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buckyskorpion · 4 years

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11 hours - part five

Pairing: Biker!Bucky x Reader

Summary: bucky is the mystery you can’t wait to solve. if you can get out of his bed long enough, that is. a biker au.

Warnings: gang-typical violence, sex scenes, alcohol mentions, probably more to come so stay tuned

A/N: alright things escalated VERY QUICKLY but shit had to go down sometime. i hope you enjoy! and sorry for the delay, i really been goin thru it recently. this part is 7k to make up for it lmao i wont be taking tags for this so please dont ask.

title taken from 11 hours by wet | playlist | my ko-fi

masterlist

It’s a big day. You had held Bucky’s hand as you stood in the doorway to his apartment, playing with his rings so you didn’t have to meet his eyes. You were nervous, not because you didn’t trust Bucky but because with every secret spilled you felt like a layer of your skin was being peeled away. But you’d held his hand and told him to pick you up tonight from your office. You handed him your business card, a physical embodiment of trust you hadn’t given to anyone else. It wasn’t your apartment address, sure, but it was something and Bucky held the card with the biggest, boyish grin on his face that melted your heart.

The real reason you’re so nervous is because if whoever followed you from Bucky’s apartment is following Bucky, then they’ll follow him right to your office door. You’d had a long talk to yourself in the bathroom mirror the other night, however, and decided you weren’t going to let a hypothetical stalker ruin yet another relationship for you. Not that stalkers are common in your life, but using any excuse to distance yourself and cut people out is most definitely your regular MO. Not this time.

That being said, stalkers aren’t common in your life so you are, understandably, fixated by it. You are sure it has something to do with Bucky because you don’t believe in coincidences and the guy literally followed you from Bucky’s apartment. The big question is, was the stalker after Bucky or were they after you? Since you have next to nothing to go on, you aren’t exactly on your way to answering that one yet. But you’ll get there, eventually, and you’ve got some ideas.

In the meantime, you wait for Bucky and attempt to tidy your organised mess. He’s meant to show up at seven on his bike, but seven is going on eight and he’s yet to show. You try not to picture the worst or convince yourself you’re being stood up, even though that’s what it feels like. The one time you give out personal details and he doesn’t show. That would be your luck. You kick a filing drawer closed a bit too harshly, the metal clanging loud in your deafeningly silent office. Whatever. It’s not like anyone is left in the building to judge you because Bucky is over an hour late and every other office in the place is long empty.

You water your desperately dry indoor plants, even the one on top of your bookshelf - a testament to how hard you’re trying to distract yourself from the imminent heartbreak. You stand on tiptoes on your swivel chair to reach the crispy fern, something your dad would yell at you for if he could see you, but he can’t so you just pray the wheels don’t slip out from under you. It’s a very precarious precision for you to be in when someone bangs your office door open and stumbles inside, that’s for sure. You nearly break your entire body falling from the chair, but catch yourself on the bookcase before any real damage can be done.

The invader slams the door shut behind them, making you flinch once again as you spin around to face your would-be attacker. Only it's not someone breaking and entering - it’s Bucky, panting heavily and bleeding from his temple while he turns slowly on his heel and assesses every corner of your tiny office for threats.

“Bucky?” you call out, hesitant to approach and startle him incase it’s not your office that he’s seeing. His dog tags hang out the neck of his t-shirt when they’re usually always carefully tucked under the fabric, and you notice now he’s not just bleeding from his head but somewhere under that shirt as well. He looks over at your voice and it takes a second for him to focus properly on you, shoulders visibly slumping, closing the space in three quick strides.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, pulling you bodily into a crushing hug. You wrap your arms around his waist, carefully holding him in case he’s got even more injuries you can’t see, but he squeezes you so tight you find it hard to breathe. He has one arm around your shoulders, that hand tangled in your hair and he presses your head into his shoulder. You feel him nose into the hair at the crown of your head, breathe in deep, let it out in shudders.

“You’re hurt,” you say into his t-shirt, and he shakes his head while still pressing his face into your scalp.

“M’fine, s’just blood,” he mumbles, barely coherent, so you let it go for the moment. You let him hold you and you hug him back, splaying your palms flat against his back and pressing him impossibly closer to you.

Eventually, you peel yourself from him in order to give him a once over. He smiles down at you like he’s amused, but you hardly find the situation funny when Bucky’s blood is literally all over you, now. You take his hand and make him sit on your swivel chair, spinning uselessly in the middle of the room from where it slid out from under you and rolled away. There’s a first aid kit in a box near the window, because you can never be too careful, and you take to soaking gauze in alcohol solution instead of speaking. You don’t trust what would come out of your mouth right now, anyway.

Luckily, Bucky fills the silence for you. He bites his lip as he looks over at you, taking in the tense set of your shoulders and jerky movements as you dig around for bandages. Then he says, “I got caught up, I really am sorry.”

You nod, but you still don’t speak. Instead you grab your supplies and move over to Bucky, avoiding his eyes as you assess the one wound you can see. Bucky has a thin cut from the corner of his eye to his hairline, shallow but bleeding profusely due to the thin skin there. You suck in a deep breath and start dabbing the soaked gauze on the wound, outside to inside, watching as the white turns coppery red with every swipe. Your stomach twists at the sight, and to your horror, you find you could almost cry.

“Doll,” Bucky says, eyebrows creasing up as if he’s just as upset as you feel. He hooks one big hand around your thigh, tugging until you let him manhandle you onto his lap. “I mean it, I didn’t mean to keep you waiting.”

“I don’t care that you were late,” you snap, clenching your jaw until you can get your flash of frustration under control. You drop your hand from his face, curling up further onto Bucky’s lap despite yourself as his arms come round to hug you to his chest. His bloodstained, most likely injured chest. You take a deep breath and ask, “What happened?”

“You wanna know?” Bucky asks. When you finally meet his eyes he doesn’t seem to be shutting down, shutting you out like you expect when it comes to talking about Bucky’s biker lifestyle. He just looks sad, and you let yourself soften just a bit to run your fingers down his jaw.

Bucky’s eyes flutter closed when you touch him, and you say, “I already told you - I just wanna know. No secrets.”

“No secrets,” Bucky affirms, smiling as he opens his eyes again. The corners are tight, though, as he starts to explain. “One of the things we do - the gang, y’know - is run protection details. Me and Sam were on it, supposed to be a simple job, but we got shitty intel and ended up having to fight our way out of a crappy spot. We got out, finished the job, but it definitely didn’t go to plan. ”

“Protection for what?” you ask. This is the most open Bucky has ever been when talking about his gang, so you’re not going to pass up this opportunity for a bit more information.

“For who,” Bucky corrects, smiling at you like he knows what you’re doing. He starts stroking up and down your shoulder blades as he talks, soothing the both of you it seems. “Rich businessmen, low-level politicians, mob affiliates - anyone who’s got a target on their back and need to get from point A to point B. They’re easy jobs for us ex-army guys and they pay well.”

“Better pay than fixing cars, I bet,” you say. Your attempt at levity works and Bucky grins. The way it makes his face turn young and open is so at odds with the trickle of blood down his cheek.

“Gotta be able to pay for your drinks somehow,” he says, and you slap his shoulder. He mock-winces and says, “Hey! I’m bleeding, ya gotta be nice to me.”

“Don’t gotta do shit,” you mumble, reminding you to press the gauze you’re still holding back on the wound on his temple to stem some of the bleeding. He hisses for real this time, the sting of the alcohol probably burning a bit, especially so close to his eye. You press a kiss to his cheek and in apology and Bucky hums, tightening his grip around your body to hold you close again.

“M’sorry I ruined our night,” he says, “I wish I could promise it won’t happen again, but I can’t.”

“Don’t be sorry,” you say, and he meets your eyes, slightly confused. You smile and say, “Not when you’re hurt. I know what I signed up for, I just want you to be ok.”

“What if, one day, I’m not ok?” Bucky asks, serious now, and you take your time before you answer him. His cut is clean of dried blood, and it’s stopped oozing any more. You doubt it’ll get infected so you should bandage it up but you can’t make yourself move from Bucky’s lap. Not just yet.

“I’ll fix you up,” you say. “That’s what we’re doing, right? Taking care of each other.”

Bucky blinks, once, as if allowing your words to download in his brain like a data file. Then he kisses you. He slides a hand up to cradle your head and presses soft, slow kisses to your lips like he’s got all the time in the world. He came storming in like a hurricane but now you’re in the eye, calm and quiet settling over you both as you cup his jaw and kiss into him all the tenderness you're too afraid to say. You mend his bleeding head and adrenaline-addled heart while he soothes your fear. Taking care of each other, and it feels nice to let someone else do that for once.

You know what Bucky is leaving out. The I hurt people admission, the fact he might have killed someone tonight, that the blood on his shirt isn’t just his. You really thought you’d care more - about the not knowing, about the truth of it, about everything. But he’s breathing and alive underneath you, trailing kisses and stubble burn from your mouth to your cheek to your temple, and all of those superfluous details become white noise. You’re surprised to find the simple fact that Bucky is alright is enough to supersede all the gaps you would usually itch to fill.

Bucky spins you both, tucking your legs up closer so you don’t overbalance as he looks around your office in a dizzying circle. A spike of nerves makes you feel sick for a second but Bucky smiles as he looks around, like he’s pleased with this part of your life he’s been able to see, and it makes you feel less afraid.

“This is where the magic happens, huh?” he asks, and you laugh at his teasing. “It’s very normal.”

“What did you expect? Like ‘Sherlock Holmes’ or something?” you ask. Bucky shrugs, mouth twitching like he’s trying not to laugh.

“Maybe,” he says, then squints at you like he’s considering something. “So, no violin?”

“No violin, and no Mrs Hudson. I make my own tea,” you say, grinning up at Bucky even though he’s being stupid.

“Yeah, right,” Bucky snorts, “Pour your own wine, you mean.”

“Are you calling me a drunk?” you gasp, reeling back from Bucky and almost sending yourself off his lap and onto the floor. Bucky grips you tighter, laughing at the offence written all over your face, and then extracts an arm to point meaningfully at the half empty bottle of red by the side of your desk.

“The evidence speaks for itself,” he says. You fold your arms in a huff, if only to have him kiss the top of your head in a silent apology.

“You stick to the gang stuff, I’ll stick to the investigating,” you huff, and Bucky kisses you again until you wipe the frown from your face.

“Alright, smart girl,” he says. He stands, holding you up like it’s nothing and you can’t deny how hot that is, even if he is being condescending to you right now. He sets you down on your feet and smooths out your jacket, the warmth of his hands seeping through the leather as they pass over your shoulders and down your arms. He links his fingers into one of your hands, smiling down at you, and says, “Can we rain check dinner? I think I need a shower.”

Bucky stands unnaturally close to you as you lock up your office and head out, scanning the street while you lock the back door and set the alarm system for the building. He takes your hand wordlessly and leads you to his bike, parked haphazardly on the sidewalk and just begging for a ticket. He hands you a helmet but is looking over your shoulder, not at you, and both of those things are worrying - you’ve never known Bucky to wear a helmet, let alone offer you one. You didn’t know he owned one. You feel fidgety, your skin crawling like you’re being watched, and Bucky must feel it too because he’s a bit rough in manhandling you onto the bike as quickly as possible.

“Bucky,” you say, and he twists around to give you a clinical once over - much like you’d done to him when he’d come to you bloody and breathless. You feel sick to your stomach, guilt and fear twisting in your gut, as you ask, “Do you think someone followed you here?”

Bucky’s face is impassive, but you’d like to think you know him well enough to read the tick by the corner of his eyes as a silent, muttered, shit. He licks his lips and says, “I can’t know the answer to that for sure.”

“But there’s a chance,” you say, and your heart is hammering so loud you barely hear your own voice. If someone finds your office then they find you, and the carefully constructed bubble of anonymity you’ve created is shattered in the space of a second. But you knew that, that’s what Bucky asked you on his couch - will you stay? Knowing Bucky is the antithesis of your comfort zone, will you stay anyway?

“Nothing is going to happen to you,” Bucky says definitively. You scan his eyes for trace of a lie but there is none. Bucky’s jaw is set, and he reaches up to grip your chin and hold your gaze on his, making sure you hear him. “Just like you said - we take care of each other. I’ll always take care of you.”

You let out a shaky breath, one you hadn’t known you’d been holding, and Bucky kisses the trill of fear away. You feel like you’ve dived off a cliff face, Bucky holding your hand all the way down the precipice of trust you’d promised yourself you’d never cross. But Bucky promises he’ll take care of you and god, it’s stupid but you want him to. You want his to be the arms you land in at the end of this free-fall. Even if, given who Bucky is, that’s the most dangerous place to be.

“Speaking of no secrets,” you say, more of mumble into his mouth than anything. Bucky pulls away, adorably puppy-like look of confusion on his face, and your stomach twists with guilt. “Remember the night of the party? At Sam’s bar?”

Bucky nods. He’s twisted uncomfortably on the seat of his bike and the helmet you’ve yet to put on is digging in o your stomach where you’re holding it. This isn’t the best place to be having this conversation but Bucky’s promise has made you brave, and if you don’t go against your own word now you never will. Not once have you ever spilled details of a case before you’d cracked it. This isn’t a case, you have to remind yourself. This is your life.

“That morning, when I left,” you say, omitting the fact it’s the first time you ever used his front door and will most certainly be the last, “someone followed me from your building. I shook them off, but they were waiting for me to leave and I don’t know if they were casing your apartment or if they were there for me, or what. I’m sorry, I should’ve told you, I just-“

“You just what?” Bucky doesn’t sound angry. Worse, he sounds cold. Shut down, clinical, and the way his face has pinched off makes your heart break.

“I didn’t know if I could trust you,” you say, looking down at your lap to avoid the way he’s looking at you like a stranger. Saying it out loud makes it sound so much worse, but it’s the truth and Bucky deserves that at least. “To be honest, I’m still not sure. But I want to. If I’m going to trust anyone, I want it to be you.”

It’s several moments before you’re brave enough to meet Bucky’s eyes again. He is coming back to you slowly, the shutters pulling up from his eyes as confusion seeps out. He scans your face and says, “Usually I would tell you that’s a really stupid idea, but I think you already know that.”

“Stupid ideas are kind of my thing,” you say, and that makes Bucky smile. Relief is bone deep, hits so hard you could slump from the bike in a pile of goo. He’s not mad. In fact, he leans forward in what must be a truly uncomfortable twist to press his forehead against yours and closes his eyes, breathes in deep. You follow suit, so ridiculously relieved you still get to do this while simultaneously trying to control the adrenaline rush from handing over what feels like you’re entire life to someone else.

All your life it feels like it’s always been you versus the world. Your dad raised you that way, to rely on no one but yourself so you can never be let down, not even him. It feels wrong on a cellular level to trust Bucky like you are so blindly doing. Every instinct screams at you to run, to figure this out on your own, that Bucky would normally be one of your main suspects in a regular case. But here you are, showing Bucky all your cards, hoping against hope that you won’t live to regret it.

“No more secrets,” Bucky says, and you nod. You feel his eyelashes tangle with yours as you move, pressed so close like this, and you open your eyes to stare at the veiny lids covering his. “Next time someone follows you, you tell me.”

“Yes sir,” you say, grinning at the warning pinch he gives to your hip.

“Let’s go to the shop,” Bucky says, pulling away from you and turning back to gun his bike to life. “The guys can help us figure this stalker shit out.”

“The guys?” you ask, and your chest does something painfully restrictive at the thought of letting more people in. “As in, everyone? Like, your gang?”

Bucky laughs, like the way you say ‘gang’ is so goddamn amusing, and throws you one last look over his shoulder. You tug the helmet on as he revs the bike, suddenly regretting every other time you’ve gotten on this thing without one, as Bucky says, “Yeah, doll, my gang. That’s kinda the whole point - we help each other out.”

You hadn’t really thought of it like that before. Truthfully, your mind had been filled with shady drug deals and bloody fights, turf wars and tattoos and angry men on bikes. Bucky’s friends and the nights you’ve spent with them seem like a different world, the joy and love entirely removed from the illegal life Bucky leads outside of your reach, but you have to remind yourself - they’re one and the same. Your Bucky cannot be removed from the biker you’ve been kept seperate from.

Clinging to Bucky’s waist, you say, “Sounds very after school special for a gang, tough guy.”

You can practically see Bucky grinning just by looking at the back of his head as takes off, the streets of Brooklyn peeling away as heads for White Wolf Mechanics. Your anxiety and fear sheds off as well, floating away in strips down the tarmac like an outer layer of skin. You feel vulnerable, all new and exposed as you hold Bucky close so you don’t fall. That’s what makes it feel bearable - Bucky’s back against your cheek, the hand he places over yours against his stomach when you pull up at a red light. His promise, echoing under the rumble of the bike beneath you. I’ll always take care of you.

~~~

The shop looks closed from the outside, but you can hear a low bass-line from the street and people laughing somewhere inside. Bucky brings you round the back, the roller doors out front closed this time, and into the back rooms you’d yet to see since that first visit a few weeks ago. To your left you see what must be Bucky’s office, but the room he tugs you to looks more like a bachelor pad living room than a mechanics break room.

Sam and Steve lay sprawled on leather couches, beers open on the coffee table made of old crates stacked together. The Killers pumps through a very, very nice sound system which Natasha is quietly singing along to where she lays on top of the pool table, legs kicking off the edge to the beat. Her beer rests on her stomach, rising and falling with every breath, and she doesn’t even raise her head as she waves at the two of you entering. Sam lifts the icepack from his eye to look at you, grinning wide, and kicks Steve in the shin to get his attention.

“Barnes is back,” he says, rolling his eyes as Steve blearily blinks awake from what was clearly an unplanned nap. Steve focuses on you and Bucky, eyebrows drawn down in confusion, and Sam adds, “and he’s brought his girl.”

“Shouldn’t you be at dinner or something?” Steve asks, then seems to remember himself and smiles all big and perfect at you. “It’s great to see you again, by the way.”

“Quit brown-nosing, it’s embarrassing,” Sam says, and throws his icepack at Steve’s head. He swats it away, squawking at the wetness it leaves behind on his hand and cheek, which makes Sam grin.

“I need a beer for this,” Bucky mutters so only you can hear, which makes you smile. You lead the way to the minibar in the corner, right by the bookshelf full of video games and the cardboard cut-out of Guy Fieri (you don’t want to ask). Bucky follows, grabbing your hand and tugging you back into his chest as you walk - even without the watchful eyes of the other gang affiliates which usually follow you at his parties, Bucky seems hell bent on making sure everyone knows who you’re here with. Even his closest friends.

You can’t say you entirely mind.

“So, to what do we owe the pleasure?” Natasha asks. She’s sat up now, twisting on the pool table to face you both as Bucky grabs you some beers. Sam and Steve still continue to argue about nonsense on the couches and are ignored by the three of you for the moment. However, they stop bickering as soon as Bucky speaks again.

“Someone’s been watching my building,” he says. The silence is thick, and you feel almost guilty for ruining their fun night with your stalker woes. Bucky hands you a beer and looks at you pointedly, eyebrows raised. You take a sip before you follow his not-so-subtle direction to start talking.

“I was followed home the morning after Sam’s party at the bar,” you say. You have the full attention of Bucky’s closest friends, and you can’t help but feel a little intimidated. You take a deep breath and decide to look at the situation like you were debriefing a client on a case - remove yourself from the equation. “There was a man smoking against the building next to Bucky’s. He followed me about four blocks before I lost him. He was over six foot, caucasian, brown hair and stubble.”

“Sounds like every white guy,” Sam says. “You could be describing Bucky, for all we know.”

“Yes,” you say, frowning. “If I was putting a tail on someone, I would make them very nondescript. Makes sense, right?”

“And you’re sure he was following you?” Natasha asks. You glance at her, but she doesn’t look like she’s condescending you or anything. Surprisingly, she looks like she believes you far more than the other two men in the room. Maybe your trial by fire proved to her you know what you’re talking about, so you nod.

“Definitely. Either he knew I was there and was waiting for me to leave, or he was watching Bucky’s apartment and would have followed anyone who came out of it. Without more information I can’t be sure if he was there for me or Bucky.”

“You’ve never seem him before?” Steve asks. You shake your head, and he says, “Could you describe him a bit more detailed? I might be able to draw him.”

“Sure,” you shrug. “Or, we can just wait until he shows up at Bucky’s again and follow him.”

Bucky does not like that idea at all. He practically growls, grabbing your elbow and turning you to face him as he glares at you. Roughly, he says, “Are you fucking insane?”

“What?” Mildly annoyed, you tug your arm from Bucky’s grip and say, “If this was a case, that’s what I would do.”

“This isn’t a case. This guy is going to be a hell of a lot more dangerous than some rich businessman cheating on his wife,” Bucky says, voice raised to an almost shout in one of the quickest escalations you’ve ever seen.

A switch flips in your brain, and you see red.

“Thank you for the condescending analysis, Bucky,” you snap. You ignore Sam’s muttered ‘oh shit!’ for your own health and sanity. “But you have no idea the kind of people I’ve dealt with in my life. I can manage a fairly mediocre stalker.”

“A fairly mediocre stalker who works for someone who won’t hesitate to use your hamstrings as handcuffs,” Bucky hisses. He steps towards you, chest brushing yours as he breaths deep and ragged, and oh- there’s the Bucky you’d been missing. The guy who’s still wearing clothes stained with blood, most of it not his, angry in an incandescent kind of way which reminds you he could hurt you in many more ways than just a broken heart. He leans down to say into your face, “This isn’t something you fuck around with, alright? There’s a reason why I’ve kept this world from you.”

“I thought we said no secrets?” you say, raising your eyebrows. You will yourself to hold your ground, even if you are shaking like a leaf and your words come out soft in the face of his anger. Like you’d poked a pin in his chest, Bucky deflates. He backs off of you, face crumbling from anger to guilt as quickly as he built himself up there.

“I won’t let you get hurt because of me,” he says, shaking his head. The switch in your brain flips back, all indignation and pride fading away. He’s still trying to take care of you, just like he promised. Already it’s abundantly clear you’re not going to make that easy for him, and you wonder how long it will take until he gets sick of trying.

“This isn’t going to work if you don’t trust me,” you say, gesturing between you. “I let you into my world, now it’s your turn. I know it’s dangerous - I could have left, remember? But I’m here. So let me be here.”

“If someone touches you-“

“I’ll get over it,” you say. Bucky stares at you like you’re crazy, and maybe you are, but it’s true. “You said you were going to take care of me - how’re you gonna do that from all the way over there?”

You don’t mean the other side of the room, the valley of the pool table and the metaphorical arms-length which which he’s keeping between you. There’s only so much Bucky can hide from you before you either dive right in or walk away. This is the turning point.

“Fine,” he says. He looks physically pained as he scrubs a hand over his cropped hair, but at least he’s not angry anymore. “I still think thats a fucking stupid idea.”

“Like I said,” you say, offering him a smile he shakily returns, “stupid ideas are kind of my thing.”

“Uh, can I say something?” Sam asks, breaking the illusion that it was only the two of you in the room for that particular argument. You both turn to look at him, and he almost backs down with the weight of both your gaze. He carries on, however, saying, “I’m glad you guys have had this breakthrough in your relationship, but that doesn’t really help us in figuring out who this guy is. Or who he works for. Or why he followed you. Or how he knows where Bucky lives in the first place.”

“We could go around and ask,” Steve says, shrugging at Natasha’s eyeroll. “What? Baseball bats really jog people’s memories.”

“Why don’t we ask the private investigator for some expert advice,” Natasha says, giving you a look that seems to say men, right? You’re still trying to get your head around the image of Steve threatening someone with a baseball bat when you’ve seen him with his own puke on his jumper singing Sweet Caroline into a toilet bowl.

“Well,” you begin, darting Bucky a look but he seems to be listening and not getting ready to yell at you again, “since apparently following the guy is off the table for now, I would start with me and Bucky. Enemies, bad blood, someone with an axe to grind. Pull at some threads and see what happens.”

“That shouldn’t be hard,” Sam says, “Bucky’s got more enemies than friends.”

“So do we all, punk,” Bucky grumbles, glaring at Sam. “We’re in a gang.”

“This ain’t about me.” Sam holds his hands up in mock innocence, grinning big like he gets unrivalled joy from making Bucky’s face do the twitchy, dark thing it’s doing right now. The impact is somewhat lessened by the swollen, black eye Sam’s sporting from the mission gone wrong today, you assume, but it doesn’t curb his enthusiasm.

“I can put together a list of the most recent run-in’s you’ve had by tomorrow,” Natasha says to Bucky, ignoring the bickering with practiced ease. “Until then, we should put some protection on your building.”

“You guys have bodyguards?” you ask before your brain can tell you that’s a dumb fucking question. All three of them laugh, Bucky hooking an arm around your shoulder to ruffle your hair as he tugs you into his side. Point taken, you think as you pout under Bucky’s arm.

“I’ll stay in the spare room,” Steve says, swinging himself off the couch to his full, ginormous height. That image of him with the baseball bat starts to take a bit more shape in your mind, and you don’t doubt for a second he could offer some extra protection where the stalker is concerned. To you, he asks, “You don’t mind if I third wheel?”

“It’s not my apartment,” you say, attempting to hide your blush under the weight of Bucky’s arm. You are unsuccessful, if Sam’s smirk is anything to go by.

“We’ll survive one night, punk,” Bucky says, giving you a squeeze. “Or just buy some earplugs.”

“Gross!” Sam cries, flailing an arm around. “Too much information!”

You have a feeling akin to whiplash at how well these people are taking a stalker and potential threat on their lives. Joking around, Steve fake-moaning just to make Sam scream, Natasha laughing until tears form in her eyes at the antics of two grown men chasing each other around the couches like school children. Glancing up at Bucky and the warm look he’s giving them all, you suppose it must be lot less scary to face something like that with friends. Family, you think, as Sam crash-tackles Steve into the couch and smothers his face with a pillow.

“You’ll be alright?” Natasha’s soft voice manages to scare you, jolting under Bucky’s hold as you turn from watching Steve and Sam to find her right by Bucky’s other side. She’s looking up at him, lips pressed into a firm line, and you remember the last time you were here - James is the only family I have. Maybe some are taking this development a bit easier than others.

“Always am,” Bucky says, using his free arm to punch her lightly on the shoulder. She gets him back, much harder, and you feel Bucky wince away from her and into your side. “Serious, Natashenka. I’ll be fine.”

“Good,” she says. Smirking, she adds, “I’ll kill you if you aren’t.”

You look back to Steve and Sam before they can notice you eavesdropping, a hot, honey-thick feeling melting through your skin. You want to know what that feels like in a way which burns; to have people who have your back like that, and your dad doesn’t count because he literally has to. You understood Bucky’s gang even less than you originally thought - he’s not just a biker, a criminal, a hit man or an ex-army vet turned enforcer, whatever the case may be. He’s a guy doing what he has to do to protect the people he loves, because he’s surrounded by them. You’ve never had to protect anyone but yourself.

You tuck yourself closer into Bucky’s side, letting the warmth and smell of him consume you. That’s gonna change, you think. This feeling in your chest is telling you that change is already happening.

~~~

Steve does not have to get ear plugs to survive the night, and you make both him and Bucky coffee before you head off. Shower, new clothes, work - all that normal people stuff you have to do. Steve, golden in the morning sun with the brightest smile on his face, and Bucky’s moody scowl at the early hour and dark rings under his eyes, wave you goodbye. You kiss Bucky’s pout before you go, letting him grab your ass for a second before you slip away.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” he says, and Steve snorts like there’s some joke you’re missing.

“I’ll go out the laundry window,” you say, as if this is a new development and not your usual routine. “Nobody’s gonna follow me, promise.”

“Hmph,” is all Bucky says and then you’re really gone, racing down the stairs and out the window like you always do.

Sorry Bucky, you silently think towards his apartment as instead of making to cut through the gym parking lot, you wrap back around his building and scan the street from behind the bins. Sure enough, opposite Bucky’s building with a baseball cap on and another cigarette, stands the same dude who followed you the first time. You really weren’t lying - stupid ideas are kind of your thing.

You make sure you’re hidden by a group of pedestrians as you slip out the side alley of Bucky’s apartment building and walk away from your stalker. He doesn’t notice, and you manage to walk a block and cross the road without him any the wiser. Your roles have switched as you hang out at the news-agency a few doors down from where he’s waiting, pretending to flick through a magazine. It’s easy to take a few picture of him over the top of the page with your phone, grainy but useable for when you show Bucky later.

You can deal with Bucky being angry at you, because you know how to do your job and this is the most efficient way to get intel. It’s always easier to ask for forgiveness than permission.

Eventually, you watch your stalker watch Bucky and Steve leave his building. It’s 9AM and they head to their respective bikes, revving off down the street in the general direction of Steve’s tattoo shop. Your man hunches his shoulders and pulls out his phone, taps into it for a bit, before he walks off in the opposite direction to Bucky and Steve. Not following them, then. Your stomach twists as you fall into pace a few people behind him. Just following you.

He gets on the subway, which makes it very difficult for you to remain unnoticed but you manage to sit at the internal doors in the next carriage and watch him through those. He gets on his phone again, talking to someone with evident frustration if his clenched jaw and balled fist is anything to go by. He gets off in Manhattan, walks a few blocks, before ducking into a darkly lit bar called the Lerna. You decide it’s probably best not to follow him there, but you snap a few photos on your phone of the bar before doubling back out to Brooklyn.

You call Bucky as you go, a bit jittery at the incoming argument you know you’ve created, but you can’t help but feel it will be worth it. Now you have something to actually go off - a face, a name, some concrete facts. Much better than stabbing around in the dark. A few rings go by before Bucky picks up, saying, “Miss me already?”

“Get over yourself, tough guy,” you say, but you’re smiling. Maybe you do miss him already, just a bit. You were so focused on getting your information you didn’t get to fully savour Bucky this morning, all tanned muscles and tattoos, all yours. You force yourself to ruin the moment by saying, “I’ve got some information for you.”

“Me too,” he says, which surprises you. “Nat’s gotten together some potential candidates for your stalker. Have you got time to come to Steve’s tattoo place?”

“Sure,” you say, beginning to pick at your nails as the nerves set in.

There’s a beat of silence before Bucky must realise what you’d said before, and he doesn’t sound nearly as light and playful anymore “You said you had information? On what?”

“I’ll just show you when I get there,” you rush out, closing your eyes at the way Bucky sucks in a breath like he already knows what you’ve done. “Don’t be mad.”

“Oh, I’m not mad,” he says, as if through gritted teeth. “I’m fucking livid. Please tell me you didn’t follow that guy this morning.”

“Ok, I won’t tell you,” you say. “See you in twenty.”

“You’re dead meat,” he says before you hang up.

It could’ve gone worse, you muse as you round the corner to the subway station. Sure, Bucky threatened you with lethal violence and sounded even angrier than he’d gotten at the shop yesterday, but you can still imagine him smiling at his phone as you hung up the same way you’re smiling at yours now.

You text him the photos with a quick, Don’t say I never do anything for you xx

A minute after the photos deliver, Bucky is calling you again. You frown down at his caller ID, confused - you were on your way, why is he calling you back already? But before you answer that question, someone grabs your arm and tugs you away from the subway steps and into an alley instead. His grip is bruising, unbreakable, even as you scream and kick before he shoves a gun into your neck and you fall deathly silent.

“Scream and you’re dead,” the man says, hot on your ear. You can’t shudder away, his vice grip too tight and the cold steel on your jugular paralysing. You twist a bit to look behind you despite yourself, your stomach bottoming out at the familiar face which grins back at you. Baseball cap, brown hair, stubble - just like any other white guy. He sneers at you and says, “Not so clever now, huh?”

All you can hear, as your stalker marches you down the alley and into a waiting SUV with a gun to your back, is Bucky’s voice yelling this isn’t something you fuck around with. You’d let him say ‘I told you’ so a thousand times if it meant you got out of this alive. Hopefully, the phone tucked into your back pocket will be enough to save you. You hope Bucky is listening, the call you just managed to answer still catching the grunted conversation your kidnappers are having. You’ve never needed someone before, but god, do you hope Bucky’s got you now.

Part 6

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky x reader fic #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes fic #biker!bucky #biker au #avengers fic #marvel fic #reader insert #pov fic #bucky barnes #natasha romanoff #steve rogers #sam wilson #11 hours #bucky barnes x reader fic #biker!bucky fic

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puckyess · 4 years

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4 Times He Fake Proposed + 1 Time He Did For Real | Shay Donovan

Expect a double post this week! Hope everyone enjoys our Glue Guy! I’d love to know your favorite part, my inbox is open (& reblog pretty please!)

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Words: 7k

Free Drinks

“Shay, what do you mean you don’t have your wallet?” You asked incredulously, glancing at him as you pulled into a parking space at the restaurant. “I specifically asked you if I should bring my purse before we left”.

“Now we’re going to be late, again because we have to go back and get money or we’re going to have to ask one of the boys to cover us again. For being called mom and dad we sure don’t act like it”. You huff, laying out your options for him.

“Don’t even worry that pretty little head of yours, Y/N. I’ve got us covered”. The grin he wears spells trouble and you know you’re not going to like whatever he’s planning in his head, but you ask anyway.

“I don’t like that look you’re wearing. How exactly do you have us covered with no money? Are you going to wash dishes in the back to cover our meal?” You sarcastically ask.

“Nope” he says, popping the ‘p’ at the end and grabbing your hand. You think he’s being sweet at first but then he’s pulling your hand closer to his face and examining your fingers. He nods as if he’s found what he’s looking for and slides one of your rings off of your finger before placing a light kiss on that finger and hopping out of the car.

You’re quick after him. “Shay Donovan, what’re you doing with that? Give it back” but he’s already holding open the door, waiting on you.

“After you, my lady” he says with a sickeningly sweet smile on his face. You refuse to walk in, standing in the middle of the door until he answers you.

“Give me my ring, Shay” you demand with your hand out.

He shakes his head at you and pulls the door open further. You’re getting irritated and there’s another couple getting out of their car so you stomp your foot at him. “Damnit, Shay just give it back” you hiss. He pulls you close to him, moving you out of the way to let the couple through and gives them a charming smile as they thank him. You roll your eyes at him once they pass and poke his ribs maybe a little harder than necessary.

“Ow!” He exclaims, putting distance between the two of you again and rubbing his side.

You just give him a look that says “well? You deserved that” and wait for him to hand over the piece of jewelry that was in his pocket.

“Look I’m just gonna fake propose to you and then everyone will just buy our meal and drinks” he says with a casual shrug like he’s talking about what he’s going to order.

Your mouth falls open. That was his plan? “Shay!” You exclaim in disbelief. “You cannot be serious! That’s awful. You can’t do that!”

He nods “yes I can! It’s perfect, everyone will believe it and they’ll offer to treat us. It’s what you do”. How he knows that, you’re not sure. He’s probably right but you didn’t know how you felt about a fake proposal, especially when you wanted the real thing so bad you weren’t sure you could handle a fake one and in front of a restaurant full of people.

He could tell by the look on your face that you were mulling over his proposal. “Come on, it’s a good plan. It’s not like you have a better one” he says trying to persuade you.

“Yes, actually I do. I’ll just ask one of the guys to pay for us and I’ll Venmo them. Bold of you to assume I’d say yes by the way, what if I were to say no? bet ya didn’t think of that one now did ya bud?” You challenge.

This time his jaw drops and he’s stuttering, clearly thrown off his game. But he recovers just as quickly “well then I’d be the one getting free pity drinks and you‘d be getting booed out of the restaurant” he says as he holds the door open for you once more.

You glare as you walk past him, “No funny business Mr. Donovan. I’ll just ask your brother to cover us again”. But the ring was still in his possession so you should’ve known.

Despite not running back to your apartment for Shay’s wallet, you’re still the last ones to take a seat at your table. You barely sit down before the waiter is taking your drink orders.

“Rydes”, you sing song and bat your lashes.

He groans, “Let me guess, Shay conveniently forgot his wallet again?”

“I’ll pay you back” you promise him, giving his thigh a little squeeze.

“I’m telling mom to cut your allowance and give more to me. I end up buying for you guys all the time” he whines.

Shay rolls his eyes. “Very funny. Actually I have an announcement to make”, he says, clearing his throat.

Everyone’s eyebrows raise, especially your own. He actually looked nervous as he got out of his seat.

“Y/N, I knew you were the one from the very minute I laid eyes on you, cheering me on in a shoving match on the ice. You’ve been my biggest supporter since the night I accidentally on purpose spilled my drink on you to get your number and I can’t imagine my life without you by my side. So, Y/N,” he says dropping down on one knee, “will you marry me?”

Your mouth is on the floor, as is the rest of your table’s. Did he really just propose to you in a room full of strangers? After you had told him not to? Yet, here he was kneeling here in front of you, with your ring in his hand, held out to you. You had half a mind to say no, just to serve him right for subjecting to you this kind of embarrassment but when you saw the look in his eyes you melted. They were soft and filled with a twinkle of light that was reserved just for you. They were begging you to say yes and you wondered if maybe he meant what he said even though it was a fake proposal.

Your reaction was genuine as you nodded profusely and he quickly slid the ring back on your finger, this time on your left hand and picked you up, swinging you around in a circle. You buried your blushing cheeks into his chest as you said “I’m gonna kill you, Donovan”

He laughed as he set you back down, the biggest smile on his face and kissed you fiercely, a little less than appropriate for the amount of people watching. Everyone who was still cheering from the original proposal was now whistling and hooting and hollering for the two of you.

“So what’s everyone ordering” Shay asks as he re takes his seat at the table looking at everyone with a casual smirk on his face.

The boys’ eyes are still wide and there’s a split second of silence before everyone explodes with congratulations and questions.

Needless to say an Uber was necessary for the ride home. Shay’s plan worked accordingly and you had a dozen people offering to pay for your meal and rounds of drinks. The boys also bought a couple rounds to “celebrate” and for a minute it all felt too real.

Especially when Ryder came up next to you and told you that he knew all along you’d be the one to finally tie down his brother and to assure you that Shay was head over heels for you. “I’ve never seen a man as in love as my dad until you came around for Shay. I’m kind of annoyed he didn’t tell me first though” and you had to look away to not let Ryder see the tears starting to form in your eyes as you watched Shay laugh with Tarek. “And that look that you have right there, you’ve got it just as bad”.

You lay your head on Shay’s shoulder the minute you get into the car. He readjusts you so that your body is leaning against his chest and his arm is wrapped around you, holding you. He gives your head a small kiss and you let out a content sigh, playing with his fingers in the dark. “So when are we going to tell them it’s fake?” you mumble. you can feel him shrug beneath you.

“I don’t know. It’s kind of fun being engaged” and even though you know he’s playing around you’d be lying if you said you didn’t agree.

“It is, isn’t it?” You ask tilting your head back so he can see the smile tugging at your lips as the lights pass by.

“One of these days it’ll be for real” he says in the quiet, giving you a squeeze. You can hear the promise behind it and you bring his hand that’s holding yours up to your lips, kissing the place where his engagement band will be. It’s a soft moment and you relish in it.

Finally though he breaks the silence. “I knew you’d say yes” and you don’t have to see his face to know there’s a big old smirk on those kissable lips of his.

Drunk Shay

“Are you sure you don’t mind me going out with the boys tonight? Because I can totally stay in and we can get pizza and watch a movie and do face masks” he offers.

You laugh at his almost request and assure him that it’s okay. “While I appreciate your offer, you should go with the boys. I know they miss you and I love you, but there’s things I need to get done tonight and I can’t do that with you here. You’re a little needy” you tease him.

“Fineeee”, he drags out in a pout. You love that he sounds disappointed that he can’t stay here with you. If you didn’t really have things you needed to finish for work you would’ve given into his puppy dog eyes but you held strong and all but shoved him out the door when Ryder came by to fetch him from you.

“I’ll have him home by curfew, mom!” He called to you with a wave.

“All in one piece preferably” you told him before shutting the door.

A few hours and a handful of snaps later, there’s a knock at your door and you know it’s your boyfriend delivery. One of the many things you loved about Shay was his dedication and how that applied to every area of his life. He lived by the phrase “go big or go home” , drinking included. While he was careful when he was out with you to make sure you were safe, he was wild when you weren’t there to be his tether.

You already had the water getting ready to boil on the stove for his Mac and cheese. “It’s tradition to end every good night with Mac and cheese, I’m telling you” he’d say every time.

“He’s all yours” Ryder says gruffly, trying to make his brother walk through the door. Shay is practically hanging on his brother and Dylan and even though they’re as big as they are, you can imagine his dead weight is pretty heavy.

“Have a good time, baby?” You ask with a smirk.

At hearing your voice his head lifts and a goofy smile takes over his face. He stumbles toward you and Ryder and Dylan both have their arms outstretched to catch him if he falls in the small space between them and you. It was like watching a two year old make their way from dad to mom. He makes it though and wraps you up in a bone crushing hug, forgetting for a second that you were half his size.

Remembering your question he sticks out his lip. “No I did not have fun. No one would kiss me or sit in my lap like you do”

You giggle at your whiny boyfriend. “Well I would hope not”

Dylan rolls his eyes at Shay’s clinginess. “Seriously though, if I had a dollar for every time he asked me to ‘just kiss his cheek’ I could’ve paid my tab”

You fake shock at this news as you turn to Shay, “you tried cheating on me?”

His eyes blow wide. “No no no, not at all I just wanted some kisses and Dylan was right there so, so , so” he stutters trying to defend himself. “You’re trying to get me in trouble” he says pointing at Dylan.

“I can’t take this anymore” Ryder says running his hands down his face. “I did my part, he’s in one piece.. kind of. Now he’s yours to babysit. Goodnight Y/N”

Dylan gives you one last look as if to make sure you don’t need him to stay too but is silently begging you to release him and you give him a little wave to send him on his way, leaving you with Shay who has wandered toward the pot on the stove.

You shake your head at the man who seemingly couldn’t go a night without you. He wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms around you and give you sloppy kisses on the cheek and you have to keep gently shoving him back from the stove. When he nearly makes you drop the pot on your way to the sink you banish him to the stool until it’s ready. He pouts at first but begins rambling on about his night while you stir in the ingredients.

When you set the bowl in front of him he shovels it into his mouth and is so amazed. He always says it’s the best Mac and Cheese of his life which you find hilarious because it’s literally Kraft dinner. After finishing almost the whole box except for the little bit that you steal he just wants you in his arms to settle in for the night.

He watches you change for bed and it’s like he forgets that you sleep in one of his old hockey shirts. He sees you and his lips form a little “o” and you swear you see his pupils blow even from across the room.

“Damn, baby. You look so good? And you’re mine?” And he lets out a low whistle.

“Come on, Shay. We’ve been over this” You laugh but blush at the same time because the look he’s giving you is one of pure awe and it warms you to the core.

He pulls the covers back for you and pulls you close once you finally crawl in bed. He lets out a soft sigh.

“I can’t wait to do this every night. It’s like a sleepover with my favorite person except you have to come out too next time” he tells you.

“Favorite person, huh? Don’t let Ryder hear you say that” you poke at him but his statement warms your heart.

“Well his favorite person is Clara so I’m allowed to have my favorite person and it’s you. I love you the most” he says matter of factly.

You laugh, knowing he’s probably right but you try to explain that family should be loved more than you and he gets real quiet, which is uncharacteristic for him.

“But you are family”, he says honestly. And now it’s your turn to go silent.

“I mean, my mom always asks how you are when she calls, my family loves you, everyone knows I’m going to propose to you. I wouldn't feel right if you weren’t a Donovan”.

He always talks about marriage on nights like these. And every time it hits you that you truly want nothing more than to spend your life with this man, making him Mac and cheese in the wee hours of the night and watching him be surprised every time you wear one of his shirts.

“I can’t wait for that day” you tell him.

“Well I can do it right now, I’m ready” he says, sitting up in bed and then trying to move to a kneeling position but he’s still drunk enough that his sense of balance is off and he’s face planting into the mattress.

“I have a speech” he mumbles into the sheets and you’re laughing at his efforts as he tries once again to kneel for you.

“I’ve been in-“ he starts to lean again, “fuck it, I’m in love with you and I want to spend forever with you that’s all that matters. Will you marry me?” he says as he finally topples over and off the bed.

“Shay sweetie, I love you too but I can’t accept a drunk proposal” you tell him through giggles, helping him back into his spot in bed.

Once he’s settled back in bed he agrees that he can do better. “It’s gonna be so good. I’ve already got it all planned out, Ryder thinks you’re going to love it. I hope you do”.

For the second time that night, you’re silent. ”I have no doubt that I will”, and you mean it with all of your heart. He spends a few more minutes talking about your wedding, how beautiful you’re going to look in your dress, how he’s sure he’s going to cry when he sees you for the first time in it. He’s so soft and heartfelt and much more serious than earlier.

Until he isn’t, when he dozes off in the middle of telling you that he wants his dog to be the ring bearer.

In a Fight

“I don’t get why you’re mad at me?” you say as you follow your pissed off boyfriend into your apartment. You had just been out at the bar with some friends when Shay abruptly decided he wanted to be at home and hadn’t spoken a word to you since. You were growing more and more frustrated by the second, especially with your question being met with silence.

“Damnit, Shay. What’s your problem tonight, huh?” you finally break and throw your purse on the counter.

“What’s my problem?” he asks spinning toward you, his face flushed. “You’ve got to be kidding me right now”

“Would I be asking if I didn’t already know?” you throw back at him.

He shakes his head, a disgusted look on his face. “Maybe this will jog your memory. ‘We’re just having fun. I don’t love him like I used to and I don’t know how long this thing will actually last’” he mimics, “Way to make a guy feel confident and secure in his relationship”.

His words take you back to your conversation at the bar with a friend. Taken out of context, you admit they did sound bad. You hadn’t realized he was listening in on your conversation as he had seemingly been preoccupied with his boys at the time.

She had asked how things were with Shay, how serious you thought it was. Her question scared you to death. You were having fun, some of the best fun you’ve ever had in your whole life. But it wasn’t “just fun”. You had gone into it all thinking you would just see what happened but with every kiss and every new memory made with him, you fell more and more in love with the man. And you didn’t know how long it would last. Sure, he told you forever, but he still had three whole years of college to get through and you had already had your fair share of little bumps in the road. It came with dating a big time college athlete, but it wasn’t part of any normal relationship and who were you to bank on forever. You weren’t the same person and didn’t want the same things when you left college that you did when you entered and you were afraid that the same would happen with Shay and you would be one of those things he grew out of.

“Shay-” you start, but he cuts you off.

“I don't know what more I have to do to show you I want this, us. I thought we were on the same page, but after your comments tonight I’m not so sure. ‘Just having fun’, Y/N, really? And ‘this thing’? The way you’re talking you’re making it sound like this is some fling and you don’t want it to last!” he’s angrily throwing his hands around and raising his voice with every word. He’d never raised his voice at you before. His brother? Sure. His teammates? Sure, but never you.

And then suddenly his voice drops so low, you don’t even know that you hear him right, when he asks “Is that what you want? For this to not last?”

Your eyes go wide as you realize what he’s insinuating. “What? No, Shay. I want this. I just, I don't know” you groan trying to find the right words to say.

Your words or lack thereof do nothing to reassure him. “So what’re you saying? ‘You want this, but-’ what’s the but, Y/N? You want this now, but if I got down on one knee in this kitchen and asked you to marry me right now, you’d say no? I need to know if I’m in this alone, here”

His face was pained, but honest as he got down on one knee just to prove his point.

Even though you couldn’t come up with the right words to explain what you were feeling, the only words that made their way through your lips were “I want this forever”.

You watched as relief washed over his face and probably yours as well. You went over to where he was still on one knee and took a seat on his lap looping your arms around his neck and looked deep into his eyes. There was still something in those brown eyes of his that worried you.

“But you said you don’t love me the same anymore” he says and his voice is sad and vulnerable.

“No, no , no, baby. There’s so much I have to explain” you sigh. “I’m having so much fun with you, Shay. I meant that but it’s not all just light flirty banter anymore, somethings changed...into more. So no, I don’t love you like I used to. It’s a different kind of feeling now, from the way your lips kiss me to the way your hand fits in mine. It’s better, stronger the longer I’m with you and grows every single day. And well, you just promised forever but things change, Shay. Just because I want forever doesn’t mean that at the end of all this you will too”

He listens intently but shakes his head at the end. “Y/N I’m promising forever because I mean it. Yeah, things change but me wanting you isn’t going to, no matter if it’s me crushing on the hot girl next door in the stands or planning a future with my future wife, I’m always going to want you”.

He sees your eyes watering and you chewing on your lip and lifts his hand to your chin, taking his thumb to pull your lip from between your teeth. Then he guides your lips toward his and puts some proof behind his words.

When he finally breaks away, breathless he pats your butt, “Alright, hun you’ve gotta get up. I’m too old for this, my knee can’t take this floor anymore”.

TikTok

“Babe, come here a second!” You hear your boyfriend call for you.

“Shay does it have to be now? I’m in the middle of something” you call back to him from your computer. You had a deadline to meet and Shay had been a minor distraction the whole day so you locked yourself in your room and left him to his own devices until you finished.

“It’ll just take a second” he promised.

You sigh as you move your laptop off your lap and onto the bed, grabbing your water as you pad your way over to him.

“C’mere” he says beckoning with his fingers to you. Like almost every other time he’s done that, you go to him. He gets down on his knees and pulls you down so that you’re mirroring him. “Ok now put your right knee up like this and touch mine” he says patting his leg

“Seriously Shay, I was busy” you whine, but do as you’re told.

“Okay now switch knees” he instructs. You roll your eyes but again, oblige.

“Okayyy, one more time. Put your right knee up” he says as he put his right knee up.

“Shay what is this about. I have to get my work done.”

“We’re almost done, just stand up”.

You take a big swig of your water as you stand up waiting for his next move. You don’t expect him to stay on one knee and dig into his pocket and pull out a black box.

When he looks at you with a full smile you nearly choke on your water, spitting it out and leaning over slightly to try and pull him up.

He’s dying laughing at your reaction and he tries his proposal again even though you’re still coughing.

“Y/N, you’ve brought so much light into my world and given me so many laughs like this one,” he tries but he can’t continue because he’s laughing so hard at you.

You’re still coughing and you look panicked with wide eyes and he just can’t believe how well you reacted. He looks over at his phone to make sure it’s still recording. You watch as he does so and put two and two together.

“It’s for a TikTok babe, you can relax. I’m glad that wasn’t real though, I never expected a rejection that harsh” he laughs as he tries to rub your back.

“I can’t believe you! That wasn’t funny” you say, annoyed. “You pulled me from work to fake propose for a TikTok? Unbelievable”. You grab your water bottle and turn to stomp back to your room. Was it a little bit of an overreaction? Maybe, but you had shit to get done and he was using your time to make tiktoks so you were a little annoyed. And he fake proposed again, on top of it all.

“Hey, hey, hey. It was just a joke, Y/N” he rushes to make sure you’re not really mad at him

“Well, I’ve got a deadline to meet, Shay!” you said with your back to him. His long legs makes the few short steps to be in front of you.

“Something tells me that’s not what this is about?”

Damn him for being able to read you so well. His eyes are searching your face for any indication of where he screwed up.

“With this being like the fourth time you've proposed, but not for real I’m just starting to think you don’t take that very seriously. And well, I do and it kind of hurts that you don’t” Your words tumble out, finally getting the weight off your chest.

He reacts instantly to your words, his arms reaching for you to bring you into his chest. He’s stroking your hair and you can hear his heart beat fast as he says, “oh no, honey I promise you I’m serious about marrying you. You know me, I’m not a serious guy, but I swear to you if there’s one I’m serious about, it’s putting a ring on your finger and making you a Donovan. Not today, because obviously that didn’t work out”, he chuckles, “but I promise you, you’re getting that ring for real”.

You look up at him with a little smile, forgiving him easily with this new promise. “Pinky promise?” you ask, holding out your pinky.

He gives you a soft smile in return and locks his pinky with yours, bringing your pinkies up to his lips to seal the deal with a kiss. “Pinky Promise”.

“Are you sure this is enough? I could probably make it bigger?” Shay asks turning to Ryder.

His brother shakes his head. “Dude, she’s going to love this. This is so her, just relax. Everything’s perfect”, he tries to reassure his brother.

Shay chews on his nonexistent thumbnail as he examines his list for the tenth time that day, making sure everything was in place. You were flying in later that day, thinking you were going on a girls date before the start of your second River Bandit Cup. You had loved the tournament so much last year, it was the perfect excuse for him to lure you out to Duluth even though you’d come anytime he asked.

“So mom, Clara, and Nessa are picking her up at 3, they should be there now actually and they’re going to go get their nails done or whatever and you and Boden have to help me get things ready here” Shay reminds him again.

“And what time are her family and friends coming in? You’re going to have to remind dad to go pick them up or he’ll forget” Ryder points out.

Shay looks up from his phone with a glare. “He better not forget or I’ll kill him. I’m on a very tight schedule here, everyone has to do their part or it’s going to be a disaster” he stresses.

“What’s going to be a disaster?” Vanessa asks as she walks in the room.

Shay’s eyes pop out of his head as he looks at his sister. “What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be at the airport right now! Where are mom and Clara? Who’s picking Y/N up?!” He practically yells as he jumps out of his seat.

“Someone’s a little on edge today” she tsks, “relax, I’m just meeting them at the nail place because the baker called and needed the cake picked up earlier than planned and I figured you’d have your hands full here. So it’s in the fridge in the garage, I do have to leave now though”.

“You’re going to be fine, everything is going to be perfect” she says, patting her little brother on the shoulder. “Good luck!” She calls over her shoulder as she closes the door.

Shay spent the next few hours running around, directing his brothers until there was absolutely nothing left for him to do but worry. He called to check all of the food was correct and ready to be delivered on time, made sure he had the right champagne, arranged the lights out back just so, sprayed the ODR with a fresh layer, reached out to everyone to make sure they knew where to be and at what time, placed and double checked the cameras and even ironed his damn clothes.

Ryder and Boden sat on Shay’s bed and watched as he stood in front of his mirror opening and closing the little box in his hand, trying to rehearse his speech and not lose his mind while he waited for the sound of car tires.

“You can do this, Shay. She loves you, you love her. Nothing to worry about. You can do this” he says like a mantra. He didn’t know why he was so nervous. He was a confident guy and he was 100% positive he wanted to marry you and he knew you wanted the same. This should be the easiest thing in the world and yet the anxiety and butterflies he felt were tenfold worse than any he had ever felt before any game.

His brothers echo his self hype and promise him there’s nothing more he can do to show how much he loves you and you obviously love him. Their pep talk is interrupted by the sound of people entering the house.

—

Hours later after lunch and a nail appointment, you’re finally in the car on your way to the person you desperately wanted to see. While you loved Shay's family just as much as your own, you were anxious to get to your boyfriend. You had weirdly barely heard from him all day, only a few texts double checking your flight time, making sure you landed safely and what nail color you’d picked out.

As you pulled into his drive, your brow furrowed. You had expected to come home to a driveway full of cars from his friends, like last year. Checking your phone, it was already 6oclock. Everyone should definitely be here by now. “Where is everybody?” You question.

Clara and his mom both shrug, little smiles on their faces as the car slows to a stop. Shay’s waiting for you on the porch, a smile on his face and your skates in his hands. He looks as handsome as ever under the porch lights in black jeans that hug his long legs and a grey knit, the same one he was wearing when you first met, you note. A smile graces your face at the thought.

“Well hello handsome”, you call out to him. “You look too nice to be bringing me home that River Bandit Cup”.

You grip onto his arms and raise up onto your tip toes signaling what you wanted from him. You melt when he gives into you and don’t even notice his mom and sister sneaking around to the backyard.

“Change of plans”, he says setting you down on the bench by the door and pats his leg.

You throw him a confused look. “What do you mean? You’ve been planning this for months now?”

He shakes his head, smiling to himself. If only you knew, he’d been planning this, not that for months.

Your leg is across his now and he’s taking off your boots, replacing them with skates. His tongue pokes out of the side of his mouth as his fingers expertly tie your skate. He pushes your leg off and picks the other one up to do the same, staying silent. Your boyfriend was never silent.

“Earth to Shay. What’s going on with you today?” You ask, running your fingers through his hair.

“Is there gel in your hair?” You ask with a confused smile on your face when you pull your hand away. You begged him to put gel in his hair, knowing it would help his curly hair look extra dashing but he refused, only allowing it on game day.

“Maybe”. He says quickly and stands up after finishing up on your skate. Without warning his arm hooks under your legs and he’s picking you up bridal style. You’re giggling as you hook your arms around his neck and hold on tight.

Finally your boyfriend is back as he throws his back laughing, soaking up the sound of your squeals and giggles. “Close your eyes and no peeking” he instructs you.

“What?” You ask him, but follow his command blindly, closing your eyes. You trusted him, even after all these times when he’s made tiktoks and played tricks, you knew your trust in him was well placed.

“Just do it. I have a surprise for you” and you could sense a change in his voice, there was a hint of nervousness.

“Something better than the RBC?” You teased.

He laughs. “I sure hope it’s much better than the RBC”.

“I don’t knowww...I really enjoyed drinking out of that cup last year”

“You’ll still get your cup, but tonight I have something else to give you” he tells you and now there was a hint of excitement to his words.

You can tell you’ve reached the ice in his backyard by the change in his movements as he glides and the crisp sound of his blade cutting into what sounds like fresh ice.

Your curiosity was killing you as you practically begged him to let you open your eyes.

“Okay, now you can open them” he says, holding onto you as your blades hit the ice.

You blink a few times as your eyes adjust to the lights. You look around you as Shay takes your hand, skating you both in little circles so that you can see the whole rink.

There are little candles all around the perimeter of the ice and twinkle lights draped along the fence and club house, creating a soft golden light. Rose petals lay scattered near the candles along with polaroids of you and Shay, dating all the way back to when you’d first met. The thumping in your chest intensified as you took it all in.

“Shay” you breathed. You wanted to look at him but you couldn’t tear your eyes away from each new picture.

There was one from the first game you had nervously waited in the hallway for him, one from the night he kissed you in front of the team to announce your relationship, one from your weekend getaway, and one of your personal favorites, one from the night you had to take him to the hospital because he bet that he could last longer on the mechanical bull than you and ended up throwing out his shoulder … and losing the bet. There was one from your first Christmas together, your first Valentine’s Day together. One of you across the table from him and one of him pretending to be studious at the library even though you know he was watching Netflix. He’s somehow managed to document every little moment of your relationship from the big firsts to unexpected candids. And in each one, no matter who is in the picture they look unbelievably happy.

“Do you like it?” He asks, when all you've said is his name.

“I - I have no words. Yes, of course I love it! What is all this though?” You search your brain trying to remember today’s date and whether or not it was important. You had been so focused on getting to see Shay this weekend that you had barely thought about anything else.

“Oh god, it isn’t our anniversary is it? What’s today’s date?” You asked him, flustered.

He laughed as he skated you back to the center of the ice, where one last picture was waiting for you. He picked it up but didn’t give it to you quite yet.

“Y/N, I’ve spent months trying to craft the perfect speech and I think I’ve come pretty close but no words will ever be able to describe what I feel for you, how much I love you. I knew you were the one from the very second I laid eyes on you in the crowd cheering me on in that shoving match against UMD. I told the whole locker room that night that I’d be marrying the girl in the third row. i looked everywhere for you after that game and low and behold you showed up at the same bar and I did the first thing I could think of and threw my drink on you” he laughs at himself.

“I knew that wasn’t an accident!” You exclaimed.

He shakes his head, “no it definitely was not. I panicked and just threw ice water all over you and then blamed Ryder for pushing me. I still got your number though” he says with a wink and then clears his throat to make himself get back on track.

“You’ve been my biggest supporter through every up and down. You’ve been there to celebrate every small victory like getting cleared to play again and passing my stats class and you’ve held me during my darkest days when I doubted myself and was so lost I didn’t know if I would ever be myself again. But you helped me through that and were my brightest light. You’ve encouraged me and cheered me on. You’ve made me want to be better and challenge myself to grow, not just for myself but for you” his hands are shaking slightly as he takes both of yours, the picture still in his hand.

“You’ve given me so many laughs, so many memories, so much love and I want to do the same for you. I want to be by your side for the highs and lows and tackle life with you, forever and a day. I want to look forward to coming home to you every night and eat Mac and cheese at 3 in the morning and lose my mind every time I see you in my stolen shirts. I want it all with you and I want you to finally have my last name because well, you have everything else of mine, my heart included. So,” he hands you the last Polaroid as he gets down on his left knee. It’s a picture of a diamond ring.

“Y/f/n y/m/n y/l/n, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife? Will you marry me?” He asks, holding out a small box with a real diamond ring out to you.

You had passed the point of ugly crying long ago. His words were so filled with love you couldn’t contain the tears. Your freshly manicured hands were covering your mouth trying to hold in the emotions that were pouring out from you. You were nodding your head so fast, not even having to think about the answer to that question for a second.

“Yes?” He asks with a beaming smile just to clarify.

“Yes!” You practically shout.

You’re in his arms in the blink of an eye, skates fully off the ice. He’s twirling you around in circles and telling you how much he loves you when you hear cheering from all around the edge of the rink.

He sets you down and you see both of your families and friends lined up, cheering for the newly engaged couple. You start crying again and hold onto Shay a little tighter, if that was even possible.

“Thank you so much for this. You’ve outdone yourself, Shay. The perfect proposal”

He grins down at you and kisses the top of your head. “Better than the RBC?”

“Much better than the RBC.”

#shay donovan #ryder donovan #dylan holloway #shaydono #mine #my writing

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