Stop Swearing In Front Of The Kids.

“Stop swearing in front of the kids.”

“Life itself is the most wonderful fairy tale.” –Hans Christian Andersen

The one that got away

You can never kill me.

Mmmkay, i would love to see your vision about a domestic bucky. If he moves close to the Wilson's, and starts to meet someone? He is insecure but want to try feeling something new. Maybe he could walk at night because he just woke up after a nightmare and then meet that person, i don't know.

Hope you feeling better today ❤️

Smile Again

Summary: Having recently moved down to Louisiana, Bucky struggled a bit in the relationship department. It’s not until he met a firecracker of a girl one night that he sees change and trusting yourself can be quit rewarding.

Pairings: domestic!bucky barnes x female!reader

Warnings: some angst, a lot of fluff, and minor swearing

Word Count: 4.2k

~

Bucky shot up from the floor, cold sweat clinging to his forehead, heart pounding inside his ribcage. The nightmares didn’t haunt him like they used to, but when they inevitably returned, they always came with an ugly vengeance. His palms groped around the cool wooden floor, regaining his sense of reality. He had to just assure himself that he was really awake, that this was real.

To his relief, the ringing in his ears subsided and the graphic images faltered. He peered around at the unfamiliar walls, taking in the dark scene of his new living room. A measly coffee table here, a couple of unpacked boxes pushed to the corner there. To Sam’s delight, Bucky packed what little he owned into dusty cardboard boxes and moved down to Louisiana. The thick rain was more than he was accustomed to and he occasionally missed the low humdrum of the city, but it was much more peaceful here. Most nights, anyways.

I deserve this.

The three word phrase echoed through his mind, a monotone mantra to recite in especially trying moments. Sometimes he thought it was useless trying to convince himself. Other nights Bucky was more forgiving. Healing was a tricky thing, it wasn’t a neat linear line or a simple five stages to move through. For Bucky, it was finally acknowledging wounds that had long run dry and patching up what he could. It was letting people in. But damnit was that hard.

Slowly rising, he padded over to his dusty window to study the misty night sky. Even through the foggy glass he could see the moon peeking out from behind the clouds and silhouettes of the trees. Just by looking outside he could see how thick the air was with humidity.

There’s no point in going back to bed now, anyways.

Bucky decided the best course of action would be to go out on a walk, not particularly caring where to. He really did enjoy his new home despite its modest size and rundown disposition, but he needed to get out. If it were up to him, he’d take a break from existing as himself, but escaping the house was the next best thing.

It was late and he decided he would throw on a thin long sleeve shirt. His heated temperature would argue with such an action, but he was still new to town and wasn’t crazy about showing off his arm. He walked aimlessly, following the streetlights to whatever part of town they would take him. His wandering session had brought him to where all the local bars resided, lightly buzzing with music and chatter that could be heard from outside. He spotted a quiet little bench under a street lamp and decided to take residence there for the time being.

Sighing, he sat down and leaned his head back, taking in the muffled sounds of the bars and people inside them nearby.

“That seat taken?”

Bucky’s body slightly jostled awake. He wasn’t asleep, but he was comfortable enough to start drifting off. He turned his attention to the voice. In the yellow light he could make out a figure of a woman standing in front of him, expectantly waiting for an answer.

“No, you’re fine.” He shifted his body to make more room on the small bench. He didn’t plan on staying for much longer anyways. You sat next to him and his nose was immediately hit with a smell of vanilla perfume.

“You don’t look familiar. You new?” You popped a piece of bubblegum into your mouth. As you spoke, he got a soft scent of alcohol and sugar radiating off of you into his nose. It fluttered around him, enveloping him in the smell of sweets and drinks. To his surprise, it was oddly comforting.

“I just moved down here.”

“You’re sober.”

“Yeah,” he responded, confused by the statement.

“You okay?” you gawked, giving him a concerned look.

“I wasn’t in the mood for a drink.”

“No one comes down to a street of bars at 1 in the morning, doesn’t drink, and is doing alright,” you explained to him. “What’s on your mind?”

Bucky was a bit surprised at how bold you were, just asking a random man his problems. It didn’t change your night, why should you care? It was unexpected, but charming to say the least. It was clear that you were tipsy, but your tone still commanded intent and was laced with sympathy.

“Just a bad dream.”

“Must be some intense dreams you got to come all the way out here,” you replied, blowing a quick bubble with your gum before popping it.

“Something like that.”

You looked at him, waiting for something more. Try as he might, it was hard to ignore your gaze. It begged for more answers and he hated the thought of leaving you unsatisfied.

“I’ve let a lot of people down. That’s all.”

He felt silly confessing to you. You were drunk, and probably didn’t actually care to know. The worst part was that he actually liked telling you, even if in vague terms. It was nice to just talk, even if it was just to a drunk girl he just met.

“You haven’t let me down.”

“You don’t know me,” he stated dryly.

You crossed your legs and propped your head into your hands. Staring out into the nightlife of Louisiana you pondered something for a while. Now what’s going on in that head of yours Bucky wondered, studying how your face contorted and shifted as you thought.

“I know you walk to bars to not get drunk when you’re sad. How many other people know that?” you asked after two minutes of quiet thinking.

Bucky continued to admire you for a second longer, trying to figure out a response. It was correct technically, no one else knew that he was here, but still, you didn’t know him. Not in a way that mattered, not really.

“I don’t know you.”

“Y/N. Call me Y/N.” You stuck out your hand proudly and offered him a toothy grin. Laughing slightly at the overly formal gesture, he shook your hand and responded with his own name.

“See, we’re not strangers now.”

“I guess we’re not, Y/N.”

It was embarrassing to admit, but this was probably the most fun Bucky had had since he moved down there. There were the Wilsons of course, but they had family, they had other life problems. It was great to see them, but it was never for too long.

Bucky saw a light flicker in your eyes as he thought quietly. You went to dig through your bag and pull out a pen, missing its cap. Without question, you took his arm and started to scribble down your number.

“Next time you’re sad, call me instead of coming here. I’m much better company,” you winked.

Before Bucky can go to say anything else, a taxi pulled up to where you two sat.

“That’s my ride. Bye, Bucky,” you waved, giving him one last smile for the night before getting situated in the car.

He didn’t know if it was the alcohol messing with your speech, but the way you sang his name made his heart dance inside his chest. You closed the door as he let out a feeble goodbye, head reeling from the pretty girl he just met.

-

Bucky woke up the next morning and stared at his ceiling for a bit. His mind was still buzzing with the thought of the stranger from the previous night. The soft linger of her perfume, the firm grasp she held around his hand. He couldn’t wave that inviting smile out of his thoughts, but he was sure you didn’t even remember his face. Getting up, he grabbed a piece of pen and paper to scribble down your number before he took a shower.

As the cool water ran against his body, he watched the traces of black ink wash down the drain. He debated calling you the entire time he washed his body, going back and forth between absolutely yes and definitely not. Technically, he got your number on the condition that he’d only call when he was sad, but he didn’t want you to view him as only that; helpless and alone.

“Hello?”

Bucky didn’t think that you’d actually pick up. Hell, he wasn’t even sure if you gave him your actual phone number. He didn’t understand why he called, why he had to do it so soon. Alas, he worked up the nerve to punch in the digits and there you were.

“Uh- hi, it’s Bucky, the guy-”

“Well I’ll be damned, how’ve you been? You get any sleep last night?” You talked to him like you had been friends for years, casually catching up with each other. Your voice rang with excitement and true curiosity as you asked. It didn’t bother him that you interrupted, it just meant you were eager to talk.

“Yeah, yeah, I did. I just wanted to say thank you.”

“Oh, no problem. I wasn’t going to let the cute guy on the bench suffer alone,” you teased. He could hear the smirk in your voice. He felt his face grow a little warm. He cleared his throat in a fruitless attempt to regain his composure before continuing.

“Oh- uh- thank you,” he blubbered out, shy at the sudden flirtatious advance. In the background, he could hear bustling and movement from your end of the line.

“Is now a bad time?”

“I’m on lunch break. I work at Stella’s, but my shift ends at 5. You can pick me up for dinner then.”

“Oh, that’s- wait what?”

“See you then!” Bucky thought he was going to lose it, he could still hear you grinning ear to ear as you clicked the phone to end the call.

Under normal circumstances, his hands would have gone clammy and he would have gone into panic mode. But, not today. A modest smile sat upon his face as he thought about the prospect of a date. By no means was this what he expected, but he was more than happy to get to talk to someone, someone who really wanted to listen.

I deserve this.

-

Bucky’s mind buzzed as he waited in his car at Stella’s parking lot. You had fifteen more minutes until your shift ended, but he wanted to make sure he was on time. He bounced his leg in anticipation, nervously glancing at the bouquet of flowers he bought for the occasion.

Is this too much? Too old fashioned? Maybe it’s a bit corny. What if she’s allergic to flowers? What if she-

He was jostled out of his aimless thinking by a tapping sound coming from his window. He looked over to see your face, eyes bright with wonder and the same toothy smile that lingered in his memory from the other night. He rolled down his window in response to your knocking.

“Hey, cutie.”

“Hi, Y/N. You’re done early.”

“Slow day,” you explained before making your way to the other side of the car and casually hopping into the passenger side. “Where are we going, Buck?”

He almost went to correct you, to tell you that Buck was reserved for very special persons, but as he looked over, he couldn’t muster the strength. The syllable clicked off your tongue so soothingly, like honey dripping down the side of a tree. It was almost like you were eager to say his name, to feel the way it vibrated in your mouth. He decided he’d let you call him Buck.

Your hair was a bit messy from work, but you managed to find the time to swap your diner uniform for a much more comfortable sundress. It clung to your body in all the right areas and flowed in the most elegant manner.

“Are you always this upfront?” he inquired, still adjusting to your boldness.

Bucky swallowed shyly as you crossed your legs, exposing more of your thigh. They looked smooth, glowing from the heat. You rolled down the window on your side to allow some air into the stuffy car, fanning yourself. Bucky forcefully kept his eyes from your cleavage, only slightly exposed, but still a view to admire. He felt a little guilty thinking about you like that. He didn’t mean to be perverse, he just wanted to know what you were like in your most honest form. What it would be like to trace the lines on your body, to slip that pretty little dress off you and-

“Are you always this nervous around women?” you bluntly asked, noticing his admiring gaze that travelled your body.

“Sorry,” he apologized, looking away, “I haven’t been on a date in a while.” Clearing his throat, he handed you the bundle of flowers situated in his lap. You took it in your hands and gave it a quick sniff. It was a simple bouquet, but sweet nonetheless.

“Who said this was a date?”

He felt his mouth go dry. “Oh, sorry, I just-”

“I’m teasing you,” you giggled. “Start driving, loverboy.” You thought it was cute how easily flustered you made him. Sure, he wasn’t a very expressive man, usually wearing a stoic expression, offering only a slight shift in his facial expressions, but you knew how to rile him up. You were having fun, to say the least.

He let out a small relieved laugh before starting the car back up. He liked the way you joked with him like you were childhood bestfriends. You weren’t two strangers, you were two normal people on a date.

“Can I be honest.”

“I’m all ears.”

“I have no idea where to go, I’m still pretty new here,” he confessed.

“Hmm, I have an idea. You’re going to take a left up here.”

The rest of the ride he followed your instructions without much question. He didn’t know where you were taking him, he just knew he was more than happy to follow. You decided to direct him to the scenic route to your mystery destination. Along the way you pointed out where you scraped your knee while learning to ride a bike. The park where you had your first kiss. The now abandoned coffee place where you had your first break up.

You were an open book to Bucky, indulging him into the crevices of your life. He’d never met someone so telling, so honest in his life. He knew so much about you while still understanding so little. He wondered, maybe did you fall from the sky, or spring from the Earth? Or maybe you were just a person who happened to be special and he was a man lucky to accidentally cross paths with you.

“I’ve been talking this whole ride, tell me about yourself. What’s your deal?”

“I don’t have a deal,” he answered coolly.

“No family? No friends? Do you sit and stare at the wall all day?”

“Pretty much.”

“You’re lucky you’re cute, Buck, because you sure are boring as hell,” you coyly mock. He smiled in spite of himself.

“Well,” he trailed off. He wanted you to know him, he wanted to talk to a person who seemed interested in him. Not the Winter Soldier, not Captain America’s best friend, but James Buchanan Barnes. He hadn’t said anything untrue to you, but he felt like hiding himself was like lying to you and that was the last thing he wanted to do.

“I have a little sister.” You waited for him to further continue, sticking your hand out the window to feel the breeze between the fingers as he drove. “Rebecca. She’s a sweet kid.”

You realized that was as much as he would indulge you for the moment. “That’s a pretty name.” He could hear you smiling once again. He admired that quirk of yours.

“I moved down here about two weeks ago. I’m friends with the Wilson’s. They’re good people.”

“Ain’t it a small world, I used to babysit for Sarah. I’ve been friends with them ever since. You do anything for work?” you asked, now playing with the petals of the bouquet in your hand.

“I’m a mechanic.” That wasn’t false, so he didn’t mind telling you. He decided to take up work at a local car shop. It didn’t pay much, but it was honest work and his boss mostly let him do his own thing.

“Is that where you got the fancy metal arm from?” Your eyes trace over the gold detailing of his appendage as he used it to grip the steering wheel.

Bucky’s eyes widened. With the heat of Louisiana combined with recent stress, he’d forgotten to wear something that would cover up his metal arm when leaving the house. He quickly shot his eyes to see it gleaming in the sunlight before refocusing on the road.

“Oh, this old thing. You like it?” There was no use in denying it, so he thought he should try to play it off. His face remained nonchalant but panic began to settle in his stomach. She thinks I’m a freak. She thinks it’s weird. Fuck.

“I think it looks handsome on you.”

Bucky could feel his weariness begin to melt away and warmth take its place. It was silly, but he felt like a schoolboy all over again. You were wonder, everything that he wasn’t, everything that he used to be; open, outgoing, and trusting.

“You’re more interesting than you lead on, Bucky. Turn into the next driveway.”

Following your instructions he pulled into a driveway of gravel road. A cute little house appeared, the next one not for another mile. The garden situated in the front was decorated with flowers and fauna of all sorts.

“Is this your house?” he asked, knowing the answer.

“She needs a new coat of paint, but she’s all mine.”

“You don’t know me. Why are you letting me in your house?”

“You’re a friend of the Wilson’s, that’s enough to trust you.”

“You’re insane.”

“And yet you’re still here, Buck. C’mon,” you beckoned him out of the car. For a moment, he stood to admire the view of your house before you took a hold of his hand to pull him along inside. Your skin was soft and warm against his, just like he remembered it from the other night. You arrived at your porch and began to take out your keys.

What am I doing here?

It was a wondrous feeling to be carried along by you, but he couldn’t keep playing pretend. You were too loving to have to deal with his mess. He’d eventually tell you who he was and he’d understood you’d want to run, to never see him again. It was fun while it lasted, but reality settled in at one point or another.

“I think I should go,” he said flatly.

“But we just got here,” you frowned, turning around from the door to face him. “We were going to make some of my homemade bread.”

“You’re very sweet and you’re really pretty, but I come with a lot of baggage.”

“Who said I don’t?”

“It’s-,” he sighed. He wanted to explain everything, to make it make sense. But words were his weakness and he would hate to sadden those curious pair of eyes in front of him. He could tell you the whole truth and you’d be mortified or he could lie and live with the guilt of deceiving you. “It’s complicated.”

You looked down dejectedly at your bouquet, brushing your thumb mindlessly against the stem of the flowers. “Bucky, I know,” you mumbled.

“I don’t think you do.”

“At first I thought it was a coincidence. When I first saw you, I thought your face looked a bit old-fashioned kind of handsome, but some people are like that. I questioned it more when I noticed the metal arm, but some people have prosthetics.”

It was coming. He could feel the rejection about to roll off your tongue. You knew about his past and all the nasty things that came with it. Monster. Liar. Why didn’t you tell me? Why did you lead me on? Don’t talk to me. Please leave, I’m scared. His heart sunk to the pit of his stomach as he awaited for you to finish the final blow.

“Then you said you were friends with the Wilson’s and I knew. You’re Sergeant James ‘Bucky’ Barnes. I know I’m not much like the woman of the 40s and I’m just a small town girl and you’re a hero-”

“You think I’m a hero?” Out of all the endings to this conversation that was not the one he was prepared for. Him? A hero? He never thought of himself that way and he couldn’t even fathom someone thinking that about him.

“I’m friends with the Wilson’s, Sam’s told me a lot about you. You’ve saved so many lives, you’ve lived such a fascinating life. Hell, I wouldn’t have summoned the courage to walk up to you if I knew you were some big shot,” you laughed lightly. It was strange to be talking to a piece of history, a man you’ve heard so much about but never seen in the flesh. “But, in the short time I’ve known you, you seem like a real sweet guy. Who the hell even brings flowers to dates anymore? That’s adorable.”

This was a lot of new information to process at once for the both of you. Bucky now knew you knew. You had only realized who he was ten minutes ago. It was a lot to say the least. By this time, he would have expected to have been driving home after a well earned scolding. What the hell was happening? And more importantly, was that all you knew.

“Then you know about the Winter Soldier?” He held his breath awaiting your response.

You replied with a silent nod, looking up from your collection of flowers and into his troubled blue eyes. You’d never felt so small than in that moment. You wouldn’t have dragged him around town if you would’ve known who he was. Who were you? Just some small town girl pestering the life out of this poor man who was too nice to say no. You were way in over your head, you knew it once you realized, but he was just too endearing to let slip away.

Bucky clung onto every word you’d spoken, he seemed to listen to every sound you made intently. He genuinely cared about what you had to say. Sure, he had his walls up, but he was gentle underneath. The way his face softened when he spoke of his sister and the Wilson’s was enough to make a frozen heart thaw.

“And that doesn’t bother you?” His voice was even, but his thoughts were scrambling all over the place.

“I just invited you into my house as a single woman who lives in bumble-fuck nowhere, so I’d say no, it doesn’t bother me. You’re Bucky, not him.”

He let out a small laugh, relief entering his body.

“If you’re still up for it, I have lemonade inside too,” you offered quietly, a hopeful smile on your face.

It’d be a lot easier to say no, to go back home. It’d be a lot less risky to just turn around and forget the past few hours. But it’d be so much more lonely. He could return to the cold floor of his house and spend many more restless nights in his lonesome.

Or, he could try something new. Something that was tender and wore vanilla perfume. Something that spoke fervently and had every type of flower springing out of her front yard. Someone with warm hands and the prettiest smile he’d ever had the pleasure of seeing.

I deserve this.

“That sounds nice,” he smiled shyly.

“Good,” you grinned back. You pushed open your door and took him by the hand to lead him into the house.

Bucky was an awful baker, but he had the spirit. Flour would always end up more on his clothing than into the pan. He seemed to knead the dough as if he were attacking it and he didn’t really understand what yeast was. But he was the perfect baking partner. He’d see you work and would nod intently with deep focus as you mixed together the ingredients. He was eager to make the lemonade (by making that meant him cutting the lemons and measuring the amount of sugar needed with his heart) and was the perfect taste tester.

“This is the best bread I’ve ever tasted. You’ve really outdone yourself with this one, Buck.”

“You’re just saying that.”

“Maybe.” You couldn’t hold back your smile. Through the many trials and tribulations, you managed to make some alright food. The bread was mediocre at best, but you had never had so much fun making it.

Liking you came so easy to Bucky. He liked the way you lilted his name and how gentle your eyes were. He’d only known you for less than 24 hours, but already felt like he was safe with you. For the rest of the date, he couldn’t shake that warm feeling that gathered inside his chest every time you smiled at him.

Maybe this wasn’t how he imagined his relationship would start, but he wouldn’t have had it any other way.

~

AN: Thank you so much to anon for the submission omg I love when I get requests. I hope this lives up to your expectations <3. I got a LOT of domestic!bucky requests so be ready for more of those. Thank you for reading and have a lovely day

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Right, you’ve got two choices, Michael: you fuck off to America with Arthur, join the Apaches, or you marry the girl.