Bucky Barnes X Y/n Oneshots.

The BBQ Tension

The smell of sizzling barbecue filled the backyard of the Wilson family home, mingling with the salty Louisiana air. It was a perfect summer day—blue skies, warm sun, and just enough breeze to keep the heat bearable. Sam Wilson stood at the grill, flipping ribs with practiced ease, while Bucky Barnes leaned against the counter next to him, his metal arm glinting in the sunlight as he sipped a cold beer.

"Barnes, you're supposed to help, not just stand there looking intimidating," Sam teased, nudging him with an elbow.

Bucky smirked, setting his bottle down. "You don't need help, Wilson. You've got this 'grill master' thing under control."

"Damn right I do," Sam replied, grinning. "Still, you could at least pretend to be useful."

Bucky chuckled but straightened up to grab a plate of marinated vegetables that Sarah had brought out earlier.

The sound of laughter and conversation floated over from the rest of the group lounging on the patio. Steve, Natasha, and Wanda sat around the table playing cards, Shuri and Peter were deep in a debate about some new tech, and T'Challa observed everything with his usual regal calm.

Then she appeared.

Y/N Stark walked out onto the patio carrying a six-pack of beer, her sun-kissed skin glowing in the late afternoon light. She wore denim shorts and a simple tank top, her hair pulled into a messy bun that somehow made her look effortlessly beautiful. She waved at Sam and Bucky as she approached, her smile so bright it rivaled the sun.

"Boys, need reinforcements?" she called, holding up the beers.

Sam grinned. "You're a lifesaver, Y/N. We're running low."

Bucky, on the other hand, remained silent. His jaw clenched slightly as his eyes flicked past her to the figure trailing behind her: Helmut Zemo.

Zemo, wearing an annoyingly casual linen shirt and slacks, followed Y/N with a relaxed stride, his ever-present smirk in place. He was carrying a bowl of what looked like some sort of Eastern European side dish, presumably his contribution to the barbecue.

Bucky's grip on the metal tongs tightened, the faint creak of vibranium audible.

"Relax, Buck," Y/N said lightly, catching the tension in his stance. She set the beers on the counter and placed a calming hand on his arm. "He's harmless."

"Harmless," Bucky repeated, his tone flat, his icy blue eyes locked on Zemo. "Sure. Because everyone forgets the whole Sokovia Accords mess and, oh yeah, that time he framed me for murder."

Zemo reached the grill, seemingly unfazed by Bucky's glare. "James, it's nice to see you too. You're looking well," he said, his tone dripping with politeness.

Bucky's nostrils flared, but before he could say something he'd probably regret, Y/N stepped in.

"Helmut brought some kind of fancy salad thing," she said, gesturing to the bowl Zemo was holding. "Thought it might balance out all the meat."

Sam, ever the peacemaker, chuckled. "We could use some balance. Thanks, man."

Zemo inclined his head, placing the bowl on the counter. "It's a traditional dish from my homeland. I thought it would be a nice touch."

As the afternoon went on, the party thrived. People moved between the grill, the patio, and the lawn, where a game of touch football had broken out.

Bucky tried to enjoy himself, but his mood soured every time he caught sight of Zemo chatting with Y/N. They stood near the drink table, laughing about something, and Bucky couldn't help but feel his stomach twist.

"Dude, you're glaring again," Sam said, handing him a plate of grilled chicken.

Bucky scowled. "I'm not glaring."

"You are," Sam insisted. "Look, man, I get it. You don't trust the guy. None of us do. But Y/N's smart—smarter than all of us combined. If she says he's harmless, maybe give her the benefit of the doubt."

Bucky sighed, running a hand through his hair. "It's not just that. I mean... she's my girlfriend, Sam. And seeing him all buddy-buddy with her—after everything—doesn't sit right."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "Ah, so it's not just about trust. It's about jealousy."

Bucky shot him a withering look. "I'm not jealous."

Sam just smirked. "Sure you're not."

Later, as the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting a warm golden glow over the yard, Y/N found Bucky sitting on the edge of the patio, his legs stretched out in front of him.

"Hey," she said, sitting down beside him.

"Hey," he replied, his voice softer now.

She handed him another beer, her gaze searching his. "You've been quiet. What's on your mind?"

Bucky hesitated, then sighed. "I don't like him, Y/N. I don't trust him. And seeing you with him... it drives me crazy."

Her brows furrowed, but there was a hint of a smile on her lips. "You're jealous?"

"Maybe," he admitted reluctantly. "But it's not just that. I don't want him near you. Not after what he's done."

Y/N reached for his hand, her fingers lacing with his. "I get it, Bucky. I really do. But I'm not naïve. I know who Zemo is, and I know what he's capable of. But he's trying to make amends in his own way. And as far as today goes, he's just another guest at a barbecue."

Bucky looked at her, the weight of his emotions clear in his eyes. "I just... I don't want to lose you."

"You won't," she said firmly. "You're stuck with me, Barnes."

His lips quirked into a small smile. "Promise?"

"Promise."

They sat there for a moment, the sounds of laughter and music around them fading into the background.

"Now," Y/N said, standing up and tugging him to his feet. "Come on. Let's get back to the party before my dad starts hovering again."

Bucky chuckled, following her back to the group. And while he couldn't quite shake his wariness of Zemo, he knew one thing for sure—Y/N was worth any fight.