“Everyone Thinks The Winter Soldier Goes To Their Gym…”
A/N: Hi! I made dis. It was supposed to be a one-shot but it turned out longer than expected idk if you guys like it maybe I’ll do a part two (with smuooooot). Idk just a cute idea that popped into my head today. Kinda stupid but whatever. Let me know what you think!
>>BUCKY BARNES X PLUS-SIZE/CURVY READER
(I mean really it could be for anyone with a little extra cushion for the pushin’ in any area)
Summary: Everyone thinks The Winter Soldier goes to their gym… but for you, it’s true. You develop a crush on a guy that goes to your gym while you’re abroad in Bucharest for an internship, and when you find out who he really is, things get interesting.
Warnings: just maybe a lil swearing, mentions of self-confidence issues from being curvy
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It’s Elena I have to thank, really. If I hadn’t met her at university during the semester she was studying abroad in America from Romania, none of this ever would have happened. She and I hit it off right away and spent her whole semester in America practically joined at the hip. I was devastated to say goodbye to her as summer rapidly approached, but then her elder brother, who had his own graphic design firm in Bucharest, offered me an internship. Naturally, I could not say no this amazing opportunity and the chance to continue spending time with my new best friend, so that’s how I found myself boarding a plane to Romania with her to spend the summer abroad.
Her family had offered for me to stay with them, but I wanted to find my own place for the duration of my stay. I was the sort of person who enjoyed my alone time, and I didn’t want to be any more of an imposition on Elena’s family. I found a small apartment with a month-to-month lease agreement that was just a few streets walking-distance from the gym where Elena worked as a shift manager while she was at home. Honestly, I was about as comfortable in a gym as I would be in the middle of a rainforest. To put it frankly, in the words of our beloved modern poet Nicki Minaj, “you can tell I ain’t missin’ no meals.” But I reasoned that this summer abroad could be a new chapter for me, and since Elena was giving me a significant discount on a membership, I thought it might not be a bad idea to try working out for once.
It pretty much sucked. I detest running, and I was too nervous and awkward to make a fool of myself trying to use any weight machines, so the first few times I went, I really hated it. But then, I saw him.
I was huffing and puffing on an oddly-placed elliptical machine that faced out over the running track that went around the perimeter of the gym’s second floor, when he came loping past me. He was both tall and wide, with a massive chest, hulking arms and perfectly toned calves. He was wearing, oddly, a sweatshirt and gloves, paired with gym shorts and sneakers. His shoulder-length auburn hair was tied up in a messy knot on top of his head, sweaty strands falling loose around his square, stubbled jaw. I was pretty sure I was in love with him already, just from that first glimpse of his muscular but graceful frame jogging by. It was all I could do not to gape open-mouthed as he ran lap after lap around the track, unable to tear my gaze away from his tight but juicy butt that looked oh-so-good in those shorts.
I became mildly obsessed with him, going to the gym at all different hours trying to figure out his workout schedule so that I could get on the same one. In my head, and to Elena, I referred to him simply as Man Bun. Every time he was there, he only ran the track, and I would park myself on the awkward elliptical and watch him jog by, my brain chalking up flowery images of me getting fit and him noticing me, and us jogging off into the sunset together.
Elena suggested that I make more of my time at the gym (of which I was spending a lot, since she worked there and I was lovestruck) and that I should try one of the classes that were included with my membership. I tried Zumba, step, spinning, something horrible called “cardio core” - all to no avail. Until finally, I tried kickboxing. Now that was something I could get into. The first time I went to the class, I had so much fun that I didn’t want to leave when it was over, and I hadn’t even thought about Man Bun once. I was elated to have found my “thing”, but there was one problem: the class was fairly advanced, with most of the attendees having been taking it for years, and there was no beginner class to learn all of the moves. As much as I tried to keep up, I kept getting lost and could not get a grasp on what the commands were that the instructor was shouting out.
I expressed my exasperation to Elena while she was working at the front desk one day after a particularly difficult class, looking enviously at her naturally slender frame and glancing at the door every five seconds, terrified that Man Bun would come in and see me all sweaty and disheveled.
“Listen,” she brought her heavily accented voice down low, glancing around her, “maybe you just need some time to take it slow and figure it out. I have a second set of keys to the building. If you want, you could sneak in after-hours and have the punching bags to yourself, as long as you clean up after and lock the doors when you leave. There are no alarms, and the surveillance cameras are just for show; no one would ever know you were here.”
I took the keys, but I thought her idea was pretty insane. The idea of sneaking into the empty gym after hours freaked me out for more reasons than one, and besides, I wasn’t sure that a little one-on-one with a punching bag would make me suddenly understand how to kickbox. However, after a few more disastrous classes and one terrifying run in with Man Bun in the stairwell where I nearly bumped into him and he looked right through me as if I didn’t exist, I began to think a little more seriously about the idea.
On the next Friday night, I was laying in my bed staring up at the ceiling and listening to the deafening silence of the street outside. It was late, nearly 1:00 in the morning, and I couldn’t sleep. I was feeling restless, annoyed with my lack of progress in my fitness resolution. It wasn’t even so much that I wanted to lose weight, it was more so that I wanted this summer to be the beginning of a lifestyle change, and that I would find an activity that I really liked to do. Huffing out a big breath, I sat up in bed and began pulling on my workout clothes.
Thirty minutes later, I reached the gym on foot, my small duffel slung over my shoulder. It was eerily dark and quiet, making my heart thud in my chest as I turned the key in the lock on the front door. It clicked, and I squeezed my eyes shut and braced for the sound of an alarm even in spite of Elena’s assurance to the contrary, but there was only silence. Cautiously I snuck inside, locking the door behind me and using my phone as a flashlight as I tiptoed down the hallway towards the group exercise rooms in the back of the building.
As I approached the kickboxing studio, however, I saw a sliver of light through the crack of the door which was slightly ajar. My heart leapt into my throat with fear as I heard noises coming from inside the room. Was someone else here? I froze mid-step, unsure of what to do. It could be anyone - a squatter, a robber, or even just another employee from the gym. Any of them could get me into big trouble. What if it was a squatter? I should at least try to get a peek at them, for Elena’s sake, so that they can put out a warrant for their arrest for breaking and entering. In retrospect I guess it was kind of a crazy conclusion, but I admit I was extremely curious as well. I crept quietly towards the door, the sounds from within growing louder: the unmistakable sound of someone punching one of the bags and grunting with the effort, and the low murmuring of words that I couldn’t understand. It definitely wasn’t English, but it didn’t sound like Romanian, either, but definitely a man’s voice. Hands shaking, I leaned forward and peered through the crack into the room. The figure was evidently on the other side of the room, not in my line of sight, and I was trying to decide if I should risk poking my head around when there was a loud THWAP! A punching bag came suddenly whizzing past the door where I was leaning in, startling me so badly that I squaked out loud in surprise.
Then, it was deadly silent. I clapped my hand over my mouth, heart racing, wondering if there was any chance he hadn’t heard me, wondering if I should run or try to hide, when–BOOM. I was blinded by the light from the studio as the door banged open, nearly ripped off it’s hinges and I yelped again as I fell backward in surprise. A huge hand caught my wrist before I hit the ground and swung me around so that I was hanging into the light of the studio, fully visible.
“Who are you and what do you want?” he asked in Romanian, which I could barely understand. The voice was sharp, frightening, and angry, and I felt my eyes swimming with fearful tears that obscured my view of my attacker.
“I’m s-s-s-s-sorry!” I choked out in English, my voice a tiny squeak. “I’m just–I j-j-just came to p-p-practice, I’m n-nobody, I just g-g-go to this gym!”
After a moment, the man steadied me on my feet and let go of my wrist. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I thought you were… I thought you might be someone else,” his accent was perfect American, New York maybe, and his tone suggested regret at his outburst. “I’m sorry, did I hurt you?”
Quickly I swiped the tears from my eyes, getting ahold of myself and checking my wrist for any damage, but it looked fine, not even a bruise. “N-no,” I tried to sound indignant and angry, but it came out more petulant. Finally I looked up at him, and felt my jaw drop in surprise.
“What are you doing here?” I blurted out without thinking. He raised an eyebrow and cocked his head at me.
“I could ask you the same question.”
“I… my friend works here,” I said, struggling for a response. “I just…” but my thought was interrupted as I took in the full picture in front of me. Man Bun was shirtless, which was a sight in and of itself, but the more shocking part was that his left arm seemed to be entirely made of metal. I gaped openly at it for a moment, watching as a few of the plates seemed to shift and move, my eyes travelling up to the shoulder where there was a large red star painted.
Suddenly, I was deathly afraid. I had seen that arm once before, on an American news broadcast several months ago. Wanted for numerous high-profile murders: James Buchanan Barnes, aka The Winter Soldier.
He must’ve seen the moment it clicked, because he took a step towards me that made me cower back. He held his hands, one flesh and one metal, up in an innocence gesture.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said quietly. “I don’t do that anymore. Whatever you’ve heard about me, all that stuff happened when I was brainwashed by HYDRA. That’s not me anymore.” He looked pained, and he squeezed his eyes shut for a moment before opening them to give me an earnest, pleading look. “I’m just trying to figure out what happened to me. I’m just trying to be normal.
Even at his size, in that moment, he looked… pathetic. Sad, lonely, desperate. I should have been afraid of him, I know, but there was still a huge part of me that was in love with Man Bun, and I wanted to believe him. I nodded dumbly, unable to formulate words as I took it all in. He sighed heavily.
“Are you going to tell someone?”
I looked at him blankly. “Tell someone what?”
“About me. That I’m here.”
“I don’t know, the police? The embassy?”
Suddenly a hysterical laugh bubbled up in my throat, the product of nerves and shock, and it burst out before I could tamp it down. “Who in the hell would believe me?”
The Winter Soldier shifted on his feet, clearly unsure of what to make of my response. He scrubbed a hand over his face and took a deep breath.
“Look, doll, I just moved into an apartment, and I don’t have the money to relocate again right now. I need to lay low here a little while longer. Can you just… can you keep me a secret? Forget this ever happened? I’ll do anything for you, anything you want, say the word and it’s yours!” Suddenly he had my hands clasped in his and my heart was thudding again, although from fear or excitement, I wasn’t sure. My brain felt like mush as it tried to process all of this information. My mouth moved for a while with no sound coming out, and the soldier looked worriedly into my eyes.
“Do you know how to kickbox?” I asked abruptly.
“I… uh, yeah,” he looked as utterly lost as I felt. “Yeah, I know how to kickbox.”
“If you teach me the basics, I won’t tell on you,” I blurted without thinking. He raised his eyebrows, confused, and huffed out a breath that might have been a laugh.
“Alright then, um, what’s your name?”
“Y/N,” I said. My mouth felt like cotton.
“Y/N,” he repeated with a nod, “I’m Jam–uh, Bucky. You can call me Bucky.” The name seemed unfamiliar on his lips, like he was trying it out for the first time. Or the first time in a long time.
When I had shaken out the worst of my shock, we set to work. Man Bun, or the Winter Soldier, or Bucky taught me the basic kickboxing moves that were the foundations for more complicated configurations. He was gentle and patient, and although I was on edge and more than a little self conscious of the way the skin on my arms jiggled when I jabbed, I caught on quickly to his teaching. Every time he praised me on my form my face felt like it was on fire. Once I had the basic punch moves down, he showed me a few basic kicks, which were a bit harder.
“Not quite,” he critiqued after I tried a kick, “Try putting more of the rest of your body weight behind it instead of just throwing the leg out. With the weight you’ve got behind it, you could probably land a pretty powerful kick.”
I felt my jaw drop at his comment, feeling mortified for a moment before realization dawned on him and his cheeks flamed bright pink.
“Oh, God, no, I didn’t mean… that didn’t come out right,” he fumbled, wringing his hands. “I just meant, your thighs look really good–strong, I mean, they look strong.” He was scarlet now, all the way to the tips of his ears and my stomach did a nauseating somersault. As embarrassed as I was, though, I was charmed by his bumbling, and I couldn’t help a shy smile.
“It’s okay, I know what you meant.” Bucky gave a nervous half-smile in relief, and we kept moving.
As it neared 4:00 in the morning, we decided to call it a night, as the first employees would be in to open the gym at 5:00. Bucky carefully re-hung the punching bag he had knocked from the ceiling as I gathered my things, and we made sure to turn out all of the lights before cautiously creeping out the door and securing it behind us.
“So,” he said, awkwardly shifting on his feet, unable to hold my eye contact.
“So,” I echoed, “I guess we have a deal then. As long as, ya know, you’re not… causing any trouble.”
He smirked a little at that, and then looked around at all of the nearby empty parking spaces. “No car?” he asked, turning back to me.
“No, I walked,” I told him, fidgeting with the strap of my bag.
“I should walk you home,” he said seriously, looking suddenly very concerned. “This time of night, in this neighborhood…”
“Oh,” I practically squeaked, the idea making me nervous for more reasons than one. Do I want The Winter Solder to know where I live? But, on the other hand, he was at least a known quantity, unlike whatever else might be lurking in corners unknown. “Alright, that would be much appreciated.” His hand shot out and I jumped back instinctively, regretting it immediately when I saw the pained look on his face.
“I can carry your bag,” he said, looking at the ground as he held out his metal hand. I felt awful, apologizing softly and thanking him as he tossed the bag over his shoulder.
We set off down the street, quiet for a few paces, but I couldn’t keep my curiosity at bay.
“Why were you there so late?”
“Erm, I don’t really sleep much,” he replied, and I saw him shrug. “Sometimes I sneak in there to blow off a little steam. Can’t really use the punching bags during open hours - I’m a little bit stronger than the average guy.”
A lot-a-bit hotter, too. “Ah, yeah, you usually run.” As soon as the words left my mouth, I realized I had put my foot in it. Fuck.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw his head turn to look at me, an eyebrow cocked. “Yyyeah, that’s right. A bit more subtle.”
I didn’t trust myself to say anything more, so I kept my eyes on the sidewalk and tried to ignore his gaze as we kept walking. I crossed my arms over my round stomach, feeling self-conscious. We walked in silence until we reached the door of my apartment, where I stopped and turned to face him. He held my bag out to me and I took it, my fingers brushing his metal ones for an electrifying moment.
“Well, thanks,” I said lamely, inwardly rolling my eyes at my own awkwardness.
“Thank you, doll.” To my surprise he touched his flesh hand to my chin, forcing my eyes to look up into his. They were as blue as crystal clear lake water reflecting a summer sky, and I was momentarily lost in their depths as he gazed down at me, making heat prickle on my skin. Doll. I could really get used to that.
He dropped his hand and began to turn away. The sky was still dark, but the first tendrils of dawn were beginning to creep their way up over the horizon. Soon the summer sun would bring the morning.
“Hey–Bucky,” I blurted, making him turn back in surprise. “Do… do you like pancakes? I make some pretty mean ones, and I dunno about you, but I’m feeling pretty famished from that workout.” I smiled nervously but warmly, hoping that this wasn’t weird, even though I was pretty sure it was.
Bucky cocked his head curiously at me as a small smile formed on his lips.
“In fact, I happen to love pancakes. Lead the way.”
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