#ellie’s 2K spooky challenge

[pellucid-constellations]

The Bogeyman and Other Monstrosities

Pairing: Biker!Bucky x Reader

Summary: As the local biker club president, Bucky Barnes had a reputation for being tougher than nails and feared by many—he’d never be caught dead at a halloween street fair. Too bad his best girl always got what she wanted.

Word count: 2k

Warnings: References to sexual themes, biker!bucky trying to intimidate a child lmao, fluff

a/n: I’ve had this in my drafts foreverrr waiting for halloween! This is my submission for @lokithealligator​‘s 2k spooky writing challenge using a biker au and the prompt “Come on, aren’t you excited to see the little kids trick or treating?”. Congrats Ellie!! 🧡

You can follow my library blog @pellucid-library​​​​ for fic update notifications 🤍

Divider by @firefly-graphics​ <3

Masterlist

“Come on, baby, isn’t there anything else you wanna do?” 

Bucky watched as you flitted about the bedroom, grabbing the last few items to shove in your bag. You had a chunky, themed sweater pulled over your head and a wad of cash in your back pocket. The fair didn’t take card. 

“Buck, I’ve talked about this for weeks! It’ll be fun, I promise.” 

He hung his head low as he sat on the bed, a deep sigh escaping his chest. “Yeah, yeah. Knew I wouldn't be able to get outta this one.” 

You padded over to him, steps made soft by your sock clad feet. They were halloween themed, just like your sweater. Bucky bought you that pair last week—shoved them to the bottom of the cart underneath the ten cases of beer he was getting for the club. 

You placed your knees on the bed, thighs encasing each of his own. And even though he was pouting—quite the sight for such a rough and tough biker—his hands immediately found your waist. He turned his head up and nuzzled his face into your neck, humming as your fingers ran through his hair.

“Come on, Buck, aren’t you excited to see the little kids trick or treating?”

He grunted, the sound tickling your skin. “I hate kids.” 

“That’s not true, you love Morgan. Offer to babysit her all the time.” 

“Morgan doesn’t count. That kid could probably beat me up.”

You pulled his head away, scratchy cheeks resting in your palms. “Well, not all kids are raised by a group of bikers, are they? Some are a little more… sensitive.” 

“I hate sensitivity. Makes people weak.” 

You could laugh at the irony, the six-one wall of muscle nestled into your arms with his hands tracing shapes on your sides as he told you sensitivity was a weakness. Bucky was one of the most sensitive people you had ever met. 

Well, he was with you. 

“I’ll be sure to let the kids know of your verdict,” you laughed. Bucky pulled your hips closer to his, looking dangerously comfortable for someone about to leave. “We’re going to be late.” 

He gifted you with an offhanded response; his attention was fixed elsewhere. His hands slid up your waist to rest on your back as he pressed your chest to his. You knew he was attempting to distract you, but his lips felt good against your neck, so you allowed it. For a moment. 

“Don’t you wanna stay home, baby?” he whispered. His breath sent shivers up your arms. “I promise I’ll make you feel good.” His lips slowly trailed up to your ear, teeth brushing just enough to make your chest heave. 

“I know what you’re trying to do.” Bucky’s shirt bunched up in your hands as you tried to remain level headed. “And it’s not going to work,” you hissed, his hips pressing up just enough for rough denim to give. “I really want those caramel apples.” 

“I’ll give you whatever you want if you stay home with me. Anything, name it.” 

You yanked yourself away from him, your resolve just seconds away from crumbling. “See, maybe that would work if I thought you wouldn’t give me anything I wanted anyway. But I know you too well for that.” 

He groaned, throwing himself back on the bed with a force. His large hand came up to wipe down his face and his eyes squeezed shut as if he were in pain. 

So dramatic. 

“I’ll meet you at the bike, Buck!” 

~~

The streets were lined with pumpkins and lights and now, Bucky’s bike as he tugged the helmet off your head. He smoothed your hair down as you gazed up at him, a fond smile gracing his face. He leaned over to press a kiss to your forehead, momentarily forgetting about his whereabouts. 

That is, until a screech met his ears, a kid dressed as a dinosaur sprinting past your legs. 

“This is really how I’m spending my Friday night,” Bucky said, astonishment clear in his tone. He looked back over at you. “This is how you're making me spend my weekend.” 

“Oh come on, it’s fun! There’s games over there and we can watch the costume contest! I think there’s a beer garden, but you’re driving.” You tugged him along, knowing that if Bucky Barnes truly didn’t want to do something, he wouldn’t. He just liked to put on a show and complain. 

As it turned out, the money you made sure to grab as you left your apartment would go unused, Bucky grumbling at each booth you took him to before pulling out his wallet. You definitely could have paid, tried to even, but each time you did Bucky went on about “needing to pay for his girl to feel more like a man at this thing.” 

As long as you got to eat the food at each stand and try your luck at winning the vampire teeth hanging behind the bottle toss, that was fine by you. 

And as long as you kept that wide smile on your face, anything was fine by Bucky. Not that he would say that. No, he was having a terrible time after all. 

You decided to take a short break after an hour, Bucky’s hands overloaded with snacks and the small trinkets you had managed to win along the way. It was a bit comical to see his leather covered arms wrapped around your newly acquired stuffed animal. He didn’t really think about it; the look on your face when you won the stupid thing was worth it. 

“I still think the punk was bein’ disrespectful.” Bucky sat beside you on the bench, the fair still underway around you. He had an arm thrown along the backrest and his thigh pressing to yours. 

“Bucky, he was just selling me a caramel apple,” you laughed, biting into the candy coated fruit. 

He scoffed. “You call that sellin’ you anything? He winked at you, y/n. How that idiot thinks he could ever take my girl is beyond me.” 

Bucky had used a lot of restraint as the teenager tried his hand at flirting, something you hadn’t even noticed. You never noticed those things and it drove your boyfriend mad. The guy had practically asked for your hand in marriage and you skipped off with your damn apple like it was nothing. 

“Okay, well even if he did wink at me, I obviously don’t care. Too busy thinking about you. And this apple.” 

“Well I care! Doesn’t he know who I am?” 

“I’m sure he does, Buck. You’re kinda hard to miss—very scary,” you cooed, brushing his cheek lovingly. 

He knocked your hand away but brought his arm off the bench to pull you close. “I am scary. I got the entire club I can set on that guy. Or I could just run him over with my bike.” 

“Want some apple? This one has ghost sprinkles on it.” 

“Yes.” 

You shoved a huge slice in his mouth and he took like a champ, chomping down as you pulled your attention to the pumpkin carving station ahead of you. It was nice to be here with him. The club had been more than a little busy lately, with what you never knew; Bucky kept you out of club business as much as possible. 

But his late nights and constant absences made him feel guilty beyond belief, that look on your face when he woke you up on his way out the door gut wrenching. He always went back to give you one last kiss before you heard his engine revving below your window. But that wasn’t enough. Nothing ever seemed to be enough for him when it came to you. 

Which was exactly why he was sitting at this street fair with stuffed animals piled onto his lap. 

To make matters somehow worse, the little room left on the bench was soon taken up by a small child dressed as a ghost. The makeshift sheet was lifted above his head to allow easy access for candy corn, and he seemed to be having a staring contest with the side of Bucky’s face. 

Bucky tried to ignore the little boy and his nosey looks, but after a full three minutes, he couldn’t handle it anymore. He turned his neck to give him an intimidating look, but the kid didn’t even blink. He tried lowering his frown more, even narrowing his eyes to slits, but the kid wouldn’t budge. 

“Be nice,” you chastised, nudging him. 

He kept his hardened gaze fixed on the boy. “I’ll be nice as soon as I’m not bein’ stared at.” 

“Buck, he’s like seven.” 

“What, all seven year olds gotta staring problem?”

“I’m actually eight.” The kid shoveled more candy corn in his mouth, punctuating his words. 

“Oh, see, baby? He’s eight. It’s fine.” 

You sighed. “Here scoot over a bit. He’s probably just—” 

“Are you the bogeyman?” the little boy interrupted. You choked out a surprised laugh. 

“Yes.” 

“Bucky!” Your laughter hadn’t stopped. You gave him a soft slap to the chest. “He’s not the bogeyman, honey, he’s just… angry all the time.” 

He scrunched up his face. “My mommy says that being angry all the time is bad for your heart.” 

“My heart’s fine,” Bucky grunted. He shifted his hold on you, pulling you closer to his chest. 

“Hmm, I guess it must be since you have such a pretty girlfriend. If you had a bad heart she probably wouldn't like you.” 

The kid was right. Underneath his rough exterior, Bucky had a good heart. The kind of heart that drove his bike twenty miles in the rain to get home to you, even though there was a bed always ready for him at the club. The kind that played dolls with Morgan and rubbed your back when you were nervous and would tackle a man if he made you uncomfortable. 

And you wouldn’t tell him this, but it was also the kind of heart that sat at a halloween fair and humored the eight year old with sticky candy corn fingers. 

“God, baby,” Bucky sighed. “Is everyone at this thing tryna steal you from me?” 

“Ew, I don’t want her. Girlfriends are gross and a waste of time.” The little ghost booked it off the bench, sheet dangling behind him. 

“Doesn’t feel too great to be a gross waste of time,” you chuckled, burrowing further into Bucky’s side as the wind picked up. 

He pressed a kiss to your temple. “Kid’s nuts. You’re the best thing to ever happen to me.” 

“Even though I make you come to these things?” 

“Especially because you make me come to these things. How else would I risk getting diabetes with the amount of sugar you’ve shoved in my mouth?” 

“Hey, it wasn’t that much.” You reached up to take his chin in your hand, angling his face down. “I do love you for taking me though. And for being so sweet.” 

He blushed. “‘Course I took you, baby. I’d take you anywhere.” 

“Well, do you wanna take me home?” 

“If you’re done, then sure. You wanna grab a water on the way out? Think I saw a booth on the other side of the—” 

“No, Bucky, do you want to take me home?” You spoke slowly, but your body was on a high from all the sugar you had consumed. 

His eyes widened. “God, I love you.” 

He had you perched on his bike in record time, shoving the prizes and food into the small compartment in the rear. He probably crushed some. You didn’t really care. 

Never one to break tradition, Bucky checked the straps of your helmet and gave your chin a fond tap—he’d done that every time you sat on his bike for the past few years. But today you could see a little extra joy in his eyes; there was a glint in them that somehow lit up his whole face. 

You could chalk it up to your suggestive offer on the bench, but something told you Bucky enjoyed himself tonight just as much as you did. 

Because Bucky had a good heart, even if he pretended like he didn’t.

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