Summary: You and Bucky Barnes have been friends for years, you are deeply, completely in love with the super soldier, but he sees you as nothing more than a little sister, what happens when Bucky starts to date in earnest?
Pairings: Bucky x Reader, Bucky x OFC
Warnings: Smut, Angst, Self-Esteem issues, Depression?, Anxiety.
You wish he would see you, just once, but you were firmly in the friendzone. It was frustrating, and painful to know that you would never be more than just his friend. You were one of the guys. It didn’t matter how feminine you dressed, or how much makeup you wore, he would never see you.
“Mornin’, Krasivaya,” Bucky murmurs, slinging an arm around you as he escorts you to the kitchen for breakfast. “How’d ya sleep?” he inquires, the smile he graces you with melting your insides to a puddle of goo.
“Good, B. You?” you reply.
He smiles wickedly. “Didn’t get much sleep to be honest.”
You glance at him worriedly. “Nightmares? Why didnt F.R.I.D.A.Y wake me?”
He laughs in earnest. “Nah, baby girl, you’ll see.”
Furrowing your brows, confused at his upbeat demeanour, you enter the kitchen. The entire Avengers team is deep in the throws of breakfast. It’s loud and obnoxious, incoherent yelling and bickering morphing into a jovial atmosphere that has you smiling. You spot a flicker of blonde next to Steve, and Bucky disengages from you, beelining straight to the unfamiliar face.
Confused, you follow only to freeze in place when Bucky wraps his arms around the blonde, nuzzling into her neck, murmuring sweet nothings that leaves an acidic taste in your mouth.
What fresh hell?
“Melissa, this is (Y/N). She’s like my sister. (Y/N), this is my best girl Melissa.” He smiles at you, big and wide, and so happy.
Pain blooms in your chest and you suddenly can’t breathe. Hands curling into fists at your sides, you chance a glance at Steve. His smile is jovial, but his eyes show the truth. He’s well aware how much this is hurting you, but he plays his part as Bucky’s best friend.. Eyes flickering to Nat, she dips her head in silent support. She’s always thought Bucky an idiot for not seeing what was right in front of him.
Bracing yourself, you plaster on a fake smile. “Melissa, it’s wonderful to meet you,” you greet, some how managing to make it actually sound like the truth, even as you bleed from the hole in your heart.
She eyes you warily, before plastering an equally fake. “(Y/N), I’ve heard so much about you! I finally get to put a face to the name.”
She beams while you try and swallow the bile rising in your throat. You falter, your mind coming up blank. You can’t form words, can’t think past Bucky looking so hopelessly in love with this golden goddess.
Steve, thankfully comes to your rescue.
“You ready for training, doll?”
Bucky frowns. “She hasn’t even eaten yet, punk. Can’t you give her a five minutes?”
Your heart breaks a little more at the concern he directs toward you.
“Nah, Bucky. It’s fine. I’m not all that hungry, and Stevie and I have plans. Don’t need to throw up on him when he lands a punch to the middle.” You pat your belly. Training with Steve it wasn’t a matter of if he caught you, but when making the excuse for your lack of appetite one that had heads nodding all around the table. All except the most important one.
Bucky’s frown deepens. “We were supposed to hang out…” he trails off, the confused puppy eyes making you bite your lip to keep from caving. Then she speaks, making you hate her more.
“Leave them alone, babe.” Melissa eyes him coldly. Bucky relents, confused by the direction his impromptu introduction to his girlfriend has taken.
“I wanna join, Sestra,” Nat remarks. “With a little more practice, we can keep you from getting hit in the belly.”
You nod, sending her a grateful smile for playing along, and gather what remains of your wits. Steve rises from his chair, grabbing you by the waist, and tucks you beneath his shoulder, trying his best to lend comfort.
“We’ll meet ya in the gym, Nat. (Y/N) an I have things to discuss first,” Steve says, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.
Bucky’s expression momentarily flickers at the sudden affection Steve is showering you with. His eyes harden with warning, a soft growl leaving his chest that he tries to cover with a cough.
Ignoring him completely, you let yourself be steered toward your bedroom, numb to the going ons around you. This couldn’t be happening. You knew you weren’t Bucky’s type. You were by no means as beautiful as Melissa. You didn’t have long legs and boobs for days.
You were plain. A little quirky. You had an unhealthy addiction to cupcakes, meaning your hips had a little extra on them. You were soft in a few places where, sure you kind of wished you weren’t, but it had never really bothered you before.
But seeing Melissa on Bucky’s arm, they fit. Two beautiful people. They belonged together. Still, couldn’t someone have warned you? Instead you’d been blindsided, hurting you that much more.
A soft sob escapes your throat, and Steve picks up his pace, throwing open the door to your bedroom and ushering you inside. He slams the door shut and pulls you into his chest, stroking your hair as you breakdown. The anguish of being overlooked, again, comes out in waves. You’re shaking, clutching at Steve’s shirt, while he makes shushing noises.
“Why am I never good enough, Stevie? Why can’t he see me?” you ask, your tears wetting his too tight t-shirt.
Steve doesn’t answer, he doesn’t know what to say. How to explain that you were the best kind of person, and there was no one better. He settles instead on trying his best to calm you down. Every bitter sob that escapes you drives a nail deeper into his heart. Tracing soothing circles onto your arms as you slowly come down from your hysteria, he asks, “Wanna skip training? Have a movie day with Nat and I?”
You hiccup, and shake your head yes.
He smiles brightly, grabbing his phone from his pocket, sending a quick text to Natasha. He leads you toward the bed, burritoing you gently into the blanket. Hooking up the laptop to the T.V, something you taught him because, let’s face it, Steve was electronically impuissant. He flicks to True Blood, your favorite show, and settles himself next to you. Picking up your cosily burritoed form and depositing you on his chest, his comforting presence briefly chases away the ache in your heart.
A tentative knock on the door and a “Sestra” reveals Nat, laden with all sorts of junk food. Wicked smile on her face, she bounds over to you, and Steve, throwing a packet of Oreos at you. “Let the pig out begin!” she yells dramatically, making you giggle. Grabbing your hand, she squeezes briefly, Steve strokes your hair.
For the briefest moment you almost believe that everything will be okay.
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