Hiii just thought about this
Reader works as lifeguard, it can be in a pool or a beach, and bucky is her husband who loves to admire her from afar even if he's on work or mission. Which cause alot of distraction and hard to get his attention back.
(would be cute seeing bucky being inlove whenever he sees his wife being serious in her job)
lore drop: i was a lifeguard in high school (traumatizing times for lil k)
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When realizes it’s a problem, he’s standing on a mission briefing call with Sam in one ear and Steve pacing somewhere behind him—and he hasn’t heard a single word in the last thirty seconds.
“Buck? You still with me?” Sam’s voice crackles through the comm.
“Yeah,” Bucky answers automatically, even though he’s not. Not even a little.
Because you’re down below him, framed by sun and water and the bright white edge of the lifeguard stand, completely absorbed in your job.
You don’t look like his wife right now—not in the way he’s used to. Not soft and sleepy in the mornings, not laughing on the couch with your legs thrown over his lap, not teasing him over coffee.
No, right now you look focused. Sharp. All straight lines and quick movements, scanning the water with practiced precision. Your sunglasses are perched on your nose, your posture perfect, whistle resting against your collarbone like a promise.
You look… untouchable.
And Bucky can’t stop staring.
“Barnes,” Steve says, a little louder this time, stepping into his line of sight.
Bucky blinks, dragged back into the moment, but it’s delayed, like surfacing from underwater. “What?”
Steve follows his gaze without meaning to—and then huffs, something amused flickering across his face. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Bucky doesn’t even bother denying it. “I’m listening.”
“You’re not,” Sam cuts in immediately. “You’re absolutely not.”
“I am.”
“You just agreed to something I didn’t even say yet.”
Bucky grimaces. “…Okay, maybe I’m not.”
Sam laughs outright. “Man is down catastrophic.”
Bucky ignores him. Mostly because he’s already looking back at you.
There’s something about the way you move when you’re working that does something to him—something deep and instinctive. It’s not just that you look good (though, yeah, you absolutely do in that red lifeguard suit, skin sun-warmed and glowing). It’s the way you take it seriously.
The way your eyes never stop moving.
The way your body is always ready.
The way you don’t hesitate.
A kid jumps off the side of the pool a little too recklessly, and you’re already shifting, watching, calculating. Someone calls out from the shallow end and you’re down from the stand in seconds, jogging over, calm but firm.
Bucky swears his heart stutters.
“Okay,” Sam says, clearly watching this unfold in real time now. “This is worse than I thought.”
“He’s in love,” Steve says simply, like that explains everything.
Bucky scoffs, but it’s weak. “I’m married to her.”
“Yeah,” Sam replies. “And somehow that made it worse.”
Bucky should argue. Should focus. Should drag his attention back to the mission, the plan, literally anything else.
Instead, he leans his forearms on the railing and just… watches.
Because you don’t notice him yet.
You’re too busy, too focused, too good at what you do to spare him even a glance, and for some reason that makes it all the more impossible to look away. You belong to him, yeah—but right now, you belong to this moment. To your job. To the people you’re responsible for.
And God, he loves that.
He loves you soft, he loves you sweet, he loves you half-asleep and curled into him—but this version of you?
This version steals the air straight out of his lungs.
“Buck,” Steve tries again, a little more gently this time. “We need you here.”
“I am here,” Bucky insists, even as his eyes track you crossing the deck again.
“You’re really not.”
Bucky exhales through his nose, scrubbing a hand over his face before forcing himself to look away. It physically hurts a little, like tearing himself out of orbit.
“Fine,” he mutters. “Run it back.”
Sam doesn’t even try to hide the grin in his voice as he starts over. “Alright, Romeo, listen up—”
It lasts maybe a minute.
Two, if he’s being generous.
Your whistle blows.
Bucky’s head snaps up before he can stop himself.
“—you have got to be kidding me,” Sam groans.
Someone’s struggling in the deeper end. It’s not full panic yet, but it’s heading there fast—and before anyone else can even react, you’re already moving.
You dive clean.
The water barely splashes as you cut through it, strong, sure strokes carrying you straight to the kid. Bucky’s entire body goes tight, every instinct screaming at him to jump in after you—even though you don’t need it. Even though you’ve done this a hundred times.
You reach them in seconds, voice calm, hands steady, guiding them back, keeping them afloat.
You’re in control.
You’re always in control.
And when you pull them to the side, helping them out, crouching down to check on them with that same focused concern—Bucky swears something in his chest cracks wide open.
“…Buck?” Steve says, quieter now.
But Bucky doesn’t answer.
Because you’re laughing softly now, reassuring the kid, brushing wet hair out of your face, and then—finally—you glance up.
Right at him.
It’s like the world tilts.
Your whole expression shifts the second you spot him. The sharpness melts, replaced with something warm and familiar and so unmistakably yours that it hits him harder than anything else.
You smile.
And just like that, he’s gone.
“Hi,” you call up to him, shading your eyes with your hand.
Bucky forgets every single word he’s supposed to say into the comm. “Hi,” he echoes, softer, like it’s just for you.
Sam makes a noise that’s somewhere between a laugh and a groan. “Oh my God.”
“You’re working,” you remind him, a little teasing, even from a distance.
“So are you,” he shoots back.
You grin, shaking your head before turning back to your stand, climbing up like nothing just happened.
Like you didn’t just completely derail him, again.
There’s a beat of silence on the comm.
Then Steve sighs, long-suffering. “We’re never getting anything done, are we?”
“Nope,” Sam says immediately.
Bucky doesn’t even try to argue this time.
Because you’re back in your chair, scanning the water again, all focus and purpose—and he already knows exactly how this is going to go.
He’s going to try.
He’s going to fail.
He’s going to fall in love with you all over again every single time you don’t even realize you’re doing it.
