finally finished plotting out the rest of the chapters for you are the right one yay!! there will be 6 chaps in total and you can expect the next one tomorrow...but also maybe today if i have an episode idk
edit: coming out on the 3rd because i’m hungover and hate my life
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: you and bucky are friends. period. and you aren't going past that. but the tension between the two of you is rising, and neither of you can hold it in much longer...and there's a road trip.
2k 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, alcohol use
next chapter read on ao3 join my taglist!
You were addicted to Bucky Barnes.
His steel blue eyes, strong jawline, and that debilitating smile. The one that hooked you the moment you set eyes on him. His normally brooding expression would widen, his lips stretching into a genuine grin. Dimples. God, those dimples. But it wasn't just how beautiful or attractive he looked when he smiled. It was the worthwhile fight you had to put up to see it there. You see, Bucky didn't just hand out his smiles freely to any stranger. His smiles were earned, just like his trust. After so many years as the Winter Soldier, he wasn't used to it.
Bucky had been brainwashed and beaten until he didn't even remember his own name, and now that he was out of it, he was still slowly relearning joy. And you were going to be there for every step of it.
Therefore, you cannot fall in love with him.
Well, you might already be failing at that last thing. Just a tiny bit. But you were determined to be a supportive pillar during his healing journey, and not go anywhere farther than best friends.
Yup. Just a couple. Of besties.
You are jumped out of your thoughts at a sudden ding from your phone. Sliding your fingers across the glass screen, you unlock it to a text.
Bucky: Hey, mind if I come over now to fix that unstable chair?
Bucky: Or whatever time works for you.
Bucky: I can't find the smiling face emoji.
You bite your lip. He was unfairly cute. You quickly type back a reply:
R: yeah i'm just at home, u can come over
Sighing, you lock your phone and set it down. Bucky and his obsession with your safety. He had discovered the chair yesterday, and had immediately decided he was going back home to grab his toolbox. You told him it was fine and it could wait, but he insisted. Finally, you whittled him down to coming back tomorrow and he relented, sulking. You managed to distract him by turning on an episode of Sex and the City, which he was oddly invested in. He insisted he was a Miranda.
You sit down on the couch. On the left side, because the right side was Bucky's. God, you couldn't stop thinking about him even when he wasn't there! What were you doing, leaving space for an imaginary man? You huff and sit in the middle.
Out of the corner of your eye, a black strap peeking out from under the couch catches your eye. You pull it out, and incredulously look at the reason you and Bucky had even met in the first place. Your misplaced gym bag! You had figured it lost. Bucky had the exact same one. Black, simple, no logos. Easy to accidentally take someone elses.
It had been two years ago. You had enrolled in a yoga class at a gym three blocks down, after a friend's recommendation. It had been enjoyable and stress-relieving, acting as a physical way you could decompress. You particularly liked the rhythm of stretching and holding. After, you went to pick up your bag from the cubbies they keep at the front. Being exhausted and sweaty, you picked up the first black bag you saw and hightailed it out of there.
In your defense, they looked exactly the same. But the contents of the bag were the opposite of what you expected. Upon opening, you discovered a copy of The Hobbit, a baseball, and a banged up black water bottle. That was it. You checked the tiny pockets in the front, but absolutely nothing. How were you supposed to identify this person and give them their bag back? You sighed. Just your luck.
After lying down in bed and mourning the loss of your brand new pink waterbottle, you decided to go through the bag one more time. You inspected the bottom of the thermos. No name. You rolled the ball around, checking them entire surface, but nothing. Finally, you picked up the book. A new edition, something that could be picked up at any random bookstore. The corners were bent and the pages were frayed, though. Clearly this copy had been well loved by its owner. You flipped to the first page, and there it was.
Barnes.
Nothing else. Just a name. You were greatly confused. Was it a last name? Or maybe they had forgotten to write & Noble? This clearly wasn't very helpful. You wondered what this person was like, to own such a small amount of items. Maybe they were some sort of minimalistic yoga person whose entire belongings can fit in a suitcase.
At least you had been smart enough to keep your phone and wallet on you. Or else, you wouldn't have gotten his text.
Unknown: I have your bag.
Unknown: Did you take mine?
You let out a slightly embarrassing squeal. Who cares if the text was creepy, your bag wasn't lost forever!
R: yeahh i did sorry lol!
R: wait
R: what's your last name?
You watched the three dots with high anticipation. Finally, a responses comes:
Unknown: Barnes
"Yes!"
R: ok perfect! just had to make sure
R: wanna meet up and trade? theres a bar on west 62nd that has 2 dollar mai tais after 7!
R: i'll buy as an apology :)))
Barnes: See you at 7.
When you walked into the bar that night, black bag slung over your shoulder, you didn't expect to see what you did. To be honest, you kind of expected a hippie. But Bucky? With his tall frame and beefy biceps? Yeah, you could deal with that. Definitely.
You walked over to him, sitting at the bar, black bag placed on the stool next to him. Tapped him on the shoulder. He turned his head. Deep blue eyes trained themselves on you. You felt a slight hitch in your breath. He looked shocked. You both stared at each other in silence for a beat before you spoke.
"Barnes, right?" You were proud of how stable your voice was, despite the love-at-first-sight romcom moment you had just experienced.
"Um..yeah. Yeah, that's me." A slight blush dusted the tops of his cheeks. Maybe you weren't what he expected either.
"Sorry, can I sit?" Bucky quickly moved the bag off of the stool. You dropped his bag on the counter, and he fumbled to grab yours. When he handed it to you, your hands brushed. Just the slightest touch, but the butterflies in your stomach amplified by ten.
"Sorry about this whole thing," you began, but he started talking at the same moment. "Thank you for meeting me--" Both of you stop at the same time, and you shyly giggle. The corners of his mouth turn up slightly.
"Ok, I'll go first. I wanna apologize for stealing your bag! I mean, what are the chances that we both own the exact same bag and go to the exact same gym at the same time? By the way, I love The Hobbit too! Have you seen the movies?" You ramble on.
"No, I...haven't seen many movies."
"What?! You need to! They're so good! Anyways, back to my apology--wait, let's get Mai Tais first!"
His hint of a smile is the only response you need.
That night, you enjoy yourself way more than you ever thought you would. Supplemented by the 2 dollar Mai Tais and a sudden urge to know everything about this man's life (including his first name) you and Bucky stayed at the bar until 12 am. You discover that while he is very mysterious about his past, he eventually opens up and tells you bit by bit. In turn, he learns about your parent's divorce and your terrible dating life.
It was fun. He was smart, and funny, but also polite and genuinely kind. Bucky showed interest in what you had to say and listened attentively. He treated every word that came out of your mouth like it was the most important thing ever said.
And if he glanced at your lips for slightly too long, or you stared into his blue eyes until you got nervous, it didn't matter. Because the two of you were going to be just friends, you decided.
He didn't need another stressor added onto his life after his past trauma.
A sudden knock at the door jolts you out of your trip down memory lane. Bucky, here to fix your chair. Great.
You walk over and turn the door handle, and stare at the six-foot-tall man hulking in your doorway, toolbox in hand.
"Bucky, did you run over here?"
He chuckles. "Maybe. Just a tiny bit. A respectable jog! How did you know?"
"Because you're huffing and puffing and you got here in 3 minutes. Bucky, it's really not that big of a deal! I'm not going to break my back because my chair is a little bit wobbly!"
He stalked past you into your kitchen, approaching the offending chair like it was an enemy in combat that he was determined to strike down. "Can't have my favourite girl falling off a chair now, can I? Just gotta--" He flipped it over with ease, kneeling down to inspect the leg. The angle gave you an extremely unfair view of his broad shoulders, jutting out into his toned arms. You wanted to take a bite out of him.
While he fiddles with the wood and opens his toolbox, you open the fridge and take out a pitcher of freshly squeezed lemonade. Grabbing two glasses from the cabinet, you pour two cups. Bucky glances up at you from his position and smiles. Dimples. "You know me so well. Thank you, sweetheart."
You smile back. "Can't have my favourite boy dying of thirst after his run now, can I?"
A strand of hair falls from his wind-swept hair into his eye. His gaze lowers before the moment lingers for too long. He knows just as well as you do what happens then. The thoughts that race through your head. The what-ifs.
He's not interested in a relationship, you tell yourself. You know this because ever since the two of you met, you haven't even seen him ever so much as glance at another person. He didn't date. You didn't ask why, because you're not sure if you would like the response.
"Sam mentioned something about going back to Delacroix in a few days. He invited the both of us," Bucky says as he twists a screwdriver. "Would you wanna go?"
The question warms you. "I'd love to! I haven't seen Sarah in so long, her kids must be...how old?"
"Ten and twelve. Anyways, I thought you'd say that. We're gonna grab coffee tomorrow to work out the dates, I hope you'll come? Good. I can't bare Sam's teasing by myself for much longer."
Of course. Sam was determined to tease you and Bucky about the tension between you two until you get married, apparently. Just last week, he introduced the two of you as a couple to his neighbour. When you and Bucky blushed and profusely denied it, Sam (not so silently) whispered to them that it was only a matter of time.
Bucky flips the chair back over and gestures for you to sit on it. You do, and it feels as solid as a rock. You smile at Bucky. "What would I do without you?"
Date other people without feeling guilty. You don't say that out loud.
Bucky chuckles. "Break your back, clearly."
You get up, intending to give him a friendly pat on the back. Instead, at the touch of your hand on his shoulder, Bucky's strong arms pull you in for a hug. He smells like lemons and warmth. He feels like home. Your heart aches at the thought. You feel his shoulders decompress as he slowly relaxes into the hug, exhaling into the crook of your neck. His stubble gently scratches you.
You wonder how soft his dark hair would feel. Just as you reach up to run your hands through it, Bucky jolts up. His body detaches from you like two magnets from similar poles.
The grimace on his face is clear. He looks slightly ashamed, blush rushing across his face.
He manages to bite out, "Um--see you tomorrow." before practically running out the door, his lemonade completely abandoned.
And if you saw a tent in his pants, you pretend like it didn't happen.
a/n: hope you enjoyed! i hope to have the next chapter up in the next few days, ty for reading! (p.s. bucky being a miranda is 100% canon)
some stories are so tightly written that you don't need to expand upon anything because they've already plugged every hole. some stories are so loosely written that they're unable to hold anything substantial in place and are about as interesting to poke as a glob of jelly. and in that sweet spot between airtight and jellyboned, when stories have lots of interesting characters and ideas but don't utilize them to the fullest, when thoughts are half-finished and sometimes contradictory, when they try to fit all the cool ideas into a coherent story and end up leave messy plot threads and broken pieces with jagged edges strewn about the floor, when even the creators throw up their hands and say "hell if i know" to over half the questions asked - those are the sort of stories that spawn the most beautiful fandom ecosystems.
