#chosen family au | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

rookthorne · 1 year

Text

⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ 𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐧 𝐅𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲

Christmas was a time for family — for being grateful. It just so happened that your family were the biggest bunch of misfits and black sheep, but you wouldn’t have them any other way.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 ✰ Biker!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 ✰ 6.3k

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 ✰ Tooth rotting fluff, implied smut, alcohol consumption, references to past entries (violence), flashbacks, slight angst (it's only one flashback)

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔 ✰ It is finally Christmas, folks! To those who celebrate, and to those that don't, I hope you have a beautiful day with whoever you chose to spend it with, regardless of the occasion. ✰ Thank you for all the love and continued support on this event, it's one of the best gifts I could have ever gotten.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕 ✰ Merry Fuckin’ Christmas — Masterlist

𝑶𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒘𝒆𝒍𝒇𝒕𝒉 𝒅𝒂𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝑪𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒎𝒂𝒔, 𝒎𝒚 𝒇𝒂𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒚 𝒈𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒎𝒆; 𝒂 𝒑𝒂𝒈𝒆𝒂𝒏𝒕, 𝒂 𝒓𝒆𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒆𝒓, 𝒕𝒘𝒐 𝑪𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒎𝒂𝒔 𝒕𝒓𝒆𝒆𝒔, 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒆𝒆 𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓𝒃𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅 𝒉𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒔, 𝒇𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒄𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒆 𝒄𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒔, 𝒇𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒎𝒎𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑷𝒊𝒙𝒊𝒆 𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒔, 𝒔𝒊𝒙 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒄𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔, 𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏 𝒔𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒕𝒔, 𝒆𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝒉𝒆𝒍𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒔, 𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒆 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔, 𝒕𝒆𝒏 𝑪𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒎𝒂𝒔 𝒄𝒐𝒄𝒌𝒕𝒂𝒊𝒍𝒔, 𝒆𝒍𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏 𝒓𝒊𝒃𝒃𝒐𝒏𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒃𝒐𝒘𝒔, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒘𝒆𝒍𝒗𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒆 𝒋𝒐𝒍𝒍𝒚…

𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐁𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

The day had arrived, it was finally here. You weren’t sure whether to cry or scream with excitement as soon as you awoke at the crack of dawn once again.

Christmas - you couldn’t believe it. It would be the first one you had spent with your new family, and you spent weeks organising and setting it all up; the past twelve days had been a whirlwind of festivities and excitement. There was not a single moment you could pick as a favourite, because they were all at the top of your list.

The rays of the rising sun illuminated the bedroom, a yellow glow casted into the shadows and you shifted until you lay on your side, facing Bucky’s silhouette with a fond smile. This man - this gorgeous, dangerous, and oh so lovable man - had stolen your heart this year. He had pulled the rug from underneath your feet with that first ride on his Indian, that day at the Marvel Cafe; but he had never let you fall, nor stumble.

Bucky had been the one constant in your life for what felt like forever. Sure, it hadn’t always been flowers and daisies, but even when the times turned turbulent with violence and blood, he had sheltered you and shielded you as best he could. There never once was a hair harmed on your head.

It had been a miracle that that was a fact. Becoming a Queen in an outlaw’s world was a deadly title, breaking even the strongest women down and making them fall to their knees under the weight of the crown. But no, you never faltered. The crown never slipped from how high you held your head. The crown never shifted from its place when you carried your King; bearing his weight when he wasn’t strong enough to stand on his own with his crooked crown.

Being a Queen demanded strength, courage, and a backbone like no other.

And you had risen to the challenge and exceeded all expectations with a ferocity never before seen.

There were times when Bucky saw you through, too. The times when you felt the world would end as you knew it, all of what you had made for yourself in this life to be over. When Bucky had held you in that waiting room in the hospital as the cries of grief filled the air; when you had fallen so dangerously ill that Bucky had taken you to the hospital despite what you wanted, and ended up saving your life; when Bucky had soothed your fears at being abandoned after breaking his only rule.

You were partners. And partners held one another, helped one another, and in this case, loved one another; so much so it was almost overwhelming.

“I love you, so much,” you whispered into the still morning air, the breathy sound not disturbing Bucky as he slept. You lay there for a few moments, still, silent, just savouring the moment; wondering what might have been, and what might be.

Bucky awoke with a snuffle and a wide yawn. “Mornin’, baby,” he rasped, and you smiled.

“Morning, my love.” A loud pop echoed from your shoulder when you stretched, and Bucky winced. “‘M fine,” you mumbled. Bucky’s stubble was rough on your palm when you cupped his cheek, his gaze never leaving yours.

“Merry fuckin’ Christmas, my Queen,” he whispered.

You sighed happily and sidled closer, your forehead coming to rest against his chest where it was the warmest. “Merry fucking Christmas, my King.” Bucky held you close, not in a hurry to greet the big day when he could spend the morning in bed with you, but alas, you had other ideas. “Breakfast?”

Bucky yawned again, nodding slightly before he moved to sit up. “What’re we havin’?”

“Bacon, and eggs, and pancakes,” you looked at him as he stretched his arms above his head, just admiring the planes of his body when he caught your gaze.

“I could always be your breakfast, doll,” Bucky said impishly.

You rolled your eyes and stood from the bed, wrapping yourself in a fluffy robe as you headed towards the kitchen. “You wish, Barnes.”

Breakfast passed without a hitch, but that’s when the real flurry began. Today, you were hosting Christmas lunch - everyone was coming to your home and would arrive within the next six hours, and you could only thank your lucky stars that you had said to each of them to bring a plate of food at least. It would save you meandering and fussing over the small dishes; a small mercy.

Bucky had excused himself to wash up once he finished his overloaded plate, and that left you to your own devices in the kitchen; a standoff between the giant turkey, and your fierce determination to not be bested by poultry.

It was a fight for the ages. One of which Bucky walked in on, freshly showered and too good looking for his own good, and stood in absolute awe. “Babe.” You looked up at the sound of his voice, strained by the fact he was holding back laughter at your predicament. “Do you want some help?”

“No,” you huffed, shifting to the side so you could get better leverage. “I got this; can you start on the potatoes?”

“All right,” Bucky said, dubious over your level of control. You’d show him. “Want me to do the other vegetables too?”

You nodded and powered on while Bucky tackled the mountain of vegetables - his efficiency with a knife as he peeled them made you widen your eyes on more than one occasion. Before long, the vegetables were sorted into trays and ready to be roasted, and the turkey was being tackled by the two of you, as a team, you insisted.

“I think it’s good to go now,” Bucky said, nodding his approval when he stepped back from the accursed fowl. “It’s as good as it’s gonna get, anyway.”

“I haven’t done this since I was a kid,” you sighed. “I would have to agree.”

With Bucky’s help, you manoeuvred the giant turkey into the oven to begin cooking, while the vegetables went into the oven below. “Who knew two ovens would be used, huh?” You mused, setting the timers on both.

Bucky laughed and placed the oven mitts on the counter. “Especially with your cookin’.” You whipped the towel in your hands at his knees and he yelped. “Behave!”

“Stop being an asshole then,” you called over your shoulder while you padded into the dining room, ignoring Bucky’s grumbling as he came to a stop behind you. “We’ll start with the table cloth first, that way we won’t dirty the table with any glitter,” you instructed, pointing at the small boxes stacked by the table and Bucky nodded in agreement. “Let’s go!”

The two of you got to work. With the beautiful burgundy red tablecloth covering the table, you hung garlands of holly from cornice to cornice, and Bucky tackled the indoor lights you had wanted by the curtains. Small decorations lay amongst the organised chaos on the table, mapped around by where the dishes of food would sit.

“Are we goin’ overboard?” Bucky asked suddenly, stepping back to check that the lights he had just hung were even. The tone in his voice gave way to a memory that demanded your focus.

It had been a bad day where nothing had gone your way and you were close to tears. You wanted to go home, you wanted to curl up in bed and sleep the funk off - you knew if you didn’t at least do something that your demons would rear their ugly heads, and Bucky needn’t deal with that.

But fate wanted to have a laugh, your expense was humorous. When you pulled into your driveway, you saw Bucky’s black and gold Indian parked by the garage door. You sighed heavily and after locking up, you headed inside to face the inevitable - better now than later, you thought.

The door swung open with a loud creak and Bucky appeared in the hallway, his hair damp from a shower. “Hey, sweetheart, welcome home,” he greeted, smiling at you as though you hung the moon in the night sky. You smiled, but you felt it not meeting your eyes as it normally would upon seeing him, and Bucky noticed. He paused and put his hands on your shoulders. “What’s wrong?”

“Just a bad day, babe,” you whispered, looking down at your feet. He was having none of that, however. You felt his hand move to your jaw to tilt your head up so he could search your face; scrutinise your fracturing armour with the intent to comfort.

“Tell me,” Bucky whispered. The command was the final crack in your facade.

Your eyes welled up with the suppressed tears, a few tracking down your cheeks before you could stop them. “What if they don’t like me, Buck?” The waver of your voice made you frustrated and you scowled.

“‘They’, baby? Who’s ‘they’?”

“Steve, Peter-” Bucky cut you off by pulling you against his chest, holding you with such strength you could feel the rampant demons in your mind quieten and slink back in defeat.

“They love you, sweetheart, they do,” Bucky said, rocking you soothingly while running a hand up and down your back, the other cradling your head to his chest. “I promise.”

You sobbed brokenly and Bucky sighed. “I’ve got you, baby, I’ve got you.”

You looked over and blinked at him owlishly. Didn’t he get it?

“Bucky, it’s our first Christmas,” you stepped down the small ladder and moved to stand in front of him, carefully watching his expression. “I want it to be perfect, you guys are my family and this is one way I know how to say thank you, besides,” you paused, muling over your next words carefully and ignoring the way your heart began to beat faster against your ribs, the tightness in your throat. “Christmas is a time to be grateful for what you have, and I wanna show them, and you, just how grateful I am.”

And there it was, what you had imagined. Bucky, ever stoic and battle-hardened, began to tear up as you spoke, your admission the crack in the dam. “Oh, sweetheart,” he breathed, his voice shaking slightly.

Bucky pulled you against his chest, his grip tight enough to both hold you together and ground you at once. “Let’s make it a good one then, yeah?” He asked, and you nodded, the burn in your throat from unshed tears ebbing away.

A few hours later, the dining room was fully decorated and looking every bit as Christmas-y as it possibly could be with reds and greens, golds and whites. It was a dream come true, and you said so when Bucky pulled you into another hug, holding you to his side while he admired the spectacle of the room. “Shines up nice, doesn’t it?” He breathed.

“Yeah, you do.” Bucky ruffled your hair for the comment, and he headed to the kitchen to check on the food.

“You better get changed,” Bucky pointed to the clock when you rounded the counter, and you gasped. You’d lost track of time. “They’ll be here soon.”

“I’ll be back!” You yelled while jogging down the hall. It was a relief your outfit had already been picked the other day, for which Bucky was very proud of - given his sense of style consisted of plaid shirts or Henleys paired with jeans and leather jackets. You had to give him credit too, he had picked a simple but cute outfit; classy, but still comfortable to host in.

And if there were any accidents with spilt wine, you at least had your own ugly Christmas sweater to match Bucky’s.

Suddenly, as you stared into your wardrobe, you were struck with a memory.

It was the beginning of winter when you had finally coerced Bucky into visiting the shops lining the main street of town. The stores in question were promoting their winter lines of clothing; jackets, jumpers, sweaters, boots, you name it, and with it being your first winter in the small town, you were woefully underprepared for just how damn cold it would be.

“Bucky, please!” You laughed, pulling him along behind you while he pouted and whined. “It won’t take long, I promise.”

“Fine,” he conceded, falling in step beside you as you neared a display rack of puffer jackets. “And then we can go home and warm up.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you muttered distractedly, looking through a rack of colourful puffer jackets, and completely missing the smirk he threw at your obliviousness. “Ah!” You cried, pulling out a dark red jacket, the hood lined with a black fluffy material you couldn’t feel through the barrier of your gloves. It looked soft at least. “This’ll be perfect for you, Buck!”

Bucky just stared at you, his eyebrows furrowing into a hard line. “No,” he said.

“Yes,” you insisted, unzipping it and forcing it over his shoulders - to his credit, he didn’t put up much of a fight. “It’ll keep you warm.” You stood back after you zipped it up and flipped the hood up to cover his snow-mussed hair.

The sight was comical.

You burst into a fit of laughter the longer you stared - Bucky was covered from his head to his knees in the burgundy fabric, the stiffness of the cut didn’t allow for much movement in his arms so they sat slightly raised from his sides, and he had the world’s most exaggerated pout on his lips.

Your phone camera couldn’t have caught it quick enough before Bucky shucked it off with a groan. It was for posterity, of course, he was the President of a club after all.

“Babe?”

You started. Bucky was staring at you from the doorway, a slight smile on his lips when he saw you were in fact dressed, but you were holding his sweater and fiddling with it distractedly as you remembered. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m okay-” You blanched, your stomach knotting itself over and over with nerves. “Are they here?”

“No,” Bucky assured, leaning against the doorframe. “Jus’ came to check on you, you were takin’ a while, is all.”

You stood and walked over to him, and he held out his arms in an offer of a hug. “Love you, Buck,” you mumbled into his chest, squeezing him tightly.

“Not as much as I love you, sweetheart,” Bucky kissed the top of your head and guided you out of the room. “Now let’s do the finishin’ touches.”

An hour later, you sat on the couch, your knee bouncing in a nervous tic while Bucky organised the plates and cutlery, when the rumbling sound of bikes came from the street. “Buck! They’re here,” you rushed as you stood to look out the window to see Peter and Sam pull into the driveway on their bikes, while Steve drove Nat’s car and parked behind them.

“Let ‘em in!” Bucky called from the kitchen, the clink of cutlery against plates backing his request.

Another vision struck you as you strode to the door, giving you pause.

The clock showed it was five in the afternoon when the doorbell rang. A gentleman, punctual, and good looking? What more could the universe throw at me, you wondered. Bucky, after many attempts to bribe you that were all met with uncertainty, had finally hollered cheerfully when you finally let him pick you up and take you out on a date.

That date was tonight, five on the dot.

You opened the door slowly and the sight that awaited you took your breath away. While you had only seen Bucky in his casual dress, tonight he had gone the extra mile with a pair of black jeans, plain white v-neck shirt, and a worn but neat blazer. Forget good looking, he was downright fucking sexy. “Wow,” you managed, unable to gather the wit to say something half decent and complementary.

Bucky grinned, offering a bouquet of flowers that more or less made your heart skip a beat. “Not too bad yourself, sweetheart,” he said, his gaze roving over your figure. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

It was your first date, and arguably the best one you had ever been on.

A knock on the door pulled you from your reverie and you plastered a big smile on your face - your family will walk through that door, just as Bucky did all those months ago, and they were here to stay.

“Sweets!” Peter cried as you opened the door, the containers of food in his arms balanced precariously as he leant over to meet you halfway for a hug.

“Hey, Pete,” you pointed towards the kitchen, “Bucky’s working away in there, take the food on through!” He did so and you turned to greet Sam, who was already cheerfully smiling.

“Hey, Sweets,” he said happily, bringing you in for a side hug before he strode inside to follow Peter.

Then Nat appeared, looking just as excited as you felt, for once. “Hey!” She pulled you into a hug and rubbed your back, squeezing one last time before pulling back to take the containers from Steve and following Peter and Sam.

“How’re you doin’, darlin’?” Steve asked, hugging you tightly. “Been lookin’ forward to this the whole time.”

“I’m great, Stevie,” you smiled up at him, and he grinned back. “Come in, come in.”

You followed Steve back into the house when you caught sight of Peter in the hallway, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet - he looked like he was going to jump out of his skin in his excitement. It reminded you of the first time you had met him.

The smallest, and youngest member of Bucky’s club had captured your interest the most. It wasn’t from a romantic stand point - Bucky had your heart after all - but Peter, he had been introduced as, was a literal ball of energy with so much enthusiasm that if Bucky ordered him to jump, he would do so only after asking how high.

His sheer level of excitable energy was a lot to take in, but you felt drawn to him - an uncharacteristic maternal urge overtaking you before you could stop it.

“Hello, Peter,” you greeted, shaking his hand. “It’s good to meet you.”

“You too!” Peter rushed, letting go of your hand and gesturing wildly. “Buck-” He stopped suddenly and eyed Bucky, who had turned to talk to Sam, apprehensively. “Boss, h-he’s been telling us all about you, it’s just so great to finally meet you!”

And as it turns out, time didn’t change his level of enthusiasm. That in itself, was a blessing.

“Sweets!” Peter gushed when he caught sight of you. “Can we do presents first?”

Bucky peered around the corner of the kitchen and nodded once before disappearing again. “We can,” you said, gesturing to the living room. “Take a seat and we can all open them, okay?”

If Peter wasn’t a fully grown man, you could have sworn he was a child. His excitement was palpable in the air and you couldn’t help but feel bolstered in your own eagerness. “Everyone, presents,” you called, taking a seat next to Peter while the others filtered in. Bucky sat beside you on the couch and threw an arm over your shoulder.

The exchange of presents went over with minimal cursing, although there were balls of wrapping paper thrown in retaliation for gag gifts - but everyone loved the thoughtfulness of yours, having taken into consideration everything, down to the insignificant details you had heard (or more accurately, overheard) in your decision for each member of your family.

Bucky was especially enamoured with his gift. It was a model of an Indian, identical down to the smallest detail and the absolute shock and jubilation in his expression was worth every penny spent.

“You okay, babe?”

Bucky jolted, having not heard you approach. “Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, and you frowned. “Jus’ thinkin’, is all.”

“That’s dangerous.”

“Ha, ha,” Bucky deadpanned.

You moved to stand next to him, offering another cup of coffee that he gratefully accepted. “Do you want to tell me what that pretty head of yours was thinking about?”

Bucky only narrowed his eyes in contempt, and you giggled. “I was thinkin’ of my dad,” he explained. “He used to collect model cars and bikes.”

You knew where this was going and you steeled yourself, talking of his father was always painful for him. “Yeah, you’ve mentioned it before.”

“Anyway,” he continued, a faraway look in his eyes. “I’ve always wanted my own, y’know, of my bike. He would have loved it.”

Fighting valiantly against the cry of triumph that built in your chest, you soothed him until he was smiling again, ever oblivious to your plan.

When it came time to open your present, Bucky had taken a leaf from Peter’s book - trembling slightly with apprehension, but most of all, excitement. You noticed this as he handed you a box, the shape very, very familiar. “I knew you were lying,” you giggled, and Bucky just poked his tongue out in retaliation.

The wrapping paper came away easily to reveal a plain box, nondescript and completely void of clues.

“Jus’ open it, doll,” Bucky urged, and you rolled your eyes.

You lifted the lid of the box, peered inside, and the world came to a stop. Your breath caught and you stared, transfixed.

A frame, a beautiful ebony black with gold finishings, held a photo you had never seen before. It was from that fateful day when Bucky had first introduced you to his family as his girlfriend. The party that had transpired was one for the ages, and you knew Nat was taking photos, insisting that she wanted to start scrapbooking again.

You stared at your own photographed smile, breathtaking and blinding, the love and adoration in your gaze as you looked at Bucky while he smiled for the camera - it was too much. “Oh my god,” you whispered, your hand moved to cover your mouth to quieten the sob.

Bucky moved beside you and placed a kiss to your temple, holding you close in your state of shock. “Merry Christmas, sweetheart.”

The frame was placed gently back down into the box, and then the box onto the coffee table. “You okay, Sweets?” Nat asked.

In lieu of an answer, you launched yourself into Bucky’s embrace, colliding against his chest and he let out a quiet, “oof!”

Bucky held you tightly while the others made soft noises of awe. “I love it so much, Bucky, oh my god,” you breathed, clutching at his shirt while you wept. You felt his chest rumble with quiet laughter and he continued to hold you, grounding you against the wave of emotions that threatened to pull you under.

Never in your life had you received such a gift so heartfelt and personal. You almost felt like this was all a dream and you pinched yourself subtly just to make sure - but you weren’t dreaming. Bucky had just listened to you, more than you realised.

You stared at the empty wall in your living room with your hands on your hips, a multitude of plans and ideas fighting to be heard at the sight of a blank canvas.

“What’re you up to, baby?” Bucky asked, coming to stand next to you, oblivious to the turmoil. “You stare any harder at that wall and it’ll crumble.”

“I want to do something,” you trailed off, letting his jab go unacknowledged just this once. You had a mission to focus on. “But I can’t decide.”

“Well,” Bucky sighed, taking a seat on the arm of the recliner. “Do you have any ideas?”

“I’d love to make a picture wall, y’know, like those ones on Pinterest or something.”

Bucky looked at you, his brows furrowed in confusion. “Pinterest?”

“That’s an explanation for another day,” you mumbled, and Bucky huffed a laugh. “But it’s where people hang frames and frames of pictures; family, friends, pets, etcetera, and it fills the empty space. It makes it a home.”

You missed the cunning smile on Bucky’s lips as you turned back to the wall - for once, you were the oblivious one.

With the sound of grumbling bellies, you sat up in Bucky’s lap and declared it to be time for lunch. The table was full to the brim with food, and surrounded on all sides by family; Bucky sat at the head of the table while you sat to his right, Peter was next to you and Sam was at the other end, and Steve sat opposite you, next to Nat.

It triggered another memory, seeing everyone gathered around the table with eager hands and excited conversation.

As an idea to introduce you to the wilder side, Bucky thought it would be a good start to host a cookout, just with him and the club and when the two of you arrived, food in hand, you had been swarmed by the guys and Nat while they gushed about how excited they were.

The meal itself was much calmer compared to the frenzy of your arrival, adding in the drinking game that Peter had foolishly challenged Nat to, it turned out down right hysterical.

“Peter, you’ll regret it,” Steve cautioned, staring at Nat as he spoke as though he could dissuade the redhead from the challenge.

“No I won’t,” Peter insisted. He walked towards the bar and Nat followed. The pressure around your waist made you look over at Bucky, his arrogant smirk only fuelling your trepidation.

“Is he going to be okay?” You whispered, leaning into Bucky’s hold while he chuckled quietly.

“Absolutely not.”

Battling a Russian in a drinking game would have never ended well, no matter who it was, but it was especially unfortunate that it was Peter; he was holed up in the bathroom for hours while Nat cheerily downed another five shots in his absence, nonplussed at how her blood was essentially pure vodka at that point.

The chatter at the table reached a dull roar and it pulled you to your senses, and you cleared your throat loudly. It fell silent while everyone turned their attention to you. “I think we better dig in, guys,” you announced, gesturing at the spread of food heaped on the table. “We can do speeches later.”

No one needed to be told twice.

Plates were filled to the brim and cleared just as quick, and glasses of wine and soda knocked back like shots. A quiet hum of indiscernible talk filled the gaps between the clinking of cutlery while many of them went back for seconds, and before long, everyone sat back in their seats, slouching and sleepy from a belly full of food.

Bucky stirred next to you while you tidied your plate, preparing to take them into the kitchen when he placed a ring-adorned hand on your arm. “Wait a minute, doll,” he whispered and then he got to his feet.

A hush naturally fell over the table when Bucky cleared his throat, and he met everyone’s gaze, one by one, until he looked at you.

“First off,” Bucky began, smiling softly at you before he glanced at the glass in his hand. You turned in your seat and stared, your attention entirely focused on him. “I wanna thank you all for coming into my girl’s home today, you all know how much it means to her, to me.” A murmured ascent went around the table and Peter placed a hand on your shoulder. You placed your hand over his and smiled.

“This year has been one hell of a curveball, both on us and as a club,” Bucky continued, furrowing his brows in thought. “We’ve had deals go south, many close calls, not to fuckin’ mention there’s been times when I came close to losin’ my shit.” Quiet laughter followed the confession and Bucky grinned sheepishly.

“What I’m tryin’ to say, I guess,” Bucky hesitated, and you reached a hand out to hold his free one to give it a reassuring squeeze. He smiled down at you and kept hold of your hand while he continued. “I wouldn’t be sayin’ this shit if Sweets hadn’t come into our lives, for starters,” you giggled at his admission - he was always a softie, just deep, deep down. “But for a man that used to have nothin’, and now I have everythin’ I could have asked for, I’m grateful. It hasn’t always been easy, I’ve fought for what I’ve got every step of the way, but this year made me realise just how fuckin’ lucky I am.”

As Bucky spoke, he kept his head down. But when he finally looked up, his normally bright eyes were misted over and stormy, shining in the light of the room with unshed tears.

The room was silent, but not of tension or bitterness - it was as though they were hanging on every word he spoke, unsure if what they were hearing was real. Bucky had always been the master of stoicity, an unreadable force that was violent in its unpredictability. Though, you knew. You knew exactly just what Bucky was going to say next and you felt that your heart would seize once the words were uttered.

A wolf was always stronger with a pack, and what a pack it was.

You watched as Bucky stormed into the clubhouse, his expression murderous in its hatred, its fury. “Church!” He barked, making Peter jump to his feet beside you, while the others strode into the room. Peter met your eyes briefly before the door closed with a thud.

An hour later and after many muffled shouts, Bucky was the first through the door and while he didn’t look any calmer, he looked collected - a cold, calculating rage that turned your stomach to ice. “Nat,” Bucky said sharply, and her head popped up from behind the bar, a brow raised. “Watch out for her.”

“You got it,” Nat replied, abandoning her mindless cleaning to come sit next to you, your puzzle suddenly the most interesting thing in the room.

Bucky glanced at you, blew a kiss, and stalked out the door. The boys followed, some holding shotguns, others glocks. It was terrifying, but at the sight, you finally understood.

This brotherhood was a pack of wolves - when one was threatened, may whatever god they believed in watch over whoever dared threaten them. No one could hide from the devil, not for long.

“My family is everything to me,” Bucky said, bringing you back to the present, his voice strained with such intense emotion that was mirrored by everyone in the room. “And I love my family, more than anythin’,” he looked at you as he said it, and the dam broke.

“Buck,” you breathed as he sniffled, and you stood up to embrace him, he let you hold him tight while soft voices made their agreement heard.

“We love you, Buck,” Steve said while Nat nodded, a soft, adoring smile upon her face.

“You’re the best, Boss,” Peter agreed, his own eyes misty with unshed tears.

Sam cleared his throat, his expression carefully clear. “We’ll always have our differences, Bucky, but we’re always gonna be family, ain’t no friends in this house.”

Everyone chuckled and you let go of Bucky, guiding him to his seat while he wiped his eyes. “I knew you had heart in there, Buck,” you teasingly whispered, just loud enough for him to hear and he laughed quietly.

It was late when Bucky finally came to bed, following you along like a lost puppy and looking so out of place. You knew it would be hard, especially the first night, but you hadn’t expected it to be this difficult to get him settled in.

“You ready for bed, baby?” You asked quietly, pulling free a set of pyjamas from your closet. The small mumble in reply was as good as you’d get, you thought, and you changed while he stripped his shirt off and sat up against the headboard.

Following suit, you sidled up to him and wrapped your arms around his middle, while one of his came over your shoulder, the other rested atop yours across his stomach. “Wanna watch a movie,” you fumbled for the remote on the bedside table when you felt Bucky nod stiffly. “You’re all right, handsome,” you whispered. It broke your heart that he felt so on edge, but he had wanted this - you couldn’t refuse him.

The movie started and the two of you shifted down the bed so you were laying down, your head on his chest.

“I love you.”

Bucky froze. His body coiled in preparation to tear from the room for fear of rejection, but the admission only made your heart soar. You were floating - Bucky loved you, just like you loved him.

“I love you, too,” you muttered, and you felt the tension in his body bleed away. You knew he had a heart, and here he was, exposing it for you to hold.

And you would hold it, treasure it, as though it was priceless - because it was.

You watched as Steve clapped Bucky on the shoulder, the others looking at him with adoration and reverence - a true leader, one who wasn’t afraid to show the cracks in his armour.

“Okay, since Buck has started it off, it’s only fair that I go next,” you said, and all of their attention turned to you. With a deep breath, you grounded yourself for what was to come.

“I never knew, sitting on the back of Bucky’s bike that day, that my life would change.”

It was silent. Their rapt attention honing in on your words just as they did for Bucky, but you caught Nat’s slight smirk.

“I remember being terrified to sit on Bucky’s bike.” There were smirks and snorts of laughter at your own confession, and you couldn’t help crack a smile. “I hated Carol even more, for being right in the end, mostly. When Bucky asked me to put my arms around him, I could have died then and there,” Bucky laughed and grinned, that adorable nose scrunch made your heart skip a beat. “But, I never, ever, regretted it.”

The Marvel Cafe was a low hive of activity thankfully, and you made your way inside to find Carol. It had been about a week since you had sat behind Bucky on his Indian and he had taken you away, stealing your heart in the process, and you were determined to give Carol a piece of your mind.

You may not have ever appreciated having a wing woman, especially while being so shy, but you had a feeling that Carol had changed your life. The woman deserved some gratitude, at least.

“Is Carol in?” You asked the barista, searching for your friend in the dissipating crowd. The lunch rush was finally ending, you guessed.

“She’s out back,” the barista answered before turning on her heel to stick her head through the open door just behind her station. “Carol, someone’s here for you!”

Carol spontaneously appeared, and her grin was full of smug satisfaction. “Well? How are things?” She directed you to a table and gestured for you to take a seat and you delved into the specifics; how it had been, how you had grown close with Bucky in such a short time, how you enjoyed hanging out and spending time with the club.

“You were right,” you hummed. Carol raised a brow, a smirk growing on her lips. “About him not being as bad. He’s a good man.”

“You’re welcome,” she quipped, her smirk morphing into a wide smile, full of affection and a not-so-hidden jab of ‘I told you so’.

A beat of silence passed where you gathered more courage, before you continued.

“I remember when you took me to a ‘bike meet’,” you pointedly stared at Bucky, but he didn’t look at all abashed for his white lie. Cheeky bastard, you thought. “We ran into that other club, their President and someone else, I think. It was the first time that I had been nervous. But,” you hesitated, the little nugget of information you were about to share exposed you. “I couldn’t help but feel the thrill, I was for sure scared something would happen - it was volatile enough.”

“I knew I was safe, though,” you continued. “I knew nothing would happen to me. And I guess that’s just how it’s been since.” At your admission, Bucky smiled softly. “If I hadn’t jumped on the back of Bucky’s bike all those months ago,” your voice wavered and the tightness in your throat returned, when Nat put her hand up.

“Just a minute, Sweets,” Nat said, reaching for the glasses and the bottle of whiskey that Sam had brought. “I feel like we need a drink for this.”

You laughed and nodded. “I think we do too.”

Nat handed out the glasses, everyone holding theirs as their attention turned to you once more.

“If I hadn’t been foolishly brave,” you continued, determined to force the words of gratitude out - they had to know, they had to know just how important they all were. How important Bucky was. “I would never have gotten the family I have today. A family, full of black sheep and misfits, that would drop everything for one another with no questions asked.”

You sniffled as a tear ran down your cheek. Bucky held your hand tightly, his thumb rubbing over your knuckles soothingly.

“Thank you for everything.” Everyone smiled as you met their gazes, not a single set of eyes dry. “Thank you for being part of me, because I would be lost without the lot of you,” you looked at Bucky, meeting his eyes and staring into his soul, just as you always did. “I would be lost, if it wasn’t for you.”

“To Sweets!” Steve said suddenly, his eyes shining in the light. Everyone’s glasses raised in solidarity, including Bucky’s.

You grabbed your glass again, and raised it. “No,” you said, smiling. “To family.”

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐚𝐨𝟑 ⠄⠂⠁

⠈⠂⠄𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ⠄⠂⠁

#bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky x f!reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #biker!bucky #biker au #Brotherhood & Bullets #B&B #Chosen Family #rookthorne's works

157 notes · View notes