pairings: bucky barnes x reader
warnings: creepy date, some angst, rejection, ghosting, sad reader
about: requested!! Could you write something kinda angsty, bucky is occupied but reader thinks he ghosted her. maybe he has a dramatic reentry like he sees her at a bar on a new date or somethin
a/n: this is called ghosted in my files but i decided fuck it and called it what it was

the click of your door as it locks seems to echo the one that settles in you, a comforting sort of satisfaction blanketing your warm shoulders, blurring the sharp lens with which you live; it makes edges kinder and worries fall away. a deep sigh escapes your lips, eyes squeezing shut as your lips bite back an even wider grin than the one you sport now.

your lips still tingle from the kiss your date had pressed against your lips, head in a daze as you bring a predictable finger up as if you would feel the prickling through the pad of your index. your lips pull into the curve you tried to help, teeth sinking into the skin of your fingers as you let yourself sink into the sweet honey of your excitement.

your dog cocks his head at you from his bed in the living room, murmuring a soft aroo in question, as if asking you what was wrong.

"oh, duck," you whine, pulling yourself away from your door, eyes opening again as a shaky breath leaves you. "i think i've met him. i know i'm going to sound insane after a few dates—" duck blinks at you and pushes a small whimper past his throat. "but oh my god, he's wonderful."

duck finally hops off of his bed to bound up to you, stretching before pawing at your leg as you fill up a glass of water.

"he's funny and sweet and kind and so beautiful," you ramble, bending down to pick up your dog. "he makes me shy but not in that unpleasant 'i can't breathe or speak in front of him' way. he held my hand and brushed away the hair from my eyes and told me i looked beautiful, and—" you pause, carrying duck over to the dining room table, hoisting him up as you point at the flowers in a vase.

"he got me flowers. my favorite, somehow, and told me they were from this flower shop he goes to every week when he gets a bouquet for the animal shelter."

duck aroos in approval.

"i know," you exclaim exasperatedly, hugging him close to your chest. "and he has a cat. and he talks to her too. he said she approved of me because she bonks his hand and purrs when he says my name now. how does this man exist?" you ask, bouncing gently on your feet.

duck's ears flop. "i know it's too soon but we've been on three dates and they've all been magical and he called me 'his girl' today. i blacked out for a moment, i think."

duck nuzzles his head against your shoulder, comforting you.

"i really like him, duck," you admit in a terrified whisper, meeting his large eyes. "oh, shit."

-

your nail rests between your lips, teeth grazing at it in frustration as you glare at your phone innocently lying on your dining table. duck nudges your hand with his nose with a sad little huff.

"he hasn't called," you whisper. "why hasn't he called? it's been almost five days now."

swallowing, you lower your eyes to your lap, beginning to rub circles into duck's temples.

"he said he'd call. he told me he couldn't wait to hear my voice again while i was standing right there."

there's a burn in your eyes that makes your lids flutter, the movements of your fingers faltering in your disappointment. "i'm so stupid," you groan sadly, bottom lip jutting out. you scan the unread messages you'd sent him over the last few days.

"did i send him too many messages? i only messaged him twice..." you contemplate. "what did i do wrong?"

your mind runs over the events of the best dates you'd ever had, scrutinizing the way you smiled—too wide?—and laughed—too loud?—even doubting the lame puns he'd laughed at anyway.

"maybe it's work," you reason with yourself, fiddling with your nails. you stop suddenly. "he does work—" you pause when you realize your defense is something you've made up. "i don't know what he does." duck cocks his head at you. "i assumed... he kept mentioning the shelter and how his favorite subjects were math and science when i asked, but he never..."

duck coos, nudging you with his nose.

you blink as realization crashes into you. "i don't know anything about him. i don't know what he does or if he even has friends because he keeps referring to 'stevie 'as was, and he avoided family questions, and..." you drift off, face hot as it falls into your hands. "he could be a serial killer and i would have no idea... what did we even talk about?"

you poke around in your brain for helpful information, but the only thing there are the sweet childhood stories he'd confessed through laughter and kind eyes, mumbles of stevie through a frustrated shake of his head, and the antics of his cat explained through smiles. you come up with a few other names and recall his mother's apple pie recipe and beloved garden, but no workplace or job, not even a last name or an i live around here.

"this is so embarrassing," you groan. "was he not sure about me during our first dates and was this one just the dealbreaker?" you wonder aloud, shame prickling at your skin. the saccharine high you were still riding from your date becomes sour, and as you remember the dates, the moments that you'd fawned over become overexposed, concentrating on the smudge of your eyeliner and the crinkles of the dress you'd fallen in love with, the stray hairs you'd dedicated time to setting in a specific place suddenly too messy, bucky's laughter tinged faked, the pull of his smile strained.

the truth of your dates smears enough that you can't tell it apart from what you'd made up, and you glance at your phone again, excitement curdling as you eye bucky's contact name.

"two days?" you ask duck, finding his large eyes already on you sympathetically. your lips push up at him, your hands cupping his little face. "two more days and then he's for sure ghosting me," you confirm, kissing duck's head.

you sigh softly, nuzzling your face against his fur. "i really hope he messages back," you mumble, observing the already wilting flowers bucky had gifted you. the vibrant colors have dulled in the days, petals surrounding your vase. "please don't be ghosting me," you beg quietly.

your phone vibrates, and chagrin pricks your nose at the excitement with which you check if it's bucky. your friend's offer to go out tomorrow stares back, disappearing after a few seconds and leaving only yours and bucky's conversation—or, really, your unread messages underneath yours and bucky's conversations.

you push your tongue against your cheek, nails tapping gently on your phone. "two days and one more text," you decide.

-

you've never been ghosted before.

or, more accurately, you had never been ghosted before. but you suppose it's a ritual, although you wish it hadn't been by the one guy you can't seem to stop thinking about.

you sent him two text messages.

the first had been typed and sent in a frenzy of drunk panic where your brain had convinced you he was near death in a hospital somewhere and you'd sloppily composed can you please just tell me if you're okay? i'm getting worried. and sent it out.

no response, but the gray read underneath it did said enough.

then, an okay lol composed in your embarrassed daze, sure he'd blocked you already. it was a weak attempt at another chance that you didn't want to admit you were dying to give him, desperate for him to take it.

sent still reads underneath it, and you heave a sigh, rubbing your eyes. "wonderful," you mumble.

you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror and remember your glittery buzzing when you would get ready for your dates with bucky, your excitedly nervous smile as you winked at yourself and admitted that you were looking forward to seeing him again.

you straighten your shoulders and raise your chin, taking a deep breath.

"don't be pathetic," you instruct. you groan loudly and slap your cheeks. "don't be dramatic."

you dive for your phone when it lights up with a message, only to come up disappointed when you realize it's one of your friends, boasting about a man she met at her job and insisting on how much you had to meet him.

your fingers have acted in muscle memory and typed out a refusal before you can think twice, but your eyes meet your reflection in the mirror just before you press send, nose raising, face hardening. you delete the message and decide that if bucky doesn't want you, you don't want him either.

your friend schedules your date for tomorrow and you sigh, already beginning to feel the regret trickling in as you remember the awkwardness of first dates, trying to not let the amount of time it took you to find someone as easy to be with as bucky get to you. your eyes drift to the wilted flowers on your counter—new ones, a few colorful ones that you bought yourself in effort of cheering both you and your apartment up, but they're enough to remind you of the ones from bucky that you'd thrown away.

you square your shoulders and remind yourself that the messages you'd sent bucky still sit in his inbox, unanswered.

huffing at his imagined offense, you move to pick out your outfit for tomorrow.

-

it only takes you three minutes of nodding weakly at the egotistical ramblings of your blind date for you to wish you'd never agreed to it.

too long of your life in, and it's frustrating to realize exactly how much you'd liked bucky. he's there, behind your date's shoulder, behind the bar—everywhere—cocking his head and raising an eyebrow at you as if to say him?

yes, him, you want to snap. and then maybe you want to kiss him.

you can't help but think back to the dates you'd had with bucky, compare the place you're in and the flowers that this date apparently thinks ridiculous. you begin to mold your boredom into angry words that you'll send your friend after this date is over, and then eye the clock, trying to convince yourself that this man cannot possibly talk about himself for that much longer.

the universe is determined to make your love life as miserable as possible, though, and you discover that he can.

quietly, fired up from the leftover frustration, your brain curses bucky.

you don't bother to hold back a grimace once your date moves on to his spectacular ex-fiance, only continuing to sip your water, regretting it wasn't something stronger.

bleary-eyed now, you skim over a familiar chiseled face behind your date, but your eyes snap back immediately when you realize who those defined features belong to.

blue crinkles in excitement when it meets your eye, beginning to take confident strides toward you, only for eyebrows to pinch in confusion as he eyes the situation.

bucky stutters to a halt in the middle of the bar as he takes in the drink in your hand and the man in front of you, whose fingers begin to inch toward your thigh suggestively.

"oh no," you whisper, lips parting gently as you look at anything but bucky. you can't help but think how unfair it is that the moment you try to move on, the reason for your attempt walks right in and gazes up at you with the most innocently confused eyes you'd seen.

your date doesn't notice your troubles, which makes the hand crawling up your leg all the more acrid. you clench your jaw and stop him with a thin smile, not noticing as bucky shakes himself out of it.

"i don't think this is going to work out," you push through clenched teeth as your date takes your rejection as encouragement, squeezing your thigh sharply. "please don't touch me."

"c'mon, just a good time, then?" he offers, leaning closer.

you back up. "no thanks."

his eyes catch on something behind you, brows joining as he follows something that drapes heavily on your shoulders. you want to be startled, but the smell of bucky snaps something familiar in you, urging you to relax into the crook of bucky's arm before you can be startled that you can recognize him without turning to look at him.

"there a problem here?" he asks.

"no," your date—you're sure he had a name—answers curtly. "at least not until you showed up. we're on a date here, buddy."

bucky purses his lips. "i don't think you have a date with my girlfriend, pal." his arm brings you closer, glinting in the light. your date—mark!—catches sight of it and stammers, eyes flickering from bucky to you to his arm. "will you give us some alone time now?" there's a mocking edge to his words, bladed with thinly-veiled threat.

mark agrees with a nod, sliding off his chair and slinking out the door.

you stare at your feet once there's no reason for bucky to keep his arm around you, itching to remove it before the little progress you'd made was erased completely.

"thanks," you say finally, forcing yourself to slip underneath his arm and off your chair. you open your purse to get your wallet out to pay for the drinks mark left unpaid, only to get outpaced by the quick way with which bucky opens his wallet and slams money down on the counter. you huff, meeting his eyes frustratedly before you put down your own money, nudging his toward him. "i can pay for my own drinks, thanks."

bucky's brows knit together, lips parting when you turn abruptly to walk out of the bar. he takes a second to realize what's going on, grabbing what you'd laid on the bar to hand it back to you. "are you mad at me?" he asks once he's finally caught up with you.

"oh, am i not being sunshine and rainbows enough? is that what it was?" you retort, scoffing. "sorry."

"what?" bucky wonders, speeding up when you do. you push open the door and step out, leaving it to slam on bucky's face, but you grab onto the handle at the last moment with an annoyed crease between your brows. he huffs as he jogs to catch up, wrapping loose fingers around your arm. "wait."

"why should i?" you ask him, finally turning to meet his eye, but your gaze is cold, unlike the last time he'd seen you.

"because—" he cuts himself off, nose crinkling as he has some sort of realization, his hand falls away. "why am i explaining myself? i should be mad at you."

you stare at him incredulously, scoffing loudly. "excuse me?"

bucky nods indignantly, his eyes boring into you. "last thing i remember is you kissing me at the end of our date, tellin' me how much fun you had and how much you wanted to see me again, and now you're on a date with someone else?"

your features pucker, eyes slanting. "yeah. and last i remember is you telling me you'd call. or text—just, anything." you jam a finger into his chest, upset. how dare he? "you told me 'i can't wait to hear your voice again' when i was closing my door!" you do a poor imitation of him, crossing your arms and scrunching your brows, your voice dropping exaggeratedly as you bob your head mockingly. "and then no contact for a week!"

"hey now—" bucky starts, extending a hand, but you stop him, your parroting dropping into disappointment, anger fizzling into sadness. his eyes search you worriedly, beginning to reach out to you.

"you told me you wanted me to meet your cat," you remind sadly, unable to stop the pout that pinches your lips. "and then you... ghosted me. didn't even open my messages."

bucky stares at you blankly, blinking in confusion. "i do want you to meet my cat," he insists.

"sure. that's what you're saying when you ghost people," you retort humorlessly, beginning to turn again, but he holds you back gently.

"you keep saying that—ghosting? what is that? when did i do that?" you move to scoff again, but the honest confusion draped across his face catches you off guard.

"you're serious?" he nods. "it's all over the internet—it's when someone just cuts off all communication with someone without reason or warning. for example, leading someone on with wonderful dates and promising to call and then never contacting them again—or replying to their concerned messages to check if they're alive."

"i didn't—i didn't mean to do that. to ghost you. i was... on a work trip," bucky explains, fingers vining down your arms.

you roll your eyes. "really? i thought that at first, actually, but then i realized how little you actually told me. like, what is it that you do exactly, because i never quite caught it on our various dates."

"it's..." bucky pauses uncertainly. "complicated."

"stupendous," you cheer sarcastically. "what about your friends? do you have any friends? where do you live?"

"that's..." he struggles to find the words.

"complicated?" you finish for him, nodding. "of course it is. i'm leaving now."

you've walked through the door before he can intercept you again, but bucky sidesteps in front of you just as you spot your car. "please don't leave. i honestly didn't mean to do... that... to you and my life is..." he frowns. "uncertain and complicated all the time. you're not. i didn't—i don't want to force you into this because you didn't know who i was when this started and i liked that, but—"

"what are you talking about?" you ask in disbelief, your annoyance burning at the bottom of your stomach. as if it wasn't bad enough that he ghosted you, he was now forcing you through a faux explanation to make himself feel better.

bucky's lips contort with internal struggle until his shoulders slump, shutting his eyes for a second before he speaks up.

"my name is bucky barnes. my best friend is steve rogers. i work as a sort of... agent. i live in the avengers tower because i help them out sometimes. i was away on an impromptu mission last week and that's why i didn't answer you or see your texts."

you stare up at him for a few moments, eyes flickering between his features. finally, you huff. "steve rogers is stevie? captain america? the avengers tower—a mission?" you repeat, shaking your head disappointedly. "how stupid do you think i am?"

"i don't think you're stupid," bucky tells you.

"so what you're saying is that you're what? an avenger whose bestie is captain america?" you retort.

"well, i wouldn't say it like that." bucky shrugs. "i'm not an avenger, but i've known steve my entire life. will you just give me a chance to prove it to you?"

you frown, scanning him, arms crossed defensively. "how?"

"to start with—" he reaches around you to grab your phone, wagging it in front of you. "why not consult google? great app."

you settle a glare at him, plucking your phone away from his fingertips. "i don't use google. privacy and all that."

still, you type something in, clicking your screen until your eyes bore into it, gaze flickering from your phone to bucky. he attempts an awkward smile.

"wow, that's really not edited," you remark, holding your phone up to your face. his forced grin drops unamusedly, gently lowering your wrist. his face softens, his thumb rubbing shapes into your wrist.

"do you believe me now?"

your eyes drop to the floor, tongue pushing against your cheek. "so you were really on a mission?"

"got the bruises to prove it." a cold index finger rises to tilt your chin up, urging to to look at him.

"what about leaving me on read after i asked if you were okay?" you point out.

"i'm not supposed to have my phone on missions. i opened it to answer you but then i got shot at," bucky explains, and then tilts his head at you. "i'm sorry i didn't tell you anything. you didn't know who i was, somehow, and i liked that. i didn't want to risk things with you, and that was selfish of me." he purses his lips, fingers falling away. "there's still... a lot."

"do you mean the winter soldier?" you ask, words careful, attention hesitant.

his eyebrows furrow. "i thought you didn't know who i was."

"i didn't know his face," you explain. "i've only read about him and i'm aware that he is a different person than james buchanan barnes. i'm not dating the winter soldier, i'm dating bucky."

he eyes your face for a moment before cracking a small smile, looking cheeky. burly and huge as he is, you can tell he's flustered too, but he smothers it with a teasing nudge of his shoulder. "so we're dating, huh?"

you grin sheepishly, looking away from him. "if you want."

bucky smirks at you, pulling you to him by the wrist he was still holding. "yeah, i want." you can feel his lips curl sweetly underneath yours, fingers tucking in the money you'd left into your back pocket. when he pulls away, it's with glittering ocean eyes and crinkles next to his eyes. "so when can you meet my cat?"