It was supposed to be a simple grocery run. You had done this dozens of times before. The weather was warm, the streets busy but peaceful, and your list was short. Bucky had insisted on coming with you, as he always did, even when you assured him you would be fine alone.

But today, there was something different in the way his shoulders tensed as you walked down the aisles.

You felt his presence behind you, solid and close, as if he was trying to shield you from something invisible. A man at the fruit stand smiled a little too long when you thanked him for handing you an apple, and Bucky’s jaw tightened. Another passerby gave you a second glance, and you could feel the subtle shift in his stance beside you.

You tried to ignore it, filling your basket and chatting softly to distract him. But his responses were short, his mind somewhere else entirely.

By the time you reached home, the quiet between you felt heavier than the bags you carried.

You set the groceries on the kitchen counter and turned to him.

“Bucky,” you said gently, “what’s going on?”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he leaned against the kitchen table, rubbing a hand over his face like he was trying to chase away old ghosts.

“You were tense the entire time we were out,” you pressed, stepping closer. “Talk to me.”

Finally, he looked at you, blue eyes clouded with something deeper than simple jealousy.

“It’s not you,” he said softly, voice rough. “It’s never you. It’s… them.”

You waited.

“I spent too many years surrounded by people who saw everything as a target. Who took whatever they wanted, no matter who it hurt. When I see people looking at you like that…” He broke off, shaking his head. “I can’t turn it off. That part of me, the part that expects the worst from everyone. I know most people are probably harmless, but I can’t help it. You’re… you’re everything to me. I won’t let anyone take you from me. Not again. Not like before.”

His voice cracked slightly on those last words.

You stepped into his arms without hesitation, wrapping yourself around him, feeling his metaI hand rest gently on your back, the other holding you like he might fall apart without you there to steady him.

“I know your past was dark, Bucky,” you whispered against his chest. “But I’m here. I’m safe. And I’m yours.”

He let out a shaky breath, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“I don’t mean to smother you,” he murmured, holding you tighter. “I just… you’re the best thing I’ve ever had. And sometimes I’m scared that if I blink, you’ll be gone.”