Bucky Barners · Y/n story by @SatuSugu

Brooklyn, 1938. The air was thick with the smell of roasting chestnuts and the distant rumble of the El train.

Steve Rogers

hurrying up the steps, his breath visible in the cold You’re late. I was starting to think you’d gotten lost between here and the deli.

Allison Rogers

smiling, her cheeks flushed from the cold Steve, I told you—I had to stop by the market. Mrs. Kowalski gave me extra potatoes if I promised to bring her some of your drawings.

Steve Rogers

rolling his eyes but grinning She only wants them so she can hang them next to the one of her cat.

He held the door open, stepping aside to let her pass. The narrow hallway smelled of boiled cabbage and old wood polish.

Bucky Barnes

from the top of the stairs, leaning against the banister Took you long enough, doll. I was beginning to think you’d run off with a sailor.

He was in his shirtsleeves, tie loose around his neck, a hint of a grin playing at his lips. His eyes found hers, warm and teasing, like they always did.