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magicmanias · 4 years ago

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Greyhound Station [Prologue]

Chapter: Prologue

Pairing: Firefighter!Bucky Barnes x Ballerina!Reader

Summary: Since she was eight years old, Y/N Parker knew only one thing for certain: that she would always love James Buchanan Barnes. By fourteen, she was positive she knew everything—including that Bucky would be hers forever. When she was eighteen, she realized she really only knew three things: one, that New York was rotten, two, that she would be a dancer no matter what her parents said, and three, that she would do everything in her power to never see James Buchanan Barnes again. But now, Y/N is twenty-four and somehow, she’s back at where she started all those years ago, at a Greyhound station on 206 Livingston Street.

Warnings: Fluff, (Loveable) Asshole Clint Barton, Swearing

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: I’m rewriting this series with my good friend, Angelina! Please go check out her account and follow her. She’s an amazing human being and she’s so amazing for helping me write this god forsaken story. I hope you all enjoy what’s coming soon!

Co-written by @dearspacepirates and @angelinathebook.

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[Summer of 2011, Freshman Year, 15 y/o.]

July 12 was going to go down in history as the day that Y/N Julianne Parker conquered her fear of heights.

For the past seven years you've lived in Brooklyn, you and the gang went to Coney Island every day that you possibly could in the seventy-seven days of summer that school offered you. And every year, everyone would buy a ticket for the Wonder Wheel… except you. So for an hour of waiting time and ten minutes while your friends could be heard from the top screaming and laughing, you sat at the bottom waiting. But it wasn’t so bad. Someone always sat out with you to keep you company while the rest rode the wheel. Of course, you always felt a little guilty about it; like the little sister that no one wanted to deal with. They drew straws and the unlucky member that was picked didn't get to partake in, apparently, the “best ride ever” that year.

[Summer of 2004, Third Grade, 8 y/o.]

The first time the gang went to Coney Island, well, the gang was much smaller. Just you, Steve, and Bucky. Sarah was the one to suggest that the boys draw straws.

“We don't leave each other behind,” she'd said, taking out the straw of her coke and cutting it into different sized pieces with the pocket knife from her ex-husband. “Now, that also applies to me. Three straws. Steve, Bucky, and me. Whoever picks the shortest straw stays with Y/N.”

You stared at your feet and shuffled your feet. “I-I don't want to keep you guys from—”

A comforting hand landed on your shoulder and Sarah gave you a warm smile. “Hey, we're not abandoning you.” She ruffled Steve and Bucky’s hair with her spare hand. “These two little buggers and I? We're with you until the end of the line, baby.”

Steve had drawn the short straw that particular time, but he didn't really mind. He said heights triggered his allergies anyway.

[Summer of 2011, Freshman Year, 15 y/o.]

“You can do this. You can do this. Just brea—”

“Hey, relax, will you? You've been shaking since we picked you up. It's a ferris wheel.” Tony slung his arm around your shoulders, chewing on the stick of the lollipop he started on the walk there. He peaked at you imphisly from under his sunglasses.

“Lay off, Stark. Just be nice about it, ok? She's nervous,” Steve butted in. Always the hero, you thought.

“Thanks, Stevie. But really, I am… ok. I can do this,” you insisted. You looked up at the giant wheel and your stomach floored. The line shifted forward and Bruce bumped into you.

Bruce adjusted his tilted glasses. “Oh sorry—”

“I can't do this!”

Half of the crew sighed and started digging through their pockets. Tony, Thor, and Natasha muttered small curses before handing fives to Clint, Loki, and Bucky.

“I really thought you were going to this time around,” Natasha groaned, but she still smiled at you before glaring at a very satisfied Clint.

You huffed in annoyance. “Even you, Bucky?”

“Don't hate the player. Hate the game, killer,” he smirked, shoving Thor's five into his pocket. You continued to frown.

“Aw, come on, doll. Don't be that way.” Bucky came over to you, placed his hands in his jacket, and shot an innocent pout at you. “You know I love you. You're my dream girl.”

You punched him in the arm. “Fuck off, James.”

He backed up like a wounded dog, holding his arm. “Hey, I'm just trying to make us some money. So we can start a life together, baby. You and me.”

Flirt. You rolled your eyes.

“Whatever,” Tony muttered, putting his wallet back in his pocket. “Who's got the straws?”

Steve bashfully pulled out multiple straws of different lengths and began to shuffle them in his palms. The routine started again. Everyone pulled a straw: Tony, Clint, Bruce, Thor, Nat, then Bucky.

Bucky drew the short stick.

The gang patted his shoulder—their clandestine form of sympathy, just as the routine went. The gang entered the line and you and your unlucky companion for the next hour and ten minutes sat on the bench near the vintage ice cream parlor that sold flavors all the way back to the 1930s. And then, you'd thank whoever sat with you. Sometimes, they bought you a cone or if they had historically Irish luck, then you'd buy them a sundae because it was the second time they had to sit with you. (A rightfully bitter Clint once asked for the most expensive item on the menu and Coney Island prices weren't cheap.)

Something about this time was different though. It was funny. In all the seven years you'd known Bucky, he never once drew the short straw. Never. Long had he been accused of cheating, but your peers could never prove it. Until now.

Apparently, he wasn't cheating.

You decided to stick to the routine anyway, despite the sour frown on Bucky's face.

“Thanks,” you mumbled. You tried to shoot him a small smile, but his pout persisted and he shoved his hands in his jacket pockets.

You sat there for a good ten minutes until you started to get sick of Bucky’s frown. Bucky was always difficult when he was in a bad mood, but after years of trial and error, you knew how to deal with his moodiness. “I’ll be right back,” you said.

You got up and waded into the crowd of people before disappearing altogether from Bucky’s view. He slumped further into the bench. “Why am I even here if you're just gonna split?” he muttered.

After several minutes, Bucky’s cheeks began to hurt and he sat up. Where were you? He stood and scanned the surrounding area for his annoyingly evasive friend.

“Hey!” A finger poked him in the shoulder and when he turned, he was met with a large ice cream cone shoved in front of him. Behind it, stood Y/N with an innocent grin lining her face.

Bucky took the cone and smirked, “You remembered.”

“Burgundy cherry on a sugar cone. Two scoops,” you recited, rocking back and forth on your heels.

He chuckled. She always knew how to cheer him up. He stared at the scoop of pink ice cream. “I’m sorry for being… dumb about the ferris wheel. I know you don't like it,” he mumbled.

“It’s okay.” You blushed behind your cone, hoping Bucky wouldn't see. “You’re lucky you've got those baby blues, Barnes. It's what's kept me around all these years,” you joked, shoving him playfully in the arm.

Bucky pulled away in pretend pain. “Careful killer, you just might make me fall in love with you.”

“Save it, Barnes.”

Bucky watched you while you returned to licking your ice cream. As much as he loved you, Bucky was going on that ride.

He stood up and reached out for your hand, smiling warmly. “Come on, Killer. I've got a surprise for you.”

You looked up with excitement. “Really?”

“Yeah, but you gotta close your eyes.” Bucky walked behind you and covered your eyes with his free hand. “Trust me. You'll like this.”

“Holy fuck, Bucky!” you screeched, pushing into Bucky’s side, trying to get away from the edge of the seat. Your heart pounded out of your chest as you rose higher and higher. You screwed your eyes shut, but it only accelerated the tears that poked at the corners and threatened to spill down your cheeks.

“Bucky, I want off…” you whimpered. “I want to get off.”

“Hey, just don’t look down. You’re safe with me,” he assured you, taking your hand in his. You squeezed it, hard. He pulled his other arm away from where you pressed against it and wrapped it around your shoulders, beckoning you into his embrace.

“Please Bucky, I want to get down,” you whispered, one single tear rolling down your cheek as you spoke. You knew what you were asking wasn’t rational, but logic and reason were left on the ground below, along with your confidence.

“Just focus on your breathing and focus on me,” He coached, making stupid deep-breathing gestures with his arms.

“What about you? Focus on how much I hate you or the strong urge I have to punch you?” You fire back, not feeling at all comforted. If anything, that made it worse. You were slowly rising higher and higher and the pit in your stomach grew deeper and deeper.

“Well I… was thinking more like something along the lines of this,” he murmured, taking your hands. He started to rub small circles into the skin of your hand with his thumb, “And this,” he said with the same soft intensity, the arm that was wrapped tightly around your shoulders, snaking itself around your waist, pulling you in closer to him. You could feel the heat radiating from his body, warming you from the breeze of being so high. And then Bucky made that stupid face that made you feel all warm and fluttery inside. So stupid…

Bucky watched as you calmed your breathing. He knew you’d probably uphold your promise to punch him when you got off, but it was worth it. You shivered at the cool temperature from being at the top of the ferris wheel. Bucky’s instincts pulled your closer to him; he was always warm, so you would always cuddle up to him. It was then that Bucky realized that he was still holding your hand and you were still staring at him with your stupid, doe eyes.

And that’s when Bucky couldn’t take it anymore.

All of freshman year, you and he had been dancing around each other, daring the other to just say something, but the two of you were probably the most stubborn people on the planet. He wasted all of freshman year flirting with other girls because he had too much pride to just admit that you were the only one for him. Fuck friendship, Bucky Barnes fell hard for you and he didn’t want to come up for air any time soon.

“What’re you starin’ at, pretty boy?” you mumbled.

“Killer, you’re gonna be the death of me.”

“Oh, just wait until we get off this damn—mphf!”

Lips connected to yours. The butterflies in your stomach that started flapping because of your sheer terror, began to fly for entirely different reasons. His lips were soft and gentle. You gripped his hand a little tighter and lifted your free one to drag it through his hair.

“Oh shit! Are you guys fucking making out!?” You could hear Clint’s voice two cars down.

“Holy shit!” Tony. “Someone get a picture! Also, Thor owes me 20 bucks!”

“What!? You couldn’t have waited like another week, Barnes!?” Thor’s voice boomed.

Bucky placed his hand on the side of his mouth and yelled down, “Stop betting on everything!” He sucked in his lip in annoyance and huffed at his friends’ commentary and his ruined moment with you. But you just chuckled.

“I think this is my new favorite ride,” you said and Bucky’s face lit up like a kid on Christmas morning. He placed his hands on the sides of your head and kissed your forehead.

“So does this mean you’re my girl, killer?” he mumbled against your head.

“I don’t know, James. I’m still pretty mad that you tricked me.”

“Didn’t you say you liked this ride now. I remember you calling it ‘your favorite ride,’” he said, bending his fingers in air quotes.

“I’m punching you when we get off this stupid machine, jerk.”

“If it means I get to kiss those pretty lips again, then hit me with your best shot.”

[Summer of 2020, 24 y/o.]

“We are now in New York City. This is 206 Livingston Street. Thank you for riding with Greyhound and we hope you have a good day.”

The double-doors of the bus opened with a hiss and you gathered your bags after saying goodbye to the nice father who was taking his boys on a trip to the Big Apple for their summer vacation.

Your phone buzzed.

Today | 10:00 am

Wanda: Hey, just wanted to make sure you got here ok :) Y/N: I just got off. I’m headed to your apartment right now. Wanda: Are you sure you don’t want me to help you with your bags? Y/N: I’m ok. Just waiting for a cab. Wanda: Ok, stay safe <3. Wanda: And remember! Drinks at the Odinsons’ at 8, ok? Y/N: Ok, I'll think about it… Are you sure he won't be there? Wanda: No, drama queen. He took an extra shift at the station anyway. Wanda: Be there! x

You stared at the apartment in front of you and thought about Wanda's last text. You were hesitant to go anyway. Seeing everyone again… It'd bring back too many memories that all involved him. Maybe Wanda was right. You were a drama queen. You couldn't even think his name without being upset. And even though you were in the largest city in America, you had a feeling it would be hard to avoid him.

God, you couldn't believe you were back here. Six years ago, you swore you'd never come back to New York and here you were in the same place you started.

Hopefully, Thor still made good drinks.

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