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justkending · 6 months ago

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Mr. & Mrs. Hunt (Chapter 1)

Mini-Series Summary: Two of the most stubborn people in the group partnered together for an undercover mission are also the two people with the most hatred for each other, so what could go wrong? Or is it, what COULDN’T go wrong?…

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger Reader

Word Count: 2700+

A/N Note: OK! Here we go! I'm excited to share this mini-series and what's to come in it. It's a lot more in-depth than I thought it would be, but I love it. I hope you do as well :) Anyway! As always, please let me know what you think, and all comments are welcome!

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“And you chose those two to go on a task together?” Steve exasperated, running a hand over his face as he looked over the video footage in front of them.

“Everyone else was on a mission,” Tony exclaimed.

“That and it doesn’t matter what their petty vendettas against each other are. They’re professionals at the end of the day that better get their God damn acts together before I personally make them regret it,” Fury countered.

“Undercover newlyweds seems like a risky assignment for them,” Nat added. “Steve and I have done it before. We can-”

“No, you can not,” Fury cut them off and clicked a button on his desk that swapped the video footage of druglords to a file slowly scrolling. “You both have an assignment I’m sending you in the next hour in correlation to this case. So without your work, theirs is pointless. Got it?”

Nat and Steve shared a quick look before the blonde gave him a curt nod for him to continue.

Fury went on to explain how an insider of the criminal group had confirmed shipments, including hostages working as drug mules and other illegal substances that hadn’t been tested yet across US borders. A whole operation in itself, but Bucky and Y/N’s job would give them information the current insiders they had on the job weren’t able to attain.

Y/N and Bucky’s undercover assignment was to act as newlyweds, infiltrate the front runners of the group, and try to become a proven alliance in hopes of joining the group in their ‘business’.

“So we’re on standby with information until they have leads to help our end?” Steve concluded.

“Yes. And vice versa. You’re running tactical, and they’re running intelligence, although a mix in between,” Fury nodded, handing them a paper copy of the mission.

“And it can’t go the other way?” Nat asked.

“Your faces have become much too well known in the last few years for it to be passable,” Tony added, arms crossed and reclined in the rolling office chair he couldn’t see to keep stationary. “Bucky doesn’t care for the public eye and has changed appearances since his run from the government, and no one can forget America’s sweetheart over here,” he motioned to Steve.

“I’ve changed identities enough to get by,” Nat shrugged, watching the brunette carefully.

“Yes, but Y/N’s face hasn’t graced the nationwide flatscreens nearly as much as yours,” he smiled spryly and fluttered his eyelashes. “Plus, it’s already been decided, so we’re moving on from the argument.”

“How long of an operation are we talking about here if the two have to create a relationship with the front runners of this?” Steve asked.

“Depends on how well the couple can sell it,” Fury crossed his arms. “Speaking of the couple.”

“Shove me again, and you’ll lose another limb that you’ll miss far more than that arm,” Y/N growled as she pushed past the massive body blocking her way into the meeting room.

“There’s a thing called manners, and it’s free to use them,” Bucky grunted as she shoved him with surprising strength that made him slightly teeter.

The group outside of the new additions gave each other a hopeless look.

“I give it two days,” Steve sighed, resting his head on his fist and watching them as they struggled to find the last open chair. Y/N came on top of the scrabble and shoved him again for extra measures.

“Jackass,” Bucky mumbled as he leaned against the wall behind her, kicking her chair in extra annoyance.

“Bitchass,” Y/N retorted, throwing a middle finger behind her.

“I think you give them too much credit,” Nat let out a dry chuckle before turning to Fury. “Please, break the news to the two idiots so I can have a highlight of this night.”

“What news?” Y/N furrowed her eyebrows to Fury. She was one of the few people who didn’t show fear towards the walking intimidation of a man.

“Your next mission,” Tony answered in a long breath. “Where you and Barnes will be known as Mr. and Mrs. Hunt.”

“Excuse me?” Bucky gawked and stood straighter in his spot.

“What’s the date today?” Y/N asked at the same time.

Bucky came around from her back and gave her a worried yet disgusted look. “I’m sorry. For what reason are you worried about the date?”

She never took her eyes off Fury. “I’m just trying to clarify if it’s April 1st or not because this is a poorly done April Fools joke,” she held an equally intimidating stare at the master in front of her.

“It’s June. You’re off by a few months,” he replied, unphased and unbreaking.

“Then I’d like some clarification on who needs a fucking lobotomy, considering that’s the dumbest fucking idea I’ve heard today. And I’ve been around this dumbass for the last 12 hours already,” she jabbed a finger back at Bucky, whose nostrils were flaring.

“Real classy, Princess,” he said lowly.

“Thanks, I like to keep it that way, Cyborg,” she replied without turning to him. “But seriously, is it you, Fury, that needs a Psych eval because there is no way in hell you thought this idea would actually work out in your favor.”

The room was silent as the two most intense people in the room had a stare-down. Eventually, Fury spoke up with a smirk on his lips.

“You better figure the fuck out how to make it work in my favor because any other way isn’t really an option for you, Sergeant Y/L/N.”

Before Y/N could fire another remark that would likely have put anyone else six feet in the ground, Bucky cut her off. “What’s the mission?”

Y/N finally gave Bucky her attention with a stern face freckled with annoyance. “Teacher’s pet.” Bucky made a face at her before she turned around.

Fury went on to explain the mission on both their end and Nat and Steve’s. From the sounds of it, it was going to take months of convincing some dicks in the drug trafficking business (covering as presidents of the homeowner association club) that they wanted in on their scheme in order to get the information no one else seems to be able to steal.

“How many sundresses do you own, Y/N? Because I don’t think your rock band, ripped jeans, and Doc Martens are going to convince anyone you’re the baked-you-a-fresh-pie-as-a-hello-to-the-neighborhood-kind of wife,” he added, emphasizing the label he had already created for her undercover character.

“How are they going to take to a half-robotic husband?” she shoved his vibranium hand off the back of her chair.

“I have technology for that,” Tony jumped in.

“And I have your credit card for a new wardrobe, so I guess that solves both those problems,” she flashed a fake smile at Tony before crossing her arms snuggly across her chest.

“You’re gonna have to leave that attitude at home, too,” Bucky got down to whisper in her ear, and he moved fast enough before she could sucker punch him in the face.

“Why not just arrest these two? Why go through the whole process of undercover work if we know they’re running the operation?” Y/N questioned, pivoting side to side in her chair as she thought aloud.

“Because there isn’t solid evidence, thanks to their associates being connected enough to cover shit up,” Fury answered. “And we believe there are multiple parties of their stature in the game. Meaning, we arrest them, the others scatter, and we risk losing a lot of information and take 20 steps back from where we’re at.”

“Hmm,” she nodded as she stared off into a void space in the room, calculating her approach to this.

“You’re actually considering this?” Nat asked. “I expected more of a fight.”

“I’m telling myself that it’s the drugs and possible human trafficking I’m doing this for, and tormenting Bucky along the way will be a bonus instead of a nuisance,” she replied with a weak smile like she was still convincing herself that.

“Smart,” Nat shrugged and gave an agreeable face.

“Your flights are leaving in four and a half hours, so I suggest packing your bag of necessities before we ship you off,” Tony sat up from his chair, stretching. “Any other things you need will be provided at the house already set up for you two to play the part of newlyweds. And get used to that word because it's about to become extremely annoying hearing it on repeat. Barnes comes with me to get that looking more human-like,” he pointed at his arm before walking out.

Bucky scanned over the file in hand and let out a sigh. “We couldn’t get stationed beach somewhere in Hawaii?”

“You’ll find the mountains rather eye-catching this time of the year,” Fury typed a few things on his desk and clasps his hands behind his back. “And that you don’t have a choice either way. Dismissed.”

___________________

Y/N’s POV

The amount of junk they had pawned off to us as “newlywed cargo” seemed excessive. Brand new appliances were still in boxes unopened, letters on them saying who had gifted them to us as our “wedding gift” littered the kitchen and entryway.

I was currently in the guest room unpacking a box of linens and bedding in the spare closet. My mind was a hundred miles away from my physical body, but somehow, I had managed to organize the closet in a surprisingly efficient manner while on autopilot.

“Honey,” Bucky’s voice came from the hallway, and I took advantage of the times I wasn’t being watched to roll my eyes at the pet name. Before I could respond with a snarky comment, he followed up with, “The next-door neighbors are here to introduce themselves. Wanna come say hi?”

Showtime.

“Be right out!” I shouted back, standing from my spot, crouched to the ground, and brushing off one of the many new sundresses now taking up space in my closet.

For clarity, it’s not that I was against them; it just wasn’t my usual taste. Though the freeness of no pants was starting to rub off on me…

Coming around the corner of the hallway to our homey new abode, I plastered an award-winning smile on my face and scanned the two individuals in front of Bucky. I gave Bucky a silent look that read, “Hey sweetheart,” to outsiders and, “The assholes in question?” to a trained eye.

“Doll,” Bucky started, nodding his head once at my true question and matching my step to wrap an arm around my waist, pulling me close for extra show. “This is Reginold and Bethanne Bauer. They’re our neighbors right across the street from us,” he introduced, adding a squeeze to my hip that I countered with a pinch to his side that he chuckled off.

The physical touch was for show, but I knew he used it as a way to irritate me further, too. Lucky for me, it’s a two-player game.

“Please, call me Reggie,” the middle-aged man offered his hand.

The man looked like he played the role of a typical white male living in a cookie-cutter home, but his build showed he wasn’t on the unfit side of things. From the files, he was 42 years old, and he obviously had kept his health a priority because he could have been in his mid 30s, from what I gathered.

“You must be Charlotte,” Bethanne said, jumping in when her husband didn’t release my hand in a timely manner. “My my, you’re far more beautiful up close,” she said with a sweet smile, though any woman could recognize the hint of judgment in them.

Bethanne Bauer was a 5’6”, 38-year-old lady with darker blonde hair and a figure that showed she likely was a pilates guru who didn’t take many days off. Her Lululemon leggings and slicked-back bun confirmed this assessment.

“Well, aren’t you sweet,” I replied with a nose crinkle and a firm squeeze of my hand before drawing it back to rest on Bucky’s chest. “We appreciate you coming by and introducing yourself,” I smiled up to Bucky, who was already looking down at me (what a showman). I leaned my head in the nook of his shoulder as I turned back to them. “We were so nervous about starting over in a new state and weren’t sure what the community would be like. But everyone’s been so kind here in Montana, and you guys are just proving that point.”

“Oh, this neighborhood is like a family,” Reggie replied, keeping his eyes on me. I'd feel uneasy if I didn’t know how to disarm a man in five hundred ways, but I knew more than 500 ways to get a man like the one in front of me to grovel. “So much so, you may be under careful watch for a while,” he winked, and I forced a laugh out, Bucky pulling me closer to his side at the harmless threat. “I’m just joking with ya,” he waved off with a boisterous laugh of his own, and Bethanne rolled her eyes.

“He thinks he’s a comedian,” she playfully patted his shoulder. “But really, if you guys need anything at all, we are just a shout away. Or, our welcome to the neighborhood gift basket has our phone numbers in it, too, if you prefer to call.”

Off to the side, I noticed a cellophane wicker basket with baked goods, a wine bottle, and some gift cards in it. Bucky must have accepted it before I got in here.

“You all are too kind,” I gushed, putting a hand on my chest in appreciation. “See honey,” I swatted Bucky’s chest, getting a tiny grunt from him. “I told you we would find a home here. I have a good feeling about this community,” I winked back at them with a wide grin.

I could see the studying eyes on the woman and decided to act oblivious to her assessing.

“Can I ask y’all a quick question?” I asked, a twinge of a southern accent I hadn’t pulled in ages coming out casually. “Where is the best grocery store around here? I’ve heard mixed things about the two stores y’all have, and you guys seem to have great taste, so,” I motioned to the gift basket.

Bethanne listed a few of the stores they go to, ones I had researched on our flight here to get a better grounding of our new home. Of course, they were the more high-end stops. Eventually, the Bauers excused themselves for a neighborhood meeting they had planned, and Bucky and I were left alone. As soon as the door shut, I moved to the kitchen to grab a notepad.

“Have we unpacked the pens, Beau?” I asked loudly, using Bucky’s fake name, which he seemed to know why right off the bat.

“Second drawer by the fridge,” he motioned, opening the basket and going through it, our charades still continuing.

“I had a few things we need to grab from the store and thanks to our helpful neighbors, we know the best spot now,” I mindlessly talked as I wrote on the note; Check for bugs.

A welcome basket was fine and dandy, but considering who it was from and how quick they were to be at our doorstep—not even two hours into the moving vans' pull-up��I knew the drill, and so did Bucky as he listed out aloud what was in the gift.

“Wow, they got us Doordash gift cards,” he smiled, placing them on the marble counter. “Wanna eat in tonight? Maybe a local spot?”

“Sounds good to me,” I hummed, coming around the island corner and placing the notebook beside it. “Oh, did you find their number? We can ask if they have any suggestions.”

Placing the pen on top of the notepad for Bucky to respond, I moved to look in the basket myself and grabbed the note they had attached to it.

“Eat in, drink some wine, and,” he circled the word ‘bugs,’ confirming the suspicion before leaning on the counter and looking at me with communicative eyes that didn’t match his words. “Watch a movie if I can get the TV set up by then.”

“Sounds like a date,” I smiled, but the annoyance that we had to be playing our characters until we could dispose of the bug was playing in my eyes.

Marvel Tags:

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My Lovelies forever:

@natura1phenomenon @lauravicente @kakakatey @traceyaudette @notyourtypicalrose @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @sandlee44 @thorne93 @thefaithfulwriter1 @essie1876 @greyeyedsmile14 @capsiclehan @xostephanie @averyrogers83 @awesomenursingstudent @gh0stgurl @cs-please @jjlevin @rainbowkisses31 @deannotmoose @their-bibliophile @kitkatd7 @willowbleedsonpaper @mariaenchanted @snffbeebee @couldabeenamermaid @rebekahdawkins @alyispunk @billyseye @hallecarey1

Bucky Barnes Tags:

@chloe-skywalker @charmedbysarge @jbarness @bellamy-barnes @katiaw2 @aikeia @stopjustlovethemcu @enchantedbarnes

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captainsimagines · 2 years ago

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pretty woman, this is me trying || one

Summary: Bucky Barnes does not like to be touched. He’s completely ready to live a distant life and give up when the time is right. Until Stark hires him his own personal pretty woman. Over time, Bucky Barnes begins to learn how to touch again. How to feel again. How to love himself again.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female SexWorker!Reader

Trope(s): Holiday Fanfic ; Slow-Burn ; Friends to Lovers

Based on the Song(s): sweet nothing by Taylor Swift and Iris by The Goo Goo Dolls

(1/14)

Mini-Series / AO3 Link

Warnings: PTSD themes; past sexual abuse (Hydra); strong language; panic attacks; nightmares

Word Count: 2,950+

Author’s Note: A holiday fanfic! You know I couldn’t leave you all hanging! I’m excited for this one. I know it deals with a lot more heavy situations, but I wanted to write something angsty/romantic. PLUS, I wrote this in 3 days so I’m sorry if it’s bad lol

I hope I do you justice. Love you all. xxMoni

Bucky Barnes did not like to be touched.

He did not shake hands, he did not hug, he did not do well with even the slightest brush of someone’s body. The faintest of touches froze him. Paralyzed in the faint sensation. Memories of harsh hands and machines, demented laughter and sedated foreplay, echoed through his mind.

The only person he allowed to touch him when necessary was Steve, and even then Bucky had to remind himself that it was his best friend. The size of Steve’s body was not a danger. The command of his voice was for safety only, and not to order him to strip. The friendly claps on the back were meant to ease Bucky into the world, not to bend him over from behind.

Sometimes he believed he was getting better. Mornings were beautiful, food tasted great, and everyone greeted him with a smile. On those special days, Bucky's heart filled with hope. Hope he could sit in close proximity to someone else, hope he could travel outside the compound and not rely on his super soldier skills, hope he could get out of his head for one second.

But when someone entered a room too loudly, or when he was forced to physically fight an enemy—those special days crumbled to ash, now cruel illusions that sent Bucky on a downward spiral. A spiral Steve usually had to coax him out of with gentle words, words that scarily resembled begging.

So Bucky has given up on trying to fit in. On trying to find the light at the end of the tunnel. On trying to feel human again.

And fuck all that bullshit about being human was to feel pain.

Pain was not a good emotion, and it was mean to give it relevance to the human condition.

It wasn’t an emotion every human had to suffer in order to be considered living. It was an emotion that was cruel and unforgiving and completely, completely exhausting.

If Bucky Barnes had to live his life without touch again, then so be it. If he had to step out of a room to calm his nerves with the repetition of his tapping fingers, then so be it. He did not want to feel trapped, or abused, or ridiculed ever again. He did not believe in soft touches or love making anymore.

First, the war stole his boyhood.

Then the Swiss Alps stole his life.

And Hydra stole his dignity.

His time with Hydra had been documented to horrible extremes. Extremes Bucky was certain were going to be plastered on media outlets and history books. But he had discovered one night, while on a solo-mission to the compound’s lounge, that those theories were unlikely.

Because he had found Tony Stark and Natalia Romanov scouring every database and paper trail about his torture… and completely destroying it. With help from Jarvis, Bucky’s recorded nightmares were erased. Washed out. Encrypted, set on fire, and utterly gone.

Neither Tony or Natalia ever spoke to him of it. He assumed Stark was simply avoiding an awkward conversation, and that he didn’t exactly do good with such rough topics. Natalia did write down the number of her therapist for him.

He threw the piece of paper away.

And on nights like these, he really wished he hadn’t.

Bucky curled up in his thin bedsheets and clutched them close, willing his body to stop sweating. He tried to touch his knees to his chest but he was too large. If he could feel pressure there, then he could fall asleep. If there was added pressure to his back, then the sleep would be immaculate.

He turned and piled the pillows high, setting them behind his back. The coldness of the cotton seeped into his skin, instantly relaxing him. He clutched a throw pillow to his chest and pressed it down, counting by even numbers.

Pressure, a sequence, and breathing.

He could tell by the bright white light shining through his curtains that it was still night. No light that bright could be anything but the moon. That was a reassuring constant for him.

“Shall I ring for Captain Rogers, Sergeant Barnes?” Jarvis whispered over the speakers in Bucky’s room.

Jarvis’s random voice didn’t scare Bucky anymore. At first, it had caused Bucky to spring into a full blown panic attack. But as time went on and Jarvis continued to speak with him randomly, at odd times, Bucky’s body got used to it. Expected it.

“No, Jarvis. I’m good.”

Jarvis hummed, pausing a little before saying, “Let me know if you need anything.”

Bucky didn’t respond. He never took Jarvis up on that offer anyway.

He curled further into his mound of sheets and pillows and shut his eyes, forcing himself into a dreamless sleep.

He succeeded in sleeping, but relived memories twice over in the dark.

“Twenty bucks says you don’t ask her,” Steve declared, pulling his wallet from his coat.

Wanda giggled from behind the kitchen counter, pouring coffee into her impossibly large mug. Pietro saddled up beside her, stealing the mug for himself.

Sam clicked his tongue. “Bet. I’ll do it today after dinner.”

Steve scoffs, “Fuck off. Another twenty says you won’t have the balls to ask until next week.”

Bucky snickered as he looked between his two friends. He sat with his left leg bent so he could rest his chin on his knee, comfortable enough to be casual this morning. He sipped at his hot chocolate, grateful Wanda gave him one of the festive mugs. It was December 1st, after all.

“After dinner,” Sam promised, slapping his own twenty onto the dining table.

Wanda leaned forward and snatched the money for herself. “I’ll keep this bet safe for the time being.”

“You think she’ll say yes?” Bucky asked, overly curious.

Sam asking Natasha to the annual Avengers Christmas ball? Yeah, right.

Sam puffed out his chest, his smile wide. “I’ll bet more money, Barnes. That’s how confident I am.”

Steve rolled his eyes. He finally picked up his fork and dug into his eggs. With his mouth full, he said, “If you think you know Romanoff, you don’t.”

It was Sam’s turn to roll his eyes. “Like I said, Cap. I’m confident about this.”

“Well, I think that’s a good attitude to have,” Pietro commented, sitting down beside Steve with own full plate of eggs and bacon. “And when it all crashes and fails, we get to be the ones to tell you ‘I told you so!’”

Sam flung a piece of bacon across the table, cursing Pietro’s name.

Bucky watched it all unfold, feeling both inside and outside the circle at once. He was a part of the conversation, but he still felt benched. His body would lurch forward on its own accord and try to join in—maybe to thump Pietro on the back of the head, slap Steve on the back, grab a mug of coffee from Wanda’s delicate hands.

It was funny, really. Being afraid of Wanda’s hands because of his own history and not because of the power she held within them.

He was both included, and not. There, and nowhere. Inside his head but forcing himself to step out of it. Dissociating for too long until the conversation was on another topic entirely.

Jarvis’s voice snapped them from their play fighting. “Sergeant Barnes, Sir has asked me to tell you that he would like your opinion on something.”

Bucky grumbled, drinking from his hot chocolate. “What does he want?”

“Oh, that’s the wonder of standing up and finding out for yourself, isn’t it, Sergeant Barnes?”

Sam howled, nearly choking on his last piece of bacon. “Jarvis really is Stark’s creation. Jesus fucking Christ.”

Bucky sighed, having been left with no choice. He placed his half-drunk mug in the sink and waved goodbye to everyone, trying hard not to stomp to Stark’s lab.

Stark was under a massive machine with six arms and blue lasers when Bucky walked into the lab later that afternoon. He had ignored Jarvis’s constant badgering and decided to visit the lab after his morning run. Only after it Bucky was certain he wouldn’t physically fight Stark if what he had to say was idiotic.

“My one and only!”

Bucky rolled his eyes and sat at the farthest chair from the monster machine. “You called?”

“And you diddle-daddled.”

To this, Bucky actually laughs. Sometimes Stark got on his nerves, other times he was a breath of fresh, realist air.

Stark climbed out from underneath the metal monstrosity, wiping oil from his hands. Bucky waited patiently as Stark finally sat, cracking his neck three times before speaking.

“So… The Christmas Ball.”

“Uh huh.”

Stark adjusted his seating, slowly lowering himself in his rolly-chair. Bucky watched him become shorter, awkwardly staring at him and the walls simultaneously. Whatever Stark wanted to talk to him about, it was becoming less interesting to Bucky.

“Pepper has informed me that there is going to be an auction. A, donate thousands of dollars to take me out on a date, type thing.”

Bucky grimaced. “Isn’t that prostitution?”

“No, it’s escorting. Prostitution is the other honorable profession.”

Bucky hummed.

Stark wiped a stressed hand down his face, curling his lips as he continued speaking. “Pepper has also informed me that only Thor is being auctioned for real. Meaning, everyone else isn't actually on the roster. Their dates are going to be the highest bidder regardless of what anyone bids that night.”

Bucky frowned, stumped. “So, we’re denying money from actual bidders and rigging this thing?”

“No. Private donors have already given their fair share of money. We’ve flown past our goal for the evening.”

“Then why have the Ball in the first place?”

“Appearances, photo ops, meeting new people—You name it.”

So Steve and Sam were going to be “sold” to their highest bidder, who will also happen to be their dates for that evening. That nice coffee shop girl Steve has been dating for the past six months was already invited…

That meant she was bidding whatever amount she needed to, regardless of the price, for a date with Steve. Money that was already donated before the damn Ball even started.

Bucky looked to the white, marble floor for answers. But all he saw was his distorted reflection, staring back at him with creeping realization.

“What… What about me?”

Stark sighed, shrugging his shoulders empathetically. “I tried everything, Barnes. But the higher-ups forced us to include you, too.”

Bucky was going to throw up. That ball of nausea that often stuck to the back of his throat was crawling upward, scratching his tongue, begging to be let free. To spill all over this damned marble floor.

He whimpered silently, turning his face to his metal shoulder. His hair covered his anguished expression, but it was pointless to assume Stark hadn’t noticed. Bucky’s neck was already redder than the original color itself.

“Barnes, listen to me.” Bucky tried to follow the direction of Stark’s voice. When he blinked, his vision seemed to get blurrier. “Breathe. Tap those fingers. You remember you got fingers, right?”

Bucky counted to three, then began to tap his index and thumb together. He relished in the feel of his skin, in the lifted edges of his fingerprints, of his filed fingernails. Slowly, the world stopped spinning. The chair didn’t feel like it was caving in anymore. The walls stopped stretching and his ears stopped ringing.

The remnants of his panic attack settled in his chest, pulsing uncomfortably. But he could finally open his eyes long enough and not feel like passing out.

“Good, good. Now if you would just let me finish.”

Bucky huffed a quiet laugh, easily amused by Stark’s sarcasm. It was a surprise how quickly the two fell into step after Bucky moved into the compound, seeking each other out for random answers and opinions. Steve had questioned it, but accepted that if Bucky was alright with it, he wouldn’t budge.

“I spoke with Pepper. You have two options: Let me find you a date who I promise will not leak anything to the press, touch you without permission, or annoy you until you feel like swallowing a bullet.”

Bucky blinked at him, eyebrows scrunching. Stark getting him a date? Bucky didn’t want to date any of Stark’s past flings or strangers he might pull off the streets. The rational part of his brain understands that this person will be vetted and practically stalked, but it’s the irrational side that’s telling him this person might just hurt him. They could convince the world they’re the most innocent thing ever, but when he’s alone with them that mask could easily fall off and reveal eight tentacles and a flaming skull.

“Or,” Stark enunciates, standing from his incredibly low chair. He blew a fast raspberry before saying, “You and Sam attend together, or you and Natasha.”

Okay, that seemed like the better option. He trusts both Sam and Natalia, trusts them to keep their hands to themselves and protect him. Yeah, that was obviously the better choice—

But Sam wanted to ask Natalia. Sam has been wanting to ask her a million things before the Ball was ever a reality. His friend had all this insane amount of exhilarating excitement when he even thought about the red head.

Bucky couldn’t take that away from him. Even if his own comfort was the victim in this situation.

“This… person. Will they be an escort?”

Stark’s eyes widened momentarily before he steadied himself. “Yes, and maybe no. They’ll be the person I believe can be most trusted. Are you okay with the possibility of taking a hooker to the Ball?”

Bucky grunted, “Don’t use that word.”

“It’s the 21st century, Barnes. Hooker means prostitute, prostitute means sex worker, and sex worker has a positive connotation nowadays.”

“Just say escort.”

Stark grumbled beneath his breath, turning to a nearby computer and typing something into the search bar. “Jarvis, make sure this web search is wiped from the center of the earth after I’m done with it.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Tony.” Stark knew that when Bucky used his first name, it was a call to turn around and look him in the eye. So that’s exactly what Stark did. “A sex worker expects sex, don’t they? I’m not giving them that, so how can you expect me to be fine with it?”

Stark tapped his fingers against random keys, deep in thought. “I don’t know how to say this without sounding offensive. Jarvis, help me out. How do I say, ‘You don’t have to fuck the person, you can just pay them,’ kindly?”

“We will be searching for people who have voluntarily enrolled in sex work, Sergeant Barnes. Any meeting you set up with them is consensual. And the beauty of consensual sex work is, without a doubt, the freedom of choice. So think about it like this, Sergeant Barnes: They will not touch you if you do not ask. You are investing time, and they will accept the money without a kiss exchanged if that is what you wanted.”

A companion?

Bucky had only ever had Steve and Sam after he returned to the compound. Only ever hung out with them outside in the real world, too. A random person entering the compound and pretending to be his date seemed a little extreme, no? Like he couldn’t make friends of his own.

But wasn’t that the real reason behind all this? Bucky didn’t have many contacts or love interests to take to this damn Christmas Ball so he was being punished for it. Forced to interact with a stranger and the stranger forced to interact with him.

“I can do a proper search of these websites with Jarvis’s and Hill’s help and get back to you in the morning, okay? Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

“I only have to meet them tomorrow and that’s it?”

Stark wobbled a flat hand in the air. “Kind of. Spend one day with them and tell me if you think you can last a whole night with them as your date. I don’t want you to be paired with someone I thought was great but you find repulsive.”

Okay, that was somewhat considerate. But a whole day? At best, Bucky will last a few hours before wanting to run under a hill.

“Okay,” he surrendered.

Stark sighed, “I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable, Barnes. It’s just… Maybe it’s not the ideal way, but meeting new people isn’t always a bad thing, you know?”

“Oh?” Bucky replied sarcastically.

“Oh. You think I didn’t suffer the same thing? People I knew since birth betrayed me. I’ve got trust issues too, my man.”

“We’re not comparing sad little tales, Stark.”

“Find it in your ice cold heart to be compassionate, Barnes.”

Bucky chuckled, leaning back in his seat. “So, tomorrow then?”

Stark nodded. “I’ll do my best to find you a hot piece of ass.”

“Stark!”

“Sorry! I joke. I kid. I jest.”

Bucky watched Stark toy with his experiments for ten minutes more before bidding him a good rest of his day.

Maybe a companion wouldn’t be so bad. He’d have someone to talk to after all. Text, get coffee with, watch movies with. He could do all those things with Steve and Sam but they were busy. Busy with work, busy with life, busy with everything Bucky avoided for good reason.

And even though his body is physically repulsed by the idea of being in close proximity with an absolute stranger, perhaps someone who was forced to be nice to him wasn’t exactly a lousy idea.

Maybe it was necessary.

#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes/reader #bucky barnes fanfic #holiday fanfic #bucky barnes au #pretty woman au #avengers au #marvel fanfiction #mini-series #captainsimagines #by Moni

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