Summary: In where Bucky finds himself entirely flustered when you call him a term of endearment he has never been called before. Based on B-A-B-Y by Carla Thomas.
Warning(s): literally all the fluff, domestic!fluff, Bucky being a sweetheart!
A/N: I felt bad for not having uploaded in a few days, and that I wouldn’t be able to upload the next chapter of Most Wanted today, so I found this oneshot in my WIP’s and finished it for you guys! Hope you enjoy this fluffy piece! also, yes I know I always use gifs from this interview, but can you blame me?
There had been a time where opening the front door to your apartment meant being greeted by an almost perpetual silence.
It meant hearing the echo of the door shutting long after you had entered and settled into the living room after a day of work and stared at the television for hours.
But those days were long gone, and with each step you took, you picked up the pace to reach home faster. The inevitable smile crept to your lips, and you had to suppress a giggle as your thoughts circled to what would be waiting for you at home.
Bucky, really, was the physical embodiment of hesitancy most days – and you couldn’t blame him. He had, after all, survived a great deal of trauma in his century-long life. He was coming into himself, finding his footing, finding out who he really was. Not Bucky, not James. Just… himself.
Touching was a luxury most people didn’t realize they possessed until it was stripped away from them. Adversely, Bucky hadn’t realized what a luxury it truly was until he was so suddenly allowed it. Physical contact with him – the asset, the killer, the Winter Soldier – was prohibited and advised strongly against under H.Y.D.R.A’s stifling boot. He was a dog on choke-chain back then, lashing out when someone neared. He knew nothing but pain and fear back then.
They muzzled him for a reason.
You’re a touchy person and at first, Bucky hates you. He hates how you smile and touch his arm like the hand attached hasn’t snapped the necks of men three times your size. He hates how you say his name and ask him how he is. He’s horrible, ruined with nightmares, but you don’t need to hear it to know. You treat him like he isn’t fragile, you treat him without that pitiful look Nat is always serving him.
You’re just… you.
He thinks it’s sinful that you’re just naturally so nice. And he doesn’t trust you.
But, one day, you realize that touch isn’t well received. He was trying to decide what to eat. He was focused – hyper focused, really, on the pickles in the back of the fridge – because decisions are hard when you’ve been tube-fed slop for forty years by men in lab coats.
He doesn’t hear you, and his entire body recoils in a terrible flinch and you stammer out a wide-eyed apology for scaring him, and Bucky snaps the handle off the fridge in the lounge at the words.
Somehow, though, you’d coaxed him back to your hands with reassurance and maybe one too many late-night television binges. He learns you’re not bad, you don’t have a motive. He slowly begins to trust you – and before you even know it, the super-soldier is no longer some scarred fight-dog with barred teeth. Instead, he’s a lap dog. He follows you, chatters to you, laughs with you.
You’re the first person, aside from Steve and Sam, he calls a friend in the Avengers compound.
(Yeah, listen, he’s aware Steve sneaks him looks when you guys sit close on the couch. He’s aware you’re pretty and smell like lilacs and you make him happy. He’s aware, okay? Fuckin’ punk thinks he’s smooth, telling Buck to ask you out. Bucky doesn’t do that, not anymore. Romance is dead.)
But, you don’t mind.
“Your hair is getting long.”
Bucky blinks. “Is that bad?”
“You kinda look like Jesus,” you say, tilting your head and looking at him in the glow of the television. His features look softer, “Which isn’t a bad thing. Jesus was a good guy.”
“You’ve met him?”
It cracks a smile out of you and Bucky feels a little proud.
You hesitantly reach, fingers curling into his hair to sweep is back off his neck. Bucky swallows, jaw clenching at the sudden contact, but within the beat of a moment he’s remembering it’s you, not some slack-jawed fuck trying to strap his head down for a memory wipe.
“Sorry.”
“You say that too much.”
“I touch too much,” you say, frowning, “I know you’re not a fan. I’m sorry. I gotta… get better about it.”
“I don’t mind it,” he says slowly, “Just gotta remind myself, y’know?”
You don’t need him to explain.
A nod. And you wring your fingers. And Bucky isn’t satisfied with that reaction. So, he snags your hand and unceremoniously dumps it atop his head. And you blink at him.
“You can touch my hair. S’ just hair.”
“It’s nice hair,” you say, “Nicer than mine.”
“Not true.”
“Do you use L’oreal?”
Bucky cracks a smile at that, and you curl your fingers into the thick brunette waves. He leans back into the couch cushions, legs spread. He has a bad habit of taking up space. You don’t mind, though, because you’re crisscross applesauce and nearly in his lap.
“Feels good,” he finally says after a few minutes of you casually un-knotting the unkempt mess. The snarls are nothing, really, and he smells a little bit like Steve. You wonder if he’s borrowing his hair product. The two are nearly joined at the hip. It wouldn’t surprise you.
“If it’s annoying, you can tell me to stop.”
“Don’t. I like how it feels.”
You grin at that, and enjoy the lack of hesitancy in this small moment of intimacy.
Bucky would protect Peter so goddamn fast i swear on my life
Sergeant James Barnes of the 107 is noted as a hero in his history book (because that shit gets updated and in the mcu, Brooklyn’s heroes are definitely in there) and Bucky is completely unaware. Peter is also unaware of the fact that the Winter Soldier, whom he fought in Germany, and Bucky Barnes are the same person. So when Peter wakes up in the Soul World, all alone, and sees this big guy, it takes him a minute.
“I know you. From Germany, right?” He says hesitantly as he approaches Bucky, who is sitting with Sam, who nods at Bucky and wanders off to console people. People just keep appearing, and it feels nice to Peter to see a familiar face, even if last time they were on opposite sides of a fight. “You were with C-Captain America.”
“Yeah,” Bucky sighs, wounds still fresh from losing Steve again. Because not only did Steve loose Bucky, but Bucky lost Steve, that stupid punk from Brooklyn he swore to protect. The one he told to not do anything stupid, and then he did a bunch of stupid stuff. The one who fought for him every day, who helped save him. And Bucky lost him all over again.
He shakes his head, running a hand through his hair before extending it towards the kid. “The name’s Bucky.”
Peter looks confused, and blinks. “Bucky?”
Bucky isn’t sure what to make of the kid’s confusion. “Well, my name is James but I go by Bucky.”
And then as this scrawny kid from Queens takes in the massive man in front of him, the hair and the eyes and the jawline, and it clicks into place. The history lessons start coming back to him, and he remembers the faded picture of the man smiling with Captain America and the description below it: James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes of the 107 and Captain America, 1941.
He gulps, swallowing back a surprised gasp, quickly taking Bucky’s hand and shaking it. “I-It’s an honor to m-met you, sir. My name’s Peter Parker, I’m from Queens.”
Bucky smirks, just a little, and lets go, his hand falling to his side. “Yeah, I know. You’re the kid that works with Stark. Steve told me about you.”
Peter’s eyebrows shoot up to his forehead. “C-Captain America talked about me? To you?” He looks flustered and he starts playing with his hands. He looks down at their feet and the orange nothing surrounding them. “I’ve learned so much about you.”
“Relax kid, nothing bad. Said you were really smart.” The kid looks so tiny, so young, it reminds him of a small blond friend who just had to do the right thing all the damn time. He swallows the lump in his throat. He doesn’t need this kid to be scared, much less, scared of him.
Peter looks up, almost bashful. “That’s awesome.” It makes the both of them laugh, and then it goes quiet again, save for the distant cries of the newly appearing civilians. “I just–I can’t believe I’m meeting you,” he murmurs, and Bucky does his best to keep his face neutral. He doesn’t need to be reminded of his past, of the awful things he did as the Soldier. He opens his mouth when Peter beats him to it.
“You’re my hero, sir.”
It stuns Bucky, makes his heart skip a beat. He blinks once, brows furrowed. “What?”
Peter nods vigorously, a small smile on his face. “You’re my hero,” he repeats firmer, and Bucky’s heart feels a little lighter at it. “You were the top of your class in school, the best sniper in the army, and the coolest Howling Commando. I wrote a paper on you and everything.” He’s gushing and his hands are everywhere in front of him, cheeks red as he continues blabbering and “god you’re into science and art”, and in that moment it feels like Bucky’s heart is in his throat, so big and warm it’s threatening to break through his bones.
He shakes his head, a small but genuine smile gracing his lips as he swings his flesh arm around Peter’s shoulders and tugs him forward, a hint of nostalgia touching his heart as they walk. “Come on, kid, let’s go find the others.”
Bucky promises to himself to protect this kid with his life, this small, golden-hearted boy from Queens, who reminds him of his own (previously) small, golden-heart friend from Brooklyn.
when peter studied the second world war at school he thought sergeant james buchanan barnes was the coolest person ever and so when they assigned him to write an essay on his favorite howling commando and war hero he chose him, and you can take that headcanon from my cold dead hands
peter meets bucky in the soul realm and tells him how much he admires him and bucky’s heart has never felt lighter
I have one about Bucky just loving sunflowers a lot because they’re bright and cheerful and his favourite colour is yellow but also because they’re strong and tough and help clean up radiation and he loves that they’re pretty /and/ practical. He also loves that something can be strong and secretly hardcore without having to /look/ like they are.
He also used to love joking around and telling Steve he was shorter than a plant (Steve would point out that “EVERYONE is, jerk, because trees are plants too!”) and he just really loves all the memories sunflowers triggered for him because unlike other things he used to live like model trains or soccer balls there’s absolutely no bad memories attached to sunflowers.
I also headcanon that wherever he lives is just full of them constantly and he starts a little sunflower garden as part of his therapy and maybe Tony subtlely helps fund botanical research projects involving plants that will grow in the absolute worst conditions so Bucky can still have his sunflowers year round.
[Trigger warning: implied self harm/suical thoughts/tendencies] Another like crack-ish headcanon is that Bucky gets a sunflower tattooed across his good wrist both because it makes him happy and so he has something to preserve so he won’t ever end it all (no this is not at all based on MY sunflower tat on my right wrist at all what are you talking about??)
One day, years in the future when Bucky is stable and officially an Avenger and this whole mess with Thanos is over, some civilian will see Bucky’s tattoo and this kicks off a whole movement of people sending him pictures/drawings/paintings they’ve done of sunflowers or Bucky with sunflowers and he keeps every single one of them.
Together Bucky and Tony start a mental health advocacy program called Seeds of Change or something and their logo is a sunflower that Bucky drew (Steve’s been teaching him).
Shuri makes him a new arm and takes his old one and takes it apart completely and makes it a flower bed so that Bucky can have at least one happy thing attached to it.
idk man I have a LOT about Bucky + sunflowers
If anyone wants to draw or write about any of these tag me please I would love love LOVE to see it!!
In which Y/N gets captured to be the Winter Soldiers pet
Warnings: kidnapping, torture, swearing, angst and fluff
words: 4.5K
He had noticed her in the 60’s the first time. She had been at the Kennedy parade, smiling and squaring with excitement as JFK, and his wife Jackie rode by, waving and smiling. Her hair was in a tight, and high ponytail, slicked back and long as was the style of the time, and the jewel she wore in it glinted in his eye as his sniper rifle passed over her. He had seen the way her face crumpled into a horrified scream as he hit his mark expertly, and he had seen the way she looked so pretty as she cried into her friend’s shoulders, mascara dripping down her face, marking it with her grief. His caretaker at the time noticed his gaze, and muttering quickly in Russian, hit the comm on his ear and proposed a plan to his superiors without the Assets knowledge.
The Asset hadn’t known how they got the right woman, or why she was here, but he assumed that it was a simple way to keep him coming back to base— a reason not to run. If he ran, she would never be able to again.
He saw her the second time huddled in the corner of his room, the green-tinted fluorescent lights making every blemish and blotch on her skin horribly apparent. Her dress, similar to the some he had seen her in the other day, was torn and dirt stained. Her fingertips were bleeding, and her nails were torn and despite not even being in the same vicinity as her for more than five seconds, found his chest swelling with pride at her will to fight. Her eyes grew wide in fear as she noticed him— his hulking stature and muzzle and shaggy hair that was a little too heavy with grease— and immediately, he tried to make himself smaller. He fell to one knee and slouched his back and held out two hands in surrender— a sign of submission he had learned when the torture his caretakers went too far. Her fear lessened somewhat, but she refused to leave the corner of the room for the next few days— going so far as to sleep and defecating in that spot. Her fear paralyzed her, and Bucky woke every day on his too-springy mattress and hoped to find her clean and in a chair or something other than that horrid corner.
They took her for the first time that day, and he cursed his hearing abilities, for he could hear her screaming in pain— from what, he never wanted to know.
He found out eventually, as they shoved her back in wearing what looked like cheap underwear and a cargo shirt he wore under his uniform. Her skin looked like it had been pressure washed, and from the small dots hidden in the crook of her arm, he hoped they had taken blood from her rather than injected her with something.
“что они сделали с тобой, милая?” (what have they done to you, sweet thing?). His voice was raspy as he neared her. His movements seemed to be too quick for her liking as she backed away and pressed herself to the bars of the door she was shoved through seconds before.
he likes to take you to some of his favorite places and sharing experiences with you, like little nooks in brooklyn that are still there
he also likes ordering/making food and staying in
bucky is a great cook and loves to cook for you
the face you make when you taste his food makes his heart swell so much
dates to all the museums: space, the planetarium, art museum, you name it y’all are there
you guys take a special day trip out to washington to see the Smithsonian’s as well
cuz bucky is a soft space boi
he always holds your hand and keeps you close to his side
always offers to pay for everything and its something you two childishly fight over
“buck it’s gum i can get it i promise”
“bucky you can’t pay for everything, i have a job i can pay for this”
he eventually lets you pay for some stuff and after you two discuss it like normal adults you realize you can share paying for each other
bucky loves having photos and photos of you together
he has a polaroid and loves snapping shots of you
they are tacked up on his wall like a cute lil collage along with others of steve and the team
loves to cuddle you omfg
you often have cuddle dates where you just lay together anywhere and cuddle and nap
is a whiny baby if he doesn’t get enough cuddles
“baby please, five more minutes”
“bucky you said that an hour ago”
“…ten more minutes”
“bUCKY”
loves seeing you in his sweaters and shirts. he absolutely melts at the sight of it
“god you’re so cutE”
showers you in all the love in the world because he never thought he deserved anything or was good enough for anything and now that he has you he doesn’t want to let you
“i’m never letting you go doll, i’m with you til the end of the line”
Toad's Cave 