Something Sweet - Bucky Barnes x Reader

Chapter Two: Something New

Chapter Warnings: Mentions of death, implied previous abusive relationship, reader doubting herself, mentions of Bucky's past as TWS and anxiety. As always, if I miss any triggers, let me know.

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The next morning, Y/N lays in bed, thinking over everything that's happened in her life until now. Only a few months ago, the idea of being here, an actual business owner was unbelievable, some kind of distant fantasy. Things like this, your life changing forever in such a brief space of time usually only happens in the movies, never to ordinary people like her. But yet, here she is, living proof that miracles do happen. Although honestly, sometimes Y/N is still waiting to wake up, to open her eyes one morning and be back home, her new life nothing more than a dream.

Yet, Y/N would be lying if she said that part of her didn't wish for that, or that she did just sell the shop. Of course, she wants nothing more than to continue her aunt's dream and build her legacy... she just doesn't know if she can do it. No matter how much she tries, she can't escape the little voice of doubt in her head, the one that has a name, and the pit in her stomach that always forms whenever the voice returns. By this point, she's convinced it's going to stick with her forever.

"I wish you were still here." She mumbles sadly, staring at the picture of her and her aunt together, proudly displayed on her bedside table. Y/N registers a tear rolling down her cheek, but she doesn't wipe it away... or the ones that follow it. "You always knew what to do, and had the right words to say. I just wish I listened."

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Later on, emerging from under the covers after spending most of the morning crying, Y/N decides to bake something in an attempt to clear her head and feel a little better. Throughout her life, the good and the bad, baking has always brought Y/N a sense of peace and happiness, an escape from everything going on in her life. It was hers and her aunt's favourite activity, something for them both to share. Her aunt always used to tell her that whenever she was upset, baking was a good remedy. She said it was because it helped you use all of your pain to make something new, and something good.

Now that her aunt's gone, Y/N needs that advice more than ever.

As Y/N stirs the cookie mixture in the bowl, humming a tune to herself as she does, her thoughts go back to Bucky. It's nice to have someone like him so close by that she can depend on. She just hopes that she doesn't lose him too, like what seems to happen with a lot of people in her life. Either that or they turn out to be assholes. But Bucky doesn't seem like that. He's been nothing but kind and welcoming to her. Yet, they usually start out kind before revealing their true colours. And Y/N knows that better than anyone. "No. Bucky wouldn't do that. He couldn't. He can't." Y/N buries that thought as deep as it will go, refusing to let it consume her. As she does, another thought enters her mind. A happier, calmer one.

Maybe she should give the cookies to Bucky. He deserves something to say thanks after all the help he's given her so far, and for at least being her only friend in New York. "God, that sounds so pathetic. Besides, is he even really a friend, or just a neighbour?" ...Or maybe he could just be a taste tester.

Once the cookies are done, Y/N wipes at her eyes, ensuring there's no evidence of her crying only hours ago. There's no way she's going to open that can of worms with Bucky yet, let alone so early in the morning. She even takes a moment to check her hair and puts on a little lip gloss, just so she looks semi-presentable, instead of looking like she's just spent a few hours crying in her bed. Then, Y/N heads along the hallway to Bucky's apartment, knocking on his door. When he opens the door, Bucky leans against the doorframe, smiling at her. He's wearing a black shirt, one that is clearly a few sizes too small, given how tightly it clings to his chest. His arm muscles bulge out, the veins prominently displayed. Y/N's breath hitches in her throat. God, he's gorgeous. As her eyes go lower, tracing down Bucky's form, all Bucky can think is just how glad he is that he actually wore a shirt to bed last night. God knows what would've happened to either of them if Bucky appeared shirtless.