Biker!Bucky x Femme Reader
Back at your beloved late grandmother's home to pack up her house, you have a run-in with the town's biker gang 'The Howling Commandos' and find yourself entangled with the metal armed President.
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No specific warnings in this one (apart from Biker!Bucky of course). Some brief references to grief. Sorry it's on the shorter side, just need to set up our story. Thanks to all who have liked/commented, it means a lot!
You sipped your drink as you told Bucky all about granny and moving into her house. He nodded solemnly as he leaned on the bar and listened intently, the depth of his attention surprising you. You didn't expect him to be so easy to talk to. Behind you, Wanda and Vis were very obviously pretending to be chatting, while clearly eavesdropping on your conversation.
"Oh yeah, she was a nice lady. I'm sorry for your loss," Bucky told you with sincerity after you'd finish the whole tale. "She was a tough old gal".
"Uh, thanks," you replied quietly, not realising until now what an emotional gut punch it still was to talk about her. "And yeah...she was".
You cleared your throat and changed the subject. You cocked an eyebrow and looked at him curiously.
"So...what's your deal?"
He grinned, "What'd you mean?"
"You know," you pointed to his kutte, "all this. You're one of the top guys, I guess? I'm sorry, I don't really know the lingo..."
"I'm the President" he smirked and pointed to one of his patches, clearly a little amused by your ignorance.
You peered over at the fabric square. "Mm. So, what, you drive around town on your bikes causing mayhem and throwing darts at women's butts?"
"Something like that, yeah," he laughed. "But mostly we're here, or at the auto shop across town".
"Busy, busy" you teased. "I'm sure its all legitimate and above board..."
He winked. God, what a dangerous wink. You instinctively knew that wink had ruined lives.
You both exchanged a small smile.
"You're not afraid of me, huh?" Bucky teased.
"Should I be?" you boldly shot back.
He grinned. "No. But a lot of people are".
"Well...your aesthetics aren't super warm and fuzzy".
"No...guess not".
You continued to sip your drink as you tried to fight off the nagging voice telling you to back off. God only knows what he gets up to when he's not at the bar or fixing cars or at whatever other business fronts they had. You didn't need another dangerous, no-good man in your life...You were only supposed to sort the house out, live quietly for a little while and then leave. Not get embroiled with the locals, and certainly not with the President of a probably criminal motorcycle club...
...and yet...
"So...you working while you're staying here?" he asked curiously.
"Mm. Maybe. I have some savings. And thankfully the mortgage at my grandmother's place is paid off, so at least that's one less thing. But I might get something part time to keep the lights on".
Bucky smirked and held his arm up to the bar behind you. "Work here".
You laughed. "What? Yeah, good one..."
"I'm serious. You need extra cash. We apparently need some help here after you tore my poor bartender apart. So why not? Sounds like you have some experience..."
"I do yeah...but..."
"But what?" he asked, a hint of interrogation in his voice.
"Well, I was thinking more like a coffee shop or delivering pamphlets or something. Not working nights with drunks..."
"Oh, but we're friendly drunks. Plus, the regulars tip well," he pushed. "You can spend the days working on the house and then do a few evenings here until you move on. It's perfect".
You frowned. It was pretty perfect, actually. You thought about protesting, but as you looked back at Bucky's expression you immediately understood that this was someone who was very used to getting his own way.
"You're not gonna drop this, are you?" you asked.
"Nope" he responded, popping the 'p' and shaking his head.
You sighed, chewing your lip with hesitation.
"Will your club mind? I mean...they don't know me. All they know is I yelled at one of them".
"Eh. Everyone yells at Parker", he shrugged. "You'll fit right in".
You frowned, then looked back at him suspiciously.
"But...Why are you doing this? You barely know me. I might be a serial killer for all you know..."
He chuckled. "Well, I've met a lot of bad guys in my time, Sugar, and trust me, you get pretty good at figuring people out. Plus, I get it, grief is tough, and your grandmother lived here all her life and was a big part of the community. And you're her family. We do look out for one another here; this is our home after all".
You blinked in surprise, not expecting that answer. Your sceptical side half believed he just wanted to get in your pants, but he sounded sincere regardless.
You looked over at his group who were laughing and drinking jovially, then across the room at the wide range of clientele. You'd certainly had worked at worse places.
Sighing, you turned back to Bucky. "Well...fine. Let's do it. But I'm not wearing booty shorts or anything ridiculous for a uniform".
This coaxed a belly laugh from him. "No...only the male bartenders wear those," he quipped. "Jeans and tees are fine. Maybe a flannel if you really wanna mix it up".
You nodded. "Okay, I can do that".
He smiled back at you sweetly, but a hint of something edgier lay beneath. The way he eyed you made you feel...exposed. Like you were a doe caught in the crosshairs. It wasn't unpleasant, no, in fact it made your lower belly surge, sending a wave of butterflies through you.
"Welcome aboard, Sugar" he grinned.
You smiled back, once again knowing full well you were treading into dangerous territory...but unable to stop yourself.
