#bartender!bucky x peanut!reader

[duuhrayliegh]

equal and opposite (consequences, pt. 2)

a/n: first of all, yall really showed out with the comments and reblogs on the first part of this so THANK YOU SO MUCH like i haven't written anything that i felt was good in months so to have such an overwhelmingly positive response to that post felt amazing!!!!

if you haven’t read part one, i highly recommend checking that out first!!!!

anyway, i hadn't originally intended for this to go anywhere else, but as i've said before bartender!bucky & peanut just wouldn't go away so here we are!!! i hope this lives up to the expectations and if we want more PLEASE LET ME KNOW I LIVE TO PLEASE

“Can you please just sit down? I don’t understand what’s happening to us!”

“That’s the problem!”

He throws his hands above his head out of exasperation. They land on his hips as their new resting place and he levels you with a frustrated glare. A glare. Apparently, you’re not worth the energy it takes to filter the emotions from his tone or expressions. That luxury must be saved for his plethora of mistresses.

“You don’t understand me anymore!”

“Understand you?”

Going home has become harder and harder. Despite desperately wanting to fix your marriage, it seems your efforts might have been in vain. No matter how hard you try, your husband has made every effort to avoid having a real conversation with you. To say you’re at your wit's end would be generous.

“Yes! Coming home to you is too stressful for me. I’m in the office all week and then I come home to a wife who doesn’t put in any effort to make herself desirable for me.”

Your jaw dropped, as did the wooden spoon in your hand. His words float through your head on repeat. That voice you used to love, the same voice that vowed to always love and cherish you in his wedding vows. Now, you’re cooking for a man you don’t know.

“Then why stay with me? If I’m so clearly not what you want, why stay?”

There’s a drawn out silence that is accompanied by softly heaving breaths and the simmering pot of homemade spaghetti sauce.

“You’re what I want in a wife. You just don’t understand my needs in the way that Shelia does.”

Your blood boils. Shelia—the latest girlfriend in a string of girlfriends. How dare he? You turn to the stove and begin clicking everything off. You fume while gathering your purse and keys to a home that you no longer feel welcome in.

“This is why I didn’t want to get into this. You’re too emotional and I knew you’d play the victim whenever I’m suffering too!”

You roll your eyes, refusing to engage because you’ll only hurt yourself more. Instead, you pry the door open and slam it shut before trekking off down the hallway.

You don’t have a plan, all you know is that you need to get out. You’re lucky that you were wearing a hoodie and jeans whenever you started getting into it with John. It’s not the first time that you had to get out, so you’ve learned over the past few months.

Wind whips against your cheeks when you exit your apartment building. You pull your hood over your head and start walking aimlessly. You reach for your phone and dial the first number you think of.

You never stop walking, street lamps lighting the sidewalk with a pale yellow light. There’s an irritating sting starting behind your eyes that you refuse to acknowledge. You don’t have to listen to the trilling of the phone line for long before it’s interrupted.

“Commando’s. How can I help you?”

The music in the bar is loud enough that you can clearly make out Steve’s divorced dad rock playlist. A rush of relief shoots down your spine and you breathe a sigh while enjoying the subtle ambiance through your phone speaker.

“Hello?”

It’s only then that you realize you’ve been on the phone for the past thirty seconds without saying anything.

“Bucky?”

“Peanut?”

“Hi, uh--I didn't have your number and I didn't know who else to call."

"Hang on, Peanut. I'm here, hang on." Suddenly the music is reduced to a bouncing bass line. "Are you okay?"

You continue walking, breathing in the stale air of the city as you debate your answer. For the most part, sure, you're okay. You’re not physically harmed in any way, just a deep emotional hurt that persists through the stark cold of the air around you. But if someone looked twice, or you spend more than half a second around someone you're comfortable with, that answer wouldn’t hold water.

"The wheels, Peanut, I can hear them. I need you to answer me. Are you okay?"

Bucky's voice is soft and grounding. Your heartbeat starts to match the steady baseline of the bar's music.

"I'm okay?"

Bucky's soft laugh echoes through the phone speaker, "That sounded like a question more than an answer, Peanut." He then pauses and sighs, "What did he do now?"

You suck in a sharp breath, debating on how to answer his question. The lead weight that had previously settled in your stomach begins to lessen as you hear Bucky’s voice.

On the one hand, Bucky has become the person you feel the most comfortable with. You don't have anyone close to you in the city because you moved out here to support John's career. Your family is on the other side of the country, and it's not like you've had a whole lot of time to build a support system here.

On the other, Bucky didn't sign up for this. He didn't sign up for a broken wife that isn't even his! You have no connection to him outside of becoming a regular at his bar and forming a possibly misguided attraction.

“Peanut? Come on back to me."

“Sorry, Buck. I just—“ you trail off, not entirely sure how to handle yourself.

“Don’t worry about it, Peanut Butter.” You laugh softly at the lengthier version of your nickname while he continues talking. “Look, how about we meet somewhere so we can talk?”

“Aren’t you working tonight though? I can just come to the bar.”

No matter how appealing Bucky’s offer is, you don’t want him to risk his livelihood for you. You aren’t worth that, not really.

“Not anymore, Pea. You’re more important to me. The guys here can handle the bar while I leave to take care of my Ps and Qs.”

You giggle again, unsure of where he comes up with these iterations.

“There she is.”

The words are murmured low, as if he was just speaking to himself. As if it’s a remark not meant for public consumption, just a murmur of his adoration.

“There’s a little hole in the wall on 115th and North. It’s called Winnie’s. Meet me there and you can talk for however long they’re serving coffee.”

"Don't diners always serve coffee?"

"They sure do. And Winnie's is a 24-hour diner. Which means," There's a loud shuffle on his end of the phone and then his voice cuts through. "you can talk to me for as long as you want, Peanut."

"Thank you, Bucky." You aren't as loud as you meant to be, but you know he hears you when he hums before you end the call.

Shoving the phone in the pocket of your jacket, you search for street signs.

And now you stand in front of Winnie's, a sixties diner straight off a movie set. Bright neon illuminates the street below, bathing you in a turquoise light that you're sure is not at all flattering. The front door is encased in chrome and vinyl covers the seating throughout the restaurant.

You push through the front doors and spy a large jukebox on the left side of the building. There's no host stand, so you peer around the seats in search of your bartender.

"Welcome to Winnie's. hun! Just take a seat, we'll be right with ya!"

An older woman yells from behind the bar top. Her graying hair is pulled into a neat bun at the base of her neck and you're just about to read her nametag when you hear a familiar voice.

"Peanut! This-a-way!" Bucky stands from a booth in the corner, grabbing your attention and everyone else in the restaurant.

A bright blush colors your cheeks as you make your way to his booth in the corner. The linoleum floor of the diner becomes increasingly interesting the closer you find yourself to Bucky. To be completely truthful, you've never seen Bucky outside of the bar, so this is a jarring, but welcome experience.

He's still wearing those annoyingly large boots and tight white shirt that never fails to distract you when you're sitting on the twirly bar stools. His metal arm is on full display, the gold in-lay catching the light as he twists a straw wrapper into a tight spiral.

Bucky stands to greet you once you reach the booth, leaning toward you and wrapping you in his warm embrace. Your breath catches at his sudden body heat, but you waste no time in curling your arms around his torso.

"This might be the dumbest and most obvious question, but," he pulls back from the hug and gestures toward the seat across from him, "how’re you doing?"

A stifled laugh escapes as you settle into the worn vinyl seat. Instead of answering, you pull a less-than-convincing smile that you know Bucky can see right through. Evidenced by the fact that he laughs sarcastically at the look of it.

"Yeah, thought as much."

"It's just all becoming too much, I think."

An older woman brings two coffee mugs to the table, gripping a half-full coffee pot in her other hand. You stop yourself before you divulge anything in the presence of strangers. You don't need to burden another random stranger with your problems, Bucky is more than enough.

“Who's your friend, Jamie?"

Bucky smiles while introducing you to the woman. He extends the same courtesy to you, placing the name of the woman in front of you.

"Peanut, this is Winnie. She's the owner and operator of Winnie's diner."

Bucky pours a healthy dose of sugar into your coffee mug and then drops a spoon into it before pushing it across to you. You're in the middle of taking a large sip of the hot drink when Bucky continues talking.

"She's also my mother."

“Oh!"

He laughs as you sputter, completely phased by his nonchalance about introducing you to his mother. To be fair, you don’t really know Bucky outside of him being a great listener and mixologist. Winnie laughs and talks with the both of you before politely excusing herself to take care of her other customers.

“Your mother?”

Bucky leans forward and locks eyes with you.

“I’m so sorry. She wasn’t meant to be working today, but you would have met her one way or another.”

There he goes again, that dizzying nonchalance that bleeds into every word he speaks. Your mouth opens to speak, but you're still in a state of stunned that has you stumbling on your words.

"I'm just kidding, Nutter Butter." Bucky laughs and you hum while picking at your cuticles.

"Sorry, just took me by surprise."

"Clearly."

Bucky glances at your hands that are resting on the table and shifts around his side of the booth. There's a brief moment of silence as you mull over what Winnie has said.

"Did she call you 'Jamie'?"

Bucky lets out a loud laugh. One of those laughs that sounds like the feeling snuck up on everyone, including the person laughing.

"That's what you focused on, Peanut?"

You're smiling more in the past five minutes with Bucky than you have in the past five months with John. Bucky stops shuffling and then removes his coffee cup from the saucer it sits on. He slides the tiny plate toward you as you talk.

"Thank you for meeting me, Buck. Like I said, I think I'm just getting too tired of his bullshit. He really came at me today with the attitude that this is all my fault." Bucky nods as you continue speaking, "As if I'm the one who asked for an open marriage."

Bucky reveals a Ziplock bag and dumps the contents of it into the saucer in front of you. You're just about to start a rant when he nudges a salty shell into your hands. You glance down for half a second before getting the ball rolling.

"John asked for this! He's the one that's causing all this... this turmoil in our relationship. I haven't gone on a single date! I haven't caused a single issue. All I've been trying to do is understand things from his point of view, but he won't even give me the time of day to do that. I can't even suggest something like marriage counseling because he runs out the door the second he sees me enter a goddamn room."

You stop to take another long sip of your coffee while Bucky sits back and lets you rant at him across from yet another counter. You can see him chewing on the inside of his cheek, clearly holding back from saying something.

"I don't even know what to do anymore!" You huff and shove your hair over your shoulder. "What do you think?"

"Do you want my honest opinion or do you want me to just be here for you?"

"I want you to be you."

"Okay." Bucky nods, you crack open yet another peanut and place the shell on a napkin next to the plate. "I think you should start considering divorcing ol' Johnny boy."

"I can't do that."

Your response is immediate. Too quick to be healthy really. The shell of the peanut cracks between your fingers, revealing the salty perfection inside.

"Alright, divorce is off the table. How do you feel about separation?"

"No."

"Why?"

"It goes against everything I was raised to believe. I was brought up under the idea that the person you marry is the person you stick next to no matter what."

"Even when that person isn't extending the same courtesy?"

"I just--" You sniffle, peeling open yet another peanut. "I just want to be loved, Bucky. I don't understand what I did to make him look for love and affection from someone other than me."

Bucky reaches across the table and covers your hand with his, rubbing his thumb against your knuckles soothingly. You found yourself in this same position three months ago. It was when Bucky first told you of his interest in dating you.

To be perfectly honest, you were about two slow blinks away from folding into his arms then. Nothing's changed. You're still half a second from completely melting for the man before you, but you can't get over the fact that you're married.

"Peanut, you may never understand his reasoning. Especially when he won't sit down and explain anything to you. I think you should do what's in your best interest. If you don't want to divorce or separate, then you need to surround yourself with people who will give you that love and affection that you need."

A soft lull coats the pair of you and you allow your eyes to lock with Bucky's. What you find there shocks you.

Pity is something that you never, ever want to experience, but with a shitty situation like your marriage, you've come to expect it. Every time you glance in a mirror or catch your reflection in a store window, or even a puddle of water, you find your own eyes layered with that sickening sadness that accompanies self-pity.

However, in Bucky's clear blue eyes, you find nothing but determination. Determination for what is the question you're now faced with. In all reality, Bucky has no dog in this fight. He has no reason to be helping you the way that he has. Bucky's expressed interest in you, sure, but that doesn't constitute going to the lengths that he does.

"I just want you to be happy."

"Do you think you could make me happy?"

"Absolutely."

You nod while popping the last peanut into your mouth and wiping your hands off on your jeans. You stand unceremoniously and then hold your hand out to Bucky. He stares at your outstretched hand in half-baked shock and then jumps at the opportunity.

"See ya later, Ma! Love ya."

"Will you be home for family dinner?"

"Nope, gotta take my Peanut to the ballgame!"

Bucky rushes you out of the diner and pulls you to a heavy-looking motorcycle. You laugh as he pries open one of the saddlebags on the bike. He reveals two helmets, one white and one black. Both have sleek features with a face cover that reflects Bucky's sharp features.

"What?" His laugh that follows is full of nervous energy as you continue to laugh. "What's so funny?"

"It just--" You snort quietly, "You would drive a motorcycle."

"Oh yeah? And why's that, Peanut Brittle?"

You wave your hand as if you're circling his whole body and shrug while smiling your ass off.

"You just gestured to all of me."

You both break into a fit of laughter, only for Bucky to break it off and unclip the chin strap of the white helmet.

"Well, does safety also fit with..." he does the same gesture as you, "all this?"

Bucky gently rests the helmet on the leather seat of the motorcycle and then leans over to you.

"You might want to pull your hair back. Trust me I love your hair down, but whenever you're riding it's easier in the long run."

"Oh, okay." You begin to pull your hair back when you remember that your hair tie is on the counter at your apartment. "Actually, I think I'll suffer the consequences."

Bucky glances at you and then asks, "You need a tie?"

He prompts you to turn around and he quickly coaxes your hair into a neat ponytail at the base of your neck. You turn back to him with wide eyes, your hand reaching back to check the hairstyle.

"Come on. I've got plans, Payday! I've got ideas to romance ya!"

You laugh while Bucky beams and puts the white helmet over your head. Once it's secured, he swipes the visor up and boops your nose. You scrunch it in retaliation and he shakes his head at you. He grips the sides of your helmet and tilts your head to the side. A loud Bluetooth signal sounds and a robotic female voice informs you that the device has been connected.

"So, basic rules of the bike. I lean, you lean." He taps on the side of the helmet he just fiddled with. "This is a microphone, so we'll be able to communicate without the visors being up. Don't be afraid to squeeze if you feel a little wobbly. I promise I can handle whatever you give me, Peanut."

You flush at his words, thankful that you're already wearing the helmet so he isn't privy to the bright red coloring overtaking your cheeks. Bucky slips on his own helmet and mounts the bike in one smooth motion. His hands glide to the handlebars and then he turns to face you and jerk his head in the opposite direction.

You release a deep breath and give yourself a mini pep talk before placing your hands on Bucky's shoulders. The difference between them keeps you grounded as you swing your leg over the back of the motorcycle. His voice shoots into your ears, a breathy fuck me that wasn't meant for your ears.

"You ready?"

This question is at a normal level, and you respond in kind. The bike roars to life beneath you and you jolt toward him, arms immediately wrapping around his waist tightly.

"Hold on tight, spider monkey."

You giggle and interlock your fingers above the waistline of his jeans. Now, you can feel every breath he takes, every minuscule contraction of his muscles from every movement he makes to control the beast between his legs. You try to take steady breaths in order to control your heartbeat and match Bucky's, but the faster he goes, the faster your heart beats against his back.

City lights blur past as you find your rhythm behind Bucky. The more comfortable you get, the looser your grip becomes around him. He takes you through downtown with all the newer, hipster restaurants inhabiting the busy streets. Bucky begins to slow and you look up to see his profile illuminated under the bright red of the traffic stop.

His feet rest on the ground beside the bike, holding it upright while it rumbles idly. Bucky leans back into you, his hands moving from the handlebars to your thighs. He traces the skin that's exposed by the rips of your jeans. The loose material allows just enough space for his fingers to burrow beneath and trace meaningless patterns into your skin.

Butterflies make themselves known in the pit of your stomach, along with another slightly less prominent heat building at his touch on your skin.

"We're almost there, Peanut Brittle." Bucky's voice is melodic through the microphone. You could fall asleep listening to him read a phone book.

The bike thunders to life again as Bucky releases the clutch. More buildings fade as he continues to steer the two of you down the less traveled streets.

"Where are you taking me?"

"Somewhere fun!"

He laughs at your little groan. Surprises aren't necessarily your favorite thing, but if it's Bucky, maybe it'll be tolerable.

Suddenly, Bucky drops his right hand from the bars and indicates his next turn. The pair of you lean in that direction slightly as he slows into a parking lot of a roller rink. The sign for the Rockin' Roller Rink has a bright yellow arrow blinking toward the building at the base of its billboard.

He rolls into a parking spot near the entrance and pops the kickstand out to steady the bike. You peel yourself off of his back and rest your hands on your thighs while taking in your surroundings. Bucky slips his helmet off and then turns his torso to face you.

"As much as I love you on my ride, Peanut, you have to get off first."

You flush red beneath the visor and quickly dismount. However, in your rush to get off, you don't realize how unstable your legs are as they bear your full weight after the ride. Bucky's hands shoot out to your waist as he remains on the bike, a wry grin on his lips.

"Sorry, should've warned you about that." He stands in front of you and dusts off your shoulders before deciding that you're okay. "It's because of the riding position when you're on the bike. If you aren't used to that, it can be a little jarring the first few times."

He takes your helmet and then removes the keys from the ignition. Bucky bends at the waist and hooks his key carabiner to your belt loops.

As he straightens to his full height, he remarks with a wink, "Plus, the vibrations don't help much either."

You squawk unattractively and smack his chest with the back of your hand while he belly laughs. His metal hand hovers over your lower back as he guides you into the double doors of the roller rink. While he pulls open the door for you, you think about all the times that your husband has failed to do even that act of basic decency.

You shake your head as you walk in, determined to put him out of your mind. That is until you remember the one stipulation of your open marriage--you both have to disclose when you go on dates. Your mind drifts to all the unanswered texts he's sent you about his various dates. Little quips that accomplish nothing but remind you that your husband sees you as less than. A relationship that he no longer has to put effort into and hasn't for some time now. You take your phone from your back pocket to shoot John a quick text, a sour look overtaking your face as you do.

On a date, be home later. You’re quick to swipe your phone onto do not disturb and shove it back into your pocket. You aren’t ready to face the hypocrisy that John will manage to cook up.

"You okay, Peanut?" Bucky's voice clears everything. All the swirling doubt, the immense turmoil that you feel when you think of John, everything negative is wiped when you focus on Bucky.

Perhaps that's also an issue. Maybe you need to be single instead of dating. Maybe you need to love yourself before anyone else can effectively love you. What if that's the real issue? The real reason why John had to seek affection outside of your marital bonds. Maybe it was because you were so unloveable to the point that it was more effort to work through your issues than find an effortless partner somewhere else.

A cold finger taps your temple causing you to blink harshly and refocus on the man before you. This man who's become your safe haven, your harbor in this horrific storm that is your marriage. The man who brings peanuts to his mother's diner because you called him to meet up. The man who knows you better than your husband who you've known for half your life.

"The wheels," your bartender reminds you as he pulls you to the side of the room. His arms envelop you until all you can process is biceps, one cold and one warm. Bucky's cheek rests against your head and you can't find it in yourself to stop from melting into his touch. "How about this," he shifts away from you just enough to meet your eyes, "you just take it one hour at a time?"

"One hour?" You ask, brows furrowing skeptically at the concept. You've never been someone who just focuses on the thing in front of you. Your whole life you had a plan--get married, have kids, and secure a stable home life. Although, now that you think about it, your way isn't really that effective. What has your way got you? A decaying marriage, no kids, and a job that you tolerate at most.

"Just one at a time. Nothing can be that daunting if it's one at a time." He smiles big and leans forward, "And let's face it, your first hour is going to be spent watching me almost bust my ass on rollerblades."

You giggle and look at the ground, only for Bucky to lift your face up with a finger on your chin. He stares deep into your eyes, making you think if you stare long enough, you'll meld into one. His grip changes so that most of his fingers cup your jaw, allowing his thumb to trace your bottom lip. His metal finger tugs downward on your lip, releasing it from the hold between your teeth.

"That's definitely one of my current favorite noises you make." He struts off to the front counter, you trailing behind with a confused look on your face at his dopey smile. The implications of his comment seeping into your bones causing a deep heat to light in the pit of your stomach.

As you approach the teller, Bucky's already disclosed his shoe size for the rental pair of skates. The teenager behind the counter makes a bored grunt at the instruction and turns to you, waiting for your size before they trot off to fill the order. Once again, you're left alone with your bartender.

You lean against the raised platform, shoulder digging into the overhanging lip of the counter. During this brief moment of solitude, you take your time taking in Bucky. He really is a mountain of a man, coming in at six-foot-five inches of corded muscle and steel, he's really nothing less than impressive.

His hair just brushes the top of his broad shoulders, though you hardly ever see it down. He always manages to have it tied securely at the base of his neck. However one time, you remember walking into the bar only to see Bucky behind the bar, as usual. Except his hair was bundled on the top of his head. Little wisps of hair fell from the looser hold, framing his forehead and neck. On top of that, he was wearing a red henley that was at least two sizes too small with the sleeves rolled up, showing off his differing forearms in the dim light of Commandos.

It's safe to say that during those few hours you spent with Bucky looking like that, you were a little slower to respond. What's interesting though is that Bucky looks nothing like John. You always thought that John was your ideal man. Based on who you married, you would have assumed you'd be more attracted to Steve than Bucky. Instead, you find yourself lacing up a pair of rental roller skates, that might give you athlete's foot if you're not careful, with the imposing dark-haired man next to you.

"Why bartending?"

The question floats between you as you take the floor. Glistening hardwood reflects the bright neon of the strobe lights and your image beside Bucky. You watch as he glances down at you before refocusing his attention on the path in front of him.

"Well, if I'm being honest, I kind of stumbled into it." He wobbles dangerously as he speaks, hand jutting out to grasp yours in an act of safety. "Shit, sorry." He apologizes sheepishly but makes no move to drop your hand.

You giggle beside him, butterflies awakening from his act of self-comfort, a feeling you haven't felt since your relationship with John began. Bucky squeezes your hand, straightens his back, and pulls you around the rink.

"When I was discharged, it wasn't so much as bartending as it was the ownership of the bar. It gave me a chance to gain some semblance of control back." He stares off into the distance as he speaks as if he's reciting words he said time and time before. You peer up at him, waiting for the rest of his explanation.

Even though you've known Bucky for as long as you have, neither of you has really delved too deep into your pasts. To say you know next to nothing about Bucky's time in the military would be generous. You hum while you ponder his answer.

"Does that need carry into other aspects of your life?"

It's a genuine question, something to move the conversation along because you honestly want to know more about the man beside you. The double entendre of the question doesn't process until you see Bucky blushing beside you with a wry grin. Your eyes bulge, words stammering out of your mouth without finding their full forms.

"Oh-- uh, n— that's not wh--" Your eyes drop to the ground beneath you, the sleek wood reflecting the neon disco of the roller rink lights.

Bucky chuckles beside you, slowly rubbing his thumb against the knuckles of the hand he still holds. He steers the pair of you to the side of the rink, locking you against the slightly sticky bannister with his strong forearms. You quickly level him with a questioning stare as he leans forward and takes a deep breath, undoubtedly getting a strong whiff of your soft vanilla and cherry perfume.

“I’m trying to be very good for you, Peanut. So I’m going to say this once and then we’re going to continue with our date and it isn’t going to come up again until you bring it up yourself.” Your nod is almost imperceptible, but considering how Bucky continues without consequence, you figure he was just mentally preparing himself for his next comment.

“I am enamored with you. I want to have sex with you. I have fantasies that revolved exclusively around you. However, I’m not putting any pressure on this relationship or you. I understand that you need time to process your grief and your marriage, but just know that I’m more than happy to help you through the process and I certainly hope that I’m the first one you go to once you get to a place when you feel confident enough to explore your sexuality.”

You flush at his words, a hot streak racing up your spine before settling in your cheeks, blossoming them into a heavy shade of crimson. Bucky’s left hand comes up to your forehead, brushing away a strand of hair out of your face.

“But not only that, I want to have a relationship with you. I want the late night cuddles. I want the early morning breakfasts. I want to come home from the bar and take a shower with you. I want to wash your hair. I want you to massage my shoulders after a long day. I want to host Saturday barbecues with you for my family and our friends. I want to drive you to the bookstore and regret driving the motorcycle after you get so many because I just can’t say no to you.”

Bucky’s hand drifts down your arm, tracing the soft skin, taking his time to lace his fingers with yours. He pulls you away from the ledge, leading you two into the hustle and bustle of the roller rink. A smile stretches across his features as he tugs you along, a slow steady silence backed by the bumping base of the house music. You fumble with who to respond to him, but you eventually decide that no words are necessary. You know that yiu’ll be able to discuss things further later, you allow yourself to fall into the comfortable company that is your favorite bartender.

Time passes by at a rate you aren’t able to fathom. One moment you’re skating circles around Bucky, laughing as his arms jut out to his sides, steadying himself as he sways and wobbles. You flit out of his reach for a beat only for his arms to wrap around your waist, bringing you to his warm front. You squeal as you clutch his arms, the difference in temperature providing a level of comfort that you’ve been craving for months now.

You tilt your head back to rest on his shoulder, his long hair tickling the apples of your cheek. Soft puffs of air hit your face as he peers down at you, his gaze flickering between your eyes and your lips. He remains stoic, only his eyes giving you any indication that he wants more out of your current embrace.

“Attention all Rockin’ Roller Rink patrons, the rink will be closing in ten minutes! Please return all skates and other rentals to the front desk before leaving.”

The voice over the loudspeaker startles you causing you to jump in Bucky’s embrace. He tightens his hold on you, ensuring that you don’t topple over on your wheels. You breathe out a heavy sigh creating a slight distance between you.

“Come on, let’s go.”

Bucky is quick to follow you to the benches on the side to you could change your shoes so you can return the skates. You’re sure to take out your phone from your back pocket before sitting down. Against your better judgement, you swipe across the screen to turn off the silencing option. The screen illuminates and dozens of notifications flood the screen and you cringe. You shouldn’t feel bad, yore only doing what constitutes an open marriage. You sent the text, that was all that was required of you, and let’s be honest even that was more than what John deserves. Bucky leans back, shooting a glance at your now busy phone.

“Wow, he sure doesn’t miss a beat, does he?”

“Yeah, I’m sure everything he’s texted me the past two hours has been entirely supportive and not at all condescending or hostile.” Sarcasm bleeds into your words, making Bucky chuckle under his breath.

“Oh, ol’ Johnny boy? Nah, he’s nothing but a big old softy who knows that he’s only getting it as good as he’s giving it.” You huff at the comment just as your phone begins to buzz on the tabletop.

A groan leaves your mouth, slipping out before you can filter it. Bucky eyes you as your finger swipes the call button to accept. You haven’t even gotten the phone to your ear before John’s voice carries through the speaker, shouting expletives and derogatory remarks about you.

“Are you fucking kidding me? You’re on a fucking date right now? I can’t believe you!”

Your whole body cringes, and you rush to shove your shoes on to take the call outside. You leave without saying a word to Bucky, unable to look him in the eye while the supposed love of your life berates you over the phone.

“John, I don’t know what you’re upset about.” You tried to remain calm while he carried on. “I followed the single rule that you set in place.”

Bucky takes your free hand and leads you to his bike, leaning against the seat while he watches you pace in front of him. Your once smooth features are now ridged and tense, worry lines aging you ten years the second you get on the phone with John. Your forefinger and thumb find home on the bridge of your nose, pinching the bone there to prevent the sudden headache. You finally stop in your tracks, stomping your foot out of exasperation and then steel your voice.

“I refuse to allow you to speak to me this way, John. You’re the one that opened our marriage, I’m simply following the precedent that you set. I honestly have no idea what your issue with this is.” Your eyes dart to Bucky, “Now, I don’t feel comfortable coming home when you’re speaking to me like this over the phone, so don’t wait up. I’ll come home when you cool off.”

Tears begin to rim your lash line as John continues to shout his lungs bloody. You refuse to meet Bucky’s eyes as you lower the phone, thumb hovering over the end call button. A dark metal palm extends your way, a silent ask for the phone that you don’t have the strength to deny. Bucky watches you as he brings the phone to his ear, listening to your husband’s rant.

“This is completely fucking ridiculous! You’re my wife and I demand you come home and we talk this out like adults. You’re being so unreasonable, right now. And the fact that you think it’s acceptable to text me you’re on a date instead of asking if you could go on one? Who the fuck do you think you are? It’s best you remember who you belong to. You’re so in for it whe—“

Bucky laughs, your head shoots up, eyes locking with his for the first time since you’ve evacuated the roller rink. The laugh is a short, sardonic laugh. One you’ve never heard him make before, almost as if he’s using it as a throat clear. Your breath catches in your throat, knowing how John reacts to being challenged in any capacity.

“Now, I don’t know who you think you are, talking to my Peanut the way that you are. But I’ll tell you one thing for damn sure, you aren’t going to be speaking to her that way ever again.”

It’s another thing about Bucky you’ve never experienced. His tone. It’s dull, lifeless, but full threats that made your skin grow cold and your spine stiffen. You knew Bucky would never cause you harm, but those who hurt the people he loved? The same respect isn’t extended.

“And who the fuck is this?”

“I’m the guy.”

He’s eerily calm, the type of calm you’ve never seen him. You’ve been a distant onlooker while he deals with rowdy bar guests, having to throw out drunk customers who reached their limit and then some. But this… this was something else. John is still yelling, sure to be disturbing your neighbors earning you yet another noise complaint, possibly the one that gets you evicted from your apartment.

“What guy?”

“The guy that’s going to rip your spine out through your throat if you threaten my girl again.”

The world stills. The noisy streets of Brooklyn fade as you search Bucky’s eyes for any semblance of a joke. His eyes have darkened, latching onto yours with a depth that you’ve never seen in them. He reaches for you, pulling you in between his legs by your belt loop. You can hear the stammering on the other end clearly, John’s never had anyone stand up to him with such sincerity.

“If you’re done being a pussy, I’m a little preoccupied. If you’d like to continue this conversation, you may do so anytime at my bar. Howling Commandos. You can Google it and me in your free time. Right now, I’m on a date and you’re interrupting it and disturbing my girl.” Bucky’s hand snakes around your waist, pressing his chin to your chest while maintaining eye contact with you. “Now, apologize to her.”

He switches the phone to speaker mode, allowing you to hear the weakness invading John’s voice. All the while, Bucky’s eyes never leave yours. Your body melts into him, his warmth something that you didn’t realize you were craving. John stammers on his end of the phone, eking out excuses as to not apologize. Bucky clears his throat once more, the action causing his Adam’s apple to bob against your breasts.

“Apologize, Johnny boy.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N.”

Three monotonous beeps echo out into the silent parking lot. Wind whips against your cheeks, igniting a shiver through your body. He shoves your phone into his front pocket before wrapping his other hand around your waist. Bucky shifts again, pressing his forehead into your stomach instead of staring up at you. Your arms come up around his shoulders, burying your face into his soft hair.

“Thank you.”

Bucky says nothing in return, squeezing your middle before pulling back to meet your gaze.

“Let’s go, you can stay at mine.”

He pushes against your hips so he can reposition himself over the bike. You’re quick to stop him, remarking something about him just taking you to a hotel for the night. He cuts you off before you can fully finish your sentence.

“I’m sorry Peanut, but you surely don’t think I’m about to let you spend the night at some sketch hotel by yourself. And I’m certainly not going to let you go back to that apartment with that temperamental skeeze of a husband you have.”

“Let me?” You back up, resting your hand on your now cocked hip.

“Peanut.” Bucky stares up at you, “I didn’t mean it in that way. I’m sorry. I’m only saying that I want you to be safe and I don’t feel comfortable leaving you in either of those environments. I would be much for comfortable if you came home with me so that I could protect you.”

You shoulders relax, in the back of your mind, you know that he didn’t mean anything by it. John always sets you on edge, and it’s unfair of you to put those emotions onto Bucky.

“You’re right, I’m sorry. It’s just… John.” Your sentence trails off, no ending really needed because you know that Bucky understands.

“Come on. Get on, Peanut Butter. We aren’t far from my place.”

You mount Bucky’s bike, his left hand immediately going to your thigh, his fingers threading themselves between the rips of your jeans to feel the soft skin of your knee. The ride to Bucky’s apartment is quiet, the rumbling of the motorcycle beneath you is powerful and steady. Every chance he got, Bucky would slip his fingers into the rips of your jeans, aching to be close to you in every way possible. You lean forward, resting your helmeted head against his back while he drives.

If there was one thing that you never would have guessed, it’s that Bucky Barnes would have pale green wallpaper in his apartment. Not just a pale green, he proudly declares that it’s agate green, the color he spent weeks painstakingly debating between that and nurture green. You giggle as you toe your shoes off at the front door, quietly taking in his personal space.

The exposed brick melds with the dark countertops in a way that’s almost soothing. The pendant lights above the island cast a soft glow over the open floor plan. Bucky turns to face you, peeling off his leather jacket and hanging it on a hook beside the door. You catch his eyes, only to be distracted by the wall of bookshelves on the far end of his apartment.

“Oh my god, Bucky I had no idea you were so interested in reading.”

He laughs, shoving his hands in his front pockets while walking behind you as you approach the stacks of books he has scattered throughout his home.

“I’ve always enjoyed reading. When I was deployed there wasn’t much to do other than read. I had my Ma send me all different kinds of books, from new releases to her favorite classics to stuff my little sister was reading in school.” He stands beside you, shoulder to shoulder as you glance up at him. “Guess I never kicked the habit, though there are worse vices that a person could have.”

You hum, refocusing your attention on the books, but only for a second as Bucky reaches his hand out and leads you up the stairs to the lofted bedroom. Bucky’s comforter matches the green walls that sits behind his TV. Not only that, but his pillow cases vary from overly fluffy to soft silks. The mixture of textures and fabrics is almost too much for your brain to comprehend. You’re about to question it when Bucky returns to your line of sight, a dark Henley in one hand and a pair of boxers in the other.

“I don’t have any pajamas for you, but you can wear these.”

He’s almost sheepish as he presents you with the clothes, a light blush casting over his cheeks. It’s so interesting to interact with him. At times, he’s the most suave man you’ve ever met, and at others, it’s like he’s a lovestruck teenager who’s just got their first girlfriend.

You thank him and follow behind him as he leads you to the en-suite bathroom. Just as Bucky begins to explain where everything is, he bends down to the bottom cabinets and retrieves a spare toothbrush.

“Planning for extra company, huh?” You joke while poking him in the side as he stands next to you in the doorway.

Bucky’s tongue peaks out of his mouth, his teeth catching on his bottom lip as he stares down at you. His eyes do that thing again, the same thing he did just before he laid out his feelings for you earlier. Your breath catches in your throat, is he leaning closer? Are you inching toward him? What are you doing?

“Bucky,” the tension breaks, a dam of emotions behind held back by your dedication to your marriage. “I feel like I should explain.”

His hands rest on your shoulders, quick to silence your worries. He leans forward, dotting a quick kiss to your forehead. Bucky lingers, the soft press of his lips shoots warm and fuzzy feelings through your bones.

“Tomorrow. You’ve had a long night. We can talk about everything in the morning.”

A weight of anxiety lifts from your shoulders as you watch Bucky begins descend the stairs, lush blankets and pillows in hand. You turn back to his room, allowing yourself to sink into his private space.

You peel back the duvet and sit on the edge of his mattress, unsure if you should fully dive into his being. If you’re quiet enough you can hear Bucky downstairs, shuffling on the couch in an attempt to find a comfortable position.

Your eyeline floats over his bedside table, the lamp atop it casting a pale yellow glow over the entire room. The surface next to you is covered in items that are unequivocally Bucky—a worn copy of Journey to the Center of the Earth, a leather bound journal, the few gold rings that he something adorns his digits with while bartending. His rings clink against each other as your fingers drift over the cold metal.

Among his assorted objects is your phone on his charger. The light pink case is slightly out of place, but not enough to be obnoxious. You smile to yourself while lying back in his sheets.

You really do owe him an explanation. Bucky deserves more than some broken woman who’s in a shitty marriage. He deserves the world and then some. All you can offer is a somewhat clear thought process.

You think on John’s actions today. He really showed you his true colors. You start to wonder if he really cares about you or if just cares about having a wife. If it’s the second one, why does it have to be you?

You flip to the other side, now facing the back wall of windows. Your mind is about as calm as the city right now. New York is never quiet, even this far out in Brooklyn. You’re never safe from the light pollution that constantly blocks out the beauty that is the natural night sky.

It makes you long for your hometown, the wide open spaces with vast fields of nothingness that stretch for miles on end. Maybe it’s time you pay it a visit. It would be nice to escape the hodge podge of a life you’re currently living.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you force yourself to slow your breathing. Distantly you can hear Bucky begin to snore, a low monotonous sound that you cling to. For the first time in months you feel secure. Your muscles decompress, your brow unfurls and you allow yourself to truly relax.

With everything that’s going on, Bucky deserves more. You deserve more, but that can all wait until tomorrow.

Tomorrow. That’s a good thought.

#bartender!bucky x reader #bucky x reader #sebastian stan #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bartender!bucky x peanut!reader #bucky x peanut #consequences #ray's writing #bartender!bucky barnes x peanut!reader #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes au #bartender!bucky #bartender!bucky barnes x you #bartender!bucky barnes x y/n #bartender!bucky x you

[ahrahrahraha]

Smut

IceCream and Bad Tv by @bloodorangesoup

Peanut Butter Passion by @sagechanoafterdark

Stay Quiet For Me by @mrsbarnesblog

Lets Hear It For Captain America by @trashmenofmarvel

Take The Edge Off by @bitsandbobsandstuff

Black Lace And Property Damage by @bitsandbobsandstuff

Memories and Music by @bitsandbobsandstuff

Another Kinky Wager by @bitsandbobsandstuff

Star Spangled Brushwork by @bitsandbobsandstuff

Brooklyn and Moscow by @wkemeup

Sleeping With A Friend by @wkemeup

Locked by @thenhewaswrongaboutme

Eye Contact by @thenhewaswrongaboutme

Gentle by @softlyspector

Two Pages by @softlyspector

Soft by @softlyspector

Rain by @softlyspector

Tangier & Redux by @softlyspector

Medicine by @gogolucky13

Sexual Healing by @gogolucky13

What We Are by @gogolucky13

Come Closer by @sagechanoafterdark

Virtue and Vice by @divine-mistake

It's Messy Inside, Let Me Take Your Coat by @divine-mistake

Even at Gunpoint, I'd Still Love You by @divine-mistake

Bitter Fruit by @divine-mistake

"The mission was already a success!" you say and you can feel tears burning the back of your eyes. You will yourself to blink them back. "You had the files, the base was set to detonate, I don't understand why you didn't just stay on the fucking jet" "Because you were going to die"

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/(F)Reader

Greedy by @babyboibucky

"Bucky wants to try something new with you. Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader"

Birthday Tiara by @babyboibucky

"You weren’t enjoying your birthday until Bucky comes along. Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader"

Rum & Coke by @babyboibucky

"You decide to pay your rival club a visit to see what the hype is all about. Pairing: Bartender!Bucky x Fem!Reader"

Like This by @babyboibucky

"Bucky shows you how he wants it done. Pairing: Bucky x Fem!Reader"

Like That by @babyboibucky

"Bucky finally engages in his favorite activity. Pairing: Bucky x Fem!Reader

All That Glitters by @moonbeambucky

"Natasha found a sneaky way to get you to reveal your secret relationship"

Updated 31/10/2023

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky fanfic #bucky x you #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #smut #bucky smut

[awesomerextyphoon]

Cozy by the Fire

Summary: You and your winter loves enjoy a nice evening by the fire.

Pairing: Stucky x Plus-Sized Female Reader

Rating: 18+ / Mature

Word Count: 2.2K

Warnings: Kissing, Implied Smut, People Being Assholes

A/N: This is a request from @saiyanprincessswanie​. We’re pulling for you, girl! Dividers are by the lovely @firefly-graphics​.

Masterlist

“How do I look?” you asked twirling around in a Butterscotch sweater dress with a thick black dress belt. It was your boys’ favorite and you wanted to treat them to something special.

“Amazing!”

“You’re just saying that, Wanda.” Wanda telekinetically placed the last of the food on the table.

Somehow, you were able to convince Wanda to help you bake enough Butter Toffee Chunk, Glazed Lemon Ricotta Cookies, Black and White Spiral, and Peanut Chocolate Chunk Cookies to celebrate the Holidays since no one had the time (no one wants to go to the shed). You even spiked their hot chocolate with a few drops of Asgardian Mead (they love the kick).

“I’m not! You look amazing and those boys are damn lucky! Nat would totally agree.”

“Alright, alright,” you acquiesced, “Thank you so much, Wanda.”

“No problem,” Wanda waved the compliment, “They’re closing in, so I’ll leave you to it.”

“Thanks again!”

Wanda barely levitated out of your quarters before you heard their powerful footsteps.

“Ugh, fuck doll, is this for us?” Bucky exclaimed as he eyed the table.

“Of course!” you replied as you pulled him in for a kiss.

“You didn’t have to, sweetheart.” Steve pouted interrupting your passionate kiss with Bucky.

“Well, you said you missed having cookies by the fire during the holidays and I wanted to surprise you.”

“All of this for us, huh?” Steve asked incredulously eyeing the medley of luxurious Honey-Tenderized Boeuf Bourguignon, Creamy Mashed Potatoes, Spicy Honey Fried Chicken, Hearty Lasagne, Texas BBQ Brisket, Baked Ziti, and BBQ Ribs.

“I thought you would be hungry.” you reasoned smirking at their growling stomachs.

“Looks like you were correct.” Bucky conceded eyeing the lasagne.

“So, Wanda?” Steve inquired grinning at you lowering your head in embarrassment.

“Yes, but she used my recipes,” you huffed, “C’mon let’s eat before it gets cold!�� you exclaimed skipping (yes, you read that right) towards the food.

“What did we do to get blessed with an angel like her?” Bucky wondered wrapping Steve in a side hug.

“I don’t know, Buck. I don’t know.” Steve cooed into Bucky before kissing him.

  It all started with probably one of the worst jokes by some of your former classmates. Honestly, you should’ve seen it coming.

Natalie, your former college dorm mate, told you that Jacques Becker, your college crush and total babe, was interested in you. Anwen, your best friend, said to get over it, but you couldn’t quit the fantasy.

You put on your best clothes, actually putting makeup only to have him text you saying that he would be a few minutes late. It was okay for the first twenty minutes, you chalked up to bad weather. Then twenty became fifty, eighty, and so on.

After two hours, the bartender passed you a shot of bourbon on the house. Your eyes started to well up with tears.

He stood you up.

To make matters worse, it was pouring outside and you forgot your umbrella. You made it about 10 yds (9.144m) before you tripped on an uneven sidewalk.

A flash of light went off, but you ignored thinking it was a car.

  To your absolute horror, Jacques posted the whole thing as a prank on Instagram. You could barely make eye contact at your place of work.

As if you needed another reason for everyone to hate you. You already felt out of place with everyone looking down at you for your apparent ‘lack of talent’ and ‘slovenly aura’ (?).

Patricia, your ‘hot’ co-worker, smirked at you while sharing the video with the whole floor knowing full well you wouldn’t do anything. Both your supervisor and the head of HR were always on her side and she knew this job was the best you were gonna get in this economy.

You went home in tears that day. Luckily, Anwen and Caterina came over for emotional support.

  It wasn’t until you decided to leave the house for a junk food run to Trader Joe’s did your luck change. You were in the mood for Sweet Plantain Chips and Scandinavian Swimmers and seriously need the pick-me-up. You were three blocks away when you bumped into someone.

Apologizing profusely, you raised your head to find the person was Wanda Maximoff, one of the Avengers. She was also having a shitty day if the puffy red eyes and tear streaks were any indications.

You handed her a tissue and recommended a bakery a few blocks away. You told her to mention your name and they’ll give her some free sweets.

You had worked there a few years back and created half the menu, so it was no big deal.

She thanked you for your kindness and discretion and went on her way.

You felt a little better making someone else smile.

  Unlike most people, you were satisfied with making an Avenger smile, which is why you stopped dead in your tracks while you were in the recommended cafe three months later.

Wanda, the Scarlet Witch, barged into the cafe with Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes in tow. She insisted they try the cinnamon rolls.

The crowd parted in semi-reverence; some people took out their phones, someone even bowed (why?). Imani, the barista and an old acquaintance, almost dropped an espresso order at the sight of them.

You couldn’t blame her. They were the two of the most beautiful men on the planet towering over everyone in the bakery.

Wanda was about to leave when she spotted you in the corner booth. You wanted the ground to swallow you up you were so anxious. You didn’t need another reminder of how inadequate you are.

No one will ever desire a fat loser with no talent despite what your friends and sisters say.

So it came as a surprise that the two Adonises waved and strode towards you. Steve asked if you were the one who came up with the Butter Toffee Chocolate Chunk recipe.

You almost cursed yourself for your brain short-circuiting when Linda, the manager, finally got out of the restroom to proudly confirm that you came up with half of the menu. She even offered a tray of some of your creations.

Bucky grinned and said that the whole compound raved at goodies Wanda would bring during missions.

You peeped a thank you for the praise not wanting to draw any more attention to yourself.

Both of the devilishly handsome men chuckled and hoped they would see you again.

You smiled knowing that’ll never happen though you didn’t fail to feel the sorrow carve itself into your heart.

  Your sorrow was short-lived.

Somehow one of them slipped a piece of paper with Steve’s number on it.

You stared at it for what felt like hours thinking that if you blinked it would disappear.

You didn’t tell anyone, not even Anwen or Caterina.

You didn’t know if it was another prank; if it would end up like last time. But maybe, just maybe, they were being sincere.

With a huff of newfound confidence, you said fuck it and dialed the number.

  You were glad you did.

Being with Steve and Bucky has been nothing but a wonderful dream. They were incredibly attentive and loving, always giving you words of encouragement, leaving little gifts around your apartment, and not laughing at your dreams.

Especially after the ‘scandal’.

It seems that the fact that either Captain America or the reformed Winter Soldier wanting anything to do with a ‘fat slob who promotes an unhealthy lifestyle’ is baffling to the masses.

The tabloids and internet were strewn with horrible pictures of you from high school and college. The ‘prank video’ resurfaced to your ever-mounting shame. No matter where you went, you couldn’t escape the jeers, especially at work.

The final straw was when Patricia snatched your lunch and threw it in the trash and declaring that you didn’t need to eat such ‘fattening junk’ since you were already ‘ ‘such a blimp’. The worst part was that no one came to your defense. Some even sneered; whether it was envy or disgust, it still devastating.

You didn’t leave your room for three days.

Nat rushed your sisters and friends to your apartment for an impromptu ‘girls night’. Nat and Tony made sure to have a ‘chat’ with the leaker, and your WW2 hero lovers made sure you felt extra loved when they returned from their mission.

So much so that you didn’t leave their quarters for a week.

You gave as much as you got which was hard, but you tried your best. You made baked goods for when they returned from missions. You comforted Bucky whenever he had a nightmare along with Steve, and you cheered Steve up whenever he felt remorse about the time he’s lost.

  “Fuck, that was amazing, angel.” Bucky sighed patting his satiated tummy.

They devoured the food because of course, your super soldiers would have black holes for stomachs.

“I’m glad you liked it.”

“How did your interview go, sweetheart?” Steve inquired masking a burp with his fist.

“Well,” you stood and grabbed a piece of paper, “I got the job!!!” You squealed. You vowed to get a new job after the scandal deciding that you’ve had enough of your toxic workplace. So you decided to go after your dream job, a creative technologist at the Metropolitan Museum of Art.

Your father had dissuaded you from doing it earlier saying it was a ‘fanciful occupation’.

You wanted to get on your own despite both Tony’s and your lovers’ protests, not wanting the tabloids to have yet another reason to attack you. It took some time, but you got an interview after tacking down a lead through Linda’s friend’s cousin.

And after three months of lying in wait, you got the offer.

“Congratulations, doll!!” Steve resounded as he lifted you and twirled you around their quarter’s living room.

“We’re so proud of you!” Bucky exulted as he tossed you into the air.

“Bucky, please, no more!” you giggled. Tears streaming down your face from all the laughing.

Bucky acquiesced to your cries and set you down on an ottoman. Both super soldiers gave each other a sideways glance and grinned.

“What’s going on?” you asked, a bit put off by their sudden silence.

“Close your eyes, sweetheart.” Steve requested.

“Okay…”

“Stop laughing! We’re serious!”

“All right, fine!” you chuckled as you closed your eyes wondering what shenanigans they would pull.

You soon felt a weight on your chest and ears as both your Brooklyn boys kissed the juncture between your jaw and neck.

“Okay, open your eyes, angel.”

“Oh...why...why’d you do this?” you gasped at what was before you. Both of them were holding a mirror showing you wearing a Winter Princess Snowflake Pendant and a set of Sparkling Diamond Tassel Earrings.

It was the nicest thing anyone’s ever gotten you.

“We wanted this to be your Christmas present, but we thought it would be best for this occasion,” Bucky explained.

“Don’t worry. We’re--what’s wrong sweetheart?” Steve queried noting the tears welling up in your eyes hoping they weren’t being too forward.

“It’s just...thank you for being so wonderful!!” you peeped, unable to hold in your happiness anymore.

“We just want to take care of you, sweetheart. You’ve been so good to us.” Steve purred into your skin as he made a line of kisses from your cheek to your collarbone between each word.

“You’ve comforted us whenever we had a nightmare, left us affirmation notes, always making us feel loved and wanted. It means the world to us!” Bucky hummed as he leaned in for a soulful kiss.

And they meant it. So many women threw themselves at their feet, undeterred by the polite rejections. It got to the point that Tony had to screen the reporters after an undercover groupie tried to rush them.

You on the other hand actually cared about them, not the titles or the fame. You made them feel seen and they could never repay you.

“Thank you, doll. You’re our angel and there are no words that can describe how much you mean to us.” Steve declared.

  The rest of the evening was filled with your boys recounting tales from their childhoods, both of them taking turns being embarrassed.

Wanda had to rescue Sam a few times from being pummeled by Bucky for the crime of swiping some cookies from his pile even after you chastised him, but you couldn’t stay mad at him for long with those puppy dog eyes.

Both you, Wanda, and Nat pelted Tony for being obnoxiously off-key with his caroling.

All in all, it was a fun night.

  “Goodnight, Bucky, Steve,” you whispered laying between them by the fireplace under a luxuriously soft throw rug.

“Goodnight, angel.”

“I know he took my cookies.”Bucky started.

“Give it a rest, Bucky!” you hissed softly not wanting to have today be upended by Bucky’s pouting.

“Had to have been at least a dozen-”

“We made enough cookies to satisfy 50 people!”

“I’ll get him tomorrow.”

“No, you won’t. Because if you do, I’ll tell Tony what happened to his second favorite watch.”

“...Fine.”

“Good.” you ended smiling to yourself for never feeling so complete as this moment.

#stucky x reader #steve rogers x reader #bucky x reader #stucky x plus size reader #steve rogers x plus size reader #bucky barnes x plus size reader #mcu #mcu fluff #stucky fluff #angst #holiday fic #cosy by the fire #steve rogers fluff #bucky barnes fluff #holiday fluff #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfiction

[extremelyblackandwhite]

willow

pairing: mob!bucky barnes x reader

warnings: violence, harassing

a/n: part two of cardigan, hope you enjoy xx

CARDIGAN - INVISIBLE STRING

     - I’m not going to work wearing this. - Y/N stepped out of her bedroom in the dress Pietro had brought her. When he told her he had a black dress laying around she thought he meant maybe the sort of dress you’d wear for a first date, not what she had on at this moment. The dress was short, very short, barely hitting her mid thigh in a fashion that made her have to push her dress down every time she walked in fear she would be flashing someone yet that wasn’t the worse part, no, the worse par was the décolletage. It was plunging, hitting the end of her sternum leaving little to no imagination about the shape and size of her breasts. 

     - Well hello Y/N’s breasts. - he joked, receiving a slap in the back of his head from his twin sister. - I’m sorry, Y/N. They’re staring at me, I had to say something. 

    -  What kind of dates are you having? - Wanda asked dumbfounded as she started to search for a safety pin to help mend the situation and make it look a bit more work appropriate. Walking up to her, she pinned two sections of the fabric, successfully diminishing the size of the décolletage.  - It looks ... nice.

    - Is he going to kill me if I show up like this to work? - she pointed at the whole ensemble which was very foreign to her. She was cold and uncomfortable and although the bar tended itself to be very warm once the lights were on, she was already plenty uncomfortable working there. The two twins shared a look that she could only described as “I have no idea” which did little to no good in aiding her nerves. With nothing else to do, she grabbed her worn out bag from the hanger and waved her goodbyes to the twins. Surely it couldn’t be that bad. 

It’s just a dress, Y/N. She told herself as she padded the cobblestone grounds that led into the town centre, the dreaded town centre where she was needed to work. At least you have some cute shoes, she reassured herself, looking at her plain black Mary Janes with a buckle which made the shoe extra snug. Adding to the nerves of her dress, she kept convincing herself today she would get some information for her father, even if it was Bucky’s shoe size. It didn’t matter, she was going to get some information and make her father proud.

As she stepped into the bar, she noted the absence of Bobby. Probably it was her due turn to open shop which she wouldn’t mind would it not be for the fact she could barely move in that dress. Nevertheless, she quickly got to work, wiping the surfaces clean and placing the plastic menus on them followed by a few bowls of peanuts which Bobby always told her to keep her eyes on and not let go empty. The whole thing took less than five minutes and as she finished, she leaned against the counter watching the inside of the building. Everything was so meticulously placed, arranged in shades that matched. It was perfectly linear, symmetrical even and probably the work of a perfectionist architecture. It was peaceful when no one was around but that emptiness was soon interrupted by the door being open and in stepped the notorious Mr. Barnes.

Y/N pushed her dress straight, trying not to look professional and somewhat invisible so that he wouldn’t stare her in the eye. That tactic immediately failed as once the door shut behind him and his pristine suit, his head turned to the bar. 

    - What are you doing behind the bar? - his hands stood against his hips, touching the holster where a very shiny revolver laid, a warning sign not to mess with him.

   - I’m opening. 

   - You’re waitressing today. 

   - I’m not a waitress. - he slightly widened his eyes, taking a step forward, grin on his face. He leaned against the counter, finger under his chin. 

   - You are today. 

   - I don’t know how to wait on people. 

   - You don’t know how to bartend them either now step behind that bar and go grab a tray. - he barked the orders at her but Y/N remained still. No, absolutely not, she was not going to wait around in the tightest, shortest dress created by man.

   - I would rather ... I would rather not, sir. - she pulled at the front of her dress, eyes moving from his inspecting and scaring gaze. 

   - I didn’t ask you what you would rather. You have five seconds.

Y/N didn’t like being scolded by anyone, specially by a man like him but the shiny revolver on his hip made her act more sensibly and as such she shyly stepped behind the bar, stopping a few meters away from him. His gaze followed her legs, from her hips to her toes and he himself took a step back. 

   - You could’ve told me you didn’t have a dress. 

   - I have a dress. - she put her hands on her waist, defensively. - What do you think I am wearing?

   - I was hoping you would tell me. 

   - Can I just bartend today, Mr. Barnes? Please.

   - Absolutely not. 

She wanted to argue with him, she really did, she thought she could change his mind but yet again she wasn’t stupid enough to argue with him and as such, she walked slowly to the back of the bar to grab one of the sticky metal trays. Fantastic, she went from having a counter separating her from everyone to suddenly being in the middle of them. The lights were on, the music was loud and suddenly every table was putting their hands up for her to come take their orders. 

Now Y/N had done several things she wasn’t a fan of and seen even more than stomach churning evidence from her time at university but walking back and forward in the damned was officially the worse thing to have come out of her early 20s and as she leaned against the bar to cool off and take a break, someone was yelling her name for more drinks. She had officially become “Hey you” rather than Y/N. Mid shift she had decided to start hiding away from most tables, getting lost in the middle of the crowd dancing which was proving to be effective until the table she could not ignore raised their hands. James Barnes’ table. Why he was in a table surrounded by other men when he usually stood safely in his back office she didn’t know but what she did know was that whatever they were talking about was surely something her father would like to know. So, with a smile in her very tired face, she made her way towards the table. 

James Barnes sat with two other men who were equally as intimidating than he was yet there was no question as to who held the most power. Holding the tray on her left hand she waited to be shouted the orders through the music. 

   - Hey, you’re new! - the blonde man sat to James’ left pointed at her, smile on his face which immediately dissolved whatever sort of intimidating nature used to decorate his features. - I didn’t know we had a new waitress. 

   - We don’t. - James corrected, not even turning to look at her. - Y/N is on the floor tonight to cover for someone. She’s usually a lousy bartender. 

   - Can I get a beer? The coldest one you can find, please. - the other man sat next to James asked, charming smile on. - Steve will have the same. James ...

   - Glenlivet, I know. - Y/N interjected, forgetting for a second of who she was dealing with. As she remembered, she immediately walked away from the table to go grab the orders before they took her hostage. 

   - Two cold beers and a Glenlivet on the rocks please Bobby. 

   - The floor’s giving you a rough time, kid? - he placed two beers on her tray and turned around to grab the precious 1862 Glenlivet only Mr. Barnes was allowed to drink for. In Y/N’s opinion, it was a weird drink older than both her and him together yet she guessed owning old scotch made him somehow powerful. 

   - Dress’ giving me a rough time. - she gave him an exasperated smile before taking her tray back to the table, placing it into the centre. James still didn’t meet her eye, instead grabbing the coloured liquid and downing it as if it was water in a manner which even surprised the two men accompanying him. - Can I get you anything else? 

  - No, thank you. - Steve, or at least she guessed was his name, replied handing her a folded black leathered cover. Y/N took it, not ready to make any questions before returning to the bar. Once there, she opened the cover to reveal at least 300 pounds. Did they want more drinks? Did she mishear the song again as a drink order?

  - Nice tip, kid. - Bobby peaked at the money she was holding. - Rogers and Wilson always tip well.

  - This is a tip? I get to keep this? - she looked dumfounded at the money on her hand which was enough to pay her half the rent and she had just made in less than a minute.

  - All waitresses get to keep their tips. Did you not know?

  - No, I thought people wanted more drinks.

  - You’re adorable, kid. If you don’t tip your waitress here, you get kicked out. Barnes doesn’t like cheapskates in his club, ruins the image. 

  - Oh ... I ... can you keep it while I finish my job?

  - Just put it with your things.

She placed the money safely with her bag and returned to the dance floor. Surely they were gonna ask her for something, no one just gave 300 pounds as if it were nothing and didn’t expect something. Nothing is free in life, her father had told her and she whole heartily believed him yet there were 300 pounds more to her name in less than one minute so she wondered if maybe some things were for free. Nevertheless, Y/N continued with her shift plan by hiding in the middle on the dance floor and every so often peaking out to serve some tables. As she exited the dance floor, someone pulled her in and she hit what she thought was someone’s chest, hands holding her hip in place.

   - Get off me. - she tried to walk forward, but she was pulled back once more. Turning around she grabbed her tray with both hands and hit whoever was holding her and trying to grind on her over the head. The man blinked slowly, hand resting on his head and she repeated her motions. - I said take your hand off me, RIGHT NOW!

  - Hey, what’s wrong here? - of course. The man must have hidden mics arounds the dance floor so he can sense when someone isn’t adhering to their strict patterns of conduct. 

  - He was grinding on me. - Y/N kicked her way fully of the man’s embrace. She thought it’d be best to put her defence forward first before she got to be the second person to have their head smashed against the counter. 

   - I don’t have the time for this. Steve, get him off here. - he motioned to the blonde who came up from behind. She hanged onto her tray as if it were her life source, expecting whatever punishment was coming her way. - And you go back to the bar and stay there. 

Y/N wanted to feel sorry for the poor soul who was being pulled out of the club for Steve yet all she could feel was grateful for the fact she no longer had to stay on the floor. The rest of the night was uneventful, all she could hear them talk about was some exchange yet nothing else of importance to her, or something which would create a breakthrough in the case. Soon the monotonous voice came through the speakers, warning people of the imminent end of the night. 

Everyday was the same thing. She would go into the club, collect whatever breadcrumb information she could get from her father and return them to the police. Everyday she would come in, prepare the same drinks, ignore the same comments and for a month all she could get was nothing but the fact that Barnes, Wilson and Rogers constantly spoke about a trade taking place later on the year which as good as nothing but it was something strong enough to keep her undercover. Today was no different, she had come in a few hours early, it was only a mid shift and she wanted to set things the way she liked when Mr. Barnes came stumbling into the bar, holding his hand against his forehead, red liquid running down his pale hand. 

  - Where the fuck is Bobby? - he barked, pulling a chair with his foot to sit down. 

  - He’s on holiday. - she spoke calmly but her heart was beating against her ribcage like a drum as her shaking hands grabbed the first aid kit from under the bar and rushed over to him. Whoever had the guts to cause a wound to the mob boss would surely be okay with following him in and that was all she could think about. Nevertheless, she was a nurse in training, she should be calm. She wasn’t calm. - Can I see?

  - Don’t you have something to do?

  - Let me help, please. - her touch was soft, softer than any touch he’d ever felt as her hand laid upon his, slightly yet effortlessly pushing his hand away from the gash close to his hairline. Her lips tightened as her finger pushed some of the hair away from the wound, it wasn’t bad. It was deep but not deep enough it would require any immediate stitching, some cleaning and maybe butterfly band-aids and he’d be able to go back to intimidating people. - I’m going to clean it and then I’ll bandage the wound. It might sting, please don’t shoot me if it does.

  - Is that what you think I do? - he furrowed his eyebrow, forgetting about the wound just above it as she rummaged through their first aid kit for something that would suffice in disinfecting his wound as she was sure health, safety and cleaning procedures weren’t something a mobster would consider when picking their weapon of choice. - You think I shot people just because they hurt me?

  - That’s what I’ve heard. - she shrugged it off as if they were having a casual conversation, as if he had asked her if she enjoyed the weather. She heard rumours, several of them coming from Wanda, Pietro and other people she surrounded herself with and while she would’ve discredited them in any other situation, she had her father’s confirmation that one does not mess with James Barnes and comes back whole. - Big bad mob boss … it’s what they show in mobster books and movies.

  - Trust me petal, if I hurt someone they’ve had it coming. - he leaned upon his own shoulder inspecting her. - Besides, I don’t do the dirty work.

  - Enlighten me, then. - she loosened up. Make the patient comfortable was always rule number one as her lecturers and superiors would tell her and although the man in front of her was the furthest thing from someone who’d become comfortable with someone, what she was doing would eventually sting and she’d rather have him happy than upset. James grabbed the salt and pepper sets laying on top of the table, pulling the salt to lay in front of every other container.

  - In your regular mob you have an hierarchy. - he moved the salt and pepper around in almost chess-like manner. - You have your boss, your underboss, capo, consigliere and soldiers. Soldiers do the dirty work, they do the shooting.

  - What do you do then? - she cocked an eyebrow at him, drenching the cotton round in the alcohol filled liquid which always made her feel slightly sick.

  - I’m the boss, petal. Your question should be what the other’s do.

  - Okay, I bite. - she got closer to him, hand resting on the side of his face as she started to dab the dried and wet blood away from his wound.  - What do the others do?

  - The underboss is … I guess what you could call a vice-president. They make decisions but ultimately answer to me, not that Steve listens to me anyway. Your consigliere is impartial, he comes in whenever you need an impartial decision either between capos or families. Your capos are the heads of their own families and have their sort of hierarchy, they are the lieutenants and can be or not be related to the boss and finally you got your soldiers, they do the dirty work. Although, I must say that sometimes I do enjoy applying the punishment.

  - So Steve’s your underboss… - she continued to clean the wound, waiting for the moment he would hiss and throw her away but he remained still, comfortable even. - Is Sam one of your soldiers?

  - Sam’s a consigliere and a damned good one although he is a pain. - she went back to her sit, putting the cotton round in the bin and grabbing some bandaids. - But I know about it, why don’t you tell me about you?

  - Bobby said you run a background check on everyone. I don’t think I would be much surprising. - much of her profile was real yes, but most important details have been altered so he wouldn’t suspect her or wonder why the Capitan’s daughter was applying for a position in his bar.

  - What do you fear most in life?

  - Why would you ask me that?

  - If you know people’s fears, you’re normally in control of them. Fear controls everyone, if you control their fears, you control them.

  - Do you wanna control me, Mr. Barnes? Is that it? - she had a little smile gracing her features as she bandaged both sides of the wound together.

James wondered what she was smiling about. People like to believe they’re uncontrollable or if they’re controllable that only themselves hold that people yet Y/N just seemed to mindlessly agree with that control, something which her actions forcibly went against. Nevertheless, she still had this peaceful smile on as she finished patching him up. 

   - You’re all ready. 

   - Thanks. - his voice rumbled in a tone low enough it could be considered both menacing and thankful at the same time. Nevertheless, this was probably the first time she had heard him say thanks to anyone. - What are you doing here anyway? Phoenix covers over Bobby’s shifts when he’s on holiday and you don’t start in five hours at least.

    - Oh ... my flatmate is going on a date with this guy and she wants to bring him home so I have to finish early to check into the motel near campus. They said they only check in people until midnight. I asked Phoenix and he said it was okay.

   - What motel near campus? The Love Locket?

   - Yes, it’s close to university and I have class at 8AM so I can’t go anywhere further. 

   - That’s where you take your prostitute or mistress not where you spend a night.

    - Thank you for the warning, I guess? - she shrugged. Of course she knew that, she would even hear some of the younger students bolster about how they brought their one night stands there but if it made Wanda happy, Y/N would sleep on the street if necessary.

   - You’re not staying at the Love Locket, Y/N. You’ll get robbed or kidnapped.

   - I don’t have anything precious or valuable enough to get stolen and if someone kidnapped me they would soon get bored of me. I’ve been called the human equivalent of vanilla ice cream before. 

   - You’re not staying there, that’s final. I’m not in the mood to hire another lousy bartender if you go missing.

   - Where do you suggest I stay then? - she packed the supplies onto the small blue box, walking up to behind bar to put it back. 

  - Don’t you have any other friends?

  - Her twin brother is keen on having company every night too and I wouldn’t want to be asked to join it or even listen to it.

  - You can stay with me tonight. Next time have arrangements done.

  - I’m not staying with you.

She didn’t mean for it to sound ungrateful, she would never want to be ungrateful but she also knew not to go into the house of strangers although her father would probably tell her too. How funny, normally a father would do the opposite but being in the mob boss’ house had their own perks. Surely he would keep some sort of valuables, information maybe contact numbers of bottom feeders who’d be willing to collaborate for a chance to put their boss behind bars and gain his spot. Anything. Yet Y/N’s most forceful and convincing side was telling her no. It wasn’t she was particular untrusting of him, after all he had been nothing but civil with her for the past days and would always drive her home. She guessed if he wanted to kill her, he would’ve done it already but every single day her heart weighed heavy with the thought of him discovering her lie and putting an end to her life.

  - I might not know what you fear the most, but I do know what you fear. 

He strolled from the table to the counter, hands buried in the pockets of his tailored trousers. Y/N looked at him through her eyelashes, hands behind her own back as he took the revolver off his holster and placed it on the counter.

  - You are really afraid I’m going to kill you. Aren’t you, petal?

  - It’s not an absurd fear, Mr. Barnes. 

  - Have you ever seen me kill someone?

  - No.

  - Have I ever threatened you?

  - No.

  - Have I put you in danger?

  - No.

  - Then it is an absurd fear, petal. - he slide his gun off the counter, returning it to its usual place near his hip. - Come find me after you’re done with your shift. Don’t cause any trouble.

  - Yes, Mr. Barnes. - she had soon learned there was no use in saying no to him. He got his way all the time, he was used to getting his way so she wondered why she even contested him. 

The shift was the same as per usual yet all she could think about what spending the night at a mob boss’ house. She had messaged her father during her break and he was ecstatic, telling her to take photos and videos and collect whatever she could find of use. In all honesty, Y/N had expected him to tell her to be safe but instead it was just a lead. She was scared, she was so scared that all of this was a veil of comfort he was casting over her to make sure she was a dumb little sheep walking into his trap. She begged for the clock to turn back as it hit 11PM and Phoenix told her it was okay to go. 

She held her purse against her chest, pulling onto the leather strap as she moved through the dance floor and into the VIP area where Mr. Barnes was chatting with Steve who smiled once he saw her.

  - Hey Y/N. Waiting on us tonight?

  - No ... I’m just here for Mr. Barnes. - she played with the hem of her bag, cheeks hot as she thought of the implications her word might have.

  - Is your shift over already? - he placed his half empty glass on the table and got up, hand holding his jacket. She nodded hesitantly, she was going to be fine, she was going to be fine. - Alright, then.

  - Well, it was nice to see you, Y/N. We’ll speak about this later, Buck. 

  - Let’s go. - he put his hand on her back, driving her through the sea of people kissing, dancing and drinking. He wondered if that what she liked to do on her free time, if she was like the girls who came up here on the weekends and Fridays looking for a good time yet she seemed to shut everything out. 

As they got deeper into the back of the club, she felt him drape something soft and warm over her. Looking to her left she recognised the fabric of her old cardigan, the one she had left in the same car she was now entering. The driver was mostly silent, Y/N mostly looking for the comfort given to her by the old garment while he kept his wild eyes on the road. 

The drive was a short one, stopping at a high building of thirteen floors if the elevator was to be believed. Despite being surrounded by luxury, her eyes were gazing the gun to his hip. She knew he had other weapons, she knew he kept a knife hidden and other guns with him but this one seemed to taunt her, as if she knew she was walking into her own trap.

    - Stop. - he hooked his finger under her chin, pushing her face upwards. - I don’t stain my home with blood. 

    - I’m sorry.

    - Stop that too. 

    - Stop what?

    - Apologising. You walk as if you’re apologising to the world for your existence. No one’s gonna take you seriously if you don’t take yourself seriously. 

    - It’s funny a man is asking me to stop apologising when it’s your own institution who taught me and my gender to apologise for merely existing. 

    - You have an edge to you. You should use more often. 

    - I don’t have an edge, I’m definitely not the type of person you think I am.

    - You’re definitely the type of person I think you are, petal. - he strutted into his home as the lift door’s open.

It was wide, spacious, modern, in shades of white and grey. Nothing like the stuffy, old rooms she saw in movies or the drug den picture he father painted when speaking about the mob’s place of living. No, this was a modern design, with glass hardware and marbled surfaces which belonged in a cover of a design magazine. It was pristinely clean; after all, a man of his calibre could possibly hire a maid for whenever he needed to get rid of blood but blood stains and his white carpets and blankets were spotless. She wondered if she should trust his words but that thought escaped her mind as she noticed the glass set of chess laying perfectly arranged on the coffee table in the middle of two black couches. 

   - You play? - he asked, noticing her gaze on the board. 

   - My dad only had a chess board while I was growing up. I’d like to think it was my first friend. 

   - None of my associates play. Probably the reason why they’re associates and not the boss. - he sat in one of the couches, pointing at the other one for her to sit in. 

   - Do you chose a boss by their ability at playing chess?

   - Play with me. - he placed both elbows on the table, hands folded under his chin. 

James Barnes was a brilliant player, she had to admit and he too knew it himself. The previous boss had taught him the game, sitting him down and making him win a match against him for the chance to eventually win his spot whenever his demise came.

   - You see petal, everyone thinks chess is about planning ahead. - he took another one of her white pieces, putting it on his side. - I don’t discount that, but it’s really about intimidation. You can be the best player in the world, at the end of the day if you can’t intimidate someone, you’re not gonna win.

   - Do you think I’m intimidating?

   - Why do you ask?

   - Because ... - she moved her king placing it to the right and down of her white queen, successfully trapping the black king. - Checkmate

I'm begging for you to take my hand, wreck my plans ...

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Afterglow (A Bucky Barnes AU fan fiction) - Chapter 9

Afterglow chapters

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

CHAPTER NINE

For the first time in your life, you awoke in your own pool of sweat and with the fresh thoughts of Bucky as he managed to scoop you up with his strong lean arms and take you right then and there at the kitchen counter in your wild, vivid memory of dreams.

You blamed Nat for this. If it wasn't for her, you wouldn't even have inappropriate thoughts towards Bucky. Yes, you did notice his strong masculine exterior, jaw sharp as a killer's knife, body as strong as a boulder, and legs that could easily kill but did you have any thoughts on advancing towards him? No, absolutely not. He was Peter's stepbrother for crying out loud. But last night, something changed in the laws of physics. It was as if two resting bodies silently reacted to one another without a sudden force acting upon the two.

That morning, you didn't dare find out if Bucky was still in your apartment. You skipped your morning run and headed up towards the rooftop using the ladder right outside your window with a hot cup of coffee in your hand (which spilled a bit on the way up, by the way) and enjoyed the scent and sight of the dirtier part of New York City -- all its damp, cigarette covered pavements.

For the next few days, you saw no sign of Bucky. He hadn't been in the bar or in your apartment, as much as you wished he would stop by once in a while. But then, you would hear Peter talk to him on the phone every single night.

You never thought Bucky's lack of presence would start to bother you. It wasn't just the feelings of sudden desire you had for him but also the weird time you shared together -- as if you were just old friends catching up. You found it absolutely crazy how a lot of things just happened in the course of a day.

You wanted to ask Peter about Bucky's whereabouts, just a casual slip of "Hey, where's Bucky?" but you never dared to ask. So when Peter blabbed during a movie night that Bucky had been way too busy managing some business meetings, gatherings, and whatnots ever since he got back in the city, you were more than glad.

Nat had been coming to the bar every night ever since Tuesday, picking up extra shifts. She kept badgering you about Bucky this and Bucky that. She was one of the reasons why you couldn't keep Bucky out of your head. Her sudden long shifts at the bar wasn't only because she was so invested with your nonexistent dating life or, to her, a possibility of one with Bucky, but because she and Steve were secretly hooking up. Of course, she didn't tell you that. It's not like she needed to, anyway. It only took one sniff of Steve's strong scent on hers for you to find out.

Every passing day at the bar felt so slow and the same. The only thing that changed was Peter rejecting a drink on one Thursday night.

"Woah, what got your knickers on a twist?" You asked as soon as he approached the counter.

"I'm just not in the mood, y/n." He sighed. "Can I just have a glass of water, please?"

"Of course. Coming right up." You slid the glass of water on the counter towards him, your fingers drumming against the thick wood. "So, what's bothering you?"

He looked up at you with sulky eyes. "Oh god, you really are a bartender."

"And your best friend. So, what's up?"

He shook his head nothing, sipping the glass of water like a scotch.

His little act was unconvincing. Especially that he didn't try hard enough to conceal whatever he was feeling.

"Parker." You insisted. "Come on, what's up?"

"You see right through me, y/n."

"Don't flatter me too much," you rolled your eyes, "you're just easy to read."

But Peter was also stubborn as a bull. He wouldn't budge or give you any clue on what was bothering him. You thought that leaving him as you tended to other bargoers would eventually give him time to change his mind but you were proven wrong. It itched your brain that he wouldn't tell you whatever it was. You usually told each other everything. But then again, you haven't really been open with him with your growing desire for his stepbrother -- which, you hoped you never would, as you hoped all those feelings would eventually go away and keep it in a state of latency.

Peter stood by his ground, consuming no ounce of alcohol and keeping his mouth shut the rest of the night. You knew when to keep away from other people's business, even if it was your best friend's. You did try to make his evening lighter though, checking up on him and telling some old, classic bartender stories, seeing as he was clearly in an uncomfortable state but all he kept telling you was: "You're killing me, y/n. You're absolutely killing me."

You felt a heavy feeling on your chest with his surprisingly fierce tone. You urged him to go home after that, so he did.

"Dick." You mumbled after he left.

Nick walked towards the counter. "What's wrong with your roommate?"

"Wish I could tell you."

You and Nick have been getting along well despite you rejecting him. Nat kept telling you it was a way of manipulating you or some sort, to get you close to him but nothing has really happened ever since he asked you out. There wasn't a change in mood in the atmosphere, or even the way he treated you. Just some good colleagues working together.

The next night, Peter was more in the mood and even apologized to you for the way he behaved last night. "Now, for some great news."

"Does this mean you're having a drink?" You asked.

He nodded eagerly and patiently waited for his beer. Once he got his cold sip, he continued talking: "So, I've been really in a slump lately because I'm kind of lovesick. But then -- "

"Wait, what did you say?" You knitted your brows together, catching the last word he said. "Did you say lovesick? You son of a bitch, are you in love?"

"Language!" Out of nowhere, Steve yelled over the buzzing noises inside the bar. You snickered and he just gave you a look before he disappeared back into his office.

He is such a grandpa.

Peter chuckled. "To be honest, I have been for a very long time."

Your jaw dropped on the floor, ears all perked up, wanting to hear every detail of this. "And you never thought to tell me? Parker, I've been your best friend since forever. Why the hell wouldn't you tell me?"

"Because..." He trailed off, avoiding your stare. "It's not that big a deal."

"Okay, was this after that bitch Denise?"

"Actually, waaaay before that."

"Oh wow, that long, huh?" You replied. "Oh my god, is it someone we know from college? Shit, is it MJ?"

"No, it's not!" He replied. "And I'm not telling you who because I don't have actual plans on pursuing her." He sighed through his nose while taking a big sip of his beer. He brought down the bottle on the counter with a loud thud.

"So, it's a girl."

He grunted in reply.

You laughed. "So, why not pursue her?" You asked while multitasking. You handed a bowl of peanuts to the man beside Peter who was asking for it. "Is she taken? Does she have a boyfriend? A girlfriend?"

"No, she doesn't."

"So, why the hell not, Parker?"

You impatiently waited for an answer from Peter as it took him a couple of minutes to do so.

"Because I don't think it's a good idea. I don't think it will ever work." He answered, scratching the label on his beer bottle with much frustration. "I've thought about all the probabilities, but every single one of them ends the same."

"And what is that?"

"That it won't work out."

The thing about Peter was he never dive into things headfirst. Even though he was a dumbass, he was always a man of intellect who calculated everything in his head before committing to something.

"Why is it always statistics and probabilities and all that crap with you?" You let out an exasperated sigh. "What if for once in your life, follow your goddamn heart? You keep treating everything with a business mind. Go with what your gut tells you to do. Don't think too much about it because the heart wants what it wants, Parker."

Peter gazed at you for a few moments, perhaps finding the right words to say but he just shook his head and fought against his feelings. "I can't do it, y/n. I badly want to, like, it's already at the tip of my tongue. I badly want to tell her but I can't. I don't want to know what's gonna happen next. I'm just scared of what's gonna happen. I don't think I can take it."

As much as you wanted to convince him to go for the girl, you let it go. You've said what you had to say but it was always up to him whether he takes your advice or not. "So, what now?"

"Well now, I'm going to tell you the good news, the one you robbed me off when you batted in."

You rolled your eyes. "What's the good news, Parker?"

"Me and my colleagues will go on a corporate retreat for at least a week!"

You raised an eyebrow, writing a confused expression on your face. "How is this good news?"

"I'll be gone for a week, away from the city, away from my love problems and all that. I think it'll be good for me." Then, a smile started to form on his lips. "There, I'll leave all my worries behind."

"Parker, it's just a one-week corporate retreat, not a sabbatical." You grimaced, unimpressed with the whole thing. "You're not gonna get over this thing in just seven days."

"You don't know that." He scoffed. "I'll be a new man once I get back. You'll see."

"Sure." You replied, a hint of sarcasm laced in your tone.

"Oh, one more thing!"

"What, another corporate retreat?" You snickered, amused with all the clever remarks you were throwing at him. Peter, on the other hand, wasn't.

"No!" He gave you a look. "Bucky will look after you while I'm gone!"

Shock crossed your face. "Bucky?"

"Yes, me."

And on cue, a figure emerged behind Peter.

You were so bewildered with Peter's troubles that you hadn't noticed Bucky creeping up towards the counter. He was wearing what seemed like a navy blue tailored Hugo Boss suit, paired with a nice, sleek tie. His whole fit, illuminated by the iridescent lights made his blue eyes pop even more. Like last time, he opened up a button on his waist, tossed the end flaps in the air and sat down beside Peter on a high stool.

Watching him, you could feel the air around you tighten, paired with a clump of saliva caught in your throat. He placed his elbow on top of the counter and tucked his chin on his palm.

"B-bucky," you finally breathed, silently choking up on your own saliva, "hey, it's been quite some time."

"Hello, doll." The vowels on his words seemed to drop, accompanied by that rhythmic sound he usually does when he speaks. Oh god, one day with Bucky and I've already picked up on that, you thought. "Missed me?"

You felt some blood quickly rushing to your cheeks but you played it cool. "Don't flatter yourself, James." You pretended to get quite busy, wiping some clean glass off the counter then faced Peter. "So, what's this thing about Bucky looking after me?"

"Well, I'll be gone. You'll be alone. Bucky will look after you." Peter tried to "expound." "What's not adding up, y/n?"

You rolled your eyes at the two and scoffed, placing the glass on the counter. "No, thanks. It's just one week. I can take care of myself."

It was true. You once spent a two-week vacation all by yourself to California after high school and you came home in New Jersey without a scratch -- like a brand-new car. You walked around the place as if it was your turf, and blended in with the locals while basked in the glorious heat of the California sun.

"Bucky insisted." Peter chimed in defensively.

"Oh. Bucky insisted." You said, your gaze averting to Bucky's eyes. "Again, I appreciate the offer but I can handle myself. I'm not a baby."

Bucky, clearly amused with the whole situation, leaned back with careful eyes fixed on yours. "Come on, y/n, don't you want some company?"

"Aren't you busy with your company?" You retorted.

"Yes, I have been but not anymore." He replied. "Unless something comes up. A week without Peter must be somewhat lonely. Come on," he insisted once again, "it's also for me. It'll give me something to do for a week."

"Wait, what?"

"You guys could get to know each other better and get along!" Peter blurted. "And without me around, Bucky won't have someone to hangout with. Please, y/n? I'd feel so much better."

"Hang out? What are you guys, like sixteen?"

Your mind was still set on Bucky's last choice of words but you saved it for later.

"Pleaaaaseee?"

You sighed, knowing you could never refuse your best friend's pleas. "Fine."

"Great!"

"Just for the record," you said, holding up a finger, "I'm just agreeing because of Peter, not because I can't take care of myself."

Peter rolled his eyes while pulling out his phone from his pocket. "Yeah, yeah, you're an independent woman. Okay, I gotta take this call. I'll be right back."

And all then there were two: you and Bucky. While making two grasshoppers for a couple of girls who just entered, you could feel Bucky's intense stare towards you. Your mind, clouded with thoughts, wished it could tap into his and take a sly look at what was going on inside.

You locked eyes as soon as you handed the girls their drinks. Bucky wearing such a neat, tailored suit made you forget about all his child-like ways in Peter's countless stories. All you saw was a man favored by all the gods and at the same time sent by the devil to test you in so many ways imaginable. You wondered if he felt the same. Of course, you weren't like him or any other people carved perfectly by the gods, but his vehement stare said otherwise.

"Are you gonna order a drink?" You asked, breaking the silence, and also your train of thoughts.

"No." He replied. "I'm good."

"Okay."

Peter, where the hell are you?

"Hey, y/n?"

"Yes?"

"You look beautiful tonight."

A plain black tank top, paired with some old jeans, minimal makeup and this man just told you that you looked beautiful. "Well not just tonight. You've always been beautiful. I just hope you know that."

"Okay what has gotten into you? You're being... weird."

He shrugged. "I'm just stating facts."

You hummed, a look of confusion spread across your face. "Thank you, I guess. Y-you look good yourself. Very different from when I first met you." You chuckled.

"Well, I was naked the first time we met so yeah."

Peter got back from his phone call and for the whole night, you spent your time working your shift while Bucky and Peter moved on to play some billiards and darts as well. Nat kept shifting her eyes between you and Bucky and you just shrugged her off, flipping your middle finger on her in which she reciprocated.

The next day, Peter was all set for his corporate retreat, surprised he didn't need any help from me at all. You helped him with some of his bags towards the sidewalk ("Jesus, Parker, are you going out of the country?"). While you waited for his Uber to arrive.

"You better take care of yourself, Parker." You said, standing beside him on the side of the street. "I'm gonna miss you."

"Really? I'm gonna miss you too."

"Well, yeah, of course. You're like a little brother to me." You smiled, ruffling his brown locks even though he was taller than you.

He looked down on the pavement with a tight-lipped smile. "Right, right."

Smiling, you grabbed his hand and leaned your head on his surprisingly broad shoulders. "Come on, cheer up. You needed this, right?"

"Yes, I definitely do." He whispered. "More than you know."

A few seconds later, the Uber arrived. Before climbing in the black vehicle, you were pulled into Peter's embrace with a soft, fluttery kiss landing on your forehead. Taken aback, you just smiled at him and watched the car get tinier and tinier as it drove further.

You got back in the apartment and five minutes later, there was a knock on the door. Behind it was a smiling Bucky wearing some casual clothes. "Good morning, doll. Missed me?"

You rolled your eyes letting him inside the apartment. Closing the door behind me, you replied: "You've already used that line last night. Pick another one."

"Aw, you haven't heard the rest of it."

You went to the kitchen, grabbed some water from the fridge, and took a drink. "Which is?"

"Miss me, miss me, now you gotta kiss me."

With unsteady hands, you choked on your water and felt the liquid on your skin as soon as those words left Bucky's mouth. Great now I spilled the drink on my chest.

You turned around only to be faced by Bucky. "Now I gotta what?"

His laughter echoed in the kitchen as he backed away from you. "I'm just messing with you. So, what's for breakfast?"

He left you there standing flabbergasted, with some water dripping down your top and shorts, down to the floor. You bore your eyes into the back of his head as he turned on the television.

Bucky tilted his head towards you, eyed you up and down and finished it with a swipe of his tongue on his lower lip.

Oh, this was going to be a long week.

A long, agonizing week.

#bucky barnes story #bucky story #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes fan fiction #bucky fan fiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes au #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky fic #james bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #james buchanan bucky barnes #james barnes #au #marvel

[jobean12-blog]

Top Shelf: Chapter 9- Pour it onto the Page

Pairing: Bucky x reader (Bookshop/Bartender AU)

Word Count: 1,812

Summary: You plan a special night out for Bucky and it turns out to be more than you could have hoped for. 

Author’s Note: Thank you all for continuing on this journey with me! I really appreciate all your kind words and support. It keeps me going and makes me so happy! This chapter is mostly flufftastic before I get into them figuring stuff out! :) 

Warnings: slight tiny angst in the beginning and the super fluffy love fluff :) 

Previous Chapters

Chapter 1: Enchantment

Chapter 2: Cookie Crumble

Chapter 3: Sweet Anticipation

Chapter 4: Read Between the Limes

Chapter 5: Secrets on the Shelf

Chapter 6: Love Between the Covers

Chapter 7: Love Lines & Soul Finds

Chapter 8: Drunk in Love

Your eyes search his, the sadness you see making your heart hurt. Running your fingers along his jaw you brush your nose to his, “we’ll figure this out, Bucky. Don’t worry.” He crushes you to his chest and buries his face in your neck, his deep inhales shaking your whole body. You rub up and down his back, squeezing him back as tight as you can.

When he finally pulls away his eyes are misty but there is slightly less pain. “Thank you. I’m sorry to drop that bomb on you. I’ve been so happily distracted lately that it just hasn’t seemed real. Grandma kinda dragged it all up again at dinner, though.” You give him a small smile, “it’s ok, I’m glad you felt you could talk to me. Why don’t you tell me what’s been going on so we can figure this out together?”

Bucky throws his arm around your shoulder and starts to walk, resting his head on top of yours. “It just seems like we are getting fewer and fewer customers. People aren’t looking for actual books anymore. They use e-readers and listen to audio books and all that nonsense.” You giggle at this last words. “You know baby, it’s not nonsense, some of it is good. I mean I always prefer an actual book myself. We need to think of a way to get more people into the shop!”

As you continue to walk back to Bucky’s apartment the conversation takes a turn toward your mutual love for books and you’re reminded of Betty’s story of meeting James. “Hey Buck, do you think you should talk to your grandma about this? Maybe she can offer help since she has been a part of it for so long.” Bucky looks down at his shoes, kicking a rock away before his eyes meet yours again, “I’m afraid. She already lost grandpa; I can’t stand to see her in more pain.”

You rest your head against his chest and wrap your arms around his waist, “I know. We’ll think of something.” The two of you walk back to Bucky’s apartment slowly, mostly chatting about his grandparents. When you learn he hasn’t been to Coney Island since he was in his teens, you’re shocked but a plan forms in your head, one that gets you overly excited.

The next work week comes and goes with only one thing different than the last. You finally admit to yourself that you are totally and completely falling in love with Bucky. “And now I’m telling you because I had to tell someone, and I can’t tell him! It’s only be like two months!” You give Nat an exasperated look and sink to the floor in the kitchen, cookie in hand.

“Wow,” Nat says through a mouthful, “these are amazing! What kind did you say they were?” You pin her with a glare before yelling, “I just told you I’m in love with Bucky and you’re asking me about the cookies!!!” She laughs! A real loud and boisterous laugh that causes her to snort some cookie and start to choke. “Jeez, Nat, be careful,” you chide, standing and rubbing her back.

When she finally calms down and catches her breath, she pins you with a look, “I could have told you that you were in love with him after the first week. I was just waiting for you to admit it. Now. What kind of cookies are these? You have to add them to your book!” With a loud sigh you say, “double chocolate peanut butter.”

Nat rests her forearm on your shoulder, licking her fingers clean of crumbs, “listen y/n, he feels the same way. It’s written all over him. Just give it more time.” You grab another cookie from the plate, taking a bite and nodding your head in agreement. “I’m really excited about surprising him with a trip to Coney Island. I hope it makes him happy.” Nat takes the cookie from your hand, finishing it in one bite. “He’s gonna love it! And I’m gonna be sure Sam gives him the night off,” she winks through her mouth full.

Saturday arrives and you can’t control your excitement, bouncing around on your feet while making breakfast. “Doll, what is with you? Did you eat cupcakes or something while I was in the bathroom?” Bucky asks, grabbing your waist to hold you still. You turn in his arms and say, “nope,” popping the p. “Just happy it’s Saturday is all.” He reaches around you and grabs the eggs, smiling before walking to the table.

Just as he sits his phone dings with a message. “It’s early for anyone to be up and texting me other than you. And you’re here,” he says, confusion etched on his face. “It’s Sam.” You try to act surprised and maybe even a little worried, rushing over to wait for him to explain. “Oh wow!” Bucky exclaims, his smile wide, “Sam gave me the night off! He said Peter wanted to pick up an extra shift just for this week.”

You do a little happy dance, “that’s great! Now we have the whole evening free!” Bucky looks up at you, unable to stop smiling with how happy you are. But just as quickly as it comes his smile disappears and his lips turn down into a small frown. “What babe, what’s wrong?” you ask quickly, sitting next to him. “Maybe I shouldn’t take the night off, I kinda need all the money I can get right now.”

His eyes search yours and your stomach turns, cursing yourself for not thinking that he might feel this way. “I understand completely. If you feel you need to work, then you should. Definitely do what you’re most comfortable with.” His smile returns and he leans over to kiss you before saying, “you know what, fuck it. I haven’t had a Saturday off since the bar opened and I wanna take my best girl out on the town!”

You instantly feel better and give him a sly smile. “I have the perfect idea if you’re up for a surprise?” you ask, batting your lashes. He pulls you into his lap, whispering against your lips, “I’ll do whatever you want tonight, baby, I’m all yours.” You wiggle in his lap, your excitement infectious as he laughs along with you. Suddenly he still your hips, letting out a low growl, “listen beautiful, if you’re gonna continue hopping around in my lap like this, I’m gonna be late for the bookshop.” Raising your eyebrows, you slowly turn to face the table, grabbing the fork and eating a mouthful of eggs. “Sorry,” you mumble, but not before one more good wiggle.

You meet Bucky at the bookshop at closing. He’s in the back when you walk in, so you sit yourself on the counter and wait. He walks out in a tight blue tee shirt and jeans, your eyes wandering from his head to his toes. “Is this ok for where we’re going? I didn’t know if I needed to be more dressed up, so I brought a button down.” Sliding off the counter you walk around it and say, “it’s perfect.” He grabs your hand and gives you a twirl, your light cotton dress skirt floating up and around your legs as you giggle. “You look amazing as always.”

You had an uber ready and waiting for you outside the shop and Bucky gives you a surprised smile. “Riding in style tonight, huh?” You giggle, sliding inside the backseat while Bucky holds the door. The whole ride over you keep him engaged in conversation, hoping to divert his attention from where you are going. You make as far as the tunnel before Bucky says anything, his face lit up by the overhead lights.

“Are we in the battery tunnel?” he asks, his tone laced with excited surprise. “Mayyyybbbeee,” you say, shrugging, “just shush and enjoy the ride.” Raising a brow, he puts his hands up and replies, “ok, I promise to just go with it. I won’t ask questions.” You scoot over so he can wrap his arm around you. “So, tell me more about how you met Steve and Sam?”

Bucky tries so hard to keep his eyes on you for the entire ride but as you take the exit to Ocean Parkway, he can’t help but look out the window, his whole face lighting up as he spins around in his seat. “You’re taking me to Coney Island?!!?” he shouts, whipping back around to smush you to his chest. “Does that mean you’re happy?” you ask, your voice muffled in his shirt.  “Yes,” he whispers, lifting your face to his, “so happy.” He kisses you before you can reply and you melt against him, forgetting all about your surroundings.

The uber pulls to a stop on Surf Ave, the cool ocean breeze hitting you as soon as you open the car door. You inhale deeply, the salty air filling your lungs and bringing you peace. You sneak a look at Bucky, his eyes wide and bright as he takes it all in. Before you can ask where he wants to go first, he grabs hold of your hand and starts walking toward the Wonder Wheel.

“Will ya go on with me doll?” You couldn’t say no to him even if you wanted to, nodding your head vigorously as you get closer. “I haven’t been on here in…shit, probably over 12 years!” After getting your tickets you get on the line, Bucky’s arm draped over your shoulder as he tells you about his Coney Island memories.

He helps you onto the car, sitting next you and pulling you close. “Oh man, I can’t believe it,” he says, looking out over the park. You watch as the bright and colorful lights dance in the reflection of his eyes, your mouth opening to speak as the wheel starts to turn. “Y/n! Look!” he shouts, pointing out toward the water just as the fireworks start. You pull yourself away, looking out over the ocean as the sky explodes into a rainbow of colors.

As you stare at the bursts of light your mind races over the words you’ve been harboring for weeks. The words about to explode off your tongue louder than the fireworks. His name comes out as a whisper as you turn your head toward him, finding that his eyes are settled on your face. “I love you.” He says the words and they ring out over the booms; louder and clearer than any others you’ve heard before.

You can feel your whole face light up and your heart swell before you repeat the words back. “I love you, Bucky.” His smile matches yours as he dips his head, kissing your lips and pouring everything into it, the bright lights and loud sounds fading away.

@aesthetical-bucky​ @auro-ora​ @azurika-writes​ @bugsbucky​ @buckys-broody-muffin​ @book-dragon-13​ @eurynome827​ @hiddles-rose​ @hailmary-yramliah​ @hawksmagnolia​ @ikaris-whore​ @itsunclebucky​ @jhangelface0523​ @jewels2876​ @loricameback​ @littledarlinhavefaithinme​ @littleredstarfish​ @mushyjellybeans​ @marvelgirl7​ @marvelandotherfandomimagines​ @nano--raptor​ @nerdypinupcrystal​ @moonybarnes​ @nordlysinthewoods​ @randomfandompenguin​ @sallycanwait68​ @softpeachbarnes​ @scarletsoldierrr​ @the-wayward-robot​ @when-the-hell-is-bucky​ @rinthehufflepuff​ @irishflutiegirl​ @jamesbarnesappreciationclub​ @fireflv​ @nd1998sc​ @captainchrisstan​ @vherriepie​ @godofplumsandthunder​ @amandatar-06​ @throwmyheartawayagain​ @flyawaybay 

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky x reader fluff #bookshop au #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x reader fluff #bucky barnes bookshop au #bucky fluff #bucky barnes x reader angst #bucky x reader angst #bucky barnes imagine #bookshop!Bucky au #bartender bucky #bartender!bucky au #bartender!Bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x you #top shelf #top shelf chapter 9

[peachyteabuck]

of pleasure ~ act ii, “if we ruled the world”

summary: a sort-of non-avengers au where everyone has their powers and absolutely no one is in a highly powerful mob (or, at least, that’s what the feds think). 

or, a commission in three parts for anonymous, who asked for a series about wanda x natasha x reader.

pairing: wanda maximoff x natasha romanoff x reader (focus on natasha romanoff x reader)

words: 3,502

trigger warnings: flashback, angst if you squint, heavy smut, sub!natasha, mention of violence/self doubt, alcohol as a coping mechanism

ask box / masterlist / commission info / ko-fi

READ ACT I HERE

Natasha awkwardly ushers Wanda out, biting at her nearly-bleeding nail beds and carefully avoiding the wide, prying eyes of the large bodyguards she has stationed outside of her office at all hours. If she were in a more level-headed state she would glare and snap at them and threaten to fire them – she would be Natasha Romanoff, head bitch in charge and a woman whose firey hair gets its color from the blood in her veins.

But she’s not Natasha Romanoff, she’s Nat – a woman who can barely make it to the plush chair behind her desk before memories of the best fuck in her life are pouring over her. She doesn’t know how she remembers so much, but every time she blinks the room looks more and more like the bar you two met in.

It was Natasha’s bar, but it looked nothing like it did now. Then she had just risen in the ranks, was still earning the respect of patrons and those below her. It was a difficult night; Bucky had gotten hurt and Nat was drinking her fears away – desperate to corral them into some corner of her mind instead of letting them run loose.

If she couldn’t protect her best friend, how could she protect the mob? Her hands nearly shook as she took another shot. The assets? The people that had just begun to work under her? Was she meant for this? Was she good enough?  

She was on her third vodka tonic of the night when you intervened, taking up the empty barstool to her left. She had seen you before – you were a bartender who was a previous hire but worked hours Natasha was often busy which meant the two of you rarely crossed paths.

“Shouldn’t you be working?” Natasha scoffs, though a little slurred, hoping to avoid something akin to a PR nightmare.

You shrug, replacing her alcoholic drink with a tall glass of water. “Part of my job is making sure the sad drunks don’t do anything they’ll regret later. Now drink some water, I don’t want to clean vomit from the grout of my bar.

“YOUR bar?” Natasha rolls her eyes, her words starting to slur and movements beginning to slow. “Don’t you know this is MY bar?”

You sigh. “When the owner is too drunk to see straight, line of succession dictates it is now my bar.”

Natasha furrows her brow and shakes her head as two of the biggest women you have ever seen carry her out of the establishment and towards her apartment. “…But I’m a lesbian…”

Somehow, through the hazy parts of that night, that incredibly embarrassing memory reigns clear as day.

Natasha’s retching into a toilet she does not recognize in a bathroom she’s never seen before. To be fair, though, she did not have much time to admire/familiarize herself with the décor before she ripped off her shirt and then vomiting up everything from her appendix to her lungs. If she was anything more than a shell of a woman after this night, she’d be the luckiest girl on the face of the Earth.

“Sh…sh, it’s okay,” she hears your voice in the distance and feels your hand on the small of her back. “It’s okay, get it all out.”

When she’s finally done, you hand her a tall class of cold water and many, many painkillers. Natasha understands what to do without prompting – swallowing everything you give her with as much eagerness as a dog finding a pill within a spoonful of peanut butter. Makes the same face, too.

By sheer luck, you get her into your bed without her vomiting on anything. Natasha falls asleep easily, eyes unfocused as they close.

“Thank you,” she mumbles just before falling asleep.

“No problem,” you tell her.

You end up sleeping on the couch a room away, waking up every few hours to check on her. The only time she wakes up is when you’re making breakfast the next morning – eggs and turkey bacon and coffee black as the asphalt Natasha would’ve eaten if you didn’t help her home. You gesture with the spatula in your dominant hand, the other on the handle to keep the pan steady.

“Sit, come eat,” you tell her – voice comforting but direct.

Natasha follows the orders easily, her eyes downcast until you take your place in the chair across from her. Only then does she look up, struggling to avoid your heavy gaze.

“Bad night?” you ask between bites of food.

Natasha sighs, swallowing down her food with coffee. “Yeah, you could say that.”

“You wanna talk about it?”

She shakes her head. “Nah, not a fan of reliving something I tried to forget.”

“You wanna fuck about it?”

Natasha nearly spits out the remnant of her eggs onto the table. “Are you serious?”

When she meets your eyes, she doesn’t see you laughing or smiling or even about to laugh or smile. All she sees is a beautiful woman offering her sex after what is quite possibly the worst night of her life.

While Natasha gazes at you in sheer horror, disgust - you look almost…relaxed. Chill. Decompressed.

Natasha stays quiet as you speak, with one eyebrow raised and your lips curled into a smirk. “Are you?”

The woman across from you doesn’t move, doesn’t say anything back. For a long while, she remains statuesque – both in beauty and in stillness. She doesn’t say anything until she’s finished her food and placed her plate gingerly into the kitchen sink. Even then, she avoids your eyes ad grips the edge of the counter like a lifeline.

“Only if I can shower first.”

You laugh with your head thrown back, deep and loud and boisterous. It’s the most beautiful laugh Natasha’s ever heard, and her heart aches when you finally speak.  

“Sure thing, Red. Towels in the third shelf in the cabinet, use as many as you like.”

Natasha doesn’t say anything else, doesn’t even meet your eyes as she follows muscle memory to the place where she puked her guts up in the night previous.

Once she figures out your shower and turns the knob marked with a red H all the way on, Natasha looks around, peaking in the cabinets and under the sink – a bad habit from the days of training. She doesn’t know what she’s expected to find, but nothing of the sort piques her interest. It’s all…quite regular, normal even.

Under the sink she sees tons of cleaning supplies, what she guesses are doubles of various beauty/hygiene products, empty travel-sized bags.

The mirror-fronted cabinet is filled with over the counter medication, sample-sized beauty products, and enough skin care merchandise to leave all of Manhattan pimple-free.

When she closes it, the thick steam turns her reflection into a mere blob, and only then does Natasha Romanoff strip off her clothes.

The water burns her skin, bites at her cuts, makes her bruises sting. If she was anywhere else, she’d probably scream and cry, maybe pick at the scabs starting to form.

Here, though, she swallows the stone that’s accrued in her throat and ignores the even bigger boulder that’s made its home in the center of her chest. She grabs for the shampoo (then body wash, then conditioner) and tries to clean herself.

The spicy mint liquid (did she mention that everything was coordinated? Not even the same brand, just a perfectly harmonized sympathy of scents) works for the dirt, for the sweat, for the weird stickiness she doesn’t recognize that clings to the skin of her thighs and palms and, somehow, places inside her.

She doesn’t know how long it is when she finally steps out – pads of her fingers and toes wrinkled and her lungs clouded with the steam. She can barely breathe, but she has a feeling its not because of the thick air.

The towel – deep and maroon – is the fluffiest and softest thing Natasha’s ever felt against her skin. She pads back to the room she slept in last night, only a little shocked to find the bed made and you, barefoot in a baggy t-shirt and running shorts, reading a thick book you’re about halfway through.

She catches flashes of the front cover – something she dismally recognizes. It’s a spy novel, one of those cheesy romance ones that are incredibly popular with middle-aged moms and lonely Christian college students.

“Whatcha readin?” Natasha asks.

You look up and smile after looking her over. “Some garbage. Borrowed it from a friend after she said I’m, well,” you let out a self-deprecating laugh. “that I’m ‘super lonely.’ Which isn’t not true.”

Natasha smiles back. “Still sounds kinda mean.”

You shrug. “Truth hurts, I guess.”

There are a few moments of silence as you and her stare at each other – the kind of silence Natasha doesn’t seem to mind. Normally she hates the quiet, feels the need to fill whatever void she feels is created by lack of speech.

Still, she’s the person to break it. “Why are you smiling like that?”

“That towel,” you say, smirk still on your lips. “Matches your hair.”

Natasha smiles a little, avoiding your gaze as she searches for the dirty clothes from last night. Without hesitation, you push the clothes toward her with your foot – except now they’re clean, folded, fresh.

“Thanks,” Natasha mumbles. “I…thanks.”

You shrug, telling her its no problem. “Assumed you wouldn’t want to put on your dirty clothes, so…”

Natasha nods but says nothing, reaching for the clothes. She stops when she notices you putting your book to the side and readjusting against the headboard. Natasha stands there, clutching where the towel tucks into itself – waiting for whatever you’re going to say next.

“C’mere,” you say, beckoning her over with a single crooked finger.

She follows, still silent, walking to the edge of your bed with shaky hands and awkward legs. She hesitates, waiting for confirmation.

“It’s alright, baby girl, c’mere,” you say again, opening your legs further. An invitation, Natasha realizes. It makes her heart speed up.

She gives you a small nod before moving forward, adjusting her towel along the way with her eyes trained on the bed.

You guide her so that her back – still covered by the towel – presses into your chest.

“If you ever want to stop,” you whisper, intertwining your hands with hers. The pads of her fingers are still slightly wrinkled and sensitive and she nearly moans as her skin meets yours. “Just tell me, okay?”

Natasha gives a small nod, moving closer to you.

“This alright?” you ask, moving to undo her towel.

She nods again, then tenses as her damp skin is exposed to the cool air. Your warm hands make goosebumps erupt over her soft, sweet-smelling skin. Her breath hitches as your teeth trail across her back - leaving kisses along her shoulder and up into her hairline then on the shell of her ear.

“Just relax, baby,” you tell her. “Don’t worry about anything, just let me take care of you.”

Natasha nods silently, readjusting before pressing back into you. The towels falls as she does, and as it bunches uncomfortably you grab at it to throw it to the floor. With her last veil of modesty tossed carelessly aside Natasha blushes, moving to cross her arms over her chest.

You tsk, moving her arms from in front of her. “Don’t hide from me, baby,” you mumble into her ear. “Don’t ever hide your beautiful body from me.”

Natasha stays silent, hands resting outside your knees. She does nod, though, and presses into you once more. One of your arms goes across her chest, keeping her own arms in place at her sides. The other trails between her legs, fingertips ghosting over her thighs and across her lower stomach. You can hear Natasha’s breath hitch each time your skin meets hers.

“You like that, baby girl?” You ask. She nods again, small squeaks leaving her as you collect some of the slick that’s dripping onto your sheets. “You like it when I touch you like this?”

Natasha moans as you plunge one, two fingers into her. She watches for a few thrusts before clenching her eyes shut and letting her head fall back into your shoulder and panting into your bare neck. It’s not long before you can feel her pussy clenching around your fingers, her breath coming out in light pants and moans deeper than before.

“I-I’m,” you can hear her try to swallow despite the dryness of her mouth. “Fuck, I’m gonna come.”

You smile and bite at the shell of her ear. “It’s okay, baby girl, you can come, you can come all you want tonight.”

It only takes a few more crooks of your fingers, a few more circles around her clit for Natasha to throw her head back and nearly scream – her legs shaking as she gushes over your fingers and wrists and sheets. Her whole body – once quite tense – now slacks against your chest. You’re a little taken aback by her squirting, and that this is normal enough for Natasha that she has no problem ruining another lover’s bed. Somehow it makes it that much hotter, makes you that much wetter, as you manhandle her onto her back. She’s pliant, laying nice and open for you - even as you grab the strap and cleaned cock from the back of one of the drawers in your nightside table, even as you slide one of your biggest toys into her soaked, aching pussy.

Natasha’s whole body is tense, each individual muscle chasing pleasure. She’s got her knees pulled up to her chest, one arm holding them in place and the other gripping your sheets. She doesn’t remember the last time she’d been folded in half, but now she wishes she could spend every day like this.

“Oh, god,” she moans, high-pitched and whiny. “God, it feels so good.”

You laugh a little, catching her lips in a kiss as you thrust shallowly into her. “Yeah, baby girl? You like getting fucked like this?”

Natasha nods, gasping each time the leather of the strap brushes her clit. “Yes, fuck yesyesyes.”

Your hand wraps around Nat’s throat, pushing her further into the bed. “Yes, of course she does. My big powerful mobster loves getting her pussy demolished, doesn’t she? Needs to be fucked so that she can focus on her job?”

The woman in question is nodding and babbling absolute nonsense – and, in the low light, you’re sure you see tears fall down her face.

One of your hands comes down to properly rub at her neglected clit. Natasha nearly screams as you do, hips bucking in a wild, animalistic way.

“You gonna come like this?” you whisper, leaning down to kiss between her brows. “Is my nasty little slut gonna come from me fucking her this good?”

Natasha nods again, each thrust soliciting another desperate, high-pitched moan from somewhere deep in her throat.

“Yeah?” you faux-pout, voice dropping as you watch her eyes roll back into her head. You spit on her cunt, Natasha wailing as the slick collecting there allows you to rub harder, faster at the most sensitive part of her.

She comes with a shout – with a loud, deep moan you wish you’d recorded. It takes you a moment, takes the pounding in your chest and ears a moment to recede, for you to realize your abdomen (as well as hers) were covered in her wetness. Her dry lips and flittering eyes only give more credence to your understanding, to your realization that she had squirted all over you.

Natasha groans as you pull out, the delicateness of her pussy as well as the emptiness combining into a cognitive dissonance she could feel in the tip of her toes.

You get her something to drink – an unmarked Gatorade bottle you’re praying isn’t spiked (you’ve been a bartender long enough to usually know what is and isn’t, but somehow Natasha seems like someone able to escape your watchful eye).

It takes a few minutes for the color to return to Natasha’s face, for her to ask if she can get you off, too. You smile and kiss her again, silently sitting up.

You finally come with your pussy hovering over Natasha’s panting mouth, her face becoming soaked with your wetness and, soon, your cum. She’s able to find the mental focus to clean some of it up, and it takes all of you not to pounce on her as you watch her, with hooded eyes, desperate to for praise as she licks at her face.

“You good, darling?” you coo, wiping at her cheeks with your thumbs.

Natasha sniffles. “Yeah, yeah I’m good.”

You nod, running your hands through her sweaty hair. “Alright, I’m gonna grab you another Gatorade, okay? I’m not gonna be gone long, I promise.”

She nods, making no effort to move. Natasha lays there, practically inert as she hears you leave the room. She’s too tired to look at anything but the ceiling – the terrifying reality of what she has to do next settling over her.

Still, she closes her eyes and listens to you padding into the kitchen and opening the refrigerator. The faint sound of the bottle opening, the cap being thrown away and hitting the side of the metal trash can. It’s all so mundane but everything Natasha needs right now – reprieve from her mistakes and the consequences of them.

You help her up, when you get back, so she can drink without coughing and sputtering and drowning on dry land. One hand remains occupied with holding the bottle of liquid, while your other arm wraps around your back. It rests at her side, with your thumb rubbing circles into the heated skin.

You coo sweet praises into her hairline, your legs bracketing her in. When the dull-orange liquid is gone you toss it to the side – pulling Natasha down with you.

You fall asleep easily, Natasha resting on your bare chest. She knows when you’ve fallen into unconsciousness because your fingers stop carding through her hair, working through the knots that have found themselves there.

She waits, listening as your heartbeat and breathing slow to an even pace. Natasha lays there for a long while, savoring the feeling being in your arms – of the delicious tiredness in her muscles. Wide awake, she waits until the orange-yellow sun begins to light up the room.

You lay there, wonderfully oblivious to Natasha getting redressed and finding her dead, now-cracked phone; unaware of her holding her shoes until the front door was closed softly and silently.

She doesn’t put her shoes on until the gets in the elevator, and doesn’t cry until she finds her way home.

The memory is long, vivid – she can nearly feel your skin under her fingertips. It’s then that the reality of the situation hits her, that what she thinks is happening is, in fact, really actually fucking happening:

Wanda Maximoff, Natasha Romanoff’s best friend and right-hand woman, is dating a woman Natasha has lowkey been in love with for about a year.

Has she seen you since that night? No. She’s got a picture of you, one she found after cleaning out a thick stack of photos (like, physical ass photos) from the bar. It’s you, happy, pouring drinks with both hands. She’s got it tucked away somewhere in her bedroom beneath old medications she never finished and note she scribbled.

Has she made an effort to? No. Never to look at the photo, or to find you. It should be easy, considering you work at the bar she owns – but ever since that night…she’s avoided it. The bar.

Does she still feel a gut-wrenching guilt gnawing at her as she folds herself into a fetal position on her office floor? Absolutely.

Natasha finds herself in the center of an ethical dilemma of the worst kind; the rare kind that a gun or knife or sly smile can’t get her out of. For what is likely the first time in her whole life-slash-professional-career, she probably actually should really deal with whatever corner she’s backed herself into.

Isn’t there some girl code, or whatever, that says she should tell Wanda what’s happened? Shouldn’t she at least warn you? But, even if she wanted to, how would she do that, given she hasn’t so much as looked at you since she snuck out of your apartment? Should she warn Wanda? What would she even say!?

“Hey, trusted fist of my multi-billion-dollar operation and also girl I know who has superpowers and is definitely hiding from a few governments, I got fucked by your girlfriend about a year back and I haven’t been the same since! She railed me until I was a new person! It’s that hilarious! Please laugh at this with me!”

Natasha groans and lets her head drop to her desk. She is royally and totally fucked.

(And, to her dismay, not in a good way).

#lukis does commissions #lukis writes stuff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagines #black widow x reader #mobster nat

[levi-inthesun]

Loving Someone

This is for @stuckonjbbarnes​ writing challenge with the song Loving Someone by The 1975. 

Summary: In order to protect your heart, you made up the “only fuck once” rule, dictating that you could not sleep with the same person more than once. Then Carol Danvers comes back to the compound, to stay. Will this rule bite you in the ass?

Warnings: Swearing, references to smut, dirty talk?

Paring: Carol x Reader

A/N- I did not edit this.... so sorry

“What are you doing tonight?” Sam asked as you both slowed to an easy jog.

“Probably just gonna go the bar,” you reply easily.

Sam stops abruptly, “How long are you going to stay in denial?” There isn’t any malice or bite to his words, just genuine concern and it makes you feel uneasy. You make some non-committal noise instead of answering and finish jogging to the doors of the compound. 

You do your best to avoid Sam the rest of the day, which wasn’t too difficult until it’s time for you to leave for your favorite bat. Except Sam is standing by the door, dressed and ready to go. As you approach, Sam has that look in his eyes and you know you cannot convince him to stay home unless you stay home tonight. 

“You driving or are we getting an uber?” You ask, throwing your cropped leather jacket on. 

“I’ll drive,” Sam decides, grabbing a random set of keys and you both make your way to the garage.

The bar is only slightly packed, which is, in your humble opinion, optimal. You like to have room to breathe, more specifically though, room to dance with whatever woman consents. 

You skip over to the bar and order a rum and coke and chat with your favorite bartender and Sam watches from a booth he’s claimed. 

“You know, you are a lot less closed off here,” he casually says while throwing a peanut into his mouth. 

“Are you just going to therapize me the entire night?” You (semi) joke.

Sam shrugs and you take a long sip of your drink before moving towards the dancing people.

The night went on how every weekend-night goes. You get pleasantly buzzed/on the edge of drunk, dance with hot women, and eventually, go to either your place or their place where you will (hopefully) ravish each other. 

~

You wake up slowly, a faint pressure on your hip. You hear the woman behind you breathe deeply before stretching gently.

“Morning,” she says softly, placing a kiss on your bare shoulder. “I’d love to stay for breakfast, er,” she looks at her phone. “Lunch but I’ve got a meeting later.” 

You nod and watch her hop around throwing her clothes back on. “I’m just gonna use the bathroom then I’ll be out of your hair,” she says, watching as you sit up and the sheet pools around your waist.

You raise an eyebrow in reply.

Once she’s left (with her phone number written on your mirror with the lipstick she was wearing last night), you throw on a pair of sweats and one of Sam’s shirts before making your way out to the kitchen.

“She was cute,” Sam says, throwing something in the microwave.

You hum in agreement and look through the fridge, eventually settling on an apple. 

“Oh, we’ve got a meeting at 3,” Sam informs you. “Captain Marvel is back in town and she has some stuff she needs to brief us on.”

“Captain Marvel is a woman, huh?” You ask Sam, wiggling your eyebrows suggestively.

“You do know that not everyone is bisexual, right?” Sam teases. He grabs his bag of popcorn out of the microwave and starts to walk out of the kitchen before turning back. “Uh, maybe don’t have a one night stand with our teammate?”

~~

You are ready to crawl into a hole or have the earth open up and eat you.

“Hey, Y/N,” Carol greets you, a mischievous glint in her light brown eyes. 

“Oh, fuck me,” you whisper before composing yourself. “Hey, Carol,” you say, shaking her hand. 

“I already did,” Carol states, voice low, before switching gears to get the meeting started. 

The entire meeting is spent trying to listen to Carol talk about possible issues outside of the earth’s orbit, but really you just end up staring, flashes from last night taking over when she moves a certain way. The other part is spent sending death glares at Sam and Bucky who are having the time of their lives at your misery.

Carol excuses herself to take a call and you lean forward, finger-pointing at the men across from you.

“You knew!” You whisper scream, “You couldn’t have warned me? What the hell?” 

Sam grins, “I just… Listen, I was going to when I realized it was Carol, but then I remembered that it is 5 million times more fun watching you suffer.”

Bucky cocks his head to the side, “Wait, did you hook up with Carol?”

“Some spy you are,” you grumble as Carol walks back in, a slight frown on her face.

“Apparently I’m grounded for the next… well,” Carol pauses, taking a deep breath, “foreseeable future.”

Sam and Bucky high-five under the table, then volunteer you to show Carol around. 

~

After showing Carol around the compound you decided you needed to go out again tonight. During the tour, Carol was extremely flirty, which was welcomed- except for the fact that she was a teammate and not a one night stand. To avoid her, you spent the rest of the day hiding in your room and searching your closet for the perfect outfit to wear. You ended up in a crop top with high waisted, wide-legged pants, and after checking yourself in the mirror you walked out of your room with your head held high. Luckily no one was in the kitchen and you were able to leave the compound without anyone noticing, or so you thought.

The club was vibrating with energy as patrons drank too much and danced as much as they could. You downed a shot at the bar then headed into the crowd. At the heart of the masses, you threw your hands in the air and danced, not caring who with. Soon a pair of large hands gripped your hips. Turning your head to the side, you glanced up at the beautiful man before leaning your body into his. Time was non-existent as you danced with the man and you were positive the feeling of his hand on your waist was burned into your skin.  

“You want to get out of here,” he asked, lips at the shell of your ear and voice low. 

“I’d rather stay here and dance for a little while longer. That good with you?” You replied eyebrow raised.

Instead of saying anything, he rolled his eyes and walked away, attaching those large hands to some other woman.

You rolled your eyes and sighed as you headed back to the bar and ordered a beer. You sat down and took a long drag from the bottle before popping some peanuts into your mouth. A remix of your favorite song came on, causing you to down the rest of the bottle before heading back into the throng.

You moved your own body with the mix of bodies around you, circling your hips, running your fingers through your hair. You saw a familiar hand slip around your middle and in your alcohol-induced haze, you thought it would be a good idea to test fate.

Lips crashed together as you both got out of the taxi and headed towards the compound. 

“Wait,” you cautioned, “ Gotta make sure no one is up.”

“It’s 3 am, Y/N,” Carol countered, “Who is going to be up?”

You chuckled before heading into the common area, Carol trailing behind you. When you found everything dark and empty, Carol’s voice cut through the silence.

“FRIDAY, are any of our teammates up?”

“No,” FRIDAYS voice replied, volume lowered for how late early it was, “All Avengers except you and Y/N Y/L/N are asleep.”

A mischievous look took over Carol’s features as she stalked towards you, causing you to back into a couch, almost falling over the back of it.

Carol quickly caught you, wrapping an arm around your waist and pressing her lips to your neck with open-mouthed kisses, causing a low moan to escape you. She then traced her tongue from the pulse point below your jaw over to your mouth. 

“You’ve gotta be quiet, baby,” Carol teased, voice low. “If you can do that, I’ll reward you by taking you to my room and fucking you so hard you can’t help but scream.”

A soft whimper left your lips and you nodded, crashing your lips against hers.

~

When you woke up, the first thing you realized was that you were alone in Carol’s bed. You quickly looked around, finding her room empty.

“God damnit,” you muttered to yourself. “I was supposed to go to the club and find  someone else to sleep with.” 

Your muttering continued as climbed out of her bed to find your clothes scattered throughout her quarters.

You didn’t notice right away when Carol walked back in, giving her the opportunity to admire your half-dressed form. 

You were about to put your bra on when you noticed her, leaning up against her desk with two mugs of coffee in hand. Her lips turned up in a smirk as she saw what she thought looked a lot like relief flood over you. 

Standing there, bra hanging around your middle, still staring at the gorgeous woman you’ve slept with twice now, you were overwhelmed with confusion. You quickly shook your head and fixed your bra and Carol pushed off the desk towards you.

“Thought you might want some coffee,” she said, handing it over.

“After last night I’ll probably need a pint,” you whispered, taking a sip.

“What was that?” Carol asked eyebrow raised. 

You coughed and looked up at her before clearing your throat. “Uh, I just said I’d probably need a pint after last night.”

Carol smiled, “And why is that?”

“Seriously, Carol? Do you need to hear me say it?” you asked. 

“Yes,” she replied simply. “Say it.”

You set the coffee down on the nearest flat surface before stepping closer to her. “I need a goddamn pint of coffee because you fucked me into almost every surface of your room until I couldn’t form a coherent sentence.”

“And I’ll do it anytime you’d like,” she told you, voice husky.

You quickly cleared your throat, then located your shirt and headed towards the door. “I wouldn’t count on it,” you did your best to keep your voice even. “I rarely sleep with the same person more than once.”

~

You spent the following weeks avoiding Carol unless absolutely necessary, which included going to a different bar and staying more sober than you normally would, just to make sure you didn’t accidentally end up back in her arms bed. 

“You’ve been drinking less,” Bucky stated with a questioning look on his face.

“And what’s that to ya, bionicle boy?” you responded, taking another bite of leftover pasta.

Bucky shrugged, “ Just curious. I-”

“Not just curious,” Sam interrupted, walking out from around the corner. “There are very few things that can get you to drink less. So what is it?”

You huffed and was about to deny them when Carol walked in, sweaty from the gym. She greeted you and you smiled in response, then did your best to not watch the bead of sweat trail down her neck. 

You sighed inwardly when she walked out of the kitchen.

Sam and Bucky shared a look before narrowing in on you. 

“You just sighed,” Bucky accused, “What happened between you and Carol?”

“I bet I know,” Sam said. “I bet you slept with Carol a second time, breaking your only fuck once rule.”

You tried to interrupt Sam, but he wouldn’t let you.

“BUT! Not only that, you have a crush on her,” he finished. 

“I do not!” You exclaimed, trying to sound annoyed. 

“Your voice just went up an octave,” Bucky observed, “Which means you are lying.”

“What do you have to say about that?” Sam questioned.

You could feel your face heat up and you jumped off the counter. “I’d say,” you turn to them, legitimately annoyed now, “That it’s none of your business.”

Instead of stomping off to your room, you walked out the front door and headed in whatever direction your feet took you, ending up at a park. Taking a deep breath you sat down on a nearby bench and let your head fall back so you were looking up at the sky. You stayed like that for a while, just watching the soft clouds roll by, mind empty. 

At least, it was empty until you looked up and saw two women holding hands, watching their kid go down the slide. 

“Fuck,” you whispered to yourself. 

You thought about what Bucky and Sam had accused you of, and you knew they were right. You had a big ole’ fat crush on Carol Danvers, fucking Captain Marvel, the woman who played your body better than anyone ever had. That’s when memories flooded your mind.

Memories about people from your past who you had cared deeply for, and who all betrayed your heart. The last one was just after you dropped out of college, right before the Avengers recruited you. After her, you swore you’d never care for anyone in that way ever again. It was just easier that way. Except, when you looked back up at the couple, you felt a heavy loneliness come over you filled with a special kind of pain.  

You looked away and your eyes caught on a woman who looked too much like Carol. You rolled your eyes before scrubbing your hands over your face. 

“Y/N?” Carol’s voice called out, causing you to tear your eyes from a spot on the sidewalk, surprise etched into your features. “I was looking for you when Sam told me you walked off, upset. He said you’d probably be here.”

“Oh,” you said quietly. 

Carol took that as an invitation to sit down next to you, allowing some space between. 

“I was looking for you because I am fed up with you avoiding me,” She stated. “I’ve been tired of it for about a while now, actually.” 

You let your eyes slide over to the woman next to you, eyeing her carefully. 

“Another reason I came looking for you is because I was worried about you,” she said softly. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Well, I’m fine,” you said far too quickly. 

“Obviously,” Carol chuckled. 

You were both quiet for a few beats too long when Carol spoke up again.

“It would be easy for me to be upset with how you’ve been treating me without acknowledging something probably happened to cause you to react like this,” she said, “So, I’ll just say this once and leave the ball in your court.” She turned her body towards yours and your body turned all on its own to face her. “It sucks that someone, or multiple someones, hurt you so badly in your past that you’ve decided to make your ‘only fuck once’ rule, all to avoid developing any sort of connection or feelings for anybody ever again. It seems like your rule to avoid connection is hurting you more than you thought it would, so I know there’s hope,” Carol stood up abruptly to stand in front of you. 

“You should be loving someone,” she finally said. “Just, fucking let yourself love someone.” 

You sat there staring at her, heart beating out of your chest because you knew she was right. You stayed silent because you were scared of how much you have already started falling for her, and you were searching for the right thing to say. 

Carol hung her head in defeat before turning to walk back down the path she came, pausing like she wanted to say something else, but changed her mind and began walking away from you. 

~

“Carol?!” You called as you walked into the common room, “Carol! Where are you?” 

“Can you stop yelling,” a gruff voice pleaded from the couch. “She’s not here.” 

“Do you know where she is?” you asked, “Buck, I need to find her.”

“I think she went to a bar,” Bucky said with a sigh, realizing he wasn’t going to be able to continue napping. 

“Thanks!” You said, running towards your room to change your clothes. 

~

You had gotten FRIDAY to disclose which bar Carol was at, and sped through New York traffic on your bike, getting there in record time. 

As you walked in, your eyes scanned the room looking for her. You walked over to the bar to ask the bartender if they’d seen her, and they pointed to the far side of the room. You looked her over, noticing how she was leaning up against the wall, talking to some gorgeous woman. It reminded you of the last time you slept together, how sexy she looked leaning up against her desk. 

The song changed to Loving Someone by the 1975, bringing you back into the present. You watched her for a moment longer, gathering your courage when she looked past the woman in front of her and locked eyes with you. A smile tugged at her lips giving you the courage you needed to close the distance. You saw her say something to the woman who waved her off before she met you halfway. 

You both stopped in the middle of the bar and she looked to you expectantly.

“You were right,” you admitted. “I made that stupid rule to try to protect my heart and I think I honestly caused it to break too many times.”

Carol raised an eyebrow, urging you to continue.

You let out a sigh, “Aaaand I like you and that scares me,” you admitted.

Carol smiled, “Well, then can I buy you a drink?” 

You shook your head, pulling the keys out of your pocket, “I’m good. You wanna go for a ride?” 

Carol’s smile stretched further over her lips and she nodded, so you took her hand and walked out of the bar.

#dani250 #carol danvers #carol danvers fanfiction #carol danvers fanfic #carol danvers x reader #carol x reader #reader insert #Captain Marvel #captain marvel fanfic #captain marvel fanfiction #the avengers #The avengers fanfiction #The Avengers fanfic #carol danvers smut

[itsanerdlife]

Cruel Boy 23/33

Pairing: Howie Stark x Reader

Warning: Lies. Betrayal. Just a lot of violence. Mentions of Domestic abuse. Parental abuse. Murder Suicide. Death. Guilt. Hate. Deception. Lots and lots of anger.

A/N: This is a bit darker theme, but Howie isn’t dark. Anger problems and bad choices but he’s not a bad person.

Playlist!!

First love. First heart break. Life time of hate. When the silver spoon feeding you love is taken away, you learn to lick it off the knives. Howie Stark broke you. Him and his brother ruined your life. Destroyed your dreams and crushed your soul. Your best friend is dead and your life is a mess. When you take a bartending job, it just happens to be owned by the Bastard Son’s MC. Just your fucking luck. Jokes, you haven’t had luck since Gwen died and Howie ripped out your barely beating heart. There is no way in hell you’re giving him a second chance. Hell will freeze over before you let him touch you again. Not a chance are you ever letting the Stark’s near you again. Hell might have just frozen over.

Tag List Open

You sat on the porch with Clint. Watching as Morgan and Baby played in the yard. Pizza was on the way for dinner. Howie and Peter hadn’t been gone more than an hour and checked in twice already. Clint sips from the beer bottle in his hand, eyes cutting towards you.

“Let me ask you something.”

“Sure.” You look over at him. Tucking a foot under you, you shift in the chair. Your other knee comes to your chest.

“How did you end up being raised by the Stark’s?” His brow comes together.

“I grew up two blocks over from here.” You nod. “Peter, Howie and I went to the same school. Long story short, but Howie and I met when we were twelve, Peter was thirteen.” You smile.

“School music room, right?” Clint smiles.

“Yeah. Found me playing this blue guitar. Well I was in that room, because it was better than going home.” You tuck a strand of hair back.

“Bad home life.” He nods.

“Dad bailed before I was even born. Mom had a serious problem.”

“Drugs?”

“No, a shitty boyfriend. Funny I followed in her footsteps.” You shake your head.

“How bad?”

“Bad enough if he couldn’t slap her around, I was the next best.”

“Still alive?” He lifts a brow.

“Ah, no. Mom decided to end it. She worked in one of the properties for the club. Tony offered us protection when he found out.” The pit in your chest opening up.

“Right. Club ways.” Clint nods.

“Her boyfriend decided, if he couldn’t have her, nobody could. Murder suicide. I was out with Howie and Peter, came home to blue lights and a dead mom.” You nod slowly.

“Tony took you in.”

“Pepper did. Sitting in the back of an ambulance, they’re talking about foster homes and CPS. Pepper comes running up, still in her night wear. Yelling how they weren’t taking me. She was. I was going home with her.” You smile softly at the memory.

“And the Stark’s raised you.” He nods a small smile on his face.

“I was thirteen when I came to officially live here. And Howie already had claim on me, and I was long past already his.” You shrug.

“Guess that never changed huh?” He smirks at you.

“Peter said it himself, it’s fated. Howie and Peter have always been what I never knew I needed. They found me when I didn’t have anyone. My world shattered and they were there, putting it back together. Hit rock bottom and bam I fall right back into their laps.” You laugh softly.

“But you left.”

“I lost too much, too quickly. Everything I never knew I needed, walked away. I didn’t have a world, a path, without them.” You look out at the yard where Morgan and Baby are lying in the grass. Morgan is giggling up a storm, Baby is panting hard.

“So it’s like, you and just one of them, right?” Clint chuckles.

“What?” You look over, a smile pushing into your cheeks.

“It’s not some weird reverse harem thing, you and two brothers, right?” He grins.

“Oh my god.” You laugh, slapping a hand over your mouth.

“Serious question. I have seen the two of them. They’re way possessive with you. You should have seen them with Brock. I mean I think I know it’s just Howie. But I got to ask.” He shrugs, grinning.

“I can barely handle one Stark. Like hell I am handling two of them. I’d kill them both.” You snort.

“Bullshit.” Your head whips to the side looking at Clint again. “You handle this whole family. You’re like the missing piece of them. Morgan has a sister, someone to look up too. Howie and Peter, they’re so different. Almost alive again. Pepper and Tony, it’s like they got their whole family, they’d been missing.” He shrugs.

“Pizza’s here.” You smile at him.

“Get peanut. I’ll get the pizza.” He chuckles, standing. 

----------- 

“Look at you boys!” Rhodey grins, pulling them into a hug.

“Hey old man.” Peter chuckles.

“Aging hard, huh?” Howie slaps him on the back.

“Still little fucks, like your father I see.” Rhodey smirks shaking his head.

“Kidding you look good.” Howie grins at him.

“Yeah. Yeah.” Rhodey rolls his eyes. Waving them after him. “Thanks for making the trip. I know it’s your folk’s anniversary. But thought we should talk about it.” They take a seat. Bucky and Frank follow.

“First. Business? Good?” Peter knocks his knuckles against the tabletop.

“Smooth. No issues. Happy customers.” Rhodey nods.

“Frank, make a call for me.” Howie looks back. Frank nods, stepping away.

“Things okay?” Rhodey smirks.

“Fine.” Howie looks up from his phone.

“Dude, it’s bath time. Breathe.” Peter shakes his head.

“Little sisters in your care while your rents are gone, huh?”

“That she is.” Peter nods.

“Not just our little sister.” Howie reminds his brother.

“Can I get you boys anything?” The three of them look up. Dark brown hair, dark eyes, tattoos and a nice smile. 

“Bring us a round, sweetheart.” Rhodey smirks. But she’s still grinning at Howie.

He just nods, going back to his phone. When she walks away, he could feel eyes on him. He glances up finding Peter smirking and Rhodey looking confused.

“What?”

“Something change back home?” Rhodey smirks, sinking back into his chair.

“Howie’s got a girl.” Peter grins.

“No shit.” 

“Oh yeah.”

“Shut up the both of you.” Howie rolls his eyes.

“Sup Frankie?” Peter chuckles, looking over his shoulder.

“Called Clint. She said to remind you she will kick your ass, and you’re an idiot.” Frank smirks. 

“She sounds hot.” Rhodey nods.

“Remember, Y/N?” Peter lifts a brow.

“Fate.” Rhodey laughs.

“Here you guys go.” The girl is back. She flashes a flirty smile at him. 

“I’m going to give you a piece of advice.” Peter leans in on the table, watching her. Howie laughs, shaking his head.

“Okay?” She looks between them, with slight confusion. 

“I would stop smiling at him. His old lady is a fucking psycho. She’s beat me up, before.” Peter nods, smiling. Rhodey inhales his drink. “So, you keep smiling at him and see they’re so meant to be together, she’s going to know and with our luck she’ll come through that door.” He points at the bar door. “And wail on you for fun.” He shrugs.

“I just, I, well,” she babbles for a moment.

“Just walk away.” Bucky laughs. She looks between them, before turning and stalking away.

“So what’s the problem you brought us here for?” Howie smirks.

“Word is, someone’s looking to hire a rouge biker for a hit job.” Rhodey sighs.

“Where? Who?”

“Your town. Put it out to a few charters.” Howie and Peter exchange a look.

“You got a name?” Howie lifts a brow.

“Jobs been claimed.” Rhodey shakes his head.

“When?” Peter asks as they both sit up.

“This morning.”

-----------------

Everything Peaches 9/3/19 @mo320​ @courtmr​ @avxgers​ @eliza-kat​ @irepeldirt​ @jordan-ia​ @jcc04220​ @dumblani​ @nishanki1​ @allyp1023​ @joannie95​ @rogvewitch​ @rileyloves5​ @sarahp879​ @sexyvixen7​ @doctoranon​ @queentoffee @abschaffer2​ @tony-stank3​ @tomhardy41​ @bookluver01​ @drayshadow

@teller258316​ @nickimarie94​ @wandressfox​ @cutekittybast​ @amandab-ftw​ @carostar2020​ @thelostallycat​ @henrietteoaks​ @nea90sweetie​ @circusofchaos​ @bettercallsabs​ @miraclesoflove​ @queenkrissy11​ @shield-agent78​ @elite4cekalyma​ @sadyoungadult​ @destiel-artemis​ @isabelcrichards​ @iwillbeinmynest​ @sweet-honey15​ @scooby-doodoo​ @chanelmadrid13​ @killerbumblebee​ @spookygrantaire​ @geeksareunique​ @supernatural508​ @itzmegaaaaaaan​ @optimistic-babes​ @elizabethaellison​ @rainbowkisses31​ @aspiringtranslator​ @mariekoukie6661​ @pure-princess-97​ @capsheadquaters​ @youclickedthislink​ @futuremrsb-r-main​ @lovemarvelousfics​ @notyourtypicalrose​ @petersunderoos96​ @loving-life-my-way​ @itsy-bitsy-spidergirl​ @buckystolemyheart​ @booktvmoviefangirl​ @thatpeachybandgirl​ @supernatural-girl97​ @thefridgeismybestie​ @eggingamazinglove​ @deathofmissjackson​ @awkwardfangirl2014​ @queenoftheunderdark​ @laneygthememequeen​ @writingaworldofmyown​ @death-unbecomes-you​ @shann-the-artist-moon​ @supernaturallover2002​ @daughterofthenight117​ @mcuwillbethedeathofme​ @verymuchclosetedfangirl​ @for-the-love-of-the-fandom​ @ocaptain-mycaptainmorgan​ @crazy-little-thing-called-buck​ @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked​ @stupendoussciencenaturepanda​ @supernatural-strangerthings-1980​

Howie 'Damn Boy' Stark: @ml7010​ @gabile18​ @crayonwriting​ @callme-barnes​ @untoasted-ravioli​ @andycanbeemotional​

CB:

@coley0823​ @csigeoblue​ @lakamaa12​ @tomhardy41​ @ms-rogers06​ @wolfiemichele​ @eridanuswave​ @tireddork-knight​ @honey-bee-holly​ @multifandomgirl-us​ @eggingamazinglove​ @badassbeckettswan​ @fandomsstolemylife00​ @jamesbarnesappreciationsociety​

#Marvel #OFC!Howie Stark x Reader #Avengers #OFC!Howie x Reader #Cruel Boy #Marvel Fanfiction #OFC!Howie Stark Series #Avengers Fanfiction #OFC!Howie Series

[yikeswtfmate]

Trouvaille

Trouvaille (n.) a valuable discovery, or a lucky find; something lovely discovered by chance

Summary: Bucky stumbles upon a dingy bar in Brooklyn, turning his world upside down.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: swearing

A/N: Super fluffy piece! I’m so excited about this, every second of it has been an absolute pleasure. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did writing it!

masterlist

It’s another Wednesday night that Bucky spends in a seemingly random bar in Brooklyn. But nothing is random about this bar – although, granted, it was at first. Now, James Buchanan Barnes can be found in this bar once a week without fail (which in all honesty should be a miracle considering what his job is), whether it’s a Monday (when only a few sad men swallow their misery in tall glasses of beer), or a Thursday (his favourite, because at 10 o’clock on the dot the bartender plays that song that he used to love so much in another life), or a Saturday (which he hates the most because it’s crowded and he can’t really have a proper conversation). The bar is nothing much – the same floor that however many times it’s cleaned it’s still a little bit sticky, there’s the smell of stale booze that oozes out from the upholstery and the customers only give him a cursory glance when he walks in and takes his usual stool right at the farthest corner of the bar.

He discovered this bar one night when he was tired of wandering the streets of Brooklyn after a long day of restlessness. He couldn’t sit still in the Avengers Tower, and although he tried sparring with Nat, or playing poker with Sam and Tony, or even tried his hand at chess again with Steve, he just couldn’t stop feeling fidgety. So he just up and went for a stroll through the emptying streets until he ended up in Brooklyn. He noticed the neon sign above the door, one of the clover’s leaves flickering on and off in the darkness. He decided to take a seat when he heard the music – low notes of a song long forgotten dancing between whispers and shouts, the singer’s voice too sweet for the rough hands that were clutching their bottles.

He stayed for the most radiant laughter that filled his ears, folding over and around the song. He stayed for the bright eyes that met his when he asked for a beer of his own; for the smile that tugged at delicate lips; for the raised eyebrow that ascertained recognition. He normally would have pulled his baseball cap lower over his eyes, but he didn’t want to obstruct his view. He wanted to see her fully, to bask in the marvel that this woman in front of him was.

The first words she said to him were of mockery, laughing at his weak attempt at a disguise, and after six months of knowing her, he’s still surprised at how easy it is to be around her. How easy it is to banter, to make fun of the other, to always be able to cheer him up, regardless of how deep his rage might be, to not expect anything more than to just be.

Now it’s another night that Bucky spends at the dingy bar, watching Y/N pour shots for the hen party that’s taking place for whatever reason on a Wednesday. He’s been in a foul mood all evening, and she’s been trying to give him some space, but as she wipes her hands on a damp towel, she huffs and saunters over to him.

“Ok, big guy. Tell me what’s up with you today.” Y/N demands, but Bucky doesn’t answer at first. She leans down, trying to catch his eyes as he lowers his gaze towards the bottle he’s been nursing for an hour already. “You know I hate it when I can’t see your pretty smile, baby.” She tries again. “Come on, Sarge, I won’t be seeing you for another week after tonight, give me something to swoon over until next time.”

He finally smiles, even if for a fraction. He looks back up at her and she notices the dark circles under his eyes. She knows he doesn’t usually sleep well, but he seems even more exhausted than last week. There’s something bugging him that’s enough to keep him from flirting and laughing at her stupid jokes, as he would do.

“Penny for your thoughts?” She offers.

“How about a kiss, doll?” Which is definitely more than she could get out of him all night, but still not the full force of the charm that he normally displays.

“My, mister Barnes, you sure know how to bewitch a girl, don’t you?” There’s a pause in their conversation as she goes about serving a man in a suit that must’ve probably just gotten out of a huge fight with his partner, considering the distraught look.

“Come on, Buck. Tell me what’s up. I ain’t leaving until you tell me what’s wrong.”

“You still have two more hours to work.” He points out.

“Which means I’m super dedicated to the cause if I’m willing to not lose my job by just walking out to prove a point.”

He sighs but at least offers her a small smile in return. Shaking his head, he takes a sip of his beer, knowing from experience that although she can give him space whenever he needs it, he always finds that he feels better after sharing his thoughts with her.

“Just been having a shitty week, that’s all, doll. The last mission was rather…challenging.” He says, memories of too many bodies scattered on a cold slaughterhouse floor in front of his eyes. There are not many things he’d shy away from telling her, but sometimes he feels the need to avoid giving her the grimy details.

Y/N nods in silence, and after a few seconds of watching him closely, she places her hand on top of his right one that was resting on the bar top. He moves his palm upwards in order to hold hers, lifting it towards his lips and placing a soft kiss on a knuckle. She squeezes his fingers for a second but doesn’t let go. He needs the contact, of that she is more than certain, and however much she’d like to deny her affection for him, this sullen man sneaked his way around her veins, slipped between the cracks of her ribs, and nestled himself in a corner of her heart, filling her lungs with sunshine and camellias without her even noticing.

“Well, I’d say beer is a good start to drown your sorrows in.” She notes, trying to make light, drawing him out of the dark place he likes to curl into.

She pulls back her hand, all the while Bucky wishing she’d just stay there in front of him, keeping her hand in his and just looking at each other.

“I can also offer you some salted peanuts as well.” She says, disappearing under the bar, throwing food and alcohol on the top as she keeps on talking. “Might find some pretzels as well, if only I can find where Cody keeps putting them under this goddamn – aha!” Another colourful bag surfaces and Bucky tries to catch it without smashing anything in his way. “Oh! I might even find his secret stash of chocolate if I look hard enough!” Her eyes appear over the countertop, a mischievous glint that Bucky enjoys but always treats with caution. “Would that make you feel better?”

“I’ve already told you that a kiss would be enough, baby.” He winks, already feeling some of the tension easing out of his muscles.

“Now, now, James. This is no way of treating a lady. What would the village say if I were to fall into your arms without you properly courting me?”

Bucky tilts his head to the side, narrowing his eyes. She shifts under his gaze, but can admit that it melts her from inside out.

“Is that what you want, doll? A proper courtship?” His voice is low but even with music playing and patrons shouting around them, she feels as if he whispered those words into her ear. She shudders, making his lips slowly tug up at one end.

“Bucky, you’re supposed to tell me what you want so you can feel better.”

“I said I wanted a kiss, but you keep refusing me, baby.” A frown. “So I’ll just settle for walking you home tonight, what do you say?”

“Silly goose.” She laughs, although she’s only half listening to him as she is pouring a draught beer to a customer next to him. “You’ve been walking me home for the past three months, I don’t see how tonight would be any different.”

Bucky smiles softly when she sends him a wink distractedly. There are pauses in their conversation, sentences and questions scattered across two hours as the patrons of the bar order their last drinks and prepare to head home. Midnight comes and goes, and Bucky loses himself in memories of nights spent in the bar, just so he could be in her company, even if for only a few hours. Tonight’s the night, he decides, there have been too many silent queries in her eyes, too many touches that bordered on delicate caresses, too many smiles hiding secrets that could bloom into something else, something more that he so desperately has been longing for.

It was easier to not want more from life before he met her. He was content with just surviving from day to day, never asking for more, never believing he deserved more. The way he saw it, it should have been his atonement for the years of pain and suffering he had inflicted. Never knowing more than completing the missions he was sent on, eradicating as much as possible of the evil that existed in the world, trying to tip the scales at least a fraction before he’d have to finally rest, regardless of how soon that would come. Until Bucky met Y/N, which turned his world upside down. He found himself more careful, less inclined to charge head first into any situation that might bring him certain death. Now he had someone to come back to, someone who would bring him back from the dead just so she could give him a good scolding.

He's been more than careful not to let any of his friends near her, except for Natalia, of course. Y/N mentioned one time her thoughts on the Black Widow being the most amazing woman to ever grace the Earth, so he decided to surprise her one night. It wasn’t a tough choice to make, her ecstatic expression and her giddiness were enough to make him smile all night, although he had to give up her attention completely in favour of the redhead. After that, Nat would sometimes accompany him, having taken a liking to “Barnes’ cute bartender,” but neither of them would give any more to the others, much to their collective chagrin. But Bucky was relentless in refusing to subject her to their teasing and intensity, and he was grateful Nat respected his wish.

One night he asked her to dance with him in the middle of the dingy bar. It was the first time she played that song he loved so much, a soft melody that waved around their bodies as he shifted her closer and closer to him until she finally rested her head on his shoulder. He felt the sigh that escaped her lips and kissed the top of her head with his eyes closed.

Another night he came in bruised and battered after a particularly difficult mission, having escaped from the Med bay as soon as he was allowed, his first thought upon waking up being of her. The moment she saw him, she rounded the bar, inspecting him from head to toe and pinched his ear, which was probably the only part of him that wasn’t hurting at that moment. She shouted at him and cursed him, accusing him of being a “reckless wet sock,” all the while he was laughing at her reaction, even though the worry in her eyes made his heart expand like batter in the oven. That was the first time she made him promise he’ll stop putting himself in danger or she’ll never forgive him, a hand over his purple cheek, her thumb stroking over the tender skin. With a kiss to the inside of her wrist, he promised, having realised he would forever do anything she would ask of him.

While she is closing the bar, Bucky wonders yet again how would his life look like if he would just give up his duties as an Avenger, and follow his heart for once. He wonders whether that would be selfish, throwing away the possibilities unleashed by the serum flowing through his body, turning his back to the injustices of the world without a second thought, just so he could wake up with Y/N in his arms every morning.

“You’re thinking too much again and that only leads to trouble.” Her voice startles him from his musings, a poke to his ribs for good measure.

They start walking in silence for a few blocks, the city asleep around them. Y/N waits for him to speak, knowing from experience that it’s better to give him time until he’s ready to say whatever’s on his mind.

“Do you ever wish to…give everything up and start again?” He asks.

“I guess being a bartender isn’t anyone’s dream job.” She concedes. “I’d love to write more, but that won’t pay my bills. Giving everything up and starting again would just work in theory, wouldn’t it, though? There will always be a part of you that stays with you forever, no matter how much you try to hide it, so in my opinion it’s better to just accept it and move on.” A few more steps in silence. “You should stop blaming yourself, Buck. It wasn’t your fault. Accept it and move on. I’m not judging you for anything you’ve done while you were…you know. You’re here now and I love the person that you are now, so that’s all that matters to me.”

Bucky stops in his tracks, watching her in utter stupor. They’ve discussed what happened, but never at great lengths, because Bucky was too afraid he’ll repulse her into avoiding him. She’s never shared her thoughts on the matter, at least not this openly.

Y/N turns back when she notices he’s not in step with her anymore. She extends her arm, offering her hand and he takes it, interlacing their fingers together.

“You’re kind, and sweet, and funny, and although you’re a fucking idiot who has no sense of self-preservation, I care about you deeply, Buck. And it’s not just the fact that you’re the most gorgeous man I’ve ever met, even though it sure is a big plus to be this easy on the eye.” She laughs. “It’s breaking my heart to see you beating yourself up time and time again for something that is not your fault. I want you to see yourself through my eyes and realise that you deserve all the happiness in the world, and that you’re loved so much – ”

Y/N’s words die in her throat. Hands in her hair, pulling at heart strings, soft caresses of his tongue, the taste of beer, camellias bursting her chest open, arms around his neck, long strands of hair tickling her fingers, a sense of coming home, a sigh escaping lips, the tug of a smile, and foreheads pressed to each other, love weaving in and around their pulsing veins.

“I’ve wanted to do this for a while.” He admits.

“It took you too much for my liking.”

A whisper on his lips as Bucky kisses her again – more, forever, I promise.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes

[of-a-chaotic-mind]

Territorial

Summary: Some broad tries to move in on your man after you’ve had a few too many drinks.

TW/CW: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader. Alcohol. Swearing. Fist fighting type stuff.

Requested?: No

Word Count: 1,034

A/N: I’m scheduling out posts so that you all still get some content while I’m away. For now, I’m going to just do prompts but I’ll try to come up with two more parts to Just Like A Stark sometime this week. So yeah, hope you all enjoy! Love y’all!

Your POV

   The Stark charity party is in full swing. Nat, Wanda, and I have been dancing around and having drinks. Lord only knows where the men have gotten to. I tug Nat onto the dance floor again and sway my hips to the song. We dance for a couple more songs before returning to the bar for vodka shots.

   Wanda knocks back three shots and Nat shows her up with 5. I laugh before ordering 7, “Ladies, be prepared to lose.” The bartender sets out my shots and I knock them all down in a row. My throat has lost all feeling by this point of the night. The girls’ cheers have died down and Wanda tugs my arm. I look up from having my head in my hands and follow her line of sight.  

   A tall, busty, blonde in a too short silver dress is making her way over to Bucky. I rest my chin on Wanda’s shoulder and ask, “What’s she thinking?”  

   Wanda concentrates for a second before turning to me with eyes wide, “She thinks she can get her hands on him now that you’re not around.”

   I raise my eyebrow but even in my wasted delirium I know to give Bucky a chance to get rid of her himself. Nat tries to push me towards them but I stay put. She looks at me confused, “Aren’t you going to go protect your territory?”

   I shake my head, “Give him a chance to take care of it. I don’t want to start a scene.” The girls continue their observing in silence. The blonde is getting closer and closer now that she’s introduced herself. Soon, she’s standing right beside him with her chest pressed against his side and running her hands up his chest. Bucky says something to Steve that I have to get Nat to translate from lip reading, “Apparently ignoring her won’t work.”

   He turns to the chick and pushes her off of him. However, she’s persistent. She moves closer and wraps her arms around his neck. I draw the line when she tries to kiss him and he narrowly avoids it. I squeeze past Nat and Wanda and march over to the scene of the crime. I walk up and yank the girl away from Bucky. It isn’t hard to do because she is in stiletto heels and I in my combat boots have better balance. She turns to me with a nasty glare across her face. She is a good foot taller than me but I square my shoulders and stand my ground anyway.  

   “What do you want, you little brat?” she spits.  

   I smile sadistically, “Just taking out the trash. It smells a little skanky in here don’t you think?” She is fuming with rage but I pretend to not notice, “Back off from my man or I’ll leave you in pieces.”

   She huffs but doesn’t leave, “You’re just mad that I am hotter and taller than you and could have your man easily if he wasn’t so scared of you.”  

   I circle her like a lion stalking prey. She realizes too late to not let me behind her and I dead leg her. She falls as Nat and Wanda laugh. I walk up to Bucky and kiss his cheek before wrapping my arms around his waist. Out of habit he wraps his arm around my shoulders but whispers to me, “Don’t do anything stupid, (y/n).”  

   By now blondie has gotten off her butt and stands staring at me, “You listen here, you little bitch. I could rip you to shreds. Now give me what I came for, damnit.”

   I laugh and tilt my head at her, “Listen honey, I could take you down in a heartbeat and you wouldn’t even see it coming. He’s taken so fuck off.” She still doesn’t leave so I crack my knuckles before looking to Bucky with, “I’m sorry,” written on my face. I turn back just as she reaches to pull my hair and catch her wrist. I twist it and throw her over my shoulder. She lands with a painful thump and I dust my hands off, “Lightning quick reflexes trump height, Sweetheart. Now, do you finally get the memo or do I need to actually break some bones?” She gets up and finally storms off.

   I walk back over to Bucky and he pulls me into a hug. The crowd that had gathered to watch the catfight, disperses and the party resumes. Nat and Wanda have disappeared to their boyfriends. Bucky pulls me in tighter and whispers in my ear, “I can’t decide if I want to scold you for causing a scene or praise you for being such a badass.” I pull him closer but don’t say anything. He gets the hint and pulls me towards a quieter area.

   Once we have gotten away from the noise and sat down, he looks at me in concern, “What’s wrong, doll?”

   I look down at my hands and pick at my nails as I mumble, “I thought I almost lost you.”

   He chuckles softly, “Doll, you have my heart. I don’t think I could get it back even if I wanted to.”

   I look up at him and smile, “Thank you. Thank you for always loving me and me only. Thank you for putting up with my territory issues.”

   He laughs softly, “You seem to be extra lovey dovey tonight.”

   I smack his shoulder but suddenly am hit with a wave of nausea. I run towards the trash can and barely make it. I empty my stomach into the can. It doesn’t hold much, just all the peanuts and liquor I had consumed in the past three hours. Bucky waits patiently as he rubs my back and holds my hair out of the way. When I am finally done, I wipe my face with a napkin and look at Bucky with a look that says, “I don’t feel good,” and, “I’m sleepy,” all in one.

   He tilts his head, “Time for bed?”

   I nod, “I think I may be slightly more drunk than I thought.”

  He laughs as we head for our bedroom to clean up and hit the hay.

Masterlist

Taglist:

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes imagines #winter soldier #winter soldier imagine #winter soldier imagines #avengers #avengers imagine #avengers imagines #marvel #marvel imagine #marvel imagines #prompt writing #writing prompt #imagine #imagines

[duuhrayliegh]

i would LOVE a part two to consequences where she tells her husband she actually has a date and he’s lowkey bothered and then on the date bucky is treating her like an absolute gentleman and is so enamoured by her like omg and then end the date with a cute little kiss

consequences part two coming tomorrow. 11 AM CST.

catch up with bucky & peanut here!!

part two posted now!!!

#bucky x reader #sebastian stan #bartender!bucky x reader #bartender!bucky barnes x you #bucky x peanut #bartender!bucky x peanut!reader #bucky barnes fic rec #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x y/n

[buckyswinterchildren]

Where Do We Go (Part 2)

Bucky Barnes x Reader [AU!]

Summary: Bucky and you both know what it feels like to be alone and you come to meet when he moves to your town; two souls looking for their happiness and their place in this world.

Words: 1531

A/N: Thank you all of you who has given the first chapter of this series a chance. I really appreciate your comments, your likes. I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Tags: @supersoldierslover @flaipa @barnesandnoble13 @amrita31199 @winterboobears  @m-a-t-91 @winters-beauty

Masterlist of the series

(Credits to the owner of the gif.)

Monday night. 

As usual, at the beginning of the week, the bar is almost empty. Just five tables out of the forty are occupied right now. Two girls in one of the corner, a couple eating fried potatoes in the other,  a guy who seems to be waiting for others to arrive, two men in their forties near the front door of the bar, and four friends on another one.

In the counter, two men are sit with their drinks in hand. You are giving your back to them as you are arranging the glasses according to their size.

Monday nights are one of your favourite days of the week because you can actually hear the music that plays in the background. The guitars, the drums, the bass. Otherwise, all the voices would cover the sound that comes out from the speakers.

As soon as you turn around, you can see that someone new is on the counter. You recognize him immediately. “Hey, I didn´t know it was you, James.”

“Hi,” he answers, smiling to you. “I didn´t know you work here.”

“Yes,” you check your clock and then continue: “until a few more minutes I am your bartender. So, how can I help you?”

“Just give me a beer,” Bucky says as he intertwins his fingers. “Whichever you prefer.”

You move your mouth to your right, thinking. “Do you like red ale?” you ask as you look at the beer taps behind you.

“I do.” 

“Red ale it is, then.” You take one of the glasses you were arranging some minutes ago, put it down the tap and wait until the glass is full. “Here you have.”

“Thanks,” Bucky says, smiling at you again.

“How was your first week at the house?” you ask him, without thinking if you are actually bothering him. When you do realize it, you bite your lip.

To your surprise, Bucky answers you gently. “Fine. It is a nice neighbourhood, for what I´ve seen these days.”

“It is; I lived there my whole life and people are really nice. And, I should not be saying this since we sell them here, but just two blocks from where you live there is this place that sells the best fried potatoes of this city.”

Bucky laughs and it is the very first time you see him laughing. “Well, thank you, now I know where to go. I can come here with the fries bought already.”

“I promise I won´t say a thing if I see you eating them in here. My silence for a fried potato.  Although I recommend you do it on Fridays or on weekend days; there are much more people and no one will notice it.”

“You would be good doing market studies,” Bucky jokes after he drinks from his glass. “Are you here every day?”

“You want a discount, uh?” Before you keep talking, the younger man on the counter interrupts you.

“Sorry,” he calls you as he leans on the counter. “Can you give me more peanuts?”

“Sure!” you say as you look at him. “Wait a minute,” you tell Bucky. 

You take the bowl that is in front of the man and fill it with more peanuts. “Here you have,” you hand in the bowl with a smile.

“Thank you.”

Meanwhile, Bucky was watching you as you did your work and as you return to where he is. “What I was telling y-? Oh, I remember. I am here from Monday to Friday, only. But the rest of the bartenders are just as cool as me, so come whenever you want.”

You feel a hand on your shoulder an you turn around. “They are not going to pay you more for being here more minutes,” Pietro jokes as he kisses your forehead and puts on the black apron.

“Hey! W- What time is it?” You see that you should have already left the bar. You look at Bucky and ask him: “do you want me to fill your glass before I leave?” 

“No, it´s fine. Just go. Thanks.”

“Ok. Thank you for letting me talk to you.” You untie your apron. “Now I will leave you alone and in peace. Bye, James. Have a nice week.”

“Bye, Y/N. You too.”

Fifteen minutes before you leave, Bucky leaves the bar too. “Bye, man,” he says to Pietro, who was cleaning the counter.

“Bye. Have a nice day,” Pietro answers and keeps doing the cleaning.

As Bucky approaches the front door of the bar, a new song starts playing and he recognizes it. His little brother plays it all the time. What was its name? He does not remember now, he just now it is a Noel Gallagher´s song.

For the first time since he got in the bar, his mind goes back to his family, to New York, the place where he lived all his life until a week ago. To his old life, or the one that he is trying to forget, or change, or fix, if possible.

Back there, Bucky was always surrounded by people, either by friends or coworkers. And now, here he is, walking alone the streets of this new city towards his new house.

Streets and blocks that he barely knows. 

Tonight, he decided to get out of the house and explore the surroundings. He put on his leather jacket and started to walk the places he supposes, one day, will be familiar. 

After walking for about twenty minutes, he found himself in front of a luminous bar. As it has huge glass windows, he could see the inside and decided to get in since it was a desert. The antithesis of the nights spent outdoors in New York City. 

And right now, all he needed was that: a quiet, or almost quiet place.

Of course he was not expecting to find you, the only person he has had contact with since his arrival. 

He is glad he decided to get out of his house and forget about his problems for a while.

“Too much caffeine will kill you.” 

You turn around as you drink from the purple mug to see that Maria is walking into the kitchen. “It seems I get stronger throughout the years. It hasn´t  even caused me an anxiety attack.”

Maria takes a mug from the cupboard and starts preparing her tea. “Lucky you. I hate it since college. I thought it was going to become my friend, but no. Every time I drunk it, I ended up worse.”

You lean on one of the walls, the one that has the only window of the room, and take a look at the scenery beneath you. 

“Hey,” Maria changes the topic of conversation and you turn your head to look at her. “How is everything with your house? I remembered it this morning.” The noise of the spoon against the mug can be heard as she swirls the liquid.

“Great! He arrived like a week ago and-?”

“He?! Is there just one person living in that house?” 

“Yeah. I know that it´s too big for just one person, I am the clear example of that, but I don´t know, I am no one to judge his tastes. Maybe he likes living in a huge house by his own.”

“Or maybe he is in something weird.”

“What?” You laugh at Maria´s commentary. “Like what? Like doing drugs? Yeah, maybe I am the landlord of the new Walter White,” you answer, sarcastically.  “No, he seems a reliable person.”

“Is he from here?”

“No.” You leave the mug on the table before taking a sit. “He comes from New York. Maybe the universe sent him to me so I can ask him about it.”

“You can do like those reality shows in which you exchange houses with another person for a while. It would be a good deal to you.”

“Don´t even tell me. I cannot wait to go to there.”

“Do you know when you can be going?”

“Well... if I am optimistic, maybe in six or seven months. I really thank Pietro for having told me that they were looking for a bartender. If not, the money I gain as a secretary in this place wouldn´t have been enough.”

“I am happy for you. But I am gonna miss you here. Who else am I going to laugh about all these lawyers with? I should make a casting for your replacement.”

“I bet you would do it.”

“Have you seen apartments in New York?”

“Yeah. I am looking for cheap apartments but it is hard to find one that I can afford. I am seriously thinking about being in a hotel for a time. I have a whole notebook dedicated only to my plans for New York. I write down everything: what I need, the prices of the apartments, the different subways and the combinations. Everything.”

“As you said, maybe destiny sent you this man to help you with all those details.”

“I should get closer to James then,” you tell Maria as you smile, not without thinking about the possibility of him helping you. 

Yes, you definitely need to get closer to James.

If you want to be tagged, tell me!

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #marvel fanfiction #marvel imagine #marvel writing

[ohmcrvel]

Whiskey on Ice

masterlist

Summary: when a highly trained assassin and a mind reader make a plan to get you drunk so you admit your feelings it all goes better than planned

Note:This is shit, I'm tired, full of writer's block and wanting Mcdonalds so I hope you enjoy

Pairings: Bucky x Reader, Nat x Wanda x reader (platonic)

Warnings: good ass drunkness, angst, swearing, fluff ❤️

old classics played through the speakers, bartenders wiped down glasses while their customers nibbled on peanuts as the buzz of the night began.

You sat awkwardly in the old leather booth looking around the pub, your eyes taking in the hanging pictures and pierced dartboard as a sigh left your lips while your fingers tangled in each other rubbing against your skin trying to calm your nerves.

Shrugging off your jacket you turned to place it next to you, instead, you spotted a smiling Nat and Wanda who were carrying drinks in there hands as they walked over to your table

"Cheer up (y/n)! It's girls night!" Wanda sag out placing the drinks on the table and began sitting next to you

"Yeah and we've got enough alcohol for you to drown whatever sorrows you have in" Nat joked while placing her drinks around the edge of the table

"I don't know guys, I don't feel like drinking" you mumbled while looking at the many glasses in front of you only to greeted with glares from the girls

"Okay fine! But not a lot." You laughed while picking up shot, clinking the glasses together as cheers escaped your smiling lips, this should be interesting.

2 hours later and you were 10 shots down while the taste of 3 pints of beer still lingered on your lips as a glass of whiskey on ice was lazily covered by your fingers as casual conversation soon flew out of the window as soon as the whiskey dripped down your throat

"It's complete bullshit." you angrily proclaimed while slamming the now empty glass on the oak table

"Whats bullshit." Wanda sincerely questioned, even though they both knew what was up

"I dress up, I smile, I make conversation, I sometimes flirt! plus, I respect his boundaries! and all I get is bullshit in return." groaning as the words left your lips as the memories of the past couple of months filled your mind,

"ah, Bucky." Nat acknowledged with a nod while sliding another drink towards your hands

"Ugh god even his names hot goddammit." you cursed under your breath while taking the cool glass into your hand, tipping the contents into your throat

"Well why don't you tell him how you feel," Wanda suggested with a smile as she grabbed your hand

"Wanda, sweetie. You maybe be able to do all that cool mind magic but explaining feelings to man isn't that easy for most girls." you patted her hand while smiling int her confused eyes while reaching over to grab another drink,

" I may have a way you can" Nat slyly added while taking a sip of her drink

"What you suggesting Romanoff." a grin sneaked out of the corner of the glass pressed to your lips

" Well this is the loosest I've seen you about your feelings towards buck in a while, so why don't you get a few more drinks down the hatch I'm sure you'll be able to walk right into the boys gathering and give him a piece of your mind.." she grinned while leaning towards you

"I like what your spitting... ANOTHER ROUND!" you yelled while rasing your glass

To say you were drunk was a simple way to put it, you had given your jacket to nat and your black stilettos hung over your wrist as you swayed your way into the common room flipping your hair behind your shoulders straightening out your dress smiling at two chuckling girls behind you.

The boys were all crowded around the tv watching whatever the hell was on, your bare feet glided along the laminate floor as you made your way to them,

"Barnes! We need to talk, now." You yelled while looking at the shocked man who suddenly got up from his slumping position on the sofa looking at you as he placed his beer on the coffee table,

"Uh um okay? Do wanna go somewhere priv-" he mumbled, blushing at the sight of you before getting cut off by your voice

"Enough talking." you interrupted while placing your hand on his shoulder

"Sit, shut up and listen," you growled while pushing him back onto the sofa

"(y/n) you're a little drunk maybe you should sit down."  Steve said quietly while placing his hand on your shoulder

"Same rules apply to you Steve, to all of you." twisting his arm you shoved him back onto the sofa while glaring at the rest of the team before turning to face Bucky,

"Now I may be little drunk, I may be a little tried but one thing I am not is a fool." you angrily stated while glaring at the man,

"I am sick of tired of you ignorance Bucky! How hard does a girl have to work to get your attention!" your shoulders stiffened  as you face tensed while anger took over your body, but Bucky could the sadness in your eyes

"Sure, I don't rub your bicep while I'm talking to you like most girls at the bar." your fingers whirled along his arm as his breath hitched.

" I don't whisper something dirty into your ear as I pass you my number," leaning you your nibbled his ear as you mouth brushed against his skin, Nat and Wanda laughed at the sight of Buckys flustered face,

" and I sure don't laugh at your stupid ass jokes and run my hand down my chest just so you can fuck me just for the night!" throwing your head back as a flirty giggle escaped your pink lips while your hand swiftly danced down your chest stroking the edge of your dress

"and why you might ask?" you purred while placing your hands on his thighs gazing into his eyes

" its because I'm not some fucking slag who just want your dick Barnes!" you yelled while slapping the side of his head.

"Because  I'm head of heels in love with you! Like Simba and Nala in love! and I'm not gonna wait until you run off to live with a meerkat and a warthog in the forest to realise that I do!" You moaned as a frown crossed you lips while Bucky looked at you with a loving gaze along with a smile

" I understand that I'm not attractive in anyway shape or form but I can't help that Barnes, just like I can't help my emotions, so, either you let me down gently or become a meany like Scar." your voice was quiet know as you sat down on the floor waiting for Bucky to break your drunken heart.

"Doll, first off you need to learn how to handle your drink." he smiled while bending down as his hand gently grabbed your chin,

" And secondly, I'm sorry for making you feel this way (y/n), I was... I was confused about everything, but confusion is part of it, that's how you know somethings there. I just didn't want to say anything as I was scared that you would freak out! But I guess it just took Nat and Wanda to get you drunk so you would admit you loved me, and I love you too." His confession was everything you wished for as you suddenly grabbed his smiling face and kissed him.

Bucky could still taste the whiskey on your soft lips while his hand roamed down your back as you gripped his hair pulling him as close as humanly possible causing his scruff to rub against your cheeks earning a moan from both of you.

"Well drunk (y/n)'s very sexual," Tony stated as the rest of the left the common room,

Breaking the kiss as both you gasped for air while he rested his forehead on yours,

"So... you wanna get a drink sometime?" You purred while smirking at Bucky

"I think you've had enough tonight but maybe another time." He chuckled while tucking your loose hair behind your ear.

And that night a drunk (y/n) and a beaming Bucky snuggled up and watched Lion King in each other's arms humming along to the lyrics as Bucky smiled at the taste of whiskey still lingering on his lips.

#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky imagine #bucky x y/n #bucky x reader #the winter solider x reader #tony stark #Sebastian Stan #steve rodgers imagine #bucky fluff #bucky fanfic #marvel #steve x you #steve x bucky #masterlist #marvel fluff #marvel fanfiction #bucky marvel #bucky barnes imagine #peter imagine #peter x reader #bucky x tony #sebastian stan x you #chris evans #fanfic #captain america x reader #steve rogers #peter parker #the winter solider imagine

[theycallmepeep]

Dad Jokes (Steve X Reader)

The 1st of May 2016

That's when your little bundle of love, arrived. Steve had been waiting impatiently for 9months to see what (Baby's Name) looked like.

She/He had Steve's stunning blue eyes and your (H/C) hair. It was the perfect combination.

You wondered if he/she had gotten any powers; Since it ran in the family. But Bruce said it was too early to tell.

Steve was such a good father. He constantly asked you if you were okay or always tending to the baby's needs. He absolutely loved feeding (Baby's Name). He would wake up at night when your little boy/girl cried and would tell you to stay in bed.

He finally had a family, growing up he didn't have the best.

You were brushing little (Baby's name) teeth, when Steve walked in with a smile plastered on his face. You lifted a brow at his excitement.

"What time did the man go to the dentist?" Steve asked, eyes gleaming,

"What?" You were beyond confused. He giggled. He actually fucking giggled. "Tooth-thirty." He burst out into laughter, making your child do the same.

~•~

Bucky had offered you a lifesaver, because your baby had puked, and it would help with nausea you were getting.

You popped one in your mouth, thanking him. Then Steve came in the room. You both look at him.

"Did you hear about the guy who invented lifesavers? They say he made a mint." Once again he burst into fits of laughter.

~•~

You were preparing ham and cheese sandwiches, the family (And Bucky) were going on a picnic.

You hummed to yourself, packing the things neatly. Then Steve appears again.

"A ham sandwich walks into a bar and orders a beer. Bartender says, 'Sorry we don't serve food here.'"

He chucked and pumped his fist in the air, you simply rolled your eyes.

~•~

Usually, shopping with Steve was fun. Grocery shopping was something else now. You had to get diapers, baby food, fruits, baby powder and all that stuff.

It had come to a total of 300$ worth of grocery. You had paid and the cashier started packing the items.

"Would you like the milk in a bag, sir?" The cashier politely asked. "No! Keep it in the carton!" He laughs and high fives himself. Fucking high fives himself.

You gape at his idiocy. You were pissed at this point, there's a line for everything.

~•~

The Avengers took a vacation to Clint's farm. It was wonderful. They had horses, cows, pigs, sheep, and chickens.

The baby was fast asleep, inside. You helped put around the farm because, hey, it's the least you could do. You cleaned out the chicken coop, Steve came and helped you. You thought it was sweet until...

"Why do chicken coops only have two doors? Because if they had four, they would be chicken sedans!" He once again laughs aloud.

"Steve. This is getting out of hand," you gritted. He just kept laughing and gave you a gentle pat on the shoulder,

•~•

You're toddler finally learned how to speak. And being the growing boy/girl she/he was, (toddlers name) ate a lot.

"Mdaddy, daddy!" (Toddlers name) tried to get her dads attention; he was watching the game.

"What sweetie?" He asked taking him/her in his arms.

"Make me a sammich!" You're little boy/girl shouted

Steve grinned. He had that look on his face. "Steve don’t." You scolded, from the other end of the couch. He opened his mouth. "Don't you dare," you glared.

"Poof, you're a sandwich."

He chuckles madly, your daughter/son was getting impatient.

~•~

You thought it be a good idea to go horseback riding, on vacation, just you and Steve. It's romantic, a ride through the calm woods for a few hours.

You were both tacking up, Steve had picked out a brown thoroughbred, that went by the name of Cassidy. You picked out a (color)(favorite breed).

Steve had placed the saddle pad and western saddle already, he was halfway through the process of putting the bridle on when he piped up.

"Why did the Clydesdale give the pony a glass of water? Because he was a little horse!"

He started laughing, the horse tried to pull away,

~•~

You had the perfect idea for little (Toddlers name)'s birthday. A Disney themed party, with all of the Avengers.

You looked around the house, looking for Steve. He was laying on the couch, with your little boy/girl, fast asleep on his chest. You grinned and sat beside him. "Hey, so I've been thinking..." You started. He immediately shoots back. "I thought I smelled something burning." He chuckled quietly, his chest moving up and down.

~•~

Little (toddlers name) was sick. Which meant, snot everywhere.

Steve was in the middle of helping him/her blow their nose, when he said.

"How do you make a Kleenex dance? Put a little boogie in it!"

~•~

Steve was reading the morning paper, you were buttering peanut butter on toast for the little one. "We're running out of peanut butter." You stated.

"Well, we will have to get some." He concluded, flipping through the pages.

"What's on the news?" You started the conversation.

"Two peanuts were walking down the street. One was a salted." He started laughing pushing his glasses to the bridge of his nose.

~•~ You guys were at church. Strange right? Anyways, it was something that had to do with spirits and stuff, which both interested you guys. So why not go for a lecture.

He pasture was in the middle of talking about holy water when Steve whispered into your ear.

"How do you make holy water? You boil the hell out of it."

You simply glared at him. He had a huge smile, trying to not burst into laughter.

~•~

Your kid had arrived from school and was happy. "Look dad! Look, mom, I got an A+!" He/she said excitedly. You congratulated them, being the adult. Steve chuckled and says. "You're a fart smella, oops, I mean a smart fella!" He laughs and ruffles your daughters/sons hair.

-Adele

[jobean12-blog]

Top Shelf: Chapter 15- Binding Love

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader (Bookshop/Bartender/Baker AU)

Word Count: 1,894

Summary: You finally start to get things moving and it’s all so exciting and then something even more magical happens...

Author’s Note: Hi again loves! Happy Monday! I hope everyone is doing well! I hope you enjoy this chapter, it made me really happy to write it. The macaron place the reader is referring to is called La Maison Du Macaron and you can visit the sit here so delish! Thank you for your continued support and love, it means everything and I know I say it every damn time but you all rock, thanks for reading and much love always ❤❤❤

Warnings: Fluffy fun, happy fluff, soft fluff, FLUFF explosion! yay! :)

Top Shelf Masterlist (all the previous chapters can be found here :)

“You ok baby?” Your question startles Bucky from his thoughts and he looks at you with a soft smile. “Yea. I am. Thank you beautiful.” With your fingers entwined you walk down the street, your arms swinging and your hearts lighter. “Now I’m just thinking…where do we start”? You hum in agreement, lightly skipping in front of him and twirling yourself around.

“Well. We have to call Tony and tell him we’re in. So, we’ll do that first thing on Monday. And he might be a good person to ask on what to do next.” Bucky watches as you continue dancing yourself down the street, lightly jogging to catch up and twirl you around again. “Good idea,” he says before kissing you, his fingers buried in your hair and your hands clinging to his shirt.

“Bucky, we’re really gonna do this aren’t we?” You whisper the question against his lips, eyes still closed as you catch your breath. When he doesn’t answer you open them and the depth of love you see makes you lose your breath once again. “We are. And there’s no one else I want to do this with.” Before you can say more, he kisses you again and you let the sound of the city and the rest of the world fall away, completely wrapped up in him.

Monday starts off well and your call with Tony is full of hope and excitement. He wants to meet with you again to go over how and where to start and he wants Steve to come as well so they can discuss the structural changes that the Bookshop will undergo. The buzz from it all carries you through the rest of the day and your thoughts are ever present on all the ideas you have for the renovation.

‘Hey doll. ❤❤ I was thinking we should meet up with everyone after we talk with Tony and maybe discuss ways to get the word out, you know on social media and all that.’ You smile as you type your reply text. ‘That’s a great idea ❤ Nat is a whiz with this stuff and has done some freelance work for companies so she will be a huge help.’ His own response makes your smile grow. ‘How did we get so lucky. Our friends are the best.’

Later that night the two of you are sitting on the couch, facing each other, criss cross apple sauce, pen and paper in hand. “Ok babe. So far, you’ve had my chocolate chip peanut butter cookies, chocolate pie, cream puffs, and chocolate chip cookies.” Bucky is vigorously shaking his head yes and licking his lips at the thought of all the yumminess. “What about brownies? People love those! And definitely some kind of cake, right? Muffins are a must! And maybe even those cookies you love, the ones with the little feet that we get at that fancy French place in your neighborhood?”

Bucky’s hands are flying this way and that as he continues hurling out different desserts and goodies. At first you try to keep up and write them all down, finally just giving up and throwing the pen at his head. He catches it of course. “Ugh. Why did I know that would happen? you laugh, picking your feet up and poking him with your toe. Ignoring your complaints, he grabs your feet and starts tickling them, expertly pulling you forward and covering your body with his.

“Did you get all that. Hmmm? Huffing as you lay under him you try to get your arms free but have no luck. “I stopped after the cookies with the little feet,” you deadpan, trying your hardest to wiggle out. “Feet? I said cookies with feet?” His bewildered look is the last straw and you burst into giggles, screaming out “macarons, they’re called macarons,” just before he starts tickling your sides.

He finally lets up when your face starts turning red. “Man that is way too fun,” he sighs out happily when he sits up, still keeping you pinned to the couch. “You’re the worst. Now take me for macarons at La Maison!” Grinning down at you he lifts his hands in a promise of more tickles but instead helps you up and kisses you sweetly. “Anything for my best girl. Let’s go.”

When you meet with Tony later in the week, you’re much less nervous and having Steve with you just makes it all the better. The location he picks this time is much more relaxed and you feel like you’re getting to know more about Tony as a person and not just a businessman. “I’m excited for you kids. And you’re lucky you have so many willing and able people on board,” he says, looking to Steve. “I think you should get started as soon as possible. We have about 8 weeks left of summer and it would be nice to have things ready for fall.”

Steve perks up at that. “Buck, if you’re gonna serve coffee and all that you can make pumpkin spice stuff. I’ve seen Peggy literally do dances for anything with pumpkin spice.” Everyone laughs and can’t help but agree. “It’s true. My wife has made me go out in the pouring rain to get her a pumpkin spice latte. She loves that stuff.” Tony’s smile is real whenever he mentions Pepper and it gives you a good feeling, loving that he’s sharing a bit more about his personal life.

The four of you sit and talk for over three hours and it isn’t until you rest your head on Bucky’s shoulder and cover your mouth in a yawn that Tony decides it’s time to go home. Steve walks halfway home with you guys before he makes a turn and heads to his shared apartment with Peggy. “See you guys this weekend and don’t forget about Friday Buck.” Steve gives Bucky a stern look before hugging you tight and saying goodnight.

“What’s happening on Friday?” A mischievous grin creeps over Bucky’s face and you start smiling yourself. “Bucky. You better tell me.” Bucky’s smile is so big and bright you can’t help how infectious it is. “Ok. Listen to me. He told me not to tell anyone because he’s afraid it will ruin the surprise but he also said if I couldn’t take it anymore I could tell you but if you ruin the surprise he’ll kill you. So.”

You’re now jumping up and down in front of his apartment, pulling on his arm and shouting, “oh my god. OH MY GOD. He’s gonna propose, isn’t he?” you whisper yell, nearly bursting. Bucky’s shocked look makes you throw your head back with laughter. “I knew it! Peggy, Nat and I were talking about it the other day. Peg was saying Steve’s been acting so strange and then Nat just threw it out there that he is probably going to ask her to marry him and that was it.”

Bucky starts to look frantic and you quickly take his face in your hands. “No, no, Buck. Don’t worry. She doesn’t know when or how or any of that. She doesn’t have a clue. We were just having fun and talking.” It seems like he wants to say something, so you wait, watching as a sea of emotions swirl around in his eyes. “Ok. That’s good. Because if anything goes wrong, my ass is toast. Even though he can’t touch me but ya know.” Scoffing you brush him off and spin back around to ask, “wait. So, what’s happening Friday?”

“Well we have to go pick up the ring and then I’m going to help him carry out his plan.” You clear your throat and try to hold back your emotion. “I’m so happy. I can’t wait!” Bucky takes your hand and opens the door to his building, letting you through first and securing you to his side once you’re in. “I’m happy for them too,” he whispers into your hair, “it’s going to be amazing.”

By the time Friday comes you’re practically thrumming with excitement and can barely contain yourself every time you talk with Peggy. You’re thankful for modern technology and texting because if you had to talk on the phone you would definitely give something away. You’re supposed to meet Bucky and everyone at the bar tonight to celebrate the engagement, so you and Nat hang out after work to get ready. You all decided to get a little more dolled up than usual tonight considering it was a special occasion and you knew Steve and Peggy would be looking fancy themselves.

“I wonder if she suspects anything,” Nat says as she turns around for you to zip her dress. “I hope not. I mean we did elude to the fact that he might be up to something, but it was all in good fun. Either way, I know she’s going to be so happy. My turn.” You turn around so Nat can zip you up, giving yourself one last look in the mirror.

When you arrive at the bar Sam is outside to greet you, his eyes nearly bugging out of his head when he sees Nat in her dress. You leave the two of them to say hello and head inside. The moment your eyes lock with Bucky’s you can tell he thinks you look incredible. He mouths a “wow” at you before Peter nudges him in the elbow to get his attention. He doesn’t take his eyes off you, instead motioning for you to come closer.

Walking up to the bar you shimmy between some customers, leaning over so Bucky can whisper in your ear. “You look stunning.” With a light blush you pull away and kiss his cheek before searching for Nat and Sam and finding them in your usual spot. “Anyone have an eta on the newly engaged couple?” you ask when you reach them.

Sam slides in close, whispering, “Bucky said they should be here in under 30. He wouldn’t give me any more info.”  Looking at Nat you cover your mouth to quiet your squeal, “ok, thanks Sam!” He walks away to grab your drinks and you watch Bucky behind the bar. “Do you think you’ll marry him.” Nat’s question has your head snapping back and you take a moment to appreciate the weight of it. She just smiles and squeezes your hand.

Before you can take the conversation further, Bucky rushes over with Sam, handing you your drinks and yelling, “they’re just about here.” The four of you get to the front of the bar as quickly as you can and wait for Steve to open the door. You see his blonde hair first and you can already feel the tears building. He opens the door for Peggy and the second her eyes land on the four of you she screams and comes running at you full speed.

Her arms wrap around you and Nat and all three of you jump up and down, crying and hugging and grabbing her hand to see the ring. It’s gorgeous and perfect and you’re so happy. She calls Steve away from the guys and you all hug again, congratulating them and gushing over the ring. Sam and Bucky watch from behind and Sam turns to Bucky whose gaze never once leaves your smiling face. “So. You’re next huh?”

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