Summary: In which your best friend’s brother begins to set you up on dates when you mention that you haven’t been in a relationship in years, but things don’t go as expected.
Warning: angst, pining
Word count: 2.1k (???)
A/N: hi !
all my love to @samingtonwilson for making me not sound like a 6 year old when i write this never-ending series and for being a true queen ! we stan an icon
here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333
Previous part- Part 12 || Espresso Masterlist
To Bucky:
Can we talk?
From Bucky:
Coffee shop at 7?
To Bucky:
Okay.
It almost felt like déjà vu. But this time you were nervous, and not nearly as much as you were confused– a stark contrast to the meeting you had at this very location months ago to start this deal.
It was deserted– for now.
You knew the crowd would pick up gradually as students filtered in for their daily dose of caffeine, so you didn’t have much time.
You took a deep breath, pushed open the door, and let the bell above you jingle. A joyous sound for something so… jumbled up.
Bucky perked up at the noise, pausing momentarily from cleaning the counter.
I got this. I got this.
“Hey.” He sent a tiny lopsided smile your way as you took your place at one of the stools before the counter.
I don’t got this.
“Hey.” The confidence you’d felt just outside was beginning to slip away.
Fuck.
“Can I get you something to drink?” he asked politely, gesturing around to the menus in front of you. It was almost eerie how uncharacteristically silent your surroundings were.
“No, I’m good. Thank you though.”
He nodded as he pulled a stool towards him to sit. The counter separated the two of you. “We have about thirty minutes before the usuals start coming in.”
“Okay.”
Be brave. Be brave. Be brave.
“Did you read it? The letter?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
And it scared the shit out of me.
“Fucking hell,” you cursed, sighing lightly. “I’m so confused, James. It was so fucking confusing.”
“Why?”
“Because of the dates. Every time I thought there may be a hint of something more, you’d set me up on another date with some other guy who I didn’t even like. Did you do it on purpose?”
“No. Not consciously at least. I would never,” his voice slowly trailed off.
“But?” you pressed.
“But I did spend time thinking about it and… reflecting, I guess. And I think my defense mechanism or insecurities or whatever did have a role in it, but I never noticed until you pointed it out.”
“That’s a fucking dick move, you know.”
“I know,” he swallowed, tired eyes on the counter flitting up to meet yours. “I’m sorry. Truly. ”
“And what is it with these?” You pointed to the cups in front of you. “Why is everyone so obsessed with these?”
He leaned forward on his forearms. “I used to write little pieces of poetry whenever you came in. Or messages when you didn’t look like you were having a good day. Just innocuous stuff.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I thought you saw them but didn’t care. A bunch of times you threw them away pretty quickly so I kinda figured you were doing it to save me from humiliation. So I just stopped after a while.”
“I didn’t see them.”
“Yes, I know that now.”
“Do you remember some of the stuff you wrote?” you asked hopefully. “Do I get to read it now?”
“All of it.” He laughed and pulled away from the counter. “But you’re not going to see it again. It’s too embarrassing.”
“Why do you hate everything you write so much?”
He shrugged. “I tend to get dramatic a lot. And emotional.”
“That isn’t a bad thing.”
Wordless, he just picked up a cloth to wipe at some glasses he knew were already clean. Until, “Any more questions?”
“Why didn’t you like Rumlow?”
“Oh, come on.” He looked at you like you were kidding, disbelieving. His expression fell when he realized you weren’t. “Really?”
“Really. We’re getting all the skeletons out now.”
“Because-” a disgruntled sigh, “because he was absolute garbage! He was a fucking dick and I already hated him, but then he went and did that whole thing with Dot-“ he gestured wildly to make up for unfound words.
“-And after that I literally couldn’t look at his face without wanting to punch the living shit out of him.”
If it wasn’t clear by now, you could tell by the clench of his jaw that talking about Rumlow triggered something in Bucky.
Deciding to spare his anger before it spiraled through less important explanations, you pointed at the bandage wrapped around his knuckles. “What happened here?”
“Punched a wall.” That was a lie, you could tell. But you didn’t push it any further. “Pulled a Kyle.”
You rolled your eyes at his outdated joke, but he didn’t seem to mind, going back to wiping at the mugs in silence.
You just watched him breathe through it, his shoulders dropping tight tension as seconds passed.
“You know, you never actually told me what happened at the bar,” he spoke up, attempting to change the topic smoothly, but it didn’t go unnoticed.
“How much do you know?”
“Only what Dot told me, honestly.”
Fucking Dolores.
You groaned. “Dot? Fucking Dot knows about what happened?”
“She doesn’t know anything,” he interrupted before you had the chance to whine more.
You looked at him quizzically.
“It wasn’t my story to tell. She just said that your reaction made her realize there was some kind of history between you and Rumlow because no one leaves so suddenly in the middle of a conversation.”
You were gonna regret this but-
“Why was she in your room that day?”
He titled his head in confusion. “Which day?”
“Your birthday. I came to give you your present and she was wearing your shirt.”
It was like you couldn’t help yourself.
You cleared your throat after a beat, straightening your posture. “Actually, I’m sorry it’s none of my business. I didn’t-“
“Becca spilled her drink on her,” he explained coolly. Not defensive in the least. “I just gave her a shirt so that she didn’t have to stay in that for the rest of the night. Nothing happened between us.”
Oh. Becca had mentioned that she’d spilt her drink on fucking Dolores. Okay, maybe you didn’t connect the story. In anger. Maybe a little jealousy.
“I’m sorry, it wasn’t my place to ask.”
“It’s alright. I was going to clear it up that day but you left so suddenly.” You almost snorted as he continued, “She asked about you after the bar. She was a little worried.”
Slowly, the guilt of disliking her so badly was starting to creep into your mind. You’d always known there was no real reason to.
You owed her an apology basket.
Maybe two.
“What’s going on in your head? I can feel you thinking too much all the way here.”
“Who the hell writes people rejection letters, Bucky?” The thought was absurd enough to warrant a smile from you and a small laugh from him.
“Told you it was dorky.”
“Didn’t realize it was to this degree.”
“Yeah, well.” He shrugged, not saying anything to defend himself.
You glanced at the clock above the register. You had only ten minutes to go, and almost all the questions you had thought of had been answered.
Almost.
The one thing you wanted to know itched at you, aching to get out but you weren’t sure you had the confidence to just fucking ask-
“You good? Sure I can’t get you a-“
“Do you have feelings for me?” you asked directly. A straight shot.
His eyes widened slightly in surprise. To be honest, you were almost shocked yourself at how blunt you’d just been, but you were so tired. So tired. You wanted it done, out in the open. Clear air for once.
“Like, right now. This instant.”
“Y/N, I-” A sigh. A slow comb of his hands through his hair. A glance to the side.
“The letter, James.” You didn’t break your stare. Didn’t dare. Your heart felt two seconds from bursting through your chest. “You wrote it in the letter that you used to.”
No movement aside from a shift of his gaze downward, focusing on restless fingers. He pursed his lips, another sigh. But he said nothing.
Seconds of silence passed.
It almost felt suffocating.
Your eyebrows were knit together. “Bucky-”
“Yes.” You fell silent as his eyes met yours with little hesitation. “Yes. I do.”
You didn’t know what you were expecting him to say, but you froze. You opened your mouth but shut it again, unable to form any words. Well fuck.
His shrug was nonchalant, but the fall of his shoulders to a defeated slump was anything but. “Y/N, you have to know that our friendship means the world to me, and if this is going to change everything, then please, please stop me right now.” “I-”
“You’re my Mario,” his voice cracked but the corner of his lips tugged upwards. “I can’t afford to lose that.”
You didn’t know what to say. Of course everything it would change things between you. How could it not?
It’s not like you wanted to give up what you had with him. You didn’t know if you were being selfish, but the intensity of whatever it is that you were feeling was there and it hurt.
“Don’t-” he interrupted your train of thought with a restrained, almost forced smile. An attempt at confidence, perhaps. “Don’t overthink this. You really don’t have to say anything.”
“I just-” Bucky continued, another dramatic gesturing of his hands when words fell short. “Figured it was ‘bout time you knew. Properly.”
“Since when?” you sounded unsure.
“How long? Oh, man.” He laughed softly and shook his head. “Shits, I think it’s been a good couple of years now.”
Silently, you mulled it all over. Sat with it all for a minute.
He smiled, genuine now. No longer forced and tight, but relieved at the loss of the weight on his chest.
He set down the glass he was holding and swung the rag over his shoulder.
“I’m… fuckin’ shit at communication, Y/N,” he admitted as your lips pursed. “You know that. I couldn’t tell you, I couldn’t tell Dot. I couldn’t talk to Becca, forget anyone else. It’s so fucking hard for me to talk about-”
“Feelings?”
“Feelings,” he confirmed, nodding. “Emotions. It’s almost like I can’t. It’s easier just shut up and listen to others talk all the time.”
It made sense.
Even though he asked you not to overthink, everything he did was thought over, and then thought over again, and again and million more times just out of selfless concern.
“It feels selfish. And I hate feeling that way.”
You knew he wasn’t very open but this-
This was new to you. It didn’t shock you like you’d thought it would, but it was still… a little difficult to hear.
“What you feel is important too, you know. Not that you should feel that way, but it’s okay to be a little selfish,” you replied, voice soft.
“Yeah well-“ He paused before shaking his head. “Communicating is just something I have to work on, I guess.”
“Me too, apparently,” was your mumbled response.
All of this could have been avoided if you’d just had this conversation months ago. Like proper adults. Mature adults.
“We both have some serious issues,” he said lightly, cracking a smile at you.
You didn’t respond. You just played with the hem of your scarf, unraveling a piece of thread from the rest of it.
You could hear the sound of cars pulling up to the shop. A glance at the clock confirmed an incoming crowd.
But something felt incomplete.
You felt uneasy.
“Ah fuck, here they come,” he cursed, a quick smoothening his hair before pulling on his barista cap.
You took it as your sign to leave, gathering your few belongings that sat scattered before you.
“I’ll see you around Buck-”
“Y/N.”
You lifted your head to meet his stare.
“I know I shouldn’t really be asking this, but are we- We’re good, right?”
You stopped your own restless fidgeting.
You couldn’t tell him you weren’t sure, could you? Could you tell him that and that you were relieved?
Relieved that it hadn’t been in your head, that there were feelings on his end. Angry, though, that even if his intentions with the dates had been pure, what he did kinda sucked. That misunderstandings which could’ve been solved with a little maturity and a little communication lingered for so long, caused so many sleepless nights.
Could you tell him all of that and how it all hurt?
You knew he wasn’t looking for reciprocation. You knew he didn’t deem himself worthy of it. Even though he was good. Through it all, he was still good. Probably always would be. Too scared to hurt others, too scared to put the weight of his feelings on anyone else.
Maybe that’s why it was so confusing.
It was so fucking confusing.
His stare didn’t waver even as the bell above the door rang, signaling a new customer. Never a lapse in intensity.
Summary: If only the cute teacher would stop pestering you for a pen.(Library/Teacher AU! Reader/Bucky Barnes)
Prompt: you’re always asking me for a pencil because for some damn reason you don’t know that there is a whole store for stationary—happy birthday here’s a gift card to that store. wait, you work there? what the hell?
Masterlist
A/N: This is for @bithors writing challenge. the end.
Thank you for taking the time to read this and these two geeks in love!
Feedback is always appreciated.
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14
Several Months Later.
The new school year had passed you by and you found yourself getting pulled into various new activities, while trying to keep up with the Library Club and what you had already established. You were working more on how to improve the school with Mrs. Potts-Stark that you were basically her right-hand woman, but you were also thinking about going back to school for your Master’s degree, though you didn’t know in what yet, and while you loved the library, there were just so many options opened to you now. James had been in the same boat with working on papers and his increased amount of time with Dr. Banner and Mr. Stark. Together you had it hit close to year and half when Bucky had exclaimed he had a surprised for you over summer break.
To Florida – to visit his family. You remember how that went when you first found out.
“James, are you sure about this?” you pause looking at the little drawing in your hand declaring your trip’s destination, at least it wasn’t anything crazy, “Do we have time? And what about your parents?”
“I set time aside for both us, doll. The Starks know, even pushed me too it,” he laughs while grabbing your hand gently, as your eyes flicker up to see his smiling face, “And you know my parents are ecstatic, especially my mom.”
“But, are you okay with this?” you murmur softly, knowing by now the story of why he had run away and why he didn’t exactly like thinking about the Sunshine state. You frown in concern and he can’t help the lovestruck smile on his face over how much you care about him.
“I wouldn’t have suggested if I wasn’t,” James explains, as he leans in closer, pressing your forehead against his, “We deserve a break, starlight. Just think the nice weather, barbeques at night, sunny beaches—”
“Buck, are you just trying to get me in a bikini?” you question in laughter, as his face brightens up just a little at the thought.
“Maybe,” he explains shyly, as you put your hand on his stubble before dragging him into a quick peck on the lips. You shake your head.
“Haven’t been to the beach in a long while,” you say as blue eyes light up, “And you always do have the best ideas.”
“Is that yes?” he asks, looking like an excited puppy dog.
“Yes, Mr. Barnes.”
The both of you decide to take the week following July 4th as gateway time because it was relatively slow following such a big holiday, but you were still in New York to celebrate Steve’s birthday. It’s a little confusing to pack because you hadn’t done it since you had moved to the big city in the first place, but Pietro was there every step of the way – even when you picked out swimsuit, though it was all in gest, so he could send some hilarious texts to Bucky. You head out two days after Steve’s party, and you can’t help but still be a little nervous at the thought of being with the Barnes family for an extended amount of time.
“Sweetheart, it’ll be alright,” James tries to soothe you, as he holds your hands with his, as the two of you walk out of the Daytona Beach International Airport terminal and while he was right, it was still a feeling you couldn’t let go off. Yes, there had been a splattering of dates and boyfriends in your young adult years, but nothing as serious as spending time with his family -- this was a little nerve wracking, but also a little sad in a sense because you knew James would never meet your own mother, who you knew would have just loved him.
“I hope so,” you let out an unsteady laugh, hoping that he doesn’t notice the sudden sadness you might be feeling, as you notice two very familiar people standing on the side waving at you and Bucky.
“Ma! Dad! ” James picks up speed, but never lets go of your hand until you end up standing in front of a smiling Mrs. Barnes. You give her a smile, James catching up with his father, as the older woman returns it. Her eyes wrinkling in the corners, which make you think once again that James really does take his look after his mother.
“How was the school year?” she questions, as the four of you proceed to leave the airport. The two Barnes man watch you and Winifred still walking on eggshells around each other, though they both knew the truth.
“It went well!” you laugh and James watches in awe, all over again, from the back as you go into your area of explaining how you were doing in your classes and just life in general. A sweet smile sweeps over Winnie’s face and she instances on riding in back with you for the rest of the car ride back to their condo.
Your time in Florida is mainly spent around Daytona Beach, an area that the George and Winnie had fallen in love with when James still lived there. You didn’t ask much of the past, but you knew there were moments that is still bothered him, but you said nothing and spent your time going to the beach, checking the local popular spots with the Barnes woman, and the occasional barbeque-- though both of you were you wanted to go the most.
“James, where are we going?” you ask, wearing jeans that stopped at your knees, a good pair of running shoes with a light sweater -- just as he had asked of you earlier in the day. It was just the two of you this evening, and he wasn’t telling you anything as he drove the car a bit farther from the beach area you had hung out in most of the week.
“It’s a surprise, starlight,” he explains, using the words you use so often against him, while grabbing your hand and kissing it. He’s nervous, but he was trying his best to make it up to you.
James knew in his heart of hearts that he had wanted to take you to the Kennedy Space Center. He wanted to show you everything that he had loved so dearly once, however deep down he was still scared -- he didn’t want to look back at his failures, at what could have been -- at least not now. However, you never said anything, just smiled and planned your days at the beach with Rebecca and the rest of the Barnes family. He knew you were too good to him most of the time, and now it was his turn.
“Bucky, is that a lighthouse?” you look up at the tall red building in front of you, as James parks the car. The sunset is splattered in front of the ocean as you look at him with a glow that takes his breath for the moment.
“It’s the Ponce de Leon Lighthouse,” he explains after getting out of the car, while walking towards the lighthouse with his arm around your shoulders, “One of the best place to sees the skies in all of Florida, if you don’t mind the 2,000 step climb.”
You look at him with an excited glimmer in your eyes, in which he knows he made the right decision in the end, as you tighten your hold on your water bottle, “Then what are we waiting for, starboy!”
It takes you two a good long while to reach the top and while there are moments when you complain and murmur that you regret the decision in your fatigue -for Bucky to laugh- are thrown into the window when you see the view of the Atlantic Ocean from the lighthouse, as the sun finally gives out its last bits of light to the cloaking darkness that the two of you love so much.
“This is beautiful, Bucky,” you exhale, looking for all the constellations you are familiar with while leaning into his warmth, as it was significant colder than when you had started the your journey up the lighthouse.
“It sure is,” he breathes out before kissing your temple, though you never see that he is staring at your awestruck expression the whole time.
While, you had been spending your vacation days on the beach, you didn’t really wear a swimsuit or bikini for the occasion. It was usually shorts or a beach dress, even though you had spent an entire weekend searching for one with Pietro. However, it wasn't exactly you, which lead to you and Rebecca looking for a proper swimsuit towards the last two days of your trip. Thus, leading James to play with baby Nina (alongside her father) as he waited for all of you to show up since you had gone shopping earlier.
“They’re planning something,” William declares as he grabs his daughter and bounces her on his knee, “Rebecca had that smile on her face this morning.”
“I think it’s something she is still getting used to,” James laughs because since you had started dating and even more so after Nina’s birth the two of you had gotten closer, you even spoiled his niece with outfits and toys from time to time.
“Sorry to keep you waiting,” you state, as James looks up only to have his jaw drop. You’re standing there in a red, polka-dot pinup style swimsuit with a floppy white hat and matching sunglasses. There’s a timid smile on your face, as he knows deep down that he’ll have to thank either Rebecca or Pietro for this later, as much as it kills him.
“Is it okay?” you ask taking his brief silence the wrong way, though before you do anything else, Rebecca speaks up.
“You can’t blame him. He’s been waiting 3 years to see you like that,” Becca teases and while she expects Bucky to say something back, all she is welcomed with is two pairs of widening eyes, as you turn from looking at her to looking at your boyfriend, who seems to be glowing brighter by the minute though not because of the Florida sun.
All thoughts of your swimsuit are gone, as you declare loudly.
“You liked me for 3 years?” you look at James from where he is sitting, as he rubs the back of his neck and lets out a sigh, “I mean...how did you even know me?”
That’s the million dollar question, as Rebecca smiles behind her baby’s hat while William shakes his head. James gets up and slings his arm around your waist (as you give him a curious look), too embarrassed to tell you the story of how he fell in love with you indirectly, but maybe he would one day. For now, all he would say is:
Summary: Bucky forgets the constellations.
Warnings: fears of the future, tiny amount of angst, a surprising amount of fluff
WC: 2,256
A/N: This piece was written for @bithors 5K writing challenge! I had the prompt childhood friends to lovers and took it on a spin with a college au. Hope you enjoy!
masterlist || other bucky works
There’s a sting deep inside his chest as he looks up at the stars. There used to be a time in his life where he could look up and name every constellation with ease, never once second guessing himself. You’d lie next to him, arm hooked with his own, and encourage him to continue. Those were the summer nights of freedom, of carelessness thrown to the wind as he walked along the beaches and town squares with his laughing friends next to him. You’d curl into him as he made jokes, forcing your sandals into his hands before darting down the sandy pathways. Grinning, he’d take off after you in the dead heat of summer.
And now—now it’s cold winter nights spent alone with stars in the sky that he can’t remember the names of. They’ve moved on from their summers spent together, crammed in the back of Steve’s prized van with Sam in the shotgun and Natasha dangerously sitting on his lap. Those careless days of sunshine twisted away as autumn caught up to his happiness. He didn’t think it would end, but then college graduation came to a close and adult life took over. They all grew up. Now he’s left craving for the familiarity of before when all his friends crave the excitement of new.
He remembers, back when he was a child who thought he knew everything and you were a child who knew he didn’t, you made a pact. A pact that molded you two together, unbreakable against the wear of time, and stronger than you both had known. A pact that Bucky never will forget. A pact created in the mind of a child who wanted to live forever, run through the stars with you by his side and watch the sunrise from an unknown planet. A pact that ensured you’d always be there for each other.
“D’ya promise?” He whispered in the hot August heat of his tenth year alive, pinky jutting outward as his bruised knees touched yours.
“I promise, Buck,” you whispered back as the fireflies danced around you. Three words that seared two childhood friends together, three words that Bucky would never forget. He glares at the stars tonight as those words echo in his head and mock him with the knowledge of your impending absence. Bucky’s trying to shove those words down, farther than they ever had been, as he tries to be okay. He doesn’t want the change that’s about to happen. He doesn’t want his friends to leave—doesn’t want you to leave. Deep down he knows that you’ll always be here next to him, dancing amongst the stars as he stares up at the night, but there’s also that nagging feeling because he just doesn’t know.
He’s lost his sense of the world as his education comes to an end. There will no longer be early morning walks on the path nearby campus to make his way to your meeting place. There will no longer be Steve hosting parties after exams. There will no longer be Wanda’s laughter as Sam flings her into the pool. There will no longer be the wild college friends holding on together; there will be just him, adjusting to adulthood alone, wondering where you are in the world.
And that’s when it hits. He needs you. He needs to know that you’re still here, needs to feel your presence near him, needs you to teach him all the constellations again because the stars are fading away and he’s running out of time.
Running out of time to ensure that the promise isn’t suddenly going to waste. The thought of losing you to the great big world out there haunts him at night. You’re his best friend. He’s gone to you for every problem he’s ever had for the past twenty-two years, and you’ve done the same with him, and he’s not sure what he would possibly do if that suddenly changed.
It’s late into the night, and he doesn’t want to bother you, but he needs to hear your voice just to know that everything will be okay, so his thumb hovers over your contact before he sighs and presses it. The ringing causes him to pick at the rips in his jeans anxiously. But when you do pick up and tell him a groggy hello, he doesn’t waste the little time he has left with a greeting.
“Are you busy?” His voice is raw and broken as if the winter is haunting him with a sore throat. He hates it.
“Bucky, it’s two in the goddamn morning,” and that’s when he expects the rejection, the proof that he’s no longer an anchor, but instead you laugh. “Of course I’m not busy, dork.”
Your voice is soft when you finish the sentence. You’re always soft when it comes to Bucky, Steve and everyone else has noticed. You tell them it’s because Bucky is your longest friend. You don’t tell them it’s because Bucky causes the ground beneath you to shake anytime he’s around.
“Are you okay?” You question, and Bucky can almost see the way your head tilts to the side with raised eyebrows. He smiles.
“I’m fine—“
“Where are you?”
“I’m okay—“
“Are you at the place?”
“I’m alright—“
“Bucky,” you bite, and again Bucky can picture the way your eyebrows knit together and arms cross whenever you’re angry with him. He doesn’t smile this time.
“Yes,” he sighs. “I’m at the place. But really, I’m okay—“
You hang up on him. He sighs again, tucking his phone into his pocket before leaning his head against his knees. He wants you here, he needs you here, but there’s something inside him that doesn’t at the same time. Because if you’re here, if he sees you in the flesh with your glowing smile, he will fall apart. He’ll fade into dust, watching his world crumble with just one look at you. You have the power to end him with just a glance—it’s been this way for five fucking years. And Bucky is tired of his heart clenching when you’re around.
He’s tired of Steve chastising him for not making a move. He’s tired of Sam and Wanda snickering whenever Bucky trips over his feet for you. Bucky is tired of hiding his feelings, but he’s so scared of the outcome if he were to say something. He knows you like the back of his hand; as if you were a map and he was simply just the lonely cartographer who made you. His mind bursts with knowledge of the complex things like where you run off to when you hide, or the simplest things such as your order at the Thai place down the street from his apartment. He knows every inch of your mind and processes much like you know his.
But he’s fucking scared because—because this changes everything.
Bucky still has his head tucked on top of his knees when you arrive. When you take a seat next to him, your hands immediately wrap themselves around him. His heart skips a beat. “Tell me what’s wrong,” you murmur into his shoulder. His skin burns where your lips press against him. He takes a deep breath and squeezes his eyes shut, praying and hoping that he won’t become weak. But that’s impossible around you.
“I’m just scared—worried—that I, uh, that we—” Bucky coughs, looking up at the nameless stars. You shuffle beside him. “What’s gonna happen to us, huh?”
You cock your head, perplexed by his words. “What do you mean, love?”
He swallows down the anxiety, the want for you, the knot inside his chest that grows tighter as the days grow shorter. “When this is all over...when Steve and Nat and all of them go away and it’s just us. What’s going to happen? Are we…” his voice cracks despite his wishing and he knows you can see through him now. “Are we gonna stay—be okay? Or are we just gonna fade like the rest of them, into lives neither of us want but we’re too damn chicken shit to say anything about it to change.”
“Buck—”
“Because I don’t want that, Y/N,” he turns to face you, so close he can feel your breathing, and his lip trembles. You don’t dare look away. “We made a promise a long time ago that we would stay. Stay here—together—and I don’t want that to change. I can’t...can’t lose you.”
Taking his head into your hands, you smile gently. Your fingers sweep across the stardust speckled on his cheeks, wiping away the brimming of tears that threaten to spill over. Inside Bucky’s eyes, it was easy to his emotions. No matter how tough he carried himself, or no matter how many times he’d brush things off, his eyes always gave way to what he was feeling. Whether if they were sparkling, or faded, or firey with anger; you could always tell what Bucky was feeling. And tonight, underneath the starry sky that blanketed the both of you, his eyes are swirls of dark blues, nostalgia, and fear.
You knew that the ending of the year would be hard for Bucky to process. From Steve moving to California, to Wanda going home with her brother, to Sam and Nat finding a place together an hour away. Everything was changing faster than he had time to process, and he hated it. It scared him, but you knew that it also excited him to have his life coming together. It’s just overwhelming to have change after change with no break in between.
And you knew how much you meant to him.
The pact, though made from a child’s mind, has grown to withstand adulthood. So have you and Bucky. There’s always been an unspoken thing between the two of you that no one acknowledges. Touches that last seconds too long, smiles that light reaches the crinkles in your eyes, soft whispers in the back of the room as movies play on for your friends. No one says a word, not even you or Bucky, and life goes on. It happened slowly; a dandelion blowing gently in the hot summer heat as its seeds grow something more beautiful than it was before. Planting love inside your heart for years, one breeze of the hot air at a time, until one day you realized it was overgrown with the prettiest weed that the universe could create. You tried, one year, to pick and destroy them. To spray them with harsh chemicals so you could feel your heart once more, but it was no use. They stayed and you learned to love them and Bucky all together.
But you didn’t dare tell him.
He means too much to lose.
“Bucky,” you speak slowly and softly, choosing your words carefully before you say them. After everything, he deserves to know. “Me ‘n you, Buck, we’re like…we’re like stars, you know? We were born in an empty universe, born into darkness, but together we shine bright. Even after we burn out, we still shine for everyone to see. I don’t know if that makes sense, but—”
“No, no, yeah it makes sense, doll.”
His hands come up to cover yours and another soft smile overcomes your face. “You’re my everything Bucky. I thought you just always knew that. I’m gonna follow you until you tell me not to.”
Bucky swallows tightly. His breath falters at the realization of your words and the proximity of your lips. All this time he—he’s been an idiot. He shifts slightly so his whole body is facing towards you, fingers grasping your hands on his face and flickers his eyes down. His heart feels like it's going to burst—just this time, he’s okay with it. “Can I kiss you?”
“Yeah, Buck,” you smile. “Please.”
When he kisses you, sparks fly. When he kisses you, he feels his body tremble. When he kisses you, his bones crack and fill themselves with the burning stars above him. His lips move softly against yours somehow so gentle yet so passionate at the same time. His fingers move from your face to your waist as he grips tightly, afraid that you might evaporate into thin air if he lets go. Bucky kisses you and suddenly he remembers every constellation known to him before—Aquila, Scorpius, Cygnus; he mumbles each one against your lips as he pulls you closer to him. Smiling, you laugh. You pull away, despite his softly muttered “no” and kiss the top of his nose. It feels like peace. He sighs happily, letting you kiss all over his skin.
He wants to feel your lips everywhere, but he knows that will come in time. Right now he’s lost in the feeling of your hands roaming his back, your lips finding solace in each corner of his face, and your giggle bubbling into the silence around him. His eyes stay closed as this happens, still gripping your hips but lightly this time.
“We’re idiots,” he mumbles.
“Yeah,” you agree with another kiss on his forehead. “We are.”
Nuzzling your nose on his cheek, you smile against his skin. “I left my house at two in the morning for you, and you were scared it didn’t mean anything?”
“Can never know with you,” he teases. You roll your eyes. He grabs your jaw lightly so he can look into your eyes as he whispers, “I love you. You don’t have to say it back, but—”
Prompt: “This is the part where you hold my hand.”
Summary: You’ve spent the last three years of your life working on a revolutionary vaccine for the Roxxon Corporation, something that will shake the very foundations of the medical industry. Unbeknownst to you, there are those in this world who see a more military use for your miracle drug and would do anything to take it for themselves. When your lab is attacked and your whole world turned upside-down, your only hope rests on the shoulders of one very damaged super-soldier.
Warnings: Violence, angst and other stuff in later chapters...
A/n: I struggled so much with this and my concern is that it really shows. So, you know, be kind. I had three or four different ideas to go with this prompt and I’d started each of them before deciding on something different. I’m hoping I can turn this into a half-decent series despite my struggles. (Also, I swear I put a read more link in this thing but it's not showing up for me so if it's not here, I'm sorry.)
You jumped, clutching at a metal pipe for support as a loud bang rattled the heavy circular door to your lab. Men were shouting at each other in a language you didn’t speak. Heavy boots stomped back and forth out in the halls. People were screaming, crying, and all you could do was sit alone in the dark and wait for the inevitable.
You worked nights at an off-shore research and development site for the Roxxon Corporation in Lab number 394, a large rectangular room that housed more lab equipment than it had any right to. The bleached white walls were lined with bleached white counters, and the rows of florescent lights reflected off the bleached tile floors, casting everything in a sterile glow. Notoriously nicknamed The Vault, it was the most restricted of the onsite research facilities, requiring three separate types of verification in order to get in or out of the large, reinforced metal door, and only a handful of people possessed all three. In the centre of the lab, they had managed to cram three desks, two of which belonged to coworkers you’d never met, piled high with paperwork: official documents, notes, scribbles doodles, and perfectly balanced chemical equations. The third desk, however, had been your home away from home for nearly three years, a silent witness to your greatest breakthroughs and breakdowns. The Vault itself was equipped with a very advanced alarm system and quarantine protocol to prevent the spread of the viral cultures you needed for vaccine development.
You’d activated the quarantine protocol when the alarms sounded, sealing yourself within the vault, casting the lab into near blackness save for the amber alert light flashing steadily in the corner. You thought it had been a drill. It was always a drill. They ran them every couple of months to keep everyone on their toes. But then the screaming started. A concussive round of semi-automatic gunfire went off in the lab above your head, making your stomach turn and your ears ring. The silence that followed was worse. Somewhere in a distant part of your brain you were surprised the shots didn’t echo. You’d always thought they would echo. You tried to steady your breathing to the rhythm of the flashing amber light. One rotation. Two. Three. A strange sound like a pull and a pop startled you. Then the light went out, casting the room into total darkness. You clutched the pipe even tighter, desperate for support. They must have cut the auxiliary power. Now there was nothing to do but wait and wonder: who was alive, who was dead, and how long were you going to survive with the ventilation system offline?
The pipe in your hand twitched and shook itself free from your grasp and you hand to slap your hand over your mouth to stifle a scream. Squinting into the darkness you could barely make out the vague figure of what must have been a man -tall, broad shouldered, and scowling, the shadows twisting his features into something menacing. A monster in the night.
“Oh!” You exclaimed louder than you meant. In a heartbeat he closed the little space between you, towering over your frame, before backing off just as suddenly. A series of panicked questions fired through your brain as fast as the neurons carrying them. What was he doing here? How long had he been there? What did he want? Was he going to hurt you. The shadow where his eyes should be never left your face. He was watching you. Waiting. Maybe for you to work it out. He hadn’t killed you, or worse, yet so he couldn’t be one of them, but he certainly didn’t seem safe either. Did the monster speak? It was worth a shot. Mustering every ounce you had left of your courage, you asked the first question you could muster.
“How long have you been standing there?” You whispered, nearly smacking your hand to your forehead at your own stupidity. How was that the most pressing question?
A heartbeat. Two. You could count them by the thrumming in your ears before…
“A while.”
Success!
“And are you –”
“I’m not here to hurt you.”
Another bang against the door cut off your reply as the walls chipped and dust and less-than-savoury remains drifted down from the ceiling. Another wave of nausea rolled through you.
“Buck,” a voice crackled through his comms. “Buck, what’s your location.”
I’m in the vault,” the man, Buck apparently, sighed, pressing his finger to his earpiece. “Someone,” he cast a sidelong glance at you, “activated the quarantine. And you really don’t need to shout, Steve.”
The back of your neck grew hot under his penetrative gaze.
“Well, what would you have done?” You hissed, keeping your voice much lower than he was bothering to.
He cocked an eyebrow, but he didn’t reply, listening instead to the voice on the comms.
“Head for the rendezvous,” he said after a moment. “I’ll meet you there as soon as we’re out.”
You strained your ears to hear the reply but there was only silence on the other end. Suddenly, something rammed against the door, making the metal groan and quake in protest.
“I’m good, Steve. I won’t be long.”
“Fine,” Steve relented, clearly not thinking it was fine at all. “Just don’t get lost.”
“Try not to jump out of any more planes while I’m gone.”
“That was one time and –”
A female voice interrupted through the comms. “Hate to break up your little bromance guys but we’ve got incoming.”
“Get out while you can,” Buck warned as another bang dented the door. “I’ll get the formula and meet you there.”
“Formula,” you hissed indignantly. “Which formula?”
“Yours.” He cast a glance at the buckling door before turning his full attention to your desk. He threw open the drawers, grabbed loose-leaf pages, notebooks, file-folders, rifling through them only to cast them aside. Your stomach rolled uncomfortably. He was touching your stuff. You needed to sit down. Another bang. You could see the metal starting to give way. You gripped the edge of the lab counter to steady yourself. Suddenly the room was spinning, the initial adrenaline wearing off.
“Hang on. Hang on. Hang on!” The words burst from you as you ran forward to catch his hand before he touched something else.
He froze like a startled cat deciding whether to scratch. His back straight. His eyes dark and angry. You flinched back almost instantly.
“Don’t.” He rolled his shoulder, shaking his head as though he was trying to clear some intrusive idea.
“I –” You tried to think, praying he wasn’t in the midst of some violent mental break, “I thought you said you weren’t going to hurt me.”
“Look,” he leaned close, his face inches from yours, his blue eyes bright, intense, burning. “I get that you’re scared. I do. But right now, your choices are me or a team of Hydra operatives and I guarantee they won’t be gentle. Now, where’s your formula?”
“How do I know you’re not just going to kill me as soon as I give it to you?”
His face twitched into a grimace. “You don’t. But if I’d wanted to kill you, I would’ve done it already and taken it anyway.”
Another burst of insolence shot through your brain. “You wouldn’t be able to find it without my help.”
He snorted. He actually snorted. “Sure.” Another bang, the seal around the top of the door popped and thick tendrils of grey smoke slipped into the lab. “We’ve got about thirty seconds before the bust down that door. So what’s it gonna be?”
You stared at him for a moment, trying to clear your head. What choice did you have, really?
“Right,” you finally nodded, ducking under your desk. Fumbling with your keys, you unlocked a hidden compartment and pulled out a large green binder. “Formula. Check. Can you get us out of here?” You tried to make it sound like you didn’t secretly think he was going to grab the binder from your hands and leave you to fend for yourself against the oncoming hoard but the tremor in your words gave you away.
Buck nodded, “Get behind me and whatever you do, stay close.”
“Right.”
The men outside were shouting again.
“They’re setting up their explosives.” Buck explained. “When that door opens, hit the ground, and when I say run, you run. Understand?”
“I understand.”
The heavy footfalls behind the door faded away into silence. One second. Two seconds. A sound like thunder tore through your ears as the heavy door creaked and groaned and finally game way under pressure, falling inwards with a crash. All at once there was chaos. You threw yourself to the ground as a team of men in black tactical gear burst through the opening. Buck launched himself at them, striking out with just his fists against a hail of bullets. You slammed your hands over your ears. They were shouting. The room was filled with the scrape of metal against metal and the sickening squelch of metal against flesh. Then you heard it.
“Run!”
You jumped to your feet, your vision locked on the clearest path through the door. You took off, not bothering to check to see if he was behind you.
“This way,” you heard him shout. Casting a furtive glance over your shoulder, you saw him coming up on your left, passing you with a few easy strides to lead you to the stairwell.
“Why does it have to be stairs?” You puffed, not meaning for him to hear as he jumped them two at a time.
“Because you work in a basement!”
Damn.
You kept pace behind him, binder still clutched tight against your chest, until you reached the top, where he waited a moment to let you catch your breath.
“You good?”
“Most days,” you quipped, getting agitated.
“Let’s go.” He took off down one of the main corridors, leaving you to trot dutifully behind. You were dizzy with questions, every nerve in your body burned, overstimulated. You wanted to stop. You wanted to sleep. You needed something to focus your mind. A thought nibbled at your brain.
“Hey!” You called, louder than you meant, hoping to get his attention.
“Yeah?”
“How did you even get into my lab? It was under quarantine. Airtight. Nothing could get in or out. And if you were in there before I activated the protocol, I definitely would have seen you. You’re not exactly a ninja.”
Silence. Maybe you were pressing your luck? Just because he agreed to get you out doesn’t mean he couldn’t change his mind at any moment.
“I have a very particular set of skills.” He took a sharp turn down another hall lined with large windows set in wide panes. The moon outside glistened full and bright and menacing on the blood-spattered tile.
You couldn’t help the panicked laugh that bubbled up out of your chest. “Shut up. Everyone’s seen Taken.”
Great. Well done. Sass is a sure-fire way to get yourself killed. You waited for him to snap at you, or glare, or something.
“Not everyone,” he chuckled.
He rounded another corner. Suddenly, he turned to you, grabbing you by the arm and tucking you into a window alcove.
“Whatever you do, don’t look down that way.”
“What? Why?”
“You’re gonna have to trust me on this one.”
Raising his stolen gun, Bucky fired three shots into the glass. The sound burst through your eardrums like thunder, making you jump and grip the frame for support. Spiderweb cracks spread out across the glass but it didn’t shatter. You cast a furtive glance over his shoulder and were met with the sight of something dark and red pooling across the moonlit floor. Bile rose in your throat and you had to swallow hard, snapping your eyes closed in a futile attempt to stop yourself from collapsing in a fit of panic. You didn’t want to see. You didn’t want to know. And you certainly didn’t have time for this.
“Hey,” Buck coaxed, nudging your foot with his boot. You opened your eyes, startled to find him staring at you so intently. “You gonna make it?”
You shook your head, you could feel panicked tears welling up in your eyes. “Nope. Nope. My coworkers are dead. There are people trying to kill me. You might be trying to kill me. And now I’m crying so I don’t even get to die with dignity like they do in movies.”
He smiled a soft half-smile. There was something about it –sad and warm and comforting all at the same time. He didn’t look as evil when he smiled. Saying nothing, he pulled his left arm back, the moonlight glinting off the metal plating on his hand, and struck the glass, sending shards flying out over the cliff.
“You know we’re like a thousand feet up, right?”
“This is nowhere near a thousand feet.”
You stared out through the shattered glass and down to the rocks below, the inky sea roaring over them in a menacing spray of salt and foam. It wasn’t until Buck Blue-eyes snapped his fingers in front of your face that you realized he was staring back at you, expectant, with his arm outstretched.
“This is the part where you hold my hand,” he murmured, voice steady as he cast a furtive glance down the whitewashed halls, now spattered with blood. “I’ll keep you safe.”
“This is going to hurt,” you grimaced, gripping his hand tightly.
“You may want to shut your eyes.”
You did as you were told and with a sudden yank, the floor was pulled out from under you and you were plummeting fast through the air. A scream bubbled up through your throat and out your lips before you could stop it. You felt Buck’s hand slip through your fingers as you hit the surface like a bullet, swallowed up by the icy depths. You choked, a spastic breath that burned as the fluid filled your lungs, the muscles in your throat desperate for air. You kicked out, struggling for the surface but only succeeded in taking in more water. The world turned, fading to dusky shadows, then nothing.
Concept: “our first kiss would’ve been a lot more romantic if it wasn’t CPR.”
Warning/s: fluff, peter parker
Pairing: Fem!Reader x Peter Parker
A/N: hi bitches it’s ya boy tommy i wrote this to save myself from the pain that is infinity war :))))))) and also this is my submission for @sighodinson‘s 5k writing challenge!! congrats on the 5k cum ily and the title is totally not a vine reference i mean like who does that
You don’t know what Peter ate during the week. But whatever it was, it made him all soft on you and always wanted to find some time to hang out with you. Every day at school, he always wanted to be by your side, asking you if anyone was bothering you during classes or if you needed help with your studies. Then after school, he would always walk you to the bus station just to spend more time with you. Even if it meant he had to miss the train.
Then the weekends were beginning to peak through the horizon. During lunch, while you were seated in Ned and Peter’s usual table in the cafeteria, Peter suddenly asked Ned to leave. When Ned looked at him in confusion, all Peter did was wink at him twice, then he got the message and left the table.
You turned your whole body to him, narrowing your eyes at him. “Okay, what have you been eating this week, Peter?” you asked him, suspicious.
Peter grinned at you sheepishly, taking your hands in his and looking down at them. “I just like having you around.”
“Okay, but why did you make Ned leave?”
“Because I wanna ask you out on a date this weekend.”
You snorted. “You could’ve done that without making him leave.” Peter rolled his eyes. “He can’t stand us being together, so I always have to warn him before I do cute stuff with you.” he said and pouted. You resisted pinching his cheek. He was too damn adorable. You’re lucky to have him as your boyfriend.
“So do you want to go on a date with me this weekend?” he asked, like he always did, even though you were already dating. You didn’t mind that he kept asking you, though. It was sweet of him to check if you wanted to go. “Of course! Where are we going?”
Peter puffed his chest out and tried to put on a serious face, making you giggle. “To the beach!” he declared.
“Why the beach?” you asked, giving him a puzzled look. Peter shrugged and said with a straight face, “Buzzfeed said it costs like, $12.” You laughed at that, but agreed to go. It’s always fun at the beach, even if you can’t swim.
“This is such a nice place.” you said, looking around the beach and relishing in how the sun hits your skin. There weren’t a lot of people at the beach, and it was perfect because you weren’t looking forward to seeing your classmates from school. Today is supposed to be just you and Peter alone.
“Let’s set up our picnic over there.” Peter said and pointed at a spot near the lifeguard tower, looking at you through his sunglasses. He looked so attractive just holding the beach umbrella across his shoulder and the picnic basket in his other hand.
You subtly bit the inside of your bottom lip before you could get carried away with staring. “Okay, you set up the umbrella while I set up the picnic.”
Peter nodded and you both walked towards the spot. You both worked to make your little place look decent. After that, you both settled next to each other on the blanket and rested. Peter sighed and draped his arm around your shoulder, and you immediately snuggled to his chest. You hummed in satisfaction when he pulled you closer.
“I wish I could nap here without having to worry about getting my phone stolen or getting kidnapped.” you blurted out of nowhere. Peter’s chest rumbled in soft laughter, and you lifted your head up to see him smirking.
“What? I’m just saying.” you defended.
“I mean, I am Spider-man, so I don’t think you’ll have to worry about getting your phone stolen or getting kidnapped.” he said, smirking. Before you could comment on how cocky he was being, Peter turned his whole body to you and cradled you into his chest, making you giggle when his breath tickled your neck.
“I’ll have you informed though; I don’t know how to swim. So you’ll have to hold my hand the whole time.” you told him. Peter nodded, grinning. “I’ll even piggy back ride you the whole time if you want me to.” he mumbled against your hair.
You rolled your eyes at him, and Peter snickered, kissing your hair.
You laid there with Peter for what seemed like hours, talking about anything that would come to mind. About his life as Spider-Man, what TV show you were currently binge-watching, all that kind of stuff.
“Does Tony tutor you about science?” you asked randomly. Peter didn’t respond for a moment, thinking about it. He looked like he wanted to say yes, but Tony is too busy being Iron Man to give him tutors about quantum physics.
“No.” he said instead.
That went on while you both ate your sandwiches. You both shared a few laughs about the funny times Peter had encountered any of the Avengers. There was one time where he was tasked to get some files in Tony’s office when Hawkeye suddenly fell out of the vents and landed on top of him.
“It was one of the greatest moments of my life.” Peter marveled. He looked too happy about it. “I mean, my head hurt because Mr. Stark’s floors are tiled but man, I got landed on by Hawkeye! Totally worth the head pain.” You laughed at his adorable, happy face.
After you’ve both finished eating your sandwiches, you dusted the bread crumbs off your lap and stood up on the picnic blanket. Peter looked up at you with a curious and confused expression on his face.
His eyes widened when you suddenly began taking off your shirt and shorts, showing off your swimsuit that you were hiding underneath. You turned to him, your smile growing wider when you saw Peter’s expression.
“What do you think, Peter?” you asked him cheekily. Peter looked like a fish as he stared at you opening and closing his mouth multiple times.
“Wow,” was all he could say after a moment of silence. You giggled and turned to the beach, stretching. “I didn’t think you’d want to swim.” Peter said. You turned back to him and saw him standing while dusting his shorts off from the bread crumbs.
“It’s a fun day at the beach! Who doesn’t wanna have fun?” you told him. Peter looked at you the way a worried mother would. “You can’t swim, Y/N. You have to be - hey, HEY! Y/N! Y/N!”
He was cut off when you suddenly bolted away from him and towards the shore. The beach had big waves today, which made you terrified. But it was now or never, because you figured you’re gonna look stupid running towards the water and then running back to Peter.
“WOO!” you shouted with your arms raised, like a lunatic.
Peter’s spider sense was tingling to its maximum level. The moment your foot made contact with the sea, his first move was to start running towards you.
“Y/N, I swear to god.” he mumbled through gritted teeth, speed-walking towards you. His heart stopped beating for a second when he suddenly noticed you were gone. His spider sense was practically beeping so loud inside his head it slightly gave him a headache.
“Oh god, Y/N.” He frantically took off his shirt and ran to the shore, looking for you all around the waters. His heightened sense of hearing managed to pick up someone choking on something. He turned to his right and saw an arm waving furiously through the big waves. He instantly recognized it as your arm.
“Y/N! OH, GOD -” he screamed.
Peter had never ran so fast before. He jumped into the water and swam through the strong waves that was trying to wash him up to the shore. He saw your now limping and sinking body and instantly wrapped one arm around your waist tightly, swimming back to the shore as fast as possible.
Once his feet touched the sand, he immediately dragged your unconscious body underneath him, panicking so much. “Oh god, oh god. Peter, breathe. Do CPR. Do CPR! SAVE YOUR GIRLFRIEND!” he yelled at himself before he pressed the heels of his hand to the center of your chest, compressing steadily like how he remembered it.
He braced himself and latched his lips onto yours, heavily struggling to not get distracted by how soft your lips feel as he gave rescue breaths. He focused on saving your life. He repeated it when he saw your chest wasn’t rising and falling like it was supposed to.
He quickly pulled away when you suddenly jerked up and coughed water out of your mouth. Peter found himself crying in joy and in relief and all kinds of emotions washing over him all at once. He wrapped his arms around your neck, embracing you in a severely tight hug.
“Oh, I thought I lost you. I thought I lost you.” he whispered against your wet hair, his eyes brimming with tears as salty as the ocean that nearly drowned you. You hugged Peter after a second of reluctance. You felt extremely guilty for making him worry about you and nearly dying.
“I’m sorry, Peter.” you mumbled against his shoulder. You traced the broadness of his left shoulder, brushing away the sand that got stuck on it. Peter pulled away from the hug, but he made you sit up from the sand, staring at you deeply. Your heart wrenched when you saw his teary eyes.
“Don’t -” Peter’s voice sounded teary, worried, but it was also evident that he was really mad. “Don’t do stupid stuff like that! You’re gonna give me a heart attack if you pull that kind of crap again!” he shouted. You don’t even flinch when he raised his voice at you. You felt like you deserved that for pulling that stunt.
Peter wiped the tears in his eyes and held your face in his hand, tilting your head down so he could kiss your forehead. The kiss lingered.
“I’m really sorry, Peter. I - I didn’t know what I was doing. Sorry for acting stupid.” you dipped your head down in shame. Peter pulled you into another hug, leaning his head against your hair and you leaning against his chest. You could hear how fast and hard his heart was beating.
“I forgive you,” Peter sniffled, pulling away from the hug to look at you, “but you gotta promise you won’t do stuff that stupid again!” he scolded, sounding like a mother. You fought back a remark about how he sounded like his Aunt May.
“I promise, Peter. I promise.” you said, and it was so sincere. Peter appreciated how genuine it sounded coming out of your mouth. It showed through the smile he sported. “Thank you for saving me.” you said, and his smile widened further.
It went quiet for a second. The wind wasn’t strong in the beach, but you felt it against your skin, soothing your heated skin.
“Our first kiss,” Peter mumbled with an unreadable expression on his face. Your face immediately heated up, realizing that he did CPR on you. You daydreamed countless times during classes about how your first kiss with Peter would go. CPR wasn’t one of them, unfortunately.
“It would’ve been so much better if it wasn’t CPR.” you said meekly, ashamed. Peter smiled wide at your blushing face and held your face close to his, forcing you to look at him. His lips was just a centimeter away from yours. Your face was probably on fire from how warm it felt.
“Tell me to stop,” he warned you, his voice dropping a few octaves. When you didn’t say anything, he took that as permission to kiss you. You nearly mewled at how soft his lips felt against yours. Your hand grasped at the back of his neck, deepening the kiss and making Peter gasp against your mouth.
You both pulled away, gasping for air. Peter had something gleaming in his eyes, something that you couldn’t decipher.
Let me start off by saying that I still have not seen Infinity War and will not for another week so please don’t comment anything spoiler related! Thor has very recently become one of my faves so please enjoy and let me know what you think!
This work was created for @sighodinson’s 5k writing challenge!
As consciousness slowly seeps back in the first thing you notice is the large, well-muscled back that your face is pressed against. Thor is still sleeping soundly, his chest rising and falling minutely with every measured breath. It’s rare that you are awake before him.
Thor is usually up and in the training arena before the sun rises. His early bird tendencies nature is something you could never really understand, but it does not escape you that this moment is something special. Something to be savoured.
You trail your fingers lightly down Thor’s spine. The golden skin is warm under your hand and remarkably soft. You both sleep naked and it takes hardly any effort to slide forward and wrap your arms around Thor’s torso. Well, as much as you can considering his bulk. You press your body close to his and soak in the warmth. A sigh escapes you unwittingly.
That strong body is suddenly shifting before you, muscles stretching, and one of Thor’s legs slides back to rest on yours. The limb is heavy and the fine hair covering his skin scratches gently at your own. You bring your hand to rest on his exposed hip, rubbing at the taut skin with your thumb. Thor hums softly and snuggles back into your embrace.
“Good morning, love.” Thor’s voice is still scratchy with sleep. It’s rough and sensual and it momentarily takes your breath away. He rolls over to face you, blankets shifting and tangling.
You hastily close your eyes knowing full well that Thor knows you are awake. You struggle to keep your composure under his stare, trying desperately to keep your lips from stretching into a smile. A laugh rumbles in Thor’s chest and he pulls you close, trailing kisses along the side of your face.
“Still asleep then?”
You nod your head slightly and crack one eye open. You then promptly fall into a fit of giggles because honestly, Thor is really fucking adorable. How can anyone wish to fight this beautiful man? He’s so cute! His hair has escaped its’ braid throughout the night and pieces of it hang down and frame his face. Said face is slightly flushed from the warmth of the room. Stubble has begun to sprout on his chin and cheeks and you know for a fact that it will feel divine on your skin. The skin of Thor’s cheeks bears the marks of his pillow from the night before. His blue eyes stare back at you, luminous in the morning light.
“What is so funny?” Thor is pouting now, his brow furrowed and you sneak a kiss to the tip of his nose.
“Oh, nothing, sweetheart. I just cannot fathom how anyone would wish to harm you. It should be a crime for you are stunningly beautiful.” Thor blushes at the sentiment and opens his mouth in what is most likely an attempt to argue with you but you place a hand over his lips before he can speak. You run your fingers through his hair and brush your thumbs along the soft planes of his face. “Oh, hush. Do not try to argue with me, I will only prove you wrong. Let’s just lie here for a while, hmm? Will you hold me?”
Thor’s shoulders relax from their previously defensive position and he wraps his arms around you once more.
Summary: In which your best friend’s brother begins to set you up on dates when you mention that you haven’t been in a relationship in years, but things don’t go as expected.
Warning: mentions of past cheating, angst, anger, family problems, homophobia, sadness,
Word count: 4.8k
A/N: im returning after 2 months again oops im sorry does anyone still read this anymore, also this is the longest chapter of espresso so far go us!!
this is my entry for @viktordrago‘s writing challenge.
listen this chapter seems to be @samingtonwilson approved so i think y’all will like it too. also give her some love, she deserves it
here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333
Previous part- Part 10 || Espresso Masterlist
“Y/N, I’m glad you could make it!”
Stepping into Becca's house cautiously, you sent an awkward wave to Bucky’s mother who beamed at you in disproportionate reciprocation, rushing to help you with your coat and giving you a quick hug in the process.
“Hey Mrs. B." You tried your best to speak through the thickness of your throat, forcing yourself not to stiffen in her embrace. “How ya been?”
“Exhausted,” she laughed, shaking her head gently. “Ain’t easy getting all of them to get along for three days.”
You felt that. You were tired too.
You offered her a sympathetic smile and followed her lead to the dining room, scanning your surroundings for any sign of her son and not engaging in her spirited chatter.
The house smelled like pine scented candles and vanilla essence, the same as it did every year without fail. Since you were last there two days ago, a large tree now sat in the living room, too tall to stand upright with the top pushing against the low ceiling at an odd angle. It wasn't a real tree but, in your experience, was considered a part of the Barnes family and decorated to the nines.
You quietly slid into the seat next to Rebecca who only then seemed to pick up on your arrival, looking away from her phone. A quick glimpse of surprise flashed over her face, and understandably so.
“I remembered all your favorites,” Becca’s mom proudly gestured around the countertop where dishes were stacked, covered with lids or sheets of foil.
“It smells great.” It wasn’t a lie; it really did smell like a feast, but your wide range of junk food and Netflix at home was just as appealing, if not more.
Still, you forced a tight-lipped smile at her, thanking the heavens that she bought it a second later without so much as a question.
Eyebrows drawn together, you took a closer look at Becca’s mom. The bags under her eyes were more pronounced and her steps were heavier as if carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders was finally getting to her.
She seemed distracted, distant almost. You knew she had learned to detach herself from a lot of the negativity around her over the years but it was beginning to feel like she was tuning out altogether.
You felt Becca lean in to whisper to you, asking for your attention but never once taking her eyes off her mom who had turned to double checking everything she made while giving a brief rundown on each dish. “Hey.”
“Hey.”
“How you holdin’ up?”
“Fine,” you answered shortly.
She spared you a brief glance to raise her eyebrow. “Really?”
“Always.” Becca didn't say anything but you didn't miss the slight twitching of her jaw as she looked ahead.
You know she hadn’t expected you to show up after the call you’d shared the night before. It lasted well into the late hours, and you weren’t sure when it had ended since you’d fallen asleep from the emotional toll the evening had taken on you. Obviously, you had left out the parts about Bucky, figuring that it was something you both had to talk about yourselves, whenever time demanded it.
Speaking of whom, he was nowhere to be seen. It was a good thing. Longer the delay, the better.
“How’s your vacation going so far, Y/N?”
You hesitated but quickly recovered. “Good as it can get, Mrs. B.”
She smiled at you before she looking to the clock, “George and Bucky are at the store, they’ll be home any minute.”
“Tell them to take their time, we’re in no hurry,” Rebecca drawled in a dry deadpan, eyes narrowed at her nails to avoid her mother’s glower.
“Please try to be civil tonight.” She sighed, rubbing at her temples. You couldn’t imagine how the last few days must have been for her, stuck in the middle of the endless anger and pettiness from Becca and her dad’s feud.
“Me? Be an intentional pain in the ass? I would never.”
Her mom didn’t bother refuting the statement. She just absentmindedly untied the well-worn apron from her waist and, for a second, you thought she might strangle your best friend with it.
Instead, she hung it on the handle of the oven and exited the room to change into something that wasn’t covered in flour, leaving you both alone.
Becca waited until she was out of sight to spin around in her seat and face you. “Listen, you don’t have to stay here if you don't want to be around people right now. They'd understand.”
“I’ll get through,” you mumbled, shutting your eyes and leaning back in your chair.
“You don’t have to. Don’t do anything you’re not comfortable with just because of some dumb tradition.”
“It’s just one evening, Becks,” you muttered as you wrapped your arms around yourself. “Besides, I promised.”
She mulled over your words. Her teeth gently nipped at her bottom lip. “You wanna talk about it?”
“Not really, no.”
“Now or ever?”
“Right now it feels like ever, but we’ll see.”
“I knew I was right to spill my drink on Ronald McDonald.”
“That’s a new one,” you said, cracking one eye open to peek at her.
“It’s the hair,” she huffed as she gestured to the top of her head with a roll of her eyes. “I’m running out of characters, we need to eliminate her soon.”
“If it helps, I don’t think she-“
The reverberation from the loud slamming of the front door interrupted you mid-sentence. Becca stiffened at the boisterous laughter of her dad, and you were about to reach out a hand to comfort her but stopped when you realized it was accompanied by the more subdued chuckles of Bucky.
Fuck.
“Y/N!” Her dad’s voice made you jump from your chair instantly, knowing from years’ of experience that he was an old fashioned man, and sometimes not for the better. “It’s good to see you! How are you?”
“Hey, Mr. Barnes.” He had his hand out for a handshake and you remembered to comply firmly, a satisfied grin growing on his face at your actions. “I’m okay. How are you doing?”
“Clinging to life by a thread at this point, I’m afraid.” He shrugged off his coat and slightly ruffled his neatly combed back hair to get rid of the water droplets that had accumulated there.
You could hear the rustling of a paper bag as Bucky handed something over to his mom but you didn’t spare him a look, instead choosing to keep your eyes trained on his father.
“George!” Bucky’s mom scolded, joining in on the conversation as she placed the bag Bucky handed her on the counter.
“What?” Bucky’s dad laughed. He removed the scarf from his neck and took the place opposite to you at the small rectangular dining table.
You took a second to quickly assess Becca, only to find her mostly unfazed except for the slight edge in the way she was looking at her father and the way her leg was bouncing under the table, a habit she had been asked to get rid of multiple times but never really paid consideration to.
You could see from the corner of your eye Bucky standing awkwardly to the side, trying to find a place to sit down. His issue must have been that the only place left was next to you.
You focused ahead and prayed he would just sit down instead of drawing attention to himself and the glaringly obvious tension between you both.
He appeared to have the same thought, taking the seat but not offering a word of greeting or acknowledgement to you.
_________
You quickly found that your attention wasn’t very missed during the evening as long as you supplied occasional laughs or nods, whichever seemed appropriate given everyone else’s response. Most of your time was spent watching Becca bounce her leg under the table.
“That’s basically how I started a Steve Buscemi fan club in my first year and didn’t realize I was president until like, six months in.”
“It’s not a club if you were the only member.”
“False, Y/N joined.” You perked up when you heard your name, taking a moment to register what had just been said. Up until then, you’d been playing around with the food on your plate, pushing around any vegetables in your path.
“I did?” you asked when it finally clicked in your brain what had just been said. It was safe to say you had no idea how the conversation ended up there, but you didn’t bother figuring it out.
“Yeah, I gave you a badge and everything.”
“Does Y/N even know she was a part of the club, or…” her mother asked, a good-natured smile on her face as she took a sip from her glass.
“I very much did not.”
“Excuse me, what?” Becca dropped her cutlery incredulously. “I just- okay. Fine. I see how it is.”
Another pretend laugh and you were out of the conversation again, for which you were thankful because it was taking all your energy to talk and your social battery was practically drained to begin with.
You’d forgotten Bucky was next to you until he reached over to fill your glass again, startling you. You had seen his hunched shoulders and a thousand-yard stare on his face make an appearance quite a while ago and it hadn’t changed since then. He looked like he would rather be anywhere than here.
You subtly nodded in thanks, to which he just went back to looking down at the plate. Guess he didn’t see it.
“College was different back in my day,” Bucky’s dad smiled reflectively, placing his fork and knife down to talk, his eye catching yours.
“Is it very different from what it is now?” you asked in response to his nonverbal cue to. You hoped he would launch into one more of his long tirades to pass the time.
“It was a smaller community back then. Most kids you went to school with ended up at the same college as you so y’didn’t make a lot of friends but you sure kept the ones you did.” He sounded wistful, nostalgic. “It’s one of the reasons I tried to get these two to stay here.”
“Oh?” Becca swallowed what she was chewing, her tone challenging. Her eyes were narrowed. Uh-oh. “I thought it was so that you could have complete control over me and my love life.”
A silence that could only be described as awkward ensued. The only sounds were of Becca’s fork and knife scraping against her plate as she ignored the surprise she elicited from her words.
“I wouldn’t have to if you didn’t get yourself mixed with the wrong crowd, Becca.” Her dad laughed but you could tell that it was dry and forced as he picked up his silverware, pretending like nothing out of the ordinary had been said.
“The wrong crowd- alright.“ she scoffed, single eyebrow skeptically cocked.
“Y/N-” he turned his attention to you, expression unaffected. “How did your semester go?”
“It certainly… went,” you tried at a poor attempt to diffuse the tension in the room, which was surprisingly well-received by him. Though at this point anything would be a saving grace for him.
“Ain’t that the same for all of us. Don’t think I ever learned what I paid for.” He shrugged. “What about you, James?”
“Huh?” Bucky only just seemed to snap out of whatever trance he was stuck in, looking around wildly for a second. “Oh, yeah, semester went okay.”
“And Becca?”
“It was okay,” she replied curtly.
“Only okay?” He raised his eyebrow at her. “Is there a specific reason for that?”
“Nope.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive.” She flashed him a big smile and you could see the look of utter distress begin to set in on her mother’s face.
“Fine.” He cleared his throat. “Because I hope you don’t forget why we’re sending you to college.”
“To fuck girls and make bank,” she muttered under her breath.
You had to suppress a snort and disguise it weakly as a cough. Real smooth.
“What did you say?” Oh shit.
“Hm?” she asked, feigning surprise.
“I want to know what it is you said to yourself.” His eyebrows were knit together in brewing anger, jaw clenched and eyes cold.
“Alright,” she said easily, fearlessly. Putting her fork and knife down, she leaned forward, her chin on the palm of her hand. Her stare was bold. “I asked why you weren’t asking Bucky all of this.”
“Becca, don’t-“ her mother started, only to be interrupted by Becca’s dad’s response to her question.
“Oh please,” he scoffed as he looked away in annoyance.
“No, seriously. Why aren’t you telling Bucky these things? He didn’t say his semester went all that great either.”
Bucky coughed and sunk back into his chair as if to move away from the conversation. You looked at him, tilting your head in a silent bid for him to intervene and put a stop to it before it got out of control.
He bit his lip and remained silent. He didn’t seem to notice your action.
Their dad’s response was defensive. “I’d tell him the same things if I was concerned about him.”
“No, you wouldn’t. We know that.” She shook her head and you could see her leg stop bouncing under the table. “What’s the real reason, huh? You worried I’m gonna go get hitched to the first person I see?”
“Absolutely not.”
“I’m sorry, I should have specified.” She cleared her throat. “To the first girl I see?”
You could see his posture straighten further, something you didn’t even think was possible. His Adam’s apple shifted as he swallowed thickly, remaining speechless.
Becca hadn’t moved an inch.
“Did you tell him about Natasha?” She looked at her mother, who was as still as she could be other than a slight shake of her head.
“Who’s Natasha?” Mr. Barnes’ voice cut through before their exchange continued, alternating glances between his wife and her.
Becca leaned back in her seat with a subtly smug expression, arms crossed over her chest. “My girlfriend.”
You inhaled sharply, dreading what was to come.
There was complete silence for a moment before her dad laughed nervously. “I can’t be expected to know every new friend-“
“Not friend. Girlfriend.” She clarified. “Two very different things.”
“Maybe we should discuss this after dinner, hm?” Her mother looked around the table, giving everyone a shaky smile. “Does anyone want anymore-“
“Why? Isn’t this normal dinner talk?” She tightened her arms over her chest further, defiantly. “I tell you about what’s going on in my life, give you a little background on who I’ve been seeing-“
“Not now, Becca.” Her dad’s voice was lower than usual and he was avoiding her stare.
“She’s Russian, by the way. Met her at a party-“
“Rebecca.”
You looked back at Bucky, unsure of what to do.
For the first time that night you met his eyes, only to find him as uncomfortable as you. You could tell he’s biting the inside of his cheek, but he hadn’t said anything yet.
“Been together a couple of months, she’s got a big family-“
“Enough!” Her dad brought his hand down harshly on the table, making you jump and gasp. His fists were clenched to the point of whitening his knuckles, a vein was prominent against the skin of his neck.
Rebecca didn’t bat an eye. “No.”
“Becks-“ Bucky finally tried, snapping you from your daze to reach for her hand. She gripped onto you tightly.
“Stop,” she said to him making him shut his mouth as quickly as he opened it. You could see red rimming her eyes. “Just stop. He needs to hear this.”
She looked back at her dad, a slight quiver almost unnoticeable in her otherwise strong voice. “My girlfriend’s name is Natasha, and I love her. I won't let you erase her existence like how you did with all my ex-girlfriends.”
“You didn’t have ex-girlfriends, this is just one of your-“
“What? Phases?” She paused, waiting for him to agree with her. “It’s not. And even if it was, so fucking what?”
You could see her mother flinch at the curse word but maintained her silence. She looked like she was dissociating from the situation again.
“I’m a lesbian, dad. My girlfriend is bisexual. We’re together,” she emphasized the last part. “It’s about time you accept it or learn to live with it.”
Her chair scraped behind her loudly as she stood up, her hand letting go of yours.
“Dinner was delicious, Ma. Thank you.” She flashed her a shaky smile before spinning on her heel and leaving the room.
Bucky and you shared a nervous glance before you broke it to look at his mother.
With a subtle tilt of her head in the direction Rebecca had gone in, you knew you had her permission to leave so you just quickly stacked your plate on top of Becca’s before taking off behind her.
“Becca!” you called after her, taking two steps at a time to catch up with her.
“M’fine,” she grunted, shoulders stiff as she walked into her room, slamming the door behind her.
“Let me in, Rebecca.” You hastily knocked on the wood.
You could hear loud arguing in the dining room, but you chose not to discern its content. You figured it wasn’t your place to listen in.
“Everything’s fine, Y/N, don’t bother.” Her voice was muffled. You couldn’t tell if she was crying, which only stressed you out more.
You leaned your forehead against the door, hoping your words would be clearer. “You know it isn’t. Just open the door and we can talk about it.”
The door swung open and you staggered back in an effort to not fall face first to the ground. Becca had pulled on a hoodie and had changed into sweatpants, hair in a loose ponytail.
“Y/N,” she began, “I’m fine. Seriously.”
“Becca, you don’t have to-“
“I just need to clear my head.” The redness around her eyes had reduced significantly, but was still present. It gave you all the more reason to believe she wasn’t being completely truthful. “Really. I said what I had to say, I just got overwhelmed while doing it.”
You remained silent, lips pressed together in a tight line, waiting for her to go on.
“I just need to be alone for some time, to think some things through. I’m-“ Becca lingered, letting her shoulders relax. “I’m okay. I got this, I promise; just… trust me.”
You stared at her, trying to formulate your next move. Would you be a shitty person if you left her alone like this?
“Tell me if you need anything, and I mean anything. I’ll be right here.”
She nodded, slipping you a small smile before closing the door softly. You heard the click of her lock, indicating that you made the right choice.
You sighed, sinking to the floor adjacent to her door. You could stay there for some more time, just in case.
You were probably just being too paranoid, but just in case.
You weren’t sure how long you sat there to see if she’d rush back out, but you stopped keeping track after a while.
Someone’s heavy footsteps alerted you of their presence as they paced down the hallway where you were perched. You didn’t have to look up to know who it was. You didn’t spare him a glance even as he paused for a second next to you before joining you on the floor, crossing his legs in front of him.
“She doin’ okay?” Bucky sounded out of breath and you wondered if he ran up the stairs like you had.
“She said she was,” you mumbled, picking at your cuticles. “She isn’t leaving her room though.”
He exhaled, followed by the dull thump of his head falling against the wall behind him. “Beck’s strong. She’ll pull through. Just gotta… just gotta give her some time.”
You closed your eyes. You just wanted to sleep. It was just so tiring; everything was so tiring.
“’m sorry you got caught up in this.” He pulled his knees up so they were tucked against him. “It shouldn’t-“
“Why didn’t you stand up for her down there?” you cut him off and opened your eyes to look at him. “You’re her brother. She needed support and you-“
“Think of what just happened. Would that have helped?” he asked coolly.
“It sure would have helped her-“
“This isn’t the first time it’s happened, you know that.” He turned his head towards you. “We’ve been through this before, I’ve been through this before. I’ve tried to help, so many times. It ends up with either Becca or my dad despising me. It’s just… it’s exhausting.”
You bit your tongue and forced yourself to calm down before your anger got the best of you. You knew about this, Bucky himself telling you about his involvement. How you let yourself forget it so carelessly was beyond you.
“You’re right, though.” He shrugged, surprising you. “I told my dad this time that if he cuts her off, he can- he can do the same for me. ‘M sticking by her side.”
He let out a shaky breath.
“I’m sorry,” you said softly.
He shrugged again, looking straight ahead at the wall. He was chewing on his lip, eyebrows pulled together as he toyed with what you just noticed were bandages on his left knuckles. You wondered how the hell he managed to get those within two days.
It was close to nine thirty. You were beginning to question if you should pack up and go since there was no sound coming from Becca’s end. She had probably gone to sleep.
“I’m gonna-“ you began to tell Bucky that you were leaving, only to be interrupted.
“I didn’t do it, y’know,” he said quietly.
You stop for a moment before you finally look at him. “Do what?”
It was a dumb question. You knew exactly what he was talking about. You just weren’t sure if this was the time or place to talk about it.
“Set you up like that. I had no idea he was going to be there.”
“I know, I shouldn’t have said that.” You didn’t bother hiding that you knew it was plain overreaction on your end. It would be completely out of his nature. “But it doesn’t mean you didn’t know about him and Dot, or that you didn’t pair me up with people you knew I wouldn’t like.”
“You really believe that I wouldn’t tell you about Dot and Rumlow if I knew?” He twisted his body to face you. “That I’d spend even a second with her if I knew she was the girl he cheated with?”
“Rumlow and you spent too long together for me to not believe you had not even the slightest clue, Bucky-“
“But I didn’t. Rumlow and I- we never got along. Never spent any time that I wasn’t forced to with him. Couldn’t stand the guy, especially since-“ Bucky hesitated, before clearing his throat. “Doesn’t matter. The point is I wasn’t aware at all.”
“Especially since what?”
“What?”
“You said you didn’t like him especially since what?” you pressed on it, your curiosity too eager to ignore even though it was probably insignificant anyway.
“It’s nothing, doesn’t even matter now.” He scanned you for a second. “He just had a chance at something I never did.”
“At what?”
“Nothing, Y/N, just drop it.”
“Fine.” It didn’t make sense to dwell on it further if it just meant you getting riled up on something small that didn’t even matter. “What about the others?”
“Who?” He squinted, trying to find a connection to what you were talking about.
“Vision. Tony. I don’t even remember the others.”
He sighed and rubbed his temples. “If you’re asking whether I handpicked people you’d hate just to make you waste your time and energy, the answer is I didn’t.”
You crossed your arms over your chest. “Well-“
“But-” he continued at the same time as you, in all seriousness. You both went quiet at the same time until he clenched his eyes shut and shook his head. “Nevermind.”
“What?”
“It’s nothing, it’s bullshit.”
“I didn’t care about the last one, but this clearly includes me so speak up.” You narrowed your eyes at him.
“Both of them include you,” he said under his breath, almost inaudible expect for the fact that you were sitting right next to him and you could even hear every breath he took.
“Wait, what?”
He stared at you, panic written on his face. “I didn’t think you’d hear that.”
“I did, so explain it.”
“I told you, it’s nothing-“
“Why are you being so secretive all of a sudden?” you exclaimed, throwing your hands up. “I don’t get it, what’s your issue here? Why do you keep hinting at things like you expect me to understand everything?”
“I don’t expect you to understand any of it, Y/N, because you haven’t all these years,” he snapped, making you tilt your head in confusion.
Your eyebrows were raised so high you thought they might touch your hairline. “Excuse me?”
“I couldn’t make it more obvious at this point.” He sounded annoyed, but it didn’t seem directed at you. That didn’t make it less infuriating though.
“What the hell are you talking about, Bucky?” you were amazed at how cryptic he could be.
“If you still haven’t gotten it, then-“
“Is this about the cups?” you interjected, mouth moving faster than your brain. “Because I know about them.”
He froze midway running his hand through his hair in frustration. “The what?”
“I know you write stuff on them,” you continued calmly, realizing you had hit some kind of a spot. You didn’t tell him you didn’t know what exactly he wrote on them because no one had told you yet.
“Oh.” He choked out. “For how long have you- have you known?”
“A month or so.” You shrugged. “So if that’s what you’re referring to then-“
You trailed off, not knowing what to say next. He had gone still. An uncomfortable silence blanketed you both.
He swallowed thickly, jaw clenching. “I guess I have my answer then.”
He wordlessly got to his feet, shoving his hands deep into his pockets and began walking towards his room two doors down, leaving you utterly confused.
“What?” You scrambled to your feet to follow him. “Where are you-“
“Listen, Y/N, I got it,” he murmured, “I’m sorry I brought it up. You don’t have to explain anything.”
“Yeah, you might be the only one here who got anything, buddy.” You grabbed onto his shoulder in an effort to get his attention. “Will you please just stop-“
“I got your message,” he said quietly, stopping in front of his door. “Loud and clear.”
“James-“ You frowned because suddenly this felt way bigger than what you previously thought it to be. It was just a disagreement; you didn’t expect to see yourself losing a lifelong friendship over it.
“I’m, uh, sorry about the dates. I know you won’t believe me, but I truly didn’t mean for them to turn out like that.” He twisted the lock to his door open and walked in.
You chose to stay at the doorway, not wanting to intrude on his personal space without asking him if he was alright with it. You didn’t know what to say, he just seemed so dejected for some reason he wasn’t letting on.
He went to his table, pulling open a drawer and shifted some books from it before retrieving something else. He wiped at it with his sleeve, briefly looking at it while returning to where you were standing.
“This is yours,” he mumbled, handing it over to you. “As promised, since I didn’t keep up my end of the promise.”
It was a white envelope, frayed at the edges but still fairly surviving the years of being kept in the drawer. It didn’t take you more than three seconds to realize what it was.
It was the letter he promised you at the beginning of your deal.
“I’ll see you later. Have a good Christmas, Y/N.” He forced a small smile on his face before gently closing the door, leaving you alone in the corridor.
You flipped the envelope over to the front, fingers scrabbling to open it. After a few seconds of tripping over your own impatience, you tore the top open. You pulled out the paper, stomach lurching at the sight of his handwriting.
Summary: In which your best friend’s brother begins to set you up on dates when you mention that you haven’t been in a relationship in years, but things don’t go as expected.
Warning: mentions of past cheating, angst, alcohol
A/N: im back after 2 months lol hello to the 4 people who still read this
this is my entry for @viktordrago‘s writing challenge.
everyone say thanks to @samingtonwilson for putting up with me and being the best
here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333
Previous part- Part 9 || Espresso Masterlist
The world around you was dark when you stepped outside, shutting the door of your house behind you and pulling your jacket tight across your body in hopes of evading the chilling wind nipping at your cheeks.
It was the night before Christmas Eve– or as Bucky so poetically named it: “Christmas Eve-Eve” – and you couldn’t help but be disappointed at the thought of your upcoming night. You dreaded having to spend time with someone who would inevitably serve as a way to pass time and nothing more. You almost felt bad that they were trying their hand at someone who was so out of the game before it had even begun– but you couldn’t bring yourself to feel sympathetic.
Bucky had chosen the most popular bar in your town as the venue– a bar which checked ID’s as a mere formality, a bored security employee glancing at the birthdate and shrugging to let in most people who simply “looked old enough.”
With scuffed wooden stables and pictures of frequent patrons, nearby teams, or people they were proud to have once served, the bar was never truly empty, it always had at least one or two groups drinking until they blacked out.
And like always, the bar was filled with the warm sounds of people laughing, glasses clinking together in celebration and drunken karaoke with no musical accompaniment.
Your eyes quickly scanned the crowd, looking for someone who was possibly dressed for a date. And you found none.
Sighing, you quickly shot off a text to Bucky about the whereabouts of your supposed company for the night, Scott, shuffling from the doorway when the bell above the door jingled upon its opening.
Receiving an ineffective “He isn’t there yet?” in response, you sighed once more and stuffed your phone into your pocket, deciding that a stool at the bar counter was your best bet. After all, if your date wasn’t going to show up, then at least you could drown yourself with enough alcohol to have a good time alone.
“Y/N?”
If you hadn’t committed that voice to memory for reasons you refused to acknowledge, you would have believed you were hallucinating.
Your jaw clenched, then relaxed. Fuckin’ Dolores. “Dot? What are you doing here?”
“Hey! What a coincidence!” she laughed, pulling you into a gentle hug as your body stiffened uncomfortably against the contact. She didn’t seem to notice. “I’m here to meet someone. What about you?”
“Date.”
“Really?” She tilted her head. “Wait– is this one of those dates Bucky’s setting you up on?”
You gave her a tight-lipped smile in return, eliciting a sigh and a shake of her head.
“God, he’s so fucking dense.” She rolled her eyes, her lips stretching into a fine line of what looked to be pity.
You didn’t ask what she’d meant by it and only quirked an eyebrow. It’s not like you disagreed, per se.
“Well, hey, if your date’s running late, you’re more than welcome to hang out with me.”
“Um-“ You racked your brain for an excuse not to, but found none that’d be polite enough so you relented, repressing a scowl. “Sure?”
You followed her lead through the crowd, stopping at a set of stools placed before the counter. Motioning at an empty pair, she told you to sit and that she’d be right back once she found the friend she was meeting.
You obliged and slid onto one of the stools to face the door, the palm of your hand supporting your head. You could feel the onset of a headache which did nothing to make you feel better.
You were in a mood, obviously, and it was not one that screamed approachability. It irked you that every time you came close to even letting Bucky know what you wanted, the universe had other plans. And even with that anger and dissatisfaction, you would have rather spent time with him and Becca than at a bar, waiting for the last date of your stupid bet.
It was a while before you felt someone beside you and you didn’t bother to look up until there was obnoxious laughter, forcing you out of your reverie.
“Oh, this is my friend, Y/N,” Dot said as she got settled in her seat, nodding to the bartender you had yet to acknowledge, a grin on her face.
“Hey there.”
You laboriously lifted your head to answer his greeting, only to have your words die down in your suddenly dry throat.
“I’m Brock, but everyone just calls me Rumlow.”
You stared blankly at him, eyes too baffled to blink. It felt as if you were frozen. You could see the recognition in his eyes but he made no attempt to make that recognition known.
To say it hit you like a truck would be an understatement. You weren’t sure if your sight was deceiving you, but you hadn’t drank any alcohol yet nor had you ingested hallucinogenic mushrooms so it couldn’t be that.
Fuck.
“Is something wrong?” Dot interrupted your growing panic, bringing you back to the moment harshly.
He hadn’t moved, only jutted his hand further out in an attempt to give you a handshake.
“No,” you replied roughly, trying to look at him as coolly as you could– as if everything inside you was calm. “Nothing at all.”
“Have you met before?” Dot asked, intermittently glancing at the both of you.
You watched him silently, assessing his face to see what he would say.
“This would be the first time,” he said with a smile so casual, you almost missed the tiniest bit of uncertainty that flashed across his face.
“Oh, cool,” she shrugged. And even her shrug nearly had you jumping.
“Can I get you both anything?” He gestured behind him to the numerous bottles lining the shelves; some so old they had begun to collect dust.
“Just a beer. Y/N?”
You mutely shook your head, not taking your eyes off him.
“Bottle or pint?”
“Bottle,” she replies easily, smiling easily, breathing easily.
He nodded and left the two of you to get her a bottle.
“How, uh, how do you know him?” you cleared your throat, hoping to sound as inconspicuous as possible. She clearly had no idea about what was going on– and she thought Bucky was dense.
“We’ve known each other years. He was on the football team at Middleton. Met him when he came to our school for a game.”
“Ah.”
“Here you go,” Rumlow announced, placing an open glass bottle in front of her, returning his attention to you.
“Sure you don’t want anything?”
You shook your head again, dropping your gaze to the sticky counter instead.
He didn’t pursue it further, instead picking up a glass from under the counter.
“What’s going on with you nowadays, Dot?” he asked nonchalantly, gently wiping at the glass with a worn out towel.
You wanted to get out of here as soon as possible without raising suspicion, but your date hadn’t arrived and it hadn’t even been ten minutes since you sat down.
“Other than crying from constant stress and anxiety on a daily basis? Nothing much really,” she laughed, bringing the bottle to her lips.
“You both go to the same college?” he gestured between the two of you as if he didn’t already know.
You furrowed your eyebrows at him when his gaze lingered on you longer than you would have liked– so, at all.
He quickly returned to looking at her rather than you.
“Nah, we had a mutual friend who I met at a coffee shop recently and he introduced us. Actually,” she squinted. “You might know him. Bucky Barnes?”
You saw his jaw clench as he subtly raised his fingers to itch at his nose. It was still slightly disfigured from when it was last broken. You held yourself back from smirking smugly.
“Yeah, I know him. Barnes and I go way back,” his voice was venomous but his maintained composure overall.
Your knuckles were beginning to hurt with how hard your fists were clenched, almost like you were waiting for a moment when you would have to defend yourself.
“Hold on a second. You both-“ she straightened her back, putting her bottle down as she glanced between you both.
Your heart leapt to your throat.
Did she finally figure it out?
“You both used to go to the same school.” She furrowed her eyebrow as if she was trying to recollect a distant memory. “Yeah- Middleton, right? How haven’t you met each other before?”
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
“I think I may have been a year or two ahead of you. Barnes and I were the same year,” he replied calmly before you could reply with what would probably have been an incoherent mess of sentences meshed together.
You leaned back, giving him a nod. “Yeah, that. What he said.”
“That makes sense.” She shrugged, letting go of the topic easily. She nudged your elbow gently, gaining your attention. “Any update on your date?”
“Uh-“ you quickly checked your phone, finding no texts or calls. “No. Don’t think it’s happening.”
“You waitin’ on a date?” Rumlow looked up from his distraction with sudden interest.
Raising an eyebrow, you simply replied, “Yes.”
“If he stands you up, he’s a dick,” Dot stated, raising her beer. “I fuckin’ hate it when people do that.”
“Wait, people have stood you up before?” he asked, putting down a glass and picking up another almost like clockwork, a teasing smile on his face. The scar above his near his eye crinkled when he did so.
You were there when he got that, some dumb fight his ego landed him in.
“More times than I would like.” She rolled her eyes, taking a large swig. “But it’s not the worst thing to happen on a date.”
“What could possibly be worse than not even being on one?”
“Lots of things, buddy. Bad dates are a whole other ballgame.”
You agreed silently, your experiences for the past few months speaking for themselves.
She continued, “What’s your worst date story, Rumlow?”
“Uh,” he paused before he laughed to himself. “If we’re not counting the stand-ups, middle school with this girl I liked before I realized she was the clingiest person I had ever met and tried to stick her tongue down my throat every five minutes.”
“Isn’t that exactly the way you are now? I see she later became your role model,” Dot tipped her bottle at him but he just rolled his eyes at her.
“Y/N.” Oh no. “Worst date story?” Fuck.
You had plenty of stories from the past few months, hell from even before that. But… there was no way you’d get this opportunity again.
“Got any good ones?”
Should you even dare to do that? Was it worth it? You didn’t even know how he would react. It was way too risky.
Oh, fuck it.
“High school, with this senior. I’d been dating him for almost two years and he asks me to come to a party as some excuse for a date,” you snorted a laugh. “That was a sign, like almost everything else he did, that our relationship wasn’t in a good place. So I thought, ‘Okay, we’ll get to talk things out.’”
You hear the sharp cling of Rumlow placing the glass back onto the countertop, but you ignored him, your smirk still very self-satisfied. You knew he knew where you were going with this.
You don’t take your eyes off him, watching the vein in his neck begin to strain against his skin. “I get there and all’s well until we start arguing about something stupid, don’t even remember what. You know how guys are.”
Dot nodded with a roll of her eyes.
“And we just keep yelling about things that don’t even matter, about things that we’d pulled from thin air. Just, you know, anything to get a rise out of the other, really.”
You could see him swallowing but never breaking his composure.
You glanced at Dot. She was listening intently, chin resting on her palm. You took it as a sign to continue.
“Then it was just incoherent screams and then,“ you inhaled, forcing yourself to loosen your grip before your knuckles splintered, “he says he’d been cheating on me for about a year by then. Someone from another school so that no one we knew would see them together.”
Dot drew in a sharp intake of breath. “Shit.”
“That wasn’t even the worst part. He came from a pretty rough background and used to borrow cash off me often. I didn’t think much of it, because you know, it’s his own business, and I just wanted to help him out how ever I could.” You laughed humorlessly. “Turns out he was using that money to spend on the other girl he was with. Bought her cute stuff, took her out on dates on the days he stood me up, the works. It was pretty fucked up.”
“Jesus Christ.”
You could see him look at Dot after her reaction and you wondered if he was actually scared you’d tell her the truth.
“And then he broke up with me. I think he left her soon after that too because he lost his source of income.” You looked at him straight in the eye, never once blinking. You hoped he was squirming. “Fucked me up for a little while, especially since I saw him around the rest of his senior year until he finally graduated– which was unexpected given his academic record. Didn’t really bother with any kind of relationship after that.”
“That’s screwed up on so many levels. I’m sorry, dude,” she didn’t say anything further, and you didn’t really expect her to.
“Enough about me, though. What about you?” You put on a small smile.
“Nothing I’ve experienced could come close to that, buddy, I think you’ve outdone all of us,” she joked, laughing to herself.
“It isn’t a competition, you know.” You nudged at her. You deliberately were avoiding looking at him, noticing from the corner of your eye that he had stopped his cleaning and was instead leaning on the countertop. “C’mon, what’s your worst?”
“Honestly nothing too bad. Just a few incredibly lame dates, but other than that-“
“Hey, why don’t you tell Y/N here about the disaster of a relationship in your junior year?” he broke in loudly, gaining your attention.
“God, no, we agreed to never talk about that,” she playfully rolled her eyes at him but he looked adamant.
A smile spread across his cheeks, one that was almost sinister. He glanced at you silently, letting his gaze linger, leaving a unsettling feeling in your gut. Suddenly, you didn’t feel so great about what was about to happen.
“No, no, I’m sure she’d be very interested in hearing all about it.”
“Jesus, fine.” She chugged the rest of her beer, almost as if it was for courage. “Brock and I had this very brief-“
“It wasn’t brief,” he protested.
“Fine. He and I had a fling for a year in high school.”
“In my senior year.”
It felt like your blood ran cold.
“It was fun but then we agreed it didn’t work out because he was graduating.” She poked at his shoulder but he wasn’t paying any attention to her.
He was staring directly at you and for good reason.
“It was great. We hung out a lot, even though we weren’t in the same school. Almost felt like more than a year.”
“We were never ‘official.’” She used air quotation marks, obviously trying to downplay it. It clearly wasn’t something she liked talking about but he kept pushing it.
“But that didn’t stop us from doing a lot of things.” He smirked and she punched his arm.
Your mouth opened and closed like some kind of fucking fish but it felt like you couldn’t breathe. He cheated on you with Dot? With fucking Dot?
Was there anyone in your life not interested in her?
“It’s embarrassing and we agreed never to mention it again,” she said something after that but it was like you were tuning everything out to try and make sense of it on your own.
But it didn’t.
It didn’t make any sense. How did you miss this? Fuck, you never bothered finding out the girl’s name. You didn’t even know what she looked like or which grade she was in.
Idiot.
“I-I need to go,” you choked out, grabbing your phone and stuffing it into the pocket of your jacket haphazardly, fingers trembling. You couldn’t believe he had gotten under your skin again and you had just completely given him a chance to do so.
“So soon?” Rumlow asked, feigning surprise. You couldn’t even look him in the face but his amusement was glaringly obvious.
“Wait, did something happen?” Dot grabbed a hold of your shoulder and you nearly threw it off.
Don’t fucking touch me.
She looked taken aback but didn’t voice it. “Do you need me to drop you off somewhere?”
“No. No, I’m just gonna go.”
“Y/N-“
Get out, get out, get the fuck out of there.
“It was nice meeting you!” He called out from behind you.
Your head was reeling. You didn’t even turn around for a final look, just stumbled out of the bar into the deserted street.
After calling for an Uber that was only a minute or two away, you stumbled over your own feet to the car and asked the driver to step on it, praying that he wouldn’t try to make conversation with you.
Your fingers hovered above Bucky’s contact as you stared at his name. There’s no way he would have known. He wouldn’t have done this to you, would he?
“Hey! Aren’t you supposed to be on a date-“
“Did you know?”
“What?” On any other occasion it would be a relief to hear Bucky’s voice after another shitty date but now it just furthered your rage.
“Did you fucking know?”
The excitement he’d expressed in his voice when he’d first answered the call seemed to diminish and worry took its place as he replied, “Know what?”
“About Rumlow.”
He went silent. “What about him?”
“That he worked at the fucking bar you sent me to, James. Jesus Christ.” You rolled your eyes so hard you hoped it would somehow translate to his end.
“I- Y/N- what?”
“What about him and Dolores, huh?” Bucky had to have known about that. For Christ’s sake, their dumb sport of grown men chasing a ball would have allowed them to spend an absurd amount of time together.
“Wait, what does Dot have to do with any of this, I’m so-“
“You two were on the same goddamn football team Bucky, how could you have not known?” Your volume had risen exponentially and you ignored the questioning stare the driver gave you through the rearview mirror.
“You’re not making any sense here Y/N, I genuinely have no idea what you’re talking about.” He almost sounded distressed and if you weren’t so riled up, you would have already stopped by now.
“He cheated on me with her,” Your stomach felt like it was being twisted into knots when you finally said it out loud. You sunk into your seat, quietening. “She’s the girl from the other school.”
He fell silent for a few moments once more. “I don’t understand.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” your voice cracked and you tightened your grip on your phone, pinching your thigh with your other hand.
Keep it together, damn it.
“Tell you? I didn’t even know-“
“Did you-” It felt fucked up to even think it but it felt like the irrationality hit you out of nowhere. “Did you set me up with this?”
“Wait, what-”
“Rumlow, Dot– this was too fucking coincidental.” You were justifying it more and more with every passing second, your mind spinning absurdities. “Was there even a date tonight or were you just fucking with me?”
“I… I can’t believe you just asked me that,” his voice was soft. “I would never, ever-“
“You never once hinted to me about her and…” you trailed off. “You’ve been hanging out with her months, James, don’t tell me you knew absolutely nothing about this.”
“Do you really think that I would hide something like that from you?”
“I don’t know anymore.”
“What does that even mean-“
“What about the past four dates, huh?” you interrupted again. “You claim to know me, yet every single one of these guys were people you knew I wouldn’t like. Was it all just one big fucking joke? Because if it was, this would be a perfect ending.”
“That was never my intention and you know it.“ You could tell that Bucky was struggling to keep his cool.
You could hear him exhale through the phone. “Wow.”
“Bucky-“ you hesitated, only to have him cut you off.
“That’s just… really unfair, you know? If you really believe I’d go out of my way to do something like this to you then I don’t think there’s anything I can say.”
