Chapter Text
(Y/n) - Your name
(L/n) - Last name
(F/v) - Favorite vegetable
(E/c) - Eye Color
You headed out the door of your apartment building in Brooklyn, New York on a beautiful, spring afternoon. The sky above was sunny, without a cloud in the bright blue expanse overhead. As you walked down the street, the cars zooming by in classic Brooklyn fashion, you waved at a neighbor who was just coming in.
“Heya (Y/n)!” A kind and familiar elderly man greeted you with a smile as you passed him on the sideway.
“Good Morning, Mr. Jones,” you smiled and continued on your way. As you neared the shopping square, you could feel that something was off in the atmosphere. You stood and watched for a second. People milled about around the fountain in the middle of the square, couples giggled with each other and families busily hopped from shop to shop. Nothing actually looked off or felt out of place, or too much so anyway (it was Brooklyn after all) so you shrugged the feeling off and headed toward the grocer's store on the far end of the square. But as you neared the entrance, you noticed a bunch of commotion around you. People all around were moving and yelling.
Before you could understand what was happening, someone grabbed you from behind. An arm wrapped around your neck, and the barrel of a gun pressed into the side of your head.
“Nobody moves, or she dies!” You heard your capturer harshly yell to the frightened citizens around you. You could tell the man holding you hostage was tall and buff, with strong arms clad in dark blue gripping you tightly. You wanted to scream, but you were too scared to move, and he was too strong to budge. With panic rising in your chest, you trembled with fear and felt tears swell up in your eyes and drip down your cheek. You didn’t even realize you were muttering your thoughts out loud until you felt the barrel of the gun being roughly jabbed into your head.
" Omigosh, omigosh, I'm gonna die, I hope they do what he says-"
“Shut up!”
The man held you there for what felt like forever as he yelled out orders to people around you. Your legs felt weak and trembly, but he forced you to stand there, readjusting his grip on the pistol and pressing it harder into your temple. Your heart was pounding, and your chest felt tight; you had never been so scared in your life. It seemed like hours, but was probably only minutes, when you saw something in the sky.
Was that a man? With wings? Was that possible? No. It couldn’t be. But was it the Falcon? Before you could figure out what was happening, your attention was drawn back to the ground where a man with a metal arm was running toward you and your capturer.
The man shifted his grip around your neck as he turned to meet the newcomer, and you managed to duck free from his grasp just as the Falcon landed in front of him. You stumbled to the side, out of the way and watched as the next events unfolded, trying to catch your breath. The man raised his gun as if to shoot you, saw the Falcon lunging at him, and turned to run, but as he did he was face to face with the guy with the metal arm again.
“You tryna go somewhere hotshot?” You heard the Falcon say. The man looked like he was gripped in fear, trying to find a way out. “You got nowhere to go, buddy.” The Falcon stepped closer, and finally the man surrendered, dropping the gun to the cement ground.
“I got this from here, Bucky, go see if she’s okay.” You saw the Falcon give a nod in your direction, and the guy with the metal arm, Bucky, walked over to you. Why did he look familiar? You felt like you knew him from somewhere.
“Hey, you alright, ma'am?” Bucky spoke in a soft voice, visually checking you for any injuries. You nodded, trying to collect your thoughts as you wiped the tears from your face. You studied this Bucky guy up and down, trying to figure out why he looked so familiar. He had short brown hair, blue-gray eyes, and a black metal arm with gold accents. To be honest, he was kinda cute.
“I’m (Y/n), and yeah, yeah I’m good. Do I know you? 'Cause you look familiar,” you said to him as you caught your breath. He shook his head.
“Probably seen me on tv or something,” he replied with a sigh and took another step closer while keeping an eye on his surroundings.
On tv?
Then it hit you. All the news reports from Germany, DC, Vienna, and more came flooding back to you.
The Winter Soldier.
Wasn’t this guy known for over two dozen murders and assassinations? But...he seemed so nice? So civilized? After all, he did help save you from getting your brains blown out. For some reason you couldn’t explain, you felt like you could trust him. You felt this strange connection to him that you struggled to comprehend.
“Are...Aren’t you the Winter Soldier?” You cocked your head and waited for an answer, subconsciously taking a step backwards. Bucky seemed to notice, and his eyes washed over with a wave of sadness as he looked at the ground.
“That’s not me anymore,” he replied in a voice just above a monotoned whisper. He sounded so… sincere, as though he felt like he would only be known as an identity that he didn’t live up to anymore. You slowly took a step forward to show him that you believed him. He must have noticed because he gave you a smirky grin.
“You sure you’re alright?” Bucky asked again, meeting your tear stained eyes. You nodded in response.
“Yeah… yeah I’m good, I just…. it’s not everyday I face a near death experience.” You gave a slight chuckle, and Bucky smiled while his eyes sparkled.
Oh man, that was a beautiful smile.
“Well, I actually kind of have some experience in that area,” he murmured, gazing off.
You weren't quite sure what he meant by that, so you shrugged and nodded. Noticing the rifle slung across his back, you gestured to it. “You a good shot?” you asked curiously. Bucky nodded as he scratched the back of his neck.
“I mean, yeah. I was trained pretty intensely on the other side of the world for a while,” he replied in a soft tone.
“Cool. My dad used to teach me how to shoot, just for fun as a hobby and stuff, but now he lives cross-country, so it’s kind of hard to get a lesson these days,” you said with a shrug. Bucky looked down at you, his blue-gray eyes staring straight into your (e/c) ones.
“I could give you a lesson sometime,” He said with a flirty grin. You nodded and replied, “Yeah, that would be nice. Well, I should get going, it was nice meeting you.” You smiled and started to walk away, but Bucky gently grabbed your arm.
“Hey, before you go, if you need anything just let me know. Like I said, I've had some brushes with near-death experiences, I know… I know how that can feel.”
He grinned, but for the slightest second his eyes seemed to glaze over and became empty. It was such a quick change you thought if you weren’t paying attention you were sure you would have missed it.
“My name is Bucky, Bucky Barnes, by the way.” Bucky handed you a small piece of paper before he walked back to join his friend the Falcon.
You looked at the small piece of folded crinkled paper in your hand. Deciding not to look at it just yet, you stuffed it in your coat pocket and made your way back to your apartment, all the while your thoughts kept trailing back to Bucky.
~¥~
You entered your apartment on the second floor and shuffled to the worn gray couch up against the wall. You sat down and laid your head back, thinking about your eventful day. You hadn't gotten your (f/v) for the stirfry you were planning to have tonight, but you had somehow gotten yourself entangled in a hostage attempt. And that guy, Bucky? He actually seemed pretty cool. He didn’t look, act, or seem like a murderous assassin. He seemed really kind, soft, and sweet. Maybe he was really trying to right his wrongs. You knew what that was like. Well, maybe you hadn't murdered people, but there were other things you regretted.
You slid your hand in your pocket and remembered the slip of paper Bucky had given you. Slowly, you pulled it out, wondering what was written inside. When you opened it, there was an address written on it with a red star drawn above. Bucky’s soft words and that special grin played themselves over in your mind.
“I could give you a lesson sometime.”
You decided that you might just take him up on that offer.