#barn conversion interior

[newtonlara]

Galley Dorset Mid-sized modern galley home bar with wood countertops for the home bar

[keisukeabe]

Dorset Home Bar Galley An illustration of a mid-sized, modern galley home bar with wood countertops

[mary1in]

Home Bar in Dorset An illustration of a mid-sized, modern galley home bar with wood countertops and a drop-in sink

[izuminokamiis]

Dorset Home Bar Galley An illustration of a mid-sized, modern galley home bar with wood countertops

[killstiles]

Galley Home Bar in Dorset

[arc-hus]

Cascina Otto House, Cossano Belbo, Italy - Studio Wok

[cozycottagelife]

The most beautiful barn conversion

Via 📸: myhouseupstate

[indigokashmir]

Minimalism in Upstate New York.

This Garden Barn Functions as a Guest House, and the Interior Is Incredibly Beautiful When an executive from a Swedish cosmetics company purchased a farm in Upstate New York, she adopted a subtle Scandinavian style to attain pastoral tranquility in the United States.

All photos via Country Living Magazine. Photography by Annie Schlechter.

[reclaimfoodandfarming]

Large country brown two-story brick gable roof idea

[mauswyx]

soft-spoken s/o

TLDR: Thomas Hewitt, Brahms Heelshire, Jennifer Check, and Bo Sinclair's reactions to having a fairly quiet s/o WORD COUNT: 1k CW: none, fluff AO3

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ .

Thomas Hewitt

ironically would not be used to the silence at first; he’s used to chatters and screaming! He’s never met someone who speaks so quietly 

will lean towards you when you speak, listening intensely 

finds your silence comforting after the initial shock and enjoys your quiet presence as he goes about his business

quickly adapts to communicating with you via body language and facial expressions, etc; it is a method he’s familiar with after all

takes great pride that he’s the only one that can read your mind or decipher your mumbling

He couldn’t help but spare you a glance every so often as you sat at the opposite end of the barn as he worked. You were mending a shirt Luda Mae scavenged from some luggage…or at least trying to. Your bottom lip was swollen from being gnawed on and your brow was furrowed–the needlework must be tedious, he concluded. He turned his attention back to his work, a few minutes passed before he decided to glance up again only to find that you were muttering to yourself, trying to rethread the string through the eye.

Despite finding your frustration amusing, he couldn’t take your suffering anymore. He strode over to you, gently enveloping your hand in his before plucking the needle away. He made quick work of the thread, giving you a knowing look as he set back to work, but not before hearing a quiet “Thank you Tommy.” 

Brahms Heelshire

does not enjoy that he can’t coax loud reactions from you; he works so hard to mess with you and you don’t say anything?! How rude!

will switch gears and will purposefully pretend not to know what you’re gesturing to or that he can’t hear you to annoy you; he can play by your game but he won’t play fair

he’s been (watching) studying you through the walls so it’s quite easy for him to pick up on your body language to know what you’re feeling or wanting of him 

actually likes your voice and will do everything in his power to get you to use it; even if it means getting a scolding 

bedtime is his favorite part of the day because he gets to listen to you read; will pick out exceptionally long books to listen to you just a while longer 

Echoes etched the room as you tapped your foot against the dusty rug. He had been in a mood all afternoon: being especially disobedient and ignoring your calls from within the walls. He was being so difficult that you had no choice but to search for him, though it proved to be in vain as you couldn’t find him anywhere. A worried knot began to form in your stomach. There was only one thing you could do. With a deep inhale you rolled your head on your shoulders before letting out a shout.

“Brahms!” Your voice was hoarse–not used to being at such a volume, rolling your eyes in frustration “Please come out!” The scraping of wood met your ears shortly before his long arms wrapped around your waist from behind. You bit the interior of your cheek as you could hear the smugness in his voice, having won his game.

“There’s no need to shout.”

Jennifer Check

“they said no pickles.” embodiment 

at first, mistakes your quietness for being flustered by her and she amps up her prowess only to realize you’re like this…all the time…with everyone 

will speak for you whether it’s ordering your food or answering a question on your behalf; is actually exceptionally good at knowing what you want without much effort 

actually doesn’t mind the silence when you don’t feel like talking—grateful that you two can just share a moment together or that she can have someone to rant to

will not make a big deal if you feel talkative, she’ll casually continue the conversation in hopes it’ll make you feel more comfortable

“-and who does that? It’s bullshit!” she scoffed, gently scraping the tips of her long nails on the back of your hand as she laid next to you. You silently nodded in agreement, staring up at her face: her nose was scrunched and her eyes were glazed over, lost in thought–before suddenly snapping down to stare into your own. “I mean, you don’t think I’m in the wrong do you?” 

You couldn’t help letting your lip curl up at her pout, she had definitely been the cause of the altercation but you’d never tell her that; instead, you opted to halfheartedly shake your head. As expected, your poor acting didn’t go unnoticed and her eyes widened before playfully swatting her hand at your stomach.

“No way! You’re supposed to be on my side!”

Bo Sinclair

“huh” x5

cannot understand what you’re saying for the life of him and gets annoyed very easily; more so at his own inability to comprehend you when everyone else seems to understand you just fine

interrupts you when you’re speaking, trying to guess what you’re saying instead of just listening 

puts on a big show to do as you asked when he does finally pick up on what you’re saying 

often wrongly infers what you’re saying but at least he’s trying

“Darlin’…'' he groaned, running a hand down his face “-you’re gunna needa work with me…” You huffed out a breath of air, already annoyed at having had to already repeat yourself twice and repeating yourself a third time honestly wasn’t even worth it; you just wanted the step-ladder to reach something in top-stock, but at this point you’d rather just climb the shelves themselves than have to be stuck in this never ending game of charades. You were half-tempted to do just that, but the look on Bo’s face made you relent; he had been so patient the least you could do was not give up on him.

“I need the ladder…” you said again, this time trying to enunciate your words as best as possible and to your surprise his face lit up. Not a great sign. 

“Bladder?” he repeated, not waiting for a response as he sped towards the shop counter, “Don’t worry baby! I’ll get the restroom key!”

[dreamwritesimagines]

The Eye of the Hurricane [9] - Engagement

A.N: Here’s the new chapter my loves! ❤️ Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback, you made my day! ❤️I hope you’ll like this chapter as well and please don’t forget to tell me what you think! ❤️

Summary: A marriage decision leads to an honest conversation about expectations.

Word Count: 2700

Pairing: MobBoss!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Violence, death, guns, crime, blood, explicit language, drinking. This is an AU, friendly reminder that I don’t condone any of the actions depicted on this story and please read with care.

Series Masterlist

For a couple of seconds, he gawked at you in complete silence before he managed to pull himself together.

“You—you’re saying yes?”

“I’m saying yes.”

“Seriously?”

“Please don’t ask me again because I have this feeling that I’ll change my mind if I think about it longer than a second,” you stated and he nodded fervently.

“Right,” he said. “Sure, I…wow. Okay, we’re—we’re getting married then.”

“Don’t say that either, I am not ready to hear it out loud,” you said with a sigh but before he could answer, a soft voice reached you both.

“Bucky?”

He closed his eyes shut for a moment as he scrunched up his face and you turned your head to look at the top of the stairs where a pretty girl in an oversized shirt –his shirt, if you had to guess— was leaning to the steel handrail.

“Hi,” she said. “Um, who are you?”

“His fiancée,” you stated, trying your hardest to ignore the pang of jealousy in your stomach and her eyes widened.

“Oh I didn’t—I didn’t know—”

“Neither did I when I woke up today,” you said with a click of your tongue. “Can you leave us please?”

“Sure!” she said as she rushed back to what you could only assume was the bedroom and Bucky shot you an apologetic look.

“Charm I’m sorry, if I knew…”

You walked past him, looking around the huge living room. Even you had to admit it looked incredibly beautiful and sleek, and the clear view of the city that you could see from the floor-to-ceiling windows was absolutely breathtaking. It was exactly what you would come up with if someone asked you what Bucky's apartment would look like; luxurious yet dark.

It didn’t mean you would tell him that though.

“I’m not moving in here by the way, this place is a dump,” you forced yourself to say, “If I wanted industrial interior, I’d buy myself a factory.”

“Right, sure—”

“That could be a fun project though,” you muttered more to yourself as the girl appeared at the top of the stairs again, and rushed downstairs, grabbing her coat off the rack.

“Sorry again,” she said without looking you in the eye and walked out of the apartment, and you heaved a deep sigh.

“None of this will be happening from now on by the way,” Bucky said in a haste and you rolled your eyes, then turned around to look at him.

“I don’t care about you enough to have that conversation with you,” you said. “I don’t give a fuck who you fuck, but you’re not going to make me look like an idiot in front of other people so when it inevitably happens, you’ll keep it a secret.”

“You don’t have to worry about that at all,” he said, his voice firm and you crossed your arms.

“So then,” you said. “I feel like we should both talk about the conditions before taking it to the families and the lawyers and everything.”

“I’m good with your conditions,” he said and you shot him a glare.

“You don’t even know my conditions.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

You kept your eyes on him, a slight frown pulling your brows together before you took a deep breath and took off your coat to throw it over the couch.

“Either way, I think we should talk about it,” you insisted and leaned on your hip. “So do you have actual booze in here or are you going to pull out a homemade barrel or something?”

He smiled slightly.

“Take a seat sweetheart,” he said. “I’ll bring the wine.”

“And put a shirt on!” you said as you made your way to the table, ignoring the way your heart skipped a beat. “This is a business deal, honestly. There has to be a dress code.”

                                            *

When Bucky came to the table, he did in fact have his shirt on and he was carrying a bottle of wine with two glasses. He filled one and handed it to you, then filled his own and sat down. You took a sip, pleasantly surprised at the taste and lowered your glass, leaning back.

“Alright,” he said. “Tell me your conditions.”

You swirled the wine in your glass, deep in thought.

“Well first of all, we need to have a time table,” you said. “I don’t want to stay married to you for the rest of my life, and I’m pretty sure you share the sentiment.”

A small smile twitched the corners of his lips but he didn’t comment on it.

“But we can’t get a divorce as soon as I take over because that will lead to a lot of questions and I won’t have the time for distractions, the taking over process is chaotic enough,” you said. “I can’t be making any mistakes, especially considering I already have a rival.”

“Calling Ian a rival makes him sound more important than he actually is,” Bucky commented. “But I agree. We already know some of the families can disagree with this idea.”

“Stark?” you asked and he nodded.

“At least,” he said. “We have Steve and Sam’s support, my family and your family of course, but the rest…”

“You think Romanoff would disagree?”

Bucky thought for a moment.

“Probably, but I can talk to Nat I think,” he said. “She’d hear me out.”

“Barton?”  

“Barton is not going to do anything Nat disagrees with,” he said. “If we have Nat, we have Clint.”

“So that leaves us Stark,” you said, pursing your lips. “Who talks to him, you or me?”

He shot you an apologetic look.

“I mean we may try to sell it as love but at the end of the day, everyone will think about the business side of things,” he said. “It could be better if your father talked to him actually. He already dislikes me enough, and we’re changing the power balance in the city by doing this.”

“Alright,” you said. “My dad could do that.”

“Next?”

“I want your word that I will be included in everything,” you said. “None of the bullshit the earlier generation pulled. I will be in every meeting and I will be included in every single decision.”

He nodded. “Yeah, figured as much.”

“I mean it Bucky,” you said, looking him in the eye. “We will be equals completely.”

“We will be,” he assured you. “I swear on my honor.”

“And I’m not changing my surname.”

He threw his head back. “Charm…”

“Out of question.”

“Charm if I’m going to get you into those meetings, you need to have my surname,” he insisted. “You know the rules. We need to give them an actual reason if you can’t be there as an heir.”

You thought for a moment and cleared your throat.

“Hyphenated it is,” you said. “I’ll keep mine and add yours.”

“It’d be better if—”

“I can’t take over my father’s territory if my last name is Barnes,” you pointed out. “I’ll use both, it’s fine.”

Bucky thought for a moment, then licked his lips and shrugged his shoulders.

“Fine,” he grumbled even though his tone signaled it was anything but fine. You sipped your wine, leaning back.

“Goes without saying that we won’t have any children in the meantime so should we even talk about it?”

“I think we should,” Bucky said, a small smile curling his lips. “Just in case.”

“Just in case?” you repeated and he rolled his eyes.

“It’ll be on the prenup just like everything else,” he reminded you. “And our families will see those prenups, so it’d be better if we covered it beforehand.”

You huffed out and waved a dismissive hand.

“Fine,” you said. “The usual, right? The first born is the heir…”

“The second born is the spare, yeah,” Bucky said. “Although, if you’re keeping your surname…”

“Our children would as well,” you finished his sentence for him and let out a dry laugh. “So then, is the firstborn yours or mine?”

“Maybe it’ll be twins,” he joked and you shook your head.

“We’ll say that the firstborn rules both until the second born is ready, and then divide my territory and yours accordingly,” you said and Bucky raised his brows.

“But until then, both territories?” he asked. “That’s a lot of pressure to put on one person.”

“That person doesn’t exist and will not exist,” you reminded him. “It’s just gonna be a hypothetical article in the prenup, that’s it.”

“And if we want a divorce—”

“When we have a divorce,” you corrected him and Bucky hummed.

“Any specific reque—”

“The weekend house,” you cut him off and he let out a small laugh.

“How long have you had your eye on it?”

“Oh, so long,” you said with a grin. “It’s really pretty.”

Bucky held up his hands, gesturing surrender. “It’s yours then."

“I mean I know I can’t just get it without giving something in return so how about you? What do you want in the divorce?”

“Nothing.”

You blinked a couple of times, gawking at him.

“You want nothing?” you asked him. “Bullshit. Say your price.”

“I don’t need anything.”

“You’re going to get me in the business and help me take over and you want nothing?” you insisted. “No fucking way. What is your game here?”

“I don’t have any.”

“Why are you doing this then?” you asked with a frown. “Seriously. What’s in it for you?”

“My reasons are my own.”

“Bucky…”

“But I do have one request now that you mention it,” he said and you nodded your head.

“Yeah tell me. What is it?”

“Throughout the time we stay married,” he said, taking a sip of his wine. “No sleeping with other people.”

“…I’m not going to sleep with you,” you managed to say after a pause and he shrugged his shoulders.

“We’re going into war with an outsider while pushing you to the top,” he said. “Any kind of issue in our marriage, including a whisper of a rumor could work against that. We need to present a united front to all the other families and our people. Can’t fight a war on that many fronts, you know that.”

As much as you hated to admit, as it turned out, Bucky was actually smart when it came to how things worked in business. You nibbled on your lip, trying to put your thoughts in order before sticking your nose in the air.

“That’s a two-way street,” you told him. “If I’m behaving like the perfect wife, you’re going to behave like the perfect husband.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Bucky, I’m serious,” you said, looking him in the eye. “Don’t go behind my back and make me kill your mistresses.”

“Don’t go behind my back and make me kill your boyfriends,” he replied and you took a deep breath, then downed your wine and stretched out your hand.

“Pleasure doing business with you,” you said and he chuckled, then reached out to take your hand into his, sending a pleasant warmth from your hand to your whole body.

“Likewise,” he said, his voice soft. “Let’s make you the queen, princess.”

                                              *

 You and Bucky decided to tell your family about your decision that weekend at their favorite restaurant. It would at least give you some time to get your story straight and you figured it would play into the lie; that you and Bucky had something for each other all along and once you got together you didn’t want to lose any time to get married.

Of course your closest friends were going to know about it, it would be impossible to keep it from Becca, Sarah, Steve and Sam because they’d had the first row to every single fight whenever you were within each other’s sight not to mention heard about how much you two disliked each other for years now.

But as far as anyone else was concerned, it was the happy ending to a decade long crush on both parts.

That night, you decided to stay in a hotel until the weekend. Not only did you not want to talk to Ian or your father, but it would also work in your favor; it was Bucky’s favorite hotel, it was in his territory and he would make sure to stay with you in the honeymoon suit every night until the weekend so you were pretty sure the rumors would reach your families way before you told them.

Your bodyguards were still on your father’s payroll after all.

You sipped your champagne, your feet propped up on the small coffee table across from the couch you were sitting on, the fluffy bathrobe wrapped tight around your body as you changed the channel on the TV but the knock on the door made you turn your head. Heaving a sigh, you pushed yourself off the bed and went to the door, then put a bright smile on your face and swung open the door.

“Finally!” you exclaimed, then gasped at the huge bouquet of roses Bucky was holding. “Oh my God!”

“Hi beautiful,” Bucky said with a smirk and you stole a look at both your father’s and Bucky’s men in the hallway, then turned to him.

“You shouldn’t have!” you giggled as you grabbed his arm to pull him into the suit, and closed the door behind him.

“Flowers are a nice touch,” you commented, the lovesick smile disappearing from your lips even if your heart did a happy flip and Bucky winked at you.

“I’m glad you like them,” he said as you took them from him, then walked to the open kitchen to pour water into the empty wine decanter before putting the flowers into it.

He leaned back to the kitchen island. “Did you talk to Becca yet?”

“Tomorrow,” you said. “I slept the whole day away today, barely did anything. Must be the stress after yesterday.”  

“Is she serious with that girl by the way?” Bucky asked you. “Leila?”

“I’m not going to tell you anything about Becca.”

He tilted his head. “You and I are going to get married—”

“And she’s my best friend so she’s still above you on my loyalty list,” you pointed out. “Marriage is one thing, friendship is another.”

“Should I at least threaten the girl so that she doesn’t break her heart?” Bucky asked and you rolled your eyes.

“No, Leila is a sweetheart,” you said as you walked past him, then threw yourself on the couch to grab the remote. He followed you and rested his hands on the back of the couch you were sitting on, the closeness of his body making your stomach do a pleasant flip for some reason.

“So what are we watching?”

“We are not watching anything,” you said, trying to focus on the screen. “I’m watching The Bachelor.”

He let out a groan. “Seriously?”

“There’s another TV upstairs, go watch whatever you want to watch there,” you said, grabbing your champagne glass again and tilted your head back so that you could look at him, and Bucky shot you a mischievous grin.

“Marriage requires quality time together, Charm.”

“Who told you that lie?” you asked, turning your glances to the TV and he chuckled.

“Steve sent me an article about it today when I told him the news.”

“Not Sam?”

“No, Sam sent me the address of a great psychiatrist,” he said. “For couples therapy and marriage counseling.”   

“That’s much more useful than an article,” you pointed out and he squeezed at your shoulder making your heart skip a beat.

“I’m going to take a shower,” he said as he walked to the hanging stairs and someone knocked on the door, making you frown and look at Bucky over your shoulder.

“Room service,” Bucky answered before you could ask. “I already know your favorite so I ordered for both of us.”

“How do you know my favorite?”  

“I pay attention,” he said as he started climbing the stairs, unbuttoning his shirt. “Don’t open the door yet though, will you? Wouldn’t want my men to think I last five minutes.”

“I’m sure that would be an improvement for you,” you said with a scoff and he tsk tsked.

“If you want to see just how wrong you are, all you gotta do is ask nicely princess.”

“That will never happen!” you called out and slipped a little on the couch when you heard him close the bathroom door, then heaved a sigh.  

“Great,” you muttered to yourself as the water started running. “My honeymoon should be so much fun.”

Chapter 10

[deliciousangelfestival]

Flour Power - End

Character: Amnesia!Bucky x Baker!Female Character

Summary: A baker helps a stranger, only to discover that this individual not only aids the bakery but also brings trouble along with him

A/N: Because Bucky got amnesia, his name was temporarily changed to Bob.

Chap 1, Chap 2 , End.

Main Masterlist || support: Ko-fi

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

The closed sign had been placed at the door, signaling the end of another busy day at the bakery. With the customers gone, only the four of you remained, gathered around a table in the dimly lit interior.

You poured a steaming cup of tea for the newcomer, who had introduced himself as Steve. His gaze lingered on Bob, who seemed unfazed by the attention.

"He got amnesia? No wonder why he doesn't remember me," Steve remarked, his tone tinged with a mixture of concern and disappointment.

You nodded in understanding, acknowledging the gravity of Bob's situation. "So, his real name is Bucky?" you inquired, seeking clarification.

Steve nodded solemnly. "His nickname. His real name is James Buchanan Barnes," he confirmed, his voice tinged with a hint of nostalgia.

"Ooh," you and Tammy exclaimed simultaneously, sharing a moment of realization. The revelation of Bob's true identity added a layer of depth to his enigmatic persona, and the name James Buchanan Barnes seemed to suit him far better than the simple moniker of "Bob."

Steve looked at Bucky, his expression resembling that of someone who had reunited with a long-lost friend. "You don't remember me?" he asked, his voice tinged with a hint of sadness.

Bucky remained silent for a moment before he shook his head.

Steve let out a heavy sigh, his shoulders sagging with disappointment. "Did they do something to your brain?" he murmured, his concern evident in his tone.

Confused by the exchange, you interjected, seeking clarity. "What do you mean? Who exactly is Bucky?" you inquired, your curiosity piqued by the cryptic conversation.

Steve took a sip of his tea before fixing his gaze on you and Tammy, his eyes bearing a warning look that sent a shiver down your spine.

"You have to keep every word that comes out of my mouth a secret," he cautioned, his voice low and serious.

You and Tammy exchanged uneasy glances before slowly nodding in agreement, understanding the gravity of the situation.

As you watched Steve, you couldn't help but feel a sense of foreboding, realizing that there was more to Bucky's past than met the eye.

Steve explained, "Me and Bucky are black agents. To put it simply, we're always sent on off-the-record missions."

Tammy whispered in awe, "Woah, that's cool."

You glanced at Bucky, a newfound understanding dawning on you. No wonder he was so talented—he possessed a multitude of skills.

Steve sighed heavily. "Bucky has an excellent success record. But suddenly, we couldn't locate his whereabouts for a year."

As Steve spoke, you couldn't help but recall the doctor's words about Bucky's condition—wounds from bullets and knives, along with poison in his blood. The extent of his suffering weighed heavily on your mind.

Instinctively, you reached out and placed your palm on Bucky's hand, offering him a silent gesture of comfort and support. You couldn't imagine the pain he had endured.

Feeling the warmth of your touch, Bucky looked up and offered you a grateful smile, his eyes reflecting a mixture of gratitude and resilience.

Steve observed the interaction with keen interest, his gaze shifting between you and Bucky. It was clear that he recognized the bond that had formed between you, and his expression softened slightly, acknowledging the depth of your connection.

Steve cleared his throat before speaking, his tone serious. "So, me and the others have been searching everywhere for Bucky. Then our facial recognition system gave us an alert that Bucky is still alive."

Tammy chimed in enthusiastically, addressing Bucky directly. "Isn't that great, Bob? Oops, sorry, Bucky. You found your friend."

You couldn't help but feel a pang of anxiety as you processed Steve's words. "Does that mean you want to take Bucky home? I forgot to ask, does he have family?" you asked, your voice tinged with concern.

Steve shook his head solemnly. "No, this man is a loner," he replied, his expression grave.

A sense of relief washed over you at Steve's response, though you couldn't quite pinpoint why.

"If Bucky wants, I want to bring him back to the team," said Steve.

"No," Bucky replied firmly, catching everyone off guard with his quick response.

Sensing the tension in the air, you attempted to diffuse the situation. "Perhaps he still doesn't trust you yet. Give it some time," you suggested, offering a reassuring smile.

Steve fell silent for a moment, contemplating your words. "I understand. I'll come back another time," he conceded, his tone tinged with disappointment.

Steve rose from his seat, straightened his suit, and left a generous tip on the table. He glanced at you and Tammy with gratitude. "Thank you for saving my friend," he said before exiting the shop.

You watched as Steve's figure disappeared from view, noting the dejected expression on his face.

Turning to Bucky, you found that he had already slipped away to the kitchen, his departure as silent as his footsteps. It dawned on you that his training as a black agent had instilled in him the need for stealth and discretion.

Meanwhile, Tammy chimed in with a playful remark. "That Steve guy is handsome," she commented, breaking the solemn atmosphere with her lighthearted observation.

🗡️

At the back door, Bucky stood like a silent sentinel, his gaze fixed on the darkness beyond as he prepared to take out the trash.

As he moved to re-enter the bakery, a sound caught his attention, causing him to pause. Instinctively, he closed the door behind him and turned to face the dark alley. "Come out," he called out calmly, his voice betraying no hint of fear.

From the shadows emerged a figure, slowly materializing into the form of Steve. Without warning, Steve hurled a knife toward Bucky.

With reflexes honed by years of training, Bucky caught the knife effortlessly, his expression unchanged by the sudden attack.

Steve smirked, a glint of recognition in his eyes. "I knew it. From the moment you said 'No,' I knew you were still the same old Bucky."

"Why do you keep pretending not to remember?" Steve questioned, his tone tinged with frustration.

Bucky remained silent, his fingers tracing the contours of the knife as he pondered his response. "I like it here," he finally replied, his voice devoid of emotion.

Steve's expression softened, a pang of sadness flickering across his features. "Why?" he pressed gently.

"No torture, no one waking me up with waterboarding. Nice place, good food, good friends," Bucky explained, his words belying the memories of the trauma he had endured.

Steve's heart ached at the reminder of Bucky's suffering. "When did your memories start to come back?" he inquired, his concern evident in his voice.

Bucky's gaze turned distant as he recalled the moment. "When the burglar hit my head with a baseball bat," he replied quietly, the memories resurfacing with painful clarity.

Steve looked at Bucky with a mixture of concern and understanding. "I can't believe you went through all of that alone. Do you want to tell me what happened?"

Bucky simply shook his head. "No."

Steve couldn't push it further. He knew Bucky was a quiet person. If he said no, there was nothing that could change his mind.

Steve drew closer, resting a comforting hand on Bucky's shoulder. "I'm going to sound heartless right now, but can you tell me about the situation with the syndicate?" he asked gently, his concern evident in his voice.

Bucky's gaze remained distant as he replied, his tone tinged with resignation. "Everything has turned to dust," he murmured, the weight of his words heavy with the memory of the battles he had fought.

Steve's eyes widened in disbelief. He couldn't fathom that Bucky, alone and unaided, had brought down the nefarious syndicate.

"That's... incredible," he breathed, struggling to find words adequate to express his astonishment.

"You could stay here forever. Your sacrifice will be rewarded," he added solemnly, his respect for his friend evident in his voice.

"But are you going to keep lying to them? Especially to the owner?" Steve questioned, his voice tinged with concern. He noticed how Bucky looked at you, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes.

Bucky's expression remained impassive as he replied, his tone resigned. "It's for the best," he affirmed, knowing that the truth would only bring more pain and complications.

Steve nodded in understanding, his gaze lingering on Bucky for a moment before he turned to walk away. "I'll arrange your reward as soon as possible," he promised, his voice fading into the night as he disappeared from view.

Bucky watched as Steve walked away, feeling a sense of gratitude that his friend had been searching for him. Deep down, he was glad that Steve and the team had never given up on finding him.

Despite this, the pain from the torture he had endured made Bucky prefer to leave it all behind. He was grateful for the amnesia he had, as it gave him the chance to forget the pain he had experienced.

With a sigh, Bucky turned and walked back inside the bakery.

Turns out, you were waiting for him. "It's alright if you still don't remember, Bucky. You can stay here as long as you want."

Bucky felt his heart warm when he heard that. You were the person with the biggest heart.

"Yoo... I'm ordering pizza. What topping do you guys want?" Tammy suddenly appeared.

Bucky chuckled. In this place, the only place he could feel family warmth that he never had.

🌅

The next morning, Steve greeted you and Bucky with a bright smile as you both rubbed the sleep from your eyes.

"Good Morning!"

"What are you doing here so early?" Bucky asked, still trying to wake up fully.

"I wanted to give you back your old bike," Steve replied, his smile widening. "And I have something to show you both."

Confused, you and Bucky followed Steve outside, where the quiet street was suddenly disrupted by the wail of a police siren. A police car screeched to a halt in front of Rick's bakery shop.

"What's going on?" you asked, bewildered.

Steve explained, his expression serious. "It turns out the person who hired the burglar to destroy your shop is him," he said, pointing at Rick, who looked confused as he was dragged away by the police.

"That explains a lot," Bucky muttered, his expression darkening.

"He was jealous of your shop and had debts," Steve continued. "That's why he wanted to ruin your place so all the customers would go to his bakery instead."

Realization dawned on you, and you turned to Steve with gratitude in your eyes. "Did you tip off the police?" you asked.

Steve nodded proudly. "Consider it my way of showing gratitude to you. You helped my friend, and I'm here to help you."

You couldn't help but admire Steve's loyalty and friendship. "You have a great friend," you said, looking at Bucky. "Too bad you still don't remember him."

Bucky tensed at your words, shooting a warning glance at Steve, who simply smiled in response.

Despite Bucky's unease, Steve remained unfazed. "It's okay," Steve reassured, patting Bucky on the back. "You'll remember eventually."

Bucky didn't respond, his gaze distant as he watched Rick being escorted into the police car.

After the commotion had settled, Steve turned to you both. "Now, about that bike..."

As Steve handed Bucky the old bike, you couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude towards him. Despite the challenges and uncertainties, it was comforting to know that you had someone like Steve on your side.

With Rick's scheme exposed and dealt with, you felt a weight lift off your shoulders. Perhaps now you could focus on rebuilding the bakery and moving forward.

As Steve bid farewell and left, you and Bucky exchanged a glance, silently acknowledging the bond that had formed between you.

"Looks like things are finally starting to look up," you said with a smile.

Bucky returned the smile, a hint of warmth in his eyes. "Yeah, they are."

As the sun began to rise, its gentle rays illuminated your face, casting a warm glow that seemed to banish the shadows of his past.

At that moment, gazing upon you, bathed in the light of the sunrise, felt like an answer to the nightmares he had endured.

Being here with you was enough to make him forget the torment of his past.

Together, you headed back inside the bakery, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead, knowing that you had each other for support.

-End-

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Author Note: Hey friends,

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[imamotherfuckingstar-lord]

imagine seeing bucky after six months

"Shit."

"What now."

Taking a last hit, you flicked the cigarette to the ground and crushed it with a heavy black boot. Yelena looked to where you nodded, turning to see Sam Wilson and worse, Bucky Barnes soldiering right towards the two of you. She groaned outward, rolling her eyes.

"Don't they have their own shit to do."

Avoiding Bucky's glaring stare, you nearly pinched the bridge of your nose out of frustration and nerves. It had been about six months since you last seen Bucky, leaving him rolled up in a thin sheet as you escaped the hotel room. See, the thing was, you liked fucking Bucky Barnes - you were human after all, but things were complicated at best. Plus, Sam sorta severely disliked Yelena and your antics; always interrupting their investigations but was it your fault that you were simply better at espionage?

"Of course the two of you would be here." Sam was annoyed and you could only smile at the man, hands on your hips. Yelena examined her nails and shrugged. "Well, the job needs to get done and you two idiots are about three days late..."

Holding back a smile, you finally braved a look at Bucky and nearly flinched at how focused he was on you. Giving him a slight nod, you listened to Sam and Yelena bickered until a peace offering was given by Bucky. Yelena began to protest but you spoke to her in her native tongue and she practically pouted. Bucky inserted himself into the conversation and Sam demanded everyone speak in a language he too could understand.

You smirked. "Fine, we'll play nice...for now but my sister gets the kill."

Sam said no one was getting killed but he was naïve to what was really going on and you gave Bucky a look that questioned if he understand. Without Sam noticing, he gave a slight nod and you knew he got it.

"This is Red Room business, so we'll handle the asshole." Yelena spoke quietly and it sent a shiver down your spine - her tone left no room for objections and Sam dropped it. He mentioned the hotel they were staying at and you agreed to meet them to trade intel.

"We'll be there in two hours, we have some sisterly business to do."

Once everyone was satisfied with the arrangements, Yelena started toward the car but Bucky asked to speak to you...alone. Sam took the hint, drifted away down the street as you turned to your sometimes booty call. He looked good as always and it sent sinking feelings down your stomach. Hands in his pockets, he asked how you were.

"Shit hotels, but I always enjoy spending time with my sister."

He gave a small smile but it quickly faded. "How are you really?"

The interior wall you built fell when he reached down to your hand; his warmth filled all the little corners of coldest in your heart and you felt weak. He made you feel weak all because he made you feel wanted. Bucky was your downfall and that's why you kept him at a distance but he was the king of distance and downfalls. Yet, he stood there with the warmest touch a person had ever placed on you. It made you desperate to give in and even Yelena had pointed out the personal torture you were putting yourself through.

"You two are alive, why not?"

What a poet, your sister.

"I want some alone time with you, later..."

Feigning slickness, you purred at him. "Miss my body that much?"

Bucky didn't take the bait, inside he pulled you roughly against him. His hands held yours down at your side and he looked, no, he stared deep into your eyes. "I don't want you just like that, don't be stupid."

That should have pissed you off but it didn't. Instead you softened under his touch and you whispered okay. That's all you could say and when he released you, he touched the side of your face before kissing you gently on the lips. "Six months is too long..."

"...I know, I'm sorry."

He smiled then and kissed you on the forehead. The lightness reappeared in his eyes and he smirked. "Not so tough for an former assassin, are you?"

"Takes one to know one," you snapped back, smiling as he held your hand. He gave it a squeeze and promised to see you later. "Go spend time with your sister, I'll see you soon."

"Promise?"

The childlike air in your tone would have made you flinch months ago but it felt good to indulge. It felt good to be wanted and to have what you truly want - and that was the man in front of you.

"Promise," he smiled, giving your hand a kiss before departing to where Sam had disappeared. Watching him until he was no longer in sight, you felt an arm move around your shoulder and Yelena whistled.

"Oh you got it bad."

"Oh, fuck off."

[thatsmzbitchtoyou]

Pretty P.A. Chapter 2

Summary: Y/N has been the personal assistant to the most influential and famous fashion modeling agency director in the industry for the past 13 years.  They’ve decided to retire, and are leaving the agency in the hands of their protege and former model, Bucky Barnes.  He seems plenty qualified, and Y/N is excited for a chance to work with him.  Change always takes time,  but the new insanely hot boss is distrustful and hesitant towards her.  **curvy reader** **Y/N/N = Your nickname ** Warnings: mentions of sexual assault (not from Bucky), some violence, blood, smut

Previous chapter Next chapter

The next few weeks were filled with planning, redecorating, traveling and reworking within the agency.  What was now Bucky’s office was going through a major remodel after Tony moved out of it, and Y/N was following him around as he finished his last few modeling assignments and contracts.  She had inserted herself into his life as much as she could, getting to know his routine, his likes and dislikes, his family and their details, and all the things she had done that worked between her and Tony.  It didn’t come without challenges, though.  Bucky was always keeping her an arms length away personally, never fully opening up to her, and he seemed to struggle trusting her.  After another long shoot day, Bucky changed back into his comfortable clothes and headed over to Y/N who was typing furiously on her phone.

“Mr. Barnes,” she greeted him quickly and held out his water bottle to him.  He took it and drank a few big gulps before giving it back to her.  “The publicist said we’re done for the day.  Is there anywhere else you’d like to go before heading home?” she asked as she gathered her things together, slipping his drink into one of her bags.

“I’d like to stop at the office and see where they’re at with the remodel,” he said quickly.

“Of course.  The car is ready,” Y/N said politely.  She was ever the professional with Bucky.  He had made it very clear from the first day they worked together that he was not one for personal conversation.  He called her Miss Y/L/N, so she returned the favor and only called him by his last name.  He had given her an odd look when she did but didn’t press her on it.  She only asked him appropriate-for-work type of questions, and he did the same to her.  To the others in the office she regularly interacted with, she was her usual bright and bubbly self, being able to intersperse the professionalism with her friendships, then the second he walked in she would straighten her back and school her face to a more demure expression.

The car pulled up to the agency and he got out first and held the door for her.  Ever the gentleman, she thought.  She gave him a polite smile and led him into the building.  The elevator ride was silent, as it always was, and when it opened they found the office empty.  The construction workers and interior designers had left for the day.  Y/N led the way to his office and slowly opened the door.  It was nearly done.  The desk and chairs were on the floor in pieces, waiting to be assembled, but the paint, wallpaper, flooring, and basic styling pieces were all in place.

“How do you like it so far, Mr. Barnes?” Y/N asked as she slowly walked around the office, making mental notes about small things that needed cleaning or possible changes.

Bucky was quiet for a moment, so she turned back to him.  He was looking around with a small smile on his face.  “It looks great.  I’m excited for it to be done so we’re not moving around all day.”

Y/N nodded with a side smile.  “Any changes that you’d like to make?”

Bucky looked at her again, the smile slipping off his face.  “Just one.”  He walked closer to her, stopping about a foot away from her.  He met her gaze and his eyes narrowed.  “Why do you call me Mr. Barnes?”

Y/N blinked in surprise.  “I thought that’s what you wanted to be called.”

His head tilted.  “Why would you think that?”

She copied his head tilt.  “You called me Miss Y/L/N on the first day.  I assumed that was the kind of relationship you would like to establish with me.”

Bucky huffed a laugh, his smile lighting up his face again.  “It just feels very strange for you to be so open and friendly with everyone in the office but me.”

Y/N’s eyes widened and her mouth slightly dropped.  “Oh…I’m sorry, I didn’t realize–”

“It’s fine,” Bucky laughed.  “That was my fault.  Can we start again?”

Y/N sighed and smiled wider.  “Yes.”  She held her hand out to him.  “Hi.  My name is Y/N.”

Bucky reached forward and shook her hand.  “Hi Y/N.  My name is Bucky.  And I like to be called Bucky.”

Y/N laughed and he seemed to brighten at that.  “I like to be called Y/N.  Though I’ve also been called “Pretty P.A.,” “Y/N/N,” or “that bitch at Olympus.””

Bucky’s brow furrowed.  “Who called you that last one?”

Y/N cocked an eyebrow at him.  “You’ll find out soon during next week’s meetings.”

Bucky grimaced.  “Am I going to have to be the big bad boss on somebody?”

Y/N shook her head.  “I can handle myself, Bucky.”

He looked unsure but nodded.  “We should probably review those meetings real quick.”

Y/N nodded and led him out of the office to her little desk area right outside.  She sat at her chair and Bucky sat on the reception waiting area couch, plopping his long legs up onto the cushion.  She opened her books and had her phone calendar open as she started reading off the meetings planned for the next week.

“Then Thursday there’s a two hour lunch blocked out for Hydra–”

“No,” Bucky’s voice scared her.  She looked up at him in alarm.  His eyes were piercing as he looked over at her, his lips set in a fine line and his nose flaring in anger.  “We will never do business with them again.”

Y/N was shocked but quickly recovered herself.  She looked back down at her book and made a note.  “I will cancel.”  

Bucky was stiff as he sat up straight on the couch.  He glared at the floor as he swallowed harshly.  “I’m guessing that’s who called you the bitch at Olympus?”

Y/N scoffed as she set down her pen and leaned back in her chair.  “How did you know?”

Bucky shook his head.  The anger on his face quickly turned to despair and he closed his eyes.  “Just had a feeling,” he whispered.

Y/N felt the shift in the energy of the room.  She slowly stood and walked over to the couch and sat next to him, but kept her distance.  She angled her body to face him.  “May I ask why you don’t want to work with them?”

Bucky was wringing his hands in front of him as the emotions on his face kept changing.  He kept his eyes closed.  “I’ve kept my distance with you, as I’m sure you’ve noticed.”  Y/N didn’t answer.  “It hasn’t been because I don’t like you.  It’s because…do you remember booking me on a photoshoot eight years ago with Hydra?”

Y/N thought back.  “Vaguely, yes.  You were a few years in with us at that point.”

Bucky nodded and his jaw clenched.  “And do you remember how I suddenly quit after that?”  She nodded again.  “Alexander Pierce is…a piece of work,” he continued, breathing heavily in through his nose and out through his mouth, like he was fighting off a panic attack.  “His long-time photographer, Brock Rumlow, was having me do some strange poses.”  Y/N suddenly knew where this conversation was going and her hands tightened into fists, her own jaw clenching.  “I didn’t think much of it at first.  Some photographers have weird creative processes.  But then he made everyone leave so it was just me and him.  He started physically posing me, and next thing I knew his hand was down my pants.”  

Y/N inhaled deeply, her brow furrowing as her hands shook.  Bucky opened his eyes slowly and then looked at her.  “He touched me.  And I freaked.  Smashed his camera, screamed the whole way out.  By the time I made it back to Olympus I just couldn’t face what had happened.  I didn’t know how to tell Tony, who to talk to, what to do.  So I just quit and started being a free agent.”

Y/N’s eyes started to brim with tears out of frustration and sadness.  “I’m so sorry, Bucky.  Hydra has a reputation but if I had known I would have never sent you there.”

Bucky shook his head and turned toward her.  “It’s not your fault,” Bucky said and reached for her hands, helping smooth out her fists.  “It’s not anyone’s fault.  But you deserve to know, seeing as how you’ll have to communicate with them.  Olympus has always had contracts with Hydra, so I’m sure they won’t take the rejection well, losing a long term connection.  But I will not associate with them, or put any of our models in harm’s way.”

Y/N kept her gaze on his hands as they held hers, nodding as she tried to keep her emotions at bay.  “I was standoffish with you at the start,” Bucky conceded.  “I’m harboring some anger still.  But I know it’s not your fault.  Your work and networking connections speak for themselves, and I’m glad you’re my P.A.  You care about everyone here and the work we do.”

Y/N looked up at him finally, her eyes still sad but a small smile on her face.  “Thank you.”  She gripped his fingers a little tighter.  “I’m so sorry you went through that.  It’s one of my biggest fears for our models, and I just…I didn’t know.”

Bucky nodded, giving her a reassuring smile.  “Well now you do, and we can keep everyone else safe.”

Y/N nodded and slipped a hand away from him to dab at her eyes.  “God, I’m sorry,” she laughed.

“Don’t be,” Bucky laughed.  “I appreciate your concern.”

Y/N quickly sniffed then stood.  “Well,” she cleared her throat and walked back to the desk.  “Canceling that meeting will free up your Thursday lunch, so if there was a specific agency you were interested in we could reach out to them.  Tony always liked having open Fridays, so I haven’t scheduled anything for that day, but if you’d rather I can move some of the next Monday’s meetings over.  Also your mother’s birthday is in two weeks, and since she’s been traveling I got her itinerary and ordered her gift to be delivered in Romania when she gets there, though you’ll need to let me know whether she likes peach or pink roses.  Peach means gratitude, while pink means more along the lines of sweetness and refinement, and since it’s her 65th birthday it would be nice to do something representing that.  The thank you cards are ready for you to sign for all the gifts for your directorship here–”

“Free Fridays sounds great,” Bucky snickered.  “She loves pink.  I’ll sign those tomorrow.  Man, when you get going you just keep going, don’t you?”

Y/N snorted.  “You didn’t let me finish, but yes, I do.”

Bucky watched amusedly as she continued to rattle off everything for the foreseeable future.

***

“Hydra Modeling Agency, how can I help you?”

“Hi Elsie,” Y/N drawled in a sickly sweet voice over the phone.

“Ugh, what do you want?” Elsie scoffed.

“Just calling to tell you the meeting for Thursday is canceled,” Y/N sing-songed.

“Excuse me?” Elsie snorted.  “You can’t just cancel with Alexander Pierce.”

“Watch me,” Y/N said, her voice dropping low.  “And you can let him know that we will never be doing business with him or Hydra again.”

Elsie stuttered and she lowered her voice.  “You can’t just cancel contracts like that.  He owns half of the modeling world.  Do you seriously want to start this war?”

“Oh I think he’s got much bigger fish to fry than worrying about losing a measly little contract with us,” Y/N laughed, then hit send on her email.  She could hear the ping from Elsie’s computer on the other end of the line.  She waited until she heard a gagging sound.  “Do tell Alex the bitch from Olympus says hi, and if you could pass along a message to Brock…tell him to rot in hell,” she said, then hung up.

An hour later Bucky came out of his office with a look of shock on his face.  “Y/N, could I see you in my office?”

“Yes,” she smiled and grabbed her notebook.  She followed him into the office and he closed the door behind her.  She turned to him after she set the book down on his desk.  “So what did you—oof!”

Bucky hugged her, squeezing her tight as he tucked his face into the crook of her neck.  Y/N froze for a moment before she felt his body shaking with quiet sobs.  She quickly melted into his embrace, her hands looping behind him and caressing his back as she felt his tears start wetting her shoulder.  “What’s wrong?” she whispered.

“Nothing…nothing’s wrong,” Bucky muttered against her.  His fingers gripped the back of her shirt as he squeezed her again.  He pulled away after a moment and looked down at her.

Y/N’s heart ached to see him cry but he was smiling.  “Then why are you crying?” she huffed a laugh as her hands moved from his back to his face, wiping away the tears.

“I don’t know how you did it, but thank you,” Bucky smiled, sniffing quickly.  “I’ve been getting calls from multiple people for the past hour about that email you sent out.”  Y/N fought the smile on her face and looked away.  “I didn’t know that Rumlow assaulted so many other models.  You’ve done more to stop him in just minutes than I ever had the courage to in years,” he said quietly, biting his lip to stop it from trembling.  

Y/N pulled his hands from behind her and held them in front of her, her thumbs softly running across his knuckles.  “Like you said, I care about the people I work with.  Both in our agency and outside of it.  And I couldn’t stand the thought of him just out there, walking free and hurting other people.  So I made a few calls and sent a few emails,” she reached up and wiped a few more fallen tears, “talked to HR and our legal team, and a bunch of news outlets.  Nobody hurts my family and gets away with it.”

Bucky stared at her in admiration for a minute before looking at their entwined hands.  He moved his hands so he was holding hers instead and brought them up to his lips, kissing each hand before setting them back down.  “Thank you.”

Y/N was surprised by the affection but welcomed it.

[cinnabunwanda]

Invitation only ✰ Bucky Barnes⌇DRABBLES

content warning — smut, mention of alcohol,

pairing — fem reader x Bucky Barnes

summary — At Tony Stark's party, Natasha insists you attend, despite feeling out of place. Bucky tries to reorganize you, but you admit it's unlike anything you've experienced before.

word count — 696

Standing at the front gates of your father's magnificent mansion with Natasha, you couldn't help but feel out of place. Parties were not your scene, but Natasha had insisted that you come to this one - after all, it was hosted by your own father, Tony Stark. You take a deep breath and follow Natasha inside.

The opulent interior of the mansion dazzles your eyes. People in elegant attire fill the room, dancing and laughing while waiters glide through the crowd with trays of champagne. Natasha leads you to the bar where you both take a seat. The bartender approaches, eyeing you with obvious interest. You order your usual vodka martini and Natasha does the same.

As you take a sip of your drink, you can't help but notice a man on the other side of the room, his piercing gaze locked on you. "Who's that?" You ask Natasha, gesturing towards him. She turns to look and a smirk forms on her lips.

"Oh, him? That's Bucky," she says, pointing at the ruggedly handsome man. You nod in acknowledgment.

Bucky finishes his drink and makes his way over to you, taking a seat next to you at the bar. "Hey baby," you greet him, placing a hand on his thigh. He orders a whisky and turns to face you, placing a kiss on your forehead. Natasha excuses herself and leaves the two of you alone.

As the night goes on, the chemistry between you and Bucky becomes undeniable. His hand moves from your thigh to your ass as he leans in closer to whisper in your ear. "I'm going to rearrange your insides," he growls before pulling back with a wicked grin.

Just when things are getting heated, Steve interrupts and takes Bucky away for a conversation. Frustrated yet still feeling the effects of Bucky's words, you decide to follow them upstairs to a bedroom.

Locking the door with your powers, you allow Bucky to push you onto the bed. He quickly unbuckles his pants and pulls out his impressive shaft. You take it eagerly into your hands and start to pump, eliciting a deep moan from Bucky.

He takes control, pushing his shaft deeper into your mouth while gripping your hair tightly. After a few moments, he pulls back and picks you up, placing you on all fours on the bed. With one hand on your waist, he slowly enters you, causing a pleasurable moan to escape your lips.

With each thrust, you feel yourself getting closer to the edge until finally, with a loud moan, you both reach climax. As you both catch your breath, you get up and fix your disheveled appearance while Bucky does the same.

Unlocking the door, you open it to find Natasha standing in the doorway. She gives you a knowing smirk before walking away, leaving you to contemplate just how enjoyable this party has turned out to be.

As you make your way back to the party, you feel a sudden tug on your hand. You turn to see Natasha with a mischievous grin on her face.

"I was looking for you!" you say with a smile.

"Sorry, Bucky wanted to talk to me," she replies as she grabs your hand and lets out a little giggle.

You glance back at Bucky, who is smirking at you and signing for round two. You nod and smile in response.

"So how was it, y/n?" Natasha asks, pulling your attention away from Bucky.

You spin around to face her, feeling your cheeks flush red. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Nat."

She raises an eyebrow and gives you a knowing look. "Come on, y/n. I know you guys did it. So how was it?"

Feeling embarrassed but unable to resist Natasha's curiosity, you let her lead you back downstairs.

"It was...it was like nothing I've experienced before," you admit with a shy smile.

Natasha laughs and gives you a playful nudge. "Well, at least you had fun," she teases as the both of you erupt into giggles. The night air feels alive with excitement and possibility as you join the rest of the partygoers in celebration.

[x-just-another-fanfic-writer-x]

The Neighbour Down The Hall

Chapter 8

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Summary: Waking up in your neighbour's flat led to some mildly awkward conversations

Word count: 1.7k

AO3

You winced when you opened your bleary eyes, looking around the interior of Bucky’s flat in confusion. Until last night came screaming back to you.

“Oh god…” you muttered. You spotted a glass of water on the table and two painkillers, a present from Bucky you presumed. Your hand flew out to take them both before anything else. Then you fumbled for your phone and checked the time; already 11 in the morning. Why hadn’t Justin even bothered to message you?

You wiped your eyes without considering how it would smudge your make up, and made your way to Bucky’s bathroom. His bedroom door was shut, but subtle whiffs of shower gel wafted into your nostrils. Droplets of water on the side of the bathtub confirmed he must be up, somewhere…

Once you had finished in there and cleaned up the residue make up on your face, you tip toed back into the-

“You’re awake,” Bucky commented, startling you. 

“Jesus,” you breathed out, then winced as your head throbbed. He stood in the doorway to his kitchen, a cup of coffee in his still gloved hand.

“You sleep okay?” he asked, leaning against the doorframe a little. His hair was still damp, and he smelt good.

“Yeah thanks for letting me crash, again,” you replied awkwardly. He simply nodded in response. “I hope I wasn’t too much of a pain to deal with?” 

“You gonna be okay getting your keys for your flat?” he asked, dodging your question.

You nodded. “Yeah I can head into the uh- the office, go get my stuff…”

Bucky’s eyes gave you a quick once over. “You want any coffee before you go?”

“Yeah, if you don’t mind,” you smiled timidly. You tentatively followed him into his kitchen, watching him as he made the drink. The flat felt warm, surely he didn’t need gloves? Wordlessly, he handed you the hot beverage, your fingertips longing to have touched his through the black material.

“I’ve got things to do today. Need to head out soon,” he said. It took you a moment to realise he was basically indicating you need to leave.

“What sort of things?” you nevertheless asked. When you took a sip of your coffee and he still didn’t answer, you continued. “Sometimes it’s like pulling teeth trying to get a straight answer from you,” you joked.

“Some things are better left unsaid.”

“Is paying your bills that top secret?” you continued to tease.

“They’re already paid for,” he replied stoically. You continued to look at him, equally confused as you were intrigued. You took another few sips of your coffee as the silence stretched on. Eventually, you couldn’t take it anymore.

“What do you do for work?” 

He scoffed, then finished off his cup of coffee as you watched him, frowning.

“That’s not a weird question,” you said defensively. He said nothing as he rinsed his mug out. “What, you an American spy something?” you chuckled. His shoulders immediately stiffened and he let out a small sigh before turning to face you.

“My job is not your concern.”

“Alright… keep your secrets,” you replied, wondering if he’d get the reference as you tried your hardest not to look as unsettled as you felt. His expression didn’t look like he did. You sighed, and put the mug down on the counter. “Thanks for the coffee, and letting me stay again.”

“No problem,” he muttered. 

You bit your lip, hovering in the kitchen, before walking back to the living room to grab your phone. You barely heard Bucky on your heels, only clocking his presence once you heard his front door unlock. 

“Alright well, see you around,” you said with a smile as you left his flat once more. He shut the door behind you without so much as a wave goodbye. You pursed your lips as you made your way down the stairwell, wondering if you’d said something wrong. Was it asking about his job? Or what he’d got planned for the day?

You ruminated on it the whole journey back to your office building, trying to straighten out yesterday’s clothes so you didn’t look like you were doing some sort of walk of shame. You were lucky your phone still had enough battery to pay for your transport, or you’d be screwed. 

Was Bucky offended you jokingly asked if he was a spy? 

What if he was a spy? You don’t even know the man’s full name…

Christ you wished your phone had more battery so you could spend time Googling him.

You avoided eye contact with the weekend security guard at your office, trying to look as professional and not hungover as possible. You held your head high as you confidently made your way to your floor to grab your belongings.

No, Bucky was just a normal guy. It was just your overactive mind again making you paranoid. Just like his weirdly healed black eye. Just like worrying about Justin. It’s all in your head.

By the time you got back to your flat, it was mid afternoon, and you were too drained to do anything else. You finally showered and changed whilst your completely dead phone charged up. Once you were all cozy in some comfortable pj’s, you turned your phone on.

Still nothing from Justin.

You typed out a message, and annoyingly he read it within seconds. Which then became an entire evening of back and forth passive aggressive then actually aggressive text messages with the man. Your dinner half uneaten. Your glass of wine, practically untouched. 

You cried yourself to sleep.

You woke up Sunday morning, the empty bed sending a jolt of sadness through you, only to be dulled as the argument came flooding into your mind. You scrolled through the messages, how he spoke to you was… toxic. But you asked for it. You kept pushing. You brought up the weird soil you found on the floor. You made him mad for being suspicious.

You dropped your phone onto the bed, you didn’t want to ruminate any longer. You forced yourself to leave the warmth, pushed yourself to go to the gym to prevent yourself from falling into a self pitying funk. Your legs and arms both burned by the time you were done, having spent two hours in the small basement facility. 

Once you were showered and changed, it wasn’t even midday. You hadn’t heard from Justin since the night before, but you still had a few hours to kill before he was due home. It was frustrating that on one of your rare free weekends, he decided to visit his mates. More frustrating still that the weekend felt wasted as your mood was so dampened by the awful argument the night before. Insults were hurled left right and centre, snide comments, Justin even dragged Bucky into your argument. So you brought up the soil and his dirty fingernails.

Then, inspiration struck you.  

You grabbed your purse and headed to your nearest Timpson’s. The landlord wouldn’t mind you creating a new key, right? You weren’t sure. Justin was the one to deal with the letting agency and pay rent, whilst you paid for all the other bills. It equaled out eventually.

A third key would prevent you getting stuck outside your flat ever again. Not that you planned on doing it a third time, but it couldn’t hurt to have it in case of emergencies.

A couple of hours later, a box of Selfridges doughnuts in one hand and the freshly cut key in the other, you knocked on Bucky’s door.

“Hi, again,” you smiled, “I brought these for you,” you said as you held both items out slightly awkwardly. 

Bucky frowned as he looked down at them, taking the doughnuts first. “What’s this?”

“A key,” you replied brightly, beginning to regret the impulsive decision.

“To… your apartment?” he asked skeptically.

You nodded. “In case of e-emergencies.”

“You’re trusting me with a key to your apartment?” he asked even more skeptically. His tone made you question the decision, but you nodded anyway. “Why?”

“In case of- well in case anything like Friday night happened again…” you replied, still holding the key out in front of you. He still didn’t take it, so you began to put it away.

“It was a dumb-”

“No I’ll take-”

You both said at the same time. “I can keep it safe for you,” Bucky reiterated, holding his hand out for it. You relaxed somewhat, then dropped the item in his outstretched palm. 

“Thanks,” you smiled, then awkwardly hovered again as Bucky pocketed the key. “I just figured you know, it would make sense for someone close by to have a key. I can’t really leave it in a ‘safe place’ in the complex. Not that I plan on misplacing mine again.”

Bucky just nodded. 

“But umm… thanks. The doughnuts were payment for- jeez no payment is the wrong word. A token of goodwill.”

Bucky stifled a snort and you felt your cheeks flush.

“Well, thank you for the doughnuts. You should get some rest,” he said quietly, then slowly began to shut the door.

“You too!” you automatically replied before you could stop yourself. You sighed gently as you walked back into your flat. “‘You too’,” you muttered to yourself, feeling like an idiot.

You tried to distract yourself from the mild embarrassment and Justin’s radio silence by watching some TV. You'd been sitting on your sofa for a couple of hours when the worry truly creeped in. It wasn’t like Justin to ignore you for this long, not when he was conscious anyway. You stress cleaned the flat, but that didn't take long. Then you stress ate a massive portion of the dinner you’d cooked for the two of you. He was supposed to be home by now… Another long hour pacing back and forth in your apartment later, a private number rang your mobile.

"Hello?" you said apprehensively. 

"Hi, is that Jess speaking?" a bright female voice said.

“Yeah, who's this?”

“I’m PC Davies, I'm calling to let you know that Justin Bates has been arrested.” 

Your stomach dropped. “What?!”

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