summary: you, bucky, and sam meet up to work out the road trip. but when you get there, there's a certain someone from your past..one that bucky really doesn't like.
1.7k wrds.
includes: friends to lovers, LOTS of yearning, crushes, angst, forced proximity, only one bed, fluff, slow burn (kinda), female reader, no use of y/n
cw: eventual smut
previous chapter read on ao3 join my taglist!
You stare at the ceiling and sigh. Lying in bed, it was easy to go over everything that had happened that day. To over-analyze and pick apart interactions you had. Especially with Bucky.
Lately, it had only been Bucky running through your thoughts.
You though about a lot of things. His eyes. The corded muscles of his arms. The way the cool metal of his fingertips felt against your wrist. That one especially made your pulse race.
God, why were you like this? It made you feel so guilty and perverted. But the thing was, you craved that guiltiness. It felt so good, so wrongfully right to think of him in that way. Thinking about the way his head fell back against the couch, arms spread out across the backing. He was so big and strong. He could easily pick you up and pin you against a wall.
It should have made you wary. He was an ex-assassin! But you knew Bucky would never hurt you. That's what made it really hurt. Not his physical attractiveness, but his soft side. The one that would binge TV with you and cover you with a blanket when you fell asleep.
It was odd, really. The way you simultaneously wanted to put band-aids on his paper cuts and wanted him to pound you into a bed.
And the boner...
You told yourself it was fine. It was purely an anatomical reaction that happened. His body recognized a warm female body, and responded accordingly. Maybe he hadn't gotten action in a while. You secretly prayed he hadn't, even though it wasn't fair in the slightest.
Your thighs rubbed against each other. The wetness that had gathered between your thighs was purely anatomical too. Just a reaction. That's it.
Normally, if something like this happened, you would bust out your trusty old wand vibrator and get it out of your system. But not when it was Bucky. You didn't know if you could look your best friend in the eyes tomorrow if you did that, and thought about how his cock would slowly slide in and out of your hole. Inch by inch. Nope! You weren't gonna do that.
Instead, you rolled over and reached for your phone, the perfect distraction. Your fingers tapped along until they reached Instagram, which you hadn't caught up on in a while. Scrolling down, there was on common theme with all of your mutual's posts. Weddings. Anniversaries. Proposals. Honeymoons. Pregnancies. It seemed like everyone but you was falling in love. Well, reciprocated love, at least.
You wanted that. So badly.
But the one person you wanted that with, you couldn't have. It had become a stupid little mantra in your head: Don't ruin the friendship.
Sighing, you plugged in your phone and drifted off into sleep.
---
The next morning, you walk down to the coffee shop the three of you agreed on. It's a cute place, with a yellow-and-white striped canopy elegantly draped above the storefront. A black chalkboard sits outside, with handwriting advertising a famous strawberry lemonade. Lemonade. The thought brings you back to the previous night, when Bucky forgot about his.
Because of the thing. The thing you are ignoring for his sake and yours.
As you walk toward the entrance, an elderly man notices and holds open the door. You smile and thank him. Just as you start scanning the tables for your friends, the bar catches your eye. Specifically a barista.
Oh, no.
You awkwardly try to back out the door, but the elderly man is gone, and your back makes contact with something solid and warm. A person. You whip around, an apology on your lips, but your words die in your mouth as you see who it is. Bucky.
He steadies you, lightly setting his arms on your waist. "Careful there. What's going on? Why you in a rush?"
You scramble for words, but can't seem to find them. But when you glance over your shoulder, Bucky seems to understand immediately. His hands tighten on your waist, arms going rigid.
Because standing behind the counter, wearing a yellow apron that looks comical on his lanky frame, is Jason.
Not quite ever becoming your boyfriend, you and Jason had a complicated relationship. You would hook up, ghost each other, and repeat. Thinking back on it, you didn't even really like him. Because you were searching for something that only one person could give you. Jason and you had finally decided to stop seeing each other about 8 months ago, and you hadn't thought of him since. Not until now, at least.
Jason hadn't noticed you yet, thank God. You glance back at Bucky. His lips are pressed into a thin line, his jaw ticking. Stepping out of his death grip, you try to think of something to say. Maybe you could try a different spot. But then, like the devil he is, Sam pops up out of where he was sitting in the corner, coffee already in hand.
"Hey, lovebirds! Over here!"
Trying your hardest not to glance at Bucky again, you walk over to Sam, trying to genuinely smile. You were happy to see him, of course, but right now was really not a good time for his jokes.
You half-whisper, "Hey, Sam. Can we um...keep it down a bit?" You gesture towards the bar, where Jason has no doubt noticed you now. "That's...Jason."
"Oh, shit! My bad, my bad--"
"Don't worry about it. It's fine. I just have to get it over with, I think. Bucky?"
Bucky snaps out of the glare he had been leveling Jason ever since he identified him.
To say Bucky didn't like Jason was an understatement. You had told him all about the ups and downs between the two of you, and Bucky had grown to roll his eyes every time he was mentioned.
The most he knew about dating was from the 40's. Explaining 'ghosting' to him was quite the task. Bucky didn't understand why you kept going back to him, even after he left pee on your toilet seat. You couldn't quite explain why you did either.
"Bucky, do you want anything? I'm gonna go order."
"I'm coming with you." The serious look on his face dares you to argue with him. You don't.
"Ohh-kayy. Chill out a bit, will you? We don't wan't you to be on the run for attempted murder."
His anger on your behalf was cute. Some might even call it jealousy, a voice in your head says.
Purely friendly, though. Platonic jealousy. Jason was an asshole, and that's why Bucky is mad. Right?
The two of you stride up to the cashier, where Jason was currently typing away a customer's order. They were moderately busy, with you and Bucky only having to wait for the person in front of you. Finally, you approach the cash.
"Do my eyes deceive me? What are you doing here, stalking my work?" Jason says, smirk on his face. "What's up with your bodyguard?"
Bucky remains silent.
"Hi Jason. I promise I didn't know you work here. This is my friend, Bucky. I'm sure I've mentioned him before?"
"Yeah, sure. What can I get you guys?"
You politely order the largest size of their strawberry lemonade with light ice, and one black coffee. Bucky remains hulking next to you, silent. It's like you can feel his moody shadow lurking over you.
"Okay then, cash or card--"
"I'll pay," Bucky butts in. Despite your protests, you know that this is a losing fight. That was another one of his many green flags. Bucky doesn't let you pay for anything. Something about the Avenger's paycheck being good.
After letting him tapping his card, the two of you stroll to the pickup counter. You lean against it, eyebrow raised.
"What's wrong? Why are you acting so...different?"
Bucky's blue eyes stare into yours, imploring. You feel like he's trying to tell you something through just a look. He sighs, closing his eyes.
"I just...slept really bad. The nightmares."
His words send a pang through you. You knew all about how much he struggles with sleeping, even with all the therapy he's put himself through. The dark circles under his eyes made you want to tuck him in bed and kiss his forehead.
"Bucky...you know you can talk to me whenever you want. I'm right here," you insisted. "I hate seeing you like this. Are you sure that's all it is?"
His eyes drift back up towards yours. A beat.
"Yup." His lips pop on the p. Despite his words, you still feel like there's something he's holding back from you. Oh well. If Bucky doesn't want to talk, you're not going to force him to.
"Ok then. Hey, I think you should go sit with Sam. Look at him, he looks like a lonely puppy! I'll wait for the drinks, don't worry."
Bucky gives you one last unreadable look and stalks over to Sam, his metal arm glinting in the sunlight.
He can be so cryptic sometimes.
As you wait for the drinks, you admire New York in spring. The sunlight streams through the windows in rays of gold, making everything look that much more delicious. Just as you begin contemplating if it's worth going back up to ask Jason for a blueberry muffin, your beverages arrive. One large strawberry lemonade and a pure black coffee. Bucky has a taste for bitter drinks.
You pick them up and walk over to the table. Sam and Bucky haven't noticed you yet, and are still conspiratorially whispering with each other when you approach.
"--eight months! I'm telling you dude, she's not--" Sam abruptly stops when he sees you. He plasters on a fake smile that has a hint of guiltiness behind it. "Look who it is! Now that didn't take very long, did it? Man, you've got to try this coffee, its the best!"
His rambling makes you slightly suspicious, but you decide not to question him. Setting down the drinks, you take the last remaining seat and take a sip.
"Huh. Not bad. How's the coffee, Bucky?"
"Good." His fingers lightly circle the rim, veins in his forearms protruding.
"So, about this road trip. Sounds fun! How are we getting there?"
For the rest of the morning, you, Sam, and Bucky work out the details. You have the weekend off of work, and Bucky is almost always available, so you three settle on leaving in two days. Sam says he can drive everyone there, and claims he's got a really good car for it. The look on his face says the opposite.
This should go well.
a/n: i lowkey don't really like this chapter lol oh well the next one is gonna be better!
summary: After feeling like you aren’t enough for people to stay, your boyfriend reassures you that there is nothing wrong with you.
word count: 2.5k
warnings/tags: insecurities, reader feeling like she isn’t enough, bucky being an amazing boyfriend, just lots of fluff and comfort
author’s note: This is related to this request, I’m sorry that it took me so long! I really hope you like it and that it turned out like you imagined <3
Also to all the writers out there, I was wondering if I could ask you for some advice- I feel like my writing is very repetitive and that I am retelling what happens more than I am really letting the reader be a part of the story and I am not sure how to get away from that kind of writing. I’ve heard that it’s something a lot of new writers struggle with in the beginning, but some tips and tricks would really be appreciated!!
dividers by @cursed-carmine
Having friends had never been something you'd taken for granted.
You'd never been one of those people who seemed to be getting along with everyone without even trying, managing to have a place in all different kinds of friend groups or waking up to a load of notifications from friends who wanted to include you without having to think about it.
In high school, when you'd been at the age where teenagers saw every single thing about their looks and their character as a flaw that had to be fixed, you'd tried so desperately to fit in, there hadn't been much left of you when you'd finally accepted that this kind of world was never something you would be a part of.
And the older you got, the more you learned that it might not be as much of an issue as you always thought it was.
You had your friends, after all.
Sure, you didn't have a dozen of people in your close circe, but if there was one thing that adulthood had taught you, itt was that with all the responsibilities it brought, you actually didn't have that much time to spend with your friends either way.
By now, you'd accepted that you could count the amount of people that were actually your friends off on one hand, that your plans always included the same few people and that Bucky knew all of them by now because there hadn't exactly been a lot to introduce him to.
You'd come to peace with it, mostly.
Still, you couldn't deny that there was still this part of you, the one that had developed when you’d been twelve years old and crying about everyone in your class going to a party you weren't invited to, which told you that your worth depended on what others might think of you.
Because if nobody liked you, what even was the point?
And even though you weren't that kid anymore, the desire to be liked had never really left.
It wasn't as intense anymore, sure, but deep down, you knew that it was as much a part of you as the heart beating in your chest, so you accepted it with the kind of resignation that people developed when their doubts took over and fighting them felt like a task too hard to manage.
When you had first started to receive even less messages than you usually did, you'd just thought your friends were busy. You knew damn well that with how hectic life could get, social contacts were hard to manage sometimes.
It was fine. Surely, it was just a phase that would pass again soon.
Except it didn't pass, not really. That's what made it so bad.
Whenever you reached out to your friends, whether it was texting them individually or sending the location of a new café into the group chat, the reactions were… sparse, to put it lightly.
At first, you'd thought that you had done something wrong and they were mad at you, but when you'd asked them about it, the only answer they gave you was that they were busy.
And they weren't lying.
That much you could see in their Instagram stories, the ones you went through more often than you would ever admit.
Pictures from a party on one account, a vacation dump on the other.
They were living their lives and you loved that your them, you really did, but you still couldn't help but notice that all the plans they made were with people you didn't know.
Friends they had, ones that had nothing to do with you because their social circle wasn't even close to as small as yours was.
You figured that with all the friends they had, having one person more or less in their life didn't really make a difference to them.
And all you could do was obsess over how them leaving was your fault.
Maybe, if you would've just managed to step out of your comfort zone a little more, this wouldn't have happened.
After all, interesting people were never the ones that got abandoned, right? That just happened to the ones who weren't entertaining enough to leave an impression.
Maybe, if you would've talked less and laughed at their jokes a little more, you would've been more likeable.
Maybe then you would still have friends.
Honestly, it probably wouldn't hurt so much if you hadn't tried so hard.
You had, though.
You'd tried so hard to be exactly the kind of friend they might want you to be, the one that was always available, the one that answered texts quickly and gave the right kind of advice no matter the situation.
But apparently, that still hadn't been enough.
You'd tried to hide how much this had been affecting you over the last weeks, but you could only do so much.
And with a boyfriend as perceptive as Bucky, you knew that it would only be a matter of time until he would pick up on your change of mood.
The two of you were currently sitting on the couch in his living room, eating dinner together whilst the soft thud if rain hitting the windows provided some comfortable background noise.
Honestly, the scenario would've been comforting in any other situation.
Bucky had spent the last two hours in the kitchen, cooking a warm and comforting meal that made up for the stormy weather outside perfectly, especially because you could enjoy it from the warm living room with the man you loved sitting right next to you.
He'd been so proud of dinner when he'd plated it up for the two of you, you couldn't help but feel guilty for the way you were just absentmindedly pushing it around on your plate.
It tasted good, that wasn't the issue. Bucky's cooking skills had improved so much since you'd first started to teach him how to navigate the kitchen again after he'd admitted that he didn't actually know how to do something so domestic anymore.
You really wanted to just enjoy it with him, to have a nice and cozy evening without letting your stupid insecurities destroy it.
But you couldn't.
The heaviness in your heart was even worse today than it usually was, not because anything in particular had happened but because you knew that it was only a matter of time until you wouldn't have anyone anymore.
It wouldn't take much longer until Bucky would realize that he could do so much better than what you had to offer, and then he would leave.
And with him, the Avengers would be gone too, which would leave you completely and utterly alone and there was nothing you could do about it.
You could try, sure, but there was nothing you could do to stop the inevitable.
You were so deeply lost in thought, you didn't even notice that Bucky had been staring at you for the last few minutes already.
"Do you not like it?"
Your head snapped towards your boyfriend, who was looking at you with an expression that usually meant he was trying to understand something he couldn't exactly figure out yet.
"What?"
"The food," Bucky clarified, gesturing to your full plate. "You barely ate anything. I figured there might not be enough salt in it for you but-"
"Buck, no. It's perfect. I'm just… not hungry, that's all."
The fact that he was now thinking that you didn't like his cooking only made you feel worse, because that wasn't it at all.
The knot in your stomach was just too tight for you to have any kind of appetite.
Unable to look at him any longer, you lowered your gaze to your plate again, forcing yourself to take a bite just for the sake of it.
Bucky really wasn't having it, though.
Out of the corner of your eye, you could see how he put his plate down on the table before he got up from where he was sitting, moving so he was kneeling in front of you, gently taking your plate away from you aswell.
"C'mon sweetheart, talk to me. What's going on?"
Sometimes, his attentiveness really was a curse more than it was a blessing. And with him sitting in front of you like that, his beautiful eyes so full of worry and concern, you couldn't keep this from him any longer.
"I just… I'm not really much of an interesting person, am I?"
Bucky's brows pulled together in confusion, his expression turning a little disbelieving now. "Of course you are, doll. Where is this coming from?"
You could already feel your throat tighten uncomfortably, the way he said it so convinced and certain, like he didn't even have to think about his answer twice whilst it was all you've been thinking about over the last few weeks.
"Well, I'm not exactly the person with the biggest amount of friends, am I? And the few friends I do have don't really hang out with me anymore, so there has to be something I'm doing wrong, right? I wouldn't be this unlikeable otherwise."
The words were all but tumbling out of your mouth now, the dam that had been holding every single one of your doubts and insecurities back finally breaking.
"Everyone's leaving, Bucky, and I really don't know what the hell I am supposed to do to stop it and-"
You couldn't help the way your voice broke, the hitch in your breath dangerously close to a sob as Bucky pulled you into his arms, properly sitting down on the floor so he could put you down in his lap, completely wrapping his arms around you like that was enough to top you from falling apart.
Unfortunately, it really wasn't.
Tears were streaming down your face now, shoulders shaking with the sobs that were ripping from your throat, your boyfriend's embrace giving you exactly the kind of comfort you needed.
And Bucky didn't try to stop you from crying, neither did he try to fix anything right now.
He just… held you. He gave you the oppurtunity to just let go for a moment, to share those ugly and raw thoughts with him and show you that he was there for you anyway.
The two of you just stayed like that for a very long time, how long exactly you couldn't tell, though. It was always like that with Bucky, like his embrace was more than enough to stop the concept of time from making sense anymore.
And Bucky didn't rush you. He just gently rocked you back and forth, his metal arm soothingly moving up and down your back as his other hand cradled your head to his chest.
When the tears finally slowed and you pulled back just enough to look at him again, he carefully brushed some hair out of your face, eyes running over your features like it would help him understand what exactly was going through your head right now. "I need you to listen to me now, alright sweetheart?"
Only when you nodded did he go on, his voice serious in a way you've never heard before.
It wasn't the kind of seriousness that you knew from when he talked about missions.
This felt more personal, like he was talking about something that meant way more too him than anything work related ever could.
"There is nothing wrong with you, and it kills me that you think there is. You are one of the most amazing and interesting people I know, and I love you. If your friends can't appreciate that, that's on them. But I won't let you make yourself small because other people can't see how much of a special person you are."
You knew that Bucky meant what he was saying, you really did, but words somehow still meant so little when words had failed you so often already.
"You're biased, though. Also, I'm your girlfriend. You have to say that kind of stuff."
That made him laugh a little now, a soft smile carefully pulling at his lips.
It wasn't the kind of laugh that was mocking or invalidating your feelings, though. Just the kind which showed that he meant what he said, and that the mere idea of it being a lie a little amusing to him.
"Pretty sure I don't have to do or say anything anymore, love. I'm telling you this because it's true. If you think that my love for you makes me unqualified too answer that question, though, I'm sure that the others would tell you the exact same thing."
You knew that he meant the Avengers by that, but honestly, you weren't sure if that was necessarily true.
"They are your friends, though, not mine."
It wasn't really much of a reasonable explanation, but it made sense to you. To them, you had to feel like an extension of Bucky, which meant that they couldn't exactly say anything bad about you.
Bucky didn't seem to think that at all, though. "Sam told me last week that he would personally kick my ass off the team if I ever managed to mess things up with you. I think it's safe to say that they like you more than they like me by now, sweetheart, and I can't even blame them."
He seemed to notice that you weren't entirely convinced yet, so he just kept going. "I get the feeling of thinking that you aren't enough for people to stay. Trust me, I do. But I also have a very smart and wonderful woman in my life who once told me that my worth doesn't depend on the amount of validation I get from others, because that would never manage to make me feel like I’m enough. And I feel like the things that count for me count for you too, don't they?"
Bucky wasn't wrong- you had told him that, but telling other people things like that was always easier than to believe them yourself. "Well, saying stuff is always easy, isn't it?"
"It is," he agreed. "But you got me and you got the others, doll, and i think it's safe to say that all of us would be more than happy to remind you of how much you mean to all of us as much as you need- especially me. Okay?"
Honestly, it wasn't really okay yet, but after what Bucky'd just said, maybe it was going to be. Sure, there were still going to be days where the feeling of not being enough swallowed you whole and the loneliness felt like a burden too heavy to carry.
But now you knew that you didn't have to carry it alone anymore.
Losing friends was never going to be easy, and honestly? You didn't even want it to be.
Friends were people that you carried close to your heart, which was exactly the reason why it hurt so much when the left.
But you weren't just going to stop caring to avoid the consequences, not when it was such a big part of you- a part that others appreciated, even though you couldn't always see it that way.
And losing yourself over other people leaving?
That sure as hell wasn't going to happen.
Especially not with your boyfriend still looking at you like that, convincing you that maybe, everything was going to work out just fine.
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