I didn't know I needed these pictures in my life but now that I've seen them I will never be the same...in a good way. @tessas-thompson thank you for posting this 😍
warnings: angst!! eighteen plus only, smut, more angst and more smut. public sex, p in v, oral (f!), daddy kink, nicknames (sweetheart + babygirl), fwb type deal but reader fell in love, slight choking, slight possessiveness
word count: 4k+
a/n: repost! based off of just keep driving by h. styles. feedback and reblogs welcome!
Like clockwork; here you are tangled in the sheets with Bucky at his house. The atmosphere is calm and quiet, the sun shining through his slightly parted black out curtains. It warms the room just a little bit, enough to have you shift under his weight as his head is laying perfectly on your chest and his arms wrapped tightly around your waist. If only you could wake up like this to him every single day.
But you knew that you couldn't and there was no way that you would ever bring up the question. You knew with the way he looked at you in public with a dark lustful look in his eyes that you were just a secret for him. The soft touches on your lower back as he brushes by you when others are around, the way he doesn't ever sit next to you in public settings, because you knew he wouldn't be able to keep his hands to himself. You knew that he wouldn't want to commit, he had never been a guy to ever commit to something once in his life. So what made you think that you'd be the exception?
Your hands ran through his chestnut hair, the curls bouncing down as you released them over and over. Your thumbs smoothed over his forehead, tracing the faint lines embedding in his skin from always being so expressive. You felt his metal hand stretch out underneath and against your back, pressing gently into your skin. He nuzzled his face into your stomach as he leaned down, his beard rubbing against your skin. You could feel a small smile against your skin.
"Mornin', sweetheart." Sweetheart. The nickname that started it all. Something so simple yet so powerful to make your heart swoon in different directions. It was the only name that could remind you that this was all temporary, until he found someone his age to settle down with. Someone that could give him everything and more that he could ever want. You wanted to be that person, but he didn't want what you had to offer.
He hovered over the lower half of your body, propping himself up in his elbows as he kissed down your stomach, right about where the fitting sheet stopped. The warmth from the bottom half of his nude body radiated through the thin cream colored sheets and right to you.
He pulled the sheet down gently, goosebumps rising on your skin in the wake of the thin sheet tickling you, until it was fully off and you were exposed to the air. And to Bucky. He smiled up at you, licking his bottom lip as he kissed your mound, nuzzling his nose for a second before kissing your clit softly.
"Buck.." You gasped gently, sucking in a long breath as he kissed further down until he was laying in between your thighs. He took your thighs and put them over his shoulder, flicking his tongue gently through your folds as he hooked his fingers around you, keeping your hips pressed against the mattress.
He didn't speak, only kept his bright blue eyes on yours as he licked through your folds gently and slowly drawing out the softest whines from you. He thrived off the way you sounded, how you felt and what you tasted like. You were his own personal drug that he couldn't stop taking. He didn't want to share you with anyone; because he knew they wouldn't treat you as good as him.
He was the only one who was allowed to learn your body, to play it the right way. He was the only one you needed.
And yeah, that might sound cocky and controlling, but to you all the red flags just look like flags when you're wearing your rose colored glasses. You refused to see the flaws in Bucky that you knew were damaging. You knew that they would leave a mark on your heart when you would finally take it back. You didn't know when that would be though.
He pulled you closer against him as he nuzzled his face into you, groaning softly against you as his tongue dipped into your dripping core. You weren't going to lie and say that Bucky didn't know how to please you, because he did and you knew he took pride in that. You knew that he felt some sort of way when he knew exactly how to make you cum on his fingers alone.
You let out soft gasps as he sped up, the familiar feeling that Bucky always gave you a few minutes in for assaulting your cunt with his tongue. Your hands found his fingers, gripping them as you tried to raise your hips off the bed for some more friction but he wasn't having it.
"You'll take what I give you, baby. Be a good girl and let daddy taste this sweet cunt, yeah?" Fuck, how could you refuse to listen when he said that to you? You lowered your hips and he smiled against your folds in response, mumbling a soft good girl as he worked a bit faster against your clit. You couldn't help but twist his fingers as you let out a soft moan of his name, his nose nudging your clit harshly as he sucked your folds. You felt the knot snap unexpectedly in your lower stomach, cumming all over his beard and his tongue.
"That's it, babygirl. Taste so fuckin' sweet." He lapped up your juices hungrily, making sure to not waste a single drop. Your thighs were trembling around his head as he hands let go of your hips and rested on your bare thighs, massaging the flesh gently. He let you ride your high on his face before he pulled away, his beard glistening with your slick. His lips were wet and puffy, his eyes dark as he climbed over you and latched his lips onto yours.
You moaned as you tasted yourself, your hands immediately going around his neck to pull him closer as the tip of his cock nudged your clit. You let out a whine against his lips, and all he could do was smile against yours as he pushed the head of his cock into you slowly.
He wanted to be able to never forget the way your cunt feels wrapped around him tightly, how he fits so perfectly.
"You were made for me, baby. Made to take daddy's cock, so fuckin' perfect." He grunted as he pushed all the way in, a moan slipping from your lips as you hid your face his neck, He peppered soft kisses on your collarbone, nipping the skin as tracing his lips the length of the bone before going to the column of your neck so your head moved from the crook of his neck.
He bit on the thin skin, sucking a little mark before kissing up your neck. Between the soft kisses against your skin to the slow but deep thrusts of his cock in your cunt, you were drowning in all things him. His smell crept down your throat to a point where it burned, your skin was ablaze from the kisses, the way his fingertips trailed up and down your sides and how he made sure to make calculated strokes in rhythm with his hands traveling up and down.
You have never felt this consumed by all things him until now, when in the back of your mind you knew you were in love with him. The gentle touches, the soft kisses and whispering sweet nothings while the two of you were tangled limbs together didn't amount to anything outside of his house. It was all empty and broken promises, words and praises.
Yet somehow your heart still chose to believe him.
He nibbled on your ear gently as he sped his thrusts up, hands going to grip your hips gently as he pulled away and looked down at you, his forehead pressing against yours as the stickiness between your two bodies grazed against each other. The sun was beaming through the curtains perfectly on the side of his face, highlighting his cheek bones and the many freckles you traced every single night. The ones where you created your own patterns, making him your personal constellation, one that only you got to see.
His lashes kissed the apple of his cheeks, the faint crease lines around his eyes were seen by the brightness of the sun, but nonetheless made him look breathtaking. You wanted to take your time in memorizing each and every small feature he had, because you never knew when it would be your last.
"My sweet and perfect peach, aren't you?" You nodded up at him as he brushed his nose with yours, his metal hand going in between your bodies, rubbing your clit gently but hard. You clenched around his cock, a groan escaping his lips.
"Need to hear you say it, sweetheart. Tell me you're mine, tell me you'll never leave." His forehead pressed further against yours as he kissed it softly, your cunt gripping him harshly as you came again, moaning his name.
"I-I'm yours Bucky, only yours." Your heart hurt as you spoke, because you knew that you were only in the whispers of the night, where the shadows hid the two of you just perfectly where no one would be able to find you. You almost couldn't say the words, but somehow you managed with a choked moan, hiding the hesitancy deep in your throat.
He came with a moan against your forehead, peppering kisses down the side of your face before meeting your lips with his. He licked your lower lip gently before pulling back, his eyes filled with nothing but adoration, but there was always that hint of lust. Something that would never change to love.
That's how you somehow let him convince you to let him take you away for another vacation. Somewhere farther from anywhere you've ever been with him. In the back of your mind you knew that it would be harder to not say those two words that were always on the tip of your tongue.
It would be a deal breaker, knowing he wouldn't want to hear it.
"The second you feel any different, please tell me." He held your face in his hands as he was standing over you, your back against the counter top in the house. He stayed the night because he had too much to drink during the barbecue your parents hosted. They didn't want him to drive home under the influence and you knew he wanted you with the way he eyed you wearing the soft pastel pink sundress.
You nodded, however. Only wanting the feeling of his lips on yours again, and coming to terms that you only wanted him. You knew it was risky, making out with your dad's best friend in the middle of their kitchen at two am. But the way he touched you, how he spoke to you and the way his voice was sickly sweet like honey, you felt like you were at home.
It was only supposed to be something on occasion, but then it came to a point where he couldn't go without seeing you every few days a week. He couldn't get your touch out of his head, the way you sounded when you came on his cock, and how sultry you looked after he fucked your brains out.
His hand was on your thigh as you drove in silence, occasionally feeling his thumb brush against your skin. Your heart lurches in your chest. Just act normal, you think to yourself. Though you know there isn't any point where all of these touches you've felt from him a million times over, feels different to you.
"You okay?" His voice was soft, but it still made you jump as it broke through the silence. You gulped, not really knowing how to say that you loved him without him turning around and dropping you back at your house to never talk to you again.
The thought of never seeing him again, hearing his voice and feeling his touch is what helped you not let those three words tumble out of your mouth no matter how much you wanted to say it.
You were breaking your own heart by keeping him around. You ignored the countless red flag because there was always a small sliver of hope that he'd change.
But there was no concern for how anything sounded, how sometimes things felt different. Your heart chipped away each and every time he looked away from you in public and focused on another woman in front of him. Just to pull you into his lap at the end of the night and tell you that you were the only one for him. You were the kiss and don't tell.
You nodded anyways, shooting his a tight and small smile. "Just tired, Buck."
He pulls into a hotel, turning the car off and grabbing the luggage all the while helping you out of the car. To everyone else you look like a couple, a happy pair that you so desperately wanted. But on the inside you knew it was just his way to get you and your body all to himself.
He opened the hotel room for you, the balcony windows open and the curtains flowing in the sea breeze wind. It was gorgeous, you could see the sea from your room, the sound of the waves breaking on to the shore calmed your anxieties down a little.
You felt his hands wrap around your waist, pulling you flush to him. You leaned the back of your head against his shoulder, his chin resting on yours as he turns towards your face and kisses your temple. You lean into him just a bit more, afraid he would disappear if your skin wasn't connected with his. He smiled against your temple as he presses his hips into your ass, a soft moan escaping your lips as you feel his hard dick through his jeans.
"Was thinking we could go down to the beach, just you and me. There's a small little place we could go to for privacy." He nibbled your neck as you whispered a soft, please. He smiled again, pulling back and patting your rear gently.
You both quickly got changed, taking a few extra towels as you followed him down through the beach. The sun was close to setting as the two of you left, but the temperature on the beach was warm enough that the loss of the sun's heat didn't make you cold. You held his hand in yours, his eyes occasionally finding yours for a few seconds before looking away again. You didn't know why he was looking at you that way, but you felt something off about him. Unless if was just your worries and the glass of champagne the two of you had before leaving.
You neared a small little mad made pond, separating from the rest of the ocean but still submerged with the sea water. You both got in, finding a seat on his lap as he pulled you against him. His arms wrapped around your waist, your thighs on either side of his and your hands resting gently on his chest.
You examined his face in the moonlight, seeing the same features that you continued to fall in love with on the daily. You could never get tired of looking at his face. He smiled up at you, kissing your chin gently before going to your lips. His fingers trailed up your spine, tugging at the small little knot on the back of your bikini top before taking it out and letting the top fall into the water. It left you nude under the dim light from the moon and his hungry eyes.
"You're so beautiful, sweetheart." He was breathless as he looked up at you. his eyes never leaving yours when he pulled your hips against his. Your lips parted slightly at the sensation, pushing your hands up his chest to his shoulders. For a second as he stared at you, you could feel a small sliver of love in the long gaze he kept with you.
You felt a shift in the air as he stared at you, licking his lips slowly before his metal hand cupped the back of your neck and pulled your lips to his. He couldn't get enough of the way your lips felt on his, how soft they were and how they always sounded so pretty when you were a mess underneath him.
He wasn't sure how he got so lucky to have someone like you in his life, but he knew that he could never let you go. The way the two of you worked so well was something he could never trade anything for. You were his, only his to have and to hold whenever he needed. You had both agreed it was just something to have fun with, something to do casually and it worked so well for him.
But it didn't work for you anymore.
You felt his lips travel down your jaw, nipping slightly before he pulled away. He turned you around so you were facing away from him. He pushed on your lower back gently and you sat forward for him, your hands on his knees as he took his cock out and pushed your panties aside. You lowered yourself on his cock as you felt the tip through your folds, letting out a moan as he stretched you out slowly. His hands were onyour hips guiding you down until you were fully seated on his thick cock.
"Feels divine, baby. Pussy made just for me." His lips kissed the shell of your ear as he pushed up into you and bent you over the side of the man made pond; over looking the sea out in front of you. His hands snaked your front and wrapped around your neck. Only he would think to just choke you with a sea view like this as he pounded into you from the back.
Water splashed withech rough thrust of his hips. You pressed your ass into him to meet his thrusts, but he grew impatient, just wanting to fuck you the way he wanted to. He gripped your throat harsher, letting out a choked moan as you smirked, feeling his other hand gripping your hip.
"Fuck you how I want to, you hear me? You're mine to use however I want, isn't that right sweetheart?" He growled softly, under his breath as he watched the way his cock was swallowed by your cunt. You could only nod as you reach into your bottoms and rub your clit.
He groaned, taking his hand from your neck and gripping your hips as he pounded into you. Your mind was foggy with love and lust, mind hazy as you felt every inch of his cock. You felt him throb inside of you, only making you moan louder. You never wanted to go without the feeling of being filled to the brim of his cock. He called you cockdrunk, and he had never been so right.
"Buck.. shit.." You let out a whine as he smacked your ass, water splashing onto your back. You let him fuck into you, clenching around his cock as he leaned over your back and pressed his chest into you.
"You like that, baby. You're so perfect for me, never letting anyone else have you." You let out a small moan, leaning your head forward as you came around his cock at his words. He hissed as you gripped him, fingers digging into your flesh as he released inside of you. His forehead was pressed against your shoulder, and you felt an immense wave of sadness wash over your body as he panted gently behind you.
He kissed your skin as you let out soft breaths, trying to blink away any tears that might show up. You closed your eyes and let out a soft breath, your heart racing as you spoke three words you swore you'd never utter.
"I love you." You felt Bucky pause, his chest still against your back and his lips still against your shoulder. He didn't move for a second to process what you had just told him. Your heart hammered in your chest and you felt your palms hurting from the anxiety eating away at you with each silent second that passed.
He pulled out, fixing your bathing suit bottom and tucking himself back into his shorts. You grabbed your top and stayed turned from him as you put it back on.
"I-I'm sorry," Your voice was barely above a whisper as you turned towards him, your eyes downcast away from his. You don't know if you were able to look into those eyes you fell in love with after this confession. After he told you there would't be anything else but lust.
"You're kidding, right?" His words cut through you like a knife, your arms wrapping around your waist as you suddenly felt cold despite the warm weather. "What we have is good, it works for us I don't-"
"It works for you, Bucky. Not me, not anymore anyways.." You looked away as you sucked in a breath, looking up at him and seeing the confusion in his eyes, and a look you never thought you'd ever be on the receiving end for: hurt.
Bucky was hurt.
You couldn't understand why he was, not knowing if your confession and the look on his face meant he felt the same or that you betrayed him. It wasn't fair, for him to be hurt when you were dying on the inside. Putting yourself through torture just for a taste of his lips against yours. You were actively stepping on your own heart every single time you said yes to him.
"I don't understand. I don't know what to say." You pursed your lips and nodded. "How long." Your head whipped up to his gaze and you bit your lip. You don't think you were ready to tell him how long you've been in love with him.
"It doesn't matter, you don't feel the same way." You started to get out of the water, passing by him as his hand caught your elbow gently, making you look up at him.
"Please." His eyebrows were furrowed, looking down at you and seeing the gears move in the back in your mind contemplating on if you wanted to tell him. Part of him hoped this was some joke, a prank getting played on him and you'd go to laugh at him. But the other part of him knew this wasn't a joke. He knew that you felt this way about him. He could see the way your eyes changed, how they were softer when looking in his direction, your touches were less rough and needing and more softer and took their time mapping out all of his scars on his back and chest.
"Six months." Your voice was hoarse as you spoke, and that's when you felt your heart rip itself to shreds when it dawned on you how long you were in love with Bucky. How long you have been deliberately putting yourself through hell for a man who wouldn't do the same.
He let go of you elbow as you got out all the way and grabbed a towel, biting your lip and going back up to the hotel. You quickly grabbed your items and went to the front desk, asking for a room.
You didn't hear from Bucky that night, not when you left the next morning and you saw his car was already gone. Not for the next few weeks. He stopped coming by, stopped texting, stopped calling to a point where your father even asked if he was okay. You only shrugged, not really wanting to talk about it.
You were too busy nurturing your broken heart, what was left of it anyways. He took some pieces away with him when he left the hotel that night.
Pairing: Firefighter!Bucky x F!Plus Size!Adopted Rogers!Reader
WC: 9.3k (LOL)
Summary: After returning home from a failed career as an artist in LA, you are reunited with the boy next door who has always owned a piece of your heart, and there’s no running from each other this time.
Chapter Note: Who wants to cry???? No one??? Just me??? Okay but the end though. :)
Chapter Warnings: Angsttt! Angst! But then :)
Series Masterlist / Series Playlist
EIGHTEEN YEARS OLD (pt. 3)
Warm air hitting the back of your neck was what woke you. Breathing, coming from the hard chest your back was pressed to. The sensation of weight over your midsection caused your eyes to shoot open, and you looked down to see a muscular arm wrapped around your soft stomach.
For so long, the dream of Bucky touching your large body seemed like more of a nightmare, something you craved but also deeply feared, not wanting him to know what you felt like when touched in such an intimate way.
Now that the dream was a reality, you felt an overwhelming sense of peace, like this was exactly where you needed to be. Bucky’s arm melted into the soft rolls of your skin, no sense of rigidness or discomfort within his hold on you. In fact, the sensation felt more like he was holding you to him as tightly as possible, as if anchoring himself to you.
You moved a hand to rest over him, fingers tracing along his forearm, feeling the various veins throughout and creating shapes with his freckles, barely grazing the swollen skin of his knuckles.
In this moment, there was no John, no Dot, no plane taking Bucky to basic training, no RISD. It was just you and the boy next door. Bucky and Oak, holding one another and willing time to stand still.
But time did not listen, and Bucky let out a soft groan as sleep slowly left him. You shifted so that you could look at him, to see what his blue eyes looked like as they opened to the new day.
They were soft, peaceful, as if still carrying remnants of whatever dream carried them through the night.
As soon as they found yours, the corners of his eyes crinkled and he smiled.
“Morning, Oak.” His arm squeezed around you, as if checking to make sure you were real.
You smiled back. “Morning, Bucky.”
The two of you stayed like that for a few more minutes in silence, not wanting the moment to end. But then you pulled your phone from the night stand and jumped to sitting at the 56 missed messages and 10 calls.
Most were from Sarah and Steve checking in on you, with a couple from John sent this morning apologizing and asking if you could talk.
You ignored John, and texted Steve and Sarah to let them know you were okay.
Sarah: I heard what John did. What an asshole. I’m sorry babe you’re better off though <3
You: Thanks babe. You’re right, maybe I do deserve better…
Someone like the man sitting next to me.
Steve: U better get home soon, sis. Mom keeps calling me worrying cuz she hasn’t heard from u and she’s debating calling ur college to make sure they ground u ur entire freshman year.
You groaned, standing up and Bucky followed suit.
“I gotta go before I face the wrath of Sarah Rogers.”
Bucky chuckled, hands raised in the air. “Say no more. I wouldn’t wish that woman’s anger on my worst enemy. Well, maybe one asshole.”
John. The guy you could honestly care less about at the moment. Not while one who had always meant so much more - even when you were too scared to admit it - stood before you, possibly feeling the same way you did.
You shifted on your feet, looking at the ground. “Well, I should get going. Thanks again for last night. For everything-”
“Can I call you later?” Bucky blurted out, causing your eyes to snap back to his. He looked so…nervous? Face pink, hand pressed against the back of his neck, eyes darting between yours and other spots in the room. Yes, Bucky Barnes looked nervous. “I mean, if that’s okay with you. Just to talk.”
You nodded, smiling up at him. You were pretty sure that your feet were floating above the ground with how elated you felt. “I’d like that.”
He nodded back, smiling before reaching out for one more hug. You allowed his fresh linen and cedar scent to fill you, etching the memory of last night and this morning into your brain forever, letting your brain register his arms around you to be your home.
Bucky would be gone in two days, off to basic and then who knew how long he would be away after that. You were headed off to college in a few months. Whatever was forming between you two would be hard. But you knew without a shred of doubt that it would be worth it.
You would have phones once he was done with basic training. You could facetime, text, call, maybe even write letters. You would make it work. Whatever it took to keep him in your life.
When he pulled back, he kept one arm around you, but his left hand reached up to cup your face, thumb stroking your cheek. His eyes bore into yours while you got lost in the infinite shades of blue found in his.
I’ll never be able to find the shades to capture them perfectly, but I still need to try and paint them someday.
Bucky smiled, leaning forward until his lips pressed against your forehead and lingering there for a few seconds. Your eyes closed at the feel of his soft lips, convinced that his arms around you were the only thing keeping you on the ground.
His lips hovered against your skin as he whispered, “My beautiful Oak.”
You were his. Always had been. Always would be.
He took your hand as he pulled away, guiding you down the hallway and putting his finger over his lips to signify to be quiet as you crept down the stairs.
Winnie was humming to herself in the kitchen as she sat at the island, her back to you, thick chestnut hair thrown in a messy bun, cheek resting on one hand while the other held a mug of coffee as she read her book.
Bucky turned to you with a small nod, then made one step toward the basement stairs where he could guide you out the back door-
“James?” Winnie called out softly, her back still toward you.
Bucky froze, hand squeezing yours as his eyes went wide. He cleared his throat and responded in as cool a tone as possible, “Yes, Ma?”
Winnie took a sip of coffee before responding. “I haven’t been to the basement yet today, but I hope it’ll look nice and clean by the time I get back from running errands this afternoon, okay?”
He nodded, even though she couldn’t see him. He looked to you and nodded, pulling your hand to continue your way to the basement. “You got it, Ma. Heading down there right now.”
“Thanks, baby.” Bucky let out a silent sigh and smiled, then took another step with you in tow. “Oh, and Y/n?”
The two of you froze again, Bucky’s eyes somehow even more wide. You imagined yours looked the same and you swallowed the knot in your throat. “Morning, Winnie,” you called out in a weak voice.
“Hang out for a second, will ya?” With that request, she finally turned her head to look at you, a knowing smile on her face.
You nodded, giving Bucky’s helpless face one last look before squeezing his hand and walking to the kitchen. He stared at you for a moment before shaking his head and running down the basement stairs.
Winnie stood up as you approached the island, your fingers anxiously tapping along the counter. She took one last sip of her coffee then walked to put it in the sink. When she turned, she rested against the countertop and crossed her arms around her, brows raised.
Then, her face softened and she smiled, and you saw a fresh sheen of tears cover her eyes as she looked at you.
“I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life, Y/n, and many, many regrets. Probably the biggest one will be the night Bucky’s dad left, and the look on my son’s face after his father had hi-” her lips pressed into a thin line and she shook her head before continuing, looking up at the ceiling for a second to prevent the tears from falling. “And then not knowing where he had gone all day? Thinking that I had lost him too, because I couldn’t protect him? It was the worst moment of my life as a mother. The worst.”
She took a few steps forward until she reached out to hold your face in your hands, her smile returning.
“And then the front door to your house opened, and in came you hand holding onto my James’s, guiding him inside. He still looked tired and scared, but then you looked back at him with a smile to tell him that everything would be okay, and he smiled back like he believed you.” Her thumb wiped away a tear that fell down your cheek. “And though I have made many mistakes and have many regrets, I’ll never regret moving to this house so that my son could have you in his life.”
Before the two of you could turn into blubbering messes, you pulled Winnie in for a tight embrace, inhaling her comforting lavender scent. And if you could form any rational thoughts in this moment, you would tell her that you felt the same, that the family you had created would be something you would always cherish, always be grateful for.
Instead, you went with something simple, and you hoped it would be enough.
“I love you, Winnie,” you whispered into her chest.
Winnie squeezed you tighter. “I love you too, baby.” She pulled back to wipe more tears from your face. “And if my James does anything to mess this thing up, I’m gonna whoop that boy's ass.”
You barked out a laugh, shaking your head as you muttered, “So that’s who he gets it from…”
Your mom only grounded you for the rest of the week, but you were allowed to hold onto your phone and spent the rest of the day in your room on the phone with Sarah, sharing all of the details from last night.
Even the ones with Bucky.
“Oh my GOD??” Sarah screamed, and you winced as the sudden noise destroyed your eardrum, but that didn’t stop you from giggling at her response. “Can I just say fucking finally? The mutual pining between you was getting so angsty and I was getting ready to knock some sense into the both of you.”
“I had no idea he felt that way. I mean, you know I’ve always had a small-” Sarah snorted and you rolled your eyes, “Okay fine, massive crush on him.”
“Babe, that guy is so far gone for you it’s not even funny. Whenever you and John had your cute moments or whatever, I’d look over to Bucky and he’d have these sad puppy dog eyes.”
You scoffed. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Listen, Y/n, you deserve someone who is actively going to pursue you. Not the way Walker did where he basically thought of you as prey. I didn’t want to do the middle school thing of acting as messenger between you and your crush. If Bucky liked you enough, I knew he would say something. Took longer than expected and his timing is horrible but thank fucking God.”
You smiled, lifting your arm to your nose and inhaling Bucky’s scent from his shirt that you were still wearing. “You’re the best Sarah. I still can’t believe it’s real.”
“So what happens now?”
“He said he’d call me later. I don’t know if he wants to talk about what this means with college and army-” You looked out your window to Bucky’s house and froze, eyebrows furrowing at the familiar looking truck in the driveway. A truck you hadn’t seen in seven years, and a just as familiar figure behind the wheel pulling out and driving away. “Sarah, can I call you back?”
You said your goodbyes and hung up, eyes glued to the Barnes’s house, anxiety pouring through you.
You turned your attention back to your phone and shot a quick text to Bucky.
You: Everything okay? Was that your dad?
No response.
The curtains to Bucky’s room were closed, so you had no way to see if he was home or not.
So you sat there, staring at the window with your phone in your hand, praying that he would appear.
Hours passed, the sun had set, and you caught the outline of light peak through the curtain in Bucky’s bedroom when your phone buzzed, causing you to jump out of your stupor. You then almost threw your phone into the air when you saw his name on the screen. After finally regaining your composure, you took a deep breath, then answered the phone.
“Hey, Buck.”
“Hey, Oak.”
His voice was lifeless, tone completely different from that morning.
“Are you okay? I saw the truck outside- I mean, do you want to talk about it?”
A silhouette appeared at the window, positioned as if the figure were staring right at you.
“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”
Your hand rested on the window, desperately wishing you could see his face. “Okay, well I’m here if you need me. I mean, it’s the least I can do after last night, but also because I want to be there for you.”
Silence. It was the loudest silence you had ever experienced in your life.
“Y/n.” Your breath hitched at him not using your nickname, and not in a good way. You suddenly felt like you might be sick. “Last night was a mistake. We should just forget about it.”
It felt like you had just been punched in the gut while your heart was also being ripped in two, and your hand lowered to grip onto the edge of your bed. “Oh.” Your voice was a whisper.
“It just doesn’t make sense.” Why was he saying this? How could he say such things with no emotion after wearing his heart on his sleeve less than 24 hours ago?
“Did something happen with your dad-”
“Stop.” His voice was harsh and you winced. He had never spoken to you like this. “Stop trying to get involved. I don’t want you involved.”
Your heart was no longer ripped in two. It was shattered into a million pieces. “Okay. If that’s what you want.”
He sighed. “I’m sorry. It was all a mistake. You’re my best friend’s sister, I’m leaving tomorrow, and you’re going to college in a few months.” Finally, some semblance of emotion broke through his voice and Bucky sounded pained as he continued, “It’s just not worth it.”
You’re just not worth it.
You stared at the silhouette, as if you could somehow look into Bucky’s eyes and try to read whatever was going on behind them. But it was just a dark figure, inflicting more pain than you had ever felt in your life.
“I get it,” you whispered. You forced a smile toward the figure. “Thanks for letting me know.”
Another booming pause. Another deep breath. “Goodbye, Oak.”
Tears streamed down your face and you closed your own curtain. “Bye, Bucky.”
You hung up, then curled into a ball on your bed, staring at the wall as Bucky’s voice echoed in your mind.
Not worth it.
Mistake.
Not worth it.
NOW
You woke to the feeling of heavy lids and a massive headache, the remnants of your tears on the damp pillow.
Your eyes slotted open to see light coming from your window, and you slowly shifted to check your phone.
50 messages from Sarah, Steve, your mom, and Bucky
10 missed calls from Sarah, Steve, your mom, and Bucky.
You texted Sarah, Steve, and your mom to let them know you were okay and that you were taking the day to rest, blaming the pain medications. You’d call them later.
Then, you covered your face with your blankets and let sleep pull you under once more.
Mom got home three days later, and you almost forgot to put the jeep in park before jumping out and running into her comforting embrace at the airport.
She held you for what felt like minutes, both of you clinging to one another, and there was no shame felt as tears streamed down your face. It was safe in her arms, and you could finally let go of some of the pain you had been holding on to ever since that night.
Seeing Brock, the fire, the fight with Bucky….
She didn’t ask any questions, just kissed your forehead and told you that it was going to be okay, that she was here now. It was everything you needed and more.
Sarah was nice enough to keep paying you even while the bar was closed, but you refused to take any money without doing some sort of work, especially with the guilt caused by the slightest chance that it was all because of your psycho ex. You alternated between cleaning out the debris from the wreckage and ordering replacement inventory and other equipment/furniture that had sustained too much damage.
Since Sam and Sersi were home for Thanksgiving, they were able to be much more hands on with taking care of legal issues and insurance claims. Sersi’s hotshot government job apparently dealt a lot with the law so she had been a huge help with making sure everything with Wilson’s was taken care of.
However, though she was a badass genius, she unfortunately wasn’t a miracle worker.
“As of right now, I can’t do anything about your medical bills,” she said with a sympathetic expression. “If we knew who committed arson, then we could make them pay it, but we still have no leads on who attacked the bar, so I’m sorry Y/n, but until then, you’re responsible for them. I can try to file for an extension, but interest and fees will end up being a bitch and you’ll end up owing double what you do now.”
You nodded, trying to fight back tears. You had done your best to try to save up as much money as possible so you could move into a place of your own, but your shit insurance barely covered the bill for the ambulance ride and ER visit. Steve and Nat offered to help pay, but you refused before they could even finish. They were saving up for the wedding and to hopefully buy a house for themselves in the next year, there was no way you were going to take any of that away from them.
Hopefully your mom would be okay with having a roommate for a little while longer.
Sunday dinners continued, and Bucky still showed up with a baked good in hand. It would have been impossible for him to get out of that, seeing that he had been attending every week for years and couldn’t use work as an excuse because Steve would have been able to call bullshit on that. Besides, Bucky was a part of your family whether you wanted him to be or not. You weren’t going to let your broken heart stand between your brother’s and your mom’s love for him.
Bucky was in your life, forever, and you were going to have to learn to live with that.
The first dinner was painfully awkward, both of you avoiding one another like the plague. If the others noticed, they didn’t say anything about the way you two avoided eye contact or hardly spoke to one another the entire night. Once dinner was done and mom went upstairs to bed, instead of hanging out in the living room as per usual, Bucky grumbled something about needing to go home to check on stuff. Steve tried to protest but Bucky was out the door before he could even get a word out.
The next Sunday was no different, but this time you noticed Steve and Nat giving you both looks of confusion at the fact that the awkwardness wasn’t looking like a one-time thing.
Still, they said nothing when Bucky made another lame excuse to leave as soon as dinner was over.
No, Steve waited until a few days later, where he paid you a surprise visit at the bar. You were sitting in one of the undamaged booths, researching prices on barstools.
He sat in the seat across from you, a small smile on his face. “Can we talk?” he asked, and you gave him a skeptical nod. His head cocked to the side at the remnants of the bar. “Anything in there that we can pull from?”
You laughed, then walked over to grab two bottles of the cider you knew Steve liked. Some of the alcohol had survived the fire, and Sarah said it was fair game to drink, seeing that everything needed to be replaced according to the Board of Health who said it was illegal to sell consumable products that had possibly been affected by a fire. Not that you needed any real sort of validation for the permission to drink while hanging out at the place that you almost died in.
Steve gave you a small nod as he took the drink from you, taking a sip while you sat down.
“Is it weird being here?” he asked. “Like, does it make you anxious at all?”
You looked around at the space, filled with boxes and plywood instead of friendly faces and dirty dishes for you to clean. “Yes….and yes, and sometimes I really hate it when I’m here by myself. But I can’t just ignore my responsibilities because it makes me uncomfortable.”
Steve gave you a look, and then snorted, taking another sip of cider. You glared at him.
“What?”
He shrugged, twisting the bottle around in his hands once he rested it back on the table. “Nothing. I mean,” his expression softened, “It’s funny that you’re talking about not ignoring things that make you uncomfortable when that’s what you and Bucky have been doing for weeks.”
Your bastard of a brother just had to wait until your drink had just traveled down your throat to say that, and your shock from the abruptness caused the liquid to explode through your insides as a massive coughing fit ensued. You rested your hand on your chest until your breathing evened back out and you stared at him.
He grimaced. “Sorry. Didn’t know you’d be that dramatic about it.”
“What….what are you talking about?”
Steve gave you another knowing look, staring at you in an uncomfortable silence until you were forced to stare at the label of your drink.
“Y/n, I’m your brother. I know everything.” Even in your discomfort, you still found it in you to roll your eyes and he scoffed. “Okay, just because I don’t acknowledge everything I see doesn’t mean I don’t notice what’s going on! I like to be the silent observer when I can be and watch things play out. But clearly you and Bucky need some help and I’m finally forced to step in.”
You shook your head, anguish flooding your chest. “Steve, you don’t have to worry about Bucky and me. There’s nothing- he doesn’t- it’s nothing.”
Steve took a deep breath, looking at the table as he gathered the thoughts he had apparently been holding onto for quite a while. Then, his eyes met yours again.
“I’ve always felt so lucky to have a family like ours. I would have been more than grateful to just have you and Ma in my life, but getting a friend like Bucky and a partner like Nat? I don’t know what I did to deserve such great people to love and be loved by. Getting to grow up next door to my best friend and have him be more like a brother? The fucking dream. And the three of us getting to be as close as we were was just so….awesome. I trusted Bucky with not only my life, but yours as well.
“A part of me has probably always known that it was different for the two of you. I’ll never forget the first time I noticed you light up when he called you ‘Oak,’ or the smile on his face whenever you laughed at one of his stupid jokes. I think the big brother in me wanted to ignore any possibility that it could be more than some sibling dynamic. It was…well, looking back now, it reminded me of how Bucky described the way I looked when I first met Nat. Like I had found the person who didn’t make my life whole, but added to what I already had in a way that made it feel like I could take on the world.”
You started pulling at the label on your bottle, eyes still locked on Steve’s as he continued.
“That day after the party before Bucky left, he called me while I was heading home from Nat’s. There was something in his voice that I had never heard before from my best friend. It was like he was truly walking on air. He told me he was calling to let me know that he wanted to date you, that he had for quite some time now. And not in a way that he was asking for permission, because that’s not mine to give when it comes to your life. He just…wanted to make sure that I would be cool with it.”
The label was halfway off the bottle now, and you felt like you were having a hard time getting air into your lungs. “What did you say?”
Steve chuckled. “I told him that it was about damn time, and that if he hurt you I’d kick his ass so hard he’d be showing up to basic training in a wheelchair.”
You wanted to laugh, but the knowledge of what came next turned the laughter into a lump in your throat.
He sighed. “Which, of course, was what happened. He hurt you and I was fucking pissed. I never told you this, but I didn’t talk to him for a few months, even after he was done with basic and had access to phones again. I love Bucky like a brother, but I wasn’t sure I could forgive him for hurting my baby sister, for hurting you.”
The label was fully off now, and you started rolling pieces of it into little balls.
“As you know, we worked it out eventually, and things with us are cool. It took him a while to finally explain himself, and I desperately wish he had done so that day instead of creating this entire shitshow that is still hurting the both of you. But unfortunately my best friend is kind of a clueless idiot who sometimes has a hard time expressing his emotions.”
This time, you managed to breathe out a small laugh, and Steve smiled at the reaction. Then, he leaned forward, taking your hand and giving you a serious expression that made you still.
“I love you so much, Y/n. You are my family forever and always, and I would do anything for you. And I’m so sorry that Bucky hurt you and for all of the shit you’ve been through over the years with John and Brock and all everything else that I failed to protect you from,” his voice cracked ever so slightly and he cleared his throat as tears stung your eyes. “I will always be here if you need anything, you or Mom. You’re my people, and I will stop at nothing to make sure you are protected and safe and happy.” He let go of your hand and leaned back against the booth. “I know that what happened with him sucked, and you have every right to stay upset with him based on what you know about the situation. The thing is, there’s a lot more to the story that Bucky hasn’t told you. It’s not my place to say those things, though, only his. I really think you should hear him out, and hopefully he can find it in that thick skull of his the right words to explain it all so that you can understand where he was coming from. It by no means excuses what he did, but I think it would at least give you peace about it.”
He took one last drink of cider, placing it down on the table, then stood up. As he walked past you toward the door he stopped to place a kiss to the crown of your head.
“I promise I’m not saying this in the hopes of him someday becoming my brother legally, but you and Bucky? That always made sense to me, even when I couldn’t fully understand it. It still does.”
With that, your brother walked out of the bar, leaving you sitting by yourself in a complete state of shock and confusion, brain going a million miles an hour.
You left Wilson’s once you noticed the sun starting to set, not ready to hang out at the bar at night by yourself.
Your brain had been whirring ever since you talked to Steve, and you still couldn’t organize your thoughts in a way to make sense of everything he said. The rest of your time at work was spent staring blankly at your laptop, unable to form any coherent thoughts that might allow you to get anything done.
When you pulled into your driveway, you caught sight of Bucky’s truck at his house, and a pit formed in your stomach. Steve told you to try and talk to him, but you weren’t sure you were quite ready for that step. If you’d ever be ready.
You sighed, staring into your eyes in the rearview mirror of the jeep, as if trying to separate yourself from your mind for even just a moment to possibly calm your thoughts.
It didn’t work, and after a few minutes of staring, you opened the door and made your way inside.
But before you made it to the front door, a soft sound caught your ear from behind.
It was faint, coming from some sort of animal, but you could tell that it wasn’t a bird or a squirrel.
It almost sounded like….a meow?
The sound came again, and your eyes shot over to Big Oaky as you headed over to stand at the base of the tree.
Mew, the sound came again and you scanned through the branches.
Then, 20 or so feet above, you saw it.
A small, white ball of fur, its wide eyes staring down at you as another meow erupted from its tiny little body.
“Hey there little guy,” you cooed, trying to calm it down as its legs anxiously moved on the branch, unsure of how to get down. “How did you get up there?”
Mew.
You frowned, looking for a possible path for the cat to climb down, but how on earth could you direct an animal to climb down a damn tree?
No, there was only one way to make sure it got down safely. You sighed, staring at the closest branch of Big Oaky.
There was no way in hell that you’d be able to climb this tree. It had been well over a decade since you had tried, and if you attempted to now you would most likely lose your grip and fall and hurt yourself. Or your weight would break a branch and you would fall and hurt yourself. Or-
Mew. The cat jumped to another branch and barely made it, the bottom half of its body swinging in midair, front paws clinging to the spot it landed for dear life until it scrambled up to stand.
Your stomach dropped to the ground in fear, and you realized then that you were not going to sit by and watch the cat fall in the hopes that you might catch it.
You took a deep breath, rolling up your sleeves and psyching yourself up.
“Alright, Y/n. You are the Queen of Big Oaky. You got this.”
You reached for the closest branch, rested one foot on the trunk, and pulled yourself up.
Oof.
It took a lot of effort, but eventually you got up to the next branch. Then the next. And the next, keeping your focus on the path of branches you had climbed so many times.
The cat’s meows became louder and more frequent the closer you got, as if cheering you on as you slowly made your ascent. Your brow was covered in sweat, you were making these horrific grunting sounds as you heaved yourself up, your arms were jelly, and it felt as if your heart might give out. Still, you climbed.
And then, the cat was right there in front of you, wide blue eyes staring into yours. You stabilized yourself on one of the thick branches and slowly extended a hand to the furball, who rubbed their face against it with a loud purr.
You chuckled. “Hey there, buddy. Looks like you were pretty close to claiming my title, but let’s get you to the ground before you try to go up any higher, okay? I don’t think I’d be able to make it to the top these days.”
The cat purred in response, and you picked them up, tucking them into your side.
That’s when you realized that climbing down with only one arm was going to make this whole process even more difficult.
Some might even say impossible, but you had to try.
“Alright kitty, let’s try this-” you tried to lean down to a lower branch, but lost balance, clinging to the one closest to you before gravity could get any ideas. “Shit.”
“Y/n?” The familiar voice almost made your grip on the branch give out entirely, but you forced yourself to hold onto it as you looked down to meet the worried and slightly confused gaze of Bucky.
You gave him a small smile. “Heyyyy, Buck,” you said, attempting to sound casual.
He frowned. “Are you okay? What are you doing up there?”
You looked at the cat. “Well, you said that I might have what it takes to be a firefighter, right? Figured I’d start training by saving a cat from a tree.”
He stared at you, not able to find anything funny about the worry coursing through his veins. He reached out for a branch. “Hold on, I’m coming up.”
Bucky’s arms bulged through his jacket as he climbed up the tree, and there was only a faint sheen of sweat on his forehead as he got closer and closer to you. He made it all seem so effortless and you fought back the urge to roll your eyes at how stupidly hot he looked.
Once he was only a few feet away, he extended an arm out. “Hand me the cat and I’ll bring them down, then I’ll come and get you.”
You looked at the cat. “Don’t scratch him, okay? He’s not as bad as he seems I promise.”
Bucky gave you a small smile as you kissed the cat’s head and handed it to him. He tucked the cat into him and quickly climbed down to the ground.
This time, you did roll your eyes. Show off.
Bucky set the cat down, readying himself to climb back up. “Alright, I’m coming to get you!”
You shook your head, grabbing a branch with your now free hand. “I got this now, Buck. I can do this.”
You weren’t sure if you were saying that to him or yourself, but before he could even respond you were climbing down. It was nowhere near as fast and graceful as his descent, but eventually your feet were stumbling onto solid ground, and Bucky reached out to hold you steady.
Just like every moment before, everything in the background seemed to fade away as the two of you stood so close to one another. Bucky appeared to be in no hurry to let go of his hold on you, just staring into your eyes with a small smile.
It broke your heart when you realized that the smile came nowhere close to reaching his eyes. Behind those ocean blue irises was a storm of sadness, one that you knew you were partially responsible for.
He was the first to break his gaze, most likely not wanting to overstep whatever boundaries you may have decided to set with him. His arms dropped to his sides and he stared down at the ground where the small white cat rubbed in between both of your legs.
This time, when Bucky smiled, you saw his eyes crinkle in the corner, and you couldn’t help but smile back as you watched him bend down and scoop the kitty up, scratching underneath its neck which resulted in the loudest purrs you had ever heard come from such a small body.
“Well, consider yourself officially hired as a deputy firefighter,” Bucky said. “Hopefully Alpine will have learned her lesson and won’t try to face Big Oaky on her own again.”
Your brows furrowed and a larger smile tugged at your lips. “Her? Alpine? You know this crazy furball?”
A blush crept up his face as he let out a small chuckle. “Yeah. I uh, she’s a stray who likes to hang out around my place. I started leaving food for her outside, but sometimes she likes to come into the garage and sleep on a bed I got her. You know,” he muttered, free hand reaching up to scratch the back of his neck, “It’s gonna keep getting colder.”
You laughed. “So…you have a cat.”
He opened his mouth as if to protest, but before he could speak, Alpine let out a loud meow, as if speaking for him, and the two of you burst out laughing.
“Well,” you said, wiping tears from your eyes once your laughter died down, “Congratulations on your new fur baby, Buck. She sure is a cutie.”
Then, as if unable to contain herself anymore, Alpine jumped out of Bucky’s hold and into your arms, rubbing her head against your chin as you giggled at the affection you were receiving. You caught Bucky’s eyes light up brighter than ever before, laughing along with you.
“I guess she likes me,” you said, kissing the top of her soft head.
Bucky nodded with a soft smile. “Hard not to,” he breathed out.
An uncomfortable silence followed. Bucky nodded back toward his house, reaching an arm out to grab Alpine. “Well, I guess we should get hom-”
“Can we talk?” you asked, tightening your grip every so slightly on Alpine, not ready to let her go. Bucky’s arm froze in place, eyes wide from the unexpected request. Once he finally managed to process your words, he nodded his head slowly.
You nodded back, then looked over at your house where Mom’s car was parked in the driveway. Turning back to Bucky, you asked, “Can we go to your place actually? I’d love for us to be alone for this.”
He cleared his throat, head continuing to bob up and down for a few seconds before he extended his arm out toward his house, gesturing for you to lead the way as he followed in tow.
It was the first time you had stepped into the Barnes’s household since you had come home, since Winnie had passed. As soon as you took one step inside you stood in the entryway, hundreds of memories of growing up in this house flooding through your mind. Sunday dinners, Thanksgivings, Christmases, Winnie painting your nails while the boys were at football practice and your mom was at work.
She was still everywhere, so much so that you could have sworn that there was a lingering scent of lavender in the air, and her presence brought the sting of tears to your eyes.
Bucky rummaged through one of his closets in the kitchen, then pulled out what looked like a small Go-Gurt tube, extending it your way. Alpine started going feral in your arms, wiggling and purring like a madwoman. You walked over to the kitchen island where Bucky stood so that she didn’t leap out of your arms.
Bucky grinned, scrunching his nose at Alpine as he tore open the tube, squeezing out a fishy smelling paste. Alpine lurched forward, and you had to move with her so that she didn’t fall to the ground as she reached to lick the paste.
“She’s obsessed with these,” he murmured, a small smile cemented on his face while staring adoringly at the cat.
“So much for her being a stray, Buck. I’m pretty sure Alpine is completely domesticated at this point.” You lifted your chin to gesture at the cat tower in his living room. He shrugged, no longer able to deny the fact that he was this fur child’s father.
The distance between you closed in once again, arms brushing against each other as Alpine continued inhaling the treat. At one point, Bucky’s hand brushed against yours and you had to hold back a gasp. It still felt so new, every time he touched you. Like it was the first time you had experienced the electric current that traveled down your body whenever it happened, even though it wasn’t.
Alpine finished the cat Go-Gurt in what felt like seconds, and afterward was no longer interested in being contained within your hold, so she wriggled out until you got the hint and lowered her to the ground, where she ran to the cat tower, circling a few times before laying down to take a nap.
“I’m obsessed with her,” you said. “If you ever need a cat sitter I demand that you call me first.”
Bucky chuckled. “You got it, Oak.”
More silence. You were still standing close to each other, and now there was no Alpine to use as an excuse for the proximity. Still, you stayed.
“So,” Bucky started, scratching the scruff on his jaw, “You wanted to talk?”
You nodded, fiddling with your hands in front of you. “Yeah. I uh, I wanted to apologize for the other week. How I acted the night….or morning after everything happened. I overreacted and should have given you a chance to speak.”
He shook his head. “No. You have no need to apologize. I’ve been the one fucking everything up for years. And when I tried to finally talk about it, I couldn’t, like a coward. Because I was too afraid of what you would think of me, even though that resulted in you thinking the worst of me anyways, so my efforts were shit.” He let out a bitter chuckle.
“Well,” you stuck your hands in your pockets and shifted your weight between the balls of your feet and your heels, “I’m here now, and if you can, I would really, really love to hear your side of the story. All of it, Buck.”
You saw his Adam’s apple bob up and down, and then his mouth opened and closed a few times, still unable to find the right words. Finally, he let out a long breath, and held up a finger. “Can you hold on a second?”
When you said yes he flashed by you and up the stairs, returning after a few seconds with a picture frame in hand. He extended it to you and you felt your stomach turn into knots.
It was a picture of Bucky, wearing black slacks and a light blue button up, his arm wrapped around a young blond woman with blue eyes wearing a graduation uniform. They were smiling, and Bucky looked like he had been caught mid-laugh.
It was the same girl who called him the other night, and all of the pain you felt then started to resurface-
“This is Becca,” Bucky said, stating what you already knew. Then, he took another deep breath before he went on. “My sister.”
Your head shot up to meet his eyes, then continued to flicker between the photo and him for a few moments as your brain began to short-circuit.
“Your…your sister?”
He nodded. “Yeah. She graduated from high school last year, and goes to college at NYU.”
You tried to respond, to make some sort of comment, but your brain was totally incapable of forming thoughts, let alone words. So Bucky continued.
“That day after the party, my old man stopped by to tell me that I had a sister. Half-sister, that is. He said that he had been feeling sentimental or some shit and wanted to let me know about this family I apparently had. Then he told me how old she was, and the math added up to mean that she had been born while he and my mom were still together.”
Nausea flooded your stomach, and you started scratching at the pads of your fingertips to try to calm yourself.
“I was so confused, and so pissed when he told me that. The fact that I had this sister that I didn’t know about, that he was even shittier than I ever thought could be humanly possible, and that he had disrespected my mom so horribly when she had stuck with him as long as she did. It was too much, and I shut down.”
The lifelessness in his tone during that phone call years ago echoed in your mind, and you finally broke free of your silent spell. “That’s when you called me.”
He nodded, mouth pressed in a thin line. “That’s when I called you, and probably made the worst decision of my whole fucking life. I thought that….” he sighed, looking at the ground and shaking his head. “I thought that it would be best for you.” He looked up, the tempest within his blue eyes boring into you. “I didn’t want you to have to get caught up in my mess. And honestly? A part of me was terrified that I was going to end up like him, and become this monster that hurt everyone I cared about. I didn’t think I would be worth that risk.”
Your blood turned cold as everything locked into place.
“Not worth it.”
Bucky had never been talking about you. He had never meant that you weren’t worth it.
He was saying that he wasn’t worth it.
Unable to control yourself, you reached a hand out to rest on Bucky’s forearm, heart breaking for the twenty-year-old boy who had had his whole life turned upside down in an instant. Who had thought that he wasn’t worth loving. “Bucky…”
“I didn’t want you to be tied down by my shit,” he continued, “Not when you deserved- deserve the world. You are everything good on this earth, Y/n, and the idea that I could hold you back in any way made me want to run as far away as fucking possible and never come back so that it could never happen. Which is what I did. I ran away, when what I should have done was find the strength then to be better than my dad. To be better for my mom, Steve, Sarah, Becca, you.”
The knots in your stomach slowly untied themselves, allowing a few butterflies room to flutter around.
Bucky’s hand rested on yours, thumb stroking small circles on your skin. “I should have run over to you, held onto you as tightly as possible and told you that for as long as I can remember, you have been the most important person in my life. That waking up with you in my arms was the happiest I had ever felt, and that I never wanted to wake up without you ever again. That I was stupid for not saying how I felt sooner, that your hand was the only hand I wanted in mine, that your body was the only one I wanted to wrap my arms around, that your voice was the only voice I wanted to hear forever. Existing without you for so many years, without talking to you or seeing your smile or hearing you laugh-” his voice broke and he paused for a second before going on. “Your absence nearly tore me in two. And I almost flew to LA months ago to tell you that I love you and that I needed you in my life again, that I would do whatever it takes to make things right, to beg you to forgive me. That I would spend every day for the rest of my life to show you that I wanted to be worthy of you, even if I never would be. That you would be worth every last ounce of effort I put into making sure your life was as beautiful and filled with love as you deserved.”
You weren’t sure when Bucky had taken your hand completely in his, but next thing you knew he was lifting it up, placing a soft kiss inside your palm, holding it there for a few moments.
“I…” you tried to speak, you really did, but your brain was mush at this point, and its attempts to believe that you weren’t actually dreaming and that Bucky was actually saying this to you took way more effort than it was currently capable of putting in. You couldn’t fathom that this was happening, that everything you thought you knew about your life was completely backwards. That the boy next door felt the same way you did.
Bucky nodded, as if able to read your incoherent thoughts, lowering your hand until it was at your side.
“That was a big info dump, and I’ve just bared my entire heart to you without giving you time to prepare…” He breathed out a small laugh, and his jaw worked before he continued, stormy blue eyes sending a tidal wave into yours. “Anyways, that’s how I feel. And if you don’t feel the same, that is more than okay. No matter what, if you’re willing, I just want you in my life, forever. I can live with whatever that looks like. Just know that if any more John Walkers or Brock whatever-his-dumb-name-is try to mess with you I’m gonna make sure they never breathe the same air as you again.”
You laughed, and Bucky’s eyes - as they always did - lit up at the sound.
There were so many things to say, so much to unpack, so much to process. You had no idea where to begin. Okay, maybe Bucky loved you, and you obviously loved him, but were you willing to go through another potential heartbreak? How did you know there wasn’t a chance that he could find someone years later, and realize that he made a huge mistake choosing you?
Were you willing to let another chance with Bucky slip by, though?
It was all too much to process, and your body was having a hard time keeping up, especially after the amount of physical hardship it had put in moments ago climbing up Big Oaky. The ground started shifting beneath you, your head spinning and your mouth suddenly too dry. You rested a hand on the island for support. “Do you have water?” you responded to his declaration of love.
Bucky’s eyes went wide with concern, and he jumped into action. “Yes, yes, water! Let me just- fuck,” he cursed when he opened the fridge, closing it with a panicked slam before flying to the door to the basement. “Brita’s broken. I have bottles downstairs. One second.”
You nodded, eyes now focused on the ridiculously comfy-looking couch just a few feet away in the living room.
But before you got to the couch, you froze, eyes glued to the living room wall that hadn’t been visible from where you were standing before in the kitchen.
“These haven’t been in the fridge, but if you want I can get a glass and some ice for you-” Bucky spoke as he ran up the stairs, walking over to where you stood until he also froze, following your gaze to the spot on the wall above the fireplace.
On the painting of an oak tree surrounded by swirls of very specific shades of blue, its leaves made up of shimmering stars, the silhouettes of a boy and girl sitting in its branches staring up at the moon.
Tears welled in your eyes as you stared at the painting that you thought you would never see again, the one that you had poured your entire heart and soul into.
Here it was, in Bucky’s living room, mounted above the mantle of the fireplace. Right where it had always belonged, you realized.
You turned slowly, meeting the eyes of a suddenly very self-conscious Bucky. He scratched the back of his neck as his face went beet red.
“Listen,” he started, voice unsteady with nerves, “I told you that I almost went to LA to tell you I love you. I…well I may have actually gone to LA, but I just didn’t get to the latter part-”
Bucky didn’t get the chance to finish his thought, because his lips were suddenly too preoccupied to speak.
Which was fine, because they were happily busy connecting with yours after you jumped forward and kissed him.
At first, he was so caught off guard that his body froze, unsure of what was happening. As soon as his brain caught up, though, his arms quickly wrapped around your waist, and yours held onto his neck, pulling him as close to you as possible.
Over the course of your life, since you were old enough to find kissing not gross, you always wondered what it would be like to kiss Bucky. Would it be slimy? Would his breath smell? Would your breath smell? Would he not like as much as you did?
The real thing was better than what you could have ever hoped for. He tasted like apples and cinnamon, and his lips were soft, warm, hungry. There was no hesitance in the way he kissed you. It was quite the opposite, in fact. He was kissing you with everything he had, giving his entire self to you in this moment.
And you happily returned the favor.
It wasn’t until another feeling, one of a small blob rubbing against your legs, registered in your brain that you pulled away, breathless. Alpine was winding her body between the two of you, meowing softly to get some attention for herself.
Bucky chuckled, shaking his head as a smile threatened to split his face in two. His lips were pink and swollen, and he had never looked more stunning. “Give me a second, Alpine,” he whispered, eyes not leaving yours. “I’m finally having a moment with my girl.”
You bit your bottom lip, giggles bubbling out of you.
His girl. Bucky’s girl.
He took your face in his hands, leaning forward to press a kiss on your forehead.
“My beautiful, beautiful Oak,” he whispered against your skin.
Time stilled, allowing a moment for it to rewrite itself for the two of you, and instead of Bucky pulling away from you like he did all those years ago, he moved forward until his lips reconnected with yours.
Bucky was finally, completely yours, and you were never going to let him go.
Next Part
:) Love you fam. Hope it was worth the wait <3
End banner by the amazing @simmerandcry
No pressure at all, but if you enjoyed this fic, please consider supporting me through my kofi account
Oh girl! @navybrat817 i think my brain just short circuited 🥴
The moment these men set eyes on you they knew you would be theirs, no matter what anyone said, including you. They each uaes their skill sets to watch you, study you and wait for the right time. They didn't want to hurt or scare you but they HAD to have you, all of you, in every way. They feared you would hate them but they were so wrong. Yes, you were a bit nervous and pissed at the beginning but as time went on you were no longer pissed but thankful. You were thankful they loved you beyond measure, put you and your needs above everything and everyone, took such good care of you (if you were honest with yourself they did a better job than you ever did yourself), and the way they worshiped your body and memorized what brought you the most pleasure...well, you were exactly where you wanted to be. 5
1. Bucky Barnes (captain america: the winter soldier): you are the only thing worth risking coming out of hiding for. Filling your 😺 any chance he gets is worth the risk.
2. Nomad Steve Rogers: he's done with being America's golden boy. He knows what he wants and will do whatever it takes to get it. In this case what he wants is you spread out for him as he pulls sweet sinful sounds from you as he feasts on your 😺
3. Loki: this man demands everyone drop to their knees and worship him...except for you. When it comes to you he is the one on his knees ready to worship every inch of you. He lives for the obscene noises you make when you beg him to take you in his Jotunn form. He hated this side of him until he felt how 🌊🌊 you were seeing him all blue and sexy ( your words, not his)
4. Dean Winchester: he lived his life on the road, killing things most people never knew existed. He never had illusions of having someone to come home to. After all, with his "job" he couldn't bring himself to put and keep someone in danger but you changed that. You made him want to be selfish like that. He couldn't walk away and stay away from you. The image of you on your knees, nails running up and down his thighs and your big doe eyes looking up at him, tears running down your face as you let his 🍆 use your mouth however he pleased.
5. Rick O'Connell (the mummy): he's spent his life looking for adventure and treasure but his most precious gem is you. His most favorite discovery is how sensitive your nipples are. He will never forget the day he discovered he could make you cum by just playing with them. It was so hot he came in his pants, untouched, watching yous you. His most favorite discovery is how sensitive your nipples are. He will never forget the day he discovered he could make you cum by just playing with them. It was so hot he came in his pants, untouched, watching you writhe in pleasure as you road out your high.
Ooookkkaaayyy! So I may have thought about this before I saw this post 😏 like a lot. But yea, that's my pick
Nora help plz i cant sleep its now 5am where i am and its a long ask but all i can think about is getting
💫R a i l e d💫 by brat tamer Bucky specifically bothering him , maybe teasing in bed when hes tryna sleep so he's had enough of it and goes "you wanna play hmm? You're going to be a sore loser when im through with you." And he's towering over you in bed, man looks feral he's just h u g e "Oh not so brave now that I'm going to do something to you? Shoulda thought about that before you teased me you little brat"
mmmm this is so nice because it also activates my size kink 😵💫😵💫
teasing bucky when he’s trying to sleep and he warns you “bunny.” and his voice is even lower and raspier because of how late it is. “don’t push your luck, ‘m tired, but doesn’t mean i won’t punish you.”
which just makes your eyes wide with greed.
then he’s had enough, flipping you over and locking your head between his thick forearms. “you wanna play games, bunny? s’that what this is? gonna be a sore loser by the time ‘m done with your pretty little pussy.”
your skin feels like it’s on fire, eyes wide as your heart races and your core is aching as he stands up to his full height to grab your ankle and tug you to the end of the bed.
which makes you squeak, maybe even whimpering a little because of how HUGE he looks. which just makes him chuckle and smirk darkly “such a dumb girl, never thinkin’ ‘bout the consequences. should’a thought twice ‘bout actin’ like a brat, bunny.”
and then whispering “and remember,” kissing your neck. “i bite.” 😩😩
— Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader
— Summary: When your best friend Sarah recommends you a mechanic of her brother’s trust, all you can think about and pray to is that he doesn’t rip you off. Your car is your prized possession and amidst all the worry and concern of your medical studies, drowning in even more debt sounds as suffocating as it would be.
Of course, you never thought of the possibility of the mechanic being the problem.
A hot, polite, gentle and silent-type of problem.
Drowning in debt would be easier to navigate than the blue of Bucky Barnes’s eyes.
— Word count: 8.2k
— A/n: If you enjoy it, feedback is appreciated & highly encouraged and motivates me to write even more. mistakes/errors might be here, let me know if you find any.
◦➳ series playlist ♫ ◦➳ nyx masterlist
Series Masterlist — Previous Chapter
Thanks to your side-job, taking Bullet to repair the small things Bucky reviewed for you all those months ago but said it could be done later comes sooner than expected.
On March, you take her back to Barnes Auto and deliver the keys in his palm, telling him to make your baby as pristine as possible. Bucky winked as a response and now, one week later, you're sitting in his office waiting for him to finish with his latest client so you can take Bullet home after having dinner with him.
The invitation surprised you when it came.
Even though the "arrangement" — as you came to call it in your mind — between you and Bucky came with change — mind-blowing sex — it did not affect the rest of your relation.
Since January, you and him have continued talking about literature, life, and any silly things your friends came up with, or something nice you saw that day and reminded you of the other.
It was almost... perfect.
Which meant, you were terrified.
For your luck, the friends by your side had expertise in keeping you sane and on track. Sarah's ability to drive you away from the edge of insecurity insanity only got better, the same way your abilities to bring her back to herself and make her take care of her for a change was almost at a doctorate level.
"Look at this shit," Steve says by your side.
Blinking out of your thoughts, you step away from the green board and lean down to look at the screen he's pointing at you.
On it, there's a DeVille 70's Cadillac. It's been edited to look Tiffany blue, with a coat of gloss paint over it.
You frown with your entire face. "Ew."
"I know!" He sighs loudly and pulls the phone back at himself with the same sneer on his lips. "It looks ridiculous."
"It does." Half of the time you hear Steve complaining, it's about a job a client has asked him to do of the, frankly, dubious choices they want for their car. "I just wish they wanted somethin' cool like cherry red, or gold, hell—I'd even take silver at this point."
While you're aware people's tastes are their own business, judging them when it's not to their face can't be helped. "Some people just got shitty taste, Steve," you chuckle.
He scoffs behind you. "Yeah, and then make it my problem." You go back to writing down the quote on the office board, knowing his complaints are nowhere near done. "D'you think I could convince him to make a less insane blue choice?"
Putting the pen down, you smile back at him. "Sure. Show him the traditional metallic blue people usually go with this model."
After an even more dramatic sigh, Steve puts his phone down against Bucky's table and turns to you spinning the chair. "Anyway. What you're still doing here?" He asks with a friendlier face. "I thought Buck finished Bullet this morning."
"He did. I'm waiting for him to finish with the client 'cause he's ending my Japanese food drought complaints," you point at where Bucky is, still talking to the blonde lady with the BMW. "He told me he knows the best restaurant in town to have it and I've been craving and complaining about it on his week for like, a week," you shrug your shoulders.
Steve, on his hand, seems to find your news less amusing. If his wide eyes are anything to go by, you've said something meaningful without knowing.
"He's taking you to Nakajima?" He asks, clearly awed.
"Uhm. Yeah? I think yes." You twist uncomfortably. Steve's eyes are so blue and earnest, and having Bucky's best friend look at you like him taking you to a restaurant is an Oasis sight could make anyone uneasy. "All he said was 'alright you did great in your presentation you deserve some niguiris' and... I can't argue with that logic," you chuckle.
Steve chuckles too, eyes still fixed on you as he smiles grows fondly. "Yeah." He stops spinning his chair and breathes deeply. "And here I was thinking you were waiting 'cause you were gonna, you know—," he stops mid-sentence and wiggles his eyebrows. "Bow chicka wow wow."
You burst out laughing, almost falling against one of the bookshelves. "You're a child." When your laughter dims to a giggle, you look at Steve to see his pleased and smug face. "We don't fuck at his workplace, Steven Grant. Because both of you agreed to this rule, apparently," you add with a long-suffering sigh.
Steve's face gains puppy-like happiness, an often occurance when he makes you laugh like this. "Ah. Glad to know it isn't because of lack of opportunity."
"Have you seen your best friend?" You tease. "He can get it anywhere he'd like, boo."
This time, it's Steve who bursts out laughing, clutching his right hand over the left part of his chest. "You're so bad!" Through his giggles, he adds. "I have seen him, yeah. Been there done that, remember?" He wiggles only his right eyebrow at you, and you shake your head at him in disbelief, entirely amused by the fondness he manages to say that with.
"I sure do."
"So you two are not doing the devil's tango in our office, and he's taking you to dinner," Steve prompts, voice laced with insinuation.
You decide to ignore the unsaid question and shoot him another teasing remark instead. "Are you actually allergic to the word fuck?"
Unbothered, he shrugs his shoulders. "I like a good metaphor," Steve answers promptly. "Is it a date?" He asks you, totally unphased by your attempt at distractions.
The question tugs like a hook in your chest and it pulls.
"Steve," you chastise.
"Y/n," he replies, tilting his chin lower and piercing you with blue daggers.
"It's not." With a pointed look to him, you try to look as menacing as possible in the presence of Steve, who's one of the people you grew to love the fastest in your life. "You know that."
He smacks his lips, then looks away. "A guy can dream," is what he says under his breath, going for a joking tone, but you know him better, and he knows you know him better by now.
"You're more of a drama queen than your man," you offer with a huff.
"He learned it all from me," he replies proudly.
There's a shared moment of silence where the both of you exchange a look of happiness, and when Steve looks out of the window to where Bucky is still trying to leave from the octopus grasp of the client.
She's still leaning against the hood of her car, and still smiling as charmingly as she did when entering the auto shop.
Steve watches as the client laughs with her head thrown back at something Bucky said, and from the office, you two can both see his grimace that he's attempting to pass as a smile for an answer.
"That doesn't bother you?" Steve asks in a lower, somber tone, suddenly right at your side.
How he and Bucky can be stealthy as cats on their feet when being over six feet tall is beyond you.
At least you're developing the ability to not get startled like an idiot every time it happens.
Shrugging your shoulders, you look away from the view. "Can't blame her."
Steve hums at that, then tries to look over your shoulder to see what you wrote on the board. You take a step to the side, but your handwriting's too small for him to read from where he is, so he gets up and walks to you.
On the board, he reads.
I reach out in love, my hands are guns, my good intentions are completely lethal.
"Where's it from?" He asks behind you.
"Margaret Atwood," your smile widens. Gaining back the habit of reading was, perhaps, one of the best things Bucky's brought back to your life. "Selected Poems, 1965 - 1975."
"Nice." When you turn around, he's looking at you with a funny look on his face. "Another bookworm."
"Guilty as charged," you giggle.
"Who's guilty of what?" Bucky's voice comes from behind both of you, and you and Steve turn around in unison.
This time, you jump a little on your seat, but only Bucky seems to notice.
Steve points at you. "Another book nerd."
Bucky looks from Steve to you, and the stain of grease he has on the side of his jaw makes you want to scream a little bit. He always scratches his beard with grease-stained hands, so every time you see him, some part of his face is painted in black.
You've smudged out plenty of those traces from him by now.
Bucky smiles in your direction. "I know." He looks to Steve. "You know me—I love sexy brains."
"And that's my cue to leave," says Steve. With a lazy, one-arm hug around your neck, he says. "Bye, Lady B."
"Bye, Steve Boo."
Behind Steve's arms choking you with a little bit of love, you see Bucky rolling his eyes, a sweet smile on the corner of his lips. "You two are becoming gross," Bucky comments.
Without a single moment of hesitation, both you and Steve poke your tongues out at him.
"You adore us." Steve lets you go and claps his hand on Bucky's shoulder. "See you tomorrow, jerk."
"Bye, punk."
With Steve gone, you take one more peek out of the window and see the black BMW driving out of Barnes Auto. You turn to Bucky with a smirk. With the grossest and most insinuating tone you can muster, you ask. "Did she invite you to check under her hood?"
Unlike Steve, Bucky doesn't nearly fall out of his chair laughing at your awesome joke. What he does is look at you while trying to hide his amusement, then shake his head as if he heard the saddest dad joke on the planet. "I'm banning Steve from spending time with you."
"Shut up!" You laugh. "You can't ban him from me. We're friends now. We hang out without you, okay?"
Bucky chuckles at that. "Oh, trust me, I know." He starts closing everything on his computer and organizing his files, mostly because he knows you'll bitch about his messy table if he tries to leave without cleaning up a bit first. "He told me all about it yesterday." Over his computer screen, Bucky gives you a threatening look. "Don't you dare steal my best friend."
The threat is so funny because it sounds both mocking and real. There's no way in heavens or hell that Bucky genuinely thinks someone could steal Steve from him, but just in case, you stop your giggling to answer him properly. "Bucky, I don't think anyone can." You get up from the chair in front of his desk and grab your purse. "Also, I wouldn't want to. He can have other friends, you jealous bitch."
Now Bucky laughs. "I'm surrounded by brats."
He truly is, so all you can do is grin and wait for him to be ready to go.
You and Bucky drive to Nakajima in Bullet, with him sitting on your passenger seat and all his things thrown in the backseat of your car.
On your way there, Bucky tells you about his biggest client, Marcos, who's part of legal (and illegal) races in New York and some areas surrounding it, and who's giving Bucky enough headaches to last an entire year.
He also jokes that he's happy you genuinely brought Bullet back for a follow-up and to do the remaining repairs he said you could leave for later.
"I'm glad you get so much cash smiling at fancy Upper Easters," he jokes. "Turn left." He pockets his phone, and completely misses the way your body tenses at his first joke relating to where you get your money.
Although your posts have diminished since October, a lot of it had to do with how many shots you had saved on your phone, ready to go, all because of that burst of inspiration that hit you right after meeting him.
"Yeah," you chuckle, throat suddenly dry. "Are we close? I'm about to eat this wheel if we're not," you joke, needing a subject change before your hunger dissipates from nervousness.
Bucky not knowing of your side-job is something that's been plaguing your mind for a while now.
After two whole months of deepening your friendship and occasionally losing yourself in tangled messes in his sheets and, eventually, yours too, Bucky's someone you deem trustworthy.
Telling him you sell pictures of yourself online to strangers who are willing to pay for shots of you in lingerie is something that feels as pleasant as a beehive living in your gut.
You have no idea how he'll react to it.
If Bucky notices your mood shifting, he says nothing.
He leads you inside Nakajima, goes straight to the back to a table that says 'reserved', and drops his body heavily on the booth.
Bucky looks tired from an entire day of work, but even still he looks handsome.
"Can I order for you?" He asks softly, not even picking up the menu. He's got that tired side-smile on his face from when he's sleepy, but still happy to be where he is. "I kinda know everything in here."
"Go for it."
Dinner with Bucky is amazing, even if it isn't a date.
The laughter is the same, and the conversation never stales between you two.
Bucky orders for both of you with a shy smile to the waiter who recognizes him and says someone named Yori sends his hello, then goes right back to the story he was telling of his earliest client who threw a fit over sunglasses that "went missing" when the car was at his shop, apparently.
With school picking up for you and business rising for him with the start of the year, you and Bucky have less time to text and call, but technology is hardly necessary for your communication at this point.
If it isn't at his place, you two see each other at Sam's and if not at Sam's, you now can also see each other at Steve's place.
Bucky even went to your apartment.
Sarah's the only friend you have in New York who's been to your home before.
You don't need it to be a date to be happy in this arrangement.
Bucky's made it clear he has no intentions of being anyone's partner because he isn't in no position to give them what they'd deserve of one, but as a friend, Bucky is excellent.
He always cheers you on when things are hard, he's honest when you ask his opinion on the things that matter, he confides in you when he's feeling anxious or stressed about life and most importantly, he communicates when he needs a little bit of space or when he wants your presence.
Then, there's the addition.
As a lover, Bucky Barnes has most likely ruined you for all men.
Outside of Nakajima, with your bellies full of food and your mind aching less after a little bit of sake, you and him smoke one sitting on a curb as you rant about how much you loathe the way your mother treats your sisters sometimes.
"They'll be fine, Y/n," Bucky laughs at you when you dramatize about their future. "They've got you."
"Hm." With your head still supported on your knees, you sigh deeply.
"Min and Liv told me I could take them to that place you showed me," Bucky offers lightly, knowing damn well it'll distract you from your problems.
You look up at him with your whole face lit up. "They liked it?!"
He laughs at your reaction, nodding along. The street lights are just enough to illuminate the blush that appears on his cheeks, which means Bucky's so happy about this he can barely contain it in himself. "Thanks for the tip. The girls are now convinced you're cooler than me."
"I told you to show them the museum, not tell them a friend of yours knew it and showed it to you, idiot," you roll your eyes fondly.
"God, the insults just keep on comin' lately, huh?" He asks.
This time, it's your turn to blush.
"I'm this close to being a forty-year-old man, sweetheart, I will install some respect on your bratty ass even I have to shove it there myself," he jokes, making you laugh and almost fall with your whole body on the sidewalk.
He holds you from that fate by your arm, laughing alongside you.
Then you register his words. "Wait—what do you mean this close?"
Bucky stops laughing and, realizing what he said, grimaces. "Uh..."
"James Buchanan Barnes. When is your birthday?"
He recoils at his full name, sheepishly looking at you from under his eyelashes. "In... ten days?"
You screech at that, hitting him with your full force, repeatedly. "You! When—were you—gonna tell me?" You punctuate every word with a punch to his arms, and all he says is 'ow' and 'stop', but he's laughing before you're done with the question.
"I don't like to celebrate it!" He defends himself, still unable to contain his laughter. "I usually just spend it with Steve, and then over time, those other idiots joined us, but it's boring. I'm—I don't like celebrating the passing of time."
You give him a sad, pouty look, then shrug your shoulders.
"Well. I'd still have a liked a warning, I wanna give you a gift, at least," you whine a little, thinking back on the awesome gift Bucky gave you for yours.
Suddenly, Bucky's face is up close to yours, inches away with a smile that never fails to make your knees weaken a little. "I don't need gifts, certainly not from you, who gives me plenty more than most people," he whispers smoothly, liking on his bottom his unconsciously. "Are you gonna gimme a ride back home, darlin'?" Bucky asks, and the invitation under his tongue makes your toes curl a little.
You blame it on the sake for your blush turning darker. "You want a ride?"
Bucky moves slowly to the side, ghosting his nose over your cheek and slowly moving downwards in direction of your neck. The barely-there touch makes you close your eyes, and you feel the breath of him chuckling underneath your ear, right before his lips meet your skin.
"Oh, I want a ride," Bucky laughs, and you know you'll give him exactly what he's asking for.
You drive him to his house slapping his hand away from your thigh — "if I crash my baby i'll have to kill you, Bucky, stop it" — and when you two get there, Bucky leads you to the kitchen between sloppy, wet kisses, and in there retrieves another bottle of sake with challenging eyes at you. "Are you tryin' to get me drunk, Sargeant?" You ask, walking towards him with a smile.
Bucky rolls his eyes and grabs two glass shots. "I know it takes a lot more than a couple of shots to get you drunk, darlin'." He puts both cups on the counter, and then stops abruptly, turning to you with sudden seriousness. "Unless you don't want one? I'll have both, I don't mind," he says in a playful tone.
"Oh, that wasn't a complaint," you shake your hands.
He pours you two shots, but that's not the only one he has. Bucky also decides it's a good idea to lift your body onto his counter, drip a shot between your boobs, and drink it as if he's done this before, many times.
He also spills some drops on the inside of your thighs as an excuse to lick them, and at this point, you don't know what you're more drunk on.
You and Bucky are incapable of taking your hands off of each other and make it into the bedroom, so his counter becomes another addition to places you two get lost in each other's bodies.
Between the kisses and the groping, you two barely remove your clothes before you pull Bucky out of his pants and makes him fuck you right thee, building up the sweat on your body at how delicious he feels leaving beard burns on your neck as he moves his hips in a sinful, slow pace.
It's easy to cum with Bucky whispering filth in your ear, with one hand gripping your waist as the other expertly touches your clit, pushing all the right buttons at the right speed.
It's as easy as having him in the corridor, stripping him naked on his bed and getting maneuvered like the doll he calls you to be until, finally, you're sitting above him with your hands bracing the headboard, and his head buried under your chin, arms secured around your waist.
Riding with Bucky anywhere is great.
Riding him into you both orgasm takes the cherry, though.
◦➳◦
"Okay. This is like, the third time you've spaced out, baby. What's up?"
If she hadn't just pulled you from the depths of your thoughts, you'd try for stupidity and say 'whaaaaat, Nat? I'm not sure what you mean'.
On the other hand, it's Nat.
Your best friend. Your baby, even if she's older than you.
Hiding from someone who's known you for what feels like a lifetime stops feeling like even an option, eventually.
"Sorry," your nose scrunches sheepishly, and Nat's smile softens even more on the other side of the screen.
"It's fine." Her deep voice always soothes you, and she'd been arguing with Yelena on the other side about something, so your mind had taken a detour to what if land, losing itself in the same scenario that hasn't left your head since dinner with Bucky last night. "I'm just just wondering what's on that big brain of yours. Is the new bestie taking care of you alright?"
The teasing tone she uses makes you roll your eyes, but you know Nat well enough to tell when her smirk is being mean mean and when it's being i'm messing with you mean.
"I don't need taking care of," you sass back, because being a brat to Nat was as much nature as anything else on your body.
"Sure you don't." That's said seriously, and then the smirk takes over again. "Just some eventual check-in, in case you're biting your lip too hard, painting strands of your hair pink or, you know, spacing out for the thousanth time." Nat straightens up her posture — and it's ironic how much she enjoys slouching around, for a professional ballerina — and starts taking the pins off of her hair. "I'm listening. I've got an hour of break because no, Yelena, I will not go you a sandwich downstairs—what? Go get it yourself, you lazy ass—no! I already told you, I'm talking to her. You call her yourself when you remember that you own a phone and stop stealing my time." She takes a deep breath. "Anyway. Go ahead, liebe."
Nat's eyes fall on your lips through the screen and you stop biting them with the accusatory glance.
"Are you nervous to talk to me about something?" She asks, reading you like an open book. "Ah. This is about the... Sergeant."
Damn.
Since you two have been friends, you and Nat haven't had secrets from each other.
Sure, at the highest peak in your journey, you two held the most important secret from each other—being in love can hurt a lot when you pretend it isn't real. Natasha admitted only a couple of years ago that she had felt it too, even if she never said it at the time.
The entire relationship had been messy—there wasn't one, to begin with, and at school and outside you two were and behaved like the best of friends, except for when the rain trapped you inside lakehouses or the alcohol made you stupid with braveness; getting involved with Natasha had been one of the most intense, emotional and soul-changing things in your life, and you knew that feeling would linger until the day you died.
You remember the taste of her lips, and the shaky and terrified way with which she kissed you sometimes.
You recalled the calloused touch of her hands on your soft skin—the hands that loved to practice hand-to-hand combat just to differ from the dainty other pairs in her dance room. Natasha's hands never shied away from you between four rooms and when the curtains fell for you two.
It only shied away everywhere else, taking away with her cold turn of the chin all the heat her kisses and sweet-talking created.
It took you months to put your piece back together after she broke them on the ground, and since you'd managed to glue them all and find a way to forgive her, she's been her. Nat.
The friend who always watched out for your six. People looked at Nat and saw only the poise and the straight face, the small smiles.
"It is," you whispered back.
Nat looked back at you, and you saw what others always failed to.
The ballerina that carried her steps, constantly, was the eye of the hurricane.
Natasha's aloofness was an illusion; her soul carried a turbulent depth that few managed to navigate.
The point was, there were no secrets between you two and as soon as something happened between you and Bucky, you told her everything.
Natasha's opinion on Bucky was, according to her opinion, "still pending".
"What happened?" She asked, calmly.
"It's funny you ask, 'cause... you're the only person who can give ma an opinion on this from a—a... partner's point of view?" You force a smile open.
The clinking of Nat's hairpins falling inside the metal container stops for a second, and then they come back when she shrugs. "You wanna ask me about your page." It isn't a question, and you let out a breath you weren't holding when you notice she isn't upset.
If Nat isn't upset, then it might not be hopeless.
"You don't think I should be shitting my pants right now?" You ask.
Natasha's genuine and surprised laughter makes you smile. "Why would you be? Does he pay your bills, liebe?"
"No," you pout.
"Then his opinions on how you do are the only ones are allowed to be shit in this scenario." She looks up at you, letting out her red hair and shaking it. "Tell him. If he's an intelligent and reasonable man, he'll have no issues with what you do with your own body. If he doesn't wanna be with you 'cause of that, as if you selling pictures changes anything in who you are as a person, he's a hypocrite and pretentious dick and you can tell him to fuck off." Natasha leans closer to her phone and smiles in that way that makes you think she definitely could be a comic book villain. "What you do is nothing to be ashamed about. It's something some people judge, but that doesn't mean it's wrong. People judge a lot of things 'cause people are shitty." Maybe not a villain. An anti-hero, sounds more like her. "Did you two discuss at any point if you are even exclusive?"
All her words are true and, to a degree, you've known those things yourself, but since Bucky teased you about the money the previous night all you wanted was to get this out of the way.
Perhaps it was just your fear that he said something idiotic — or worse, hurtful — now out of all times, and you were left to feel like an idiot for trusting him to be something he's not.
You stop biting at your thumb to nod at her. "Yeah." Right in January when this had all started, Bucky had said he would let you know if went out with someone else just because he thought that was fair, and you had agreed completely. "We said we'd let each other know if we went out with another person, just 'cause—you know."
"Open and decent communication about your relations," Nat nodded. "I remember my therapist saying something about it, yes," she jokes.
It works. You burst out in giggles, and then nod vehemently at her. "Exactly." It was even funnier 'cause it was most likely true. "And neither one of us has said anything about other people, so..." You trail often, lifting your thumb to your mouth again before Nat smacks her teeth at you in reprehension. "Sorry."
"Where's your anxiety ball?" She asks. You go up and go fetch it in your drawer, and once you have it in your hand she goes back. "So. Tell him you wanna tell him something personal, then show him the page. It's gorgeous, you take great pictures, you make bank with it. Remember what Sarah said?"
Your smile widens with Nat bringing up Sarah.
You really have hope for them to get along one day.
Sarah only needs to get over her mistrust of Nat that she gained from hearing the whole story between you two.
"I do, yeah."
"Sarah has a point." Behind Natasha somewhere, the voice of Yelena comes bursting 'yeah she does!'. You're laughing out loud when Yelena's face pops up in the top corner of the screen. "Sorry Y/n, I was getting ready and hearing everything. Sarah really has a point. I'll call you tomorrow, kay? Love you!" After rushing out the words, you hear the hurried steps of her leaving for her practice.
You and Nat stare at each other and then burst out laughing together.
"Sorry, I was alone here with her. If I had remembered the sister I have I'd have put on my air pods."
"Don't worry, you spare me the trouble of having to say it all again tomorrow," you turn around in your bed and when your eyes catch your pile of books spread on the floor, you groan.
"Studies calling you?" Nat asks with.
"Shhhh, don't remind me." You whine and pull your Stich plushie closer to your body, hugging it close. "You have an hour of lunch and I plan on stealing it."
"My time is yours."
"Good." Remembering where you two had left off the last time, your grin turns into a devil-ish smirk. "Now... how's the newbie going? Wanda?" You wiggle your eyebrows at Natasha.
Her blush is worth a fortune even through pixels.
◦➳◦
After the message you had received, you looked forward to a night of ecstasy.
Steve Boo
we need reinforcements
Me
what do you mean
wait, first, are you done with your exam?
Of course I'm done boo
Couldn't be texting you from the middle of it could I
har har
come to my place in thirty can you make it in thirty
U ok babe?
Of course I can be there
oh no everything's great!!!
We're just gonna convince Bucky to spend summer @ my aunt's house for summer this time. whatever it takes!!!! so i need reinforcements
Come
Oh ^^ to the house too
MJ says she'll only go if you go
Peter's been trying to convince her since last year so I guess u have to go now ! u're gonna have a great summer with us
(Sarah's obviously coming. the house isn't big but the food is awesome and you can swim all month!!! did u sell it to you? 👀
You sold it to me boo
I'd love to go
(Be there in 30-40)
With summer plans defined, even the next weeks of exams couldn't put you down.
A night with almost all of your friends in the same place is exactly what you needed after two days of intense studying preparing for exams week.
When you get to Steve's place, you're welcomed in a hug by Sam and behind him, the screeches of two happy pre-teens who haven't seen you in days makes you feel like you've come to a second home.
MJ and Peter arrive with the pizzas a few moments later, and Bucky follows them. Almost everyone is at the house, and with only one week for Bucky's birthday, you and Steve are found gossiping and plotting things together more than once around the house.
Between a couple of pizzas and the next round of beer, Bucky finds you alone in the kitchen and flirts shamelessly, even if he doesn't get closer.
You two love playfully teasing each other in public. There are no small touches or a lot of physical contact, but more than once Steve, or Morita, or Gabe had to tear you two away from your 'bubble' and the 'eye fucking', as they've grown to call it.
Handing Bucky a beer, you ask him about his sisters and whether he's invited them to his birthday day at Coney with the boys already and when Bucky gives you a confused look, you roll your eyes at him.
"I should invite them, right?" He asks in confirmation, sounding almost hopeful.
"Of course, Buck." No teenager or young adult would refuse at day at Coney with rides and candy floss, specially if it was a celebratory day.
You're pretty sure you convince him of doing so. Bucky says he'll "think about it", but you catch him smiling and glancing at his phone a few times during dinner.
When everyone's gathered at the table and multiple conversations are overlapping, Sam asks you about your 'russian girls' that Sarah talks about so much, and with a lot of excitement, you tell everyone that Natasha and Yelena have gathered enough money to visit you for three weeks of the summer.
That ensues conversation about how you all met and briefly, you tell him about your oldest friends.
Peter wins the commentary of the night, though, when upon discovering that you had "dated" Natasha for a few years, says. "I'm just glad you're not dying your hair red anymore," he says to MJ. "I don't think I can go against her charm if she saw what you look like with these curls all red," he says, pointing at you.
Everyone laughs at that, and you catch on the other side of the table Bucky's curious glint in his eyes.
You two drive to his house again — always the case when you go to Steve's — and the mood is so great that you almost blurt out the thing that's been nagging at the back of your brain.
Your hushed whispered "can I tell you something?" interrupts the episode of Squid Game you two have playing in the background while you drink some whiskey together, and it's sitting on his bed with your legs thrown over his that Bucky finds out.
"I wanna show you something."
He puts down his glass and looks at you expectantly, so you breathe in deep and start explaining as you open your little secret up on your phone.
Bucky listens without interrupting, and when you hand him your phone, his jaw falls opens in surprise, his eyes widening a little.
Then, his fingers start scrolling. Touching, zooming in, silently looking at almost every single post you've ever done.
You sit in silence next to him and it's only because his face says so much that you manage to keep it quiet through it all.
Bucky's eyes are wide, but his open lips are almost smiling.
He looks like someone who's entered a museum for the first time, someone who's been handed something exciting and all they can do is appreciate it, look at it, gasp under their breath when their attention is taken to a new height.
When he finally turns to you, his pupils blown wide and his bottom lip caught between his teeth, your trouble becomes bigger.
You never calculated what would happen if he liked it a lot, instead of the opposite.
"These are so fucking beautiful," he whispers, inching closer and closer to you.
"Yeah?" You breathe out.
Bucky nods, eyes falling to your lips. "People should pay good fucking money to see these." He puts his phone at his bedside table without ever breaking eye contact from your lips, and then his hands move to your waist. "Art is priceless, you know?"
The embarrassed giggle that comes out of you makes your whole upper body squirm under his touch. "You're cheesy. They're not that good."
Bucky looks up, his lips inches away from your collarbone. "That's defamation and I won't have it in my house," he says in a serious tone, prolonging your laughter. "God. You make me wanna take a picture and I'm a shit photographer." He kisses your shoulders while his hands massage your thigh, and you hold back a whine. "You're so fucking beautiful, Y/n," he whispers.
You're breathless, and your skin is honey, but you still manage a teasing whisper. "I'm quite a good photographer." His hands roam under your shirt, and you adjust your legs properly around his waist.
Bucky lifts you up to sit closer on his lap and you know that soon, his hand will reach out behind him to pull the curtains now letting the Moonlight in, and it makes your skin itch.
Your hands grab both of his, and you start kissing on his throat.
He chuckles, and lets you pin his wrists to his body, pliant under your touch, too. "Good. I'll grab the camera in a while." He bares his neck to you and whispers when your ear is close to his lips. "Get the curtains for me? I wanna show you somethin'."
It's said in his aloof and cheesy way, but it makes you stop.
You want to see him, too, and a big part of you knows — or at least, it tells you — that you're aware of why he doesn't let you.
Always in the dark, or with your back to his chest. Always so close, but just out of your reach.
"Do I have to?" You ask in a whisper, faces inches apart from his. "'Cause... there's only the light of Moon here and honestly, Buck... I'd love to see you come undone when I ride you." Saying the words make your throat go dry, and your heart beats too fast for you to understand all the reasons why. Bucky's a little rigid underneath you, but his eyes are still on you, open and listening. "I'm not the only one that's beautiful here."
His eyes close tightly at the words. "Doll..."
Both of your hands go up to cup his face, and it makes him open his eyes again to look at you.
"It's not pretty," he whispers to you, and neither one needs more words to understand what he means. "There's a lot of scarring, and... you don't gotta see that. It's not pretty."
"Bucky. You're insanely handsome. No—look at me," when he ducks away his face in shyness, you grab it between your hands again. "I mean it. It's almost offensive, honestly," you add with a lighter tone, and is gifted with him rolling his eyes fondly. "And if you think that some scarring changes that you either don't know me or mistook me for someone else. Someone a lot thicker and more shallow than me, that's for sure." You wiggle closer to him on his lap, watching the smile trying to crack open on his lips. "I'm not perfect, either. I'm not saying that to make comparisons, I'm sayin' it to remind you that I live in the real word, and that in the same way you don't see flaws in my stretch marks or my scars, I won't see it in yours. Now..." you trail off, looking at the curtains and the sky dark behind you two. "If you don't want to, I'll respect that. And won't ask you again," you smile back at him. "Pinky promise. I just—I don't want you to think you have to 'cause I won't think you're the handsome devil you are 'cause... that's pretty impossible."
Bucky stays silent through your whole speech, and you're thankful he isn't lying above you like normally for it 'cause if he felt the way your heart is beating, it'd be embarrassing.
Thankfully, he isn't.
And thankfully, he believes you.
The smile that takes over his face makes your heart slow to a dangerous pace given how fast it was beating before it, and when Bucky seals his lips on yours and starts to drag his tongue on yours in that filthy and languid way that makes your toes curl, you're not aware of how any part of your body is functioning anymore.
He's good at making everything feel like a hot, humid summer day like that.
Bucky not only lets you keep the curtains open, he also lets you take his clothes off and get him ready before you sit on him all the way down.
He sits underneath you with his feet planted on the mattress, his hands gripping your waist tight enough to leave bruises and his mouth always close to the column on your throat, where he loves to leave his sinful praises and sordid requests.
He sits and takes it as you use his body for your pleasure, for his, for both of yours.
The pace is yours until it isn't; until you're too weak on how good everything feels to do anything anymore, and that's when he takes over and leads you both to the release you've been chasing for an hour.
Usually, Bucky gets up from the bed after a while to clean up and toss the condom away and comes back with a warm towel to soothe your red skin — the slaps and the beard burns and the sweat are his to tend for, as he put it — but this time, he carries you to the bathroom and says "shower" like a monosyllabic cave-man.
You hook on your phone to the JBL stereo and for a while, it's peaceful.
As you wash his hair, you sing under his breath.
When you turn around for him to wash yours, your humming of Ezra Furman comes to a still when he talks.
"D'you wanna know how it happened?" He asks.
His voice is gravely and low, and you take a moment to answer.
"Yeah," it comes out.
"It was an IED." The distance in his tone doesn't fool you. You can feel in the soft and circling movements of his fingers that Bucky's miles away and years ago. "Peter and Kim were doing patrol... I managed to pull Peter by the arm and thrown him a few meters away, but... Kim... he wasn't close. He was..." Bucky's words trail off, and you wait with your heart bleeding on your hands for him to finish. "He wasn't close."
You're sure Bucky doesn't want to hear about saving Peter's life.
You're not sure if there is something you can say to make the pain dull any less, so you do the only thing you can think of. You turn around and hug him, and you let Bucky stay in there for as long as he likes it.
The only words you can whisper in his ear are 'i'm so sorry that happened to you', and Bucky's arms tightening around you is the only answer you need.
Usually, you leave at this point, but this time, it's impossible. You two fall asleep hugging each other, and the last thing you think about before drifting to unconsciousness are Natasha's words from when you first told her about him.
He sounds... like a lot, liebe.
You wake up alone in his bed, and your stomach is too tight.
Glancing outside you see it must not be even seven, but the coldness of the bed makes you more uneasy than the hour.
The house feels empty, but something tells you it's not.
Bucky left the bed hours ago if the chillness on his side of the sheets is anything to go by.
You put on your clothes slowly, trying to push away the hook on the back of your brain as you look for him, but when you find him on his porch outside the kitchen, it only worsens.
Bucky's surrounded by cigarette smoke, finishing a phone call. He presses end right before he sees you standing on the other side of the door, and when his eyes lock on yours, you know your instinct warned you of a storm before you encountered it.
You open the glass door bracing yourself for chiller weather in here than in the bed.
There's a heartbeat of silence when you stand under the threshold, and Bucky looks from you down to his phone with a bitter smile.
"Becca's not going," he chuckles, and oh.
His baby sister, the oldest one of them all, is also the hardest.
"I'm sorry, Bucky," you tell him honestly.
He shakes his head at you, sitting down on the chair again and lighting up his cigarette again. "'s okay. I knew it when I asked."
The comforting words that climb up your throat can't seem to find their way out, and he talks before you can push them out.
"Y/N."
It's only your name, but you've heard it like that before. You heard it said with that weight; with the trembling hands of someone who's about to drop something of yours they have and you hadn't even noticed.
"Yeah?" You ask.
"I don't think this is gonna work with... with us sharing so many friends, that is." Bucky blows out the smoke from his cigarette and looks up at you. "I'm scared to do somethin' royal and fuck this up and I know it'd come eventually, and—you're my friend. And I'm scared you're caring for me like more than just that 'cause if I break your heart or anything like that—" Bucky shakes his head again, sounding a little choked up. He clears his throat. "I can't have that. I said we wouldn't pretend nothing happened and I haven't, right? But I also told ya I can't—I don't have what you deserve from someone you'd care about. I wish I did."
In your head, the memory of January 1st on The Wilson 1 pizza night comes back to you.
When Sarah and Peter, both losing their absolute minds at seeing you two share the stupidest wink above everyone's head, had asked out loud about you two.
"Do I have to sue him, girl?" Sarah asked you.
The whole table had stopped, and Peter had opened the widest grin. "Oh, yeah. Y/n. Did Sarge restore the honor of man in your eyes? The dude was ready to chop his dick off—"
"I'll never live that one down, will I?" Bucky asked, munching on celery.
"No," everyone answered in different tones.
"Y'all are so noisy. Stop meddling,' Steve had intervened. "Bucky's pretty good at what he does and that's their business, anyway."
"Pretty good?" You had finally voiced, making everyone's eyes go from Steve to you. "Stevie, you don't gotta lie on your bestie like that just 'cause you finally conquered your man. Saying that man is 'pretty good' is slander, at the least."
The wolf-whistling and cat-calling from the whole table had only amplified Bucky's laughter and bright red cheeks, but after hiding behind his hands for a total of three seconds, he'd lowered them and answered with a smile, speaking louder than the bursts of commentaries.
"Alright, alright—" He'd pinned you with a look. "I had plenty of help, she flatters me," he'd added in mock-humbleness.
That had eased your worries of him not repeating the same mistakes you worried so much for.
That made you open to trusting him and Bucky had shown to be worthy of that, every step of the way.
It'd also made you open to let him in, without even noticing.
And Bucky was right.
You were 'starting to care for him' like more than before.
"You're right, Buck." You swallowed the knot on your throat and resisted the urge to ask him for a smoke. The idea of brushing your skin on his makes you lightheaded, which is ironic considering how much of that you two were doing just a few hours ago.
Oh.
You might need a few days away to make your peace with what that touch did to you.
“Is it a completely horrible idea?”
“What is?”
“If I asked you whether I can give you all the orgasms you’re due from these shitty occasions… plus fees, of course,”
He had given you what you both wanted, and closed the door before one of you — you, clearly — were over their heads without noticing.
"At least you worked that out before this really became a bad idea," you tell him with an attempted smile. "I'll see myself out. I'll text you, okay?" You ask.
He must see on your face that it might take a while.
Bucky nods, and blows out more smoke. "Please, do."
His 'please' sounds as honest as everything else he's whispered against your skin.
I knew this was coming but when I tell you...I. WASN'T. READY!!!! I'm on my period and my hormones are a fucking mess and now I'm ugly crying bc I'm so invested (and a lil crazy) I feel like it happened to me personally. Please make it better and stop hurting @nexusnyx
— Summary: When your best friend Sarah recommends you a mechanic of her brother’s trust, all you can think about and pray to is that he doesn’t rip you off. Your car is your prized possession and amidst all the worry and concern of your medical studies, drowning in even more debt sounds as suffocating as it would be.
Of course, you never thought of the possibility of the mechanic being the problem. A hot, polite, gentle, and silent-type of problem.
Drowning in debt would be easier to navigate than the blue of Bucky Barnes’s eyes.
— Word count: 6.1k
— A/n: This is the SECOND chapter of the series. If you enjoy it, feedback is appreciated & highly encouraged and motivates me to write even more. mistakes/errors might be here, let me know if you find any.
Ps.: any typos in the phone conversations are Bucky's, okay? they're meant to be there klahsakjs. his hands are dirty w/ grease leave him alone <3
◦➳ soundtrack ♫ ◦➳ nyx masterlist ◦➳ join my taglist
Series Masterlist — Previous Chapter
During the first 48h, you pretend that each glance to your phone is just the regular technology-based obsession, and not you waiting for a very specific text message.
Sarah brings your sandwiches, you have to wake up a couple of hours earlier to navigate the city without your baby and things go smoothly.
You’re cool. Bucky could take the time he needed; he was clearly a busy man—you’d seen the number of cars in his shop and he saw you as an emergency, after waiting for you to drop by for days, may it be added.
The only person anxious was Sarah.
“I never thought you’d be this good at keeping your mouth shut.” She’s sitting in front of you, both of you lying on her apartment’s living room floor after a busy night of papers and eating crappy food. “I’m almost impressed.”
“I told you before: there’s nothing else to tell.”
The lie hangs between you two like a clown mask. Sarah does that trick where she lifts only one eyebrow, and you hear the ‘bitch, please’ loud and clear through it.
“Y/n. I’ve known you for three years, and during this time I’ve heard you speak about men exactly two times: the first one when you told me ‘I don’t date. Men ain’t shit, and I like my company way too much to indulge in meaningless relationships with people who aren’t worth my time’, which until today feels like—respect, you know” Sarah lifts her glass of orange juice to you, and you giggle behind the cushion. “And the second time was three days ago, when you texted me ‘he’s so hot S, what the fuck’ as if that’s something that happens often. It isn’t. You’re one of the few friends I’ve got who gimme the peace of not talking about relationships all the fucking time, so please, pretty please, spill, bitch.”
By the time she’s done talking, your laughter is being stifled behind the cushion, but your whole body is shaking with it.
If you wake up AJ or Cass, Sarah was ready to make your murder look like an accident.
She laughs too at your delight, and when you finally catch a breath, all you want to do is bury your head in her couch and never come out.
What could you say?
“C’mon, Y/n!” Sarah whines, grabbing you by the ankle and then shaking your leg, making you giggle even more. “I’ve met the man only a handful of times but like, I need to understand what’s going on here. ‘Cause the Bucky I know is scary, okay? Frowny face like the Grumpy Cat, metal arm that’s hella intimidating and barely says a word. That’s your type? Broody and silent? ‘Cause you could’ve told me, girl.”
Her description of Bucky almost sounds like another person altogether.
Bucky smiled at you.
He said more than a word, too, that’s for sure. His constant amusement over your antics and your teasing came out in his low and breathy chuckles, and ‘intimidating’ is a word you’d scratch off the vocabulary when describing him.
The soft strand of hair which had escaped from his bun and framed his face made him look so… soft.
Reserved and shy—those were words that you’d place under his image.
But god; so pretty. The visit to Barnes Auto seems painted in ocean blue and hearty laughs.
“Oh my god.” Sarah widens her eyes in front of you, and that’s when you realize how hard you zoned out for a second. “You’ve got dreamy eyes— tell me before I sit on top of you and pull it out of you!”
Laughing again, you put your hands up in surrender.
“Okay, okay— speak lower, my god, you’re gonna wake up your kids.” Sarah flips you off at that, and sits with a straight back as if to say ‘I’m listening’. You straighten up too, sitting with your back to the sofa. “This might disappoint you, but here it is: there’s nothing else to say, S. The man is hot as an August afternoon, I wanna take a lap in the blue of his eyes or some other poetic shit and…” in your head, Bucky laughs. On Sarah’s floor, you sigh deeply. “He’s got the prettiest laugh I’ve ever heard.”
She squeals. “You made him laugh?”
“Yeah.” You kick her lightly on her thigh. “Shut up, you know I’m funny.”
She scoffs at you. “Sure—you’re funny. But making a Wilson laugh is at least ten times easier than making that man laugh.”
“Is he really that broody?” You can’t help but ask.
Sarah gives you a pointed look. “The first time I met him it was at a barbeque for Sam’s birthday. He was real nice, charmed all the elderly women into liking him, even made AJ and Cass laugh, but he spent the whole night talking to the old guy running the grill or the other army buddies that Sam invited.”
“I can see that. He came off as private and a little bit shy at the first moment.”
“‘Shy’, god, I gotta tell Sam this shit, hold on,” Sarah whips her phone out of her pocket and you know better than to try and stop her.
“I meant reserved, okay? You got what I mean.” You give another light kick to her thighs, whining to yourself more than anything.
Sarah continues typing and only gratifies you with a snort as an answer.
When she deems herself satisfied with exchanging the latest gossip with her brother — you can only imagine how silly he must think you are, getting a crush on a man more than a decade older than you who most likely doesn’t even glance at young women like yourself — and when she notices that’s truly all there is to your side, you both return to your papers before the night turns into day.
Convincing yourself that Bucky was nice and friendly because you’re such a lost cause is easy.
The man described by Sarah is someone who’s clearly lived a life and as a result, keeps it to himself.
The man you met saw a woman with a car who has a name, and silly jokes like ‘do you know how to change tires, Mr. Mechanic’ so of course he was amused.
You sleep without checking your phone repeatedly and by the time you wake up and have breakfast, classifying the silly crush you’ve developed as hopeless and equally as amusing as Bucky found is simpler.
It’s not as if it could go anywhere.
What are the chances that a man like that goes for someone like you?
Not to sell yourself short or anything—you were quite the catch.
Being a catch, unfortunately, didn’t mean you fell under the radar of a Bucky.
He was thirty nine, you reminded yourself.
He was a veteran, a broad, tall and stupidly beautiful man who probably went out with gorgeous and magazine-like women, or perhaps he was more of a Letty Ortiz type—well-versed in cars just like him, intimidating and badass like him too.
And apparently, Bucky was also an early riser.
When you finally do check your phone, you have your first mini heart-attack of the day and you’re only on your second cup of caffeine.
Your screen reads:
Bucky Barnes
7 notifications
If anyone were around to see how fast you swipe open your phone, you’d find it in yourself to be embarrassed.
When you read the messages, you start laughing behind your hand.
Hey, good morning Lady Bullet.
So. First things first: I was gonnna check your car last night but the electrical malfunction didn’t let me, so I left it for this morning
Now… the first time it happened I thought ‘cool, I’m gonna have to open her entire door’, but now I’m just thinking your car’s tryna tell me somethin
Maybe ‘he’s old and behind on good music’ or something like that? It keeps playing good shit I never heard in my entire life every time I turn it on
So before I continue: who’s the dude with the cool voice singing about howling and coming back to me? I must know
Second: you still want those updates? I fixed the wires issue (it was minor, don’t worry about it) and now I’m gonna analyse the rest
Shit. Sorry abt all these messages… I hope you don’t mind
If Bucky has any issues with voicing his thoughts in person, the problem never transferred to technological communication.
After reading the messages at least three times and losing all trail of everything you had cemented on your head since coming back from Sarah’s house the previous night, you type away your answers:
Good morning, Bucky! :D
I don’t mind at all. I’m usually the one row-texting my friends about every cute animal I see roaming around the city, so. No place to judge here lol
And yes! Gimme ALL the updates, pretty please. Tell Bullet I miss her :(
The subway is disgusting, people are awful and rude and I miss her sweet smell almost as much as I miss not fearing running into rats every morning </3
Tell her that. She’ll appreciate it
The artist: Hozier. The song you heard is called ‘It Will Come Back’ and that’s my songgggggg. I’m glad you liked it!
You have to physically stop yourself from texting even more.
To the surprise of absolutely no one, getting through the day after hearing from Bucky is twice as hard.
For some reason, you keep his incoming messages to yourself.
Not even when you receive the updates on Bullet which he told you he’d send, you say a word to anyone.
It feels good to keep your conversation private.
Even if for the first day, all the conversation entails is teasing around your car.
Bucky’s reply to your row of messages has you doing your best to hide laughter during class.
I’m not talking to the car.
(She says she misses you too.)
Thanks for the name. I’ll make Peter play some of his music.
You had me fooled for a second!
I thought you were those people who hate the ones (me) who talk to inanimate objects :(
I’ve been talking to myself and everything around me since I’m 6.
Don’t worry, no judgement here.
Whew.
Usually, Sarah or your sister are the first people you go to whenever you want to share something exciting, but Bucky and his updates are something you cling onto very closely.
During the first day, he sends you a few other messages with pictures of Bullet’s insides and follows up with short and objective explanations of what he’s doing, all followed by texts that continue the conversation he started with the morning messages.
It makes you giddy.
Sure, you had spent an entire night convincing yourself to dim down the ridiculous crush you have on a man that’s very far off your league, but the description Sarah gave plays on a loop in your mind and you think well, maybe he’s seen a friend in me.
Bucky is a quiet soul, and someone who mostly falls on the total opposite side of that spectrum, befriending someone like him feels special.
That’s why I’m so excited to talk to him. He feels like a special friend.
Convincing yourself of that lasts only twenty-four hours.
With the next couple of days come more text messages about Bullet’s state, but more than that, conversation continues to flow like a river.
Talking to Bucky is so easy that you often find yourself forcibly tearing your gaze from the stupid screen.
On Friday, you discover that Bucky teaches auto shop mechanical engineering classes on Saturdays.
He texts you a picture of three man standing in front of Bullet with puppy, heart eyes, and the caption “she’s got admirers.”
Is that Peter? The one in the red hoodie?
How on earth did you guess that.
Bucky. You told me he’s got the ‘forever a teenager’
face. That’s the only one from the group that could POSSIBLY
be him.
Fair point
Question
Why do you punctuate your sentences so perfectly
…
Maybe so people know when I’m asking
a question…
you know… instead of saying ‘question’
I see you’re trying to make fun of me
But it ain’t working
proper grammar can’t have me i’m a rebel
wow… this is the man ppl try to convince me
is so ‘intimidating’.
people are ridiculous.
anyway. tell Peter to get away from my girl
she doesn’t fuck with boys who don’t know how to change tires
i mean, honestly. has he done it already?
say he has.
Bucky takes a while to answer that one and when he finally does, it’s with a picture.
On the screen, Peter’s clothes and face are stained in grease, but the grin on his face and the thumbs up are what make you laugh.
He’s just changed a tire.
There’s also the hand (and thumbs up) of Bucky himself on the right corner of the image, and you keep that one on your phone instead of deleting it.
Seeing Bucky again feels both like a distant thought and the sun creeping into the horizon.
For two days, you two share messages that go from what is wrong inside of Bullet (one problem leading to another, and your chest tightens at the imaginary bill growing with each update from Bucky) to things like: music, Bucky’s classes, what led you to medical school, how you and Sarah met.
You and Bucky slip between the formal client-employer conversation to other subjects like you two have been friends (or, at the least acquaintances) for a while now.
When you’re at work on the weekend, Sarah corners you at your booth with a smile on her face.
“So, any updates from Barnes?”
You’ve known Sarah long enough to recognize her ‘game’ face and you know she’s asking it with that cool tone to hide something else she knows.
What that is, you can’t know. What you do know is you’re not ready to expose just how talkative Bucky is with you yet.
“Yeah, he texted me some stuff about the state of Bullet.” It’s the truth, even if not the complete version. You put on your workplace smile for a patron that passes behind her, then sigh deeply when they’re out of sight. “It’s not gonna be cheap, but at least he’s telling me I can do some stuff separately.”
Sarah hums at that and looks around the restaurant with the same workplace smile intact on her face.
“That’s it?” She prods, lifting an eyebrow.
You give her a pointed look and smile back. “And he’s really nice,” you finish. It’s all the information you’re willing to give right now, and it seems to satisfy her for the time being.
Sarah nods, pouting a little bit with a smile.
“Okay.” She starts moving back to her area. “Lemme know if you need anything, babe.”
You think about how nice her offer is, but in the end, it’s not Sarah who comes around with a saving grace to you.
It’s the universe.
On Monday when you’re preparing to leave home for school, you get a text message from the board notifying the students that all morning lectures had been canceled due to a hazard during a presentation, and since both of your teachers were unavailable and you had no classes that afternoon, you were free.
That would’ve been nice, but only a bridge between you and more schoolwork hadn’t it been for the message you also receive from Bucky first thing in the morning.
I’ve heard the album and you were right: can’t pick a favorite
Her voice is heavenly
“Hurts Like Hell” might be my favorite, tho
Anyway, good morning. Since you gave me the green light
I’m gonna start working on the main problems of Bullet today so
you’re one day closer to having her back
If she spills any oil on me again I’m holding her hostage
for another day or two just bc I can :)
The messages stare at you and you glance towards the clock—it’s almost 7am, only thirty minutes since Bucky’s sent the message.
He’s probably only started, and even if he had, he’d told you that Bullet would take days of meticulous work.
Everything inside you is vibrating to ask him the question.
The mere idea of watching Bucky work — on your baby, nonetheless — for hours instead of only a few minutes makes you float around your tiny living room.
Would that be inappropriate?
Entirely. Bucky’s job is his job and why would he want a client watching over his back while he does it? You know damn well how much you loathe people walking around you as you try to concentrate on something important.
But at the same time....
God, you’d sell both your kidneys for a lazy Monday morning watching that man work in a car.
It’s cliche, you fucking know it is, but it became crystal clear to you the second you saw his grease-stained hands why that cliche existed in the first place.
Before you can second-guess yourself too much, you type out the only thing you’re brave of:
A hook.
A simple little bait— that’s a job you’re intimately familiar with.
good morning to both of us!!!
guess who doesn’t have Behavioral Science at 8am on a monday morning?!?!?
(tip: she’s a disaster but with great musical taste.
she owns an old-ass car too, but it’s a sick ride
she misses that ride… sighs..)
It takes Bucky less than a minute to answer you.
!!!!
cant imagine a happier monday
why on earth did u submit yourself to 8am lecutres
do u hate yourself
The message made you laugh out loud, and you leaned against your kitchen windowsill thinking about how many people knew that Bucky Barnes was a sharp-tongued, witty fucker.
wow that’s so much punctuation coming from u! thank u thank u
and get this: after BS (yes thats how we call it, ask S) i’d have Immunopathology ‘till lunch!
(after that it used to be clinical trials all afternoon but those are still on hold bc of, you know, the whole world being as it is)
The tiny gray that Bucky’s typing pops up a couple of times quickly, then slowly they disappear and take a while longer to come back.
It’s weird to see someone’s uncertainty even through text, but it helps you to see him sitting somewhere in his shop, his (unfairly) gorgeous hair tied and his left hand scratching at his nape.
After a couple of minutes, Bucky’s reply comes in and your heart takes a leap.
You almost fly off running towards the bathroom.
do u miss her like ‘i cant wait to see her again’
or like ‘this is me cutely asking does it bother you if i watch
mr barnes’.
cue old me feeling old for being called like my dad
but yeh you can if you wanna
You barely catch his last incoming messages before you hop inside the shower to get ready.
Before you get in, you send him. tell my baby i am coming!!!!!!!!!! :D
It takes you a little more than ten minutes to shower, lotion up and put something cozy to sit in uncomfortable places all day, surrounded by grease and dust and grit. Another person might think it’s stupid to get ready to get dirty, but you love it.
Even if you weren’t going to see Bucky, your day only starts after you’ve taken good care of yourself, put on an outfit you liked and ate something good.
If today you put in a little more effort with your hair or picking a cool pair of shoes, no one else needed to know.
On the subway, you saw the last messages Bucky sent you.
cool cool
peter’ll be at the reception he’ll show u to where iam
morita n steve will be here too somewhere pretend u dont see the idiots its ok
By this time, you already knew most of his colleagues by name at least.
Peter — the young one who was taking classes to join the team — worked at the reception and took care of accounting, Steve and Morita were the other mechanics and a man named Gabe working with sales and imports of the pieces needed.
Out of all of them, Peter and Steve were the ones that slipped by the most in Bucky’s daily commentary about life at the shop.
The numerous ‘hold on steve’s an idiot ill brbb’ that you got were only matched by the other random pictures you had of small “accidents” (cookie theft) and messages written on the board of the main office.
On your first visit there, you’d missed the green board on the wall behind Bucky’s desk, but he’s sent a few pictures now of the chalk-written messages on it.
(The last one had been anticipated by: miss lady bullet how ok are u men being… men?
if there is a dick drawn on that board i want you to know i will rate the drawing from a 0 to 10 idc whose feelings i will hurt
excellent. rate this
Followed by a picture of the board with
‘horny n sad .
experience: life
5/10 recommend’
and a drawing of a dick with a santa hat on it. an arrow pointed to the santa hat also said: ‘how far away is xmas i need to feel alive’.
You had laughed for three minutes straight at that thing.
that is the most relatable shit i have read in AGES
who did that : genius . brilliant. stupendous. never done before !
Bucky didn’t answer you for hours after that.)
You had packed into your small backpack a couple of your best sandwiches (AJ & Cass approved), your water bottle, among other things. Your phone was fully charged and you had even brought a textbook — there was no way you could spend hours without doing at least some of your reading — and perhaps, by the end of the day, you’d have met some of Bucky’s idiot and spent a good time doing something you missed without even having to leave.
You’d feel a little more embarrassed about how thoroughly you thought this through, but organization was a big part of your life.
Anyone close to you knew that about you and if Bucky were to be one of those people — as friend, or just as your trusted mechanic — then he’d eventually get to realize that, too.
You could be a mess; he witnessed that first things first, but most of the time, you held it together.
The blue and black auto shop sign makes imaginary vines grow from your core all around your stomach, but you breathe through them and go inside.
Whirring of machines and metal, loud and old rock’n’roll music and a tv somewhere you still can’t pinpoint invade your senses, but the reception which you skimmed past it the first time you drove in here is empty.
Bucky had said something about Peter being there, but the balcony is empty and the door that leads to the room behind it is ajar.
You stand there for a moment with your fingers hooked on the straps of your bag, not wanting to step further inside just yet, and while you look around the noise of the door pulls your gaze back to the balcony.
“You’re not Peter,” you say with the hint of a smile.
The man that you think is Morita pauses at the sight of you, then chuckles, shaking his head. “‘m most definitely not, no. Are you his girl or do you have a car here?” He asks naturally, and the assumption makes you feel that familiar warmth on your cheeks.
You shake it away with laughter. “No, I’m not his girl. My baby’s here—the 1967 Impala.” You clear your throat. “You’re Morita, right?”
His eyes widen comically, and the mustache above his lips twitch as his smile widens.
“She’s yours?” He nearly yells. “Oh, shit. And, yeah, that’s me.” Morita comes out from behind the balcony and extends his hands to you. “Nice to meet ya. He told me you were coming.”
You shake his hand with a smile reflecting his.
He’s even bubblier than you’d expected. All that you’d gotten from Bucky’s messages about Morita was that he loved singing his tunes as loud as possible everywhere, and he was responsible for most of the defamation on Bucky’s board, apparently.
You followed him inside the shop and saw a man with a mask working under a white BMW, and right at the back in the same place you’d left her, was Bullet.
Bullet and Bucky.
He was in combat boots, clear blue jeans that had minor rips at the thigh — they looked to be there from use and not fashion, and that seemed to make it even cooler — and a black, loosely fitted t-shirt. His black and golden prosthetic looked even prettier under the daylight, and just as you imagined on your way here, the hair was tied at the back.
You saw him before he saw you.
“Sarge! Lady Bullet’s here.”
Damn, you quite liked that.
“Is that nickname gonna stick?” You asked, looking away from Bucky to where Morita stood a little behind you. “‘Cause I dig it. I sound like a comic book villain.”
When you looked back to Bucky, he was leaning with both arms still on Bullet’s hood, but his head was leaning to the side now to watch you.
He was staring with parted lips and his eyes seemed the bluest when he was looking at you, directly.
There was already a stain of grease precisely along the right side of his jaw.
As soon as you saw it, you knew it was gonna drive you insane for the right of your damned day—that subtle, almost charcoal like stain that made him seem like a Michalangelo ready to be painted.
Bucky opened a small smile in your direction, then nodded towards the back where he was.
“You don’t look like one, though. Sorry to break it to you.” He said it with softness, like it was a compliment.
You still pouted a little. “I’d love to be a villain. Cool powers, usually very sound and wise.”
“No Immunopathology classes,” Bucky adds with a very serious face.
“Precisely. Only a slave crow that’s also kind of your errand boy and cool black clothes with capes.”
Bucky finally cracks with his serious face, and chuckles looking down at the car. “Ever since you told me Bullet was almost named Tessaiga, I can’t erase the fact from my mind that you’re a nerd. Now you talk about wanting to be a fairy witch.” He looks up at you again with a side smile. “You and Peter are gonna get along well.”
“You don’t get to make fun of me for quoting Maleficent if you know which movie I’m talking about, Bucky,” you scoff at him, and when you look up at Morita to try to pull a sympathetic ‘am I right’ laugh out of him, you feel a little bit caught.
Morita’s eyes are glancing between you and Bucky with a lot of amusement, a smirk planted on his face.
“She’s right.” Morita announces happily, and laughing, he turns away. “I am leaving,” he sing-songs. “Goodbye.”
You watch as he walks away, then turn around back to Bucky again.
There’s an exchange of glances that share the same thought: delightful.
You walk all the way back to the open part where Bucky is working, and when you’re at the front of Bullet and you can see the hood open and Bucky from up closer, you offer him a smile.
“She gave you any more trouble?” You ask with a grin.
He narrows his eyes at you.
You’re referring, of course, to Bullet spraying oil all over Bucky a day ago.
“You and her think you’re very funny,” he says with a serious face, but somehow you can see much better now the mirth and the smile hiding underneath it.
“It’s ‘cause we are,” you chuckle. “But really— you don’t mind me hovering in your shop for today?”
Bucky’s resolve fails again and his play serious face is replaced with that same chuckle and smile you were first greeted with.
“I told it’s fine.” He points with his rag to Bullet’s engine. “I’m gonna be here all day, to be honest. And it’s not like I’ve never had someone watching me—Peter should be back soon, I thought he’d make it back before you did, but he went to get Gabe and that disaster he insists on driving.”
“Alright.”
The bench you said no to the first time is closer to where Bucky is working this time, and part of you wants to ask him if he moved it closer for you, but the other part that’s too shy to even assume he would do something exclusively for you keeps you quiet and leads you to it in silence.
For the first hour of the morning, you watch as Bucky moves, adjusts and analyzes pieces like it’s all part of a math equation and it’s all part of working it.
He also doesn’t seem too worried about being watched—he is a teacher, after all, and a lot of transmitting knowledge came from the demonstrations and observation.
The student in you wondered how easy it was to learn from Bucky.
When he starts pulling apart a piece of the engine, you do some of your reading and note-taking.
Bucky eventually pulls conversation out of you with a: “You still remember which tools are which?”
You lift your eyes from the book, trying to contain a smile. “Sure.” Then you wiggle your phone at him. “I also have Google.”
With a quick search, you open an image with a spread of all the tools and their names while Bucky laughs in the background, and you leave the textbook aside to pull the chair close to him and hold his tool box for a helping hand.
“To think the most helpful tool we’ve ever created is this little algorithm that just— it finds anything and everything you need. Fucking crazy.” Bucky gets on top of the roller and slides under the car. “Pick-up tool ‘67, please.”
“You use ‘please’. Nice.” You snort a laughter, remembering how your dad would just say ‘you’re welcome’ if you tried prying a please out of him.
“My ma raised me, Y/n,” he replies sassly, getting the tool you pass him without looking.
“I can see she did.” You lean against the car, getting comfortable in the chair and with the tools. “Do you think we could still create something more useful than google?”
There's a moment of silence under the car, and you’re thinking that maybe Bucky doesn’t enjoy being questioned random, weird questions while he works, but when he replies you just notice he was thinking.
“Humans are quite handy when we want to be. Most of the things we created came out of necessity, though, and we’ve stopped having the need for things a long time ago if we stop to look at it. Getting comfortable was kinda shitty for us, in general, don’tcha think?”
With Bucky under the hood, it is so much easier to live through conversations with him.
You realize that coming here while he worked might’ve been the best decision you ever made—getting used to that man’s mind, his hidden dry humor and curious wit was hard enough without him looking at you.
“A lot of things have been shitty for us,” is what you finally reply. “I think a lot from a health point of view, because, duh—of course I do, but I keep seeing the exhaustion of just… everyone, you know? Mental and physical. We’ve been buried in a lot of things that are shitty for us, I guess.
“You’re gonna have to get me a cup of coffee if you’re gonna dive with me in my existencial and sociological crack at barely nine am, Y/n.”
Bucky’s laughter makes you smile, and you tell him to wait while you go seek Morita for a direction to the coffee machine.
When both of you have your cups of coffee by Bullet’s side, conversation flows for yet another hour easily.
Without the obstacle of keyboards, you and Bucky can develop in depth a little bit of all the topics you’d approached in the last five days.
Inside the quiet and witty Sargeant, there was a deep, lively soul.
The way Bucky took a few moments sometimes to answer a question or to ask another one of his gave you time to see the little islands of topics you two navigated through, and when you ask him if he’s hungry about another hour later and if he’d like a lunch, Bucky slides out from underneath the car in a comic speed.
“You brought food?” He asks with raised eyebrows.
You nod. “Whenever Sarah, the boys and I go somewhere, I’m in charge of the bags. I kinda grew used to taking food to places,” you tell him.
“And—” he scratches the stubble on his throat and ah—That’s how he got himself dirty. “There’s one for me, too?”
“‘Course there’s one for you, Bucky.” You resist the urge to roll your eyes at him because he looks so earnestly surprised at it that all you can do is look at him like obviously. You can’t be too sassy with a man who looks that much like a happy puppy. “AJ & Cass love my meatballs sub, but I’m always open to notes. I kinda remember how people like theirs—consider it one of my villain superpowers.”
Bucky accepts the one you offer him with a smile, still shaking his head at you and muttering about ‘villain and Bullet, does she really think’ under his breath.
It’s finishing your sandwiches and nodding to each other like two food-appreciators that Peter finds you both.
“Hey!” comes a voice from the threshold between inside and the outside patio.
You both look up to find a slender, tall boy with sand hair and a sweet smile waving at you two. He’s wearing a black hoodie that’s red on the inside — fucking sick, you think — and he glances between you and Bucky.
“Are you Y/n?” He asks.
“That’s me.” You wave back. “Hi, Peter!”
“It’s nice to meet you.” He leans against the arch’s bricks. “I know how to change a tire, now,” he announces proudly.
That makes you laugh with your head thrown back, and you cover your giggles with the back of your hand.
“Congrats.” You lift the last bite of your sub to him like a toast. “Long overdue, my guy.”
He cackles at your response, and Bucky chokes a little bit on his sandwich at your side.
“I can’t even argue.” Peter lifts his hands in fake surrender, then points with finger guns to the balcony. “I’m heading to my place. Just scream if you need me.” He looks in Bucky’s direction with a lot of amusement written on his face. “Good to see you laughing so early in the day, Sarge. The three pick ups arrive in two hours and Gabe is already setting things up to finalize Morseu’s cars.”
“Thanks, kid.” You see Bucky give him a thumbs up, and Peter is gone.
“You’re a busy man, Sargeant,” the nickname slips by before you catch yourself, and you turn to him with wide, apologetic eyes and a ‘sorrow’ at the tip of your tongue, but it dies there when you see the crinkles forming in the corner of his eyes at it.
He chuckles, stealing a glance of you from under his long eyelashes.
“You know what they say about empty shops,” he points with two fingers to his own temple.
“That I do.” The devil’s personal workshop is what people said about it.
You imagined that to be even more true to someone who’s seen enough things to steal the peace of your mind than the usual.
“He seems like a nice kid,” you comment with a head tilt to the direction Peter just left in.
Bucky picks the little ball of foil wrapper from your hand and after mixing with his, shots directly into the trash several feet from you two.
“He is.” He looks back at you when the trash is discarded. “But you callin’ him kid is funny; you two are the same age, darlin’,” he says with a chuckle. The darlin wrenches all the screws loose inside your chest, but Bucky continues, totally oblivious to the mess he leaves behind. “He was the youngest one in the unit.”
Wait—Peter served?
“He was there with you guys?”
Bucky looks back at you with a somber face, and nods more curtly. “His one and final tour, that’s for sure.”
There’s a thick and heavy heartbeat, and you know that whatever is occupying Bucky’s mind at this moment are the fathoms and jaded pieces of a past that is far from pleasant to remember.
You take a deep breath, and lean in closer. “Was it there you guys started flocking around him like mother hens?” You ask with a serious, low and theatrical whisper. “‘Cause it’s adorable and in every picture of you guys, I don’t know if you noticed.”
Bucky seems to blink slowly away from the place his mind took him, but when yours words register, he start laughing at you.
“Mother hens?” He asks with a smile.
“Yeah. I mean, yesterday morning you sent me a picture of Steve putting a blanket over him with earmuffs on. That’s the most instinctive and adorable part of hens.”
Bucky shakes his head at you, and the conversation seems to drip back into the water of the river.
You knew when you came that you wouldn’t be able to stay all day—both you and him have busy lives and Bucky would soon be too busy to pay attention to you, and his shop would be bustling with even more life.
When you try to insinuate you should leave before he gets buys, Bucky says,
“I mean, you can wait for the pick-ups to get here.” He says with eyes on the pieces of Bullet he has on his palm. “I wanna bum a smoke before I get started on them anyway, I can walk you out and tell you a bit about the prices in more detail so you can decide the payment way. If you wanna stick around for a little longer, of course—we could go into the office right now and I’ll explain stuff to you if you prefer going before it gets crazy in here.”
There’s no doubt about the answer.
“I’ll wait.” You lean against the backrest of your chair. “So—if I wanna paint Bullet a cherry red, not that I ever would, Steve’s the man for the job?”
Bucky smiles broadly at your question and picks at his hair, letting it loose and putting it back on a small bun as he answers you.
For a little above an hour, you and Bucky continue talking as he works and you help him out, watching when the silence stretches and he concentrates on something for a few minutes.
It’s so nice that you almost whine when Peter’s voice comes yelling from the front.
As promised, Bucky brings from the office a piece of paper with all the calculation properly done — Peter’s good at his job, and you send him a nice spreadsheet, over Bucky’s shoulder — and he explains to you the only parts that are necessary to get done this time if you want the car working without dangers for a little while.
You nod through it all, still stunned at how everything was properly listed, from the value of the manual labor, to the pieces being touched, removed, cleaned, replaced— Bucky and his boys were thorough, and you even with all that hard and good work, the final value didn’t come close to what most previous mechanics had asked for doing a much shittier and more superficial job. You feel like hugging him.
You’re bouncing a little on your step with excitement as it all sinks in and you notice you won’t be swimming in debt.
Just in gratitude for a really handsome man.
Oh, what a tough life.
“I think by Friday I should have her. I think. If not Friday, then by Sunday she’ll definitely be ready.”
You bounce on your heels a little more, pinning your arms tighter to your sides to avoid wrapping them around Bucky’s shoulder.
“If I thank you one more time you’re gonna run me over with one of the pickups that just arrived, right?” You ask with a sheepish smile.
Morita passes behind Bucky and claps him on the shoulder, and Steve rushes toward the men arriving inside the cars to greet them.
“I will, yeah.” He laughs at you, and waves in the direction of the man. “Let me know when you get home?”
“Yes, Sarge,” you reply readily, the rank escaping your lips again.
Bucky smiles with the same crinkle on his eyes and tucks the loose lock behind his ear.
“I’ll introduce you to Stevie and the others next time,” he promises.
It makes you feel hotter on the inside — and at the tip of your ears, too — that he’s still here patiently bidding you goodbye even though other clients have arrived and conversation is bubbling behind you two.
Steve is second in command as far as you know and he seemed to be handling it just fine, so you allowed yourself to steal the last seconds.
“Take care of my lady,” you tell him with a stern tone. “Bye, Bucky.”
“Bye, darlin’.”
There it is again.
Darling.
He says it much like you say his rank— like it slipped out of his lips; like honey spills, leaving a trail behind and a sweet taste on the mouth.
On his cheeks, there’s a faint hue of pink that wasn’t there before.
Your heart starts beating faster, and this right here should be enough evidence that daydreaming and crushing on a man who could engulf your entire existence with his arms and still have you feeling more flustered and suffocated under his gaze was definitely out of your handling league.
This man is too much.
With a final smile, you turn around to leave, waving goodbye to the boys who look back at you.
It was better like this, you convinced yourself— homeopathic dosage.
Too much of Bucky Barnes and one might as well overdose in all of… him.
So I have some ideas for Loki and Bucky (separately) fanfics that have been rattling in my head for a while but I'm kinda nervous and scared to write and post them. For all of you who write is this normal and how do/did you move past it?
Based on the request by @nessie2183: “What about reader finding out she's pregnant. It was TOTALLY unplanned. How would she handle telling Bucky, how would he handle hearing the news. I feel like in true Bucky fashion he wouldn't have the best first reaction bc he's scared but would totally make it up to reader.” Thank you for sending in this request and I hope you enjoy! :)
Warnings: Cursing. Allusions to an unwanted pregnancy and throwing up. Mentions of periods and unprotected sex. Angst that ends with fluff!
-----
You knew something was up when the smell of sushi had you running for the bathroom on your lunch break.
You hardly ever got sick, let alone so immediately sick that you felt like you were running to beat some invisible timer.
Once you believe everything had come out that will come out, you sat with your back against the bathroom wall, pulling out your phone to google the signs of food poisoning. The sushi was from your favorite restaurant, so the idea that they might have fed you bad fish seemed unlikely, but it still couldn’t hurt to check.
Your eyes glanced over your period tracking app while looking through your home screen and you froze, all the blood draining from your face.
Oh shit.
There’s no need to open the app. You knew it had been a while since you last had your period.
Too long, actually.
Frozen in place, you remained on the floor, eyes blankly staring at your phone screen which has now gone black.
------
You left work early and ran to the nearest drug store -- buying what some might consider way too many pregnancy tests -- before returning home.
Now, you were in a different bathroom, feeling nauseous for totally different reasons, staring at five positive tests.
You were pregnant.
“Oh my god,” you murmured to yourself. And then the tears started to fall.
I’m pregnant.
You covered your face with your hands, taking in deep breaths.
Oh my god.
You lowered your hands, a grin spreading across your face and you breathed out a laugh.
I’m so excited.
The sounds of the front door opening caused you to jump, turning to look outside the bathroom door.
“Doll? You in here?” your favorite voice echoed throughout the house.
Bucky.
“I stopped by the store and grabbed some stuff to help you feel better,” he continued, and you could hear him down the hall as he placed the items on the counter. “We got saltines, soup, tea, ginger ale, bath salts, and I’m prepared to give you a back rub for the rest of the day.” You heard his steps heading toward the hallway. “Hello? Y/n?”
You wiped away your tears, grabbed one of the tests and walked out of the bathroom. “I’m right here, Bucky.”
He met you in the hallway with a smile, and you felt your heart swell as your eyes fell upon your gorgeous husband. You and Bucky had been married for only six months, but they felt like the best six months of your whole goddamn life. And the fact that you got to spend the rest of your life looking at that smile? The way his ocean blue eyes crinkled in the corners? The fact that you were usually the cause of that smile?
You were the luckiest person on the whole goddamn planet.
His smile dropped as he noticed fresh tears welling in your eyes. “Hey,” his pace quickened as he moved forward to wrap his arms around you in a tight hug, cheek resting on the crown of your head, “What’s wrong, love?”
You gave him a small squeeze before you pulled back, smiling up at him. “Bucky, I have news.” His brow furrowed as you lifted your hand and revealed the positive pregnancy test. He gave you a confused look for a second before recognition set in, and you felt his whole body go still.
“You sure?” he mumbled out.
“I took five,” you chuckled, slightly embarrassed at your thoroughness. “They’re all positive. We’re having a baby, Buck.” Tears fell down your face and you smiled.
Bucky pulled you back toward him, his grip on you even tighter from before. You smiled into his shirt. The two of you hadn’t planned on having this happen so quickly. Bucky had said that he wanted to wait a few years to let you two get settled, to make sure you both felt ready. You were still on birth control, but since you were married to a super soldier with….certain enhancements, the two of you still used a condom to make sure all your bases were covered.
There was that one time, almost two months back...at a gala where Thor had brought that deadly Asgardian meade, and Bucky had gotten a bit tipsy and a bit frisky. When you got home from the party things were a bit escalated and a bit rushed. You hadn’t been as careful.
Still, you had always been excited about the idea of starting a family with Bucky. You couldn’t wait to start this chapter with him, to see him as a father. There was no one else you could imagine being a parent with. Having it happen sooner than expected felt more like a dream.
“I’m so sorry, Y/n,” Bucky choked out, and you were instantly brought out of your head and back into the present moment. Your smile dropped, and you felt all the blood leaving your body. “I can’t believe I did this. It must have been the damn gala, I shouldn’t have drank so much and then not used a condom that nigh-”
“Wait,” you cut him off, pulling your head from his chest. You looked up at those blue eyes, now filled with tears. Apparently they weren’t tears of joy like yours were. “Why are you sorry?”
Bucky was shaking. “Because I got you in this situation. It’s all my fault and now you’re pregnant.”
“Situation?” You pulled back more, now out of his arms and you crossed your arms over your body, guarding yourself from the love of your life. “You’re calling our baby a ‘situation?’”
He looked at you with confusion. “I...I don’t understand. I thought you wanted to wait-”
“Well, yeah, but that was because you did. And I was okay with waiting but if it happened sooner I would have still been thrilled which apparently is not the case for you,” you could hear your voice growing more tense and Bucky winced at the sound of it.
“It’s just…” Bucky ran his hands through his hair, trying to collect his thoughts, “I wanted to meet with Helen and get tests done. You know, with the serum and everything running through my veins. I don’t want this baby to hurt you in anyway-”
You let out a bitter laugh, cutting him off. “Bucky, Steve and Peggy had kids and she was fine.”
“But that was different!” Bucky’s voice grew more and more panicked. “Steve’s serum was different from mine. Who knows what kind of shit Hydra put in me, and now that could affect you. I justed wanted to wait two years-”
“God, Bucky, what is with this two year plan? That’s always the number you give when talking about starting a family. Why did you want to wait so long? Did you want to enjoy our marriage just the two of us, or is it something else? Did you hope that you would die on a mission before then and not have to worry about it?”
Bucky froze, and you felt for the third time like you were about to be sick as bile rose in your throat.
“No,” you choked out, more tears falling, “That can’t seriously be it, is it?”
“Love,” Bucky whispered, walking toward you and you took a step back, disgust painted across your face.
“So, what? You would rather die than spend the rest of your life raising a family with me? The idea of being parents horrifies you that much?” A part of your brain knew you were being unfair, yet the anger consuming you was too strong for you to stop.
Bucky’s face crumpled. “Of course not. Doll, let me just explain-” He tried once again to step toward you and felt a second of relief as you walked towards him as well. That relief quickly diminished when you shoved his metal arm aside and walked past him and toward the front door.
“I gotta go,” you bit out, putting on shoes and grabbing your purse. “I need some fresh air. I need….I don’t know. I’ll be back.” Your hand touched the doorknob, but right when you moved to turn it a hand covered yours.
Bucky stood next to you, eyes pleading, a look of pain covering his face. “Please, let’s talk about this.”
You almost agreed, almost took your hand off the handle and allowed this man, the love of your life, to take you in his arms once more and forget this whole situation happened. But then his voice from earlier echoed in your ears.
I’m so sorry, Y/n.
“Bucky, you just ruined what I thought was going to be one of the happiest days of our lives. I love you, but I honestly can’t look at you right now. Not while it feels like my heart is being ripped in two.”
Bucky let out a sob, lowering his head in defeat as he lifted his hand from yours, stepping back from the door.
You lifted your free hand to reach out to him, but stopped short, lowering it back to your side.
“I’ll be back,” you whispered out before opening the door and leaving a devastated Bucky behind.
---------
“I feel like I fucked up that conversation,” you sighed into your phone, head resting on the steering wheel of your car which was currently parked in a lot overlooking one of your favorite views of the city. “I mean, he also fucked it up. I guess we both could have done more to have fucked it up less.”
“Man, your husband sure has taught you to swear like a sailor,” Laura Barton chuckled. You called her as soon as you stopped driving, then proceeded to sob uncontrollably as you gave her the rundown of your no-so-pleasant conversation pregnancy announcement with Bucky.
Laura had become a close friend to you over the past year since Nat passed. You both had loved her so much, and having someone to share stories with about your sassy redheaded friend had been what anchored the two of you together. Now, Laura was the powerhouse mom, wife, woman you relied on for support and strength when needed. And right now? You needed it.
You groaned. “Sorry. I guess I should start being better about that. Seeing that I’m going to have young ears listening to what I say sooner than expected.” You lean back in your seat, resting your free hand over your stomach.
“Don’t worry about it. We’ve been parents for years and Clint still has a problem keeping his language in check. You’ll learn to take the wins and losses of parenting as they come. As for the Bucky situation, I agree that it probably got more heated than both of you planned. I’m sure he’s just as excited as you are. But he has demons he still needs to learn to fight off. Ones that probably make him feel scared and unworthy.”
“He shouldn’t, though. He’s going to be the best dad. The love and warmth he’d brought into my life ever since I met him proves that.”
“And did you tell him that?”
You paused. “No, I didn’t.”
“Well, I’m sure he needed to hear it. Just like you needed to hear that he was happy to be having a baby.”
“So what do I do now? Did I totally fu-mess it up for good?”
“God no, Y/n. Clint and I had a similar situation when we found out I was pregnant for the first time. We were both terrified and excited. We didn’t know if we could safely raise a kid with Clint always having targets on his back. We fought for days about what we were going to do. I wanted him to retire, he felt like his work wasn’t done. In the end we worked it out. It hasn’t ever been easy, but it’s never not been an amazing experience.”
You groaned. “You’re right. I should talk to him.”
“I’m always right.” You heard Clint bark out a laugh in the background followed by the sound of him yelping out a sorry. “Go talk to him. Let him know how you feel and what you need and allow him to do the same. And just remember that he loves you. That part is painfully obvious to the entire fucking world.”
“Woah! We got a curse from Laura Barton? This day keeps getting crazier and crazier.”
Laura laughed. “Let me know how it goes and if you need anything else. Clint says congrats, by the way.”
You smiled. “Tell him thanks. And thank you. For listening, for being here, for everything.”
“Anytime. You’re going to be fine. All three of you. Love you.”
“Love you, too.” You hung up the phone, let out a loud sigh, then turned the keys in the ignition.
------
“Fuck,” you heard Bucky curse as you slowly opened the front door.
“Bucky?” you called out softly. Now you heard the clattering and shuffling coming from the living room to your left and you turned your head in that direction to find your husband sitting on the floor looking up at you, panicked, holding a screwdriver and a piece of wood.
He was sitting next to a half-assembled crib, as well as four stacks of books, five bags of diapers, and a giant u-shaped pillow.
“What’s….” you paused as you tried to process everything you were seeing, “What’s all this?”
Bucky gave you a weak smile. “Sorry. I meant to have this all put together before you came home. These fucking directions suck.” He sighed, putting down the crib pieces and standing up.
“You bought a crib?” Your voice was barely more than a whisper.
He chuckled, turning back at the piles of his haul from today. “Yeah, well, I wanted one less thing to worry about. I called Clint right after you left to ask him what I needed.” Bucky moved to the giant pillow and picked it up. “He said that this was Laura’s favorite thing when she’s pregnant. He joked saying that he’s pretty sure that thing got more action than he did in those nine months.” Bucky chuckled. “Which is fine. Whatever helps you feel more comfortable.”
“You called Clint?” You tried to come up with more things to say other than these simple questions, but your mind kept coming up blank.
“I did. I needed advice. And I needed someone to confirm that I was being an idiot and then tell me how to try to make it better.” He sighed, putting the pillow back on the ground and placing his hands on his hips, eyes trained on yours. “Not that any of this is enough to make up for how horribly I acted earlier. It was shitty, and I can’t even begin to express how sorry I am.”
You nodded, feeling fresh tears welling in your eyes for what seemed like the millionth time during this very long day.
Bucky took your silence as a go ahead to continue. “I have many regrets in my life, doll, but I think my biggest one yet was how I reacted to you telling me that you were pregnant. That I made you believe that I wasn’t so fucking excited, because I am. I’m just also terrified of fucking up, which it looks like I’m already off to a great start.” He let out a half hearted chuckle before continuing.
“I wanted to wait two years just so that we could have time to plan. Not because I thought you weren’t ready to be a mom. God, I think you’re going to be the best fucking mom in the whole world, love, and I am honored to raise a family with you. It’s just, I’m also terrified about being a dad and I wanted to try to plan it and feel like I had some sense of control. Of course I don’t want to die and leave you behind. I want to live fucking forever so that I can spend forever with you. And our kids. I just...I panicked and I fucked it up and I’m so sorry-”
You stepped forward and wrapped your arms around his waist, resting your head against his chest. Bucky stilled for a second, heart pounding in his chest before relaxing into your touch and putting his arms around you.
The two of you stayed that way in silence for a few minutes, allowing your heart beats to sync up as you both started to feel a sense of peace for the first time today.
“I’m scared too, ya know,” you finally whispered into his shirt. Bucky said nothing, just gave you a gentle squeeze. “This is a huge deal, and I’m terrified that I’m going to make so many mistakes and that I’m going to fail. But that’s how it is with everything in life, Buck. We can only control so much, but more often than not things don’t go according to plan, and we need to find ways to make that plan work.
“I think you’re going to be the best dad ever, Bucky. Sure, you’ll mess up and I will, too,” you chuckled, “But from all of the love you’ve shown me, the way you have supported me and encouraged me and built a life with me, I have zero doubt in my mind that you are going to do all of that and more for this kid, and any other kids we may have. I’m scared, but I’m so happy and so excited. And I’m sorry for not giving you time to explain yourself earlier and giving you time to process such a big thing. I shouldn’t have left you like I did. That was wrong. I think my fear took over and then it turned into a dumpster fire of a situation.”
Bucky chuckled. “It sure as hell did.” He tucked a stray hair behind your ear and leaned down to kiss you, and you let out a content sigh into his lips. “I love you, Y/n,” he whispered, then knelt down so that he was eye-level with your stomach. “And I love you, kid.” He leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on your stomach. “I can’t wait to fucking meet you,” he looked up at you and you could see tears forming in his eyes, probably matching the ones that were currently falling down your face. You lifted a hand and used your thumb to wipe away a tear from his cheek.
“I really, really, really hope this kid has your eyes, Buck. I need more of this shade of blue in my life.”
Bucky laughed. “Well, I hope they have your smile, doll. It’s the brightest thing I’ve ever seen, I swear it could give the fucking sun a run for its money.”
You gave him said smile as Bucky stood back up, taking you in his arms once more, your chin resting on his chest as you looked up at him. “We need to start working on our language before this little one arrives.” Your eyes narrowed. “Speaking of which, we need to call the Bartons.”
Bucky furrowed his brows in confusion. “And why is that, sweetheart?”
“Well, first of all, we need to thank them for basically fixing this situation for us. And we might as well ask them to be godparents while we have them on the line…”
-----
Thank you for reading! Feel free to check out my other stuff here. :)
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