Tate Langdon - American Horror Story

If she’s important to you, show her.

(via icanrelateto)

Someone who’ll talk you through it 🥲

seriously rest in peace this is fucked up

SHE’S LIVING MY DREAM

How’s Your Head? | Bucky Barnes x Reader

This has been in my WIP forever and I finally finished it. Once again, I am looking for a soft, kind, Bucky Barnes to take care of me and flirt with me. Is that so much to ask?🥲

This is slightly longer than my usual stuff, just FYI. The WC is 7280. And yes the title is a Drag Race reference. 😂

Warnings: reader injury (not severe), creepy men (jail), blood, vomit, flirting, fluff🫶

Bucky didn’t like the staring. The eyes that seemed to follow him everywhere he went. The old woman just a few seats down from him leered at him almost aggressively, like she hoped looks could kill. And though this was a common occurrence, it still rubbed him the wrong way.

“Another adoring fan…” Bucky thought. 

He shifted side to side along with the rocking of the subway car and did his best to ignore her gaze- but couldn’t stand it any longer. He gave her a nod and a small, forced smile before heading for the adjoining subway car. Hopefully, he’d find an empty seat free from gawkers and onlookers.

But when he opened the door to the next car, he didn’t find the peace and quiet he’d hoped for.

“I’m not interested…” you said to the creepy guy sitting next to you.

“Oh, come on,” the man insisted. “Don’t be so uptight, sugar.” He rested a hand on your thigh and gave your leg a squeeze, his fingers digging into your flesh.

“Fuck off, dude. Seriously?” You banished his hand and stood from your seat, “eat glass, asshole.”

But as you tried to make your getaway, the man grabbed you by the wrist. He pulled you close as you struggled in his grip, his face only inches from yours. “Maybe you should learn some fuckin’ manners,” he threw you to the ground, your head striking the floor.

Bucky flew into a blind rage. He made quick work of your assailant, nearly removing the man’s head from his body. And with the entitled dickhead desperately escaping to another subway car, Bucky made his way to your side. 

“Hey, are you alright?” 

You sat on the floor, slightly dazed. A thick fog settled into every corner of your mind and your ears stung with a sharp ringing. “Yeah, I’m good. Didn’t hurt that bad,” you lied. Yet another interaction with an unknown man. Yes, he’d shooed away your creeper, but you wanted to be left alone. No more strange men, no more men pretending to be “one of the good guys” before showing their true self. 

If you could convince this random guy that you were okay, maybe he wouldn’t bother you. Maybe you’d be able to make it home without being touched by another strange hand. “Thanks for asking, but I’m-”

“Oh- you’re bleeding”. Only then did you notice the rush of warmth running down the back of your neck. Bucky yanked the jacket from his body and reached for your bloodied skull before quickly recoiling. “Erm, can I?” 

You nodded- the motion made you wince.

With cautious hands, he used his jacket to hold pressure to your wound. He stared down at you with genuine concern, his brow furrowed with worry. 

After a few moments, most of the fog cleared and brought you screeching back to reality. The reality in which a man you’d never met held his jacket to your bleeding scalp as you sat on the floor of a subway car. Pain pulsed beneath his touch and shot through your head. Warm blood dripped down your neck. But you didn’t care- all you wanted was to move.

Bucky watched as you struggled to get up and instantly tried to stop you. “Hey, careful. I don’t think-”

“I don’t wanna be on this floor any longer than I have to,” you did your best to stand, but the dizziness sabotaged your efforts. “People do weird shit on the train. I’d probably sitting in someone’s pee.” 

Bucky gave it a thought and instantly reconsidered his cautioning. “Ew. Yeah. You’re right,” the disgusted look on his face nearly made you laugh out loud. He thought back on all the questionable and downright nasty things he’d seen on the subway- he didn’t want you on that floor. “May I?” He offered you his free hand and got you safely into a seat. 

“Which stop is yours?” He asked, settling into the chair next to you. And though he seemed like a perfect gentleman, you gave him a suspicious glance. 

“Oh- I didn’t mean that in a ‘where do you live, I’m gonna follow you home’ type of way. More like, ‘how many stops do you have left before you can go get some rest?’ type of way”

You let out a laugh that sent pain pulsing behind your eyes. Maybe this stranger wasn’t so bad. “Um, I still have like five to go. I think. I’m coming all the way from Coney Island.” 

“Coney Island, huh?” A rush of memories hit Bucky like a train. Riding the cyclone with Steve and watching him puke. Spending all his money to win a stuffed animal for some redhead he had a crush on. 

“Yeah, I got to hang out with a girl I know from college. Haven’t seen her in a while and she’s never been out there. It was actually a pretty great day until that asshole cracked my head open…”

Bucky grimaced. He pulled his jacket from your scalp to give the wound another look, only to be greeted by a continuous flow of blood. “I think you should probably go to the ER. You might need stitches. And there’s a good chance you have a concussion.” 

You shot him only a nonchalant shrug, “I’m not worried about it. Plus, I don’t feel like going into debt so they can give me two Tylenol and an ice pack”.

Bucky liked your sense of humor, your wit. How you could be cheeky and sarcastic after being accosted surprised him. But he clocked the tension in your shoulders, the worry in your eyes. You were uneasy. Your glance darted from one end of the subway car to the other every few seconds; he knew you had to be searching for your assailant. Or the next man who wanted to touch you without permission.

“Hey, would you rather take a cab home?” Bucky said, pulling you from your anxious spiral. “I don’t blame you if you don’t want to ride the train after what happened.”

“Oh, um…”

“I’m not inviting myself home with you-” Bucky shook his head. He was cute when he got flustered. “I just mean, I’ll pay for you to take a cab if you’re uncomfortable.”

How you seemed to meet both the bottom of the barrel and the crème de le crème of men back-to-back nearly gave you whiplash. But this handsome stranger had done enough; you couldn’t let him pay for your ride home. “That’s- wow, that’s really sweet. But you don’t have to. It’s okay.”

“What if I want to? You seem uneasy… like you’re waiting for him to come back.”

You nodded.

“Then let’s get you a cab, alright? Next stop, we’re outta here.” He shot you a wink before once again reassuring you that he was not going to follow you home. “Is there someone who can keep an eye on you, though? Like I said, you probably have a concussion. And if your roommate or, um, significant other can sit with you for the rest of the night, that would be a good idea. Head injuries are no joke.”

“Well, I don’t have a significant other,” you almost laughed. “And my roommate’s out of town. She was supposed to get back around sevenish, but her flight got crazy delayed because of weather- now she’s not getting home for a few hours.”

Bucky’s brow furrowed. He checked his watch and saw that it was only 8:04pm. He needed someone to sit with you for the rest of the night. Just in case something happened, you’d need a friend or loved one by your side. And if you didn’t have someone there with you, Bucky knew he’d spend the remainder of his evening worrying about the cute stranger he met on the train. 

Just then, the subway stopped. Bucky offered you his arm and guided you onto the platform and up the stairs- all while keeping his jacket in place against your wound. Getting away from the train eliminated your unease. No longer were you trapped in the tiny space, your blood staining the floor. You had an escort in the form of a good samaritan, and a ride that would get you home without any further abuse.

 But when Bucky hailed you a cab, your anxiety resurfaced.

“Hey, um…” you eyed the car as it approached, “Would you- do you mind riding with me?”

Bucky cocked his head to the side. 

“I don’t know- I’m just a little nervous and I don’t really wanna be in a cab alone with another random man,” you said. “I know it’s probably inconvenient for you- I’ll pay for your ride home from my place.” The taxi neared the curb and stopped in front of you, sending your unease into overdrive. “Do you mind?”

Bucky clocked your wide eyes and shaking hands. Sure, you made jokes and sarcastic quips about what happened. But deep down, you were shaken. And he wanted to help in any way he could. “Not at all- I get it,” he gave you a reassuring look, “and you don’t have to pay for my ride. Let’s just get you home, alright?”

He held the door open for you and helped you into the cab before sliding in behind you- his hand still attached to your bloody skull. The ride was quiet, save for the honking of horns and cursing drivers. But having Bucky with you for the duration eased your discomfort. 

“So, is there anyone you can call to come look after you?” Bucky asked after a while, “A friend, a neighbor, a family member?”

“I don’t really have any friends,” you said. “But not in a ‘I’m a loser and can’t make friends’ kind of way, I promise.” Bucky laughed. You liked his laugh. “I’m just still kinda new here. And all my family lives in across the country. Plus, I only know two of my neighbors. One of them is an old man who always tell me my skin looks ‘so soft’-”

Bucky’s nose wrinkled, “Ew…"

“Yeah. And the other is this girl who told me to shut the fuck up because she thinks my footsteps are too loud? So yeah, I don’t have many connections here yet.”

He sensed a little embarrassment staining your words and aimed to make you feel better, “Well I’ve lived here for quite some time, and I don’t have any friends, either.” 

That didn’t seem possible to you. He was so likable. Quiet, yet endearing. And certainly, a gentleman. He made you feel safe. You wondered how his girlfriend would react when she found out he took another woman home. 

Bucky found himself wondering how you didn’t have swaths of friends. Even after your harrowing experience on the train, you were so charming. Funny. Sweet. It was even harder for him to believe you didn’t have a love interest to go home to. But after what he’d witnessed tonight, he didn’t blame you for keeping to yourself. 

“What part of town do you live in?” You did your best to conceal the optimism in your voice, the hoped that he lived close by. It was embarrassing how smitten you were with this man.

“Brooklyn,” Bucky said. “I’ve lived there for a while- save for some years I spent, um, away.”

Brooklyn. Nothing a quick train ride couldn’t solve. Though you weren’t too keen on the subway after the night’s events. “Well, tell your girlfriend that I apologize for keeping you so long.”

“I don’t have one,” Bucky said. Things inside the cab fell quiet.

“Oh. Well, do you-” you second guessed yourself, but decided to push through. “Do you want to stay with me until my roommate gets home? You know, since you’re so worried about me and my possible concussion and my lack of friends.”

Bucky stopped breathing. “Oh, um. Sure. Yeah. If that’s- if that’s alright. You sure you’re okay inviting a stranger into your house?”

“Well, you’re not really a stranger, Sergeant Barnes”. You shot him a wink.

An immediate ringing filled Bucky’s ears. He didn’t know what to say, how to react.

The rest of the ride was quiet. Bucky’s mind echoed with the sound of your voice referring to him by name. He liked the way it sounded coming from you. But he hated that you knew who- and what- he was. And when the cab turned onto your street and stopped in front of your apartment, he nearly panicked. He reconsidered his agreement to stay with you. But you didn’t seem to mind having the ex-Winter Soldier so close. And he didn’t want you to be alone with a head injury.

Against his better judgement, he followed you to the front door of your building. 

“My great aunt actually lived here back in the fifties,” you told Bucky as you fumbled for your keys. Bucky wondered how you could tell casual stories while dealing with a head injury and an ex-assassin. But as you continued to speak, he realized that he didn’t quite hear what you’d said. He was still reeling from your mention of his name. 

And then he noticed you struggling. You were dizzy after cracking your head open, and a slight shaking rendered your hands almost useless. No matter how many times you tried, you couldn’t seem to finagle the key into the lock. 

“Um, do you want some help?” He gestured to your keys and allowed you to drop them into his free hand. He pushed the old door open with a loud creak and escorted you inside the lobby- his hand still resting on the back of your head. It was quiet while the two of you waited for the ancient elevator to roar to life. And when the doors finally opened, he guided you inside and watched you press the ‘5’ button.

“So… how’d you know it was me?” He asked as the elevator slowly climbed to your floor.

“Well, when I first saw you, I thought you looked kinda familiar. But I couldn’t place you”. You laughed a quiet, bashful laugh, “Then you knelt down next to me, and I thought I was gonna pass out- but not from the head trauma. You just you have like, the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen.” The head injury had you a bit loopy, a little too honest. Too confident. “I knew I’d seen those eyes before… and then it clicked. You were so chivalrous, you know? So old fashioned. I mean, who uses their own jacket to stop a stranger’s head wound from bleeding?” 

Bucky shrugged. His cheeks flushed pink.

“I read a book a few years ago about Captain America and his efforts during World War II. And there was a huge portion about Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes… And that’s where I’d seen those eyes.” You flashed him a dramatic wink, “Truth be told, it was my favorite part of the book.”

A shy laugh made its way out of Bucky’s mouth, “Is that so?”

The elevator lurched to a stop and nearly sent you tumbling to the floor. You’d gotten used to the clunky machine since moving into the building, but your sabotaged equilibrium didn’t stand a chance against it. Bucky caught you in a careful, protective grasp before you could tip over. He gently righted you and searched your face for any indicators of discomfort. 

“You alright?”

“All good, Sergeant Barnes.” You gave him a salute.

He rolled his eyes and escorted you into the hall, “you can just call me Bucky, if you like.”

“Okay, Bucky-” you said with a smile, “follow me.” You lead him in the direction of your apartment- with his jacket still plastered to your scalp. The man was determined to help you. You’d give him that.

You once again needed his assistance when it came to unlocking your front door. But when Bucky got the door open, he just stood there. He didn’t go inside. He held the door for you and insisted you go ahead, finally peeling the jacket from your wound. He knew he didn’t belong here.

You noticed how tentative he was about entering your home and beckoned him inside. “You can come in…” you said. “Are super soldiers like vampires? Do y’all need an invitation?”

Bucky laughed, “No. I just… I don’t do this kind of thing very often.”

“Oh, you don’t accompany injured women home from the subway on a weekly basis? I’m shocked.”

You flipped on the light and let the warm glow reveal your apartment. Bucky admired the art covering your walls, the books lining your shelves, the smell of some kind of baked goods lingering in the air. This place was cozy, welcoming. Nothing like his apartment.

While he was distracted drinking in the details of your home, you gave his jacket a once over. Blood coated the leather and smeared the lining. It was enough to make you nauseous.  “Sorry about this mess… here, let me clean it up for-”

“It’s leather- I’m not worried about it,” Bucky shrugged. “I’ll just wipe it off later.”

“Ew, I think that’s considered a biohazard, Sarge.”

Bucky’s laugh echoed through your home- you liked the sound of his voice bouncing around your space. “Well, lucky for me, I’m not susceptible to biohazards. So, really, it’s not a big deal.” He shot you a wink and hung his bloody jacket on the back of a chair. “Let me take a look at your head.”

He gently moved your hair out of the way enough to expose your wound. He was as careful as he possible not to hurt you or make things worse. And using the dish towel you offered him, he wiped away enough blood to get a good look. 

“It’s big, but not deep enough to warrant stitches. And it looks like the bleeding has finally come to a stop.” 

“Perfect. I’m gonna go take a shower” you said. “Make yourself at home. You’re welcome to anything in the fridge, except the kombucha. My roommate will murder you if you drink her kombucha.”

Bucky didn’t even know what kombucha was. “Are- are you sure you wanna go shower?”

“Um, yeah. Gotta get the subway-floor germs off me,” you gave a dramatic shudder. “Some of us are, indeed, susceptible to biohazards.”

“That’s fair,” he laughed, “I’m just a little worried about your balance… I think it’s probably seen better days.”

He wasn’t wrong. The floor did indeed seem to dip and shift under you unsuspecting feet. The room spun on occasion. The walls wiggled. But you needed to get cleaned up. “I’ll be extra careful. Promise.” You offered him your pinky and made him link his with yours. “But I have more blood in my hair than anyone should- I need a shower.” You left Bucky alone in your living room with a promise to be back soon.

It was strange for him, being in a stranger’s home like this. He didn’t get invited places or have friends to hang out with. He had Sam- and that was it. And while Sam was great, he never felt quite like this at Sam’s apartment. Something about your place warmed him, made him feel a little lighter. Or maybe it was you. Who was he kidding? Of course, it was you.

But Bucky knew this feeling couldn’t last. In a few hours, your roommate would return and send him home. And that would be the end of it. Of course, he’d be thrilled to see you again under better circumstances. But assuming he’d get that chance would only lead to disappointment. And so, as he waited for you to finish your shower, he did his best to remember this feeling just in case it was the last time.

“I said make yourself at home and you didn’t even sit down!” you said when you emerged from the bathroom. You found Bucky in the living room with his hands in his pockets, admiring your things as though he were in a museum. Looking, never touching. “Relax a little, sarge. The couch is really comfy, I promise.”

Bucky liked the way you looked with your skin still slightly damp form the shower, your hair wet and a little messy. “Oh, yeah- I just got distracted looking at all your…” he gestured to your bookcase, “your books and your tchotchkes. You have good taste- I like that you have two copies of Fellowship of the Ring.”

“Well, my sister dropped one of them in the lake at summer camp when we were kids…” you pointed to the faded cover and worn spine of the book in question. “She took a hairdryer to it and it’s mostly fine, but my mom made her get me a replacement. I just can’t seem to part with this one, though.” You plucked your water-damaged copy of Fellowship of the Ring from the shelf and flipped through the pages, “too much sentimental value. You know?

Bucky felt a small smile creeping upward- you didn’t mind damaged goods. Maybe you’d want to see him again after all. 

“Can I get you a drink or something? I have water, tea, La Croix, wine…” you looked at him expectantly. 

“Oh, no I’m okay-”

“Well, I’m going to the fridge for some water anyway, so you’re not saving me a trip…” you shot him a wink and began your trek to the kitchen. He followed in your footsteps, too much of a gentleman to let you fetch him a drink. And though he didn’t know what La Croix was, he took the one you offered him with a smile.

He followed you yet again, but to the couch this time. He sat a respectful distance away- as respectful as your small couch would allow- and taste tested the blackberry drink in his hand. It didn’t taste like blackberries. But he thanked you, anyway.

He couldn’t believe he’d forgotten to check in on you after your shower- he was too entranced by the sight of you in your pajamas. “Hey, how’s your head?”

“Haven’t had any complaints.”

Maybe it was too forward of a joke. Maybe someone from his time wouldn’t appreciate crass humor. Bucky’s cheeks flushed red- and he burst into laughter. You joined him, ignoring the throbbing pain in your skull. 

“It feels fine. I mean, it hurts, but it’s nothing I haven’t experienced before” you said. “Are you just gonna make sure I stay up all night?” 

Bucky cocked his head to the side, “uh, I wasn’t planning on it.”

“Oh…” you grew a little embarrassed. “I thought you couldn’t go to sleep if you have a concussion.”

“You can go to sleep- it’s just good to have someone check in on you now and then,” he said. “And, hey, you don’t have to stay in here with me- don’t feel like you have to entertain me, or anything. If you wanna go to bed, I’ll be fine out here.”

“Well, I don’t know about entertaining, cause I think the concussion kinda fucked up my ability to tap dance,” you laughed. “But I wanna hang out here with you- if you don’t mind the company.”

He gave you a shy smile, “I don’t mind at all.”

Bucky wasn’t anything like the tabloids said. He wasn’t cold or scary or threatening. He sat on your couch, sipping a La Croix and admiring your throw blanket. He was the farthest thing from intimidating. He had a quiet calm about him that brought you peace. Never did you think you’d invite a man you met on the subway to accompany you home. But Bucky made you feel safe. He was sweet, he clearly cared for your well-being. He was, by all definitions, perfect.

“So, what do superheroes do in their downtime?” you asked. “Like when you’re not saving the world, what do you do for fun?”

Bucky shrugged. He didn’t do anything for fun. “Um, I have court mandated therapy appointments,” he gave an awkward laugh. “I read. I hang out with Sam when he’s not in Louisiana visiting his sister. And I have lunch with a neighbor of mine every Wednesday- this old man named Yori.”

“I’m sure he could say the same about you- that he has lunch with some old man named Bucky.”

Bucky’s head fell back in a laugh, “yeah, you’re right. He’s- he’s about twenty years younger than me.” Bucky didn’t bring up the fact that Yori didn’t know his real age or anything about his past. About how the Winter Soldier killed his son. “Um, what about you?” He quickly changed the subject, “what do you do for fun?”

You thought it over for a moment. You hadn’t expected him to ask; most guys never asked what you liked to do for fun. They didn’t ask you anything at all, really. “Well, I also go to therapy,” you said. “My therapist’s name is Angela and I love her. And when I’m not ‘hanging out’ with Angela, I like to read. I like to go on walks. Oh, and I do a lot of baking- there’s a Tupperware of chocolate chip cookies on the island if you want some.”

Bucky’s eyes grew wide. He was off the couch quicker than you could comprehend and returned with the entire Tupperware in hand. But before he could dive in, he offered one to you. He was a gentleman, after all. 

“Oh, shit, these are so good”. Bucky wiped a stray crumb from his lip, “seriously, maybe the best I’ve ever had.”

His praise made your cheeks hot. Bucky Barnes called you ‘the best he ever had’- it was enough to make you sweat. “Oh, I’m flattered. The recipe’s been in my family for generations, though, so I can’t take full credit, but I-”

“I’m giving you full credit”, he said as he finished his second cookie. “These things are incredible.” 

You smiled so hard it hurt. “Well, I make at least one batch a week, so…” This was it, your excuse to see Bucky again. You could simply say that you wanted to bake him some cookies as a way of saying thank you, and then you’d ask him out. It was a perfect plan, really. A flawless, surefire way to guarantee that you’d see him at least once more. But as you tried to suggest baking him a ‘thank you’ batch, your mouth flooded with saliva.

Bucky clocked the way you grew suddenly quiet. He dropped his third cookie and inched closer, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Hey, you okay? Do you need something?”

You did your best to push past the wave of nausea. Breathing in your nose and out through your mouth, you willed your body to cooperate. You made a valiant effort, but it was no match for the clear and present threat of vomit. This was happening- now. You scrambled to your feet and made a beeline for the bathroom, swearing to yourself you wouldn’t puke in front of the James Buchanan Barnes. 

Bucky rushed after you and found you kneeling in front of the toilet, emptying the contents of your stomach. “Oh, shit- here, let me,” he carefully moved your hair out of your face, holding it behind you in an imitation ponytail. His touch was gentle, cautious. He didn’t want to pull too hard and hurt you- you didn’t need any extra pain. 

He watched your body lurch as you wretched over and over, voiding your system completely. It was harsh, almost violent. And when you finally sat back on your heels, black and white spots danced through your field of vision. You were empty. Spent. Exhausted. 

“Hey, do me a favor and sit against this wall, okay?” Bucky guided you backward until you rested comfortably like he asked. “I’m gonna go get you some water, and I don’t want you tipping over while I’m gone.” Even in your despondent, miserable state, he still made you smile. And when he was certain that you wouldn’t injure yourself in his absence, he rushed to the kitchen for a glass of water.

He returned moments later with ice cold water in hand. “Thanks,” you croaked, your throat raw. Small sips of the cool water eased the burning. And a few more swigs rid your mouth of the unpleasant aftertaste. “I’m sure you weren’t planning on watching a stranger puke tonight,” you laughed. It made your head pound. “But I appreciate the water. And you holding my hair.”

Bucky plopped down next to you with a “sure thing” and a “don’t worry about it.” But you’d heard those phrases before. You’d heard them from people who were never a sure thing, people who made you worry about everything they did for you. They’d throw their rare acts of kindness in your face and use them as ammo in an attempt to disprove the pain they caused. It was condescending. Manipulative. Hurtful.  But Bucky meant what he said. All he wanted to do was help. You could tell.

He watched you catch your breath. Watched you drink your water in small sips. But he kept an eye out for another wave of nausea. He wanted to be ready in case he needed to hold your hair again. And he found himself thanking the universe that you’d invited him in; imagining you going through this by yourself broke his heart. 

“How do you feel?” he asked after a while.

“Not the best... but I’ll probably survive.”

Bucky’s laugh filled the room, “well, that’s very good news.”

The two of you sat in a comfortable silence. Bucky’s hand rested near yours. Your thigh bumped against his a few times. You swore electric currents passed between the two of you each time you touched. 

“Hey, if you don’t mind, could you grab me some Tylenol?” 

Bucky was up in an instant, ready to fetch you what you needed. But he found himself lost with no idea where he was going. He was so intent on helping, on making you feel better, that he was ready to run off without a map.

“In the cabinet to the left of the fridge,” you laughed. 

He shot you a wink and sped off. And while he rummaged through your cabinet, you made an embarrassing effort to stand. You rose on wobbly legs, determined to brush your teeth. There was no way you were going to have vomit breath around Bucky- absolutely not. He was the handsome stranger of your dreams. And you couldn’t screw this up; not that you thought he’d kiss a random concussed woman he met on the subway. But you wanted to leave the very best impression possible.

Bucky came screeching own the hall, bottle of Tylenol in hand. “I didn’t know how many you wanted, so I brought the whole thing”, he shrugged. You shot him a smile in the mirror and gave him a muffled “thanks”.

He stood patiently in the doorway, waiting for you finish brushing your teeth. And when you banished the rank taste of bile, you accepted the Tylenol. You tossed back four pills, and before you could reach for your water, Bucky retrieved it for you. He was one step ahead of what you needed. 

With the pills washed down your throat, you gave Bucky an expectant look. “Back to the couch?”

“Yeah, I mean, only if you’re feeling up to it,” he checked his watch. Noticed the yawn you tried to keep concealed. “If you wanna get some rest, please, don’t mind me. You can go to bed- I’ll be fine on my own.”

“No, I’m good. I’m fine,” you took him by the hand and led him back to the living room. “I’m having a good time.” Bucky didn’t say a word; he just let you guide him. He hadn’t held hands with someone in- he didn’t know how long. And holding hands with you- a stranger he’d grown rather smitten with- was enough to stop his heart.

The two of you sunk back into the couch- closer this time- and kept the conversation going. Your thigh rested against Bucky’s; his arm curved around the back of the couch. You could’ve sworn he was playing with a piece of your hair as he talked. But you didn’t want to ask and ruin the moment.

As the night continued, Bucky was shocked. He couldn’t believe you’d only heard of a few of his favorite movies. And he’d never heard of any of yours. “Make me a list,” you said, handing him a pen and a scrap of paper. “And I’ll make one for you. A person’s favorite movies say a lot about them.” 

“Yeah?” he cocked an eyebrow at you. “And what do mine say about me? The ones you know of, that is.”

A sly smile pulled at your lips, “they say that you’re a hopeless romantic.” It almost sounded like an accusation, and Bucky couldn’t help but laugh. 

“Is that so?”

“That is so!” you told him. “But I’m gonna tell you a secret…”  You lowered your voice, beckoned him closer, scanned the room as though in search of any eavesdroppers. “I’m the same way.” 

Just as you finished your list of movies for Bucky, you considered writing down your number. It would be so smooth, so perfectly timed- but what if he thought it was too forward? What if he didn’t want your phone number at all? You scratched out your area code and handed him the list with a smile.

The two of you continued teasing and joking and learning about each other. You found out that Bucky loved peach cobbler. He learned about your passion for animals. And eventually you asked the question you’d been curious about all night.

“So, where were you headed?” 

“What?”

“Well, you were on the subway. I’m assuming you were going somewhere.” You thought he was probably going to some fellow hero’s house for Super Movie Night. Or maybe a meeting with Captain America and Company. He had something much cooler to do than anything you planned for the night, that was for sure.

“Oh, right…” he cringed. “Um, I wasn’t actually heading anywhere. I was just riding the train to, well, ride the train.” It was embarrassing. More embarrassing than anything he’d ever done or said in his hundred years of life.

You cocked your head to the side, “Hmm. Interesting. So, is that like a hobby of yours?” 

He wished he could take his answer back. He wished he would’ve said he was going to dinner. Or Target. Or literally anywhere. But no, he just had to be honest. “No, it isn’t a hobby. It’s more like… exposure therapy.”

“Shit. Sorry,” you threw him an apologetic look. “You don’t have to talk about it.”

“It’s okay, no big deal. I just- I don’t really like confined spaces. Or spaces with a lot of people. It’s a- it’s a long story.”

You nodded. 

“So, my therapist told me two combine the two and force myself to take the train- which isn’t great for my fear of trains,” he let out an awkward laugh. “Anyway, I was just trying it out. Seeing how it made me feel.”

Your heart broke for him. He had so many problems, so much trauma to deal with. And while you weren’t a psychiatrist, you didn’t think combining three of his fears into one nightmare was very sound medical advice. “And how did it make you feel?” 

“It wasn’t great- this lady was staring daggers at me for ten solid minutes. But I did get to teach that creepy guy a lesson, so at least there’s a silver lining.”

You laughed. He loved the sound- wanted to hear it all the time. 

“Thank you again, by the way, Sarge. You really rocked that guy’s shit.”

“I don’t like hurting people-” he shrugged, “It’s just something I’m good at. I try not to engage in violence unless absolutely necessary, you know? But that guy deserved it. Probably deserved a little more, but…” He gestured to you, “priorities.”

A warm rush flooded your cheeks. James Buchanan Barnes referred to you as a priority. 

The evening continued as the two of you swapped stories. You couldn’t believe how funny he was, how many ridiculous things he did back when he was young. In the comfortable safety of your living room, he came alive. You asked for more tales of young James Barnes and his antics with Steve Rogers. 

But as time passed, Bucky clocked the way you sank deeper into the couch. You nodded along with his stories and made comments here and there, but there was no mistaking your exhaustion. You leaned against his body more and more until your head rested on his shoulder. 

And then, you were asleep. Completely out. 

But Bucky didn’t mind. He sat still and quiet. He silenced his phone and yours. After the night you had, you needed the rest. And he was more than happy to help you get some sleep. He held in his laughter as you muttered nonsense under your breath- something about crepes and trench coats. It was perfect. Not the night Bucky expected, but the night he needed. And he’d stay in that exact position for hours if he had to. 

But after only forty minutes, a loud crash scared you awake.

Two large pieces of luggage fell to the floor inside your front door. “Fuck Delta airlines and FUCK LAX!” your roommate, Emma, yelled. “I swear to god, there’s a curse on that fucking airport and Delta is the devil’s airline.”

She eyed the room for a moment, taking in the unexpected scene. “Ew, why is there a bloody jacket in the kitchen? And who the fuck are you?”

You stood, begrudgingly leaving your spot next to Bucky. “This is Bucky, that’s his jacket. Some asshole attacked me on the train. I split my head open. He brought me home and kept an eye on me till you got back.”

Maybe she was just in a shit mood because of the travel nightmare. Or maybe she recognized Bucky. But either way, Emma wasn’t having it. “Okay, well, thanks for bringing her home. But I’m back, so you can go. Now. And don’t forget your nasty jacket.”

Bucky gave an awkward laugh. He mumbled a “nice to meet you” and stood from the couch. The two of you locked eyes for a moment, and you wished telepathy came with the serum. If he could only read your mind, he’d know how sorry you were. How horrified you were by Emma’s behavior. You couldn’t believe how rude she was being, how utterly unkind. 

But your mind and body weren’t quite working together. You were still groggy, lost in the haze of sleep. And your head injury only made things more difficult. You did your best to formulate a response to Emma and an apology to Bucky. But before you could say anything, Emma was at it again. 

“Seriously, dude. It’s time for you to go, get out of my house.”

Bucky was so flustered, so uncomfortable that he left without saying goodbye. Without getting your number. He shut down. He simply snagged his jacket from the kitchen and bailed. He heard you arguing with Emma as he walked down the hall. Heard you near-tears. 

He wanted to turn around and say goodnight. To protect you from Emma’s wrath. Comfort you. More than anything, he wanted to get your number. Maybe ask you out. But he was too thrown off by the whole thing. He didn’t expect such a response- he didn’t even get to tell Emma that you needed looking after. He just ran. And it made him feel like a coward. 

He pressed the button for the ancient elevator once. Twice. Five times. And when it finally arrived, he got in and slammed the button for the first floor. Ruining his chances of ever seeing you again. Sure, he knew where you lived. But he couldn’t just show up. You’d already dealt with enough creepy shit from weird men- he wasn’t going to stalk you. 

Bucky spent the entire elevator ride heartbroken. He knew he’d have to go home to his empty apartment; knew he’d think about you for way too long. You’d probably forget about him after a day- maybe two at the most. And he’d spend months trying to get over the stranger from the subway.

But when he stepped out of the elevator, he found you waiting for him.

“Hi, um… what?” He was more than a little confused. “How did you- how’d you get down here so fast?”

“Stairs,” you breathed. “Faster.”

Bucky couldn’t believe you. It was romantic; it was something out of one of his favorite movies. But it was stupid. “That was… that was a terrible idea- you could’ve gotten hurt. You almost fell over earlier when you were just standing still. Why’d you run down the stairs?”

“Cause I didn’t get to say goodbye…” your voice was soft, heartbroken. “And I didn’t get to give you my number.”

Wordlessly, Bucky handed you his phone. He didn’t know what to say, didn’t want to chance ruining such a perfect opportunity. He couldn’t believe this was happening to him, of all people. That you actually wanted to see him again.

When you finished, you extended Bucky’s phone in his direction- but recoiled as he tried to reach for it. “Promise me you’ll call?”

“On my life,” he said. The answer brought a warm smile to your face- a smile he wanted to see again. As soon as possible. And when you gave his phone back, he took a moment to stare down at your number. This had to be a dream. 

“Do me a favor and go get some rest, okay?” He extended his pinky and linked it with yours, “Drink a lot of water. And even though she seems like she’s in a bad mood, ask your roommate to check in on you every now and then.”

“Yeah, like she’s gonna go for that-”

“Tell her that if she doesn’t, I’m coming back to look after you myself. And I’ll drink her, her um…” 

“Kombucha,” you whispered. 

“Right, I’ll drink her Kombucha!” He laughed and shot you a wink, “That’ll do the trick.”

You pressed a kiss to his cheek, wiggled your pinky with his, and stepped into the still-open elevator doors. “Thank you for everything. I’m really happy I met you.” 

Bucky blushed. “So am I. Not under the best circumstances, but-”

“Worth it,” you shot him a wink. Just as the doors began to close, the two of you exchanged waves. And just before Bucky vanished from view, you threw a quick “call me” his way. And then he was gone.

You made it back to your apartment, nearly tripping over Emma’s luggage. She apologized as you grabbed a glass of water and nearly cried when you told her the story of your evening. And though you wanted to hear about her airport nightmare, you needed to sleep. 

You got settled in bed and realized- you missed Bucky already. 

And just as you decided to go to sleep for the night, your phone buzzed:

“Wanted to call but figured it might be too soon- seeing as it’s only been about four minutes. I’ll call you in the morning. And just so you know: even without the tap dancing, I found you very entertaining. I’m really glad I met you.

If you need anything at all, let me know. Feel better.

-JBB”

—————————————

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this is one of my favorite quotes. every time i have self-doubt and feel like giving up, i try and look back on how far i’ve come. once you do a little self assessment, you will be shocked with the progress you’ve made :))

confessions

summary: Bucky can’t find the courage to share his feelings for you, so he gets a little help from an old friend.

pairing: college!Bucky x reader

warnings: alcohol consumption, some profanity

word count: 4k

a/n: this is my submission for @pellucid-constellations love letter writing challenge! this is also my first ever Bucky fic so I hope people like it! I have a few more fics in the works that I will (hopefully) be posting soon. any and all feedback is greatly appreciated :)

“Buck…are you listening?” Steve nudged him.

“What’s that?” he snapped back to his friends.

“Could you be more obvious?” Sam added.

“What?”

“The minute Y/N walks into a room you completely lose focus.”

“That’s not true,” he defended.

“And…she’s heading this way.”

“What?” Bucky panicked, running fingers through his hair. Sam and Steve chuckled as Y/N and Natasha joined them at the table.

“Hello boys,” Y/N said. Natasha planted a fresh pitcher of beer in the middle of the table along with a stack of plastic cups.

“You are the best girlfriend a guy could ask for,” Steve said, planting a quick kiss on her cheek.

“I knew there was a reason you kept me around,” she winked at him.

“So what are you guys doing tomorrow night?” Y/N asked.

The boys looked at each other and shrugged, “Probably just hanging out here.”

“Not anymore. Nat and I are hosting a little end of semester party at our place and I expect you all to be there.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Steve said.

“Perfect, party starts at 9! Don't be late. Oh there’s Thor. I’m gonna go invite him,” she said, departing from the table with her beer in hand.

Sam, Steve, and Natasha all looked at Bucky.

“What?” he feigned innocence.

“That was real smooth,” Sam said.

Bucky looked at them all confused until Steve added, “You’re completely in love with this girl and you don’t say one word to her?”

“I’m not in love with her!” he denied, though they all knew he was full of it.

“Buck…” Natasha sighed, “I’m doing the best I can to help you out here but you’re not helping yourself.”

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to say to her.”

“She’s a person. Just talk to her like you would anyone else.”

“But she’s not anyone else. She’s…perfect.”

“Oh here we go again,” Sam rolled his eyes.

“Buck, we’re about to graduate. You’re gonna miss your shot,” Steve added.

“I’ve seen you pick up women before, you know what you're doing,” Sam commented.

He put his head in his hands, “I know, but Y/N’s just different. I’ve never had it this bad before.”

“You need to shoot your shot or else you’re going to regret it,” Sam said. Bucky nodded his head, knowing he was right.

“Talk to her tomorrow night. Have a few drinks to loosen you up and just go for it,” Natasha advised.

“What am I supposed to say?”

“Just tell her how you feel,” Nat said.

“Think it over tonight before you go to bed,” Steve suggested.

Bucky hastily agreed and while the conversation shifted, he felt like he needed to sort out his thoughts. He finished what was left of his beer in one sip, “I’m gonna head back, I’ll see you guys at home.”

It was a short walk from the campus dive bar to Bucky’s apartment and his head was spinning. He kept trying to rehearse what he wanted to say, but he couldn’t keep his thoughts straight. He walked into the apartment and dropped his keys on the counter top, immediately heading to the fridge for another beer. He thought the alcohol might help him relax and sort through his feelings. Yet the words felt all jumbled up in his head. Then an idea hit him. When Bucky was a kid and he argued with his sister, his Ma always made both of them write a letter to each other to get their feelings out and sort through why they were so upset. That always gave him clarity on the situations, so what better way to organize his thoughts now. He grabbed a notebook and sat on the couch with his beer, determined to get his thoughts out.

Dear Y/N,

Since the first day I met you, I knew you were special. I’ve never had trouble talking to girls before, but with you I’m so worried about saying the wrong thing, so I tend to keep quiet. I have never been able to get you out of my head no matter how hard I try and I’m worried that I’ve missed my chance with you. Y/N, you are truly the most beautiful girl I have ever seen, but more than that, you are exactly the kind of girl I’ve been looking for. I love that you get just as worked up as Sam when we’re watching a sports game. And I love that you treat every single person you meet with kindness, even if they don’t deserve it. I love the witty remarks you make seemingly without thinking. I love that you can answer almost every question on Jeopardy before the contestants even buzz in. I love that you are always doing things for others before taking care of yourself. Everything you do is perfect in my eyes. You are the type of girl I want to take home to introduce to my parents, and they would adore you. I guess what I’m trying to say is…I’ve always had a huge crush on you and I’d be the luckiest guy in the world if you’d agree to a date with me.

Forever yours,

Bucky

He read the letter over and over again, trying to find ways to improve his words or add to it, but he ultimately grew tired. He ripped the page out of his notebook and folded it in half, writing Y/N’s name on the folded page. He finished his beer and retired to his room as he tried not to worry about tomorrow night’s party.

X

“Bucky!” Sam called, knocking on his door, “You almost ready?”

Bucky opened the door for his roommate. “Yeah I think so.” He looked himself over once more in the mirror, ran his fingers through his hair, and nodded.

“You look great. You know what you’re gonna say to her?”

“I wrote some of it out last night.”

“Let me see.”

“No way, it’s personal.”

“Come on man, I’m just trying to help you.”

“Dude, it’s fine.”

“Is this it?” Sam said, picking up the notebook paper with Y/N’s name on it. Bucky gave him a warning glare and Sam darted out of the room, reading the letter before Bucky caught up with him.

“Sam!” Bucky yelled, chasing after him. He lunged at Sam, but Sam was quicker and held him off. Bucky realized it was too late and he slumped into the couch with discontent.

“This is really nice and I can tell it’s genuine, but you can’t say this stuff to her. It’s gonna scare her away. You have to build the foundation first.”

“So what am I supposed to do?” Bucky asked, growing frustrated with his friend.

“Just talk to her, find something that you can connect with her on. And then if things go well, ask her out.”

“I’m overthinking this so much.”

“You just gotta be yourself and if she doesn’t like you then she’s crazy.”

“You guys ready to go?” Steve suddenly emerged into the living room. Sam and Bucky nodded, grabbed their keys from the kitchen counter, and left for the party.

X

Bucky took a deep breath as he stepped inside the party. There were a lot of familiar faces which put him at ease and Nat greeted them with a round of tequila shots which helped cut his nerves. He had to stop overthinking. He kept replaying Sam’s word in his head, just be yourself.

Bucky walked into the kitchen in search of a drink when he saw Y/N pulling a tray of jello shots out of the fridge.

“Hey Bucky!” she smiled at him. “Jello shot?” she offered him.

“Only if you take one with me,” he replied.

“You don’t have to twist my arm.” She handed him a plastic ramekin filled with blue jello and she took one for herself. “Here’s to…a great night,” she said, holding up her shot to tap Bucky’s.

“Cheers,” he responded and they both swallowed the tainted gelatin.

“They taste okay? Too strong?” she asked.

He shook his head, “Perfect jello to vodka ratio.”

She smiled, “Good, I’m gonna go pass the rest of these around. Oh, there’s a keg with cups out in the hall or if you want, you can help yourself to my secret stash of Miller High Life in the fridge,” she winked.

“Thanks Y/N.” She walked out of the kitchen to the party and Bucky helped himself to a beer from the fridge. He stayed in the kitchen for a moment to catch his breath. He considered that to be a successful interaction and it gave him the confidence he needed to continue.

He was pulled from his thoughts when he heard someone calling his name. He joined the party in the living room and found a folding table sprinkled with red solo cups.

“Come play beer pong,” Steve waved him over, as Natasha set up the game. Bucky was never one to turn down a challenge and moved to the opposite side of the table.

“I need a partner,” Bucky scanned the room looking for Sam.

“Oh I’ll play!” a familiar voice said. Bucky froze and noticed the knowing smirk on Natasha's face. Y/N slid in next to him and elbowed his arm, “You think we can take ‘em?” she said.

“Absolutely. I hear you’re a stud at beer pong.”

She smiled and shrugged, “I won’t deny that.”

Y/N and Natasha each took a ball for the face off that would determine who would shoot first. Y/N sank a cup easily, while Nat’s shot hit the rim of a cup and bounced into Bucky’s hands.

“You wanna shoot first?” he asked her.

“No, you go,” she offered. Bucky lined himself up at the table and took his first shot, sinking the front cup.

“Oh, we’ve got this,” Y/N smiled. She stood at the center of the table and tossed the ball with a casual ease. Her shot sailed through the air and easily landed in one of the back corner cups. Steve and Natasha groaned in tandem as they pulled the corner cup away and rolled the ping pong balls back to the other side of the table.

They beat Steve and Nat with ease and welcomed their next challengers, Thor and Loki. The two continued making shots at a rapid pace and they found themselves running the table as a line of people formed to play them next. As the victories poured in, they became more comfortable with each other. The celebrations started with high fives which quickly turned into double high fives, and then suddenly, Y/N was lightly massaging Bucky’s shoulders as he focused on the cups for his upcoming shot. The contact intensified as they secured a come from behind win by sinking the last two cups back to back. Y/N made the last shot and immediately jumped into Bucky’s arms and he picked her up and spun her around. It happened so naturally and Bucky couldn’t help but notice his nerves had evaporated away and his overactive mind had shut off.

Eventually Nat came in and put an end to beer pong, clearing the table for flip cup instead. Bucky left the room to use the bathroom and when he returned, Y/N was nowhere to be found. He assumed she’d join in on flip cup but he didn't see her in the crowd. He caught Natasha’s eye and like a mindreader she signaled to the back porch and gave him a sly smile. He grabbed two beers from the fridge and headed outside.

Y/N was out on the back deck, studying the night sky. When the door opened, she turned around and eased up when she noticed it was Bucky.

“Hey,” was all he said. He stood next to her and placed a can of beer in front of her.

“Thanks,” she said, cracking the beer and taking a sip.

“Not a fan of flip cup?” he asked, trying to make conversation.

“I just needed a break from winning,” she joked.

He chuckled and said, “We make a pretty good team, huh?”

“We do,” she smiled at him before returning her attention to the sky.

“But seriously, are you okay?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’m good. I was just feeling a little claustrophobic in there. Needed some fresh air.”

“I get that. I can leave if you want some alone time. I’ll guard the door and make sure no one else bothers you.”

“No you should stay. It’s nice to have some company.”

They sat in silence for a while, staring up at the sky. Bucky drank his beer to find the courage to speak up.

“The stars are really bright tonight. You can see a bunch of the constellations.”

“You know constellations?” she asked. He nodded and she asked, “Will you show me?”

He moved a little closer to her and pointed up to the sky, “See that really bright star right there? That’s the North Star. And that’s the end of the Little Dipper’s tail.”

“Okay I see that.”

“And then from the North Star, if you move to the right…that first star forms the bottom of the big dipper.”

“Oh wow.”

“Now look a little bit lower and you’ll see three stars real close together in a row.”

She was quiet and her brow furrowed as she scanned the sky. “I’m not…” she trailed off, “I’m not seeing it.”

Bucky took a step closer to her and he hovered his head right above her shoulder to better see from her vantage point. He pointed to the three stars in question and connected them with his finger.

“See right here?” he spoke into her ear.

“Oh…yeah I see it.”

“That’s Orion’s belt. And if you move up there…those are the shoulders. And down here are the legs.” He traced the outline of the constellation as he spoke.

“That’s amazing,” she breathed. She turned her head towards him, their faces inches apart. “How do you know all this?”

“I took an astronomy class last semester.”

She let out a small laugh and he did the same before adding, “I know it’s not a great story.”

“No but it’s cool that you know this stuff. Show me some more. He continued to show her the constellations that he knew until he eventually ran out. They stood there together in silence, hearing nothing but the muffled music from the party, reminding them of the other world waiting for them inside.

“So what’s your plan after graduation?” she asked him.

“I haven’t quite figured it out yet. I know I’m gonna go back to New York and stay with my Ma for a bit. Other than that I don’t really know. What about you?”

“I’m heading to New York too actually. I got a job working in finance on Wall Street.”

“Wow, that’s impressive.”

She shrugged it off, “It’s fine. It’s mostly just because of my parents’ connections that I got the offer. I’m not even sure if that’s what I want to do.”

“Yeah but at least it’s a start. If you don’t like it you can always make a change.”

“I guess that’s true.”

“Well maybe I’ll see you around, in New York,” he added.

“Yeah, that’d be great.” She studied him for a moment and he tried to ignore it but he couldn’t.

“What are you thinking?” he asked.

“I’ve never seen this side of you before. Truthfully, up until a few hours ago I didn’t think you liked me very much.”

He looked at her with a confused look, “That’s impossible. Everyone likes you.”

“I don’t know, you’ve always been a little cold towards me. And I wasn’t sure if it was something I did or said or if you just didn’t like me. But I’d like for us to be friends.”

“Y/N…” he started, running his hands through his hair as he reviewed the bullet points in his head.

“Oh god, you don’t want to be friends do you?”

“No, no it's not that. But I want to tell you that-”

“Hey Buck, ready to head home?” Sam interrupted, sticking his head out the back door.

“Yeah just give me a minute.”

“Come on man, pizza place closes in 5.”

“I’ll…I’ll meet you there.”

“Oh it’s okay Bucky. You can go. I should clean up a little bit anyway,” she said. Bucky gave her a forced smile and walked toward Sam to head back inside.

The minute they reached the street, Bucky punched Sam in the arm.

“You fucking asshole!”

“What the hell man?” Sam said.

“I was just about to tell her.”

“You were out there for hours man, I figured you’ asked her out already.”

Bucky sighed, “I’ll never have that chance again.”

“If it’s meant to be, it’ll all work out.” Sam was always so happy-go-lucky when it came to love and it frustrated Bucky to no end. As they walked home, he tried to focus on the positives instead of his missed opportunity.

X

Nat woke up the next morning with a splitting headache. Steve was propped up next to her, reading his latest World War II book.

“Good morning,” he said and she groaned in response.

“Did I really leave my own party early?” she asked.

“You did,” he confirmed.

“Why did you let me do that?” she whined.

“You were insistent and you know how you get when you’ve made up your mind.”

“I guess that’s true,” she took a deep breath and added, “I should probably get back and help Y/N clean up.” She climbed out of the bed and gathered her things, determined to get home before the hangover truly hit her.

When she went to grab her keys from the counter top, she noticed something. There was a piece of notebook paper folded in half with her roommate’s name on it. Natasha snatched the paper, opened it up and read the first sentence. It was a love letter. From Bucky. Nat didn’t read any further, but she slipped the note into her bag as she left. She knew this was probably never meant for Y/N’s eyes, but she thought Bucky could use a little nudge in the right direction.

X

Bucky woke up with a smile on his face. Despite how his night ended, he played over the memories of the night before and realized he connected with Y/N. He felt like there was a definite potential for more, so he decided to make another opportunity for himself. But first, he wanted to reread his words. He went to grab the letter from his dresser only to find it wasn’t there.

“Ugh, Sam…” he said to himself. He walked out to the living room searching for the letter. “Where did he put it…” he said to himself. He pounded on Sam’s door, waking him up. “What?” he said through the door.

“Where did you put the note?”

“The note?”

“Yes…the note…”

Sam opened the door, “I thought I put it on the counter when we left.”

“Well it’s not there.”

“It has to be there,” Sam said, rushing past Bucky. He glanced around the room and it was nowhere to be found.

“It’s not here,” Bucky reiterated.

“I’m sure Steve just threw it out. You know that he doesn’t like clutter.”

Bucky stared daggers into him and Sam retreated into his room. Bucky tried to ignore his unease and focus on his next move.

X

“Hey there roomie. How ya feeling?” Y/N asked as Nat trudged through the door.

“How do you think?”

“There’s coffee in the kitchen if that helps.” Nat poured herself a cup and joined Y/N on the couch in the living room.

“I have something for you.” Natasha pulled out the letter from her purse and handed it over.

“What is this?”

“Just read it,” Nat said, trying not to obviously study her roommate’s reaction.

Y/N read the letter and her expression shifted multiple times, ranging from flattery to confusion to happiness. She subconsciously put her hand over her heart as a blush crept up her face. When she was finished, she looked up at Natasha in confusion.

“What is this, Nat?”

She shrugged, “I don’t know, I didn’t read it but I found it sitting on the counter at the guys’ house when I left.”

“What am I supposed to do now?”

“Go talk to Bucky,” Nat said, as if it was obvious what she should do next. Y/N sat there, contemplating what her options were and concluded that Natasha was right. Y/N went to take a long shower in an effort to rinse off her hangover and delay the awkward talk she was about to have with Bucky.

X

Bucky was working on crafting a text to Y/N when there was a knock at the door. He stood to answer it, assuming it was Nat to hang out with Steve, but he was surprised to find Y/N standing on his doorstep. He then realized he wasn’t wearing a shirt and his cheeks immediately flushed as he noticed her looking at his sculpted abdomen.

“Hi Bucky,” she breathed, finally meeting his eyes. “Can we talk?”

He scratched the back of his neck and Y/N watched his bicep flex and tried to hide the impact his muscles were having on her.

“Come on in,” he opened the door for her and she made herself comfortable on the couch. “I’ll be right back,” he announced as he fled to his room to grab a shirt. He re-emerged into the living room with a skin tight t-shirt and sat next down with her on the couch.

“So what’s up?” he started.

“Well…” she said, as she pulled out the letter.

“Shit,” he exhaled. “Where did you get that?” He immediately tensed up.

“Nat gave it to me.”

He froze for a second, trying to understand how that happened and when he solved the puzzle he immediately put his head in his hands, “She must’ve grabbed it from the counter.”

“It doesn’t matter how I got it, but can we talk about it?”

“Y/N, you were never supposed to see that.”

“Well why not?” He looked up at that. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“What was I supposed to say? ‘Y/N, I think I’m in love with you?’”

Her breath caught in her throat. Hearing those words come out of his mouth was unexpected. But what was more unexpected were the butterflies dancing around her stomach as her cheeks flushed.

“Is this how you really feel?” she asked, holding up the letter.

He made eye contact with her but all he could do was nod. She let out a deep sigh and he couldn’t look at her. He leaned forward, forearms on his thighs, as he stared down at the floor. She didn’t feel the same way. He could tell from her demeanor that she was about to let him down lightly.

“Bucky…” she reached out and placed a hand over his, “it’s just that…we’ve wasted so much time.”

He looked up at her, waiting for more, “I’ve had a crush on you forever dude.”

“What?” He looked at her in disbelief.

“As much as I enjoy spending time with your roommates, there was a reason I was always hanging around with you guys.”

“So…what are you saying?” he said, unable to form coherent thoughts.

She did the first thing that came to mind. She reached over and placed her hands on his jaw. She gently rubbed the stubble on his cheeks with her thumb and she said, “I’m saying that I like you.” She smiled and looked at him with adoration and Bucky couldn’t help himself.

He slowly leaned forward, giving her plenty of time to pull back. But she didn’t. It almost felt like she was pulling him in ever so slightly. He paused when they were centimeters apart, more out of uncertainty than anything. But she closed the gap, unable to stand the tension any longer. Their lips brushed together, softly at first. And then he felt her mouth curve up into a smile and he gained confidence. He moved one arm around her waist and his other hand landed on her jaw as he intensified the kiss. She moved her hand from his jaw to the back of his neck and her fingers played with his hair. The two pulled away, out of breath and a huge smile spread across Bucky’s face.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

“Mmm…I think I do,” she said, glancing at the letter.

“You’re never going to let that go are you.”

“Are you kidding? I loved it. No one’s ever done that for me before. Even if it wasn’t completely intentional.”

He kissed her again and he didn’t want this moment to ever end. Bucky realized he’d have to thank Nat, and Sam for that matter. Without them he wouldn’t be here. They parted yet again and Bucky said, “Not that I want you to leave, but you should probably go home and get ready.”

“Ready for what?”

“I’m taking you out to dinner tonight.”

“Really?” she beamed at him.

He planted a sweet kiss on the tip of her nose, “Darling, I’ve been waiting years to take you out. I don’t want to wait anymore.”

She pecked his lips and said, “Pick me up at 8.” She gathered her things and he walked her to the front door. She stepped outside and then turned around before she walked away.

“I’m really glad you wrote that letter, even if you weren’t actually going to give it to me.”

He nodded and pulled her into a tight hug, “Me too.”

mentally taking a drag of my mental cigarette because I don’t smoke but life has been very smokable lately