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summary › every other weekend, sam hosts a cookout at the docks. every other weekend, bucky pretends he isn’t looking for the same girl standing by the water at sunset.
pairing › bucky x female reader
content warnings › set during tfatws, soft/nervous bucky, (attempted) flirting, sam being a meddling cutie
word count › 1.4k
authors note › a little fluff for summer! if you guys couldnt tell tfatws bucky is my obsession. i love him and need him forever and ever.
Every other weekend in Delacroix, somebody lights a grill, drags coolers out onto the dock, and pretends life has always been this simple.
Sam calls them “casual little cookouts,” which is a lie considering there’s always enough food to feed a football team, music echoing through the boatyard, at least one argument over who burned the burgers and about twenty people yelling over each other while the Louisiana sunset turns everything gold.
Bucky usually keeps to the edges of it all.
Not hiding exactly, just observing. Helping when someone asks. Nodding along to conversations. Holding a beer long enough that people stop offering him another one. And every single cookout for the last two months, somewhere around sunset, he notices you. Always near the water. Sometimes sitting on the edge of the dock with your sandals abandoned beside you, sometimes leaning against one of the old wooden posts near the boatyard. Always looking out toward the horizon like you’re listening to something no one else can hear.
The first time he saw you, he thought to himself how pretty you were, the way the reflected sun off the water glowed across your face. The second time he wondered if you were waiting for someone else to join you. By the fourth cookout, he started looking for you before he even got out of the truck.
Tonight is no different. Bucky stands near the cooler pretending to listen to Sam and Torres argue over seasoning while his eyes drift automatically toward the water, and there you are. Leaning against the fence near the boats, drink hanging loosely from your fingers while the sunset paints orange light across your skin.
Bucky stares too long. Again.
“Jesus Christ,” Sam mutters beside him without even looking up from the grill. “Go talk to her before you wear a hole through the poor girl.”
Bucky nearly chokes on his beer.
“I’m not—”
“You are.”
“I’m just standing here.”
“And lookin’ at her like she hung the moon.”
Bucky scowls while Sam grins into the smoke curling from the grill.
“You got exactly five minutes before somebody else gets the nerve first.”
“That’s not—”
“Five.”
Bucky hates that his stomach actually drops a little at the thought, because he hasn’t done this in a long time, not like this not when it matters. Across the yard, you laugh softly at something one of the Wilson kids says before drifting back toward the quieter end of the dock again. Alone.
Bucky exhales slowly.
Say something to her. Anything.
Before he can talk himself out of it, he starts walking. The wooden boards creak beneath his boots as he approaches. Closer now, he notices details he couldn’t from afar, the condensation sliding down your cup, your hair moving gently in the breeze off the water, the way your shoulders relax out here away from the noise. You glance over at the sound of his footsteps. And suddenly Bucky Barnes the former assassin, war veteran, and literal super soldier—completely forgets how conversations work.
“You uh—”
Brilliant start.
“You’ve been standing there a while.”
The second the words leave his mouth, Bucky wants to launch himself directly into the bay.
Nice going, Barnes.
But then you laugh, soft and surprised and warm enough to knock the air from his lungs.
“Oh, yeah,” you admit, looking back toward the sunset. “Guess I have been.”
Then your eyes flick back to his.
“I didn’t think you’d notice me.”
And Bucky, the poor bastard, his brain short-circuits entirely. Because how is he supposed to answer that honestly?
I notice you every single time you walk into a room.
I started showing up early hoping you’d be here.
I know exactly what your laugh sounds like from across the yard.
Instead what comes out is something much clumsier.
“I’d have to be blind not to notice you.”
Your cheeks flush immediately and Bucky’s soul leaves his body.
“I mean—” he starts quickly, panic rising fast, “not like I’m staring at you or anything—I just meant like—”
You save him then, with that warm gentle smile of yours.
“It’s okay,” you say softly. “I know what you mean.”
The relief nearly takes his knees out. Then after a tiny pause, your voice gets quieter.
“I notice you too.”
Bucky stares at you, stares like he’s trying to process whether he imagined that.
“You do?”
Smooth. Very cool.
You laugh again, ducking your head slightly.
“Kind of hard not to.”
Something warm unfolds slowly in Bucky’s chest. Shock first, then confusion, then happiness so sudden it almost feels dangerous. And when you smile at him again, all shy and sunlight-soft in the fading evening glow, he thinks distantly to himself.
This is good, right? Yeah. Okay. Time to send it home.
Bucky clears his throat.
“I uh—”
God. Why is he suddenly sixteen years old again?
“I notice,” he says carefully, glancing toward your cup, “your drink is empty.”
You look down at it like you forgot you were holding it.
“Would you maybe wanna get another,” Bucky asks, trying very hard not to sound like this is the most nerve-wracking moment of his life, “with me?”
There’s half a second where he’s convinced he ruined it somehow. Then you smile bright enough to rival the sunset behind you.
“Yeah,” you answer softly. “Yeah, I’d like that.”
Bucky tries to play it cool, he really does, but as the two of you start walking back toward the lights and laughter of the cookout together, he can’t stop the small smile pulling at his mouth. And behind the grill, Sam Wilson watches the whole thing happen before immediately shouting aloud for everyone to hear.
“IT’S ABOUT DAMN TIME.”
Bucky flips him off without hesitation which makes you laugh so hard you nearly spill your drink again as he shakes his head and mutters something about this being a setup.
"A setup?"
"You and Sam."
"We've never discussed you."
"That's exactly what somebody discussing me would say."
The two of you reach the cooler then, and Bucky bends down to grab fresh drinks before you can.
"What are you having?"
"Lemonade."
He already knows, you've had lemonade at every cookout. Still, hearing you say it feels oddly satisfying. Bucky twists the cap loose before handing the bottle over, and your fingers brush his. It's brief, barely there, the kind of touch most people wouldn't even notice. But Bucky does.
The warmth of it lingers embarrassingly long.
"Thank you."
"You're welcome."
Neither of you pull away quite as quickly as you probably should and it makes Bucky's heart do something deeply inconvenient.
You seem completely unaware or maybe you're pretending to be, he honestly can't tell. The realization gives him a strange burst of courage. Because you've been smiling at him for the last half hour, because you noticed him too. Because if he leaves tonight without asking, Sam will probably never let him live it down. Mostly because he doesn't want to wait another two weeks to talk to you again.
Bucky clears his throat and immediately, you glance toward him and suddenly the nerves return full force.
"Hey."
"Hey."
Very smooth, professional even, he thinks.
You bite back a smile and Bucky points at you.
"Don't."
"I'm not doing anything."
"You are."
"I haven't said a word."
"You're thinking things."
That finally earns a laugh and the sound settles some of his nerves, just a little, just enough. Bucky rubs the back of his neck. Then, before he can overthink it.
"Would you maybe wanna come to the next cookout with me?"
Your eyebrows lift slightly.
His stomach drops, so he rushes onward.
"I mean—not that you aren't already coming. Obviously you're already coming."
Fantastic.
"God."
You laugh again.
Bucky closes his eyes briefly.
"Let me start over."
"Okay."
He's smiling now despite himself.
"So. Next cookout."
"Next cookout."
"Would you wanna come with me?"
The teasing fades from your expression and something softer takes its place. Your smile becomes smaller, warmer, the kind that twinkles across your eyes.
"I'd like that."
Relief crashes through him so quickly he almost laughs.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
You nudge your shoulder lightly against his, this time definitely on purpose.
"I've kind of been hoping you'd ask."
And for the rest of the night, Bucky can't stop smiling. Not even when Sam catches his eye from across the grill and points both thumbs triumphantly toward the sky. Not even when you laugh at that too. Not even when your head finds his shoulder, or stays there.
thinking about that part in civil war where bucky says "my name is bucky" and steve gives the most saddest wounded little wet cat look a man could possess like he wants to crawl through the screen and pet bucky
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
i’m so obsessed with catws!bucky you have no idea | note: please be aware of the authors’ warnings before reading. fics include canon tw’s like: violence, death, grief. torture and ptsd. some fics have 18+ content so minors please DNI.
part one | part two | part three | main masterlist | also check my latest list: matt murdock pt 2
SERIES - MULTI-CHAPTERS
the blade and the crown • knight!bucky barnes x queen!reader
↳ by @fandoms-writings (smut, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, secret relationship)
avoidance | chaos | strangers | power • bucky barnes x reader
↳ by @ultralightpoe (angst, hurt/comfort, tw: ptsd)
illicit affairs • biker!bucky barnes x stark!reader
↳ by @auroralwriting (enemies to lovers, age gap, angst, gangs)
between a dream | part two | part three • tws!bucky barnes x reader
↳ by @bcksbarnes (angst, comfort, fluff)
before i could say it • bucky barnes x reader
↳ by @fawniswriting (angst, fluff, insecure!bucky)
lessons in lovemaking • bucky barnes x blackwidow!reader
i just heard the phrase “if you wouldn’t trust their advice, don’t trust their criticism” for the first time and i don’t think i’ve ever needed to hear anything more
hate when you find a character whose so infuriatingly Your Type that its embarrassing like yeahg no one is gonna be surprised when i announce this is my new Guy Of The Month
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
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