Bucky Barnes X Gn Reader - Blog Posts

'' 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)

'' DANCING LIKE WE USED TO ,,

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

|| warnings: this might be ooc, im js getting back into marvel so yeah 🩵

|| word count: 0.5k

The past few days had been quiet. Bucky had just gotten home from a mission with Steve and Sam. As much as he denied it, it really seemed like he was becoming an Avenger. Again, he hated to admit it, but he acted a lot like a hero.

Though, you could go with a bit less worrying. Whenever he left to go for an operation, you were terrified if he would come back or not. You shouldn't be, though. He lived for you. He promised to be alive for you.

Currently, you were in the kitchen. Cutting up some veggies for the pasta you were cooking. Bucky offhandedly mentioned his love for pasta, so everytime he came back from a mission, you made pasta for him.

Footsteps could be heard from the hallway, and Bucky came into view. Wearing his usual black sweatpants and white t-shirt, his hair pulled back into a small ponytail. He'd been growing it out.

"Hey, babe, can you turn the heat of the stove lower?"

He hummed and did as you told before wrapping his arms around your waist. His metal arm was cold compared to his real arm. You didn't mind, but you favoured his real arm. For obvious reasons.

The super soldier pushed his face into the crook of your neck, taking a breath of your scent in as he spoke lowly. "What're you making this time?"

"Carbonara. You want something else?"

"No. I love whatever y'cook, doll."

Your heart fluttered at that, but you just shook your head and finished up chopping the veggies. Gingerly pushing it into the pot and turned to finally put all your attention to your partner.

"How was the mission?"

He grunted in response. A small smile spread across your face. That was better then if it went badly. When the operation went badly, he usually just groaned and paced around the living room.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, the two of you slowly swaying to "We'll Meet Again." When you cooked you loved putting music on. Especially old-timey music. It was so romantic and calming. Another plus was that Bucky knew all the words to the songs.

As the two of you swayed, he hummed quietly. Muttering the words, "we'll meet again, don't know where, don't now when.. But I know we'll meet 'gain some sunny day."

No one would have ever pegged him for a singer. But with you? He was comfortable doing almost anything. He loved humming along to the music he knew. And you loved listening to his usually gruff and cold voice be more soft. Quiet. Calm.

Bucky chuckled before spinning you in the spot, a small yelp leaving your lips and Bucky's smile widened. He got bolder with your moves. Dancing around the kitchen as if he was back in 1943, dancing away at some pub with someone he's going steady with.

He spun you, dipped you and by the end pressed you close to his chest. Placing a small kiss to your forehead as the two of you just stood there quietly.

"Mission must've went super well, huh?"

He snorted and shook his head. "Stop talkin' 'bout work"

"Why?" You teased and kissed his jaw softly. Running your fingers at the back of his head and scratching his scalp gently.

"'Cause I wanna enjoy my time with you."

"Who knew you were such a softie?"

He huffed and let out a small laugh "Oh, shut up and let's keep dancing."

And you did just that.

super short one shot, but i needed to write bout bucky <3

HEYYYYY.. so like ive become a recent angst addict and like. . Bucky x reader angst?? Maybe they're recently engaged and reader is unsure because of things like not being included in a lot of pivotal moments in his life and that he looks at natalia just a little too long for readers liking?? And just this big dialogue of them two arguing.. and NO comfort at the end, make that shit HURT. He's begging, sobbing and like hiccuping on his knees it's that bad, reader is crying too, but they hand bucky the ring

Man idk i just need more gut wrenching angst rn it evokes such a mmmmmm emotion

MARVEL RIVALS - Bucky's Relationship Troubles

NOTES

I'm literally awful at writing angst and relationships are hard to understand, especially when it comes to jealousy and all that, and I guess both Bucky and Reader are meant to be in the wrong for this one? I don't know, I find his character hard, so... (⁠・⁠_⁠・⁠;⁠)

Btw shameless plug for my DIVA who streams on Twitch link here

The moment that your heart felt so warm and happy tears fell from your eyes finds itself in your brain whenever you laid eyes on him, and it always used to beat so hard every morning after morning that it almost felt like a regular side effect of waking up. It doesn't feel like that anymore, no. But even then, the moment he knelt down on one knee and popped open that ring box replays in your mind every morning, every evening, every night. Ever since it happened, it's been all you could think about.

That's why it became so noticeable when those happy, excited feelings began to sour and churn inside of you, when that warmth burned into a deep, aching jealousy that consumed every single happy memory of yours together. Now, you can't feel happy when you look at him. Because you hardly ever look at him.

You understand he has duties, responsibilities, and he can't just drop them for you at a lazy request, but his actions don't exactly speak 'loyal future husband' to you. The constant missions, which you swear were never this bad, the fact he always spends his time around Natasha, his gaze warm and his tone friendly, it makes you so, so unnecessarily angry. Instead of fluttering butterflies in your stomach, all you find yourself feeling is a pain in your palm from clenching your fist too hard.

Far louder, far more aggressive even, than usual, you tap your foot against the ground. Sat on the couch, your shared couch, from your shared apartment, you feel like a stranger to Bucky. Because he, your soon to be husband, isn't home at the right time. Again.

The paranoia about what could even be happening drives you crazy, your eyes flicking between the clock on the wall, ticking, ticking, always ticking, and the door that never seems to open without your interference. It's never him coming home if you're not there to open the door for him first, only him leaving for days, weeks, months on end.

Doesn't the thought of leaving you eat him up inside of you, too? Doesn't the thought of you all alone make him want to take a damn break, for once? To just lay down, to feel your skin against his, however damn rough and weathered it may be. Or, are you the one in the wrong? The paranoid spouse? The jealous spouse? Overthinking every interaction with any friends he may have, overthinking every second he isn't in your arms?

Maybe you are.

But maybe Bucky isn't the one for you, not if the promise of commitment and marriage won't make him sit next to you for dinner for longer than a week at a time.

When you hear those heavy boots, that weathered sigh, you know that he's home. In a weird way, it makes you feel comfortable, it makes your body relax slightly, but your mind is still racing, even if that itch for him to be in your presence is satiated. Then comes the soft jingling of metal as he slides the apartment key in, turning it right and creaking the door open.

Bucky always looks slightly uncomfortable, and you suppose he has a reason to, even without the trauma of H.Y.D.R.A, he's grown older, he's been through more eras than any human should, and he'll always feel out of place. His shaggy hair falls in front of his face, his tired eyes downcast until they flick up, noticing you. For a moment, for a swift, fleeting moment, you think he looks almost happy.

"You're up late." Bucky comments lightly, his throat rasped as he turns his back to you to shut the door and lock it, pocketing the key afterwards.

"You're out late." You mutter, words almost somber, far meeker than you had meant for them to come out, hardly audible to you over the sound of your racing heartbeat. Is this the day you do it? The day you confront him? You shouldn't be so nervous then. You should be firm in your decision.

In response he lets out a heavy sigh, his back turned to you, his shoulders rising and falling. He knows where this is going. This conversation has happened before, after all. The late night arguments over Natasha, the glares when she calls to inform him of a mission, the unbridled fury you feel whenever she steps foot in your house, it's never been resolved. Only silenced.

"I was on a mission." Bucky says, looking back at you, the mask he wears hiding half of his face, but you know that he's frowning, the slight furrow in his brows gives that way. "I told you about it."

"You told me it would be quick." You firmly say, leaning back on the couch and crossing your arms. He was with Natasha. The beautiful, strong, intelligent woman who you can't help but envy. He was with her. Not you. All night.

"You can't plan these things." He snaps back, turning around fully and taking steps towards you, crossing his own arms. For a moment, you think he'll actually argue back, give a full defense, but instead his eyes soften and he motions towards your phone sat idly on the coffee table. "Are we getting takeout tonight?"

"Are you kidding?" You huff, a smile of disbelief growing on your lips, your nose scrunching as a snarl threatens to unveil itself. "You were out all night with her and you're asking about takeout?"

Immediately, Bucky gives you a look. It's not cold, it's not anger, no, it's more so just disappointment. The two of you have had conversations about this before, what couple hasn't? He spends time with a woman who has fiery red hair and a body to die for, what person wouldn't get jealous? Bucky's always assured you that him and Natasha have never and will never be together, that he doesn't love her, but you're having second thoughts.

"I thought we settled this..." He gruffly murmurs, his brows furrowing as his hand comes up to his nose, pinching the bridge.

"Well, clearly we didn't!" You rise from the couch, planting your feet into the hard wood of your apartment floor, your hands resting on your hips. "I've already had dinner, considering that it's almost one in the morning." Every word is accentuated, pointed, driving home your ever building fury, brows furrowed as your lips curl. It's not his fault, it's not his fault, you're sick of saying that to yourself. Bucky needs to hear what you have to say. "That nice chicken you like? I made it for you tonight, I thought we could've had a date, but instead you spent almost twice as long as you said you would."

Almost yelling now, your voice rising, your face veins burning, he still looks tired. He doesn't look guilty, he doesn't even look sorry. "It's in the microwave." You add, hoping to try and get him to just feel something, to say something.

"I'm sorry, I'm busy, I know. I'm not here as often as I'd- as you'd like, but you knew what you were getting into when we started this relationship. I told you-" Bucky begins, his arm falling to his side as his brown eyes flick up to meet yours, those soft, aching eyes you've always loved to stare into. Today, looking at his eyes just makes you feel sick. Every word, every excuse, it makes your head spin, your hands trembling.

"You didn't tell me you'd spend all day around her and leave me alone!" You blurt out loudly, your voice breaking from the sheer emotion. "You said you'd be busy with work, not with Natasha!"

Bucky's face twists slightly, taken aback at your accusation of cheating. Even if it's not outright, it's pretty obvious what your words mean, and he isn't angry, no, he seems almost like he pities you. The thought only enrages you more. "It's not like that, she's helped me through a lot-"

"And I haven't?" You hiss, his heavy boots thump against the floor as he takes a step closer to you.

"You're not even letting me speak." He sighs, holding out a hand, a peace offering, something you can choose to take.

You don't.

Instead, your own hand comes crashing down onto his, slapping it away.

"So speak. Defend yourself." You cross your arms, winding them tightly around your body as if a shield against anything he could say or do, any protests, any promises, any lies. They won't get to you. Not today. It only takes a moment for you to grow impatient. "Go on!"

Bucky closes his eyes for a moment, sucking in a deep breath before he even thinks of speaking, his voice quieter, more hushed. It's as if he's telling you a secret. "In this business, you don't know when your closest allies will die. It's best to either not get attached, or to make damn sure you spend as much time as possible with them. We're not together, we don't have feelings for one another, we never will. Natasha is an ally, a trusted one, but she'll never be you."

His words are almost enough to comfort you. Almost. Fury still burns bright, and you can't help but pick apart every single vowel that tumbles out of his mouth. "She'll never be me but you spend all of your time with her? None with me?" You scoff, shaking your head sharply. "Maybe you'd be better off with Natasha. She's clearly doing something I'm not to make you care about her."

Your words seem to ignite something in Bucky, his eyes sharpening slightly. "I do care about you". He firmly spits out, clenching his metal fist. "Don't try to say I haven't done everything I can for you."

"You evidently haven't!" You throw your hands up in the air exasperatedly, your breaths coming out in short huffs as you try to collect yourself. But, it's impossible when he's standing here, trying to act like he's completely innocent.

Confidence hits you like a semi-truck, and you find yourself finally putting your foot down. "You know what, I can't do this. Get out."

"Excuse me?" He grunts, taken aback.

"You heard me. This is my apartment, I just let you move in. You have the avengers, just go to them." Every word is said like a simple suggestion, almost like you're an amused colleague giving work advice, not a scorned spouse.

"No, you're not kicking me out just because you want to avoid-"

"Get out!" With a sudden burst of energy, you slam both hands forward, trying to push him out of your apartment. It doesn't get him far, and he primarily stumbles from the shock that you'd even push him in the first place, but he realises quickly that you're serious. Dead serious. "Just leave!" And to prove that you are, you do the unthinkable. Fingers grasping the wedding ring around your finger, you slip it off and throw it full force at his chest. It bounces pathetically to the floor.

Bucky seems to be frozen for a moment, his eyes desperate, then cold, then afraid, then angry, then... Hopeless. He seems stuck, alone, unsure, and it takes the clattering of metal for him to be thrust out of that state of mind. "You know what." He mutters, voice a low croak. "Fine." His own hand reaches for his keys, evidently not around the ring on his finger, and he turns around sharply, shoving the key in and twisting it with so much force that you're surprised it doesn't break in two. "I know where I'm not wanted." With one last thump of his boots, the keys land sharply on the ground and the door is slammed shut.