Bucky Barnes Oneshots

i hate you (smut/fluff)

1940s

Bucky Barnes was the asshole across the street with the stupid loud motorcycle and white tees and leather jackets. You hated him.

"Hey, doll."

You heard it every day when you came walking home from school, books in hand. And every day, it irritated you. You would scowl at Bucky, and he would flash his stupid smirk and wink at you.

You'd see him shirtless at night, smoking out on his porch. Once, he caught you staring out the window, and he'd teased you about it the next day on your way off to school.

"Checking me out last night, doll?"

"Don't call me that. It's Y/N. And no I wasn't checking you out. I was watching you die slowly of lung cancer," you snarked, making him throw his head back with laughter.

"If smoking doesn't kill you, I will," you muttered before going inside of your house.

"JAMES BUCHANAN BARNES!" You screamed, throwing your front door open. You were wrapped in a blanket over your thin pajamas, and you were infuriated.

"What?" He called with a stupid amused look on his face.

"It's five in the fucking morning! Stop revving the engine on your motorcycle! You're waking up the whole neighbourhood!"

"You're the one screaming."

"I hate you," you seethed.

Without breaking eye contact, he revved the engine again. You were so irritated you could cry, and you resolved yourself to go back inside, refusing to let Bucky get the satisfaction of seeing your reaction to his antagonizing.

This had gone on for months. You were able to ignore him most of the time, but he was persistent. Your friends joked that he was in love with you, but you couldn't imagine it. Bucky was delighted to get you worked up, and he was proud of himself for it.

"You've all lost your bloody minds," you assured your friends, dragging them inside as Bucky whistled at you from across the street.

"He's just my annoying neighbor."

Bucky seemed to be always washing his yellow car in his driveway. You'd come home and see him shirtless, in low-rise jeans that showed off v-lines, bent over the hood of his soapy car. If it wasn't the car, it was his motorcycle. He always winked at you or blew you a kiss, making you shake your head or roll your eyes.

You hated to see him washing his car, because it made it that much more difficult to deny how incredibly gorgeous he was.

Bucky delighted in getting you worked up. He loved to see your cheeks flush pink and the way your nose scrunched up at his banter. He had a crush on you, ever since he moved in, and he always loved your attention, even if he got it by antagonizing you.

Bucky did intend to get in your good favor, but you had made up your mind that you didn't like him. Bucky was determined, and loved a challenge.

Bucky decided his opportunity to win you over was when it was pouring down rain. The morning had started out sunny when you'd walked to school, but the weather had turned rapidly mid-morning.

He got in his yellow car, and drove to the college in town, parking outside and going into the lobby with an umbrella. He leaned against a railing, waiting for you to get out of your class, to give you a lift and keep you from getting soaked and ruining your books.

As soon as it started to rain, you'd fretted about getting home. You didn't have any friends that drove, and you had been debating whether to wait out the rain or just brave it and get wet.