Marvel Imagines

Rainy, Lazy Afternoon ('40s Bucky Barnes X Reader)

Above: A soundscape I made to go along with this story! It's my first time trying my hand at anything like it, so let me know your thoughts!

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It hasn't rained for weeks.

For the average person, that would seem like a good thing - no rain equals more sunshine!

But for you, a woman who loves the rain and the lovely grey skies that accompany that type of weather, you're beginning to really wish the heavens would open up.

As you hum softly to the gentle tune playing over the radio waves, flipping the last few of the pancakes you'd been working on, you can't help but cast your gaze out of the kitchen window.

The sky isn't as bright as it has been the past few days, a sign of the weather you're looking for, maybe?

"Mornin' doll," A familiarly husky voice sounds from behind you, followed closely by a warm pair of arms lazily wrapping around your torso.

"Good morning to you too, sleepy head," You tease your boyfriend, dodging his attempt to plant a kiss to your cheek as you step out of his grasp, grabbing the plate containing the stack of breakfast items and wandering into the small dining room off to the side of your even smaller kitchen in your even smaller apartment the three of you all share.

"Y/N..." Bucky whines softly as he chases after you, once more trying to capture you in an embrace, though you continue to avoid him. "C'mon doll... Can't I at least get a hug?"

You chuckle lightly, placing the tiny bowl of strawberries Steve had managed to snatch up from the market the other day on the table beside the pancakes.

"Oh, alright," You finally agree when you turn back around to meet the man standing behind you, his brown hair a tangled mess, his steely blue eyes shining with a trace of fatigue, though a smirk is gracing his lips.

Meeting Bucky in an embrace, you allow his larger frame to hide away your smaller one, your hands finding their way around his neck as your head rests against his chest.

"Breakfast looks delicious," He murmurs in your ear, his warm breath tickling the sensitive skin as goosebumps dance across your arms.

"It was Stevie's idea," You confess, staring up at Bucky's mesmerizing blue gaze through your lashes.

"Where is the little punk anyways?" He chuckles, though his tone drops the playfulness as he waits for your response.

"He went down to the foyer to get the mail, I believe," You grin reassuringly.

And, lo and behold, the much smaller form of Steve Rogers stumbles through the front door of the shared apartment, his hands evidently full of various items.

"Whatcha got there?" You inquire as both you and Bucky step apart and approach the blond, who sets the handful of papers on the coffee table in the living room.

"The mail," He huffs, seeming to be annoyed as his gaze skims over the brunet at your side, though his entire demeanour shifts when he sees the breakfast you'd laid out earlier. "Wow, Y/N/N! You really outdid it!"

"Pssh!" You protest as you all take your unassigned-assigned seats around the round table, helping yourselves to the strawberries and pancakes. "I'm no chef compared to you, Stevie!"

"You are one hell of a good cook, Pal," Bucky chimes in, pouring himself a glass of watered down apple juice sitting in the pitcher before pouring yours as well.

"I'm not that good, you guys," The blond insists, cutting into his meal. "I just enjoy it, unlike either of you, so that's why you like my cooking. Because when I cook, you don't have to."