#hannahs3kwritingchallenge

[moonstruckbucky]

Culture Shock [one-shot]

Summary: In which Bucky learns he might not be fully caught up with the current century.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader [established relationship]

Warnings: Fluff

Notes: Taking a break from Angstville to bring you a nice fun, fluffy piece! This is for @kentuckybarnes‘s 3k writing challenge and my word was kerfuffle! It’ll be bolded below! Enjoy! x

ker·fuf·fle

noun

a commotion or fuss, especially one caused by conflicting views.

Living in Avengers Tower had taken some getting used to. An entire building dedicated to housing Earth’s Mightiest Heroes that’s provided an intimate look inside their daily lives.. From time to time you would wonder how the press would take it if they were to learn that Sam leaves uncovered food in the fridge to spoil. Or that Bucky really hates cleaning the lint trap in the dryer and leaves it for the next person to deal with. Or that Natasha has a pair of fluffy pink bunny pajama pants that she wears after rough missions.

On second thought, that last one you’ll take to your grave. Avenger you may be, but stupid you most definitely are not.

Inside the tower, they’re normal people, a far cry from the idols of the world who emulate grace, intelligence, and dignity. In the tower, they bicker like children over menial things, such as who’d eaten the last of the Poptarts, and they cry over movie nights when someone picks a tear-jerker.

So it’s no surprise when you return from a mission to hear a commotion in the kitchen. Still donned in your uniform, a skintight catsuit that really doesn’t allow for proper breathing, dirty, and mentally exhausted, you take a detour past the kitchen to see what the fuss is about. The Avengers are all gathered around the island, Steve at the stove dishing out heaping plates of eggs, bacon, toast, and sausage. He looks ridiculous in the Falcon-themed apron Sam got him as a gag one Christmas, the fabric stretched tight across his outrageously-muscled chest. You can practically hear the seams screaming.

Bucky hunches over the island, a bowl in front of him, with his head ducked down, dark hair around his face like a curtain. Sam stands over him, an incredulous expression on his face, jaw slack. Nat watches on, leaning back in her chair, in that all-knowing, hawk-like way she has while Clint beside her stifles chuckles around a bite of breakfast.

Sam sassily pops a hip, plants a fist on his hip and leans the other hand on the granite. He snarks, “You know, I’m startin’ to think HYDRA left nothin’ in that head o’ yours, Ice Man.”

A year ago, that remark would’ve been the last to be heard of Sam Wilson, but Bucky’s come a long way, and the jab is met with what you suppose is a lackluster glare of annoyance that doesn’t phase the Falcon.

“Can it, Birdbrain,” Bucky snaps back.

“What’s all the kerfuffle?”

Sam’s eyes find yours, take in your bemused and curious little smirk as you enter the room, and he holds his hands out towards you. Bucky sends you a small but no less bright smile over his shoulder before turning back to Sam when he speaks.

“Okay, now we can settle this shit once and for damn all,” he crows. “Y/N, please come tell Mr. Freeze over here how you prepare cereal in the morning.”

You step up beside Bucky, glancing down to take in his flaming red cheeks that he tries to hide behind his hair. Casually you lean your elbow on his shoulder, the metal unyielding under your weight.

“What are you picking on my boyfriend about now, Pigeon?” you taunt with an arched eyebrow. Bucky snorts into his spoonful of cereal, chewing languidly as Sam waves off your jab.

“Just please, answer the question. For science,” he implores, holding out his hands in a begging manner. “How do you prepare cereal?”

“Cereal first and then milk? How else do you make cereal?” you answer, tone dripping with an duh kind of lilt, and it sends Sam into a frenzy. He shrieks and jumps away from the counter, hands in the air and looking mighty foolish.

“I told you!” he exclaims, pointing at Bucky who’s now trying to hide his face in his elbows. The others are a combination of giggles, chuckles, and mere looks of amusement at Bucky’s expense, and for a second you feel badly. “Girl, you need to school your boytoy in the ways of the 21st century because this moody popsicle out here pouring milk first and then cereal.”

Eyes wide with incredulity, you lift off Bucky’s shoulder and lean over him expectantly. His head burrows further and you finally notice the aforementioned bowl of cereal, that, despite the few bites taken out of it, clearly looks as if it had been indeed poured milk first and then cereal.

Bucky picks his head up, cheeks still red with an embarrassed flush, and gestures to the bowl. “If you do it the other way, you mess up the milk-to-cereal ratio and then you got cereal all over the counter!”

Over the time Bucky’s been in the tower, the more comfortable he grew, the more often his Brooklyn accent slipped through when he was excited or buzzed off Thor’s liquor. It makes you giggle quietly now, watching him try to defend his position on the correct order of cereal-making. He turns jokingly betrayed eyes on you and you quiet yourself by biting down on your lip.

“Okay Bucky,” you tell him, voice still tinkling with giggles. “It’s your cereal, you do what you want.”

Bucky huffs indignantly and crosses his thick arms over his chest, clearly not happy with the slight condescending, albeit joking, tone to your voice. Meanwhile, Sam scoffs and scrubs a hand over his face.

“I suppose you’re gonna tell him that it’s okay to just bite into ice cream or bite into a string cheese stick, too,” he gripes. “Man, I don’t know why I look to you for anything when it comes to him.”

Smiling, you step behind Bucky and wrap your arms around his shoulders, fingers splayed across his chest as he moves his hands to hold your wrists. You drop a loving kiss into his hair, slightly damp from a shower he must’ve taken earlier.

“I don’t really know why, either, Pigeon, because I’m always going to take Bucky’s side over yours.” Your cheeky grin is met with a half-hearted leer from the Falcon, who scoops up his plate of breakfast.

“I’m just gonna go eat in my room where I’m not surrounded by absolute animals.” His footsteps echo down the hall to the elevator, where it dings, the door opens, and moments later, closes. Once he’s gone, you straighten up a little but keep Bucky in your grip.

“Well, that was a fun way to come home,” you quip.

“How’d the mission go?” Steve asks, ever the responsible Captain. You shrug lazily.

“Not much better than we expected. Sat in that room for six hours without so much as a peep. Sorry, Cap.”

He waves you away and a yawn breaks through your relaxed stance. Bucky’s hand slides up and down your arm comfortingly and he turns his head to look up at you.

“Tired?”

“Beat,” you reply with a nod. “I’m gonna go clean up and crash. I’ll see you later?”

A shared kiss, an affirmative nod, and you’re trudging out of the kitchen. You’re woken from your nap a few hours later by Bucky pressing light kisses across your back. When he gets to the nape of your neck, you shiver and groan, and Bucky drops onto the mattress beside you.

“Time is it?” you question sleepily with your eyes still closed.

“Almost three. You been asleep a while, doll.” He slides down the bed, carefully pulling you onto his chest where you burrow into his warmth. God bless that super-soldier serum.

“Because I was so bored out of my goddamn mind,” you grumble. His chest vibrates with a low chuckle that has the corners of your mouth quirking up. His hands dance along your back, and your mind flashes back to the incident in the kitchen. “Question.”

“Answer.” His voice is thick, as if he’s close to dozing off himself.

“You don’t just bite into a cheese stick right? Because if so, we might have to reevaluate this relationship.”

You squeak, eyes flying open, as Bucky rolls the two of you over, keeping most of his weight off you though still keeping you pinned under him. His hands fly to your sides and his fingers wiggle, sending you into a flurry of laughter.

“Oh really now?” he taunts with a devilish grin as you squeal and writhe beneath him to get away from his assault. It’s futile, really, he’s far too massive. “You really gonna call it quits because I ain’t got time to fuck around with a cheese stick? Huh?”

“N-No, no! Bucky, I’m so-s-sorry! I take it back! Yield!” you cry breathlessly. To your relief, he stops and you melt back into the bed. He’s grinning down at you while you catch your breath, his eyes softening by the second until he looks absolutely moon-eyed.

His metal hand brushes hair out of your face, cool against your flushed face, before his mouth descends to yours, feather-light but no less toe-curling. He presses a few more chaste kisses to your lips and cheeks before pulling back.

“I love you,” he murmurs lowly, and you can see the adoration reflected in his silver-blue eyes. You smile, the sentiment still bringing a blush to your face even months later.

“Love you too, Buck.” You kiss him again but drop your head back to the mattress, pointing at him. “But we are gonna have a serious talk about your food preparation skills.”

He chuckles and snuggles into you, face in your neck and bulging arms around you. “Whatever you say, dollface.”

[evanstarff]

Puttin’ On The Risque

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 3450

Summary: Bucky Barnes takes you dancing tonight – sort of.

Warnings: FLUFF, swearing, spicy innuendos, terrible puns, lightly implied smut, 80s music – what could be better!

A/N: This is for Bread Queen Hannah @kentuckybarnes​’ 3K Writing Challenge! THIS IS SO LATE I’M SO SORRY. You're among the hardest working, most brilliant fic writers with the patience of a saint – we mortals do not deserve you. My prompt for this challenge was “jitterbug”.

---------

Death came knocking on a Thursday as Bucky groaned, his phone gone stupid, wailing some brassy tune from a time he half-remembered and dreamt of once before.

“Why,” you whimpered, soft and sleepy, burying yourself deeper into sweet swell of his shoulders.

“Hang on,” he whispered, croaking sleep, the glint of metal fumbled about for the shrieking slab on the bedside. He frowned, recognition clearing his consciousness.

Sam.

Goddamn bird.

Bucky turned the phone facedown, clear annoyance through his mouth as the wailing stalled. It was too cold anyway, and you were so warm against his back, sheets all tucked about yours, skin pressed to him, cheeks, nose, lips soft on his skin, legs tangled with his own. He wrapped your arms closer, tighter around his waist, brought your fingers to his lips, and pressed a smile into them.

“Go back to sleep, darlin’,” he mumbled, breathing slow, restful and waited for slumber to come.

He felt your palms moved down the hard planes of his abdomen, relishing the pathway of curls that drifted lower, slower still in comfort, tightening all the same.

You shifted, just a little, skin sliding ever so carefully along skin. “I am sleeping,” you replied.

Bucky huffed, laughter soft in his throat. “Sure, darlin’,” he whispered, turning to face you. He watched your eyes open slow, how the early morning light dallied about your sleepy face, then cupped your cheeks and kissed you sweet.

His phone wailed again and the soft look in his eyes shifted to pure, concentrated murder, and Bucky near threw the device clear across the room.

You were laughing now, eyes scrunched up in glee, sheets mussed, and reached over to the bedside to pick it up.

“Mornin’ Sam,” you grinned, voice fully awake and downright chatty in its tone. Bucky grumbled, audibly annoyed, and buried his mess of hair , sleep-drunk beneath the pillows. “Yeah, he’s here – busy in the bathroom. Yes, uh-huh,” your fingers were drifting across the skin on his back, the filigree pink of his shoulder, sending a delicious shiver through his spine. “OK, sure – got it. See you then.” You hung up, shoulders stretching, slow smile on your pretty face.

Bucky popped his head out, clear annoyance split across his face. “What are we seeing?”

“Got new intel,” you replied, stretching, then shifted to move from the bed. “Mission briefing in twenty minutes.”

“Hey, hey.” His voice was delicious, hands delicious on you now, your skin, your waist, wrapped about the small of your back, all warm with longing, pulling you beneath the covers, his eyes all bright and blue with mischief on yours. “Going so soon?”

You smiled, sweet and lovely. “Twenty minutes, Bucky.”

“I only need five,” he breathed and put his mouth on you in the most delicious of ways.

---

It took twenty-three minutes for Bucky to get halfway through his third coffee – the first two guzzled between the kitchen and the doorway to the briefing room, the second finagled from Clint’s half-so-clever fingers as he flashed a grin to the stone-faced archer.

Clint’s face was mutinous, deep in contemplation on how one might disarm a metal-armed soldier without wasting an arrow.

“It’s Saturday,” Bucky grumbled. “It’s ten past seven on a Saturday and there’s a briefing.”

Draped on the leather seats, leaning back from the desk, you were a sensible distance from Bucky and his now heated gaze – a distraction nonetheless and the opposite of what he needed to concentrate on the briefing being dealt in the easy, casual delivery of one Sam Wilson.

“There’s a rich dude coming to this other rich dude’s party,” he was saying, drawing up the blue-burned maps, the lines cleanly etched through space between them and right across the expanse of the table. “We just need to get in, get the intel, and go home – good?”

You collected your bearings, committing the maps to your memory – the sewerage, plumbing, internal walls and listened to Sam’s instructions on who, how, and where each of you were to station yourselves.

Bucky’s gaze was on you – distracting, delicious, and clearly preoccupied from everything that should be considered important. There was some talking and some more banter, the usual affairs, the way you liked to pull and tease the little details of the mission, poking tiny little holes where few saw it least. Background noise the rest of it in Bucky’s mind and how he adored the way your own mind worked. That said, planning only got them so far and perhaps that was a lesson discovered out of the many missions that blew up in all the unpredictable ways – indeed, someone said once that their very existence invited challenge.

But this was meant to be a simple mission. Or so Bucky gleaned somewhere in the shared words of him and Sam and you and Nat and–

“So who are you going as?”

“Prince – obviously,” Sam scoffed. “Next question.”

Comprehension poured ice through Bucky’s body, and he felt the blood drained from his face as his brain caught up at last.

“Wait, what? I thought it was just a party,” Bucky swore he was listening before, somewhere between the tactical entry, the four guards likely to be stationed at the fourth exit, and securing the codes between tonight’s hours. “Why are you going as Prince?”

“Why not?” Clint chuckled. “What, he doesn’t seem the part?”

“Why are we going as anything?” The alarm in Bucky’s voice was becoming brighter now, a little higher pitched and mildly afraid. “Don’t tell me–”

“Costume party, James,” Nat finished for him, her voice easy and mostly very amused. “It’s an 80s-themed gala.”

“I don’t remember the eighties,” Bucky huffed, face pure indignation and mild embarrassment at not taking on this little detail amidst the rest of the verbal garble on logistics. “Can’t we pass as waitstaff like we always do?”

“And draw attention to ourselves while everyone else is dressed up?” you teased, face bright with glee. “Not this time.”

Clint grinned, pressing his lips to his coffee cup and thoroughly enjoyed the wide-eyed fear growing behind one former assassin’s eyes, while Sam glanced across his team – amused, amused, amused, and extra doubly amused at the soldier sulking in his chair.

“Meet you at the front hangar in ten hours,” he instructed, watching Nat and Clint share a look of amused sorts, half-thrown words and tactics. “Eighties’ best – nothing less!”

The three of them vacated the briefing room and you may have followed if not for the disgruntled epitome of wet socks still sitting at the table, rifling through the plans of blue and gleaming white.

“Unfuckingbelievable,” Bucky was muttering in disbelief, mouth pressed into a line of discontent matching that of a small child who’d lost a badly placed bet.

“Come on, darlin’,” you said, the lilt on the moniker sweet and delightful as if he’d said it himself. “It won’t be that bad.” Hands cupped his face, measuring his gaze with your own, and he drew his hand up to match yours, fingers intertwining.

“You sure about that, darlin’?” The same lilt on those lips and you smiled, easy and sweet.

“I’ll make sure of it,” you promised, and kissed him, mouth all soft and delightful so that Bucky with his hands, his heart were thoroughly distracted for the next ten hours – more or less and then some.

---

Bucky liked to dance – at least he did once, a long time ago with steps that went forwards and backwards, swinging about with swishy skirts and sweet smiles he often kissed off sometime between the charm and the chattanooga, and always in the hurried shadows, the sweetened tobacco dreams of a leather booth or between the midnight sheets.

This kind of dance? A monstrosity of discomfort, zombie legs, undead hands – Bucky had nightmares that looked better than this and he half-wished his eyes rolled back further than one may have considered natural, so he didn’t have to look at the patrons of the overpriced, overshot by ostentation, oscillating between bad sense and bad taste as the song changed to some jagged keyboard about waking up before going.

“Come on, James,” Nat was saying, surveying the crowd with those all-seeing emerald eyes, fingertips smoothing down the lines of her costume – serene with her black elevated hair, black elevated shoulders, red lips, and cigarette holder, long and black between her fingers to match her pencilled skirt. “You used to dance once, remember?”

“We did the jitterbug very differently back then,” he replied dryly, mouth lined in grim resignation and wishing with every fibre of his being that the mission would go faster. You’d tried to wrangle him into Bill and Ted’s excellent costume, but stubborn soldiers weren’t your forte and neither was most clothing outside the realm of black and darker black when it came to him.

“Where’s Prince?” you asked, slipping your arm into his own.

“Taking his sweet time,” Bucky said, adjusting the cleaned up version of black leather on leather – a lost boy, you decided, kissing him sweet and stupid the hour before, fingers teasing his hair just so.

“Says who, Robocop?” Sam’s voice came clear through the comms, his gaze cutting through the crowd as sharp as the purple suit he’d fashioned on for the evening.

Bucky’s face changed to some vein of mild annoyance. “Wanna come over here and tell me that, sweetheart?”

“Maybe after you finish your part of the mission, Terminator.” Clint now, floating around somewhere in the higher angles of the grand mansion. Bird’s eye view, dressed like an air-conditioning repair man in his beige overalls, gaze drawn on the target, located and fixed.

Patrons were all around him, colours of the specified decade very extremely loud in his eyes and soft as baby breath in his ears, the target closer to Sam’s left and a little far and away as Nat caught his eye and made her way through the crowd to him, a deep, dark undercurrent through the confetti-lit and pulsing bodies.

The two targets stood out most obviously, nothing ostentatious about them despite their grand tendencies and the intel telling the team otherwise. Opposite sides of the ballroom, movements tracked and trained as Nat charmed them, luring them through her irresistible web. You glanced at Bucky, sharing the noted cues of the next stage of the brief, as Sam and Nat drew the target away, all charm and nonchalance easing through them.

There were four guards at the intended room, its doors grand, space fashioned with marbled delights and a fern or twelve on either side, gold, green and garish and smelling of too much money and not enough cents.

“Hello boys.”

Bucky and his flirting words, disarming in his delivery, his careful, deliberate smile matching his careful, deliberate blows. One fallen in the space of comprehension as another half-yelled, breath cut off by your thighs, a turn, a swing, flattened on the floor now, your arm wrapped tight at the muscled neck, cutting off circulation to the brain just enough for the body to limp still.

Two others, weaponry half-drawn, eyes flashed to you, to him, and a well-oiled machine brought them down too – you and Bucky moving in tandem, his strength on par with your agile movements, leaping as you lunged, grabbing their pistols, clocking them over the head as you brought them down to the floor, grateful now for those extra paces Nat put you through over the weeks on the mat.

The music had changed sometime in the last few minutes, the lone saxophone whispering carelessly somewhere in the distance, and you were thankful for its distracting nature while you shoved the unconscious four behind the ferns.

“I like the way you move,” Bucky offered, helping you up and curling a stray hair away from your face, his eyes glittering in a renewed kind of way. Something about watching the way you fought did many things to him, most of them concentrated in his heart, the other most between his thighs.

“Which part did you like best?” you asked, moving a little closer, your lips a little closer still, breath on his own, and he could smell you, the adrenaline ripe and delicious in the air, the scent of you, hot and delightful and electrifying, and perhaps he could have stolen a moment in these little slivers of time before the next part of the mission, with you so close, so sweet–

The grand marble door opened and then, “Hey lovebirds.”

Sam in all his princely attire on the other side of the door.

Bucky was going to kill him.

“Quit macking and let’s finish this,” Sam said, rolling his eyes, Nat beside him, smiling sweetly at you, then Bucky as Clint dropped down behind you both, his job well done and dusted.

“Were you up there staring all this time?” you asked, following Sam’s lead into the next room as Clint shut the door behind you.

“Nothing worth staring at, love,” Clint teased back, wrapping a firm arm around a widow clad in black. “Not with you two anyway.”

“Where are the targets?” you asked, eyes sharp around the room, taking in the innards of terribly chosen artworks and decor.

“Right where we left them,” Nat replied, easing the next door before her open with her feet to reveal the two targets tied and taped together.

The suits were glancing up at the super soldiers lined up before them, eyes wide and afraid. Indeed, it must have been quite the sight, being held hostage by four figures in costume.

“You know,” Clint drawled, leaning in a little to the closest man. “They might take us more seriously if we dressed a little more seriously.”

Nat chuckled, though Bucky was unimpressed. “Maybe,” he was saying. “Doesn’t mean they’re not useful.”

It was a few well-slung phrases, staredowns between soldier to hostage, and a little frightened in the pants by one of them, and it was all of seven minutes when they finally received their intel, captured and secured by the turn of a glowing kimoyo bead on Sam’s wrist.

“You won’t get away with this!” Villains. So comical.

“Sure, darlin’,” you replied, putting your face real close to one of them before locking his head around your arm in a rear-neck choke – he fell asleep very soonafter as Nat did the same.

“Reckon the party will miss them?” Bucky asked, lifting one of them with ease over his shoulder. The final stage was to deposit them into their guesthouse, surrounded by a few too many drinks for housekeeping to find the next morning.

“Nope – took care of that too.” Sam replied tapping a secret pocket in his cleverly fashioned suit. “So I say we enjoy the party for a little while longer.”

Nat laughed. “Sure, maybe another hour before those two wake up,” she replied.

“No dramas,” Sam shrugged, pulling at his sleeves and his face was now full of delight. “FBI have their coordinates, so they’ll take care of it.”

“Party!” Clint was grinning, lips brushed soft against Nat’s temple and she shrugged.

“Sure, I can do an hour,” she said, glancing at you, then Bucky. “Coming?”

“After we dump these two,” you replied, lifting the other man, grunting, though he was lighter than the one on Bucky’s shoulder.

“See you in a bit then,” Sam replied, moving away and closing the door behind him.

Bucky drew up the maps through his mind, photographic memory still sharp as ever. He hinted towards the opposite wall, a click of a wall that opened and led away into another part of the grand mansion, the pulsing music of some battlefield of love thundering through the walls.

“Nice song,” he mused, half-humming as you trudged behind him towards the guesthouse location.

“Because we are young?” you replied, smile half-turned and dazzling.

“Don’t even start,” he said, face disgruntled.

“But we’re standing heartache to heartache,” you continued, a little giddy at poking a bear if you were honest.

“No promises, darlin’,” he replied and you laughed, the feeling cresting sweet through your chest.

“No demands either, clearly.”

You’d reached the entrance of the guesthouse by now, heaving with relief though you were careful not to make it too obvious. The bed was made and the views were stunning, but then again, what did you expect for a mansion of this size.

Bucky dropped the first target on the bed, fashioned the second one somewhat nearby and went to the trolley, ladened high with an assortment of drinks and coloured liquor. You darted about, one glass, then a second and third, fourth one over there, another glass here, half-mixed, half-sloshed together and then you both stood back, surveying the handiwork.

“Not bad,” Bucky was saying, turning to you feeling alone with you for the first time that night.

“For a battlefield, yeah,” you replied, and he groaned so loudly, he wouldn’t have been surprised if the targets had woken up.

You were grinning, perhaps a little too gleefully, jibe at making him try to enjoy the party despite its terrifically terrible origins.

“I’m going to kill you,” he replied, grabbing your hand and pressing your fingers to his lips, as he paused, bargaining against his better judgement as his eyes narrowed. “Let’s go before I give you up.”

“Never!” you gasped, mockingly and shedding peals of laughter as you let him lead you back towards the party, closing the guesthouse door with a click.

---

Bucky was staring at himself in the bathroom mirror, the party garb discarded as you and him called in for an early night. Mission accomplished, no further requirements as Nat, Clint, and Sam had decided to stay out a little while longer – an evening adventure to find America’s greatest hotdog before midnight on a Friday.

He was fresh from a shower, beard wet, hair slicked dark about his neck and you were moving, coming up behind him, your face rested on metal skin, and watching him in the mirror.

“So,” you began, voice sweet with suggestion. “Not a fan of the jitterbug?”

“Not a fan of this one, no,” he replied, slow smile on his face.

“I can show you another kind,” you replied softly, eyes going bright and hot, and Bucky half-growled, spinning to face you, kiss you, his beard all scratching and sweet on your own, grown coarse in the half-day of morning til night.

“Oh really?” he was saying, drawling somewhere between having his mouth on your lips, the careful line of your jaw, behind your ear, and a thrill shivered sweet down your spine. “What kind might that be?”

“Can you spare a few hours?” you managed, half-driven mad with anticipation and almost deciding to throw away your newly put-together plan.

Bucky drew back, mouth pressed in contemplation, wry look in his pretty face. “What else will it cost me?”

“Aside from a few hours?” you prompted, hands tracing his beard, your eyes following your fingers almost deliberately. “Maybe a change of clothes, tomorrow night... “ Fingers curled through his beard, sending a shiver through his chin to his chest.

“And the beard,” Bucky surmised at last, still only half-trusting on yours, though he was happy to stay here and not investigate this new kind bug you were considering. “You know we just got back right? Back here? Where there’s a bed, no fancy dress, no missions?”

“True,” you considered, trying to ignore the way his hands drifted slow about your waist, pressing soft on your skin in the way he knew you liked it best. “But this is a one night only affair.”

“Says who?” His words were half-hearted, full-tempted, his lips drifting about on your neck, your shoulders, lifting you just a little, tilting you against him just so…

“Promise I’ll make it worth your while,” you reasoned, words soft against his temple, his cheek and you drew back to look at him, full with affection and those eyes he adored.

Bucky considered it for a moment, noted his decision-making process was near impossible when it came to you, the consideration a slowdance through his mind like some acoustic version of a song from a long time before.

“And when do you intend to fulfill this promise, darlin’?” he whispered, decision made and really, he’d have done anything you asked.

“Hmm,” you replied, kissing him slowly, sweetly. “How does now sound?”

Now was just about fine, Bucky decided, lifting you easily, kissing you easier still, and your mouth was all giggly, hot and sweet on him and deep into the delicious night.

---

Masterlist here.

[moonbeambucky]

Helpless

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Word Count: 5298 Warnings: fluff

Summary: Bucky doesn’t realize that the more he tries to be helpful the more he makes his girl feel helpless.

A/N: This is my submission for @kentuckybarnes Hannah’s 3k Writing Challenge. My prompt was Character A is told to stay in the car while Character B confronts a villain. Things go downhill. Character A drives the car into the villain. But didn’t leave the car. Thank you as always to my Sam 💕@buckyofthemyscira for beta reading! gif not mine

The story of Bucky Barnes is filled with immense sadness weaving its ways throughout the pages of his life. From Howling Commando to Hydra assassin, his mind was scrubbed clean of what made him; his memories, his morals. Bucky was forced to commit unspeakable acts, ones that keep him up at night trembling with guilt. He was given a new life while being robbed of his old one but now that he’s finally free of the tentacled grasp Hydra held him in, Bucky is working on becoming himself again, and for all the harm he’s done to the world he wants to give back and help.

The desire to help others took root within him at a young age. He learned from his father George, who was always quick to assist the neighbors on their friendly Brooklyn block, and Bucky experienced firsthand how good it felt to help others.

When Mrs. Davis from down the block couldn’t leave the house much anymore Bucky took it upon himself to fetch her groceries or mow the lawn. He never asked for anything in return for his service but she insisted, paying him a little something so he could treat himself to an ice cream. Instead, Bucky used the money to make sure the alley cats had a fresh dish of milk and cans of tuna each day. If helping was the lottery then Bucky hit the jackpot when he befriended Steve Rogers.

Steve became more like a brother and Bucky had his hands full looking after him. You see, Steve was just like Bucky when it came to helping others except the little punk didn’t know his limits. He picked his battles, every single one, no matter who was on the other end. Bucky would have to step in every time and throw a punch or take one; better him than Steve who would crumble at the slightest breeze.

Bucky couldn’t fight all of Steve’s battles though, but he was always there to help Steve get well from his latest bout with any and every germ that came his way. His poor friend was a scrawny thing, with an immune system more fragile than a butterfly’s wings. Bucky ran all over Brooklyn to pick up Steve’s prescriptions and even learned to make his mother’s homemade chicken soup recipe, anticipating he might be spending the rest of his life making it for Steve.

Helping was always in Bucky’s nature but when the war broke out he questioned his morals. Part of him wanted to sign up, his country needed help and he was ready to fight, but with his father no longer around it didn’t feel right to leave his ma and sisters. In the end Bucky decided to stick around, continue to help his family and Steve until he was drafted.

The fate of the world was safe, for today at least, and while Bucky had helped secure it from the threat of other worldly invaders once more he wanted to use his free time to help on a smaller level.

This is how he found himself at a local Habitat for Humanity worksite near the compound. There were a few dozen people crowding around the open space, with bright smiles and excited chatter filling the air until a skeletal man with a bullhorn calls everyone’s attention. Bucky keeps his distance in the back. Just because he wanted to help doesn’t mean he’s fully ready to integrate himself into society again.

Bucky prefers anonymity and after years of covert operations and life on the run he wears his best disguise to hide in plain sight, a baseball cap that casts a shadow over his features. His long dark hair is tied in a low bun at the base of neck and recognizable metal hand is covered by a construction glove.

He isn’t fully anonymous though, a sticker on his chest states his name but going by James provides him enough distance from his true identity. Bucky doesn’t want any publicity, even if it would counteract the daily editorials that criticize his morals. It’s another struggle he carries, learning to ignore the faceless voices that speak out against him. He’ll never please everyone but by helping, no matter what the cause, he knows he’s doing something good.

Bucky’s squinting from the sunlight, already strong despite the early morning. He pulls his cap lower to block the shine from his eyes while listening to the man with the bullhorn enthusiastically pump up the crowd. He introduces himself as Scully, a nickname Bucky supposes as his sticker says Ed. Could be a last name too though. Sometimes Bucky doesn’t mind being called Barnes. It reminds him of his time in the army, where he was fighting with one goal in mind, to help.

He shrugs off his memories, not wanting to think about what happened after the army. He regrets wearing a sweatshirt today as he’s already growing warm but unfortunately it’s the best way to hide that arm of his.

The group breaks with a round of applause and cheers as it’s time to commence work. The foundation for the house was already laid for them so everyone begins working on the assembling the framing. Bucky quickly swaps his baseball cap for a hard hat and walks to the truck with a few others ready to unload the lumber.

A burly man walks up the steel ramp on the back of the truck. His boots clank on the metal that shakes to support his large frame as he unlatches the door, allowing the foresty scent of fresh cut spruce to penetrate the crisp morning air.

Groups of two travel in and out of the truck carrying long beams and planks. Bucky grabs more than double, giving a simple nod to the burly man Frank, a silent nod that he’s more than capable of handling that amount on his own. Bucky could actually carry more, a lot more, but his one man show is already drawing enough attention, he decides he doesn’t need any more.

He follows the direction of another man who’s shorter than Frank but just as round, with a thick salt and pepper beard. Bucky drops off the planks at different workstations where others are reviewing the specs for measurements.

The air filled with a mix of sound as people begin to work; the dull thudding of nails being hammered down, power tools buzzing away. It brings him back to childhood when he and Steve took the train into Manhattan to watch as construction crews began erecting the Chrysler Building. The idea of having the tallest building in the world in their backyard fascinated the young boys who never imagined the sites they would grow to see.

He’s pulled from his memory by the shrill buzzing of an electric saw. It pierces his ear oddly as Bucky can hear the faintest wobble coming from a blade. He shuts his eyes to concentrate, waiting for the sound again until he’s certain of where it’s coming from.

A woman is focused on her work, gripping the handle of the miter saw and guiding it down to slice through the wood on the table. Bucky’s lips twitch to a smile as he watches her using the machine without hesitation.

The wobbly sound has increased in the span of the few seconds he spent ogling her and before the woman begins again Bucky calls out to stop her.

“There’s somethin’ wrong with the blade,” he declared after he caught her attention, walking closer towards her.

Between the glare of the sun and the protective goggles covering her eyes Bucky can’t read her expression. He worries she might be insulted, if in some way she interprets his concern as a question on her capability.

Bucky panicked, “I-It’s not you, I promise.” He flashed a nervous smile. “I… it’s just that I heard it in the blade, it sounded…”

“...Off,” she finished his sentence. “You’re right, I even felt it in that last cut.”

She removed her safety goggles and used her forearm to dab at the beads of sweat that collected on her forehead. Chewing on her bottom lip she stared bewilderedly at the faulty machine.

Bucky was staring as well, entranced by the woman before him. Now that he had a clearer look at her features his heart began doing flips in his chest. Her eyes were beautiful, sparkling and full of life.

The hard hat and baggy t-shirt added to her true beauty, the goodness of her soul that was eager to get back to work, to helping just as he wanted to. She scanned the machine for an obvious cause of the problem, wondering out loud what it could be.

Bucky found the nerve to speak up. “The bolt on the blade probably came loose. I can help if you want...” He smiled timidly as his eyes traveled to the name tag on her shirt, “…Y/N.”

The moment her name fell from his lips Bucky felt as if he was always meant to say it. Like pollen floating in the air her name was carried to his heart making it bloom with attraction.

She accepted his help with an enthusiastic smile spread widely across her face and Bucky was blinded once more but not by the sun. The light that radiated from Y/N’s gorgeous face was stronger and more beautiful than any star in the galaxy.

With a spring in his step he went to find some tools to help, anxious to get back to Y/N. By the time he returned she unplugged the machine and put her palm out, waiting for him to hand over the tools. Bucky was surprised, not expecting she only needed his help to fetch the tools.

“I’m not helpless you know,” Y/N playfully teased, smirking as she pulled back the blade guard and began to lock the saw into place.

Bucky smiled watching her work, unable to contain his smile and the bubbling feelings within of the woman who was as capable as she was beautiful.

Y/N let out a frustrated groan as she tried to remove the bolt that secured the blade. She twisted the wrench but it wouldn’t budge. Bucky was certainly strong enough to force the movement but he didn’t want to intrude, not unless she asked.

He didn’t have time to wait for Y/N’s permission as she used all her might to twist the wrench, forcing the bolt to fly off. The shaky movement caused the askew blade to come off its mount and nearly onto Y/N’s hands if Bucky hadn’t lurched forward and stopped it. The blade sat in the palm of his gloved hand, the metal underneath unharmed by the sharp object.

“Are you alright?” he asked as a visibly shaken Y/N took deep breaths.

“Yeah, ‘m good. I shouldn’t have forced it,” she huffed in disbelief, thinking about what could have happened.

Bucky placed the blade back and tightened the bolt properly, ensuring it wouldn’t wobble anymore. “It should be good now.” Bucky offered a proud smile, knowing he was able to help her.

Y/N returned the smile as she replaced the other screws so she could begin working again. “Thanks Bucky.”

The curve of his lips dropped down with confusion His name tag said James. He is supposed to be James. Incognito. He had a foolproof baseball cap. His eyes stirred with panic but the sound of her voice stilled his mind.

“Were you hiding or something?” Her tone was playful and the smile she gave him helped settle his nerves even more. Bucky was wrong to think he could go unnoticed, then again she was the only one to speak up.

“In a way,” he responded, “I wanna help, don’t want no fanfare about it.”

Y/N knew what the press reported on James “Bucky” Barnes but in all the articles she’s read none of them ever detailed the softness in his eyes. Seventy years of torture were held back behind a delicate wall of swirling blue emotion and yet he’s standing in front of her, stronger than she could ever imagine had she faced what he had gone through.

“Your secret is safe with me,” she winked.

A giggle fell past her lips and Bucky felt his knees buckle at the sound. From the moment it left her lips and floated to his ears the decision cemented itself within his heart, he would do anything to hear her laughter again.

Bucky continued the heavy lifting all day but the greatest strength he displayed was when he asked Y/N out for coffee and surprisingly she said yes.

They met up on Saturday afternoon after spending a few days together at the worksite. Y/N groaned as her stiff muscles carried her to the front of the coffee shop. Bucky stood outside looking incredibly handsome in a light denim jacket with a blue shirt that was sure to bring out the color of his eyes. His hair was loose with rich brown strands falling into his face as he pulled his phone out from his pocket and checked it.  

She stopped to watch him, with a smile growing on her face at how nervous Bucky looked. She felt the same way, with the butterflies in her stomach adding to the aches and pains of her sore body.

Y/N was just as surprised when Bucky asked her to meet. She never imagined the day she would run into an actual Avenger let alone exchange numbers with them. With a deep breath she began walking towards him, trying to contain her nerves.

Bucky’s eyes lit up when he saw her. She strolled towards him in an oversized sweater and leggings that clung to her frame. Her hair was freed from the hard hat he was accustomed to seeing her in. He already thought she was beautiful in the sawdust covered clothes she wore and now his heart began to race at the sight of her.

Neither knew what greeting was appropriate as they said hello which led to an awkward should they, should they not kiss on the cheek or hug. She giggled again and Bucky sighed with content.

As Bucky held the door open for Y/N he heard a faint groan as she stepped up into the shop and proceeded to ask if she was alright.

She smiled at his question, “Yes, thank you. Just a little achy.”

Bucky smiled remembering the work she put in at the site, never shying away from any project. Y/N even tried to help lift the support beam that outweighed her many times over. Her disappointed pout was adorable, even if realistically it was a job meant for a crew made up of the strongest people. Bucky winked at her bringing the smile back to her face as they shared an unspoken truth, Bucky could have easily lifted the beam alone.

Hard labor was nothing for Bucky, in fact, he much preferred it over Steve’s intense training drills. He didn’t technically have a problem with those either but he’d rather go back into cyro than hear Sam’s whining every day.

Y/N would have more of a reason to whine over Sam who should be used to physical demands that come with being an Avenger by now, but even she isn’t. He can read the pain on her face, the tight smile and stiff inhales as she reads over the menu. After all the hard work she did she deserves to rest.

Bucky pulled out a chair for her from the nearest table. “Why don’t you take a seat and I’ll grab our orders,” he offered, feeling happy to help her.

They sat for hours getting to know each other, sharing a variety of sweet pastries. Bucky walked Y/N home and when it was time to say goodbye, something neither were keen on, they once again found themselves unsure of what they should do.

The caffeine searing through their veins combined with the growing affection they felt made both Bucky and Y/N extremely nervous. He was a blushing mess and she chewed on her lip, admiring his features by the golden glow of the setting sun.

Y/N took initiative, leaning forward with the intention of kissing him on the cheek. Bucky acted as well, excitedly lifting his arms up so he could wrap them around her for a hug. Unfortunately they did this at the same time and Bucky’s metal hand accidentally smacked Y/N’s cheek.

His heart stopped in that moment as Y/N held her hand firmly to her cheek. Bucky wanted to run away, to mutter an apology before he goes back into hiding, never to leave again. Negative thoughts swirl around his mind like a tornado making him question why he thought he would ever be good enough for her, telling him the world doesn’t want his help, that he only brings destruction and pain with every step he takes.

Suddenly the thoughts stop, swept away by the most beautiful sound in the world, Y/N’s giggles.

“Ouch,” she chuckled, rubbing the sting from her cheek while smiling at him.

The tension in Bucky’s shoulders released, allowing him to exhale. Still he apologized profusely but Y/N’s finger on his lips told him to stop.

“I know how you can make it up to me,” she purred, flashing a coy smile as her eyes traveled to his lips and back up again.

The lust in her eyes was evident and for once Bucky’s head and his heart were on the same page. He leaned in slowly as his tongue swept across his lips to wet them. The gap between them closed and Y/N felt his breath fanning against her skin.

Her nerves tingled with anticipation and the moment their lips met it felt like each one had turned into a firework, exploding with happiness. Y/N pulled apart first when she needed air though Bucky would have gladly given her every breath his lungs have yet to take.

“That’s better,” she sighed a heaving breath as she rested her forehead against his.

Bucky licked his lips again, tasting the sweetness of dessert lingering on her tongue though he was certain she tasted sweeter. His eyes crinkled as a smile stretched across his face and he whispered to her, “Happy to help.”

That day was the beginning of their relationship and Bucky couldn’t believe how lucky he was. He never imagined he would be romancing someone again and now that Y/N was with him he went above and beyond to make sure she knew just how much he loved and appreciated her.

Bucky would always be sure to hold doors open for Y/N, or pull out the chair for her to sit. Sometimes he would even help her assist her with putting on or taking off her coat; he couldn’t help it, hearing the voice of his father in his head, lessons he was taught from a young age about proper etiquette with women.

Y/N never had anyone treat her as kindly as Bucky did, always going out of his way to ensure she was properly taken care of. Sure, some of his sweet gestures may have been a little old fashioned but she understood Bucky was brought up in a different time. Besides, it was better than being treated poorly so for a while she let him woo her the way he thought was best.

After a few months of dating Bucky’s kindness started to become a little cumbersome. He would go out of his way to “help” Y/N even though she didn’t need it, like all the times he stopped her from putting on a necklace, insisting that he had to be the one to fasten the clasp even though she was more than capable of doing it herself. Or the many times when she would be washing the dishes and Bucky nearly pushed her out of the way so he could be the one to do them claiming he didn’t want her hands to prune.

Each time Bucky took over doing something for Y/N her frustration grew but she bit her tongue. She knew how fragile Bucky’s self-esteem was and she really didn’t want to hurt him. Bucky felt so good about himself when he did things for her, it was written all over his face so she stayed quiet and let it fester, ignoring the problem like a rumbling volcano.

It was a rough day. The moment Y/N got to work there were problems starting with the first phone all. A client spent twenty minutes screaming at her and while she tried several times to get a word in he wouldn’t let her. Instead she had to wait for his rant to finish before she could give him a simple solution that would have lowered both their blood pressure within a few minutes.

She was on edge from the call and because of that she knocked over her mug of coffee, spilling all of important documents, some of which now required new signatures from other clients who weren’t happy about having to come in again. By the end of the day Y/N was near tears when her boss called her in to talk, reprimanding her for indiscretions during the day.

Bucky was in her apartment waiting for Y/N to come home from work. He couldn’t wait to spend the night with her cuddling together and watching movies knowing in the morning he would be leaving for a mission, the first one he’s been on since they started dating.

The door burst open and Y/N stomped harshly on the wood floors, kicking one heel off wildly and groaning in frustration as she had to bend down and pull the other one off, throwing it hastily against the wall.

Bucky heard the commotion from the other room and when he walked to the living room he saw Y/N kneeling on the floor crying. The shoe had dented the wall, breaking the plaster. Bucky knelt down beside her and Y/N threw herself into his chest, crying even harder when she felt his arms wrap around her frame.

“It’s okay…” he whispered in her ear, placing a kiss to her crown. “Don’t worry about the wall. I’ll fix it.”

His words dried her tears but not because of his offer to help. The broken wall symbolized more than what it actually was. This minor inconvenience was the breaking of the own wall she had built up behind months of anger and resentment towards Bucky.

With a shaky breath Y/N pushed herself away from Bucky and stood up. She gripped the edge of the table to hold onto something as she unleashed everything that was buried inside of her.

“I don’t want your help! I’m so tired of it, Bucky! It’s not about the wall, I can fix it my damn self!” she screamed.

Bucky stood up slowly, with confusion twisting at his features.

“You make me feel helpless! You never allow me to do anything. I can do dishes, I can carry bags. I can put my own damn coat on!”

Bucky opened his mouth but he couldn’t form any words. He was hurt. Everything he did for Y/N was from the heart, he didn’t realize how she felt about it. Maybe he was wrong about everything, that he was never ready for a relationship, that Y/N never loved him.

As Bucky stood silent Y/N saw the pain swirling in his eyes and realizing everything she said in her outburst made her feel worse.

She broke down again, “I’m so sorry Bucky. I love you, I mean it, I love you from the bottom of my heart. This is all my fault. I should have said something earlier. I never m-meant…” she whimpered, wiping the tears from her cheeks and sniffling.

“No,” he said softly, “I’m sorry. It’s been so long since…” Bucky trails off but they both know what he meant. “You mean the world to me doll, I thought if I could make anything easier on ya I would do it.”

“I don’t mind the help I just wish you would ask me sometimes,” she smiled sadly.

Y/N outstretched her hand towards Bucky and let out a breath of relief when he took it. She brought him closer and pressed herself against him again, relaxing as he embraced her fully.

They spent that evening together just as Bucky originally planned but now with a better understanding of each other’s emotions.

Every day for the month Bucky was gone Y/N was worried sick so the moment her phone lit up with a message announcing his arrival she screamed with joy. He arrived at her door a few hours later, holding a bouquet of beautiful flowers she did not care one bit about. Y/N jumped into his arms kissing him senseless. She could take care of herself in many ways but when it came to Bucky Barnes in her heart she knew she was certainly helpless.

They spent the weekend together hardly ever leaving her bed. Bucky opened up as much as he could to her about the mission which was a bust. They either had bad intel or their target knew they were coming and he disappeared. It was frustrating but Y/N’s soft lips against his skin made him quickly forget his worries.

For their one year anniversary Bucky planned a special night out to celebrate with Y/N. They both dressed nicely for the not too fancy but still classy enough restaurant they had reservations for. Bucky picked her up in a vintage car thanks to Tony and they enjoyed an intimate dinner.

Bucky pulled out a small gift from his suit pocket and handed it to Y/N across the table. The candlelight illuminated her beautiful smile as she carefully unwrapped the gift to reveal a jewelry box. Inside was a necklace with a small silver pendant in the shape of a house with a heart cut out in the center.

“Because we met that day building a house together and ever since you’ve held my heart and become my home.”

“It’s beautiful Bucky,” she beamed. “Will you put it on me?”

Her head tilts to the side as she smiles softly towards him and Bucky happily obliged. When the necklace was secured he couldn’t help but press his lips at the junction of her neck and shoulder making Y/N squirm and giggle. It was definitely time to leave the restaurant and neither could wait to get home.

On the drive home Bucky turned to face Y/N but instead his attention was on the car beside him and the driver that looked suspiciously like the target from their failed mission a few months back. He tried not to be seen by the man he believed to be Andrei Rudaski telling Y/N to stay low as he carefully followed the car.

While stopped at a light Bucky confirmed the target thanks to a signifying tattoo on his neck. He followed him for a few more blocks as he debated on calling the team. Bucky could probably take this guy down without making a scene but he didn’t want to endanger Y/N.

Andrei pulled over beside a warehouse on a quiet street that was mostly dark except for a few scattered street lamps. Bucky parked across the street, wishing he didn’t have a car that could blend better with the other empty cars along the road.

As Andrei opened the door to get out Bucky handed Y/N his phone. “Call Steve, tell him where we are and tell ‘im Andrei Rudaski is here.”

“What about you?” she worried.

“I’ll be alright doll. Just call Steve and stay in the car.”

With a quick kiss to her forehead Bucky took off. She chewed her bottom lip nervously as she watched his frame disappear in the alleyway by the warehouse though his shadow was visible on the wall for a bit longer thanks to security lighting mounted on the building.

For a while there was nothing but the sound of the occasional car pass by until an unmistakable gunshot rang out. Shadows on the wall began to dance in tussle and Y/N heard voices growing louder. She clutched her necklace when she thought she heard Bucky, more specifically the sound of him groaning in pain. Bucky was her home too and she couldn’t sit by and let him be injured or worse.

Sliding into the driver’s seat Y/N turned the key and hoped Bucky’s attacker was too preoccupied to hear the sound of the purring engine come to life. With her seatbelt fastened she grabbed the wheel and beelined right towards the alley.

Y/N spotted Bucky on the ground with a man standing above him, aiming a gun. With her foot slammed against the pedal she sped straight down with Andrei in her path.

It was surreal to feel everything happen at once and yet in Y/N’s mind each event seemed to play out in slow motion. She remembered the surprised look on Andrei’s face, the bright headlines that turned the darkness of his blue eyes into pinpoints that stared her down. He tried to aim his gun at her but she hit him first, the sound of the metal frame crashing against flesh and bone will be seared into his memory forever.

Glass shattered from the windshield in front of her to the high pitched breakage of the warehouse window. He had shot his gun after all. An airbag deployed unexpectedly and if she had been given a chance to think about it she would have known Tony Stark upgrades all of his toys.

The advanced airbag leaves little injury, the only thing sore is her chest, tender where the seatbelt held her upon the impact. She’s shaking, and doesn’t know if she wants to laugh or cry, but when the door opens beside her and she sees Bucky she does both.

“What the hell was that?” He reprimands her and rightfully so. Getting hurt is the last thing Bucky wanted to happen to Y/N. “I told you to stay in the car!”

“That was me saving your ass,” she groaned slightly, “And as you can see I am in the car!”

Her statement was followed by a chuckle, as if the car wasn’t crunched up against a wall, with a bloodied person in between it.

Bucky pinched the bridge of his nose, sucking in a painful breath thanks to the throbbing gunshot that pierced his side. “I thought I told you to call Steve.”

“I did call him,” she insisted, struggling to unlatch her seatbelt. “But I couldn’t sit by and let something happen to you.”

Bucky heard the worry in her tone, and truthfully Andrei had somehow gotten the upper hand. He doesn’t want to think about what would have happened if it wasn’t for Y/N.

With Bucky’s assistance she got out of the car and carefully they hugged.

“I’m sorry our anniversary was ruined. I wanted– ” Bucky began to say before a voice interrupted him.

“Can you tell me what else is ruined?” Tony sarcastically asked, as red and gold arms crossed over the lighted triangle on his chest.

Bucky smiled at Y/N before answering. “This shirt for one,” he joked clutching his bleeding side.

Y/N frowned as Bucky hissed in pain. Apologizing for the car as she passed Tony, Y/N helped Bucky towards the quinjet that was blocking the street and Bucky grabbed a medical kit which he held out towards Y/N. “Wouldja mind?”

He took off his shirt and laid on his side so she could clean and bandage his wound, but not before he had the small chance to send her a wink.

“Looks like I’m the helpless one now, doll.” he joked.

A/N: Thank you for reading! Reblogs, comments and likes are always appreciated :)

Perm. Tags (open): @all1e23 / @asphalt-cocktail / @badassbaker / @bibibucky / @breezy1415 / @bucky-smiles / @buckybabybaby / @buckybarneshairpullingkink / @buckyofthemyscira / @california-grown / @captcarolvers / @chameerah / @chrevastan / @crazyinspiration / @driftingtonystark / @everythingisoverrated / @fandom-addict-aesthetics / @hana1379 / @his-paradox / @holland-stan-posts / @jaamesbbarnes / @jamesbvck / @jbuckbrnes / @kentuckybarnes / @kenzieam / @lokissoul / @mizzzpink / @notimetoblog / @palaiasaurus64 / @piensa-bonito / @prettyyoungtragedy / @royallylazy / @sgtjbuccky / @stanclub / @supernatural-girl97 / @supernaturaldean67 / @suz-123 /  @teamcap4bucky / @theassetseyeliner / @toongtii / @tropicalcap / @undyingart / @valhalla-ally / @wonderlandmind4 / @wonderless-screwup / @yknott81

[sunmoonandeddie]

i am born again

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

word count: 8,455

summary: In a moment of reverence, you and Bucky look back on where you started.

prompt: ‘airbag’ by the fretless

warnings: swearing, violence

a/n: This was written for @kentuckybarnes 3K writing challenge!  Congrats on the milestone!  I really, really enjoyed writing this, and I found a new favorite song from it.

“Hey, babydoll.”

You hummed in response, leaning against the bar.  Your finger was absentmindedly circling the rim of your glass of champagne—“It’s an 1820 Juglar Cuvee,” Tony had said with a proud smirk, “Figured if we were going to be celebrating tonight, we’d drink something good.”  You’d insisted that you’d been fine with a $5 bottle of wine from Walmart since you were fifteen, but he wouldn’t hear anything about it, even going as far as calling you ‘blasphemous.’

The material of your dress clung to your skin, somehow still not wrinkled even after hours of dancing.  Your heels had been kicked off a while ago and were resting on the ground in front of your stool.  Your ankle had started hurting somewhere around hour three, and you knew that you’d have to ask James to fix it for you in the morning.

It was strange, having a party dedicated to you.  You didn’t even get birthday parties before coming—or rather, being dragged—into the little family.  But Tony had insisted on pulling out all the stops for your little ‘coming out.’

The last few weeks had been full of paperwork and government meetings, press conferences, and signing your names to the replacement for the absolute disaster that was the Sokovia Accords.  It had been a whirl wind, you couldn’t lie.  When you had gotten to the United Nations summit in London, you had been an anxious mess.  You had been sure that at any moment, all of it would be taken away from you—someone would point at you and call you a fraud, call you the monster you were always sure you had been.

But it hadn’t happened.

You had walked into the summit with your head held high, James’s hand sneaking down to squeeze yours as he watched you with a proud smirk. And then seeing a place just for your name right beside all of your teammate’s had just made it all the more real. You had officially become a member of the Avengers in the eyes of the world after signing that paper.

It had all come to a culmination tonight, in one of the biggest parties Tony Stark had ever thrown.  The champagne was flowing freely, the music playing until the last guest had left.  Even now, someone—probably Tony—had gotten F.R.I.D.A.Y. to play a random playlist as your little family—the Avengers and Co., as you liked to call them—laughed and joked together.  They were all clearly a little drunk, even Steve, Thor, and Bucky, thanks to Thor’s Asgardian mead.

None of them really cared that it was almost six in the morning.  All of you were alive.  All of you were together.  Nothing from before seemed to matter anymore, because all of you were just so grateful. Tony and Steve were cackling over some joke, doubled over with just wheezes coming out of their mouths while Pepper stood nearby and watched her husband with a fond smile.  The wedding ring on her left finger was glimmering in the light.  Natasha was twirling around with a bottle of champagne in her hand, her heels lost somewhere.  Bruce was watching her with a sort of reverence with soft pink cheeks.  Clint and his family were sitting on the couch, giggling as they watched Thor tell some fantastic story.  The others were all dotted around, talking and laughing and just being happy.  And Bucky…

Your eyes flickered up to where he was leaning against the bar beside you now.  His hair was disheveled, having fallen out of his neat bun about halfway through the night. There was a glazed look in his eyes, and his cheeks were flushed from the alcohol as his flesh hand reached out to grab yours.  “I e’er tell you that you’re the prettiest dame I’ve e’ver seen?” He slurred.

“You have,” you giggled, feeling a little warm yourself. “You tell me every day.”

“Yeah,” he said, his eyes narrowing suspiciously as he pointed at you.  “But do ya believe me, babydoll?”

You smoothed the hand that wasn’t in his over the lapel of his suit.  Note to self, get Tony to throw more parties so I can see him in this more often, you thought to yourself as your hand moved up to run along his broad chest.  “I believe everything you tell me,” you said, hyper aware of the heat of his gaze.

He leaned forward, nuzzling his head into the crook of your neck.  “Love you. You know tha’, right?”  His breath was hot against your skin, sending shivers up your spine.  Even after all this time, he still elicited the same reaction.  He made your knees feel weak, your mouth go dry.  “Loved ya since I firs’ saw ya, babydoll.”

“Way back in 2006?” You teased, your fingers gently carding through his hair.

Bucky nodded before pressing a kiss to your pulse point.  “Even when ya shot me.”

Taking a deep breath, you crept down the dark hallway, your gun held at the ready. The apartment building was almost completely silent, thanks to the late hour.  You could hear a dog barking a few floors above, and there was a television still on in the apartment to your right.  But it was nothing concerning, just the sounds of a civilian life.

God forbid someone come out of their apartment now and see you.  You preferred scaling the walls and going through windows, but the window of the apartment you were heading for faced a busy street, and you couldn’t risk being seen.  And as much as you didn’t like it, if someone saw you, you’d have to take them out.

No witnesses.  Ever.

As you rounded the last set of stairs, you spotted the door you were looking for at the end of the hall.  Apartment number 508.  It only took a moment for you to know that the rest of the floor was completely silent. Everyone was fast asleep.

“Boring,” you scoffed, shaking your head in slight disappointment as you pulled a bobby pin out of your hair.  It took less than ten seconds for you to get the door unlocked and it swung upon with a soft creak.

Despite the fact that it was completely dark and silent, something felt off. There was a sense of unease as you stepped through the threshold with your gun raised and ready to shoot. Trying to brush it off, you began to move through the apartment towards the bedroom.

Minimum furniture.  No picture frames.  Nothing on the fridge.

“So you’re a loner,” you said to yourself, your voice barely audible.

“I wouldn’t call myself a loner.  I’ve even learned how to play with others.”

You whirled around, but all you could see was Iron Man’s arc reactor before everything went black, though the last thing you heard was a familiar voice.

“TONY, DON’T!”

There was a pounding in your head when you finally came to, groaning as you reached up to touch your temple.  You could feel dried blood right around your hair line and let out a huff.

Tony fucking Stark.

“So you’re awake.”

You sat up abruptly, ignoring the way it made your head spin.  The room were you were in was made of glass and seemed to be in a circle.  You could see that the glass cage you were in was in some kind of facility.  When your eyes finally landed on a familiar figure, you couldn’t help but scoff.  “Soldier.”

“I usually prefer to go by my name now, doll,” James said, raising his eyebrows. His arms crossed over his chest as he stared you down.  But you were too busy unashamedly taking him in.  “You still remember that, right?  I don’t think Tony hit you hard enough to cause amnesia.”

He looked… softer than the last time you had seen him.  His hair had been cut, though it was still a little shaggy.  His stubble was neatly trimmed and he just looked less tense.  Less like a robot.

“I see you finally learned how to shave,” you said, taking in a shaky breath as you tried to take stock of yourself.  Your head was still pounding.  You weren’t sure what Tony Stark had hit you with, but it had certainly done a number on you.  There were several tender spots, particularly around your shoulders, but that was normal. Your left ankle still clicked from where you had strained it a few years before, the tendons moving back and forth over the bone.  That caused a bit of a grimace.  No matter how much physical therapy you did on it, it never did go back to how it. And you had known that when it happened, since straining something meant that you had fucked up the tendons, which never go back.

But that was beside the point.

James leaned against the railing of a walkway right outside the cage.  “So what were you doing in that apartment?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” You muttered, getting to your feet with a wince.  You could ignore your head and the tenderness in your shoulder blades.  You had to. It was how you were trained.  You always got up and kept going until the job was done.

“I would.”

You raised your eyebrows as you watched him start to circle around the cage, his eyes never leaving you.  “You and I both know that you wouldn’t be asking me if you didn’t already know.”

The tension between you two could be cut with a knife as he smirked.  “What does your boss want with a former HYDRA scientist?”

“Who said I have a boss?”

“Because if you’re doing a job, you’re getting paid,” he replied, rolling his sea blue eyes.  Those eyes that had always brought you to your knees.  Made you beg.  Made you want something for once in your life…

No. You couldn’t think about that shit.

You stood with your arms crossed over your chest defensively.  “Who says I can’t do a job for myself?”

“Not your style.”

God, you wanted to punch his stupid pretty face.  “You don’t know anything about me or my style, Soldier,” you snarled.  “I don’t know you.”

That made him pause.  He turned to fully face you, something glimmering in his eyes.  “So those four months in Florence didn’t mean anything to you?”  When you didn’t reply, he took a step closer, standing just inches from the glass.  “I know you remember.  May of 2006, right?  You were… what?  Nineteen?” The corner of his lips twitched up into a smirk.  “You looked so young.  Hell, you still look like you’re not a day over twenty.”

“Says the hundred year old man.”

“So you do know me?”  He seemed a little surprised.  “And here I thought you hadn’t bothered looking for me.”

“Of course, I did.”  You moved to the other side of the cage, so you were as far from him as you could get. “And it wasn’t like it was hard. The entire world knows who James Buchanan Barnes is after Black Widow’s little info dump.  The best friend of Captain America, the Winter Soldier.”

He began to move to where you were standing, causing you to move in the opposite direction.  “And?”

“And what?”

James just seemed to get more and more frustrated.  His blue eyes narrowed and you wondered if he was flexing or if he’d been working out.  The way his black t-shirt strained against his muscles made your head feel a little woozy. “And what did you think?”

“What? Back in 2006?  I found it rather interesting that the man who claimed he was in love with me didn’t think it was necessary to tell me he was leaving.”  You watched him with narrowed e/c eyes as you continued to move away with him.  You knew that he’d eventually get tired of it and snap at you, but that’s exactly what you wanted.  Half the time, the only way to get James Barnes to talk was to get him so angry and frustrated that he couldn’t hide his emotions behind a wall. “But I knew you were the Soldier when we first met, so what the hell do you mean, what did I think?”

“About who I was before,” he shouted, the vein in his neck straining.  His hands were fisted tightly by his sides.

Rolling your eyes, you sat down in the middle of the cage, leaning back.  “Well, I finally found out something about you, so that was nice.  Even if it was years after it would’ve been relevant.”

“You knew who I was.  And you’re deflecting.”

“I did not. You’re annoying.”

“Y/N, stop it.”

“Stop what?”

“You know what.”

You raised your eyebrows, feigning innocence as you let your head fall back. The ceiling of the cage had suddenly become very interesting.  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re evading,” he hissed, his patience wearing incredibly then.  You were actually surprised he had lasted this long anyway.  He had always had a short temper back when the two of you had been together.  “And you know me.  I told you about Steve and my sisters and everything I could remember.”

Your eyes caught on a crack in the ceiling, but you tried not to let it show on your face. One of the panels was slightly out of place.  A way out.

“Fine,” Bucky said as he circled around, clearly trying to get you to look at him. “Could you at least tell me how you’ve barely aged in over ten years?”

“A fantastic skin care routine,” you replied nonchalantly, closing your eyes. Maybe if you just didn’t give him anything for long enough, he’d go away.

Like he did before.

“Come on, Y/N,” he whispered as he pressed a hand against the glass.  His ocean eyes were swimming as he stared at you.  “Give me something.”

“Or what? Your little friends will kill me?”

You kept your eyes closed, but you could feel his gaze.  You could feel how much more he tensed up.

He let out a final sigh, his hand squeaking as it slid down the glass to land back at his side.  “I’ll be back with food later.”

The second he was gone, you were on your feet and looking up at the ceiling.  You knew you could make the jump and you knew that you could pull yourself up into the vent above.

As long as your ankle didn’t fuck it up.

Jumping and things like that had always been a little harder after straining it. But if you could just get up to the vent, you’d be golden.

Bouncing up and down slightly, you couldn’t help but smirk.  There was a little bit of bounce in the floor that was clearly there for shock value.  They were just making this easier and easier.  Bracing yourself, you positioned yourself directing under the panel.

Pain shot through your ankle as you jumped, but your fingers managed to find purchase.  Using one hand, you nudged the panel to create a bigger hole before pulling yourself up. You collapsed in the vent, breathing hard as you took stock.  Someone had changed you.  You weren’t in your usual uniform, but in a pair of leggings and a sweatshirt with the Stark logo on it.  No shoes. All of your weapons were gone, even the knife you kept strapped to your thigh.

Whoever the fuck had touched you was going to pay.

Realizing that you had limited time before someone came to check on you, you pushed the panel black into place.  Hopefully there weren’t cameras pointed at the cage, but you knew that it was unlikely you’d be that lucky.

You had already been granted a miracle in the past five minutes.  Hoping for more would just jinx you.

“Come on, Y/N,” you said to yourself as you got on all fours.  “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

Ignoring the pain in your ankle, you crawled through the vent, occasionally finding a grate that would grant you a glimpse into where you were.  It was definitely some type of training facility. You had already found a gym and a few conference rooms.  You quickly came to the conclusion that in order to get out of there, you were going to have to get out of the grate.  There were too many different paths to take and you had no idea where they led or which would get you out.

That’s when you hit the jackpot.  You peeked down a grate, finding what seemed to be a weapons room.  You made quick work of the grate, dropping down into the room with the gracefulness of a cat.  Wincing, you glanced down at your ankle.  It really was making this more difficult than needed.  A quick look around the room made you realize that they were all organized by the owner.  Each Avenger had their little area, labeled with their name.

“Tacky,” you muttered with a shake of your head.  You were tempted to take someone from Natasha’s stash, but you knew there was only one person who’s weapons you could take.  You grabbed a handgun, loading it before sticking it in the waistband of your leggings behind your back.  Three knives were tucked into various other spots.  You pulled the sweatshirt over all of them, keeping them somewhat hidden. Before leaving the room, you grabbed one more handgun, filling it with ammo before flicking off the safety.

And if someone came in and wondered why there was a few things missing from James Barnes’s stash, well…

You’d be long gone by then.

The halls were mostly quiet, confusing you just a little.  You’d figured that this place would be crawling with agents. There’d been a few in the gym when you’d crawled over it, but not that many.

When you heard footsteps approaching, you quickly ducked into a doorway, pressing yourself back against the wall.

“I don’t know what happened, she’s just gone!”

Ah. James Barnes.

“Bucky, the entire compound is searching the area around the Fish Bowl.  We’re gonna find her.”

Oh. Captain America.  This would be fun.  Also, Fish Bowl?

When they came around the corner, you whirled on them.  Your gun was pointed straight at them and your hands were steady. It was fair to say that you’d caught them by surprise.  A plate that had been in James’s hands clattered to the floor and shattered, sending glass and bits of food everywhere.

“Hey, Buck?” Steve said slowly, his eyes not leaving you.  “I think I found her.”

You couldn’t help but smirk as your gaze shifted from the huge blond to James.  “I think I like him more than you, Bucky,” you said, a little condescendingly.  “At least he’s funny.”

He snorted, shaking his head as he watched you.  “How’d you get out?”

“This isn’t some action movie, Soldier,” you spat, rolling your eyes.  “I’m not about to spill all my secrets.”

You had to shift a little, trying to get as much weight off your left ankle as possible. It was still in a lot of pain, but you couldn’t focus on that.  But both of the super soldiers immediately zeroed in on it.

“You’re hurt,” James said, his eyes softening.  He moved to take a step closer and you pointed your gun directly at him.  The man immediately froze, hurt coloring his eyes as he looked at you.  “You wouldn’t shoot me.”

You shifted your foot again, trying your best to not let it show.  “You let your friend knock me out and then locked me in a cage.”  Gritting your teeth, you held your head high.  “Try me.”  Steve was glancing back and forth between the two of you.  “We both know I don’t really need it, but extra target practice is always good.”

“Babydoll—”

“Don’t you fucking call me that,” you snapped.  “You lost the right a long time ago.”

“You loved me once,” he said, holding his hands in the air as he stood there, baring himself to whatever you might do.  “You can’t tell me you don’t still feel the same way.”

“What?” You laughed, glaring at him.  “You do?”

“Yes.”

You shook your head, biting your lip.  “Shut up, you dirty liar.”

“Y/N,” James said, a frown on his face.  “I’m not lying.  I still love you.”

“Shut up.”

“When I got out of HYDRA, you were one of the only people I still remembered.”

“Shut. UP.”

He took a chance and took a few steps closer, knowing it could result in your shooting him.  “You are the love of my life, Y/N.  It was true then, and it’s true now.”

“SHUT UP!” You screamed, tears in your eyes.  Your teeth hurt from how hard your jaw was clenched.  “Shut the fuck up!”

“Y/N, let me help you,” he whispered, tears rimming his eyes.  “Please, put down the gun and let me help you.”

Your heart wanted you to say yes.  Your heart wanted you to toss down the gun and launch yourself into his arms, but your brain knew better.  Your brain reminded you of how broken you’d been when he left without a trace.  Not even a note.

“Stay the hell away from me,” you snarled, and you pulled the trigger.  You had aimed it so that it would hit right where his metal arm met the flesh of his shoulder, but you whirled around and started running without waiting to see if it worked.  By his shout of pain, you assumed it had.

Ignoring the tears in your eyes, you just kept running.  You had to find an exit at some point, right?  Your bare feet slapped against the cold tiles of the hallway as you glanced back, finding Steve Rogers hot on your tail with James following at a larger distance.  He was clutching his shoulder, blood causing his t-shirt to stick to his skin.

“Y/N, STOP!” James shouted, and you shook your head, willing yourself to go faster.

“Come on, Y/N, come on,” you panted, taking a sharp right turn.  But you had to try your best to back pedal as you saw Tony Stark and Sam Wilson running towards you.  When you made it back to the hall you had first come from, you turned right, Steve Rogers just a few feet away.  You knew there was no reason you’d be able to evade him much longer, no matter what those scientists had pumped you up with.

But you froze as you saw Natasha Romanov running down the hall towards you.

You were effectively trapped.  Steve Rogers and James Barnes behind you, Tony Stark and Sam Wilson to your right, Natasha Romanov in front of you, and a wall to your left.  You were royally screwed.

“Y/N, please.”

You whirled around to see James coming up behind Steve, who was waiting for your next move with narrowed blue eyes.  “I told you to stay away.”

“Listen, kid,” Tony snapped as he stepped forward.  “Either you calmly walk back to the Fish Bowl, or we do this the hard way.”

“What, you gonna knock me out like you did before?”  You demanded, whirling around to look at him.  “Real hospitable.  I’ll make sure to leave a Yelp review.”

“She’s funny,” Sam mused, a smirk on his lips as he pointed at you.  He then glanced at Bucky.  “Hey, Buck, how’d you get a girl this funny?”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” He asked, still holding his shoulder.

“Well, I’m just saying.  Your sense of humor is—”

“Is this really the time?”  Natasha was eying you warily, her gun now pointed at you.  “How’d you get out of the Fish Bowl?”

“I don’t do well in cages.”  You still held your gun in hand, but your heart was pounding.  You knew there was no way you’d be able to squirrel your way out of this one.  There were too many of them.  If you took one down, the others would pounce.

“Y/N,” Bucky said, his voice cracking.  “Please.”

You shifted your ankle again, biting the inside of your cheek.  It really wasn’t liking you today.  It might’ve had to do with the fact that your brace was gone—whoever changed you must’ve taken it.  “We both know I’m not getting out of here alive, Soldier.”

“Wait, wait, wait—” Sam stood up a little straighter, his brows furrowed.  “We’re not killing her, right?  We can’t kill her—she handed Buck’s ass to ‘im.”

“Really, Sam?” Steve sighed as he glanced over at him.

“What, man? She could be good to have around.”

“Not the time!” Natasha repeated, growing more and more irritated.

Tony huffed as he fired up his Iron Man arm, his hand glowing.  “Alright, enough of this.”

And yet again, the only thing you heard was James screaming, “TONY, DON’T!”

You woke up back in the Fish Bowl, your head pounding once again.  “Shit,” you muttered, glaring down at the ground as you pushed yourself up off your stomach.

“You shot me.”

Knowing who it was without even looking, you shrugged.  “Told you to try me.  You did.”

“I meant what I said,” James said, his voice soft and warm.  It brought you back to lazy mornings, the summer breeze drifting in through the open balcony doors of your apartment, tangled limbs, kisses pressed to your neck, and…

“Would you stop?” You asked, exhaustion seeping through.  Your e/c eyes were trained on the ground.  “You don’t love me.”

“I do.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Don’t you think I’m the one of us who knows how I feel?” He snapped, causing you to finally look up at him.  He was standing outside the glass cage, elastic bandages and medical tape in his hands. James looked at you for a long moment, taking in your slightly defeated expression.  “Can I please wrap your ankle?”

“Why?” You looked at him suspiciously, scooting back a little.

He shook his head, already pressing numbers on a keypad outside.  The glass wall slid open, but as soon as he was inside, it shut right back.  “What do you mean, ‘why?’  You’re hurt.”

“I don’t want you touching me.”

“Well, too bad, babydoll.”  He sat in front of you, grabbing your calf and pulling you closer when you tried to scramble backwards.  His touch reminded you of a time gone by, but you knew there was no way you could go back. “Because right now, you’re being stubborn and hurting yourself further because you’re angry with me.”

“Fuck off,” you snarled, trying to kick out at him.

His sea blue eyes narrowed at you, fixing you in your spot.  “It’s not nice to kick people, you know.”

“It’s not nice to put people in a cage, you know,” you said, making your voice super deep to try to mock him.  But you didn’t try to kick him away again.

He picked up your foot, gently running his calloused fingers over your skin, feeling the muscles, tendons, and ligaments underneath.  He found what he was looking for when he touched a spot on the bottom of your foot, causing you to gasp and try to jerk away.  “There it is,” he hummed as he massaged your foot for a second. Bucky then gently touched the spot again.  “When you strained it, you stretched out the tendons and ligaments in your foot—”

“Yeah, I know that,” you said, rolling your eyes.

He fixed you with another look.  “As I was saying…”  He gently touched the top of your left foot, on the exterior side.  “The tendons here are supposed to help hold up a bone, but since they’re stretched…”  He tapped the hard spot on the underside of your foot.  “It sunk through to the bottom of your foot, which is why it hurts when you use it.”

“That’s a bone?”  You asked, your mouth dropping open in shock.

Buck grinned as he patted your foot.  “Whoever you went to for this foot clearly didn’t know what they were doing.”  He rubbed your foot soothingly, taking a bit of the ache out.  “Can you roll onto your stomach for me, doll face?”

You tensed up again, your jaw clenching as you prepared to run, even if you couldn’t get very far.  “Why?”

His grin was blinding as he tugged on your calf once again, pulling you close. “Because I’m gonna fix it for you.” You watched him cautiously, but you rolled over anyway.  “There ya go. Now, this is gonna feel really weird, okay?”  Feeling his hands on you made your cheeks go red, and you just nodded, squeezing your eyes shut.  “One… Two…  Three.”

You yelped as he popped your foot, putting the bone back into place.  “Shit!”

“’M sorry, baby girl,” he murmured, massaging your foot.  “Can you turn back over so I can wrap it?”

Not saying anything, you turned back over for him, and he immediately set to work. Your e/c eyes stayed locked on his face as he focused on wrapping your foot.  His touch was so tender and gentle, but that wasn’t really surprising. Even when you’d only known him as the Soldier, he’d been careful with you.  He always treated you as though you were going to break, even though you were a highly trained assassin.

“There ya go,” he said, barely audible.  He was relishing the feeling of being able to touch you, caress you.  It had been over ten years, and he had never though he’d get to see you again.  Especially not after the way he’d left you.

“I was going after the scientist for me,” you said slowly, despite knowing that if you gave him an inch, he’d take a mile.

“Why?” James looked surprised, so shocked that you were actually going to talk to him.

Your heart was pounding.  “I was his experiment.  HYDRA was trying to recreate the super soldier serum because the original had so much testosterone that it killed the women they used it on.”  You took a chance to look up at him, your eyes locking. “I thought I was going to die for a week after they gave it to me.  I thought my blood was boiling me from the inside out.  Eventually it settled, but all it did was slow down the aging process.”

“No super strength?”

You can’t help but smirk a little.  “Just a little.  But not enough to be considered super.”

He chuckled, the warm sound reverberating through you.  He seemed so happy to have you near him, to be able to touch you. It reminded you of lazy mornings, when all the two of you did was drink each other in while mapping each other with your hands.  “I’m not sorry I got to him first.  Consider it payback for Florence.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, averting your eyes so that you were staring off to the side.  “’M not sorry I shot you.”

“I know.”

“You deserved it.”

“I know.”

“Because you were an asshole.”

“I know.”

“And you still are one.”

He winced a little, but you didn’t pull away, giving him a little beacon of hope. “It’s okay.  I’ll be almost completely healed by morning.”

Your lips were pressed tightly together as you continued to stare off to the side. “Then I’ll just shoot you again tomorrow.”

And though you’d never admit it, the laugh that resounded throughout the glass cage made your heart skip a beat.

Steve groaned from where he was joking with Tony.  “Are you two talking about the time you shot ‘im again?” The beautiful Armani suit he was wearing was wrinkled and you were pretty sure that he had spilled Asgardian mead on it several times, but no one really minded.  “We’ve heard it a million times now!  And you—” He pointed at James.  “—always say that she shot you four times, and that’s why you couldn’t catch her, but she actually only shot you once, and you were so starstruck by the fact that she had actually shot you that you tripped four times while we were chasing her.”

Bruce whined from where he sat on the couch, his eyes drifting away from Natasha for the first time all night.  “Don’t make fun of them, Steve, I love this story.”

“What story?” Lila asked from where she was sandwiched in between Clint and Laura.  Nathaniel, now a few years old, was holding his hands out for Natasha, who eagerly picked him up.  Cooper was resting on the other side of his father, nuzzled into his side.  The older man’s hand was gently twisting a strand of his wife’s hair around his finger, gazing at his little family adoringly.

Bucky, trying to seem more sober than he was, pointed at the little girl.  “The story of how Y/N here was a total badass and—”

“Hey!” Tony said, pointing at him before Laura or Clint could jump in.  “No cussing! Young ears!”

“Fine!  Sorry!” But he just grinned at you as he said, “She was really cool and shot me.”

“And that’s how you knew she was the one,” Natasha teased, the champagne sloshing out of the bottle that she pointed towards you.

“Noooo,” Bucky retorted, almost falling off his stool. Luckily you were able to grab his arm and pull him back before he crashed onto the hard floor.  As resilient as he was to injury, you didn’t think he’d enjoy having his face on the floor with your heels.

Wanda was sitting in Vis’s lap, the bubbles in her laugh mimicking the alcohol coursing through her veins.  “No?  Then what was it?”  Her accent was much thicker when she was drunk.

Your fiancé turned to look at you, his eyes suddenly clear. He looked more sober than he had all night.  “It was the day I had to leave you in Florence.”

That surprised you.  “Wait, what?  I thought it when we made up after me shooting you.”  Your nose scrunched up as you looked from the ground and back to him.  “Really, though?  That day?”

“Yeah, babydoll,” he said with a frustrating air of nonchalance.  “It was about ten in the morning, and you woke me up because you were humming.”

The early summer breeze wafted through the open balcony doors as you sat on the edge of the bed.  Your little one bedroom apartment was filled with natural light, and it amazed you that the man in the bed behind you hadn’t woken up yet.

Turning to glance back at him, you couldn’t help but grin as you saw the scratches that littered his back.  They were already almost entirely healed but you didn’t mind.  It just meant you could make more later, and the same could be said about the love bites you had left all over his neck and chest.

It terrified you, the way your heart would race when you glanced at him.  After all, you didn’t… like people.  At least, you didn’t like like them.  It made you feel so many things at once that you felt dizzy anytime you so much as thought about him.  His sea blue eyes had pierced your soul the first second that you had met, just four months earlier.

God, had it only been four months?  Four months since you had met a man who had completely flipped your world upside down?

The way it had first started had been … messy, to say the least.  You had gone after the same target, but both had the same order attached to it.

No witnesses.

You had made it to him first, taking him out in the kitchen as he made a midnight snack with ease.  But you hadn’t noticed the front door swinging open and the famed Winter Soldier entering. The second you two had seen each other, you knew you were fucked.  You had fought, but that had only resulted in a mass of broken furniture.

There had been a pause in the fighting—the Soldier having backed you up against the wall by the front door—when the door beside you had swung open again, and a man screaming Russian had entered.  Before he had even gotten three steps in the door, you had spun on your heel and jammed your knife into his jugular.  The hot, scarlet blood spurted all over you but you didn’t even flinch, letting your hand fall to your side as you watched the handler drop to the floor.

You had quickly realized that it had been the Winter Soldier’s handler, wondering what was taking his precious asset so long on such a simple mission.

The so-called Asset didn’t know what to do.  His handler controlled everything.  Where he went, what he did.  Without him, he had no idea where to go or who to call.  He knew he could’ve gotten back to Russia, but he had no idea where his base was.  So he had kept you trapped in the apartment, refusing to let you leave while he tried to figure out what his next move was.

He had spent a week and a half pacing back and forth and making you anxious with how neurotic he was being.  You certainly hadn’t helped—antagonizing him whenever you got the chance.  “Sorry, am I vexing you?” You had cooed, batting your eyelashes as he just rolled his eyes with a growl before continuing to pace.  All the tension and cabin fever eventually resulted in a mess of clothes on the floor and an even bigger mess of limbs on the bed of the man you two had killed.

The man who’s body you two still had yet to dispose of.

The two of you had stood in the doorway of the guest bathroom, staring at the bathtub with arms crossed over your chests.  There was still a sheen of sweat covering the two of you from your earlier… activities.  The two of you turned to look at each other, blue eyes meeting e/c.  “We should probably take care of them,” you said, both of you slowly turning to look at the target and his handler’s dead bodies, shoved into the huge bathtub.

“We could just leave them there for someone to find,” he replied, though the lilt in his voice made it sound more like a question.

The laugh that had come out of your throat was much more natural than you had expected it to be.  “We’d at least have to take care of your handler.”  When he didn’t say anything, you tilted your head to look at him.  “Are you going to go back?”  Your voice was soft, wondering.  You hated to admit it, but you had grown fond of him after almost two weeks of being trapped with him.  It was nice, being able to talk to someone who kind of understood your line of work. It had taken him a while to open up to you, but he’d eventually started talking when you asked what his favorite weapon was.

A Kershaw cryo steel blade with a stainless steel handle with titanium carbo-nitride coating.

He had seemed nervous when he told you, embarrassed that he even had a favorite weapon.

But then you had told him that yours was a SOG SEAL pup elite fixed blade and his face had split in a blinding smile.

It hadn’t taken him much to warm up to you after you had disposed of a body together, but maybe that’s what happens after going as long as you two had without meeting another person like you.  Neither of you had thought too much about how crazy you were being when you decided to shake up in an apartment together.  He wanted away from HYDRA, and you wanted to stay in one place for longer than a week. With the pay from the job that you two had met on, it wasn’t like you were struggling for cash either.  Being an assassin sometimes had it’s perks.

You thought about that first week and a half with a faint smile, humming as you looked back down at the knives you had been polishing.  They were placed on either side of you, the left for James and the right for you.  You wanted to do something nice for him, something to surprise him.

You jumped as two strong arms wrapped around you, one warm flesh and the other cold metal.  Both of which you loved equally.  You loved being able to stay curled up with him all night without feeling overheated and sweaty, his prosthetic keeping you cool.  “Good morning,” you said.  You dropped the knife you had been cleaning in favor of intertwining your fingers with his where they rested on your stomach.

James’s lips trailed along your bare shoulder, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. His hot breath caused goosebumps to raise along your arms and he chuckled.  “Good morning, babydoll,” he rumbled, his voice deep and breathy and oh, the things it did to you.  “I never thought cleaning knives could be so… alluring.”

“Oh, yeah?” You mused as you turned your head, capturing his lips in a kiss.  “Do you have a thing for that?”

He smirked, his grip on you becoming more possessive.  “I have a thing for everything you do.”

“I’m so glad I could help you fulfill your dirty fantasies,” you said with a bit of an eyeroll.  When he tried to pull you back to bed, you shook your head and stood, peeling his hands off of you.  You wanted nothing more than to get back under the sheets with him but you had things to do. “No, no, no.  I have to go grocery shopping remember?”  You stood up and began to get dressed, causing him to fall back onto the pillows with a huff.

“Do you have to?” He asked, his voice coming out in a long whine.

“If you want to eat, yes.”  You giggled as you buttoned up your jean shorts and pulled on a tank top.  He didn’t even look at you as you crawled up the bed towards him, though he did let out a rather loud groan of frustration as you straddled his hips and leaned over to peek down at him.  “Baby, I promise you, as soon as I get back I’ll be right back in this bed, okay?”

He opened one eye.  “Naked?”

“Yes, naked.”  You leaned down and pressed a featherlight kiss to his lips.  “You know, I’m starting to think you only like me when you’re fucking me,” you said, pursing your lower lip as you leaned back.

The result was him shooting up, panic in his gorgeous eyes.  “What?  Doll, you know how I feel about you.”  His arms wrapped around your waist as he held you close to his chest, kissing your cheeks, your chin, your forehead, your nose.  “I love you more than life itself.”

“I know, I know,” you giggled, kissing him once more on the lips before pushing him away and pulling on your sandals.  “I’ll be back soon, okay?”

As soon as you were out the door, James was up and in the kitchen. He had remembered a recipe his Ma used to use around the holidays.  It was only for special occasions, since everything was so rationed back then, but he wanted to surprise you.  He was halfway through making the sugar cream pie when he heard the door opening.

“Babydoll,” he called out, a warm smile on his face.  He always felt so giddy when he thought of you.  He was covered in flour from head to toe, the ingredients scattered everywhere.  “Don’t come in the kitchen.”  When he didn’t get a reply, he frowned and grabbed a towel to wipe his hands off. But when he turned to go to the living room, he froze.

A familiar man stood in the doorway to the kitchen, a smirk on his lips. “Babydoll?  Who in the world could that be?”  The agent chuckled as he moved towards him, taking in the small kitchen. “You’ve got quite the little set up here, don’t ya, Soldat?”

James didn’t reply, eyeing the knives that were on the counter behind the agent.  His worst fear was coming true.  He had nightmares about this moment, about HYDRA finding him and putting you in danger. His hands trembled, his mouth going dry.

“Don’t even think about it, Soldat,” he said, already seeing what he’d been thinking.  The agent sauntered forward so he was right in front of the super soldier, swiping his finger through the pie mix and popping it into his mouth.  “Sweet.”  He continued to move around the apartment, James slowly following.  The agent smirked as he picked up a pair of your panties from the floor, twirling it teasingly in front of him before he shoved it into his pocket.  “Think I’ll save these for later, know what I mean?”

And oh, if James didn’t want to tear him apart at that moment.

“I bet she’s a pretty little thing,” the agent hummed, staring him down. It was clearly to challenge him, making him get angry, and it was working.  “Wonder what it would feel like to be inside that sweet—”

James was across the room in an instant, his hand around the agent’s neck as he slammed him up against the wall.  “If you touch her, I will rip you apart with my bare hands,” he snapped, his lips pulled back in a snarl.

“If you kill me, the team outside of HYDRA agents will have her dead within five minutes,” he said, his face going red at the lack of oxygen.  “She really likes that market on the corner, huh? Always gets peaches there.”

He immediately dropped the agent, his eyes widening.  They had eyes on you.  Not only did they find him, they had found him and watched him for long enough to know about you and your routines.  The thought of a sniper pointing his gun at you struck fear into his heart.  You were the love of his life and if you died…  “How—”

“You have two choices, Soldat,” the agent said, brushing off his shirt as though he hadn’t almost been choked to death.  “Either you come with me quietly and we let her live, or you kill me and your babydoll gets a bullet in that cute little head of hers.”

It didn’t take long to get the groceries from the little neighborhood market, and all you could think about was the man waiting in bed for you. He had almost… transformed in the four months you had been with him.  He seemed to be rather old-fashioned, even if he didn’t remember much of his time before HYDRA.  Sometimes he spoke of a best friend, someone named Steve with blond hair and bright blue eyes.  Other times he spoke of how his sisters would thunder about his childhood home, driving his ma wild.  But he was so chivalrous you thought he must’ve time traveled.  No man you had met before had ever been so kind.

You took your time on the way back, relishing in the warmth the summer sun bestowed upon you.  The smell of fresh cannolis was wafting out of a nearby bakery and you made a split-second decision to pop in and grab a sweet treat for you and James to share.

As you finally got home and opened the door of your apartment, you frowned. Something felt wrong.  “James?”  When you got no reply, you moved further into the room, walking into the kitchen. There was some kind of desert left half made on the counter.  “James?”

Your heart broke as you pushed open the door to the bedroom, finding it completely empty.  He was gone.

“I didn’t know that was the moment,” you murmured, biting your lip.  James had your hand in his and was gently caressing it.

The rest of the Avengers, somehow still drunk, had all wandered off, realizing it was more of a private moment between the two of you.

“That was the moment I realized that I would do anything to keep you safe,” he said, pulling you off the stool to stand in between his legs. His free hand moved to caress your hair, tugging on a strand that had fallen out of the elegant French twist.  “Even if it meant I had to leave you.”

“I didn’t really enjoy coming home to an empty apartment,” you said, sadness in your eyes as you thought back to that day.

“Hey.”  James tilted your chin up gently.  “I swore that day that I’d find you again, even if I had to fight wars for you.  I’d get you back and I’d spend the rest of my life making it up to you.”

“James,” you whispered as you leaned your forehead against his.  “You’ve more than made it up to me.”  You turned to look at your friends—no, your family. “Look at what you’ve given me.”

It had taken over six months for you to get to the point where you didn’t want to run, and even longer for you to realize that James wasn’t lying. That he really did love you and that he did leave because he wanted to protect you.  In the process, you had shed your old life.  The old you had died and brought forth a new person.  Someone who had love in their life, had family.

Tears rimmed your eyes as you watched them.  Bruce and Natasha were giggling as they passed her bottle of champagne back and forth.  Clint was softly singing to his children as his wife dozed in his arms. Pepper and Tony were swaying slowly in each other’s arms, whispering too low for anyone else to hear.  Steve and Thor were re-enacting some grand story for Wanda and Vision as they laughed.

The sun was beginning to rise over the horizon as it brought on a new day, shining through the floor-to-ceiling windows and casting a halo-like glow around them.  They were your angels.  Steve, Natasha, Tony, Wanda, Bruce, all of them.  But James had been the one to pull you out of a life of no fulfillment.  A life of only living for the next paycheck. Now you had a family that loved you, that cared about whether or not you were safe.  You had gone through your wars and come out of it like a phoenix rising from the ashes.

“I’ve been reborn because you never gave up on me.”

[sunlightdances]

Focal Point

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Prompt: “What’s with this…sassy lost child?” Rating/warnings: PG. Warnings for Bucky being a cocky idiot.  Summary: You take PR photos for Pepper Potts and are semi-successfully navigating your giant, unavoidable crush on one James Buchanan Barnes.  Author’s Note: This is for @kentuckybarnes’ 3k writing challenge! Congrats, Hannah, and thanks for hosting! As always, please don’t repost my work on any other sites (wattpad, ao3, etc.) without my permission. Reblogs are gold!

Links are broken - you can find my full Bucky master list on my blog! May not work for some mobile users. Sorry!

.

.

You’re standing off to one side as Bucky and Sam answer a few questions from the small crowd gathered, mostly kids and their parents. Sam, as always, is re-telling the PG events from their last mission with blistering enthusiasm, leaving Bucky shaking his head.

It doesn’t matter - the kids are eating it up. It’s times like this you really love your job. You’re… you don’t know what your official job title is, actually. There are days when you’re not even sure if you’re technically employed by Stark Industries, or The Avengers, or some other secret organization. All you know is that one day you showed up to volunteer at an event for Pepper Potts, and the next thing you know, you’re at all the events. You take photos, you help make sure they stick to schedule, and essentially make sure they’re in the right place at the right time. It’s public relations, but it doesn’t feel like that a lot of the time. They make you feel like you fit in, like you’re a friend.

This event in particular is your favorite - at a local children’s hospital, shaking hands and spending time with the kids. Pepper arranges it so the team can do it a few times a year if they can, and their visit is always anticipated by kids and their parents.

It’s anticipated by you, too, because-- you’re not dumb, these superheroes are somehow more attractive when they’re accompanied by small children.

Now, Bucky is crouched down next to a little girl, his eyes lighting up as she tells him a story, her arms flailing as she goes, and he nods and oohs and ahhs at all the appropriate points. It’s adorable, and you feel yourself blushing when he glances over and catches you staring. But really-- how else are you supposed to react? He winks, like he’s conspiring with you somehow, and it makes you feel… things. You turn away quickly before you look like an even bigger idiot.

You snap a few photos for parents and a few shots to send to Pepper, and then you’re all piling in the van to go back home, and you back to work. You have an office in the Avengers compound, which doubles as Stark Industries these days.

“Make sure you send me those photos of my good side,” Sam says from the backseat, and you smirk.

“Which side is that?” You ask, laughing when you hear Bucky and Steve’s reaction - a loud laugh from Steve and a surprised noise from Bucky.

“That was harsh. I don’t think I’ll ever recover.”

“Lucky for you, you don’t have a bad side, Sam.” The three of you are stupidly handsome, you think.

The rest of the ride back upstate is quiet. Bucky’s reading, Steve is scribbling in a well-worn journal, and Sam’s asleep. You flick through your camera, making mental notes about which photos to delete and which ones to edit and get back to Pepper.

Your thumb hovers over the delete button on a photo of Bucky and Sam, the two of them laughing about something. Bucky’s looking straight into the lens. It’s not something you’d use, normally, but you find yourself hesitating. It’s like he’s looking right at you.

Bucky clears his throat in the backseat, and when you look in the rearview mirror, he’s already looking at you. Shit. You fumble with your camera. Did he just see you staring at his photo like some lovesick teenager? You feel your face flushing with embarrassment.

Luckily, you’re saved by the arrival at the compound, and you practically leap out of the van and high tail it to your office.

“No goodbyes? Cold!” Sam calls, but you ignore him.

Safely inside, you shut the door behind you and sit back in your chair, eyes closing. “Jesus Christ,” you mutter to yourself, trying to regain your composure.

“Is everything alright? Your pulse is elevated.” F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s voice rings out. Called out by the AI? Great. Not to mention if she realizes your pulse is elevated, there’s no way Bucky and Steve didn’t notice too.

“I’m fine, F.R.I.D.A.Y., thank you.”

Trying to relax, you log on to your computer and scroll through a few emails that came in while you were out, responding to a few, but deciding ultimately to start editing those photos.

When you get to the one of Bucky and Sam, you upload it, but delete it off the camera. Fidgeting, you open a new email.

Subject: Photos from Hospital Trip - attached Sergeant Barnes, Thought you might want this photo from the trip today. Won’t be using it for PR, so I attached a copy. I’ll send one to Sam, as well.

You hit ‘send’ before you can talk yourself out of it, and get busy editing so you’re not tempted to stare at your inbox all day.

.

.

.

The next day, a knock at your office door breaks your concentration, and you peer at the door overtop your reading glasses.

“Is this a bad time?”

Bucky.

“Oh, no, it’s fine, come in.” You stand and start to clear some paperwork from your desk, shoving everything in a drawer in an attempt to look like you’ve got it together. “What can I do for you?”

“I wanted to see the other pictures from the hospital trip, if that’s okay.” He scratches the back of his neck, smiling. “The one you sent was… good. You mentioned if I wanted copies…”

“Sure, yeah. I can pull them up…” you slide back into your desk chair, fingers flying over your keyboard. “I just finished editing them this morning. Any in particular?”

“Just want to see whatever you’ve got, if that’s okay.”

You realize what a predicament you’re in when he comes around your desk to peer at the screen, his large frame taking up more space than you’re prepared for. He’s close. He also smells really good, like clean laundry, and something woodsy… you clear your throat, pulling up the photos he wants to see.

“These are really good,” he murmurs, and you can just tell that he’s smiling.

You open your mouth to say something flirty, you hope, but you’re interrupted by F.R.I.D.A.Y.

“Sergeant Barnes? There’s a visitor waiting for you in the lobby.”

You can practically feel him tense up. Everyone he knows lives here.

“Who is it?”

“She says you met at the hospital, sir. Allison Smith?”

Bucky’s face screws up in confusion. He looks down at you. “I better go see what this is about.” He pauses, halfway to the door. “Thanks again,” he says, a slow, devastating smile stretching across his face. You feel your heart rate speed up again, and curse him under your breath when he leaves.

He’s definitely under your skin, and you just wish he wasn’t so… stupidly handsome. Maybe then you’d be able to just treat him like another coworker.

.

.

.

A few hours later, you’re in the common area looking for Pepper. You need her to sign off on a few marketing proposals, and want to ask her about the photos from the hospital trip. When you get to the sitting area, you’re struck by the sight of a small girl sitting there, a stuffed animal in her lap.

“Um.” You say out loud, not really expecting an answer.

“Who are you?” She asks loudly.

“Who am I?” You sputter, “I should be asking you that.”

“Do you have super powers?”

You blink. “What? No. I’m--”

“You’re just normal, then?” She asks, deadpan.

You open your mouth to reply but then Bucky and Steve come into the room, both with furrowed brows and slightly wide eyes. They look a little shell shocked. You’d laugh if you weren’t so confused.

“What’s with this…sassy lost child?”

“She ran away from home. I guess she hit it off with Bucky yesterday while we visited with her sister at the hospital, and wanted to come see him.” Steve says, and you watch as Bucky goes to sit next to the small girl, asking her something in a low, gentle voice.

“How did she get here?”

“Stole some money from her Mom’s purse and took a cab,” Steve scowls, but there’s a hint of amusement in his eyes. “Gotta give it to her, she’s got guts.”

Bucky, meanwhile, is showing the girl something on his tablet, the sound turned down but whatever it is makes her laugh. You can’t help but smile. Honestly… it’s like the universe is engineering these moments to force you to realize how attractive you find him.

“Her name is Allison.” Steve smiles, despite himself. “Her parents are on their way, but they live in the city. It’s going to be a little while. Any chance you can help keep her occupied?”

You snort. “I don’t know, she wasn’t very impressed with me.

Almost as if on cue, you feel someone tugging on your pant leg. “Excuse me? Mr. Bucky says you have a camera. A big one. Can I see it?”

You look over at Bucky, who shrugs.

“Sure thing,” You crouch down, “I might even know where we can get some candy, too.”

Allison’s eyes light up, her small hand gripping yours. You straighten up, deciding to throw caution to the wind. “Coming, Sergeant?” You ask, and Bucky’s eyes flash with… something, before he nods.

“Sure. Can’t leave my best girl alone, can I?” He asks, coming over to take Allison’s other hand.

You swallow hard, and the three of you start walking towards the elevators.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y. will let you know when her parents are here,” Steve calls, and Bucky waves his free hand over his head in acknowledgement.

The three of you make quite the sight walking through the halls of the compound, both holding hands with the small girl, who keeps chattering away, telling you both about her class at school.

You meet Bucky’s eyes over top of Allison’s head, and he raises his eyebrows as he smiles. You smile and duck your head, trying to figure out how you’re supposed to get through this day without turning into a literal puddle on the floor at Bucky’s feet.

In your office, Bucky takes up his spot by the door, sitting on the arm of a chair, arms crossed over his chest. Allison practically drags you to your desk, where your camera is sitting out.

You stand behind her to help her put the strap around her neck and show her how to look through the viewfinder. She giggles when Bucky makes a face at her when she aims the camera in his direction before snapping a photo. The sound is apparently satisfying, because she takes five more, and you step back, letting her do it on her own.

After an hour or so, she gets bored, and starts asking Bucky about his arm. At first you’re worried he might shut down, but he does the opposite. He gets down to her level and starts making up some grand story about how he got it, winking at you when he conveniently glosses over a lot of the details you know to be true.

F.R.I.D.A.Y. interrupts after a bit, letting you know that Allison’s parents are downstairs. The girl looks distraught.

“I’m gonna be in trouble!” She says, eyes welling up.

“I think we can work something out,” Bucky assures her, sweeping her up in his arms and tickling her sides as he pulls her over his shoulder. Her laugh is loud and bright, and you grin as you follow them out of the room and down to the elevator.

Steve is already there talking to Allison’s parents when you get to the lobby, Bucky holding Allison’s hand as you follow behind.

“I don’t want to go home,” She says sadly.

Bucky kneels down in front of her. “You can come visit whenever you want, okay? Just make sure your parents come with you next time.”

She nods. “Okay. Thank you, Mr. Bucky.” She looks up at you. “Will you be here next time I come, too?”

You’re a little surprised she even cares, considering what a big crush on Bucky she has. “If you want me to be, sure. I’ll let you help me take more pictures.”

She grins, giving Bucky one last hug before scampering over to her parents, who look equal parts upset and relieved to see her. After they leave, Steve heads off to who knows where, and you find yourself back in the elevator with Bucky.

You feel fidgety, like you don’t know what to say. You also feel like the air between you is charged, and it’s making you nervous.

“You were good with her,” you say finally, not able to stand the silence anymore.

He smiles softly. “I like her. She reminds me…” he trails off, shaking his head. “She reminds me of my kid sister.”

The smile on your face fades. He notices, and reassures you. “It’s okay.” He swallows, looks away for a moment. “You were good with her too. She liked you.”

You blush, “It helps when you have a camera.”

He scratches his beard. “She’s not the only one who likes you, you know?”

Before you can even formulate a response other than what is happening right now, the doors open, signalling your floor. He gestures for you to walk out ahead of him, and the rest of the walk to your office is silent. You think he can’t possibly have meant what you want him to mean. What reason would he have for liking you?

You’re moving around your desk trying desperately to put space between the two of you before he can say anything. “So, I’ll send you copies of those photos, and some of the ones Allison took today, if you want. If not, I’ll just--”

“Hey,” he says gently, coming up closer to you. “Hang on. If I was out of line back there, I’m sorry.”

Your brain is short circuiting. “No! No, you werent, I--” You’re flustered, unable to get your words out. All you know is you can’t let him leave. You stop yourself, briefly closing your eyes and taking a deep breath. “I like you. I do, but you make me so nervous.”

Bucky has the most smug smile on his face when you open your eyes. “Yeah?”

You roll your eyes. “Oh, god. Don’t let it go to your head.”

“I’ll try not to,” he says, smiling, his eyes intense on yours. “Any chance you’re free for dinner tonight?”

“I could probably pencil you in somewhere.”

A surprised laugh escapes him as he takes a few steps backwards out of your office, pointing at you. “Oh, you’re good. Yeah, see if you can make room for a recovering amnesiac to go out to dinner with a pretty girl, will you?”

Your mouth falls open. “Bucky! That’s not funny!”

He’s still grinning. “It was a little funny.”

“You’re… you’re so…”

He changes course, coming a few steps closer to you. “Go on…” His eyes are practically smoldering.

You blush furiously, trying not to keep smiling like a total idiot. This man just… god, he has a way of making you feel like a teenager again.

“I don’t have plans tonight.” You tell him.

Triumphantly, he claps his hands together. “Perfect how that worked out.”

“Uh huh.”

One more step closer.

“For the record, I’ve been trying to ask you out for weeks. You make me a little nervous, too.”

His voice is like honey poured over gravel. Smooth but rough at the same time. You think you’d listen to him read the phone book.

“Glad we’re on the same page, then.”

He hums in agreement, but whatever he was about to say next is interrupted by F.R.I.D.A.Y. saying he’s late for training with Natasha.

“Does seven work for you?” He asks.

“I suppose it does.”

He laughs again, the sound music to your ears. “Trouble. I should have known you’d be trouble.” He backs out of the room again. “I’ll see you at seven.”

You almost collapse into your desk chair when he leaves, struggling to keep your heart from beating its way right out of your chest. God. You have a date tonight. A date with Bucky Barnes.

Your computer still has that shot of Bucky and Sam pulled up, the one where he’s looking straight into the lens, and you can’t help the butterflies that start up in your stomach. You glance at your watch and suddenly can’t wait for seven o’clock to arrive.

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Black Hearted

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky’s very observant of you and he realizes that you only ever wear black. But why? Prompt: Why are you wearing so much black? Whose funeral is it? [I haven’t decided yet]

A/N: This is my entry for @kentuckybarnes ‘s 3k Writing Challenge. Congrats Hanah!!

Bucky was...soft on you. He’d never met anyone who was as beautiful, funny, witty, smart, and caring like you. Whenever you walked into a room, it lit up...despite you wearing your usual all black garb. 

That’s one thing Bucky first noticed about you: that you always wore all black. It was intriguing that someone with such a warm aura and personality to be wearing all black all the time. Was it your favorite color? Were you secretly mourning someone he didn’t know about? What was the secret? He had to find out. 

_____________________________

You were in the kitchen, cooking up tonight’s dinner with Bucky right beside you as he chopped the veggies. It was just you and him alone in the kitchen. 

He glanced towards you, taking in your black tank top with black leggings. The only color you had on was the apron wrapped around you. This was the perfect time to figure out why black. He cleared his throat, grabbing your attention, “So I have to ask: Why are you wearing so much black? Whose funeral is it?”

You chuckled and gave him a shrug, “I haven’t decided yet.” 

“That so?” he cocks a brow at you, which makes you giggle. 

“Maybe I just like to be prepared so whenever someone dies?”

Bucky shook his head, “That’s too dark for someone like you to be sayin’, doll?”

“Someone like me, Buck?” you tilted your head to the side, a curious and playful gaze in your eyes.  

Bucky set the chopping knife down. He turned to you and leaned against the counter, “Someone so sweet like you. Someone who’s the personification of sunshine.”

You couldn’t help but throw your head back in laughter, “Well thank you for that interesting compliment! And to answer your question, black is just an easy color to shop for. You can find anything in black and I look good in it. So that’s why I stick to it. Plus, it makes me look intimidating, yeah?”

Bucky snorted, “Not with that gorgeous smile, doll. You may dress like a black-hearted dame, but once that smile shows, you’re just a cute, fluffy lil’ thing.”

You rolled your eyes at him, “And what about you mister former assassin? You have this tough and scary facade yet everyone knows what a sweetheart you are! You’re always helping me out, making me smile and laugh, being there for me-”

“‘I’m only sweet for you, Y/N.”

You stepped closer and gazed back into his enchanting blue eyes, “Oh yeah? Why’s that, Barnes?”

The corners of his mouth perked up into a smile, “Ain’t it obvious?”

“I wanna hear you say it,” you mumbled.

“I-,” he paused and cleared his throat, “I like you, Y/N.”

You beamed, “Say it again?”

“I like you,” he repeated.

“One more time?”

“I li-mmf!” his words went unfinished as you pressed your lips to his. One of Bucky’s hands then cupped your face, while the other pulled you closer to him to deepen the kiss. 

Bucky pulled away, his face scrunched up in distaste. Your heart fell through your stomach. You cautiously asked, , “That bad?”

He shook his head and murmured, “Food’s burning.”

Your eyes widened and faced the stove, “CRAP!” You shot Bucky a glare as he laughed at you, “This is your fault!”

He held his hands up in defense, “Hey now, doll, you kissed me!”

“Well if you weren’t so looking so cute with that blush on your face and telling me you liked me-”

“You told me to tell you-”

“-I wouldn’t have kissed-”

“Well I definitely don’t regret you kissing-”

“Is something burning?” you both turned to see a very concerned looking Steve.

Immediately you and Bucky pointed fingers at each other saying, “She-He did it!”

[buckthegrump]

GSW

Summary: After getting injured in Brooklyn, Steve forces Bucky to visit the local VA hospital.

Warnings: gun violence (nothing graphic or major), some swearing, fluff, ???

Word Count: 1884

A/N: This is for hannah’s ( @kentuckybarnes ) writing challenge congrats on 3k . also i got the idea from a post I saw on here but I don’t remember who’s but here we are

Bucky knew Steve was prone to doing stupid shit. But the punk had really outdone himself this time.

“Stop glaring at me,” Steve huffed.

“I’ll stop glaring when you stop doing stupid shit,” Bucky said through gritted teeth.

“I don’t see how this is my fault,” Steve shrugged.

Bucky scoffed out a laugh.

That morning Steve had forced Bucky out of bed and said that the two of them were taking the day off. Bucky had thought it was a good idea so went along with no fight. So Steve and Bucky made their way to Brooklyn. They walked around the place that they used to call home and mad ‘old man’ comments about the different building and the Starbucks that used to be drugstores or a candy shop.

At one point Bucky and Steve had gotten separated, Bucky snuck off to the bathroom and when he got back to where he left Steve, the punk was gone.

Bucky didn’t have any clue as to where Steve could’ve gone. Until he heard the familiar sound of punches being thrown.

Bucky inwardly groaned and made his way to the alley that the noises were coming from.

The sight of Steve fighting two men was familiar, although this time Steve was the one who towered over them and was able to hold his own.

“Are you kidding me right now?” Bucky asked.

He walked into the alley and started helping Steve. Bucky landed on punch on one of the guys and knocked him out. A second later the sound of a gunshot echoed through the alley. Bucky and Steve paused and looked to the second guy who was standing there with a gun pointed at Bucky.

Bucky looked down to see his grey shirt stained red on his right side. He looked back to the guy with the gun.

“Ouch!” Was all Bucky said.

Steve swiftly grabbed the gun and kicked the guy in the chest sending him back into the brick wall and knocking him out.

Steve had demanded that they go to the VA hospital that was only a block or two away. Bucky had fought that, saying that he could make it back to the compound. But once Bucky winced as he started walking Steve won the argument.

They finally got out of the waiting room and into an exam room.

Being a nurse was always interesting. Especially at the VA. You were never sure what kind of people you would meet. Typically it was old veterans that liked to flirt they younger nurses, most of the time it wasn’t in a creepy way typically when men did the creepy flirting it was the men closer to your age.

There were also the very few time's veterans would bring in one of their children in for a check-up.

“Y/n,” Addy came over and handed you a tablet, “there’s a guy who needs a check-up and I’m off. And no, I will not stay and do this for you. So have fun!”

Addy walked away before you could protest.

“Ha, ha,” Lacey laughed at you, “it’s probably some old guy who’s gonna be creepy.”

“Thanks, Lace,” you got up and walked to the Exam room.

You walked into the room and your eyes land on the one and only Captain America. You stopped in your tracks.

“Um, good afternoon I’m Y/n,” you said.

“Steve,” he said and stepped to the side revealing the former Winter Soldier, “This is my very idiotic friend Bucky, he needs medical attention.”

“And who’s fault is that?” Bucky groaned.

Bucky finally looked at you and his mouth hung open.

Steve sat in the chair next to the exam table and started thumbing through a magazine.

“Ok, well I have to do some intake paperwork, so I’m going to ask you some questions,” you told him and unlocked the tablet.

He answered the questions with no problems. You had a little trouble with getting the system to accept his age but it finally got it.

“And what brings you in today, Mr. Barnes?” You asked and Steve laughed.

“Please, call me Bucky,” Bucky said while Steve continued to laugh.

“I feel like that should be closer to the start of the questioning,” Steve muttered.

“Rogers,” Bucky scorned.

“What?” You looked at the two of them, “Am I missing something?”

“Unzip your jacket Barnes,” Steve ordered.

Bucky looked at you and kept eye contact while he unzipped his jacket. You looked down to his side.

“Is that a gunshot wound?” You walked over to him and pushed the jacket to the side so you could see if the gunshot was through and through. “You still have a bullet in you.”

“Can even give them an easy wound could you?” Steve commented from the chair.

“This is still your fault,” Bucky told him.

“How are you guys so calm about this?” You muttered and rushed to get the doctor.

“You like her,” Steve smirked.

“Shut up.” Bucky watched as you rushed out the door.

“I cannot believe that you got to help Bucky Barnes, he’s so hot,” Addy said bitterly the next day as she sat next to you.

“It’s your fault,” you reminded her and she waved you off.

“Did you get his number?” Lacey asked.

You glared at her.

“That’s wildly inappropriate Lacey, I can’t get the number of a patient while he has a gunshot wound,” you said.

“What about an ex-patient with a healed wound?” A voice came from behind you.

You turned and saw Bucky Barnes standing there.

“What about ‘em?” You asked a smile tugging at your lips.

“Do you exchange numbers with them?” He asked shyly, “Or is that also wildly inappropriate?”

You glanced at Addy and Lacey who were staring at you expectedly.

“Well, I don’t typically give my number to 100-year-old men, just as a general rule.”

“But what if they’re a supersoldier and are pretty spry for their old age?”

“Oh well, that’s a case to case basis,” you said.

“Hmm,” he hummed, “what about my case?”

You grabbed the sticky note pad and write down your name and number. Ripping off the paper you got up from your spot and walked over to him and handed it to him.

“Don’t blow this,” you told him.

He smirked and gave you a wink, “wouldn’t dream of it.”

You were nervous.

You looked at yourself in the mirror again and had to stop yourself from going and changing again because Bucky would be here at any moment.

Bucky had texted you an hour after getting your number, then proceeded to ask you on a date rather promptly, claiming that even though he was enjoying the technology from the 21st century he preferred getting to know people in person. Not that you minded at all.

A moment later you got a text from Bucky telling you that he was downstairs. You made it down the stairs in record time.

When you’re face to face with him you momentarily forgot to breathe. He was wearing all black with the sleeves of his button up rolled up 3/4s of the way.

“Hey,” he breathed.

“Hi,” you beamed.

“Ready to go?” He grabbed the door handle and you nodded. “I didn’t know how you felt about motorcycles so I figured we could walk to the restaurant but if that doesn’t work I can call a cab  or -”

“Walking in fine,” you stopped him.

You were instantly grateful that you had chosen flats instead of heels tonight.

He offered you his right arm and you hooked your arm through his, and the two of you started walking.

“So,” he said, “how did you become a nurse?”

“By going to school,” you teased.

“Ha, you’re funny. I meant what made you want to become a nurse?”

“I just like helping people,” you said, “which reminds me.  How did you end up in my hospital with a gunshot wound?”

“Oh well, the star-spangled man with a plan got into a tussle with two ragamuffins,” Bucky shrugged and you burst out into laughter, “what?”

“I’m sorry, you just said ‘tussle with two ragamuffins’ with the straightest face,” you wheezed.

“You know it’s not very nice to make fun of your elders.”

“Yeah well,” you looked at his face to see he was looking at you, “I think you can handle it.”

“I like the sound of your laugh,” he admitted. His eyes widened and he turned to look at where he was leading you.

You gasped slightly, “Mr. Barnes do I make you nervous?”

“Oh look we’re here!” He said pointing to a diner.

You shook your head letting the question go.

Once you two had sat down and ordered you tried to think of a question to ask that you didn’t already know the answer to.

“Sorry,” Bucky apologized.

“Why are you apologizing?”

“I fell like I should be better at this,” he admitted.

“I don’t know when the last time you went on a date was -”

“In the ’40s.”

“Well, this is how first dates work, awkward silences. Besides, it’s kind of my fault,” you told him.

“How so?” He asked.

“Well, if I didn’t go to the Captain America exhibit at the Smithsonian as many times as I did, I would probably have more things to ask you.”

“So you know all about me?” He asked looking a little defeated.

“Well, clearly not all about you.”

“But you know about the things I’ve done?” He looked at you as you nodded.

He put his head in his hands and sighed.

“You’re acting like I don’t want to be on this date,” you said and he looked up at you hopefully, “I could’ve easily canceled besides, we shouldn’t be talking about the messy parts of our pasts until at least date 3.”

The waitress brought over your food and placed it in front of you.

“So you want more dates with me?” He teased.

“Ok, we just got our food, slow down there ragamuffin,” you widened your eyes at him.

“What?”

“Oh man,” you pull out your phone and type something in.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m changing your name in my phone to ragamuffin.”

He groaned and you laughed at him.

“I do have a question for you. Why was the howling commando’s exhibit in the air and space section? The last time I heard about Captain America flying a plane he crashed it and disappeared for 70 years.”

Bucky laughed and launched into a story that had nothing to do with the question but you enjoyed it anyway.

At the end of the night, Bucky walked you back to your building and stood with you for a moment.

“So do you still want more dates with me?” he asked.

“Well, I mean I do have a great nickname for you -”

“When’s your next night off?”

“Friday,” you cocked your eyebrow, “Isn’t that a little soon for date number two?”

“I’d say it wasn’t soon enough if that didn’t make me sound creepy -”

“It won’t,” you smiled at him.

“Well then, Friday.”

“8 o’clock,” you agreed. “But this time I pick the place.”

“Sounds perfect,” he whispered and kissed your cheek.

You watched him as he walked to his motorcycle. You couldn’t wait until Friday.

[winterscript]

A Scream in the Night (one-shot)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Genre: Fluff(???), soulmate AU

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1k

Summary: Bucky wakes up in the middle of the night to the sound of a scream coming from your bedroom.

A/N: This was written for @kentuckybarnes‘s 3k writing challenge! My prompt was dodecahedron. This fic was kind of a practice run for me, as it’s been a year since I’ve written and I’m trying to figure these two out. Though this is a one-shot, these characters and their universe will eventually have their own multi-chapter fic!

Bucky’s eyes flew open, tension rendering his muscles still. His breath was caught in his throat – something’s wrong.

The air in his bedroom was still. Bucky slowly lifted himself into a sitting position, listening carefully for the sound that had awakened him. He wasn’t about to go charging out to look until he heard it again, though he wasn’t entirely sure that what he heard was real – nightmares and whatnot.

The red glare of the clock told him it was close to one in the morning. Surely no one else was awake? Bucky must have woken himself again-

A scream, muffled.

From your room.

Bucky was out his bedroom door before he even realized what he was doing, caution left behind in the tousled sheets. He hadn’t brought any weapons with him, but if someone had broken in and was hurting you…

He threw open the door to your room, heart pumping, ready to face whatever came his way. What faced him, however, was not at all what he’d been expecting. There were no intruders. No one had taken you. In fact, there you were, huddled under your blankets, computer screen lighting up your face as you stared at him. He could hear your heart pounding just as hard as his had been.

Bucky opened his mouth, then promptly closed it. You stared back at him in similar silence. After a long pause, you finally spoke. “Bucky? Is something wrong?”

“I, uh. I heard a scream. I thought…”

He trailed off, breaking eye contact. You could feel heat creeping up your cheeks as you realized what had happened.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” God, how embarrassing. “It’s just – well, here I’ll show you.”

You spun your laptop around to face him. He took a few steps closer, squinting against the light of your screen. You watched his face as he took in the image before him: 4 different shots, with 3 people in largest two, one in the top left, and a terrain map with minis in the bottom corner. His brows pulled together, shooting a look at you.

“What is this?”

Your face was burning. “Um, it’s a, uh, it’s a Dungeons and Dragons stream. Critical Role…”

Bucky didn’t look any less confused. You rather liked this look on him. It was much different from the severe face he usually showed. “It’s a what? What’s Dungeons and Dragons?”

Oh god. You really didn’t want to have to explain yourself – you’d been made fun of enough about it. Plus, you really didn’t want to give Bucky any other reasons to dislike you. Not that you thought he would make fun of you necessarily, but it seemed that he would take any ammunition he could to hate you. Not that he was hostile lately-

Stop it. You were going to think a hole straight through the floor.

“It’s a tabletop roleplaying game from the 80s. It’s made a comeback recently.” That was as far as you were willing to explain. This was one of your passions, and you didn’t want him to say anything that could ruin it for you. That, and you knew that once you started talking, you wouldn’t stop.

Bucky gave you an inquisitive look, one dark eyebrow raised. “Why were you screaming?”

You slid your laptop back onto your lap, not wanting to look into his piercing blue eyes any longer. It felt like the temperature in the room had raised a few degrees with your embarrassment. Of course, it was your fault he was here. He’d heard your excitement and must have thought the worst.

“Well,” you started quietly. “Caleb just gave the dodecahedron to the Bright Queen. It’s kind of a big deal.”

Awkward silence settled between the two of you yet again. How could you get him to leave? Your episode had finished right before Bucky had burst through your door and scared you half to death. You needed time to process what had just happened.

“What does that mean?” he asked, inching a little closer. He was just standing there by your bed, peering at you with those damned blue eyes. So, it seemed he was intent on opening Pandora’s Box tonight.

“Well,” you started, abandoning all thoughts of the situation at hand. You began explaining the premise of the show, trying to keep from using too much terminology so you wouldn’t have to explain yourself further.

Bucky’s eyes never once left your face. He seemed to be paying close attention to every word that came out of your mouth, but there was no cruelty behind it. He seemed genuinely interested in what you were saying. You’d never seen him look at you this way before. 

Your hand found its way it your forearm, rubbing against the black letters scrawled into your skin. A similar mark was on Bucky’s right forearm, currently hidden from view. Unfortunately, he didn’t miss the way your eyes glanced down to take a peek.

The hard lines you were used to settled back onto his handsome face and your rant trailed off into silence. He was staring at your mark now – at the way his name was written across your skin in his own handwriting. Eventually, his piercing blue eyes met yours again. There was something about the way he was looking at you that made your heart sink.

“Do you wanna try watching with me?” you blurted out. “I mean, obviously we’ll have to start from the first episode. Otherwise you’ll be confused, and I don’t want to spoil more than I already have.”

His smile was absolutely disarming. He looked so...happy. It was making your head spin.

“I’ll give it a try.”

Did he just say yes?

You scooted over to the other side of your bed and patted the space next to you, heart fluttering. The next few hours were spent in your bed, mere inches apart, laughing and enjoying something you loved. Together.

In times like these, it was easy to think you could love him. He was relaxed and having fun and enjoying time with you. It was easiest in these moments to imagine a future with him. Your soulmate.

[littledarlinwrites]

Black Velvet Miniseries

Part 1: Kickstart My Heart

Black Velvet Miniseries Masterlist

Rockstar!Bucky Barnes x Photographer!Reader

Word Count: 3287

Author’s Note: This is for @kentuckybarnes 3K Writing Challenge. Hannah, thank you so much once again for allowing me the chance to participate and giving me the idea of a Rockstar!Bucky, without you this never would have been written. Also, special thanks to my wonderful beta reader @lokissoul for reading this over and reminding me not to get so stuck in my and be more confident in my writing, you’re a doll! Also, a final tag for @star-spangled-bingo for my Rockstar AU square. 

Summary: The Avengers start their first tour after making their big break. They say Rockstars never die, but is that true? Will the band recover after having it all to nearly losing their lives in one night?

Warnings: I don’t want to give anything away, but there is a car/bus accident scene in here, and therefore a bit of angst. Let me be clear that nobody dies though. Emotional Bucky.

They had it all. The crowd was wild, they were covered in sweat, and they wouldn’t have it any other way.

“You’ve all been great tonight! Let’s hear it for everyone that helped put on this show though!” The crowd erupted into cheers that shook the floor beneath Steve’s feet. “Remember to tip the wait staff and don’t text and drive!” Steve bade the crowd his goodnight parting words before walking off the stage. The rest of the band was backstage packing up their instruments and wiping the sweat off their faces. The post-show adrenaline was pumping through their veins and they felt untouchable. They had been working so hard for this break, and the pay off tasted sweeter than they thought possible.

“That was awesome!” Clint exclaimed pumping his fist that was gripping a broken drumstick. His face was still beat red from the exertion of playing his heart out on his drum set. Bucky chuckled at the man’s antics before speaking up himself.

“That was more than awesome, man. I’ve never felt more alive!” Bucky said jumping to his feet after closing his bass guitar case.

“Alright guys, hate to kill the vibe, but we’ve got to get a move on tonight so we can get to the next venue and beat traffic!” Pepper said while directing the crew and answering questions. A chorus of groans followed her statement.

“Guys, I’m sure Pepper wouldn’t mind the party continuing on the bus, where there are two fully stocked mini bars I might add!” Tony spoke up before kissing Pepper on the cheek. Pepper managed the band, and Tony worked lights and tech, but they worked together on getting everybody to one place.

“Anyone touch my vodka and I’ll bash your head in with my guitar.” Natasha piped up, her arms wrapped around Bruce, but loosening their hold.

“Don’t worry my Song Bird, I already hid it,” Bruce said smiling. Natasha wrapped her arms around him tightly again before pulling away to pick up her guitar and head towards the tour bus to snag the shower before anyone else did.

“Hey Tony, is there any mead in those mini bars?” Thor secretively asked with his guitar case slung over his back.

“Bottom shelf, buddy.” Tony tells him before Thor walks away nodding to him with a smile. Clint joined him as the crew hauled away his broken down drum set, talking to Thor about the third song in their set.

“Looks like it’s you and me pal.” Steve spoke to Bucky as they began making their way to the bus.

“I’m with you ‘til the end of the line, pal, but tomorrow night we are getting dates.” Bucky said with a chuckle, causing Steve to break out into a laugh.

“Let’s go before they drink all the booze. You know Thor is a bottomless pit.”

“I still swear that guy isn’t human with his tolerance.”

As Steve and Bucky joined the others on the tour bus drinks were thrusted into their hands by Tony. Clint and Thor were still avidly talking about the set they had just performed. Natasha was sitting beside Bruce, her hair still wet and eyes glued to her phone to mess with the playlist that was booming through the speakers. Tony pulled Pepper over to the couch and pulled out a deck of cards and motioned to Steve and Bucky asking if they wanted to play. Considering the male to female ratio, and the fact that the women there were spoken for they played a different version of strip poker, instead of stripping they would drink. Steve had a surprisingly good poker face, much to the chagrin of Thor. Natasha had the best poker face, while Bruce had the worst. So far Thor and Bruce were tied at how much games each of them lost. Natasha and Bucky were tied at how many games each of them won. Clint was texting on his phone not even paying attention to the game any longer. Pepper was talking to the driver about where they had to go next and the itinerary for the next couple of days, and Tony and Steve were trying to out-maneuver the other. Eventually Tony threw down his cards in frustration.

“That’s it lady and gents, I’m out for the night.”

“Sounds like someone’s tired of getting their butt kicked to me.” Steve said, not quite under his breath, mockingly. Tony shot Steve a dirty look and began to open his mouth when Pepper sat on his lap completely halting his train of thought. Bucky clapped his hand on Steve’s shoulder before announcing that he was heading to bed before he got dragged into another game. Clint seconded him and followed Bucky to the back of the bus and claiming the bottom center bunk. Tony began feeling drowsy from the alcohol in his system and decided to make his leave.

“Pep’ honey, I’m gonna go grab a bunk in the back, join me?”

“As soon as we cross state lines, shouldn’t be too long now. Save me some room?”

“You betcha.” Tony hums to her before giving her a kiss goodnight and making his way to the bunk that was sounding cozier by the second. Steve helped Pepper clean up the poker game and various empty glasses. Thor was reading a book on one couch while on the other Natasha was running her hands through Bruce’s hair, who had fallen asleep on the couch beside her. Beside Pepper at the sink Steve spoke up while rinsing out some of the glasses..

“I know I’ve thanked you before Pepper, but we wouldn’t be here on this tour bus without you. I don’t know how you manage to deal with us all sometimes, but I just want you to know that we all appreciate it.”

“Thank you, St-” Pepper was suddenly cut off from a resounding bang from the back of the bus and the bus then lurching violently forward throwing Steve and Pepper off their feet and to the floor. The bus slowly came to a stop on the eerily silent highway.

“Everyone okay?” The tour bus driver shouted out while checking his rearview mirrors before looking behind him into the bus.

“Uhm, I don’t know. What the hell was that?” Steve spoke up as he helped Pepper to her feet. Pepper looked around before making her way to the back of the bus. Steve walked up to the bus driver.

“Looks like a semi behind us, must have hit us. I’m gonna step out and see how bad it is and call 911.” The bus driver said before letting himself off the bus with his phone in hand. Steve turned around when he heard a blood-curdling scream that made his blood run cold. He ran to the back of the bus where Pepper stood frozen. Clint was trying to guide her out of the bunk area when Steve noticed the thin line of blood coming from his ear and panic shot through his veins. Steve looked into the bottom right bunk that was at the very back of the bus and what he saw made his heart stop. Inside Bucky's bunk was not only Bucky, but part of the semi that crashed into the tour bus. A very pale Bucky laid in his bunk knocked out and his left arm was missing. Steve reached out two fingers to his best friends neck looking for a pulse. His hands were shaking so much he almost didn’t feel the faint pulse, but when he did he let out a sigh of relief. Steve began pulling his belt from his waist before carefully climbing over bucky and using it as a makeshift tourniquet to keep Bucky from losing anymore blood. Steve knew from his mom being a nurse that no matter how much he wanted to get his best friend out of there that he had to leave him there for the paramedics, otherwise he could risk paralyzing Bucky if he wasn’t already. Steve took a deep breath and did the hardest thing he’s ever had to do in his life and turn his back to Bucky. He took a step forward and looked into the bunk that caused Pepper to scream. Tony laid there with pieces of shrapnel in his chest. For the second time that night Steve reached out with two fingers to find a pulse. Tony’s pulse was also faint, but it was still there. At that moment Steve heard the sound of sirens quickly approaching and prayed that his friends would get to a hospital in time.

With Bruce in front, Natasha road with Pepper in the back of the ambulance carrying Tony to the hospital while Thor took the front and Steve and Clint road in the back of the ambulance that carried Bucky. Before Steve knows it, they’re at the hospital and Bucky and Tony are rushed back into the OR while Clint is ushered to the ER and the rest are left in the waiting room. Steve sits in the chair wringing his hands. Staring at them. He can’t help but be disgusted with the amount of Bucky’s blood that is still on them. He gets up and heads to the restroom to wash them and scrubs them until they are raw. He walks back into the waiting room and eye’s the group. Natasha had headed to the ER room that Clint was in to check on him. Thor was pacing the room. Bruce was outside smoking a cigarette, a stress habit he had quit a couple of months ago, but tonight it was back in full swing. Pepper sat in the corner crying constantly looking up at the clock or the doors every time she heard a shoe squeak across the shiny tile floor. The hospital had that sterile smell hanging in the air that made Steve’s stomach lurch. He took a seat, put his head in his hands, and waited.

An hour and a half later, Clint and Natasha join them in the waiting room. Clint silently takes a seat beside Steve and leans forward to put his head in his hands. Steve looks to Natasha having noticed the devastated look on Clint’s face. Natasha fixed the grimace from her face and took a deep breath before she spoke, leaning into Bruce for comfort.

“The accident caused Clint’s eardrums to rupture. That’s why there was blood, he uhm, he’ll need hearing aids to be able to hear again.” Bruce wrapped his arm tighter around Natasha to comfort her. Steve shook his head before putting a comforting arm around Clint’s shoulders. Clint looked up at Steve, and he saw his bloodshot eyes. The night seemed like it would never end. Another hour and a half later, a doctor still in scrubs walks out of the OR doors. Everyone’s heads lift up and their stomachs fill with dread. In this moment they would find out the status of one of their friends. And they weren’t ready for the news if it was bad.

“Barnes family?” The doctor called out. Steve raised to his feet and made his way over to the doctor. He felt as if his heart was going to beat out of his chest.

“Is he-” Steve clears his throat as he trips on the words. “Is he okay, doc?”

“He no longer has a left arm. He’ll have to stay in the hospital for at least the next two weeks as he recovers. He’s gonna be in a lot of pain, however, he should make a full recovery. As soon as the nurses get him situated in a room one will come out and take you to him. He wouldn’t be here if someone hadn’t fastened their belt as a tourniquet. I’m not gonna sugar coat it, he’s got a long road ahead of him, son.” The doctors noted somberly before walking away. Steve lets out a breath he’s been holding and his shoulders drop slightly from all the tension he had been holding in anticipation. Natasha walked up to Steve to see what the doctor had said fearing the worst.

“He’s okay.” Steve managed to croak out before tears of relief shed down his face. Natasha wrapped her arms around him while shooting the others behind him a thumbs up to let them know Bucky was okay. The sigh of relief from the group was audible, and as the doctor said, a nurse was out shortly taking Steve, Natasha, and Clint to Bucky’s room. Another painstaking forty-three minutes later another doctor walks out of the OR.

“Stark?” The doctor called out looking around the room.

“Uh, yeah, that’s uhm, that’s me.” Pepper spoke up clumsily.

“He made it out of surgery fine and we were able to remove most of the shrapnel. There are a few pieces left behind that were too difficult to risk removing so he’ll have to get regular doctors visits to keep an eye on them, but other than that he should make a full recovery. A nurse will be out shortly to let you know where his room is.” Pepper let out an audible cry of relief at the news, throwing her arms around Bruce in a hug. Thor wrapped his arms around the both of them.

Steve sat on Bucky’s right at his bedside listening to the strong and steady beat of Bucky’s heart. He could hear Clint tapping his fingers to the steady rhythm against his legs, he didn’t know if Clint could hear the loud beeping or if it was a result of him watching the heart monitor. Everything was sinking in for Steve and he was exhausted. However, he couldn’t wrap his mind around how fast things had changed in an instant. Steve didn’t know what they were going to do for once in his life.

The next couple days passed by in a blur. Tony was the first to wake up, and Pepper couldn’t stop crying when she saw him open his dark chocolate brown eyes. Another day later Bucky woke up only to be sedated when he started panicking when he saw a doctor and noticed his missing arm. He slept for another day before he woke up again. Steve was more prepared for his reaction this time, and was the first person he saw instead of some stranger. When Steve explained to Bucky what happened Bucky started crying. He didn’t like crying in front of people, but the weight of everything seemed to crash down around him. Everything they had been working for was gone. He couldn’t play his bass guitar anymore, Clint couldn’t hear, Tony would be living in fear that a piece of leftover shrapnel could kill him one day. Bucky couldn’t even begin to wrap his mind around the fact that his arm was gone. The phantom pain taunted him and was a constant reminder that he would never be the same. Eventually the doctor got him set up with a special type of physical therapy for amputees. They called it mirror box therapy, basically Bucky would complete physical therapy in front a of a mirror to re-map neural pathways in his brain so his mind could register that his limb was no longer there. At first it just seemed like another cruel reminder to him. He hated looking at himself in the mirror now.

Once Bucky completed his physical therapy his doctor talked to him about a new arm. There was an experimental program for a prosthetic that would allow Bucky to have some feeling and potentially be able to play his guitar again. Bucky jumped at the opportunity and the doctor put him in contact with Doctor Shuri who would have the new prosthetic fitted for him and would help him adjust to his new life style.

It took Bucky a bit to get used to his new arm, but it didn’t lack dexterity and the first day with his new arm he locked himself in his room in the apartment he shared with Steve and practiced strumming on his guitar. It was clumsy at first, he often pressed down on more than one chord when he didn’t mean to. He almost gave up until Steve suggested plucking with his metal arm and putting the fret in his right. It took some adjustments, and Bucky had to get his guitar re-stringed so the strings would be in the correct order again, but slowly he regained his first real sense of normalcy. It took months, but eventually the guys in the band started practicing again. Clint had to adjust the sensitivity of his hearing aids a couple times, and Bucky fumbled more than he’d like to admit, but eventually the band hammered out the basics of covers of songs they knew by heart that helped them get noticed, and some original songs of theirs.

When the first anniversary of the accident came they had a bonfire on Clint’s farm in upstate New York. They sat around the fire talking about life and eventually talking about the shows they played. They missed it. They missed playing in front of a crowd. They missed the adrenaline after the show. By the end of the night, they called up Pepper with their decision that within six months, they would be back on the road. They had been practicing, that had healed, and they had the workings for a new album. Steve had dealt with the accident by not only writing music, but drawing up album artwork that at the time he thought would never see the light of day.

The following week the band met up at the studio and locked themselves away for 3 weeks working on the new songs until the album was finished. Pepper began contacting and booking venues. The band was worried that with the accident happening so soon after their break into the industry they may have slipped off the radar. That was until the most esteemed rock music magazine contacted Pepper when they caught buzz that the band would begin playing again. Shield magazine had interviewed the likes of Marvin Gaye, Nirvana, Foo Fighters, Motley Crue, Led Zeppelin, and countless others that the band looked up to. The magazine wanted to send out an interviewer and photographer to their first show to get their comeback story. Pepper granted them access, and the band was simultaneously more excited and more anxious for their first show. Bucky was a bundle of raw nerves. He was terrified that people would look at him differently with his prosthetic, or that he would fumble and screw up the show in front of a huge audience considering the show had sold out the day tickets were released. The night of the show Bucky thought he might actually throw up on stage. Steve had to give him a pep talk to calm him down.

“You’re gonna do fine Buck. You’ve put in countless hours practicing and dare I say, you may even sound better now than you did before. You got this man. Either way, I’m with you ‘til the end of the line.” Steve told Bucky with his hands on his shoulders. Steve knew how insecure Bucky was about his arm, always covering up the black and gold-toned prosthetic.

“Thanks punk.” Bucky replied to Steve after taking a deep breath. Bucky pulled his bass out of its case and slung the strap around his right shoulder. He practiced a few runs to calm his nerves before plugging his bass into the amp. Each of the band members took one last look at each other heading on stage for the first time since their lives had changed twice in one night.

Tags:

@letstalkaboutsebbaby @itsbuckysworld @caitfairwrites @xxloki81xx

[as-write-as-rain]

Love Song

Pairing: Bassist!Bucky x Singer!Reader

Summary: Everyone in this band is your best friend, but you wish the bassist was a little more than that.

Warnings: PG Language. Lots of Fluff!

This is for @kentuckybarnes' 3k Writing Challenge! Here's your Rockstar!AU one-shot featuring Bucky w/ a Bass, I hope you enjoy it!! Here's my first attempt at fanfiction, and I've probably been overthinking it, but I'm fairly happy with the result. Please be kind!

You drew your coat tighter around yourself, hurrying across the quiet street. The streetlight illuminated the snow drifting through the air, giving a peaceful feeling to the night…but you barely even noticed. You were running late for practice, and you really weren’t in the mood to hear another lecture from Steve – not after the day you’d had. Work had been busy as hell, because someone had called in sick and you had to pick up the slack; then, when you’d finally clocked out and headed to class, you got your philosophy paper back with a big fat D at the top. All you wanted to do right now was hang out somewhere warm with your favorite people in the world and make some music. Luckily, you were finally on your way there now!

Everyone looked up as you (accidentally) slammed the door open to Steve’s apartment. Tossing them a “sorry!” cringe, you stomped your boots on the mat, trying to dislodge as much snow as you could. The last thing you needed was a bunch of puddles creating a real safety hazard in the middle of your jam session! Stuffing your hat and scarf into a pocket, you hung your coat from one of the hooks on the wall, and joined your friends in the living room.

“’Bout time you got here, girl – we were wondering where you were!” Sam’s voice, dripping in sarcasm, made it crystal clear how he felt about having had to wait for you, and the withering look you shot him in response only made him laugh. You’d been friends since third grade, and always liked to give each other a hard time. Carol was setting up her keyboard, but she tossed you one of her patented wry smiles, her twinkling eyes speaking volumes about what she thought of Sam’s antics. Thankfully, Steve was engrossed in a pile of papers and only glanced up briefly enough to give you a quick nod as you passed, before returning to his work.

You took a deep breath to mentally prepare yourself before turning towards the couch, where you had already spied Bucky out of the corner of your eye. He had one leg up on the edge of the couch where he was tuning his bass, but as you approached he looked up and smiled. You steadfastly ignored the way it made your heart squeeze, and just gave him a breezy smile in return, dropping your laptop bag onto the cushions with a little more force than you meant to.

He instinctively leaned a little closer to you, and, in a quiet voice, asked, “How’s it going?” You glanced over, appreciating the way he tried to keep the question just between the two of you, instead of involving the whole room in the conversation. His attention was focused on the tuning pegs, but when you didn’t answer right away he looked over at you, tossing his head slightly so his shoulder-length hair fell back from his grey-blue eyes.

You sighed. “It’s going.” His expression turned sympathetic, and, with a half-shrug, you elaborated, “Today was kinda shit, but now I’m here and ready to rock out with you guys.”

His eyes searched yours, trying to make sure you were really okay, and the kindness and concern you saw in them made you secretly weak. “Well, I’m always here for you, if you wanna talk about it later.”

“Thanks, Buck,” was all you trusted yourself to say, and, with a small smile, you busied yourself with pulling out your music while he finished tuning his instrument. After a few seconds you peeked back at him out of the corner of your eye. His hair had fallen back across his face, and what you could see of his expression was once again serious. His focus was back on his gleaming silver guitar with its single bright red star, and you let your gaze linger on his lips before dropping to admire the way his muscles flexed while tuning it. Had he been working out? You could have sworn they were even bigger than usual, and he’d never been scrawny to begin with.

Steve cleared his throat and you quickly looked up to where he was standing in the middle of the room. “Anytime you’re ready, Y/N.” Trying not to look guilty (did he catch you checking Bucky out? Or is he just annoyed that you were late?), you nodded and stepped over to the mic.

Closing your eyes, you took three deep breaths, releasing the stress of the day and the pressures of the world; leaving behind the Harried Barista, Stressed College Student, and Pining Best Friend parts of your personality in favor of fully embodying your Rock Goddess persona. Everything that happened before this moment, you let fall away; right now, there was only you and the music. When you opened your eyes again, you felt fierce and self-possessed, filled with a deadly calm and ready to sing your heart out.

Carol was already poised, hands on the keys, and Sam sat behind his drum set, both of them looking to Steve, who was holding his guitar and tapping his foot to set the rhythm for the first song. Bucky got into position and faced forward, eyes on you. This was always his favorite part, watching you come alive in front of the mic. He saw your eyes open and your whole posture change, and he smiled to himself. Now we can rock.

Steve started first, then Sam, Carol, and Bucky last of all. You guys knew this song forwards and backwards, so it was almost like a warm-up for you. You grabbed the mic and started out quiet, gradually getting louder as the song built. It was so familiar and so freeing that you were grinning by the time the song was over. A glance at the rest of your friends told you they felt the same way.

The five of you had been friends forever, and Future Captains grew naturally out of your shared love of music. It started out as a fun project, but soon you realized you sounded really good together. Eventually, you’d all gotten kind of serious about it, and everyone had come into their own: Steve (and sometimes Carol) provided additional vocals, Sam was a genius at publicity, and Bucky excelled at managing most of what went on behind the scenes. And of course, everyone had only gotten better and better at playing their respective instruments as time went on. You loved to sing -- but more than that, you adored performing as a band, all of you creating music collectively, because it felt like you were part of something bigger than you, like you were sharing a soul for a few minutes in time. Whenever you sang, you felt powerful and unstoppable, and life seemed to make sense again. So, you eagerly lost yourself in the music, surrendering all your worries and just letting the songs flow through you.

After a couple of hours, you’d gone through all your material, both the older songs and the newer stuff you were still fine-tuning. You chugged from your water bottle and beamed at your band mates, invigorated. Carol winked, Sam gave you two thumbs up, and Bucky’s grin seemed to mirror your own.

Steve was smiling too, and as he started wrapping up cords and putting away his red, white, and blue guitar, he praised, “Great job, guys, we sounded amazing. I think we’re going to blow everyone away at the gig next week.” More smiles all around before he continued, “I’m almost done with those new songs I’ve been working on; I should have them done by Thursday’s practice, so we’ll try them out then.”

“Ooh, I can’t wait!” Carol cooed in that dry tone that always sounded a little teasing. When Steve glanced over to see whether she was being sincere, she continued, “I mean it! You’re a really great songwriter, Steve. I don’t know what we’d do without you.”

Steve blushed and shrugged. “Well, thanks. But I’m not the only one! You guys are super talented too, and if any of you ever want to write a song, just let me know. I’m more than happy to share the songwriting responsibilities!” He looked around the room, holding everyone’s gaze for a few seconds, looking at Bucky last. Bucky studiously avoided eye contact, busying himself with putting his own guitar away.

The mic was the easiest item of all to put away, so after stowing it in its box you’d helped Sam dismantle his drum set and store the pieces safely in the corner. Addressing the room at large, you clapped your hands together and asked in a chipper tone, “Anybody up for a drink down at the bar? I don’t know about you guys, but I’ve had a hell of a day.”

Sam was first to jump at the chance, and Carol was happy to join in. With an apologetic look, Steve explained that he had an early test tomorrow that he really needed to study for. Bucky hesitated just a second. “I’d love to, but I have an essay I need to finish.” Seeing your disappointment, he scrambled to add, “It’s almost done, maybe I can finish it up quick and meet you guys?” The three of you nodded, and he quickly decided that the smile you gave him was worth whatever grade he would end up getting on his half-baked paper.

He watched you, Carol, and Sam grab your jackets and head out the door, and when you turned back with a little wave, he gave you a grin that looked a lot more confident than he felt. The door shut, and he turned away, only to see Steve sitting at the kitchen table, regarding him knowingly.

Frowning, he growled, “What?”

“Nothing.” Steve’s voice was annoyingly patronizing.

With a sigh, Bucky turned towards his room, intending to ignore Steve’s smugness and hurry to finish his paper, but he’d gotten only a few steps before he heard him speak again.

“You should just tell her how you feel, Buck. I’m pretty sure she likes you, too. You guys would make a great couple.”

Whirling around, Bucky scowled at his roommate. “What are you talking about?”

Steve sat back in his chair and just gave him his patented look. Bucky jutted out his chin and crossed his arms, determined to be just as stubborn. Steve broke first, giving a short huff of laughter and shaking his head with a smile. “You’re my best friend, Buck, and so is she. It’s clear you have feelings for Y/N, and I wish you would just come clean, instead of pining over her and acting so weird and defensive. You’d be good for each other.”

Bucky looked away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Steve sighed. “Okay. We don’t have to talk about it anymore if you don’t want to. I’ve got my test to study for anyway, and I know you’ve got to finish your paper.”

  A little over a half hour later, Bucky sat at his computer, reading over his paper one last time. It definitely wasn’t his best work, but it was pretty solid. He’d probably get a C; anything higher than that would require significantly more time and effort, and he wasn’t willing to spend any more of either at this point. His mind was already thinking ahead to seeing you at the bar, maybe find out what was bothering you – or at the very least, get to cheer you up and spend some time together. He loved just being in your presence, making you laugh or smile. You were like the sun to him, you seemed to warm his very soul; and he couldn’t get enough.

He quickly emailed his essay to his professor, grabbed his stuff, and headed for the living room. Steve must have heard his footsteps, because he stuck his head out of the kitchen, probably about to nag him again. “Hey, Buck –“

Bucky cut him off, calling out loudly, “Sorry, Steve – gotta run!” as he rushed out the door into the cold.

Steve sighed, looking down at the books his roommate had left in the kitchen. The clutter was really distracting him (probably because he might have been eager for any distraction at all from his studying, which was turning out to be very boring indeed), and he had hoped Bucky would take his stuff back into his room. “I guess I’ll just do it myself, then,” he mumbled to himself, picking up the stack. A page fluttered out of the notebook on the bottom of the pile. “Oops,” Steve bent to retrieve it, and then pulled up short. He’d expected it to be chemistry notes, but this was laid out like a poem, and the unexpected formatting caught his attention.

His eyes skimmed over the stanzas. “Aw, Buck….” The wheels in his head started turning.

  As soon as he opened the door to the bar, Bucky could hear one of his favorite sounds in the world: your laughter. The place was about as busy as you’d expect for a Tuesday, and it wasn’t hard to spy the three of you in a booth, laughing uproariously about whatever story Sam had just finished telling. He stopped at the counter to order a beer before heading your way. Carol spied him and waved animatedly, as though he hadn’t already seen you guys; you snorted at her antics and took another sip of your drink before giving him a quick hug hello.

Sam’s story seemed to remind Carol of something similar that had happened to her once, and soon the four of you were in stitches, imagining her incredibly serious Lit professor going to lean back against the desk like he always did – only to find that the desk wasn’t exactly where he thought it was…and ending up on his ass on the ground instead.

“Everybody laughed, even Dr. Snyder – and then he swept right back into discussing Camus again, as though nothing had happened. You would not have been able to handle it, Y/N!”

You put your hands on your hips, trying to look menacing, or at least offended. “What’s that supposed to mean??”

Sam shoved your shoulder, shaking his head and laughing. “Come on, don’t act like you don’t know what we’re talking about. You can never keep it together when something strikes you as funny – especially when everyone’s supposed to be super serious. Remember that assembly in high school where you couldn’t stop laughing and you ended up getting detention for it?”

You grimaced, facepalming when Bucky joined in the teasing, asking, “Which time??” The three of them laughed even harder, and you had to give it up and join them, even though you were blushing brightly. This is why you’d wanted to come to the bar, after all, to relax and just have some fun; and besides, you really couldn’t deny that they were absolutely right.

Once the laughter had died down, Carol stood up, announcing that she was going to request some songs on the Jukebox. Sam shouted after her, reminding her to put some Marvin Gaye in the rotation, and she rolled her eyes and waved a hand at him to signify that she was well aware of Sam Wilson’s Jukebox Rules. Satisfied, Sam sat back, taking a swig of beer and surveying the room.

“Hey, Buck, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but that blonde in the corner hasn’t taken her eyes off you since you got here.”

Bucky, who’d been about to nudge you and try to initiate conversation, was startled by the sudden change in topic, and froze. “What?”

Sam leaned in conspiratorially, a smirk on his face. “It’s your lucky day, man; looks like she’s heading this way. And her friend is cute!”

You barely had time to react before the two girls reached the table, and Sam was already hailing them with that swagger that you usually made you laugh, but somehow tonight was just getting on your nerves.

The girls giggled, and you swore you saw the blonde bat her eyelashes at Bucky. Who does that??

You grabbed your drink and hopped out of the booth, trying to appear chill despite the sinking feeling in your stomach. “I think I need another one of these,” you mumbled, even though nobody had asked.

The blonde had placed her hand on Bucky’s bicep, but his eyes stayed on you as you marched up to the bar and shone that million-watt smile on the bartender. Of course the guy started flirting immediately, who could resist you? Clenching his jaw, Bucky turned his attention back to his admirer, who was asking, “You know, you guys look familiar, have we met before?”

Sam preened. “You might have seen our band play around town, we’re the Future Captains?”

The girls squealed. “That’s what it is! You guys rock!!”

The blonde squeezed Bucky’s arm. “You’re the bassist, right? You’re incredible,” she breathed.

He smiled widely despite himself. “Thanks for the compliment, doll.”

“We’re playing at the House of Blues next Wednesday night, you girls should come check us out.” Sam really excelled at promoting the band, which Bucky was secretly grateful for, since it meant he didn’t have to hold up much of a conversation, and could continue watching you surreptitiously. The bartender was being extra friendly, and Bucky was trying really hard not to crush his beer bottle in his fist.

The conversation around him carried on without him even noticing, and he almost didn’t even hear Sam addressing him directly.

“Bucky, you coming, man?”

He focused back in on Sam’s face, searching his memory to see if he could remember the last thing someone had said. “Uh…”

Sam rolled his eyes. “To the party? That these lovely ladies have invited us to?” He gave him a very pointed look, clearly trying to telegraph something with his eyes. Whatever he was trying to say, it was definitely lost on Bucky.

“Uh, no, thanks. I’m gonna hang with Y/N, that was the whole point of coming here, after all – what kind of friend would I be if I abandoned her?”

Sam paused. “You’re right, bro, maybe I should stay too?”

Glancing around at the ladies waiting impatiently, and Sam’s conflicted expression, he made a quick decision. “Nah, you go. It’s totally your scene, and I’m sure she’ll understand. I just don’t want to leave her completely alone.”

Sam shrugged, standing and putting an arm around each of his new fans. “You’re right. She’s a big girl, she’ll get it. And it’s not like she can’t handle herself.” With a quick wave in your direction, and one at Carol (who was still close to the jukebox, seemingly deep in conversation with an admirer of her own), he donned his jacket and left.

Meanwhile, you were flattered by the bartender’s attention, and while it wasn’t really doing much to raise your spirits, it did ensure that you got a nice, strong drink. Besides, he was cute enough, and you knew from experience how hard a job in the service industry could be. So you played along with his small talk; it’s not like you were in a rush to get back to your friends and watch some strange girl fawn all over Bucky. But the bar soon got a bit of a rush, and when you snuck a glance back at the table, you were surprised to discover Bucky sitting all by himself, with neither strange girls nor Sam anywhere in sight. Grabbing your drink and sliding the bartender a generous tip, you made your way to Bucky.

He greeted you with a big smile, sliding over to let you into the booth. “Where’d Sam go?” you asked, searching the room one last time as you sat down.

“He went to a party with his new friends,” Bucky offered.

“You didn’t want to go?”

Your surprise was written all over your face, and Bucky shrugged, chuckling. “And leave my best girl behind? No way!”

You took a sip of your drink to disguise how flustered you felt. You were his best girl? What did that even mean?? You settled for playfully elbowing him in the ribs. “Well, thanks, Buck. I definitely appreciate it.”

The grateful smile on your face made his heart explode, and he was instantly glad for every decision he’d made tonight. He impulsively put his arm around your shoulder and pulled you in for a side hug.

You returned his hug with a happy sigh, and when he didn’t withdraw his arm after the hug was over, you snuggled in close to him. It almost felt like old times, before you had developed this pesky crush and were just as comfortable being affectionate with Bucky as with the rest of the group.

Speaking of, you spied Carol finally returning to the table, and grinned. “And where have you been?” you teased.

She rolled her eyes as she climbed back into the booth. “What can I say? Who am I to snub a fan?” The three of you laughed at her pretended cockiness, and you settled in to listen to her next hilarious story. Your heart felt lighter and happier than it had all day, and once again you gave thanks for having such awesome friends in your life.

  Your spirits were high by the time the next rehearsal rolled around. The rest of the week had been pretty low-key at work, and you hadn’t had any big assignments or tests in any of your classes, which was a relief. You even talked Carol into heading to practice early, hoping to hang out with your bandmates a little longer.

You stopped by work to grab a round of coffees (or hot chocolates!) for everyone, and then headed to Steve’s. When you & Carol got there, they’d left the door unlocked for you, and you walked in to find them watching some ridiculous old 90s movie they found playing on cable. They greeted both of you with smiles and hugs (and excitement about the drinks!), and invited you to join them. After only the slightest hesitation, you opted to sit on the sofa next to Bucky, while Carol sank into one of the big plushy chairs facing the TV. Bucky grinned at you as you sat down, and you couldn’t help but notice he looked even better than usual today, in a blue shirt that really brought out the color of his eyes. He stretched his arm across the back of the couch, inviting you to snuggle up close to him as always, and you couldn’t resist doing so. He was so warm and safe, which was quite a welcome situation to be in after walking in the snow. So you curled up into his side and took a fortifying sip of your cocoa, letting yourself be warmed both inside and out.

The movie was over by the time Sam arrived, and the four of you had just been chatting about life, work, school, and upcoming gigs. Carol was draped sideways over the arms of the comfy chair, her hair hanging over one side and her legs dangling over the other; Steve sat on the floor with his back against the couch, fiddling with an old Rubik’s cube he’d found under the coffee table.

As Sam grabbed himself something to drink from the fridge, Steve checked the clock and realized it was time to get rehearsal started. Standing in front of you all still in the TV room, he adopted the tone you all recognized as Business Steve.

“Okay guys, I finished the songs I was working on, you ready to hear them?”

You all whooped in response, enthusiastic as ever to hear what Steve came up with. He was great with lyrics, but it was really his melodies and arrangements that always blew you away, personally. He had a real talent for that sort of thing, and you loved to encourage him.

Steve dragged over a music stand and his acoustic guitar, sitting down in the comfy chair that Carol had vacated to join you on the couch. Sam plopped himself into the other comfy chair, still nursing his drink. Steve played a few chords, and just as you thought he was about to sing, he stopped and coughed.

“Uh, Buck, you think you could help me with this?”

Bucky looked like he’d been caught passing notes in class. “Huh?”

“Wanna come up here and sing this for me?”

“Why?” Bucky said, blankly. You didn’t blame him for being confused; Steve usually debuted new songs by singing them himself, and this was the first time he’d ever asked someone else to do it instead.

“Because my asthma has been acting up, and I don’t think I can do it today.” Steve sounded like he was trying very hard to be patient, and you fought to keep yourself from snickering at how odd he was acting.

Bucky stood up, looking concerned. “Oh shit, man, I’m sorry. I hadn’t even noticed. Have you been wheezing or anything? Should we make a doctor’s appointment?”

Steve’s face was starting to turn red, and you grabbed onto Carol’s arm, biting your lip and avoiding eye contact with her, knowing it would make you crack up. She put her hand over yours and gave a sympathetic squeeze as Steve continued in a slightly strained voice. “I think I’ll be okay, Buck, but I just don’t want to exacerbate it by singing today. Can you just please come sing for me instead?”

Bucky obediently got up and crossed the room, taking the pages Steve handed him and looking them over. You were so busy struggling to control the laughter that was threatening to burst out of you, you didn’t even notice how Bucky suddenly got really still and tense. His eyes hardened, and darted over suspiciously to Steve, who was diligently focused on his guitar, apparently tuning it even though he’d been playing it just fine minutes before.

“What is this?” Bucky asked in a steely tone, very quietly so that only Steve could hear.

“It’s our new song,” Steve announced brightly to the room in general. “You ready to start, Buck?”

Bucky swallowed, glancing quickly at everyone, his eyes lingering just a second longer on you before going back to the music in his hands. There really was no way out of this, he had to just plow through and hope he made it to the other side. “Sure.” His voice was rough, and he cleared his throat and took a drink of water.

Steve smiled a wide, too-innocent smile, and started strumming again. After a few moments, Bucky began to sing.

I know every little thing about you And you know all about me too But not everything, I have a secret How have you not noticed yet?

You had always loved Bucky’s voice, gravelly and rich. But for whatever reason, he usually preferred to leave the vocal parts to Steve, so you didn’t get to hear him sing as often as you’d liked. Your earlier amusement already forgotten, you smiled, letting his warm voice wash over you while you listened to the lyrics and tried to imagine yourself singing this song in the future.

We've known each other since we were small Never dreamed that I would fall But every day I have to pretend Because you’re also my best friend

His voice, tremulous at first, had grown stronger as the song continued, but on this last line it cracked just a little. Then the rhythm changed, and it was clear the chorus was approaching.

You shine like the sun and I'm only a shadow The center of my world but you'll never know You're everything I've ever wanted I'm haunted

The song was beautiful, but, more than that, the lines were breaking your heart. They seemed to exactly describe how you felt about Bucky. But, how did Steve know? Was this some kind of joke? Had he figured out how you felt and was outing you to Bucky? Even as these panicked thoughts occurred to you, your rational mind had to point out Steve would never be that cruel. But as the verses started up again, you sat up a little straighter, trying to pay closer attention to what was really going on here.

When we're together, I have to hide Got to keep it all inside But deep within I'm falling apart Because I’m already losing my heart

The emotion in Bucky’s voice was raw, and you found yourself incredibly moved. And in that moment, your heart seemed to stop. Maybe this song wasn’t from your point of view at all. But did you dare to hope?

I don't know what to say So I hold my tongue another day What if you don't feel the same? I don't want anything to change

You shine like the sun and I'm only a shadow The center of my world but you'll never know You're everything I've ever wanted I'm haunted

The notes slowed down and time seemed to stretch out with them, as he sang the final coda.

I'd give everything just to have you be mine Worship you all of the time But I'm so afraid to cross that line

As the song ended and the last chords died out, a silence hung in the room, like the world was holding its breath. Your eyes were threatening to overflow with tears, but you didn’t move. Bucky stood still, not looking up; afraid to see your reaction. He felt like his heart had been laid bare, and he was terrified to see what came next.

You looked back and forth between him and Steve, desperately trying to figure out if what you hoped was happening was actually true. When you caught Steve’s eye, he was already looking directly at you. He raised a brow and ever so slightly tipped his head, nodding towards Bucky.

You felt frozen; you didn’t know what to do. Next to you, Carol cleared her throat, and suddenly you remembered there were other people in the room.

“Great song, I love it!” she crowed, her voice startlingly loud after such an extended quiet. “Um, Sam, I just remembered I have something I wanna show you. In the kitchen.” She practically leapt off the couch, and Sam followed her lead immediately.

Steve stood up too, mumbling something about having to wash some dishes, and scooted out of the room on their tail. You gave an amused exhalation at their lack of subtlety, but for the first time in your life the humor was tempered by a situation that needed your more immediate attention.

Bucky had yet to move from where he stood, though he was now staring after Steve with a somewhat incredulous look on his face. You took a deep breath and found your voice, though your heart was in your throat.

“Bucky?”

You were so quiet that you wondered if he’d even be able to hear, but he turned toward you, fingers fiddling with the music sheets. He kept his eyes downcast, still avoiding eye contact. “Y/N…”

You waited to see what he was going to say, but when he trailed off, you decided to speak again. “That song…that was amazing.”

The emotion in your voice was what tugged his eyes up to meet yours. “Yeah?” The ghost of a smile appeared around his lips, but his gaze was hopeful.

You smiled softly, taking a few steps closer to him. “Yeah.”

He flushed, glancing down at the page again. “Steve –“

You stopped abruptly, crossing your arms and raising an eyebrow. “Steve?” You questioned, in a disbelieving tone, though your eyes twinkled with amusement. “Is that who I should be talking to right now?”

Bucky chuckled, shaking his head. “He – he wrote the music, but…no, the words are mine.” He searched your face hesitantly, and he slowly crossed the last few steps between you.

You stared into his eyes for a few moments, feeling like you might drown in them. Finally, in a voice that was barely a whisper, “And?” When his eyebrows quirked in slight confusion, you added, “Did you mean it?”

At this, he smiled broadly, and his response was soft. “Every word.”

He carefully placed a hand on your hip, his gaze questioning. He was so close to you now, and you were on the precipice of everything you’d been dreaming of. Tossing the final vestiges of your caution to the wind, you wove your hand into his hair, pulling him the last few inches towards you, answering him with a kiss.

He responded eagerly, bringing his other hand up to gently cup your face. His lips were soft and tender, his kiss urgent and worshipful. He kissed you like you were the answer to everything he’d ever searched for, and for you it felt like the whole world clicked perfectly into place.

When you finally broke the kiss, it was with a happy sigh. Bucky affectionately nuzzled your nose with his own before resting his forehead gently against yours. “I’ve been wanting to do that forever.” The way he was looking at you was making your heart soar like a balloon.

You couldn’t help but smile giddily. “Me too.”

Sam’s voice from the kitchen broke through your shared reverie. “You lovebirds done yet? We doing any actual practicing today or what?”

You and Bucky couldn’t help but laugh.

[chuuulip]

Favorite Record

Chapter One

This is posted for Hannah’s @kentuckybarnes 3k Writing Challenge

I’m also taking the rockstar!au when Bucky is the hot and sexy bassist xD This is also gonna be my first time writing a series (it will be just short one thou) and if everyone is kind enough to give me a comment or feedback, I will really appreciate it. Shout out to the lovelies @bucky-at-bedtime for beta’ing this and @bybibucky for answering my questions hehe.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Warning: I guess nothing?

Summary: You never fond of Natasha taste in music but you always giving it a try, but maybe you had enough.

‘sentence that bold and italic is in russian but i just wrote it in english, i know i am lazy’

***

The ride to the heart of New York City never bored you. You like to see the colorful lights, despite the busy traffic. "Relax, Malyshka, the concert we’re watching tonight isn't like the last one."

"Oh, you better choose a decent one, Sestra. I still love my auditory apparatus."

Natasha snorted at your response. "That was one time. You need to go out from your cave often Stark."

Natasha can help but chuckle when seeing your lips curve, pouting at her. "It's not my fault that I found your taste of music horrendous."

"That's what happens if you lock yourself in your room for too long. Ok, we arrived malyshka, come on, move your ass."

"Tasha, language!"

The car stops in front of a building that color look between yellow and cream. There are two prominent windows in an almost octagon shape decorating the wall. In the center there’s a long half-round window that ornates with asymmetrical crisscross metals, giving it an oldish look.

"What time do you need me to pick you up Ms. Stark and Ms. Romanoff?"

"Don't worry we can use an Uber, Happy. Natasha is here, so father won't mind."

"OK ladies, have fun on your Saturday night! Don't drink too much."

"Aye aye, Happy! Now let's get inside."

Natasha pulls you to the entrance. A tall man, with a white button up and a khaki pants is waiting outside. His light brown eyes and brown hair shine under the building lights. He gives you the pass for backstage entry. Both you and Natasha thank him and follow him inside.

"The others are getting ready right now so I suggest you and your friend wait till the show ends?”

"Don't worry Matt, we are here basically just to enjoy the show." You can help but rolling your eyes at Natasha’s bubble gum intonation. "I am just here for some moral support."

"Malyshka, behave."

Matt chuckles at the light-hearted banter. "You’ve brought someone interesting tonight Nat."

"Thank you, I’m flattered,” you smirk, and Matt is taken aback when you bow a bit at him.

"You are definitely fascinating," Matt says, blatantly smirking at you. "Have fun and enjoy the show! Meet you two at the after party." He suddenly disappears through the crowd, you assume he was probably the PR or the manager.

With Matt disappearing to the opposite side, Natasha leads you to the second floor. The view from this level quite giving you the full image of the interior. The building itself was quite spacious with a tall stage situated on the center at the far end, across the long half round window. Some instruments like drums and keyboard were already on stage. Black velvet fabric with a gold accent was draped on each side of the stage with a wide white glossy screen behind it. One by one, a group of people, women and men, ventured into the building, crowding the empty space in front of the stage. A group of young girls, probably in their late teens were chatting loudly nearby, gushing about how all the members in the group are super handsome and talented.

Not long after the building was full, the black and gold backdrops starting to descend, covering the front part of the stage. The loud cheers from the people downstairs start to echo, which follows by the crowd upstairs. You tap your heels enthusiastically, excited to see these musicians that occupied Natasha’s playlist all the time.

Natasha’s constant excitement and how she is always too engrossed when talking about the band had raised your suspicion that she might hook up with one of the members.

All the lights suddenly turn off, the disparate hue of the stage light illuminated the building.

"We are The Howling!" a tall broad man with a blonde hair and blue eyes were suddenly jump to the stage, yelling their band name. A loud 'yeah' was an echo in the building. The cyclorama with red, green and blue that mixed with several spotlights giving an unbelievable eye-catching look of the stage in general. It also brings the focus to all the members on stage, who are getting ready in their respective position while strumming their instruments.

"Are you ready to Howl?!”

You can't help but snort at that one.

"YEAH!!!" The crowd shamelessly scream as the vocalist warm up the concert.

With "One...two...one...two...three go!" The guitarist starts a simple rhythm of their first song. The drums and the bass begin to kick in while the keyboardist puts his hands up in a 'jump in' motion, waiting his turn. The music was loud but surprisingly not unpleasant. Most of the time, you have problems with Natasha’s taste in music but this seems to be one you can certainly tolerate.

The floodlights shower through the audience but it was suddenly off and the lighting mode switched to profile on one of the members at the right of the stage. The unmistakable bassist wearing a black shirt that had to be a couple of sizes too small for him with washed denim jeans. Brown hair styled in a lower bun with several whips of hair loose around his face. The thing that drew your attention to him most, was the hue of his 5-string electric bass.

The solo moment wasn't that long if you recall correctly. The bassist shamelessly shows off his ability with all his fingers between the frets. Digits dance between the strings, up and down the neck. His plucking produces a great and clean sound. He might be a little bit giddy when transposing the riff base, but in a whole it was excellent. His steady fingers and endurance might be the result of good exercise, either with his hands or other parts.

You have been captivated by the short funky flow of his solo and you can't help but wonder the rest of the band's song. Rock music wasn't so bad, in fact, you love alternative, but you never let Natasha know that.

The band 'Howling' play a total of 10 songs, with one new song that they introduced as the last track. The song will be their newest single that will be released next week when their North American tour starts kicking. Following the end of the show, all the band members thank the crowd for attending their limited gig.

***

"For The Howling, cheers!" The blonde vocalist and the rest of the members were celebrating with beers. Bottles clinking and cheering didn't stop within them. After the end of the show, Matt texted to invite you and Natasha to go backstage. "We are having a private after party in the bar just a block from here." which now is exactly where you and Natasha are, nursing a bottle of beer, although Natasha prefers something stronger.

Another blonde man with spiky hairstyle was getting closer to where you and Nat sat. "Nat. Sorry, we’re kind of full of ourselves." He chuckles at that, while Natasha displays that adorable pout of hers. 'Oh, he is the one that Natasha has been seeing' you realize.

"Malyshka, this is Clint Barton, Clint this is my precious baby sister." You can help but express disbelief at Natasha endearment. By far, Natasha just 2 years older than you but sometimes she acts like you are a 5-year-old kid, she likes to baby you.

"Hi Clint, nice to meet you." You shake Clint's hand and introduced yourself to him.

"I am the guitarist, but I bet you’ve seen that already."  

You nodded at that, "speaking of which, you played a great melody on the show."

Clint beam at the comment. "Nah, I still need to improve my skills,” he said, "let me introduce you to the others."

Clint dragged you to the center of the bar and taps the other blonde on the group. "So this is Steve, our vocalist." a massive man with blue eyes and blonde hair, that you recognize from the stage, smiles warmly at you.

"Hi, I’m Steve Rogers, but everyone just calls me Steve." He gives you a firm shake and hugs you with his right arm.

"I hope you enjoyed our show."

"I did." You reply to him while introducing yourself. "Although, it seemed like you hadn't warmed up your voice when you started the show." some blushed crept up on Steve cheeks and neck. You cursed yourself a bit, way to be friendly to someone you just met.

"Yeah." Steve rubbed the back of his neck. "Tonight was our first jam after a year. I might sound a little rusty but thank you for your concern."

"You need to stick up with your routine, we don't want anything to happen to our captain." Clint chimed in.

"Captain?" left eyebrow arched at him.

"He is the leader of the band," Clint added, still sipping his beer.

"I know it sounds silly. They used that to mock me" Steve added and chuckle at that. "Don't mind Clint. Here, meet Sam Wilson."

A tall man with a dark skin approaches you. He has this goofy smile on him and you can't help smiling at him back.

"And Scott," another man with a black hair and a silly smile approaching you. He was the keyboardist on the band. "I guess Bucky was in the restroom, he was here before."

"It's ok, Steve. I can catch up with him later"

"If he acts like douche, just tell me, I will knock his head off," Sam says, bad-mouthing this Bucky.

"Don't worry Sam,” you chuckled, “I am a good fighter."

You actually have a really great conversation with Sam and Scott. Scott tells you that he has a young daughter name Cassie and he would love to learn how to braid her hair like yours.

"Oh, there he is. Buck!" Steve yells at Bucky, he looks like he just comes out of the back bar.

"Nat brought her friend with her." Steve introduced you to him. Bucky was more than 6 feet tall, as broad and big as Steve although he was the very opposite of him. If Steve was smile and sunshine, Bucky is quiet and has that melancholic broody look on him, like the moon on a cold night.

"Hello." You introduce yourself and shake his hand. He has big calloused hands, rough from the guitar strings, and long fingers that swallow your own.

Gone was the quiet melancholic look on him when he saw you gushing about how well he played on stage.

“I think from all the music tonight, the last track was without a doubt, the best.”

Bucky just smiles, wide, tongue licking his upper lips after he drinks the beer while looking at you.

“Tasha!” Bucky was yelling at Natasha who is in conversation with Clint and Sam. Natasha arched her eyebrow at Bucky, a question written on her face.

“You bring a nice catch tonight.” You’re confused as to why Bucky suddenly speaks Russian to Natasha.

“I told you I don’t need a new girl, but thanks anyway, looks like I am going to have a fun night with her.”

You are stunned, angry of the thing he accused you to be,

You slap Bucky hard on the face.

"How very well dare you!" Face reddened because everyone eyes were focused on both you and Bucky now.

"Let me get this straight. You" fingers jab at his chest.

"are" jab

"nothing more" more jab

"than a douche wagon." final jab.

"And I am not, in the slightest, interested in being bedded by you." if the eye can curse someone to stone, that’s probably what would happen to Bucky right now.

He looks at you with wide eyes, horrified. Never in the slightest, he ever thinks that you understand Russian.

“Thank you for the beer.” You take your pursed and stomp out from the Bar. You regret ever coming to a gig, yet again.

"Malyshka, wait!"

"Way to ruin the mood, Barnes." Natasha huffed and strolls off from the party to follow you after giving Bucky the stinky eyes.

***

..........

[the-canary]

Radio - B.B

Summary: Both of you thought it was a long shot, it just took a special day to make it finally click. (Assistant!Reader/Rockstar!Bucky Barnes) 

Prompt: No one told me there would be social interaction, or else I would not have come.

A/N: this is for @kentuckybarnes‘ writing challenge. just in time! 

Between the new music videos to make, the upcoming press tour, and the autistic concerts and the never-ending legion of devotees that followed him everywhere, Bucky was up to his head with what he could handle and what he couldn't. His anxiety was at an all-time high and all he wanted to do was such the door and never seen a goddamn guitar again, but he couldn’t.

Instead, he took out on the closest person to him in the room -- you, helpful and always smiling you.

“Could you just shut up and leave me be,” Bucky remarks while grabbing a drink from the hotel bar and sitting down on the couch. He didn’t need to scream or mess the place up, like most of the bands that you had worked with in the past, to let you know that he wanted you out of the room.

You frown for a second, blue eyes turning to look away as he takes one long chug of his whiskey and you know how the rest of the night will go.

“Do you really--”

The bottle smashes against the wall beside you and without another word, you let Bucky commiserate in his fear alone.

It isn't until the next morning after waking up closer to 10am with splitting headache and bottles around him, as Bucky makes a run to the bathroom to lose his dinner from the night before and whatever else that he notices one thing.

You aren't there -- and that's when the fear sets in.

ALL FOLLOWING MESSAGES ARE ON READ:

Pepper: I am sorry that your night ended on such a terrible note. He must be more stressed that usual.

Nat: He's a jerk! Come have a drink with us when you're done exploring!

Sam: Happy Birthday Weekend! Treat yourself on us! We both know you earned.

You glance at the messages and smile before getting your backpack and walking out the door -- to do whatever you had in mind for your birthday weekend.

“She asked for the weekend off,” Steve explains as Bucky paces back and forth in his room. He lets out a deep breath and runs a hand through his rat’s nest of a head, but Steve could already tell what was going on -- Bucky was already blaming himself.

Bucky wasn’t the easiest people to handle when it came to the press circuit, it just made him even more irritable and filled with anxiety. For all his charming smiles and relaxed presences on the stage, Bucky was a mess anytime after or before that. An assistant could barely handle his silence and cold-hot treatment before quitting a week in -- it had been a miracle that Pepper Potts had found you within Stark Management and that you understood Bucky and the rest of the band so well.

However, this was different -- this was their first release since Bucky come back from his tours. This wasn’t just garage shows and shitty club lounges to sell CDs out the back of their van while they traveled up and down the East Coast. This was both coasts and 12 shows within a month with a press tour to get their name out their -- it was everything they dreamed once back in college.

This was the big leagues and Steve can see that it’s getting to Bucky, but it’s something more than that as well. He just isn’t sure if Bucky has realized it just yet.

“But, what if--” Bucky remarks in question, turning to stare Steve with an annoyed look on his face. He let out a puff of air before moving back to the entrance of the hotel room, “Just to forget it.”

Steve lets out a sigh at the sound of the door closing, as someone comes out of the adjacent door. Sam shakes his head, wiping his hand with a washcloth and shaking his head.

“I’m guessing all anxiety made him forget it’s her birthday this weekend,” Sam states as Steve just shakes his head.

Hi!

I just wanted to say…

I’m sorry…

Bucky isn’t sure what he is doing as he flops over on the couch once more, trying to think of what to write in the text message, though he knows it is better to handle this more in person or even over the phone. But, personal confrontation isn’t something that Bucky has been good with for quite some time -- it was easier to mask and bury emotion deeper than necessary.

However, there was one way he knew how. Thus, he gets up and looks around to find some paper and a pen.

It’s two days before you really look at your home between a quick home visit and simply taking in everything that you hadn’t seen since you moved to New York. Yes, you had been there for quite a while --since Tony had picked you up after a bad interview at another agency-- but with all the traveling you did with different bands and with the Starks, there was just something that you had never gotten to see and now was your chance.

However, there is slightly more worrisome part of you that can’t help but feel that you should be somewhere else, were needed somewhere else.

“How was Coney Island?” Nat’s voice breaks your concentration, as you turn to look at her with a smile.

Nat had decided to break down your apartment door the night before your birthday -- the big one that you never thought back in college you would make it-- for brunch, drinks, and a bit of socializing, while you were still at home.

“More for couples and than anything else,” you remark with a laugh before taking a bit out of your french toast, which tastes more bitter than usual at what you had just said -- maybe another thing that you regretted as another year passed you by, but work -- you loved your work above all else.

“One day,” Nat remarks as if she knows something that you don’t, but you can’t really trust the person that is already in a stable relationship -- it was just empty reassurance on their part and that’s when you hear it:  

And do you have anyone special to thank in regard to this new CD?

Umm...yeah, there’s a gal but that’s all I’m willing to say.

Green eyes glance up to look at you and Natasha swears later on that she can tell the moment your heart broke at the sound of Bucky’s confess on the radio.

The way ya look in the light

Your smile shines like

It’s usually so much easier for Bucky to write lyrics, but at the simple thought of you, he freezes because there isn’t a way to describe how he feels out you -- it’s so much more than the guilt and gratitude, so much more than he thought when he started this process last night. And now, he isn’t sure what he is supposed to do with all the information making his heart beat a bit faster and his brain turns to mush over the thought of never seeing you.

“You know we have to catch a plane back to New York, right?” Sam can’t help but ask with a chuckle as Bucky gives him a confused look, “You know for a certain birthday party.”

“Oh, Oh yeah,” there is an excitement in Bucky’s voice that Sam hasn’t in quite some time as he watches the man get up and start running around the room, looking for his suitcase and things that need to be packed.

He’s a lost cause without her, Sam thinks to himself as he sees the pieces of crumpled papers all over the coffee table and half-finished meal beside it.

“You know,” Sam starts off, remembering what he had heard some time ago, “If you’re having trouble, maybe just take one from the Elvis’ playbook. She likes those movies well enough.”

Sam hears more of a crashing noise from the back followed with cursing before he starts heading out of the hotel room -- he isn’t sure what’s going to happen, but he’s sure that it will all work out in the end.

At least, that’s what Natasha keeps telling him.

“No one told me there would be social interaction, or else I would not have come,” you tease as green eyes roll in response to your cheeky answer. 

“Just shut up and enjoy your birthday party,” she smiles as you take the elevator to the highest floor of her apartment building, “I’m sure you’ll find it very enjoyable.” 

You’re a little confused over the last part of her statement, but you aren’t surprised when Nat drags you out of your apartment the Sunday of your actual birthday, she had been throwing you parties for as long as you had known her. 

What surprised you is that nearly everyone you knew what in that little rooftop patio with your favorite restaurant from two blocks down catering. However, there is one thing that catches your attention -- the stage near the back.

You don’t think about it for now because you know that Bucky and the rest of the band are supposed to be on the other side of the country, getting ready for their first concert in some small Hollywood theater. You were sure that Bucky didn’t need you there either, he had made sure of pointing that out the last time you had seen him.

You’re proven wrong two hours into the party, as Nat pushes you to the front of the gathering crowd after you had made some welcoming rounds (much to your displeasure) and thanks -- that’s when you see it.

Bucky dressed in a white short-sleeve and his handy black motorcycle jacket. His hair is pulled back in a low ponytail and his hand on a guitar you’ve never seen before. You look up for just a second and see that’s he’s looking straight at you -- nothing in-between as he gives you an easy smile.

And this is the Bucky that you know -- the one that can talk and charm a crowd like none else can, such a difference between you had been used to seeing recently. He nods and you can’t help but wonder why Steve and Sam aren’t backing him up.

“This is for the birthday gal,” he starts off with a strum of his guitar, “As a confession, a gift, and an apology...if she accepts them.”  

You’re confused for just a second and then Bucky strums that familiar note that you have heard a dozen times before, as he starts singing Can’t Help Falling in Love and you swear you lose the function to breathe throughout the whole damn thing.

It's a little later after encores and teasing that Bucky finally has you in his arms after three lovesick days apart, in one of the darker corners of the rooftop, as you keep humming the song he had played for you. His arms around your waist as he rocked you back and forth slightly to the rhythm you had set. Blue eyes on your face as he rubs his thumb over your cheek to get you to finally look at him.

"I know it's not a good excuse," Bucky starts off a bit nervously with a bite of his bottom lip, "But I'm sorry for how I acted with the stress and jitters of all this." 

"I know, Bucky," he lets out a little sigh at the sound of his name on your lips, "Apology accepted." 

He lets out a relieved chuckle as he moves you a bit more, before twirling you to the imaginary music in the air -- the sound of love in the air. 

"I was thinkin' that maybe once all this tour business is done with," Bucky keeps going with a shy smile, "I could take you out for a date." 

“I--" you pause for just a second to tease him, as blue eyes watch you like a hawk, "I would love to go on a date with you." 

"I promise you won't' regret it," Bucky chuckles as he leans in a bit more. 

And if a certain redhead gets a picture of the two of you kissing -- well then, you could live with that.

[littledarlinwrites]

Black Velvet Miniseries

Part 2: You Can’t Always Get What You Want

Black Velvet Miniseries Masterlist 

Rockstar!Bucky Barnes x Photographer!Reader

Word Count: 3041

Author’s Note: This is for @kentuckybarnes 3K Writing Challenge. Hannah, you are too awesome for words! Also, special thanks to my wonderful beta reader @lokissoul for reading and editing and reminding me that I am more than my errors, I am eternally grateful! Also I goofed and forgot to tag @star-spangled-bingo to cover the space in my bingo card for Rockstar AU when I posted cause college (I swear I’ll do better at this in the future, this one just escaped me).

Summary: Bucky is anxious about the bands interview with Shield Magazine. Will his interview be more than about his arm? And what happens when he meets a certain photographer for the magazine?

Warnings: A smidge of angst in the beginning, drinking, and puns.

Adrenaline was pumping through Bucky’s veins as he walked with the others backstage to put their instruments away. The show had gone off without a hitch. Bucky couldn’t even feel the phantom pain in his shoulder anymore, whether that was due to the adrenaline or not he had no clue. He lifted the strap to his red bass from his shoulder and put the guitar into its case. Bucky lifted the bottom of his faded black t-shirt to his face to wipe off his sweat covered face.

“Man, I broke four drumsticks, that was awesome!” Clint said excitedly.

“Barton, only you would be excited about breaking a part of your instrument.” Tony replied with a smirk as he walked over to the group. Clint’s only response was a shit eating grin.

“Alright, all of you have an interview and pictures to take with people from Shield Magazine. They’re are waiting for you at the bar. If you want to change, I suggest you do so now and quickly.” Pepper spoke to the group. Before she could even finish her sentence Natasha was bolting for the shower on the bus. Bucky didn’t blame her since he was the only person in the group that had longer hair like hers, and nothing felt more gross after a show than sweaty hair sticking to your neck. He made his way to the bus with everyone and waited for the shower while the others changed. As Bucky waited for the shower he had time to think of the interview. The adrenaline must have left his system because he felt himself getting more and more nervous. He had never been interviewed by a magazine before. What kind of questions were they going to ask? Were they going to ask about his arm? People always did when they saw it, or else they would stare at it. It was why he always wore layers or at least long sleeves. The longer he thought about it, the more his shoulder would hurt. He didn’t get phantom pains too often anymore. The therapy he had to complete helped with that. However, Bucky had found that whenever he got too stressed out, particularly about his shoulder or the accident, the phantom pain would reappear. As if he needed another reminder of what he lost.

“Earth to Bucky. You okay?” Natasha stood in front of him, her hand on his flesh shoulder.

“Uh, yeah. Just nervous about the interview I guess and kinda zoned out. I’m fine. Meet you out there?” Bucky asked as he was practically closing the bathroom door. He didn’t want to talk about it. He was done talking about how the accident still haunted him. He hadn’t left his apartment more than necessary since, and he hadn’t even talked to girl besides Pepper or Natasha. Bucky took off his shirt and did the one thing he typically avoided. He looked in the mirror. His shoulder had healed but it had left angry scars behind. Some from himself when he would have nightmares about the accident and Steve would have to wake him up with his flesh hand pinned down to his side. He had started sleeping with a t-shirt on to try to keep himself from clawing at his shoulder from there on out. Bucky screwed his eyes shut and took a couple deep breaths. He turned around before opening his eyes and finished getting undressed and showered.

Bucky threw on a pair of ripped jeans after his shower and his favorite red henley. The fabric of the shirt irritated his scars the least and it covered his arm. He nearly grabbed his leather jacket, but decided against it knowing he would get way too warm inside the crowded venue. Slowly, he made his way into the venue to get the interview over with and hoped to god that they wouldn’t ask about the accident or his arm. When Bucky walked up to the bar at the concert venue he saw Clint talking to a woman with long brown hair and a pen in her hands.

“Nice shirt.” Bucky over heard the woman say with a smirk on her face. Bucky glanced at the shirt Clint had changed into. The words “save a drum, bang a drummer” printed across his chest.

“Thanks, and for the record, if I were a drum I'd let you bang me all night long!” Clint replied to the woman with a wink. Bucky chuckled and then let out a sigh of relief. He knew nothing he would say in his interview could be as cringe worthy as that. Bucky sat down at the bar waiting for Clint’s interview to be over and ordered three shots of tequila to further calm his nerves. When he was about to down the third he noticed a woman so beautiful that he nearly choked swallowing the burning liquid. He couldn’t even see half of your face since it was hidden behind the camera in her hands, but he knew just from your eyes that you were the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Bucky’s nerves skyrocketed for the umpteenth time that night. Then he saw you pull your camera away from your face and let it hang from the strap around your neck. You looked directly at Bucky and sent him a shy smirk that took his breath away. Then you started walking towards him. In that moment, Bucky knew he was screwed.

“So, you’re the elusive bassist.” you said. Bucky decided in that moment that your voice was the most beautiful thing he had heard in his life. Realizing you had asked a question, he cocked his head slightly with a smile ghosting his lips.

“I’m sorry, elusive?” Bucky was confused, had he missed something?

“Your, uh, friend Steve. He went to introduce you to us and couldn’t find you. If I hadn’t seen you on stage myself, with pictures to prove it, I probably would have believed that you were just his Snuffleupagus.” You said with a giggle.

“Ya know, I’ve been called a lot of things, ‘Snuffleupagus’ definitely isn’t one of them.” Bucky replied with a teasing grin on his face before he broke out into a chuckle.

“Oh really? Would one of those things happen to be your name? Steve never got around to introducing you since you poofed on him. I mean, I’m fine with calling you Mr. Snuffleupagus if you’d like.” You were teasing him now, but he seemed game for it. There was something about this man that was bring you out of your shell. It terrified you, but something about him calmed you too.

“Just Snuffleupagus will do. No, I’m kidding! Uh, my friends call me Bucky.”

“Bucky,” you said with a shy smile on your face that Bucky found absolutely adorable. “Darn, Snuffleupagus was kinda growing on me.”

“You two need anything to drink?” The bartender asked since she had a moment to come down and check on the of you.

“Uhm, I’ll have what he’s having.” You reply to the bartender as you hop onto the stool next to Bucky’s.

“She’ll have a screaming orgasm.” Bucky said nearly causing you to choke on your saliva. The bemused look on your face caused Bucky to chuckle. You looked up at the man and saw the shit eating grin on his face that told you he was pulling your leg. “I’m kidding, can we get two shots of tequila each, please?” The bartender gave a nod before pouring the shots and walking away to check on the other patrons.

“Screaming orgasm, huh?” You tried to school the look on your face to one that looked unamused with his joke.

“Sorry, I had to get back at you for calling me imaginary! The opportunity presented itself and I couldn’t resist!” Bucky replied trying to repress the chuckle at the scowl on your face. He could tell you were only pretending to be mad at him for the fact you were actively trying not to smile. “Forgive me?” He said with his best puppy dog eyes.

“Hmmm, on one condition.” You said with an evil smirk forming on your face.

“Name it.” Bucky said before downing the first shot.

“Give me your best pick up line, because that one was way too easy and you know it.” Bucky rose his hand to his chin, stroking it as if he were in deep thought before letting out a chortle.

“Call me AC/DC, because I’m gonna leave you shook all night long.” You had to bite back a laugh at the classic rock song reference, but a giggle managed its way past your lips.

“Well, then you can call me Scorpion, because I’m gonna rock you like a hurricane.” You replied back with your own classic rock reference that caused Bucky’s eyes to light up before he burst into a laugh. You couldn’t help but laugh with him. You also couldn’t help but notice that you loved the sound of his laugh and that you would gladly continue sharing cheesy pick up lines if it meant that you could hear him laugh more. The smile that formed on his face caused your heart to flutter.

You took one of your shots to distract yourself. You managed to swallow the shot without coughing at the burning sensation that engulfed your throat, however you didn’t manage to hide your face scrunching up. Bucky saw the way your face scrunched up after downing the shot and knew he had never seen something so adorable.

“So, I may have been elusive earlier, but you’ve managed to elude from telling me your name. Unless, of course, you really want me to call you ‘Scorpion.’”

“Oh god, no thank you. My name is Y/N.”

“Y/N. It’s pretty like you.” Bucky said causing you to blush. The sight of your flushed cheeks caused his heart to flutter in his chest like a hummingbird. “So, if you don’t mind my asking, what drew you to photography?” Bucky asked you and you could tell he was genuinely curious.

“Well, when I was about seventeen I would go see local bands play around town and I ended up falling in love with concerts. I noticed that there’s this moment that if you stop paying attention to the band and look around you can see the magic of it all. Everyone is jammed into the tight space listening to their favorite band play and for however long the bands set lasts the world can’t touch anyone in the room. For that set nobody’s problems exist. It’s just magical. Anyway, I always loved music, but I never had any musical talent. After a couple of shows I ended up finding my groove and getting some good shots, enough that the band members liked them and used them. After that I knew that that was what I wanted to do.” You rambled out as you felt heat rush to your face. No one had ever asked why you chose photography, though they always managed to give you their unwarranted opinions. So you had never told anyone your reasoning, and suddenly you felt a bit self conscious telling Bucky. You hadn’t realized it, but during your explanation you had let your eyes drop down to the shot glasses in front of you. It wasn’t until you finished speaking that you looked up to see the enamored look on Bucky’s face. Really if anyone understood, it would probably be him. You couldn’t keep track of how many times you heard someone in the arts say how they were discouraged from their profession.

“You know, I thought I was the only who would actually take the time to look out into the crowd to see that. It really is magical. Easily my favorite part of the night to be honest.”

“So, uhm, why did you become a bassist?”

“Steve and I were always getting into some sort of trouble, he got picked on because before he hit puberty he was probably the scrawniest kid you’d ever seen. That never stopped him from standing up for the little, even though he was literally a little guy, and I always had his back. Well, my uncle actually had a guitar and a bass guitar in his garage and my ma had told him what was going on. So in an effort to help her and keep up out of trouble he taught us how to play. Steve was a natural at the guitar so I picked up the bass. Then whenever I would get stressed or anxious about something or whenever I just needed to escape life I would just pull out my bass guitar and start strumming. Eventually we ran into Clint, he always had a pair of drumsticks on him and we asked him to join us. Steve doesn’t play unless he’s playing acoustic now since we found Thor, and we heard Natasha singing one day and playing guitar in the band room while we were in high school and we asked if she would want to join a bunch of dudes in a rock band. We’ve all been inseparable ever since.”

“Wow. Really though, Steve? Scrawny?” Bucky couldn’t help but laugh at your bemusement. He couldn’t fault you for it either, during high school Steve bulked up. If Bucky hadn’t witnessed it he probably wouldn’t believe it either.

“Yeah, I got pictures I could show you back at my ma’s.”

“There’s evidence? Now this I’ll have to see!” Bucky couldn’t help but love your wit. He was laughing more tonight than he had in the last year and half. It wasn’t until you cocked your head slightly that Bucky realized he had just been staring at you for a bit too long.

“Ya know doll, I don't know how many times you've thrown me off-beat by being next to me.” For a second Bucky panicked. He had no idea why he had said that. It was the truth, but he hadn’t meant to say it out loud. He panicked not wanting to look like an idiot and said the first thing that had come to mind. It wasn’t until you giggled with a blush on your face that he let out a sigh of relief.

“Oh really? Well in that case, I bet we could get in some serious treble together if we aren’t careful.” You replied with a wink.

“Ya know, I haven’t laughed this much in a while.” Bucky admitted honestly. The admission broke your heart. You knew about the accident, that he had lost his arm. You had actually attended the show that night and had seen him play. It was one of your rare nights off when a band was playing. You couldn’t begin to imagine what that night, and every day after must have been like for him, but you were glad he was here in front of you now.

“Ya know, they say laughing adds eight minutes on to your life.”

“Hey Y/N, can I grab you for a sec?” The woman that was talking to Clint walks up to the two of you.

“Uh, sure Laura. Just a sec Bucky.” You told him, not wanting to leave. He nodded his head in acknowledgement.

“So the bar closes in like five minutes. Is there any chance that while the two of you were flirting you got anything for a quote I could use?”

“Laura! Okay, one, you were flirting with Clint and don’t you dare deny it. Two, maybe, but I’d rather ask him first.”

“You’re the best! So, you gonna give him your number?” You thought on it for a minute before you decided.

“Do you have the flyer for their next show on you still?”

“Yeah.” She said as she began digging through her bag for the flyer and a pen. “Here ya go.” You took the flyer and pen and twirled your finger for her to turn around so you could use her back to write on. You quickly wrote on the flyer before folding it up and handing Laura back her pen.

“Thanks Laur’, you’re the best!” You told her as you walked back to the bar.

“Hey, uhm, Bucky?”

“What’s up, doll?”

“Laura meant to interview you, but she ran out of time, do you mind if I use the seeing out into the crowd thing as a quote from you for her?” Bucky noticed the folded up paper in your hands and for a moment he was disappointed, he was hoping you were gonna ask if he wanted your number.

“Yeah, that’s fine.” Bucky told you, a smile of relief flooding your features. “Doll?”

“Yeah?”

“I, uh, really appreciated tonight,” Bucky said as he rubbed the back of his neck with his flesh hand. “Do you think, I could see you again sometime?” He managed to mumble out the words quickly before he lost what little nerve he had. His heart rate picked up when he saw the playful smirk on your face. You took another two steps closer so you were standing between his legs. You could smell the faint scent of his shampoo. You put a hand on his arm while the other hand slipped the folded up flyer into his pocket. You leaned up so your lips were close to his ear.

“You can’t always get what you want.” You whispered as you stepped back with the mirk still on your face and a look of confusion on his. You winked at him before walking back to join Laura and head to the office to work on the article.

Bucky sat there completely confused. He realized you slipped something into his right pocket and pulled it out. Before he opened it he realized you had touched his prosthetic arm and neither of you were phased. For the first time in a long time, Bucky felt normal. He carefully opened the piece of paper with shaky hands. It was the flyer for their next show for the day after tomorrow. The date, time and venue were circled, and written below in slightly messy handwriting was ‘but if you try sometimes, you just might find you get what you need.’

Tags:

@letstalkaboutsebbaby @itsbuckysworld @caitfairwrites @xxloki81xx @marvelfluff @igotkatiepowers @thorins-queen-of-erebor @buckyinantarctica @chuuulip @ladysergeantbarnes @axelwolf8109 @ria132love @thecraziestcrayon

[awlizno]

“You really gonna call it quits because I ain’t got time to fuck around with a cheese stick? Huh?”

LOLOLOL this was fluffy and adorable!

Culture Shock

Summary: In which Bucky learns he might not be fully caught up with the current century.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader [established relationship]

Warnings: Fluff

Notes: Taking a break from Angstville to bring you a nice fun, fluffy piece! This is for @kentuckybarnes‘s 3k writing challenge and my word was kerfuffle! It’ll be bolded below! Enjoy! x

ker·fuf·fle

noun

a commotion or fuss, especially one caused by conflicting views.

Living in Avengers Tower had taken some getting used to. An entire building dedicated to housing Earth’s Mightiest Heroes that’s provided an intimate look inside their daily lives.. From time to time you would wonder how the press would take it if they were to learn that Sam leaves uncovered food in the fridge to spoil. Or that Bucky really hates cleaning the lint trap in the dryer and leaves it for the next person to deal with. Or that Natasha has a pair of fluffy pink bunny pajama pants that she wears after rough missions.

On second thought, that last one you’ll take to your grave. Avenger you may be, but stupid you most definitely are not.

Keep reading

[littledarlinwrites]

Black Velvet Miniseries Masterlist

Author's Note: This was written for the wonderful @kentuckybarnes 3k Writing Challenge! Thank you so much Hannah for hosting this challenge and for my chance to participate! Also, congrats on the followers, you deserve them and the world! My prompt was: “I don’t want to sound too sexy, but under my clothes, I am naked.”

Special thanks to @lokissoul for being an amazing beta reader for me. I could never thank you enough dear!

This also covers my Rockstar AU square for @star-spangled-bingo!

This will be a three part miniseries (though I may be convinced to write more parts eventually.

Pairing: Rockstar!Bucky Barnes x Photographer!Reader

Warnings: A bit of angst, fluff, puns, and Bucky being a "sexy, hot bassist." See individual parts for accurate and detailed warnings.

Summary: The Avengers, a rock band in New York, had just made it when tragedy sets them back to the beginning. It isn't until Bucky meets a certain photographer that he finds himself again.

Recently Featured in Black Velvet:

Part 1 - Kickstart My Heart

Part 2 - You Can’t Always Get What You Want

Part 3 - Rolling Stone