him and looking almost happy by his touch. 

He looks to your husband, eyes narrowing on his relaxed form. He sees the phone lying near him and his face sets in determination. He’s not going to let you fall into the same trap he did. And he certainly isn’t about to let another soul cramp the already stuffy walls of his home. 

It’s been quiet around the house. Less strange events and more strained dinners between you and your husband. You’ve taken to bringing the camera everywhere with you. But anytime a light bulb explodes or a frame topples over, the video goes static. 

You should have given up the hunt for evidence but you can’t give it up. You just need James to see, you need him to believe you. Or, at the very least, you need some assurance that you’re not going crazy. You’ve begun to consider the possibility. 

The bruise on your leg is gone, the constant chills that rack you are still very much present, but there’s nothing else. Everything that happens can be explained by the age of the house. You’ve only briefly discussed it with James’ sisters. Elizabeth gave you the number of a medium she knows. 

James had gotten angry when he found the business card after her visit. He didn’t like her filling your head with more nonsense and indulging you. You didn’t like how dismissive he was. It’s been a few days since the fight and you still have no desire to reconcile with him. 

It’s becoming easier to simply ignore his presence around the house. You know it’s not healthy. You’ve only just begun the marriage, you don’t need to have communication issues tainting it before it’s even on its legs. 

Still, it’s as though something’s keeping you from him. Every attempt at speaking with him is interrupted, thoughts of apologizing just to placate him are struck from your head quicker than they come. 

You stand up from the kitchen table, placing your pictures to the side. You’ve finally gotten new frames for them all, you only need to put them back up. You have no problems putting up the family pictures. Yet, the moment you make to grab the wedding picture of you and James, you grow inexplicably tired. 

Your eyelids flutter shut and you sway on your feet. Your bones grow heavy like you’ve been working all day. But you’ve only been up a few hours, and you had so much more to do today. You try and fight forward, leaning on the table and reaching for the portrait again. You almost feel like you’re nudged back, moved towards the couch. 

A short nap, you promise yourself. Just long enough to get your energy back. 

He followed him to work. That’s never happened before. He’s never been able to follow someone out of the house. He tried, with Steve, he tried to make every aspect of his life hell. But he couldn’t. 

Yet, with this one, he has no problem following him. Maybe it’s the odd resemblance they have. A haircut and a shave, they could be identical twins. But then again, he hasn’t seen his face in a long while, perhaps he’s misremembering it. 

It’s difficult to maintain this control. Half of him lingers in the house, with you, the other half is here. He’s being drawn closer to James and further from you. He doesn’t know if that’s conducive or an interruption to his plans. 

He only vaguely sees you, in his mind’s eye. He leads you to the couch, lays you down, and keeps you away from the reminders of James. He’s gotten good at keeping you both separated. It was easy to begin with, all he’s doing is showing you the truth of the man you married. If only he could really show you. 

James phone rings and he focuses on him once more. It’s Martha again. He hasn’t figured out the truth of their relationship, he’s sure he already knows it. He’s lived this life once, knows the truth of why a husband would act like this. The late-night calls, the constant misdirection of anger. 

He’s paranoid, terrified you’ll find out the truth. He wants to have his cake and eat it too. The perfect housewife at home, and the mistress who fulfills his every desire. At least, that’s his theory. He still needs to be completely sure. 

He ignores James, focusing once more on his connection to the house. He finds you right where he left you, deep in your sleep and completely oblivious to the world around you. He kneels before you, sweeping some hair off your cheeks and tilting his head as he takes in your restful face. 

You look so peaceful when you’re like this, a slight curl to your lips as you wander through dreamland. He wished he could keep you like this, wished he could completely get rid of James. But without him, you wouldn’t be able to keep the house. You’d leave it, leave him. He can’t have that. He’s been lonely for so long, he needs you, craves you. 

6 PM

“How was work?”

“Fine.”

Chewing fills the cavernous silence of your dining room. Forks scrape across porcelain, shallow breaths as you both dance around the tension that threatens to tie a noose around your marriage. You reach for your wine, hoping for another heady swallow. Just like before, you’re dissuaded from it. 

You grow tired at the thought of drowning your sorrows in the alcohol for another night. You clench your eyes shut and take a deep breath, moving the glass away from you and turning back to the roast you made. 

James’ brows furrow as he watches you. “Everything alright?”

You hum, “Tired.” He scoffs and your face falls flat. He shakes his head, muttering something under his breath as he cuts more aggressively into the meat. "Something wrong?” You demand, sucking on your teeth as you anticipate his answer. You’re sure it’s going to be the same broken record he’s been playing since the honeymoon. 

“Nothing,” he shrugs, tone dismissive. He pauses, taking a deep breath before laughing sardonically. “It’s just funny.” You hate how he does this, drags out his answers, and forces you to take the bait. 

You’re not playing this game of his tonight. You won’t do it again. You can’t keep going in circles with him, can’t keep indulging him in these childish tantrums. He waits, eyebrows raised and pretty blue eyes boring into yours, demanding attention. 

Those damn eyes. You wish he was just a little uglier, maybe then you wouldn’t have been so blind to how fucking awful he really is. You almost resent his mother and sisters for this. They could have warned you off, told you the horror stories of his past before the wedding. Instead, they’d warned you after it was too late and your entire life was entangled in his. 

“I work all day, come home, want a peaceful meal. What do I get?”

He falls silent again and you let out a heavy sigh. “I don’t know, James,” you drawl, bored of this already. Your patience for him is practically nonexistent nowadays. You used to be able to endure these conversations with him, or at the very least soothe him. But you’re tired of feeling like a babysitter and not the wife you’re supposed to be. “What do you get? A homecooked meal, a clean house, someone to come home to. Tell me,” you demand, slamming your hand on the table and surprising him. “What the fuck do you get?”

“A nagging fucking wife who does jack shit all day and complains about being tired! I work for us, so you can stay home and live out your little housewife fantasies!”

Your jaw drops and you suck in a sharp breath. You can’t even form words, nearly laughing at the audacity and ridiculousness of what he’s saying. “Oh my god,” you can only scoff, shaking your head and leaning back in your chair. You smile and roll your eyes. “You’re kidding, right?”

“No.” He stands, leaning on the table and trying to make himself bigger than he is. It only paints him in a more pathetic light. 

You cut him off before he can say anything else, scooping up your plate and storming into the kitchen. “You’re the one who insisted I quit my job. You,” you turn and gesture towards him, a disgusted sneer on your face, “wanted a fucking housewife. I was just the dumbass that listened to you. You have no right to throw that in my face. You wanted this, James!”

“Yeah, well,” for a moment you think he’s speechless. His jaw opens and closes, nothing but air leaving his parted lips. You should know better by now, he’s always got some bullshit to spew. “I didn’t think you’d be so incompetent at this.”

You drop the plate in the sink, leaning on it for support and closing your eyes. You take in deep breaths, trying to cool down the heat racing under your skin. Your blood’s pumping so hard you’re surprised a vein hasn’t burst yet. 

“Fuck this,” you push off the sink, shoving past him and moving towards the front door. 

“What are you doing?” He demands, watching as you grab your coat and your keys. 

“Going for a walk,” you tell him shortly, slamming the door behind you. You just need some time away from him, away from the suffocating shadow that seems to linger behind him all the time now. 

You pull the business card Elizabeth had given you and dial the number. You don’t know if this anger is coming from whatever the hell lives in that house or if this was always coming. But you’re not going to just roll over and let this thing ruin your marriage. 

7 PM

You’re out for an hour. He’s upset the entire time. He wants to drive James’ head into the corner of the counter over and over again until there’s nothing left but unidentifiable mush. It’s the same fight he used to have. It always started over something so stupid, he could never say anything right. 

No matter how many times he thought he finally figured Bette out. Every time he thought he had avoided some trigger for her, a new one formed. It didn’t matter how perfect of a husband he was, he would never be enough because he wasn't him. He wasn’t Steve, the man who could do no wrong in her eyes. 

He stands in the corner and watches as James paces for a while before he finally leaves, taking his keys and his phone. He takes the car and leaves you stranded here at the house. 

He knows that James could fix the car sitting idle in the garage. He could fix the car. It’s just another way of keeping you under control. James gets to decide when and where you get to go out, you don’t get a say. 

You seem relieved, though, when you come back and see James gone. You’re happier without your husband, it’s both good and bad. He needs you to resent James, needs you to hate him. But that could prove tricky for him in the future. 

“Thank you so much,” you’re on the phone, you’ve got something lumpy in your jacket. One hand lays under the buttons of your coat, stroking idly. “Yeah, Thursday sounds great. Thank you, again, for coming on such late notice.”

You hang up, placing your keys and phone in the bowl by the door. “Alright, sweetheart, let’s get you cleaned up.” You open your jacket, revealing a bundle of matted, dirty fur underneath. Somewhere in all that mess is the scrunched face of a pissed-off cat. 

You coo to it, stroking its head and ignoring the fact it looks like it wants to rip your hand off. You bring it to the kitchen sink and he watches as you take the next few hours to wash its wounds and properly groom it. 

He never cared much for cats, or any animals, really. He never had the time or the energy to try and take care of something other than Bette. She was practically a full-time job to cater to. But he enjoys how peaceful you look being able to take care of the cat. He enjoys how much sympathy you display, even as the little bastard rips and tears at your pretty skin. 

He looms over your shoulder, stroking his phantom fingers over the cat's wet fur. It’s enough to scare it into submission. Its claws release your skin and it shrinks back into your hold. He grins, backing away and leaving you to it. 

You frown down at the cat, murmuring soothing words to it as you look around the kitchen. Sometimes he thinks you see him, thinks you can truly see through all the walls and witness what’s left of the man he was. He knows it's foolish, a ridiculous hope. 

You’ll never be able to see him. Even if you could, you would only think of him as a tormentor. He was a blight on your home and marriage, why would you ever care about him?

3 AM

You feel eyes on you. Not the unfamiliar eyes you’ve been feeling, you know these. Intimately. You stir from your light sleep, squinting through the dark. Minimal light comes in through the blinds, but it's just enough for you to see the figure standing beside you. 

You gasp, flinching away from James. He just stands over you, glaring down at where you slept. Eyes devoid of anything. “James?” You whisper. Alpine, the cat you snagged from a neighbor’s dumpster, leaps off the bed. 

She hisses at James, skirting around him and running out of the room. Your brows furrow in confusion. You look back to James, muttering his name again. He gasps like he was dragged out of a coma. 

He stumbles on his feet, tripping over them and nearly nosediving into the bed. You instinctively steady him, guiding him onto the bed beside you. “What are you doing?” You hiss at him, holding his face in your hands and looking him over for any explanation of what was just happening. 

You’ve never even heard him talk in his sleep. Let alone, sleep with his eyes wide open and staring at you. It was beyond disturbing. There’s something unfamiliar in his eyes, they’re soft as he looks at you. Soft in a way they haven’t been for a long time. 

His hand comes up to cup yours, the other almost hesitantly running across your cheek. “James?” You ask again, caught off guard by the odd display of affection.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters. You’re ninety percent sure you’re still dreaming, he’s never apologized first before. It’s always been you to broker the peace. You’ll sacrifice being right if it means he’ll stop giving you the cold shoulder, he’s never done the same. 

You try to ask him what he’s talking about, but he’s surging forward before you can speak. His lips are chapped, dryer than you’re used to. He doesn’t give you much time to process anything. His hands drift to your waist, dragging you into his lap as he tilts his head to deepen the kiss. You’re taken aback by the taste of metal on his tongue. It’s coppery and bitter, not at all like the mint toothpaste you both use. 

He’s not kissing you like you’re used to. He’s not trying to devour you or suffocate you by shoving his tongue as far as it goes down your throat. This is gentle, sweet. It feels like you’re being savored, not claimed. You don’t mind it, in fact, it would be nice if you weren’t so disturbed. 

He’s not acting like himself, he barely looks like he should, and he tastes wrong. This isn’t your husband kissing you. You want to pull away, you try to. But his fingers are digging into your waist and your lips are firmly locked. You can feel the chill of his hands through your pajamas. They’re like icicles, you’re sure there’s going to be a mark from them in the morning. 

“James,” you manage to mutter, pulling away from him just enough to catch your breath. “What’s,” you trail off, tongue growing too heavy to speak. Your words slur together, become one nonsensical jumble stuck in your throat. 

He shakes his head, biting his lip and slowly lowering you back onto the bed. “I’m sorry. I thought this would work.” You narrow your eyes, you have barely enough energy to shake your head in confusion. Your lips part to ask another question. He leans down, pressing one last gentle kiss to you before your eyes roll back and you’re asleep again. 

“I told you I have it handled,” James practically pouts as he sits in your armchair. You used to use it to crochet, it’s got the best view of the backyard and you like to watch the bunnies that live under the porch. But more and more, he stays there. Every second he’s home, he seems to live in that chair. 

Bette had given it to you with the house. You hadn’t really thought anything of it, but with how he’s been acting lately, you can’t help but wonder if its’ connected to whatever secrets live in these walls. Most people would be haunted and their husbands would get worse, you seem to be experiencing the opposite. 

He’s kinder, he’s bringing you flowers and cooking you breakfast. You’re woken up with praise and gentle kisses. Then he’s back to normal by lunchtime. He’s miserable at dinner, only to wake you up in the middle of the night with saccharine apologies. You’re so sick and tired of living in this whirlwind of love and misery. You just want some goddamn answers. 

You need to know the truth of what’s happening to you. Is this just how James is? Is this the house? Is there even anything wrong with the house?

You’re hoping the medium will be able to answer that for you today. Mystic Wanda, the name doesn’t give you much hope but Elizabeth told you she’s one of the best. 

Alpine runs against your legs and James glowers at her. “I told you I wanted her out of here.”

“Tough,” you respond bluntly, eyes trained on the front door. He’d thrown a hissy fit when he saw her the morning after your weird make-out session. You hadn’t bent, though, and you know he’s still upset you’re no longer blindly giving into his whims. 

The doorbell rings and you leap off the couch, rushing towards the door and throwing it open. Wanda’s eyes widen in amusement and she smiles at your eagerness. “Please, come in, and thank you again for coming on such short notice.”

You usher her inside, offering to take her jacket. She passes it to you, eyeing the interior of your home and giving you an appeasing smile. “Well, Elizabeth is a good friend of mine, she told me you were having an emergency and I wanted to help.”

James scoffs from the armchair and she glances over at him with a bemused look. You glare at him over her shoulder. “James, I presume?”

“Oh,” his eyes widen in faux amazement, “did you divine that?”

Her eyebrows raise and you know she’s unimpressed. “I could tell from the attitude. Your sister warned me you were a cynic.”

He mutters a bitter, “Whatever,” under his breath and goes back to ignoring her. 

“I’m sorry about him,” you take her by the elbow, guiding her into the kitchen and away from him. You peer over into the living room, ensuring he can’t hear you. Wanda waits expectantly for you to begin speaking. 

“He’s why I wanted you to come.” You tell her, fiddling idly with your wedding band. “He’s not himself lately.”

“More volatile?” She guesses and you shake your head, laughing bitterly to yourself.

“Less, actually. But he’s unpredictable. I never know when he’s going to be this sweet stranger or the miserable man I’ve grown used to.”

Her brows twitch and a confused smile graces her lips. “Most people aren’t upset when their husband gets better.”

“I know it’s odd,” you admit, sighing and looking down at the countertop. “But, I just need to know I’m not going crazy. I’ve been dragging this around everywhere,” you push your camera towards her. “Every time something happens, the feed cuts out. I’ve been dragged down my bed, harassed, made to think I’m losing my mind.”

You run a rough hand over your face, feeling the aches of this whole experience settle wearily along your bones. “I just need some clarity. That’s all.”

“Well,” she reaches for your hand, squeezing it in hers and giving you a comforting smile. “I can certainly help with that.”

Wanda sits in the armchair, having booted James out of it. He seems a little bit more cognizant as he sits beside you, a little more scared. You keep a wary eye on him while Wanda closes her eyes and “connects” with the house, as she put it. 

She breaks the silence abruptly and it makes you jump. “This chair came with the house?” You nod silently but you have a feeling she already knew the answer. She hums, running her hand along the arm of it. 

“It was his before it was stolen by the man he called friend. He lives in it, watches you from it.” You feel your heart racing, panic steadily rising within you. It’s like a physical caress, the fear trailing down your spine. “He wants something, too many things,” she sighs and shakes her head, frustration playing along her fine features. “It’s hard to discern the truth of it all.”

“But he’s real?” You cut in, imploring her to tell you what you’re desperate to hear.

She gives you a resigned smile, but there’s no happiness in it. “I’m afraid so.” She shouldn’t be so apologetic, this is all you wanted. To know you weren’t crazy, to have James hear it too. But when you look to him for some satisfactory celebration, his face is slack. 

“James?” 

Wanda leaps up from the chair, taking a step towards him. Your husband is gone, any sign of awareness or thought is completely gone. He looks devoid of life, like he’s been a living corpse for weeks. “James?” You call again, voice threatening to break. 

His jaw snaps shut and you jump back, rushing off the couch and stumbling towards Wanda. She grabs you, tugging you behind her, and takes in a deep inhale. “It’s him,” she whispers, eyes wide with fear. “I’ve never encountered one so strong before.”

You glance at her and then back at James. There’s fury playing on his features, and again, those eyes you don’t recognize yet somehow feel familiar. “I think you should leave,” he demands, his voice low. 

It isn’t the normal way he commands you. This is a threat, a complete assurance of power. James stands up in one fluid motion, stalking toward Wanda. She goes stiff before you and you worry she’s going to go slack the same way James did. 

“Now,” he tells her, eyebrows raised with impatience. 

“James, she can help,” you try. His head whips toward yours and you flinch away from the intense look he gives you. 

“We don’t need her help,” he whispers your name and it almost sounds like he’s pleading with you. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion, you glance between Wanda and James, unsure which to follow. 

Wanda shakes her head as you take a step back from her. James’ shoulders slump with relief. “Don’t do this,” Wanda warns. “I won’t be able to come back here again. He’s growing stronger, you’ll be beyond anyone’s help soon-”

She's cut off as the light bulb above you explodes. You scream, moving instinctively towards your husband. His arms eagerly wrap around you, drawing you into his gentle hold. He runs a hand over your back and you almost miss the quiet apology he mutters into your hair. 

“Leave,” James doesn’t have to tell her again. She practically runs to the door, nearly forgetting her coat as she rushes out. You slump against him, somehow feeling defeated even after getting what you wanted. 

“Doll?” He peers down at you, pulling back slightly to get a better look. “Are you okay?”

You stare into eyes you know don’t belong to your husband and force yourself to nod. You let this stranger hold you close and ignore the sinking weight of guilt. He feels so much better than James ever did and you hate yourself for thinking that. 

Your husband is in there somewhere, being tormented by some malevolent spirit, and you’re letting him do what he wants to you. Playing house with him like everything’s normal. “Come on, let's go outside.”

You can’t do anything except listen to him. In the back of your mind, you think about how odd it is that he’s showing himself now. He usually waits until later in the day. 

How sick is it, you have a schedule for when your husband will be possessed?

He leads you to the back porch, to the rocking chairs that were there when you moved in. but he doesn’t let you sit in one. No, he guides you down onto his lap, keeping you close as you get yourself comfortable. 

James isn’t like this. He doesn’t let you love him like this. Your touch practically repulses him nowadays. But he can’t seem to get enough of you now. Holding onto you like he might not get to again. 

“Wanda said he was growing stronger,” you mutter absentmindly. He goes tense under you, but he doesn’t yell at you or get mad. He just squeezes your hand in his, idly tracing shapes over your palm. 

“I was thinking of planting some rosebushes,” he tells you, completely brushing over what you said. 

“I thought you wanted to rip the garden out and build a pool,” you tell him bitterly. The neighborhood has its own pool. You’ve been begging James to keep the old lady’s flowers in the back but he won’t have it. 

Now, miraculously, he’s giving in to your whims. You don’t know if you should be happy or disgusted. You’re sitting on the lap of something that isn’t your husband anymore. You don’t feel like you can trust your mind anymore. You struggle to differentiate between your dreams and reality. 

He laughs a little, brushing some hair out of your face and smiling at you. It’s not the smile you fell in love with, or the eyes you fell in love with, but you can feel yourself falling. Or, maybe, you’re just desperate for someone to be kind to you. For someone to love you the way a husband should love his wife. 

“I want you to be happy, Doll.” James doesn’t call you Doll.

“Maybe some gardenias too,” you lean back into his chest, letting yourself get more comfortable. 

You feel his smile against your skin, he turns his nose to nuzzle against your cheek, planting a kiss there. “I’ll buy the seeds tomorrow.” You nod absentmindedly, trying to settle the way your stomach flips. 

3 AM

“James!” You scream his name, leaping onto his side of the bed and holding onto him as tight as you can. He shoots up, grabbing you and turning you to face him. 

“What?” He demands, face pale with worry. 

You frown, glaring at him, “You didn’t hear that?” The bedroom door slams closed and you scream again, curling into his hold. 

“Holy shit!” He shouts, he tries to hold onto you but something grabs his leg. The same way you’d been dragged the first night, he’s pulled out of bed. You scream his name, the bedroom door flies open, and watch as he’s dragged into the hall. 

You leap over the bed, feet tangled in the sheets as you lunge towards the door. He’s screaming, primal sounds of nothing but pure terror ripping through the house. You pound on the locked door, tearing at the knob until you think you might rip it off. 

“James! Please!” You sob against the wood, slamming your shoulder into it until it cracks. Pain shoots down to your elbow and you flinch back, “Fuck,” the screams go quiet on the other side of the door and your eyes widen. 

“James!” You screech, your fists pound against the door until you feel the skin crack and blood dribble down your arms. Something cool brushes against your neck, like a breath. “Stop,” you plead, “stop it, give him back.”

The door swings outward, the wrong way, and you wonder how the hinges don’t break. The only light on is the linen closet. The same closest that you know has a scuttlehole. You don’t think, just run towards it. Your bare feet pound against the hardwood, shaking the whole house in your race for the door. 

You burst through, nearly stumbling facefirst into the ladder. You clench your eyes shut, nails digging into your palms as you look up to see the scuttle hole already open and beckoning you forward. 

Blood trails up the ladder and you could almost cry seeing it. You can’t waste time, can’t dawdle. You don’t know what happened to James but you know it’s not good that he’s quiet. You force yourself up the rickety ladder, pulling yourself into the attic and looking around for any signs of life. 

You didn’t realize how much junk the old lady had left behind in the house. But the attic is chock full of her past. Dusty and browned filing boxes litter old antique tables. Wardrobes, trunks of clothes from the fifties. A mannequin with an unfinished dress. There’s an entire life up here, one she seemed to have just willingly left behind. 

You frown down at something that really draws your eye, a box with a scrawled B.B. on the side. The light’s on, but it's dim and only illuminates the box. Still, you try and squint through the dark to find James. There’s no sign of him anywhere, you can’t help but wonder what the trail of blood on the ladder was. 

You lean down and pick up the box. “What’re you doing?”

You scream, your throat going sore from how much you seem to be doing that tonight. James is on the ladder behind you, a dazed look on his face as he waits for your answer. You tilt your head in confusion, trying to calm your heart from the adrenaline rush that was ten minutes earlier. 

These are different eyes. This isn’t him. Your gaze darts back to the box and you pass it to him. “Take that,” you demand. He doesn’t question you, if anything it seems to make him happy. He drops it down the ladder and holds his hand out to help you down. 

You take it, hissing at how cold his hands are. He only gives you another eerie smirk. Once you’re steady and on the ground, you back slowly out into the hallway. “What happened earlier?”

He shrugs, “I don’t know. I must have been sleepwalking.”

Your face drops and you scoff, “You were fucking dragged down the hall and I got locked in the bedroom. You weren’t sleepwaking, James.”

He wraps an arm around your shoulder and flips the lights off. You’re plunged into darkness, a slight whimper ripping its way out of your throat. You’re forced to rely on his guidance as he leads you down the hall. “You’re tired, Doll, we should just go to bed.”

You think back to the box, waiting for you in the closet. There’s no arguing with him, though. You’ll have to deal with it tomorrow morning. You can only pray that you’re not awoken so violently again. 

“Sweetheart,” you mumble tiredly, swatting blindly at the voice. There’s a low chuckle, and then the familiar press of lips against your forehead. “Wake up, I’ve gotta go soon.”

You’re slow to open your eyes, just barely making out James’ blurry shape. “James,” you mutter, narrowing your eyes to try and force them to focus on his form. “What’re you doing?” You asked, words slurring together. 

He places a tray down on the nightstand and the smells of coffee and pancakes break your dazed trance. You sit up straighter in bed, giving him a confused look. Two years of dating, and a few months of marriage, not once has he greeted you with breakfast in bed. 

“James?” you question, he only shakes his head, darting forward to kiss you. Your eyes flutter shut and you find yourself leaning into the touch. It doesn’t take long for it to grow heated, his chilled hands drifting under your shirt and tugging you towards him. 

You’re finding it easier and easier to simply give in to his whims. Your legs spread over his and you melt into his hold like you were made to fit against him. “Shit, Doll,” he huffs against your parted lips, pupils blown wide as he stares up at you. His lips are a pretty pink, swollen, and glistening from your kisses. You almost want to bite them. 

You hold back the urge, leaning back and giving him a small smile. It’s enough to make his whole face light up. “You know how badly I want to stay in bed with you today?” You almost invite him to, but the foggy cloud of an abrupt wake-up finally parts. 

You remember the box from last night, what you need to do today. So, you pull back from him, his arms releasing you reluctantly. It’s so peculiar, how his metal hand is warmer than the flesh one. “Going to work?”

He hums, eyes narrowing in on you suspiciously. You reach for the coffee and take a sip, exactly how you like it. It’s pathetic that your suspicion grows because you know your husband doesn’t know how you take your coffee. 

“I’ll miss you,” you tell him, and it’s the first time you haven’t had to force the words out to appease him. It almost feels genuine this time. He gives you a resigned smile, kissing your cheek and leaning back. 

He pets Alpine, stroking down her smooth white fur and smiling at her too. “I’ll see you both later,” he tells you, a promise. You bite your lip and nod. His footsteps echo down the stairs and you leap off the bed, the abrupt move scaring the life out of Alpine. She growls in discontent and stalks off. The door closes and you run to the window, watching the driveway to make sure he’s gone for sure. 

You race into the hall, throwing the closet door open and dragging the dusty box out. Mildew and mold cling to it, but you don’t have time to be concerned with germs. You need answers. You take it downstairs, toss it on the kitchen table, and forget all about your breakfast upstairs. 

It’s odd, how much cozier the house has become. Sunlight streams through the windows and warms your seats and couches. You no longer feel eyes in the shadows. A creak is just a creak. It’s like your fear has just been snatched from you. 

The thought is enough to unsettle you, but you ignore it for now. You’ll worry about that another day. You toss the lid of the file box inside and what greets you only further irritates you. Piles of unorganized papers and pictures, each of the more faded by time than the other. 

You pluck out the first one you see and nearly gasp. It’s James, but not James. A picture of a WWII soldier, in his uniform and posing in front of an army vehicle. He looks just like your husband, but his eyes crinkle a little more when he smiles, his happiness palpable through the picture. He’s even got a prosthetic arm. 

You flip the picture over, James ‘Bucky’ Barnes, is written out in pretty cursive. Directly under it is 1942. You drop the picture, taking a few steps back and shaking your head. “No, no, nope,” you shake your head, simply ignoring the truth that lay in front of you. 

Somewhere out there, there’s an alternative version of your husband who was a WWII veteran and apparently lived in this house. Same fucking name and everything. “Oh, fuck me, this is insane.” You glare at the box, not wanting to believe anything you’re seeing. 

How could your life have devolved into this shitfest, just because you moved into one fucking house? How could one crappy ad in the newspaper have completely turned your life upside down and thrown you into the twilight zone?

You throw yourself into a chair, slumping over the wooden table and taking in grounding breaths. You wanted the truth, you’re going to get it. Even if none of it makes any sense. The next few pictures you grab are all in the same sepia tint. One of him standing in front of the garden, another before a truck, even one in the goddamn armchair currently sitting in your living room. And in each one, he looks as happy as can be. But there’s something nearly artificial in his smile. 

You look at the pictures on your mantle and frown. You can’t exactly judge him. You’ve got the same smile in all your pictures too. Just slightly off, something about it slightly forced for the sake of the person beside you.

You find one of him with a very unhappy-looking woman. She’s pretty, even if she does look a little wicked, and she also looks remarkably like you. What bizzaro world is this? She’s nearly identical to you, but she looks goddamn miserable. A hulking blond man has his arm slung around Bucky, fingers just barely grazing the woman’s shoulder. 

You flip it over and find, Bette, Bucky & Steve at the new house, 1950. Bette, the woman who sold you the house. Who told you what nursing home her kids were sticking her in. You leap up from the table, running to grab your coat and racing out of the house. 

Bucky glances down at James' phone and grins. He pulls the car into the apartment complex and picks up the call, “Hello?”

“Where are you?” The woman on the other end demands sharply. 

Bucky sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose and fighting back the spirit surging within him. His left hand twitches without his permission and his eyes narrow in frustration. James was easy enough to subdue last night. He was caught off guard, terrified. 

Now, he’s pissed off and fighting. Bucky doesn’t appreciate the efforts to take control. “I just pulled in. I’ll be up in a minute.” He shuts the phone off and jerks the rearview mirror to face him. The eyes that stare back at him are not his own. 

“Don’t you fucking touch her,” James demands, spitting the words out like he has any sort of power over Bucky. 

Bucky grins, “Wasn’t planning on it.”

James’ face falls and his eyes widen with worry. “What does that mean?” Bucky flips the mirror back in place, glancing up to the third-story apartment where Martha waits for him. He turns the engine off, slowly exits the car, and makes his way up the stairs. 

He’s sure to take his time, enjoying how James grows more and more terrified. It only feeds him, makes him stronger, and grants him more control over him. He’s getting better at controlling him, finally had enough strength to fully take over last night. 

Before, he only had the energy to take over the body for a few hours, at most. But the longer he held influence over James, the further his influence spread. Soon, he could leave the house, without having to use James’ body as an anchor. He’s evolved past anchors and the brick walls that once contained him. He only had one last loose end before he could be with you fully. 

He knocked on the red door, waiting for Martha to answer. It didn’t take long. She threw the door open, face screwed up with rage. “Look who came back. I told you that little bitch of yours wouldn’t be good enough for you.”

Bucky kept the look on his face serene. He tried not to show the rage that raced through him at her grating tone. He wanted to rip her tongue out and choke her with it. He wished he could pluck out her eyeballs and serve them to her on a silver platter. A million different ways came to him as he stepped into her apartment. 

“Hello, Martha.”

“Thanks for seeing me, Bette.”

Bette kept her hands in her lap, picking at the wrinkles of her skin. “It’s grown so thin,” she looked at you, seeing straight through you. “I used to be like you, so pretty, so young.”

Your face screws up in discomfort and you nod dismissively. “You know why I want to talk.”

Bette sighs and clicks her tongue. “Oh, Bucky,” she says his name forlornly, playing the perfect mourning lover. But you know better, she doesn’t mean a damn bit of her grief. 

“Drop it,” you snap, looking around to make sure no nurses are watching. The white sterile walls of the nursing home loom over you. Bette’s eyes snap towards you, the thin film of dementia disappears and she slumps into her chair. 

“Fine. Dammit, what the hell do you want? You already took my house.”

“Yeah, and your damn ghost. I want some fucking answers, Bette.”

She chuckles, the noise bitter and her expression cruel. “You know, you remind me a lot of Bucky. Got that same kicked puppy look to you that makes me want to smack you around.” Despite your best intentions of remaining passive, you feel your heart twinge in sympathy for Bucky. 

Bette’s got the same bitter look in her eye that James used to. You don’t see much of it anymore. Strange how much your life has changed in just over two weeks. “I thought he’d see you and finally move on. He’d finally get his damn revenge on me, I mean you look just like me.”

You can’t help but agree with her. You slip the picture out of your purse and put it on the table before you. “I saw,” you mutter, glancing down at the uncanny resemblance between you both. “I want to know what happened, Bette. I want to know why he’s stuck in my walls, why he’s stuck in my husband,” you add.

Her eyes widen and her jaw gapes. “He’s got your husband?” You nod and you’re caught off guard when she begins to cackle. “God, even dead he’s still the same pathetic, snivelling bastard he used to be.”

You can’t help but get angry, you almost want to defend him. Sure, he’s tormented you, but clearly, he had a reason to be bitter about having to look at your face all the damn time. You’d go crazy too if this was the bitch you were married to. 

“Bette,” you warn, voice low. 

She huffs and snatches the picture. “No harm in telling you, I suppose.” She gives you a wicked grin, “No one will believe you anyway.”

“I met Bucky when I was young, too young. We got married because he was getting shipped off to war. He wanted someone to write letters to, to come home to, and I figured he’d die before I ever saw him again. I could cash in on widow’s benefits. Then the son of a bitch had to go and get honorably discharged for getting his arm blown off.”

Your brows furrow in disgust. You’ve never seen such an evil old woman before. You pray you don’t turn into a wicked old hag like her when you get older. “Steve, his best friend, was discharged around the same time as him. Came to live with us for a while so he could get his life in order.”

Bette glares at you and tosses the picture back to you. You catch it before it slides off the table and she keeps going. “See, some women weren’t as loyal as I was. His lady moved on real fast, left him lonely and looking for a warm place to sleep at night. Bucky, well, he just wasn’t a man. He obeyed me like a little bitch and took every hit I gave him because he thought he deserved it. Steve never did that, always put me in my place. He was a man,” she hisses out the word and you have the sudden urge to slap her. 

“One thing led to another, we were in love and Bucky was in the way. We got rid of him, what else do you want me to say?”

You can’t even figure out where to begin. She’s fucking despicable. Not only did she not love him, he was utterly devoted to her and she fucked his best friend. Killed him to be with him. Despite this overload of information, only one question comes to you. 

“Where did you bury him?”

5 PM

You let out a loud grunt, sweat pouring down your back as you bring the sledgehammer into the brick wall. There’s a loud crack and you pause, taking a step back. A moment later a brick slips out of its place. It doesn’t take much longer for the others to follow. 

There’s a loud crash as it all comes tumbling down, decades of dust and debris float into the air. It drifts down your nose and creeps into your lungs. You drop the sledgehammer to the cement of the basement with a clatter. You kneel over, waving the dust away and trying to cough it out. 

Something rolls against the floor, something hollow that clatters against your shoe. You glance down, stunned into silence as a gaping skull stares back up at you. You stumble away from it, nearly kicking it back, and trip right into the warm chest of your husband. 

Bucky stares down at you, his face blank and devoid of anything you might be able to read. “You talked to Bette?”

You nod mutely, taking a step back from him. You wince as your heel comes down on something that cracks under your weight. You try to look down, to see what bone you’ve just broken, but he stops you. He grabs your chin, tilting your face towards him and forcing you to meet his eyes. “What are you going to do?” He demands, he tries to sound strong, but you can hear the fear that trembles under the cool tone. 

Rest In Peace

Husband, Brother, Friend

James Buchanan Barnes

“It’s a bit morbid isn’t it?” You peer up at him and shake your head. 

“No, he deserves a proper burial.” You place the flowers on top of the fresh grave and stand. You take a few steps back and Bucky pulls you into his chest. “You, I mean. I just feel like your memory deserves its rightful resting place.”

He lets out a heavy sigh and you squeeze his hand. “You think Steve’s in here somewhere?”

You scoff and feel yourself growing angry on his behalf. “He deserves to rot under a bridge somewhere, along with that bitch.”

Bucky laughs pulling back from you and giving you a wide smile. It’s genuine, the first genuine smile you’ve seen on his face in a long time. “Thank you,” he mutters. You shrug, leaning up and pressing a kiss to his cheek. 

“I’m your wife, I’m supposed to have your back.” You reach up, pushing a wave back behind his ear. He’s finally let his hair grow out again. He complains it gets in his eyes when he tries to garden, but you love how it looks on him so he keeps it. 

His face lights up, the same way it always does when you say you’re his wife. You interlace your fingers together, pulling him away from his grave and back towards the car. You’re supposed to meet Mrs. Barnes soon, you’re having Thanksgiving dinner at your house tomorrow so the whole family can finally see it. 

Since the discovery of Bucky’s bones and the literal skeleton in the house's closet, you’ve kept family members away from you both for a while. It was a long adjustment period, getting used to the truth and each other. Accepting the fact that James was gone for good wasn’t as hard a pill to swallow as it should have been.  

You have a theory that you both were meant to be with each other, either in the forties or today. Something got messed up in the universe’s timeline and instead, you got James and he got Bette. This paranormal experience must have just been fate’s way of cleaning up what it had ruined so horribly. 

You look up at Bucky, the way his eyes crinkle even when he’s not smiling, and feel something warm spreading through your chest. You don't mind the cold fingers and chilling touch at night when it’s him you’re sharing it with. 

You place the turkey down in front of Bucky and he sends you a blissful smile. You can’t help but lean over the back of his chair and plant a loud kiss on his cheek. Janey gags, tossing a roll at her older brother. “Quit it, would you, I’d like to have an appetite.”

You chuckle, taking your seat beside him. Bucky can’t help but want to cry. This is what he’s wanted for so long. His family back, the woman he loves to love him back. It’s what he begged for. The loss of it all had turned him into this bitter, malevolent spirit. 

As much as he’d like to say he regrets or feels guilt for what he did to Bette, Steve, Martha, and James, he can’t. He tormented Steve until he died of a terror-induced heart attack at fifty. He’d driven poor Bette into the nursing home where her children would let her rot for the rest of her miserable life. Martha won’t be heard from again. 

And James, poor James. He must have had the worst fate of them all. It’s been a while since he’s heard anything from James. He searches for him now, his tiny presence lingering somewhere in the back of his mind. 

Bucky takes your hand, looks at his sisters and mother, and smiles at them. He raises his glass for a toast, slapping at James until he’s forced out of his slumber. Look, he thinks, speaking of all he’s grateful for to you and the other women. They know, he feels James looking through his eyes. 

He sees the way his family smiles at Bucky, and how much happier they look with him. They know, he tells James, they know I’m not you. James pounds futilely against Bucky’s walls. He screams and sobs, begging for you to help him. 

They don’t want you, James. They know that the world is better without you. He lets James linger in his misery, he savors his despair, lets it energize him, and then tosses him back to the abyss. James goes quietly, he gave up fighting a while ago. 

It wouldn’t matter anyway. His brief period of rebellion has fed Bucky enough to keep him subdued for the rest of his life. You squeeze his hand, “I love you,” you whisper, passing him the sweet potatoes. 

He smiles back at you and repeats the same words he’s already said a hundred times to you. This is at it always should have been. Steve, Bette, and James were all stepping stones to get him to you. He wasn’t going to let you go now. 

end. — I do not own the characters or the comics/movies Marvel (Winter Soldier), but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

fantasizing about a fictional guy who would probably be a horrible boyfriend but being delusional and thinking he’d have a soft spot for me

40s bucky headcanons (lwky kinda suggestive)

40s!bucky who begs for you too send spicy polaroids with your mail when he’s away

40s!bucky who obviously sends ones of him back

40s!bucky who in his time in london got ridiculed for being so protective of his letters

40s!bucky who the second steve snatched one away from him and ripped it he yelled

40s!bucky who carefully went through photo surgery with tape

40s!bucky whose mail got lost and opened and then reported

40s!bucky who got called into his base commander’s office for outer personal misconduct

40s!bucky who could care less

I DONT ALLOW MY WORK TO BE TRANSLATED REPOSTED OR PLAGIARIZED WITHOUT CREDIT OR PERMISSION