#even if i didn't even answer a bunch n the rest were real vague like usual | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

reidgraygubler · 3 years

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take care (lesley smith-juniment/gender-neutral!reader)

Title: take care Requested: no Couple: lesley smith-juniment/gender-neutral!reader Category: fluff Content Warning: drinking, drunken shenanigans, there was only one bed trope, reader throws up, talks about sex (but it doesn’t happen, just talked about) Word Count: 2641 Summary: Lesley takes care of reader after they had too much to drink A/N: this was written for @imagining-in-the-margins only one bed challenge! This is the first time i’ve written lesley, so bear with me! I appreciate you <3 i really hope you guys enjoy this :D check out my masterlist!

{***}{***}{***}

I should have realized how much I had to drink the night before. My head was absolutely pounding and my whole body was killing me. I hardly remember what I did last night. It was just one shot of tequila too many, and then everything was gone.

Damn tequila… And damn my friends for buying shots. At least I wasn’t too much of an embarrassment. Or at least I thought. Drunk me is very, very different than sober me. Drunk me was the life of the party, sober me was not.

I wish I could remember what I did the night before. Lesley was there, and Summer was there. And… Summer’s finance joined, too... I do, however, remember Lesy trying to stop me from drinking but… He’s not my babysitter.

Or… Was he?

My body instantly popped up as I realized I wasn’t in my own room. It was a hotel room, but it wasn’t mine. It was… It was Lesley’s. His boots and clothing neatly set to the side easily told me it was his room.

But it was also him asleep beside me that told me it was his room. Lesley was on the total edge of the bed, on top of the sheets, and his back facing me. I knew he’s never slept in the same bed as another person before, but the least he could have done was act like it was fine.

I tumbled out of the bed, nearly falling to the floor. It was quite the surprise when I realized I was wearing just a shirt (which belonged to Lesley) and underwear. No wonder he was on top of the sheets, and on the extreme edge of the bed.

“Fuck,” I whispered as I searched the room for my clothes. My shirt and pants were thrown around, and my shoes were hiding under the bed. I hope nothing bad happened last night. And by bad I mean I didn’t actually say or do anything… inappropriate.

“Are you okay?” Lesley asked after a moment of silence. I looked over at him with a raised eyebrow. “I just… I heard you fall off the bed, and I’m sure you have a killer hangover. You had like… A whole bottle of tequila with Summer,” he nervously chuckled as he looked at me. I looked back at him with wide eyes.

“Yeah, yeah I’m okay. Headache would be correct,” I nervously laughed as I lifted a hand to hold my head. “I was just about to go find… Bacon! Bacon and grease and water and… Yeah, it helps hangovers.” I looked down at the ground.

“It’s probably too late for shitty continental breakfast, right?” Lesley asked as he slipped out of the bed. I stared at him for a moment.

“Probably… I was just going to go to the Denny’s down the street,” I muttered as I gestured in the vague direction of the breakfast restaurant.

“Can I… go with?”

“Yeah, of course you can, Les,” I answered with a smile. Although my smile felt disingenuous. Maybe that’s what I meant. I still don’t know who I was last night, I could have done anything…

Our journey to the Denny’s was pretty silent. I must have been real bad last night if Lesley didn't say anything. It wasn’t till I had my coffee and breakfast sitting in front of me that I said anything.

“Can… Can you tell me what exactly happened last night?” I asked, as I dumped the two sugar packets into my coffee. Lesley looked at me with a raised brow. “Like you said… Whole bottle of tequila,” I chuckled.

And then he told me… {***}{***}{***}

Drinks… That was exactly what I needed. Work sucked, home sucked, life sucked, everything sucked. So I needed drinks, because drinking fixes everything. I shouldn’t say that. That’s not true, but drinking can fix a lot.

Summer and her fiance had invited Lesley out for drinks. Which in turn, Lesley asked me to join them. I couldn’t say no to Lesley. To be honest, I wouldn’t have gone had Lesley not invited me. Sure, Summer is one of my greatest friends. But I hated her fiance, Bradley… I wasn’t the only one who hated him though. Lesley hated him just as much, if not more. We had our different reasonings though. I hated him simply because he was a dick, and Summer was amazing.

It was hard to say just how many actual drinks I had, and I lost count of how many shots were consumed. But the majority were done between me and Summer. We were both so far gone, but we were having fun. So who cares?

To answer my own question, Lesley. Lesley cared because he’s my best friend. Of course he’d care. He cared about our safety more than Bradley did. Bradley was too busy drinking himself to notice Summer or me.

I think I was just drinking so excessively to get his attention, too. He was so busy pining over Summer that he didn’t realize I was right in front of him. My plan did work, though. I had most certainly gotten his attention as I stumbled up to the bar and ordered another round of shots for Summer and I. Summer was somewhere, dancing with a bunch of strangers while I did this. She was the one who said get more shots.

“Hey Pal… Are-Are you okay?” Lesley asked as he appeared by my side. I lowered my margarita glass to the counter as I looked at him. I hated the way that he looked motion blurred as I stared at him. The world around him was moving a touch too fast for me to pay attention to him.

“I-I’m fucking great, Les! Fucking awesome!” My words came out like a slurred mess. There was no apparent lie in my words. I felt awesome. It was the tequila talking. “I think… I think it’s time for another shot! You want one?!” I shouted as I turned back to face the bar.

“No, no! I don’t want one. I think we should go. Get you back to the hotel so you can-”

“You want to leave!? Lesley! Tonight’s the night, Dude! We can’t leave! What if we died tomorrow?!” I shouted as I turned back to him. My hands found their way to his shoulders and I looked at him. “We can’t leave now!”

“I think we should,” Lesley retorted as he grabbed my arms. I stared at him before looking over at my drink. I grabbed it and drank the rest of it in one go.

“Okay now we can go.” I looked back at him. Lesley stared at me with a worried crease between his brows, causing me to smirk. I was too far gone, and he knew that. I was about to make his life a hell, and I couldn’t help it. That’s how it was when I was drunk, though. He played the concerned friend (but he’s always concerned), and I was the drunken toddler.

“Alright, c’mon,” he mumbled as he wrapped his arm around my waist. I stumbled away from the bar counter. I was thankful that Lesley kept his arm around me because I was sure to fall without him. He was always there to pick me up whenever I fell.

Maybe that’s why I liked Lesley so much. And not just as a friend. He cared about me in ways other people haven’t ever cared for me. Sure, Summer cared about me… But she’s not the one making sure I get back to the hotel safely.

“We’re not gonna say bye to Summer and Bradley?” I asked as Lesley brought us towards the exit of the bar. I looked over my shoulder to see Summer still dancing away with the strangers while Bradley flirted with other women at the bar.

“I told Bradley we were leaving,” Lesley muttered once we were finally outside. I took a deep breath of the fresh and cool air. It was so vastly different from the muggy air inside the bar.

“But I wanna say bye to Summer!” I exclaimed as Lesley took the lead towards the hotel. It was already too late because I had said that when we were blocks away from the bar.

“You can tell her where we went in the morning when you see her,” Lesley looked down at me. I sighed and rolled my eyes. Again, Lesley cared about me and I was grateful for that. I probably wouldn’t have ended up at the hotel if he didn’t take me now.

As I stumbled down the sidewalk, with Lesley’s arm around me, I rambled about everything, while at the same time nothing. Random things that didn’t matter, or silly things that crossed my mind. I didn’t even notice when Lesley just replied with the same three responses: ‘mhmm’, ‘oh really?’, ‘that’s funny’. I’m sure he had given up on holding a conversation with me. I’d do the same thing.

Somewhere between halfway and almost at the hotel, I forgot where we were going. But I was too afraid to ask him till we were inside the hotel lobby, waiting for the elevator.

“Where are we?” I murmured as I hung off Lesley’s shoulder. He looked down at me before looking back at the elevator doors.

“The hotel…”

“Are we going to your room?” I giggled as I threw my arms around his neck.

“I-Uh…”

“PUH-lease?” I begged as he took a step forward. A squeal came from me as he began dragging me towards the elevator.

“Okay! Okay! We can go to my room. I can sleep on the floor, or the armchair.” “Yay!” I jumped off his body and clapped my hands together. Lesley laughed nervously as he helped me into the elevator. “But… But why do you have to sleep on the floor or the armchair?”

“B-Because!” He shouted as he pressed the button to his floor. I squinted as I looked at him. “I shouldn’t have to have a reason.”

“Wait… Wait… Lesley, have you… Have you ever shared a bed with someone?” I looked up at him before batting my eyelashes. Lesley’s body stiffened as he looked at the scratchy silver elevator doors. I smiled as I threw my arms around his middle. “Am I taking your bed sharing ver-ginny-titty?”

“No, you’re not. I’ve shared beds with my moms.”

“That doesn’t count, Lessy. You know that,” I looked up at him with a smile. “I thought you’ve had sex before!?” I shouted as the elevator doors slid open. Two older women were standing on the other side. They heard me yell something about sex.

“Stop… Talking,” Lesley said in a harsh whisper as he looked at me.

“But! How have you never shared a bed with someone if you’ve had sex before!?” I continued to shout as Lesley pulled me off the elevator.

“Have a nice night,” he said as he looked at the older ladies. I looked at them and waved as he dragged me down the hall. “I have had sex. But…” Lesley stopped talking as he began looking for the room key. I stared at him, waiting for the rest of his answer. “I haven’t slept in the same bed as someone,” he finally finished once the key card was in his hand.

“H-How do you-”

“It just happened.”

Lesley looked at me as he unlocked the door. I smiled as he pulled me into the room. If he wasn’t holding onto me, I would have stumbled into the room and fell right to the floor. But since he was holding me, he caught me and held me upright. I looked over at him with a smile.

“So I am taking your bed sharing ver-ginny-titty,” I cackled before stumbling away from him. Lesley watched me as I approached this single queen bed. The bedding was still perfectly made, no sign of human life was seen in this room. Give or take the small suitcase sitting by the desk and a few toiletries in the bathroom.

That was until I was sitting on the bed… throwing up on the floor and my feet. Once the contents of my stomach made its home on the floor, I fell back and groaned.

“I’m so sorry, Lesley. I frew up.” I threw a hand over my face once I realized what had just happened. I could feel Lesley’s anger from my spot on the bed.

“It’s okay. I’m gonna… I’ll clean it up.” His voice was soft as he spoke. I knew he was mad, but to be fair, if someone had thrown up in my hotel room I’d be pissed, too.

I stayed quiet as Lesley worked on cleaning up the mess. Part of me wished I could do something to help, but I’d probably make it a bigger mess than it already is.

Once he was done cleaning, he sat on the opposite end of the bed and looked over at me.

“Can you go to sleep?”

“I don’t know. Can you go to sleep, Wes-wee?” I looked up at him as I readjusted so I was in the bed properly. He looked at me with an obvious tired expression in his eyes. I looked away from him before going under the covers. “Yeah, I can go to sleep,” I whispered as I shifted closer to him. “I love you, Lesley,” I sighed deeply into his chest before passing out.

{***}{***}{***}

“Oh my god, I’m never drinking again.” I pressed both my hands to my face and let out a deep, resigned sigh. Lesley nervously laughed, causing me to look up at him.

“Do you really like me though?” he asked before taking another bite from his pancakes. I froze, my fork stabbed in a pancake. The syrup oozed out of the sides as if it was blood. It was unfortunate that I was probably not going to finish my food. I was really looking forward to pancakes, too.

“I like you a lot more than you think, Lesley,” I nervously laughed again before looking down at my coffee. It was mostly gone anyway, and I wished I had more. “And have since I started working for you.”

“Oh…” He looked back down at his coffee cup. I looked between him and my mostly empty cup, feeling my heart race. “Really?” he asked, searching for confirmation. I swallowed roughly before nodding lightly.

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Why didn’t you say anything before?”

“Uh, well, you’re sort of my boss,” I breathed out a laugh before shaking my head. “Little bad when it comes to serious things and don't want to lose this job or you… But I guess because I was fucking drunk last night and told you everything, I don’t care that much,” I rambled and rolled my eyes. I lifted my mug to my lips, only to be disappointed by cold coffee, which consisted mostly of grounds.

“You didn’t want to take a risk?” “Considering I was the first person you ever shared a bed with, Lesley, you shouldn’t preach to the choir.” I glanced at him. Lesley lifted his hands in defeat. I laughed lightly and shrugged. “Like I said, I didn’t want to lose you. So I didn’t want to take that risk.”

“You want to know what would have happened if you had taken that risk?”

“I think about all the outcomes… Mostly the bad because that always happens to me,” I laughed again.

“I would have told you I loved you too,” Lesley said as he reached across the table. I looked down at my hands just as his clasped over mine. I stared at them for a moment before looking up at him.

“Really?” I asked for confirmation.

“Yeah.”

{***}{***}{***}

if you have any comments about this one-shot, let me know here i'd love to hear what you thought!

#shadow writes stuff #shadow posts stuff #matthew gray gubler imagine #matthew gray gubler #matthew gray gubler fanfiction #matthew gray gubler x reader #matthew gray gubler smut #matthew gray gubler oneshot

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sebstanseabass · 3 years

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Afterglow (A Bucky Barnes AU fan fiction) - Chapter 11

Afterglow chapters

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

A/N: I am not from the US and I've only been in New York once when I was a kid (I don't remember much lol I was six, I think), so I apologize if some of the places are inaccurate but I tried my very best to do my own research. Anyway, this is one of my favorite chapters I've written and I hope you guys enjoy it as well!

CHAPTER ELEVEN

The first whisper of the Monday air, brushed among the streets of the Upper West Side as you and Bucky decided to grab your running shoes and spend this day outside in the open air, hoping to burn all the calories you consumed last night. With a bottle of water in both your hands, you reached Central Park, catching your breaths. With sweat dripping down your forehead to your eyes, you saw a vacant bench and took the liberty to sit on it with Bucky behind you.

"Do you," Bucky sat beside you, panting and squinting his eyes and shaking off the sweat on his face, "do you run everyday?"

"Not everyday." You chuckled, taking a sip of water. "Four times a week."

"Why do you even like running? I feel like I'm in hell." He sighed, resting his neck on the brace. His breathing was restless and uneven but soon calmed down after a few moments.

"It takes my mind off things. I got a lot going on up here, y'know." You replied with much honesty. "Other people do it to keep in shape but I do it because I need it."

"I've never considered running. I just go to the gym and lift weights. Well, I have my own gym but if I'm being honest with you, I've been slacking off since the day I got here in New York."

You smiled and lifted your eyes to look at him. His face was glistening under the bright morning sun.

"Maybe it's a good thing we ran today." You nudged his shoulder with yours, his sweat-drenched skin rubbing up against your own. "You should run more. The more you do, the less you'll hate it. Trust me."

"You know what, as long as I'm with you, I will." He chuckled. "Ain't running with anybody else but you, doll."

There was a warm sensation moving up towards your cheeks. You didn't know if it was the heat of the sun or the warm blood rushing in but either way, you just knew that a pink flourish was becoming visible on your cheeks.

During that moment all you could muster was: "S-sure."

You hid your face by facing the opposite of Bucky and looked at the crowd that Central Park held. There, across the field lay a dozen picnic blankets on the bright green grass where a bunch of families and couples were reading, eating and talking audibly. Some were sitting underneath the tree for some shade. Some were walking their dogs on a leash and a poop bag ready on hand. Some were tourists with heavy backpacks just walking around. The chirping birds soaring in the air grabbed my attention, making you look up at the sky in which the bright sun hurt your eyes. You closed your eyes after that, trying to regain most of your vision. Once you did, you opened your phone and checked if Peter had left any messages. Unfortunately, there weren't any.

Peter was very vague about where his corporate retreat was, sticking to his notion that in order for him to take his mind off things, he also needed to be away from his real world, whatever that meant.

You sighed, texting Peter anyway, telling him everything was fine and that Bucky had been with you ever since he went away. You asked him how he was and hoped that everything was fine and well, and that he was enjoying his corporate retreat.

"Hey, let me take you somewhere nice today." Bucky said while tapping your sweaty shoulder, making you look up from your phone.

"Why? Where are we going?"

Bucky stood up, typing on his phone and looking around the park. "Wherever my car takes us. I figured since the bar doesn't open on Monday, you and I could do something fun that'll help you relax. Come on, you can go shower in my penthouse. I already have clothes sorted out for you in the guest room."

Your mind was still processing the part where he said that you could go shower in his penthouse.

Confused, you asked. "Wait, now?"

"Yes. Now, get up on your feet. My car's waiting on the road."

He didn't give you much time to comprehend his words, and respond, as he grabbed your hand, pulled you up from the bench. And as you ran, hand in hand, amidst the crowd, there it was again, that after feeling of spontaneity, fleeting; that same feeling you couldn't seem to explain really well — that same feeling you were wishing to avoid.

You and Bucky jogged towards the streets where a black and white Maserati with fully tinted windows was waiting on the side of the street. You thanked Bucky as he opened the door for you. He gave you a cheeky smile in response then hopped in beside you, introducing you to the driver named Howard. Howard nodded his head and smiled at you through the rearview mirror.

Once the car revved forward, you shifted uncomfortably in your seat, weary that your sweat was getting all over the expensive leathered seats of Bucky's car. You moved a bit forward in an oh-so-subtle movement, pushing your body against the strap of the seatbelt across your chest and did your best as you could to avoid sweating all over the seats. With one strong swift move, Bucky pulled your arm back, throwing your back against the seat and told you to relax.

You greeted Leonard with a smile and a wave once you arrived in White Wolf. You and Bucky exchanged some small conversation in the elevator which led right into the penthouse, something about the last time you were here. You both laughed at the memory as you teased him about it.

The penthouse didn't change as much the last time you were here; the only difference was there was no woman with little to no clothing waiting for Bucky to arrive. You looked towards the huge glass windows, your lips curved downward as you were hoping to get a good view of New York that was hiding behind the draped curtains. Bucky led the way towards the guest room in a well-lit hallway on the second floor. You walked under little chandeliers hanging from above. On the walls were duplicate Van Gogh paintings, and framed photographs of nature that blended well with the color scheme of the paintings, as well as the penthouse.

"I picked out some clothes for you that I thought you might like and had my assistant bring them over here." Bucky said, opening the door.

Feeling a bit guilty, you said: "Bucky, you didn't have to."

"I insist. Besides, I'm in charge of you for the whole week." He smiled, leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed.

You playfully rolled your eyes. "I told you, I can take care of myself."

"I'm older than you so you do what I tell you." He just dismissed your remark, and added: "Now go shower. I'll meet you downstairs for some brunch."

With that, Bucky closed the door behind him, leaving you in a state of awe as you looked around the guest room which was twice as big as your room. It was like a duplicate of the living room but smaller, and with a king-sized bed in the middle on the far back with clothes and some towels draped along the edge. A telescope stands near the glass walls. Beside it sits two dainty cushioned chairs, and a miniature coffee table. There was a flat screen 32-inch television facing the bed.

You walked near the curtains, slithered your finger between the noticeable gap and took a small peek outside.

You stepped into the insides of the bathroom which was near the size of your room. Everything felt so unfamiliar to you but you bathed everything in and relaxed as soon as the small prickle of the cold shower water hit the soft spots of your body.

You got out of the guest room, feeling fresh from the cold shower. You wore some cropped halter top, heathered trousers and slipped on some fuzzy slippers that were quite big for your size, even though your feet were already big. You quickly assumed it was Bucky's.

"Did you, by any chance, get me some shoes too?" You joked as you approached the kitchen, eyeing the bagels on a big plate on the rectangular island in the center. You hopped on one of the high stools, grabbed one and smeared cream cheese on it. "Just kidding, I love these fuzzy slippers."

Bucky's back was facing you, busy flipping some pancakes on the stove. "You're not wearing that outside. And yes, I do have some but they're mostly Peter's. Don't worry he hasn't used them yet."

"That's alright. We're the same size."

Bucky turned around, a big pan on his right hand. He approached you and flipped a pancake on top of a tower of pancakes on a plate.

"You like the clothes I picked out for you?" He asked and sat down on the high stool.

"Yes, thank you. But seriously, you didn't have to."

"Okay, so let me get this straight... You let me pay for food and alcohol but not clothes?"

You laughed. "It's a different thing! Those were cheap, these," you touched the fabric of your shirt and trousers, "are obviously expensive. They don't have that thrift smell my clothes have. And besides, I need food but not clothes so you paying for my food was a big win for me."

Now, it was his turn to laugh, shoving a piece of pancake into his mouth. "Okay from now on, all I should hear from you when I give you stuff is thank you."

"But... why?"

"Because social convention dictates us to."

"I know, but, why are you giving me stuff?"

"How else am I going to keep you around?" He winked as he continued to chew.

"Bucky." You warned.

"Okay, okay." He chuckled. "The thing to know about me is I love spoiling people — people that I trust and I'm obviously comfortable around you."

Not knowing any other way to answer, you just said: "Oh, well... Thank you."

"And of course, the thing I said before too." He laughed and you threw a bagel at him in response.

You and Bucky enjoyed your little brunch while planning the day ahead of you: go around Fifth Street, and perhaps Broadway, maybe go to the Chelsea market and as Bucky said: "Just go wherever our feet take us!"

Once both of you were done, you headed down White Wolf, with Bucky's Maserati waiting in front. You greeted Howard as you climbed in.

"You know what would be nice?" You started once the car moved forward. "Capturing people's moments in a crowded street." You said, picturing Fifth Street in your head.

"Oh, that's right." Bucky replied. "Here." With his large hand, he handed you a camera. But it wasn't just any camera. It was yours.

"Wait, is this my camera?" You asked, taking it from him. He nodded in response. "Bucky, what the hell, you went through my stuff?"

"Not me. Howard."

"Howard?!"

"Don't worry, miss," Howard spoke, glancing through the rearview mirror where you saw your own reflection, "I didn't take anything else and put everything back in place. I just did what Mr. Barnes told me to do."

"James." You scolded.

"What are you James-ing me for?" He said, leaning against the seat, clearly stifling a laugh. "He's the one who went through your stuff!"

"You are such a child." You rolled your eyes. "You're the one who told him to."

"You heard him, he didn't take anything else."

"Next time you pull something like this, you ought to let me know okay?"

He lifted his eyes to look at you, teeth biting his inner cheek, a smile wanting to reveal itself. "Okay."

You sighed but you also couldn't help but smile at your camera. It had been a long time since you've operated it as you have been so busy in the bar and hadn't had clients for a while now. You closed it immediately, seeing as the battery was just at fifty percent.

You and Bucky got out of the vehicle as soon as Howard reached Fifth street and entered the Lacoste building with no rush. You held your camera close to your chest, the strap feeling a bit heavier on the back of your neck as the hours passed but the weight of pleasure of taking photos of the street from the inside of the glass windows overwhelmed that.

All the stores looked so unfamiliar to you. The stores you usually go to had dimly-lit rooms with low ceilings, and instead of tiled floors and walls, they had chipped to almost rotten wood walls. The smell of new clothes in these designer stores filled your lungs, the bright incandescent lights nearly caused blindness to your eyes, the amount of men and women dressed in suits, stockings, and skirts were nothing you had ever seen before, designer clothes were hanging on racks color-codedly, or by season, or by new and old collection, the eyes of the security guards in each entrance lurked from miles away until you get inside the store, and today, you have seen Bucky's sleek, black credit card get swiped into the little machines a hundred times. He bought some clothes for himself, and Peter, whom he actually promised to.

Bucky even handed you some clothes, told you to put them on and when they did fit you, he immediately went towards the counter.

Feeling as if everything was too much, you refused but all he said was:

"From now on, when I buy you things all you have to say is thank you."

Overpowered, you just nodded and said exactly what he wanted you to say: "Thank you." And as hours passed more shopping bags were in my bags (yes, you insisted to carry what he had bought you, and when he refused, you gave him back his words, a little taste of his own medicine: "From now on, when you buy me things all you have to do is let me carry them.")

"Ah, throwing my words back to me. I see."

As you walked around a whole lot more, side by side, exposed elbows and lonely fingers constantly brushing against each other, you talked about things you both loved. Nothing about Bucky's hotel business, nothing about the bar, just the things in life which made you both happy — photographs, paintings, and everything about art. He saw the world through yours. You were just beginning to see his but the details weren't enough for you. You craved more of what was in his mind and in his life — no, not the business, parties, booze and all that.

But the things that separate him from that world, and the things he grew up with before that.

A lot of questions swarmed in your head, trying to think of ways to ask them but Bucky merely insisted on knowing you. All of you. But just like him, you too had your guards up, especially around your family issues.

Then you reached Chelsea market. You didn't know how but you did. You spotted Bucky's car parked on one street and told you to leave all the things he had bought inside. After saying your goodbye to Howard who, afterwards, drove towards the bumper-to-bumper traffic in Manhattan, you and Bucky headed to wherever your feet you. You were feeling a ton lighter without the shopping bags dragging your hands and you could now freely touch and open your camera.

Bucky, with a Grande Starbucks cup in one hand, looked around with a big smile planted on his face. You walked around, seeing the art district of New York through your lenses. You grabbed Bucky's attention by calling his name and when he turned around, you snapped a shot of him. Eyes wide. Brows furrowed together. Lips in a state of bafflement.

"Hey, delete that!" He protested.

You laughed, turning your body in the opposite direction. "No way! It's a good picture!"

"No, it's not!"

You kept on laughing, mumbling a bunch of "sorry"s and "excuse me"s along the way, the camera still shoved in your face.

Your lens caught a familiar name from afar, printed in neon red: Wanda. You stood there in the middle of the crowd, leaving Bucky to wonder what had happened.

"Let's go there." You said, making your way across the street where it was.

"Where?"

"Just follow me."

Bucky held no questions no more as your feet treaded towards the building of Wanda's studio. Once you reached it, you merely stood meters away from it, looking at the sign.

"Wandavision." You mumbled under your breath then bit your inner cheek afterwards, contemplating if you should go in and say hi but that didn't matter anymore because standing behind the tall glass windows was Wanda herself.

Again, she gave you that oh-so-sweet smile of hers, long red locks cascading down her shoulder as she walked towards the door. You gestured to Bucky to come with you, no questions asked.

"Y/n!" Wanda exclaimed, wrapping her arms around you as you and Bucky entered the building. "Oh, it's so good to see you."

"You too, Wanda."

"And who's this dapper man of yours?"

Beside you, Bucky's body vibrated, a chuckle coming out of his mouth as he offered his hand. "I'm Bucky Barnes. Nice to meet you."

Wanda shook his hand. "Nice to meet you, too." She gave you a knowing smile, taunting you, but you dismissed her assumptions by shaking your head no, and then she pouted.

Wanda led you further down her large, wide studio, giving us a tour.

"I'm quite surprised you came by, Y/n."

"We were just walking around the market and saw your studio." You replied. "Wanda, what you have here is... so beautiful."

"Thank you. I really appreciate that. I've wanted this since I was a little girl. It's always been the dream."

The inside was bright, with fair white walls, floor and ceiling, and smelled of fresh lavender. On one corner, it smelled of fabrics, make-up, and hairspray. Framed photos of Wanda hung on the walls. There was a dressing area on a corner, and a comfortable couch, perhaps, for visitors as well as the models. A mini kitchen stood in the far back. On top of the cute marbled island was a coffee maker, and a mini fridge. There was one room solely for the post-production process, her main office. A giant paper backdrop had taken a huge space on the floor. Around it were different kinds of large lights, tripods, chairs and other expensive equipment for photography.

She had it all. Everything you've pictured yourself having.

Wanda had it all.

"You've come at the right time. There's not much going on today but I have tons of clients coming for the next few days but really, feel free to come by anytime you want."

"I will, thank you."

Howard picked you right up outside Wandavision. The whole ride was filled with uncomfortable silence.

"Your friend's really nice." Bucky said, trying to clear the atmosphere. "She's a bit too chatty for me but she's nice."

"Yeah." You answered, your head pressed against the window. "Really nice."

"Are you okay, doll?"

You hummed. "I am. Just a bit tired s'all."

"Listen, I just have to head to the White Wolf but Howard will drop you by the apartment, okay? The shopping bags are already there but you don't have to worry about them, I'll take care of them as soon as I get back. Just take a rest, okay? Maybe a short nap. I'll grab you dinner on the way. How does that sound?"

Tired to even tell him you didn't need to babied, you just said: "Okay. Thank you, Bucky."

You did as Bucky told you to. You ignored the bags sitting on the couch, placed your camera on your nightstand and took a damn nap. When you woke up, instead of feeling better, you felt sick to your stomach. Your phone lit up, a message from Bucky displayed on the screen:

"Sorry for the delay. I'm currently stuck in traffic. I'll see you in 20."

You sighed and with an empty stomach, and an occupied mind, you put on your jacket, anticipating a cold rush, grabbed your keys to the bar and headed down. You went straight behind the counter, jumped over it and found an unopened vodka.

You drank the vodka, drank all your troubles away and as you sat there on the floor, weeping, the place you worked at felt too much familiar to you. So much so that you began to hate it and to hate the kind of life you had been living. Who were you fucking kidding? No, you didn't like juggling two jobs. It sucked. Even though it had been giving you the ability to pay half of the rent, it still sucked.

This wasn't what you wanted.

A few moments have passed. You were already on your second bottle. There was a sound coming from the back which began to startle you. A certain Steve emerged from his office, a look of concern evident on his face.

"Stevieeee!" You stood up, well, tried to anyway. "You're here!"

"Y/n, what the hell." He took you in his big muscular arms, his one hand carefully yanking the bottle of vodka on your hand and placing it on the counter. "You're drunk. You should go home. Where's Peter?"

"He's away. He left. Wait, why are you here?"

"I just had to take care of some things."

"Is Nat back there with you? It's okay, shh, shh, I know about you too."

"Oh, God. Did she tell you?"

"Puh-lease! You imprinted your scent on her like a werewolf."

He just sighed. "Let's get you to your apartment."

"Don't worry, Stevie, I won't tell. Hey, call Bucky. Grab my phone. It's on my ass." You giggled and then hiccuped. He carefully grabbed your phone from your back pocket, let you enter my password which took forever, and then called Bucky.

"He'll be here in a minute or two." Steve said, sliding your phone back in your pocket. "Let's get you seated, alright?"

He sat you in one of the booths. "I'll get you some water, okay?"

You didn't respond. Your eyes were fixated on the photos on the wall. With your breath rapidly increasing, you stood by your knees, and grabbed as many photos as you could. Steve slid in the booth with you, handing you a glass of water. You took a small sip, avoiding his eyes.

"What happened, y/n?"

You didn't give him an answer to his question and just downed the water. But you did ask him something. "Why'd you buy my photos, Steve? Is it because you pitied me that day?"

"What? No, I truly believe you have amazing photos."

"But what?"

"What?"

"There's always a but. What is it, Steve?"

"But nothing, y/n."

"Liar." You muttered. "You're a liar."

"Look, I can't help you if you don't tell me what's going on."

"I don't need help. I'm not a child!"

"You clearly are, especially when you're behaving like one. You come in here, drink an expensive bottle of whiskey, cry on the floor and ask me a bunch of ridiculous things. It's okay to ask for help sometimes."

"I'll pay for the bottle if that's what you're asking."

"No, I don't care about that. I care about what's going on with you right now because this isn't you, y/n."

"Oh please, you don't. You just pity me! That's why you bought those two photos, that's why you let me put my photos up here in the bar. I'm no good, Steve! I'm no good."

"Y/n — "

Then, a door slammed, a running Bucky coming inside. "Hey, doll. I'm here. Hey, hey, what happened?"

"Let's just go, Bucky." You stood up beside Bucky who held your waist for balance.

"Thank you for calling me." Bucky told Steve.

"Just take her home safely."

"I live right upstairs." You groaned.

"And make sure she doesn't drink anymore or do anything stupid." Steve scolded, his eyes locked on yours.

Bucky held you all the way towards the outside of the bar, and guided you towards the steps that led to the sidewalk. A black limo was on the street. With the windows rolled down, Howard asked, "Is everything alright, Mr. Barnes?"

"Everything's okay, Howie. You can go back now."

"Wait!" You exclaimed, slipping away from Bucky's arms and headed towards the limo. "Howard, take us somewhere."

"Y/n, what are you doing?"

You didn't give him time to wait for an answer as you opened the door and climbed inside the spacious limo. Bucky climbed in, confused.

"Y/n, are you going to tell me what's going on?"

You gave no answer, instead, you gave Howard the address. "450 West 15th Street."

The ride was more silent and shorter. He tried offering you food he had bought but you kindly refused, dreading to get out of the limo. You held on to your photos so tight that marks, scratches and folds were visible even in the dark.

When you reached your destination, you quickly hopped out, with Bucky following you.

"What are we doing back here?"

You were standing in front of Wanda's studio, the red neon lights illuminating on the concrete street, giving a bit of life on this side of New York.

You sat down on the floor, against a big pot of plant, your eyes never leaving the sign. Bucky, still confused, followed suit anyway.

"You know, my parents told me I'd never make it here. The day I left my home to live here, they told me, 'you'll never amount to anything. You'll never have a good life in New York. You'll never make it as a photographer. That's not a real job.' And I told them I will make it that I'll work my ass off, blood, sweat, tears, I'll do anything to prove them wrong. But don't you just hate it when they're right? I left my family, lost my communication to my siblings for this ridiculous dream I've been chasing for years. Everything I've done here feels like nothing."

At this point, you didn't want to hear anything or anyone besides yourself. So you were more than glad to hear nothing from Bucky, and to feel his fingers interlaced with yours.

"Wanda and I met in college; a year younger than me. We shared a love for photography and arts. Then we kind of just lost touch after I graduated. And then I saw her a week ago. She looked so happy and so content and I could feel her pity on me, her eyes, her touch. It was the first time I felt so small and I didn't think I could feel smaller but then we went here. Everything I wanted for myself, the things I pictured myself having and doing... She's living it. She's out there and I'm not. And I really hoped that by now, I've proved my parents wrong but turns out they're right. They were right all along. I don't amount to anything. I'm nothing."

"Wandavision." You laughed bitterly. "Wanda's vision. That right there. That's fucking clever."

"Let's get you home, doll. Please?"

"I want to stay, Bucky."

"We'll talk when we get back. Please, y/n."

You didn't agree to anything but he lifted you up anyway, guiding you towards the limo which was still on the street.

The partition was up. Even though Howard was inside the limo as well, at that moment it was just you and Bucky.

So, you cried, like how the skies cried, in Bucky's arms. You wept for all the unpaid rent and debts, for the menial job that you ended up in, for your failed career as a photographer, for your selfish parents, for your isolation from your college friends, for your insecurities, for your dog that died when you left for college, for your former lover that abused you, for the books you left unread, for all the wrong choices, for all the money you wasted during your college days, for all the toxic people you've ever met, for all the alcohol stains you had to wipe for years, for all the food intake during your peak of stress in school, for the only cherries you tasted, for the drunk sex you've always regretted, for the drunk kiss with Peter you've always regretted, and for the incoming mistake you were about to do.

"Kiss me." You whispered, lifting your head from his chest. "Kiss me, Bucky."

He shook his head no. Your noses touched. "Why not?" Your breaths moved together.

"Because right now, you're a mess." He whispered. "You're very vulnerable and drunk. I can't."

"I'm giving you all the consent I need. Kiss me."

"Not like this, doll."

Instead of going for your dry lips, he placed his lips on your forehead, his mouth and breath lingering. "Not like this."

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