#listen bucky isn’t the best at flirting but that’s part of his charm

[jasontoddsmommyissues]

Sambucky as Text Posts 5/?

[henryxburnham]

↪ introduction to henry burnham.

BASICS.

full name: henry james ambrose burnham. nickname(s): sunshine, bucky. age: thirty-four. date of birth: 17 january 1990. zodiac sign: capricorn. place of birth: casper, wyoming, united states. ethnicity: white. nationality: american. gender: genderfluid. they/them & he/him pronouns. he'll use them interchangeably and generally wear a pin on his coat/shirt collar/lapel in public if he's feeling one more than another. sexual orientation: pansexual. romantic orientation: panromantic. religion: roman catholic — as an adult henry doesn’t practice his religion all that firmly. he hasn’t been to mass in years but when he was a child his mother took both him and his little sister frequently. education: bachelors in english, creative writing from the university of southern california. occupation: former lance corporal in the united states marine corps. currently a bestselling novelist. language(s) spoken: english ( primarily ). he knows bits and pieces of pashto but whenever he tries to speak either language it’s clumsy at best. accent: he wouldn't consider himself to have an accent and it's relatively neutral other than the fact that he has a tendency to drawl when he speaks.

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE.

face claim: callum turner. hair color: dark brown. eye color: blue. height: 6′2″. weight: 183 lbs. build: slim, lanky. tattoos: an iridescent raven on his left forearm ( here ), a blue gradient snake tattoo on the inside of his right forearm ( here ), ellie's tattoo from the last of us part 2 on his left arm ( here ), his family’s initials on the inside of his right index, pointer and ring fingers respectively. piercings: a helix piercing in his left ear. distinguishing characteristics: the fact that he always seems to be smiling, the cane he uses to help him walk on days when his leg is especially sore, how easygoing he is.

PERSONALITY.

label: the eternal optimist. positive traits: adaptable, adventurous, articulate, charismatic, charming, clever, compassionate, confident, creative, eloquent, intelligent, passionate, resourceful, witty. negative traits: competitive, sarcastic. argumentative, decadent, haughty, hedonistic, impulsive, obsessive, possessive, rowdy, vindictive. goals/desires: to make people happy, to live in a way that makes him feel like he’s more than his trauma, to fall in love, to be happy. fears: athazagoraphobia ( fear of being forgotten ). hobbies: cloud gazing, people watching, doodling when he can remember to bring a sketchbook with him, writing, reading, gardening, going for walks when his leg isn’t bothering him, playing with his cats, meeting new people, hanging out with his sister, listening to music, playing guitar, anything that lets him be creative, baking, working with his hands, flirting with people when he’s in the right mood. quirks: he chews at the skin around his nails when he’s especially stressed out, he tends to hum some song or another he has stuck in his head while he’s working if no one else is around, he tends to go pretty sharply from being a huge flirt to blushing every time someone smiles at him just right, he can talk about almost anything he's into with almost no provocation, he has a habit of making little daisy chains and flower crowns if he’s spending a lot of time alone or he’s manic– just to put his energy into a productive habit. likes: pretty much every baked good he’s ever tried, the feeling of the sun on his skin, fantasy and historical fiction novels, nature documentaries, finding the best places to nap wherever he happens to be spending a lot of time, making people smile, hot chocolate on especially cold days, rpg video games, video games in general, finishing to-do lists, hanging out with his friends, surfing. dislikes: not being taken seriously, bigoted people in general, having to be patient for just about any reason, being referred to as ‘crazy’, intense cold, nightmares, fireworks, the smell of lit matches, the fact that he smokes regularly, being alone for long periods of time.

FAMILY.

father: thomas burnham. mother: mackenzie burnham née carson. sibling(s): adelaide burnham ( younger ). pet(s): he has a one year old maine coon named luna, a nine-month-old russian blue named lucas and a three-year-old burmese cat named lily. financial status: upper middle class.

BIOGRAPHY.

(TW: mentions of bipolar disorder, injury and amputation, mental health rehab)

Henry Burnham was born in Casper, Wyoming to Thomas and Mackenzie Burnham– his father was a US Marine and had been stationed in Germany shortly before Henry was born Stateside. Henry was their oldest child and he would eventually be joined by his younger sister two years later after the family had returned to Wyoming from Camp Pendleton on orders for his father. He was an incredibly easy going person even in childhood– his mother often told him stories about his temperament as a baby and the fact that he rarely cried or fussed or gave them any trouble at all with temper tantrums and things of that nature. He was quick to make friends and often spent weekends with friends when his parents allowed it.

By the time he was eleven he was well aware that he wanted to follow in his father’s footsteps and join the Marines– his father was reluctant if only for the fact that he’d seen war and knew first hand how it could change a person and he worried constantly about something happening to his baby boy. Still, when Henry turned eighteen he enlisted immediately and was sent overseas for his first tour of duty within a year. Military service was something he took to easily though he had a difficult time adjusting to the violence of it all and the deep suffering the people around him ( both those who served with him and the local populations he interacted with ) were experiencing. He’d always been an empathetic person and it tore him apart the slightest bit not to be able to help anyone or feel like he was overseas for anything close to the right reasons. Still, he served faithfully and returned for a second tour of duty without batting an eye.

It was during a patrol on his second tour that his convoy ran into a series of IED’s that had been placed between sweeps of the road between outposts often traveled. Though he was med-evaced and brought to surgery as quickly as possible the accident eventually resulted in Henry's right leg being amputated just above the knee before he was sent to a military hospital in Germany to recover properly. His family was there to greet him when he finally woke and though their presence was comforting to an extent Henry still fell into a deep depression that seemed to last months before it evaporated in an instant only to be replaced by a mania that his parents took notice of immediately. Several conversations with a psychiatrist later and Henry was diagnosed with Bipolar disorder– resulting in medical retirement from the USMC after his case was reviewed.

He was devastated by the turn his life had taken and he lived with his parents for nearly a year once he’d recovered enough to return to the United States. He relapsed several times in the first six months of being treated and wound up in a mental health rehab facility before he began to take his mental health seriously and threw himself into therapy and sticking to a medication regiment and doing everything in his power to take care of himself. During the course of his recovery he decided to pursue a passion he'd had since childhood and earned a degree in creative writing from USC with the intention of becoming a novelist - to share a part of himself that was so important and know that he was capable of putting something positive into the world. It was his his father who suggested he consider relocating to Providence Peak– where Thomas had grown up– to be in a calmer environment that might allow him more stability in terms of his mental health.

Henry moved to Providence Peak two months later– just shy of his twenty-fourth birthday and bought a fixer upper in Bighorn Hills that he spent every moment he wasn't writing fixing up with the help of his father, uncles and cousins. It took him a few months to get settled but once he did he began to write prolifically and ten years later has three bestsellers to his name. He’s doing his best to maintain normalcy and feel like the same person he was before he’d joined the Marines– it’s difficult even on his good days but he’s never been one to shy away from things and he remains open and honest with his struggles while he’s in the pursuit of genuine happiness in his life as a whole.

[puppypeter]

✨ All fics are complete! ✨

He Loves Me Cause I’m Cute, He Thinks I’m Pretty Funny | 2588 words 📱

He watches it back one more time after it posts, checking for typos in his subtitles and captions, and has to laugh again.

Steve fucking Rogers? His brain thought he could pull Captain America, literal superhero and America’s favorite sweetheart?

“Hello I’m a 35 year old amputee living in New York and I think that I could get Steve Rogers.”

OR

the one where bucky posts a tiktok and steve is utterly smitten.

Summer Slipped Us Underneath Her Tongue | 10712 words 🧳

Bucky is a tour guide who enjoys sharing the rich history and culture of each city they pass through with a bunch of early-20's college students who just want to know the cheapest place to get drunk.

Except for Steve, who asks Bucky for a personal tour around his hometown.

The rest is, as they say, history.

You Make My Heart Skip A Beet | 3853 words 🧑🏼‍🍳

“I made soda bread.” Steve lets out the 6’2” supersoldier equivalent of a squeak. “Oh, I love soda bread,” he says eagerly, rolling forward on the balls of his feet like he does when he gets excited. “My mom used to make it all the time when I was growing up.” The tips of Barnes’s ears turn red, and he mutters something that sounds suspiciously like, “I know.”

Ollie Meets Bagel | 5517 words 🥯

He was a skater boy, Steve said let's get bagels, boy.

Steve wants to start doing this twenty-first century thing properly. He gets help in the form of skateboarding, skateboarders, bagels, and Sam Wilson.

Taxi | 5113 words 🚕

Bucky Barnes was, he hoped, a good taxi driver.

He's so good, he actually tries to return lost property that ends up left in his car and... well. It has some unexpected consequences involving a National Icon.

Enough said.

Leg Day | 12157 words 🏋️‍♂️

“So talk to him,” Sam says.

“I can’t,” Bucky groans. “I can’t, Sam, I. He just.” He fluffs his hair up and stares at Sam, distraught. “I want him to bench press me.”

“Okay, so it’s serious,” Sam interprets. “Got it."

(Or: The one where Sam is Bucky's long-suffering roommate, Bucky is a hot mess of a millennial, and Hot Steve spends far too much time on the Lat Pull-Down machine.)

Love In Aisle Four | 2127 words 🛍️

When Bucky needs to swing by the supermarket after a long, hard day of work, the last thing he expects is to meet a cute grocery clerk named Steve…

Coming Up Easy | 45515 words ✍🏻

“Listen, I was just thinking,” Steve says, his face open, eyebrows raised in a tentatively hopeful expression. “Why don’t you come stay at my place for a while? I’ve got an office that I barely use, and a change of scenery might do you good, right? Help you beat that writer’s block?” With a crooked smile, he adds, “I promise I’m not a serial killer.”

While Bucky would normally crack a joke about how that’s exactly what a serial killer would say, right now, all he can do is blink at Steve in surprise, heart tripping over itself in his chest. Steve wants him to come and stay at his place. In Massachusetts. Just the two of them.

"Oh," Bucky croaks. "I- Wow."

“I mean, no pressure,” Steve says hastily. “Totally fine if you don’t wanna. I just thought I’d offer, in case it might help, y’know?”

“Yeah.” Bucky ignores the little voice in his head that sounds an awful lot Nat and Becca, telling him he’s setting himself up for heartbreak. “I mean, if you’re sure, that would be amazing.”

Anywhere The Wind Blows | 8845 words 👨‍🚒🎖️

After a catastrophic fire that shakes him to his core, Steve Rogers quits his job as a Brooklyn firefighter and relocates to a cabin in the remote Canadian wilderness, wanting quiet and solitude and to maybe never have to speak to another human being ever again. He gets his wish, more or less, until a recently injured Bucky Barnes is discharged from the Army and rents the cabin next door.

The Safer Course | 7918 words | Part 1 of Won’t You Be My Neighbor 🏡

When Steve moves to the suburbs in 2033, he intends to retire from superhero life.

He does not intend to fall in love with his pain-in-the-ass neighbor.

Every Year I Have You | 7064 words | Part 2 of Won’t You Be My Neighbor 🏡

Steve set the bar pretty high, as birthday presents go.

Bucky is determined to outdo him when July 4th comes around.

Beneath The Mistletoe | 21203 words 🎄

Bucky had a bet with his sister that if he didn’t have a boyfriend to bring home for Christmas by the time he was 25, he had to give her $200 and go blonde for a year. But now he's 25, it’s nearing December, and not only is Bucky as single as ever, but he’s also running low on cash. He doesn’t exactly want to bleach his hair, either.

At least Steve is willing to upgrade their relationship from best friends to fake boyfriends.

The Settler | 52203 words 🍞

“What do you want to do?”

Steve pauses and looks at them.

What he wants is to stay with them. He doesn't have any family left, they all died before he even joined the war and became... this. Captain America turned whatever he is now. But Natasha and Sam have become his family over the years. Not just because they're on the run together, fugitives and vigilantes, but way before that too.

He doesn't want to leave that.

But he knows that, realistically, he can't stay with them and they can't stay with him.

So he looks at them with a smile and lies. “I don't know.”

OR; In which Steve retires and finally finds a place to call home.

You Can’t Put Your Arms Around A Memory | 1148 words 🐈

"Alright, Bucky," Steve slows his steps, watches his neighbour stop at the bottom of the next flight of stairs. There's a canvas bag in his hand that Steve didn't notice earlier, cream coloured with the figure of a sleeping, black cat painted on it. "Have a good day."

He thinks Bucky's cheeks pink up a bit right then and there, but Steve can't tell. He's too distracted by his pounding, foolish heart, by the way Bucky smiles bashfully, and ducks his head. The way he seems like he wants to stay.

To Believe In Tomorrow | 3959 words 👨🏻‍🌾

Bucky's mornings at the community garden get a little more interesting when the new guy shows up.

Maybe This Christmas | 24873 words | Part 1 of Maybe ❄️

Bucky’s not going home for Christmas. But it’s fine. He’s spending Christmas alone in his apartment, but it’s cool. He’s not feeling up to seeing his family after his accident anyway, plus he has to work. He’s totally fine with it. But then he runs into Steve, literally, and suddenly his Christmas isn’t looking so empty after all.

-----

Hurrying was a bad idea. Bucky’s foot hits a patch of ice and slides out from under him in what would have been a comical cartoon banana-peel-like trip, if it wasn’t happening to him, and he braces himself to hit the ground. This is going to hurt.

“Fuck,” Bucky screeches, but as he lands on his back, it’s not the cold hard concrete he expected, but a solid mass beneath him. Oh god, Bucky thinks as he realises he smacked into the person behind him and took them down with him.

Maybe This Year (Will Be Better Than Last) | 133868 words | Part 2 of Maybe ❄️

Last year, Bucky Barnes met Steve Rogers. Well actually, he slipped and fell on him. What followed was the best Christmas either of them had ever had. But what happens when Christmas is over and life returns to normal? What happens after the Christmas miracle?

-----

Bucky should have known. He did know. When things seem too good to be true, they usually are. And Steve is the best thing that has happened to him in a long time, possibly ever, so of course it couldn’t last.

Maybe This Time (I Hope I Get The Chance To Say Goodbye) | 34561 words | Part 3 of Maybe ❄️

Steve and Bucky Barnes are happily married. They've made it through some hard times and come out stronger and happier, together. Then Steve gets called on to come out of retirement for the most important mission of his life and everything changes. Everything.

-----

“Have yourself a merry little Christmas…” Steve starts singing along softly, and Bucky chuckles, before leaning his head onto Steve’s shoulder, always happy when he’s in Steve’s arms.

“From now on, our troubles will be miles away…” Bucky joins in.

Dancing round their living room, just as in love as ever, their troubles seem light-years away, if not non-existent.

Sadly, they’re closer than they think.

The Unexpected Gift | 9504 words | Part 1 of When Winter Comes 🐕

Steve Rogers is fine.

After ending a long-term relationship with Sam Wilson, Steve moves back to New York. He's tired and lonely but depressed? No. At least, that's what he thinks.

From the window of his apartment, he watches a dark-haired man and his service dog sitting in the park, wondering what his story is.

The Winter Storm | 2218 words | Part 2 of When Winter Comes 🐕

"If I could give you one thing in life, I would give you the ability you see yourself through my eyes, only then would you realize how special you are to me."

After Bucky and Steve confessed their feelings for each other, life has its own twisted way to challenge the most profound love.

One January Night | 4213 words | Part 3 of When Winter Comes 🐕

Before going back to work, Steve Rogers still has things to learn: 1- Depression is a bitch and the battle against it isn't an easy one. 2- Dating a person with disabilities comes with its share of challenges.

Bucky Barnes Has His Shit Together (And Other Lies He Tells Himself) | 14159 words 🔒

You’d think a guy who owns one of the most successful bakeries in Brooklyn, has a million-dollar smile and that antiquated good ol’ boy charm, blond hair and blue eyes and biceps for days, would know what’s what.

But don’t let that fool you: Steve Rogers is a mess.

Obvious | 917 words ☕

"Oh, I have a prompt! So, it makes me laugh how painfully obvious Steve and Bucky's feelings are to everyone when they're in that pining, slowburn, does-he-doesn't-he phase. But imagine Steve and Bucky working in a coffee shop together and constantly bickering, nudging and playfully flirting with each other. And all the employees and patrons are so invested in their relationship and just want them to kiss already but no one realizes that Steve and Bucky have been married since they got out of HS."

[youwerenevermeanttofeelalone]

Strangers | Joaquín Torres

✦ pairing — Joaquín Torres x female!Plus Size Reader

✦ word count — 5.8k (I’m sorry, I don’t have much self-control left)

✦ loosely based on the song Strangers by Mallory Merk

✦ request — I’d like to ask for something where Bucky and the reader are roommates but she’s younger (Joaquin’s age) and one day Sam and Joaquin are there for whatever reason and that’s how Joaquin and Reader meet and they get along (and flirt obv) and Bucky is like a protective older brother and Sam vouches for him but Bucky doesn’t loosen up until Joaquin saves reader from danger or does something nice for her

✦ warnings — angst, awkwardness, Bucky acting like a jealous brother, mentions of beverages and food, light depictions of anxious worry, fluff.

════════════════════════

Bucky and you were in the middle of discussing whether you should adopt a cat or not when a rhythmic knock on the door interrupted the urgent conversation.

“Are you expecting someone?” he asked, eager to go back to the pressing matter at hand.

“You know I am not. I didn’t order anything either...”

Bucky sighed. “I’ll check.”

“No!” You stood up abruptly from the couch. “You’ll scare whoever is behind the door off like you scared our poor neighbor.”

“Can you let that one go?”

“Nope,” you replied as you crossed the small living room.

You would never. The lady still tried to hide from him when she saw him down the hallway which was hilarious because it wasn’t due to the fact that he had famously been The Winter Soldier but because he grumpily opened the door when she needed a favor and closed it on her face.

As you opened the door, you found two attractive men standing in the doorway.

“Is Barnes here?”

“Oh, God. What did he do now?”

“I didn’t do anything!” he exclaimed in your ear, making you jump.

“Jesus, Bucky.”

“Sorry.” He then acknowledged one of the men in front of you, the one who had asked for him, “What’s wrong, Sam?”

“Can we come in?”

Both Bucky and you moved out of the way so the pair of handsome men could come inside.

“So you’re the roommate?” Sam asked.

“I am.”

“And you don’t think he’s the most annoying person you’ve ever met?”

“No. Should I?”

“Hey!”

“I’m joking, I’m joking.”

“I’m Sam Wilson,” your interrogator introduced himself properly. “And this is Joaquín Torres.”

“Nice to meet you.” You smiled at Sam, then at Joaquín who smiled back.

Bucky cleared his throat.

Sam looked tense as he ominously said, “We need your help.”

“Give us some privacy, sweetheart,” Bucky told you.

You retreated to your bedroom, wondering what the secrecy could be about. You knew who Bucky was, what we had done, and everything in between.

And sure, some people thought you were crazy for being his roommate, but you weren’t scared of him. You trusted him and cared about him. In the few months you had gotten to know him he had become an important person in your life, one of your best friends.

His visitors didn’t stay for too long. You hadn’t even gotten comfortable on your bed after having put on a tv show to have something on the background when you heard the front door close.

A couple of minutes later, Bucky knocked on your door and opened it just enough to ask if he could come in.

He sat on your bed, fixing his eyes on your desk.

”So...” you broke the silence, “should I be worried?”

“No.”

“Bucky. Look at me.”

He turned to the side, fully facing you. “What?”

“You don’t have to hide things from me or coddle me.”

“I know. But it’s nothing that can’t be fixed,” he assured you.

“Promise?”

“Promise.” He gave you a small smile. “Now, about that cat...”

════════════════════════

After a long week of work, you found yourself relieved to have the apartment just for you. Bucky was a lovely roommate, you just wanted an alone moment.

Saturdays were usually the day you had the apartment for yourself, Bucky had a strict routine until something extraordinary happened and you were comfortable with adapting to it.

To your luck, somebody knocked on the door. You hoped it was somebody looking for the neighbor or something because you weren’t in the mood for people.

Your mood, however, did a 180 as soon as you opened the door.

Joaquín gave you a small smile. “Good evening, (Name).”

Why did he have to come by when you were in sweats and an old t-shirt?! You smiled at him. “Hi.”

“Is Bucky home?”

“No. But he should be back in a couple of hours.”

“Oh. Well, I’ll wait for him outside.”

“Do you want a cup of coffee?” you asked. A part of you wanted to be polite, the other wanted to chat for a little bit. “I just started a batch.”

“Uh—“ Joaquín cleared his throat. “I would really like that.”

You motioned for him to come in. His eyes fixed on you as he did, but for some reason, you didn’t feel uncomfortable. There seemed to be no malice in his eyes.

“Free day?” he made small talk.

“Yeah. I actually don’t work on weekends.”

He shifted in order to face you and asked more about your job. You hoped it wasn’t part of his small talk anymore.

As the conversation progressed, you were sure it had been. His gaze remained on you whether he was speaking or listening, interest never wavering as he found more things to ask about you.

His eyes were such a peculiarity and you couldn’t understand why. Brown eyes were common, you had seen them thousands of times.

“I think the coffee’s ready,” he murmured.

“Right!” You abashedly stood up, smoothing your t-shirt as though it really mattered anymore.

“Do you need help?”

You shook your head. “I’ve got it.”

Glancing at him as you poured the beverages, you saw him staring at you too. Either you weren’t being subtle and were making him uncomfortable or he wasn’t being subtle either. Both options were terrifying.

You walked slowly towards the living room and put both cups down. “Sugar?”

“Please.”

As you went back to the kitchen, you checked the state of your hair on the microwave. Deciding there was nothing you could do to it, you left it as it was and took the container of sugar in your grasp along with a teaspoon.

You placed the sugar container on the table. “Cream?”

“No, thank you.”

Joaquín sweetened his coffee as you sat down next to him once again.

“You don’t like it with cream either?”

“No. I only remember to buy it for Bucky.”

Giving you his entire attention back, Joaquín lifted both eyebrows. “He takes his coffee with cream?”

“Oh, yeah.” You nodded enthusiastically. “I was as shocked as you are.”

“My grandma loved coffee with milk. She added so much that I don’t think it was coffee anymore.”

“Did you ever try it?”

“I didn’t. Well, maybe as a kid?” He tilted his head as he tried to remember. “I would prepare her coffee all the time...”

“That’s so sweet.”

He took a sip of coffee. So did you. For a moment both of you remained silent, and although it wasn’t uncomfortable you found yourself wanting to ask more about him.

You were out of practice in terms of social interaction. It was terrifying to admit, but the fear only made it truer. The blip changed and ruined lives, and while you were getting back on your feet, you still found yourself socially and emotionally stunted at times.

Joaquín didn’t seem to mind the silence. You wondered if he sought it.

Peacefulness and silence didn’t last. The front door opened unexpectedly and Bucky’s heavy steps cut the harmony of Joaquín’s and your breathing.

“I didn’t know you would be coming over,” Bucky grumbled.

Joaquín jumped off his seat. He took the file in his grasp and handed it to Bucky. “Sam wanted me to give you this.”

Humming, Bucky opened the folder. He gave the contents a quick read, then closed it again. “Well, you gave it to me already.”

“Right. Uhmmm...” Joaquín turned to the side and lightly bowed. “Thank you for the coffee, (Name).”

“Anytime,” you said, voice too enthusiastic even for your liking.

Joaquín gave you another smile before leaving the apartment, causing your face to flush.

You attempted to entertain yourself by washing the cups, but you still couldn’t believe you had spoken like a teenager with a crush.

Bucky leaned onto the wall. “I saw the way you were looking at Torres.”

“With my eyes?” you teased.

“With too much enthusiasm.”

“He’s cute,” you admitted as you twisted to look at him.

“Nope, not happening.”

“Not happening what?” Feigning innocence never worked with him, but you still liked trying. However, his glare told you this wasn’t the time to be playful. “Bucky, come on, I just admired the view. It’s not like I’m planning on running after him to ask him to marry me.”

He narrowed his eyes.

“Do you believe me capable of asking somebody I barely know to marry me?” As soon as the question left your mouth, you added, “You know what? Don’t answer that.”

“He gave you the same eyes you were giving him,” Bucky said grumpily.

“He did?”

“Can you be serious for a moment?”

“Oh, Buck, I’m being more than serious.”

He rolled his eyes. “Is this my first time seeing you with a crush?”

“Do you find it charming?”

“You weren’t this cocky with him.”

“Were you eavesdropping?!”

“I thought you had another type of company. Wanted to make sure it was safe to come in.”

“That’s such a bad excuse.”

“Not as bad as your flirting.”

“Just because you used to be a good flirt doesn’t mean you still are. Be humble, Barnes.”

“I’m still better than you.”

You stuck your tongue out. “I’ll become the best flirt in the world. You’ll see.”

“Absolutely not. And Torres is off limits!”

“Awww, do you want him for yourself? Can I have Sam then?”

“You don’t even know him!”

“Sam or Joaquín?”

“Joaquín,” he grumbled.

“Whose fault is that? I couldn’t even get his number because you had to show authority or whatever macho bullshit is clouding your judgment.”

“My judgment isn’t clouded.”

“You need to get laid so I can get laid.”

“What’s wrong with taking things slow? The last date I went on was a disaster.”

“Nothing,” you assured him. “I just think you need to de-stress, have some clarity and see I just have a mild crush.”

“Mild?”

“Yeah. I was kinda intense in high school.” You feigned a shudder. “Dark times.”

“What about college?”

“We don’t talk about that. I had terrible taste.”

“See?”

You tried another approach, “We’re acting like children and I’m pretty sure we are adults. I pay taxes, dude, I can have a crush on whoever I want.”

“Of course. You’re a big girl.”

You could tell he was only going with your flow. But you would take it.

════════════════════════

Bucky sat in front of Sam. Brows furrowed as he went through the same file Joaquín had given him a few days ago.

He didn’t like the idea of going after anybody. He had left violence to the side already. Did this count as ruining it all so soon?

Glancing at Sam, who was expectantly watching him, Bucky sighed. “What about (Name)? What should I tell her?”

“I could send Torres—“

“NO.”

“Barnes,” Sam sighed, “you know we can trust him.”

“For this type of stuff. Not with (Name). You didn’t see the way he was looking at her the last time.”

“He might have a crush,” Sam conceded, “but you’re acting like he wants to murder her.”

“He might,” Bucky said without really meaning it.

Sam crossed his arms. “Do you like her or something?”

“Not like that,” Bucky replied, almost offended. “She’s like a sister to me, Sam. I care about her, I want to protect her.”

“By not letting her see people?”

“You don’t get it.”

“No, I do. And I know damn well this isn’t the right way to do it.”

Bucky scowled, yet knowing Sam wanted to say something else, remained quiet.

“Think about this. You’re worried something will happen to her while we do this, and I’m telling you Torres could keep her safe but you’re being childish because you think you should act like a jealous brother.”

“What if he breaks her heart? Huh? What then? She likes him!”

“He’s nice, of course she likes him! You should be glad he likes her too, dumbass.”

“She’s not ready to date people.”

Sam rolled his eyes.

Bucky shifted in his seat. “I’m not trying to be a dick, Sam. She’s been through hell.”

“Something might not even happen between them, you’re jumping to conclusions way too quickly.” Sam then added, “Unless both are into fast dating in which case things would be fine too.”

“You don’t know that. He could hurt her.”

“You already managed to run a background check on him and—“

Bucky interrupted, “How do you know?”

Sam nonchalantly shrugged. “I’d do the same.”

Bucky hung his head, staring down at the file on the small table. “Can I beat him up if he does something he shouldn’t?”

“He won’t.”

“But can I?”

“Will you shut up if I say yes?”

“Maybe.”

Sam withdrew his phone, tapped the screen a couple of times and brought the device to his ear. “Torres. Are you busy?”

Bucky huffed through his nose and then went back to read the file for the hundredth time.

════════════════════════

The forecast that morning had forced you to carry an umbrella and a jacket that you ultimately had to shed. It rarely rained around your workplace; you couldn’t say the same about your apartment.

You weren’t sure what type of natural phenomenon was at play —or fault, really— but you were not happy about it.

Hoping you hadn’t forgotten to close your bedroom window, you quietly wished your coworkers a good night and made your way towards the exit.

You found a face you seemed to see everywhere. Mostly due to your daydreams, but who could blame you apart from Bucky?

Joaquín slid his right hand off his pocket and waved at you.

Waving back, you approached him. “What are you doing here?”

“You weren’t home so I contacted Sam so he could ask where you could be and Bucky said you worked here so I came here.”

You couldn’t hide your smile upon hearing his convoluted explanation. “I imagined as much. What I meant with my question is why are you here?”

“Oh! I’m making sure you get home safe.”

You frowned. “Is something wrong?”

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “But we don’t want to take any risks.”

You didn’t know who was we exactly although you could assume he was talking about Bucky. And about himself. The realization made your stomach flip.

“Are we walking?”

“I drove here,” he explained, hesitating to make the first move towards his car.

You gave the first step forward, getting slightly closer to him. A whiff of his cologne hit you and just like that it was gone. He started walking too.

“Had a nice day?”

“It wasn’t too bad. How about you?”

“Nothing out of the ordinary.”

You wanted to oh so badly ask what his ordinary was. Fuck, it was like you were having a crush for the first time all over again.

“So... are you staying at mine or...?”

“I’ll sleep here in the car.”

“There’s a couch right there. Kinda comfy if you ask me...”

“I don’t want to intrude.”

“Please, you’ll be there because of me, it’s the least I can do.”

“It’s no problem,” he hurried to assure you.

The streets looked different from the car. Bigger. You were so used to public transport, to see people from afar — to perceive everything from the perspective of somebody trapped in a box that had been created to make things easier for them.

You didn’t feel small per se, yet people looked bigger too. It was as though you had forgotten that people outside of your bubble existed.

Friends were almost nonexistent in a world that still was trying to recover from a once-in-a-lifetime experience.

The people you considered friends kept their distance from you and each other because they didn’t have other choice. Work, school for those privileged enough, debt, grief... all those things got in the way. And perhaps it was better that way for now. Everybody needed to heal.

An empty hallway greeted you. It wasn’t too late, but your neighbors kept mostly to themselves. Bucky preferred it that way.

You pushed the door open after unlocking the two locks, allowing Joaquín to get in first.

He shed his dripping jacket, bashfully hanging it on the coat hanger.

“Can I offer you anything to drink or eat?” you asked, placing your belongings next to the couch.

“Whatever you’ll be having.”

You tugged the fridge door open. “Are you allergic to anything?”

“Not that I know of.” He approached you, leaning on the kitchen bar. “Surprise me?”

“Oh, yeah, I will. With a visit to the ER.”

“Hey, it’d be a surprise nonetheless.”

You giggled and took a glance at him. The ghost of a smile crept into his face before he started laughing too.

“You don’t have a boyfriend that would get mad at me for staying here, do you?”

You chuckled. “No.”

“Are you even into guys?”

“I am.”

“That’s good.” Realizing he had sounded too happy, he added, “I mean... it would also be good if you weren’t, obviously.”

“I get what you meant.”

“Do you?”

“Yeah, it’s cool.”

“Cool.”

Neither of you stopped smiling. You only moved when the fridge’s door alarm interrupted.

You ended up ordering takeout and talking to him past midnight.

But not every night was lighthearted. Such a thing was true to life and to this particular week.

Joaquín was a good distraction before and after work, but the moment the time to say goodnight arrived, worry heaved on your entire body.

You tiptoed your way towards the kitchen, desperate for a glass of water. Hoping the stream of water wouldn’t make too much noise, you filled the glass and stood in the middle of the kitchen, slowly drinking it.

“Can’t sleep?”

You jumped, splashing water onto you and in consequence the floor. A couple of days or so weren’t enough for you to be completely used to Joaquín’s voice. Albeit nice, it was still new.

He turned the light on. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

You clumsily placed the glass on the counter. “It’s okay. I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

Sleep was elusive, something you had assumed was in the past. Insomnia had been your loyal friend throughout the blip, then grief joined.

Bucky was the closest thing you had to a family now. What if you had to grieve him too?

As though he had been reading your mind, Joaquín softly said, “He’ll be okay.”

“You sound so sure...”

“He’s strong and skilled. Sam is too.”

“I’m scared,” you confessed. “I don’t wanna be all alone again.”

He placed his hand on your shoulder. It almost burned you. “You won’t be.”

You pursed your lips. You had heard that one many times before.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah, just... you know...” You started laughing instead of truly explaining yourself.

But you didn’t need to explain anything. “It’s okay, everything will be okay.”

You laughed again, louder this time, nodding because what else could you say? That you couldn’t believe him if you wanted to?

He looked at you with worry. “Do you have any tea?”

You nodded once more, unable to speak as you continue laughing and pointing to the top cupboard.

“I’ll fix you a cup.”

Crying out of laughter, you sat at the small table, leaning on your forearms as you tried to watch him — the tears didn’t allow you to truly assess the damage.

Said tears worried you. The last time you had properly cried seemed to have been too long ago to be healthy.

Then again, not many people were in a healthy position as of now.

Before you could even realize what was going on, Joaquín softly set a cup on the table. “Sorry for not adding sugar, I didn’t think it was a good idea.”

Embarrassed due to the fact that you couldn’t stop laughing, you avoided his eyes and wrapped your fingers around the cup. “Thank you,” you mumbled.

“Hey,” he said softly, “it’s no problem, okay?”

You hummed, inhaling the scent of the tea before taking a small sip.

He made you company as you drank the hot beverage at your own pace. In complete silence, trying to hide from you that he was playing with his fingers under the table.

“Better?”

“I think so.”

“Do you need anything else?”

“I don’t know.”

“You have work tomorrow...”

How could you forget? You stood up with the cup in your grasp and went into the kitchen to wash it.

“I can wake you up for work if you want,” he offered.

“My alarm is loud enough.”

“Oh, yeah,” he said as if he was just remembering, “I’ve heard it.”

You huffed a laugh. “Good night.”

“Good night.”

Before he could turn around, you called for him, “Joaquín?”

“Yes?”

“Would you keep me company until I fall asleep?”

“Of course.”

It felt strange to have somebody that wasn’t Bucky in your bedroom. Joaquín curiously eyed the room while you got comfortable in the bed — his eyes eventually landed on you.

He gripped your desk chair and took it out.

Before he would sit down, you told him, “You can sit on the bed if you prefer. That chair ruined my back.”

Considering the offer, he approached the bed, slowly as he looked at you in case you changed your mind.

You patted the empty space. “I don’t bite.”

Tentatively sitting down, he asked, “Why haven’t you changed the chair?”

“I like the color.”

He softly laughed. “It’s pretty,” he agreed. “Looks nice with your decoration.”

“Thank you.”

His hand brushed your forearm as the two of you shifted at the same time. Your face heated up, and now you wondered if his palm contrasted the softness of the back of his hand.

Joaquín cleared his throat. “Try to sleep,” he whispered, “I’ll be here.”

You took a deep breath before closing your eyes. Focusing on trying to remember what you had been thinking before falling asleep the last time you got some rest, you got lost in your own head.

The door creaked as it was pushed open. Bucky opened his mouth.

Joaquín brought his index finger to his closed lips, signaling for Bucky to not make a sound.

Joaquín looked down at your form, still fast asleep. Your head was on his shoulder, face semi-buried in his t-shirt.

Bucky watched as Joaquín softly removed your head from his shoulder, delicately making it rest onto the pillow — he then left the bed in silence and tucked you into the covers before leaving the room.

”Everything in order?”

Bucky grumbled in affirmation. “What was that?”

“She was worried about you. Couldn’t sleep.”

“Nothing else?”

Joaquín shook his head, hoping he was managing to mask his disappointment.

Bucky hummed. “Thank you, Joaquín. For everything.”

“It was no problem.”

Joaquín collected his few belongings in a minute, taking a glance at the ajar door that separated your bedroom from the lounge area.

“Bucky...”

“Mmh?”

“Could you text me when she wakes up or if she needs anything?”

Bucky stood silent for a few seconds. Seconds that for Joaquín felt like hours. “I will. Go home.”

════════════════════════

Having Bucky back at home was relieving. Except for the fact that he looked like he wanted to say something but didn’t know how to spill it.

“Is there anything you want to say?” you yelled from the couch.

He stopped chopping carrots to lift his head. “Did you get Torres’s number?”

Turning the TV off, you pushed yourself to a sitting position and eventually left the couch.

“Yeah, I did.”

“Have you called him?”

“I sent him a meme.” You extended your hand, taking a piece of carrot. “He laughed and sent one back.”

“I assumed you would have asked for his hand in marriage by the time I would be back.”

“Ha ha, you’re so funny.”

Bucky snorted. You munched on your cube of carrot.

“Maybe you’re reading too much into it. He’s genuinely nice, you know? People can be friends regardless of gender.”

“What happened to wanting to get laid?”

“I doubt it’s mutual.”

“He likes you and you like him. That’s practically the definition of mutualism.”

“You said he was off-limits,” you accused.

“He isn’t anymore.”

“I didn’t get the memo.”

“Don’t get grumpy with me.”

“I’m not grumpy.” You pouted. “But what if he doesn’t like me that way? He’s a really nice person, maybe that’s it.”

“Oh my God,” Bucky exhaled, shaking his head. “You’re impossible.”

You whined, “Buuuuuuuuucky. Don’t be mean.”

“Don’t act obtuse then.”

“I haven’t dated anybody in years. I don’t know how to do it. He’s fun to talk to, don’t get me wrong — I’m the problem.” You sighed dramatically. “We should throw a pity party for me,” you sarcastically said.

“Why do you think I’m making lasagna?”

“I honestly thought Sam was coming over for dinner.”

Bucky blushed due to his inability to be subtle which was the most shocking thing you had learned about him.

Truth to be told, Bucky’s words stayed in your mind for days. You continued casually texting Joaquín, not sure if you should ask him out or let it go.

You wanted to, and it wouldn’t be the first time you had made the first move — that didn’t bother you. What bothered you was the mere idea of asking him out too soon.

Seeing your phone light up with Joaquín’s name and a message attached to it genuinely improved your day every single time.

It was so hard not to be in his orbit when apart from being handsome he was so nice and easy to talk to.

You liked him, you really did. You also liked that things didn’t feel awkward with him when you knew they would’ve been unbearable with somebody else. It was liberating.

Are you home?

Nope.

If you were looking for Bucky, he’s out on a date.

I know. But I’m not here to see him.

You’re there?

Yeah. I’ve been here for a few minutes now.

I’m having drinks with my coworkers. Two of them are celebrating their birthday. I can ditch if you need anything.

I wanted to see you.

I also wanted to ask...

Are you busy next Saturday?

Your heart skipped a beat. I’m not.

Eyes glued to the three dots that signaled he was typing, you finished your drink in a single swig.

Would you go out with me?

You can pick wherever we go, I don’t mind.

I would love to!

Was the exclamation mark too much?

Fuck, you felt like a teenager again.

And I don’t mind if you pick.

Why don’t we make that decision later?

Sounds good to me.

Sorry for making you wait outside for nothing.

I’m the one who appeared unannounced, but it’s okay. I got almost everything I wanted.

You’re making not ditching really hard right now.

Good to know I’m doing something right.

But you should hang out with your coworkers.

And be careful. If you remember, text me when you get home.

It was stupidly hard not to be smitten by him.

════════════════════════

“For the millionth time, you look fine.”

You glared at Bucky.

“He’s right,” Sam assured you from the couch. “You look fine, and it’s just a casual date. You’ll be okay.”

“Just a casual date?” you asked in a high pitch that surprised the three of you.

“He’s seen you in the morning already,” Bucky reminded you, lifting his eyebrows. “I don’t understand why you’re so nervous.”

“I’m not nervous,” you defended yourself. “I’ve had these jeans for literal years and I’m scared I’m gonna rip them.”

“Take a jacket or coat with you just in case.” Sam offered the solution immediately.

You did as Sam suggested and carried your favorite jacket over your forearm.

In contrast to what you saw every morning, there wasn’t a single familiar face in the subway. As you checked the time to make sure you wouldn’t be late, you saw that one of your other friends had wished you good luck on your date.

The fact that somebody apart from Bucky —and Sam— openly wanted you to succeed at something outside of work improved your mood. You had lied to Bucky earlier regarding being nervous, less due to embarrassment, and more because you didn’t want to admit you were scared of still not knowing how to handle things when they went wrong.

Rejection was easier to take in comparison to the way things crumble after they seem to be going well. Rejection is quick, it eventually passes — regret and what-ifs potentially stay forever. You had the scars to prove it.

You had to walk a couple of blocks from the station to the place you would meet Joaquín at. The area was new to you, colorful and lively from what looked to be brand new businesses.

Upon arriving at the diner, you understood why Joaquín had chosen that place. It wasn’t crowded by any means, but it looked far from empty. It was the perfect middle ground for a first date.

Such observation didn’t ease up your nerves, yet giddiness couldn’t stop itself from bubbling up.

“Oh!” he exclaimed from behind you. “I was about to text you.”

You turned around. “I just got here.”

Joaquín silently stared at you, taking a shaky breath and bobbing his head open and closed.

He settled for a short compliment, easier to say than the jumbled mess of euphoric reactions he internalized, “You look great.”

“I—“ You weren’t expecting that. “Thank you. You look really nice.”

You might have been selling it short, he looked as handsome as ever and more — but you didn’t want to sound intense or say too much and scare him off.

He looked down for a moment, trying to fight the warmth crawling up his skin. “Thank you,” he said quietly before looking up once again.

His bashfulness was a good sign, it would be less awkward if both of you felt the same way about the prospect of a first date.

“I found this place by mistake a few weeks ago,” he told you as he opened the door for you. “Their coffee is great.”

He let you choose the table, arguing that it was your first there and he wanted you to have the best experience. You appreciated his effort.

Bucky and Sam mentioned you could come across as being uncomfortable around others, he must’ve been under the same impression.

In all fairness, it was less about being uncomfortable and more about being scared of oversharing.

“Are you a big coffee guy?”

“Kind of. I’m used to instant coffee even though I don’t like it so I try a different one every time I can.”

“I have a coworker who is obsessed with that stuff.” You chuckled. “But they drink it cold.”

Joaquín huffed a laugh. “It might taste better like that.”

The conversation deviated from mindless small talk to work, and then to your interests — it was refreshing to know you shared a few and even more so to find he was open to giving things he didn’t know a try.

After eating, the two of you decided to take a walk just so you could talk some more.

Your hand brushed his by mistake. Joaquín looked down. He pressed the back of his hand against yours, momentarily pushing his fingers between yours.

“Is that okay?”

“Yes.”

He pulled away then slid his hand under yours. Clasping his palm against yours, he stared at your face in search of your reaction. “How about that?”

“Also yes.”

He smiled. “Good thing I listened to Sam when he said I wasn’t imagining things and you were into me too.”

“You know, I almost made the first move.”

“What stopped you?”

You shrugged. “Maybe I would have drunkenly asked you out if you hadn’t beat me to it.”

He hummed yet made no further comment.

“You don’t believe me?”

“I do, I do!”

“Buuuuuuut?”

“It took us a while to exchange phone numbers. Imagine if it had taken us the same to go out?”

“Oh God, we would be stuck third-wheeling Sam and Bucky.”

“I’m so sorry you have no escape from that,” he joked.

“I just hope they never have sex when I’m in the apartment or I will need therapy I can’t afford.”

He lightly squeezed your hand. “I’ll rescue you, don’t worry.”

It was your turn to smile. “I’ll take that as a sign that I’ll be seeing you again.”

“As long as you don’t see it as a threat...”

You giggled. “I would never.”

According to the blog posts you read online, guys seemed to like it when the other person assured them they had a good time with them. You hoped he had gotten the hint.

In case he hadn’t, you said, “There was this coffee shop near my childhood home that I used to love... They had the best chocolate cake I’ve ever tasted and the coffee was delicious too. I heard it reopened...”

“We should go there next time.”

“Sounds good. I haven’t visited the neighborhood in a while.”

“Any reason in particular?”

“I don’t know anybody around there anymore.”

It was getting late and you knew your time together would be over. At least for tonight.

He walked you toward the subway station, swinging your intertwined hands. The conversation didn’t seem to end, he could thread on any topic and you would’ve listened to him until his voice was hoarse and his throat dry.

You couldn’t leave without properly telling him what a great time you had. It was too soon to know what would happen, you weren’t naive, but you also really fucking liked him.

“I had a great time,” you reassured him. “Thank you.”

“Me too. I hope it repeats soon.”

You did too. All those nerves had thankfully paid off.

He scratched the back of his head with his free hand. “I’m sorry if I’m being too forward, but... can I kiss you?”

“You’re not being too forward.”

“Is that a yes?”

“Yes.”

Joaquín licked his bottom lip and cupped your cheek with a hand. His other one tightly held yours, giving you time. You wetted your lips too. Then he leaned in and kissed you.

You basked in the kiss’s bliss. Short, sweet, perfect in every single aspect. The kind of human contact you had longed for years and had been too scared to look for.

His eyes were on you as you opened your own — shining with a happy glint.

“You’re even prettier from up-close,” he commented lowly, hand still on your face.

Your gaze fell to his wrist for a second. Then you held his. “I could say the same to you.”

“Thank God.” He giggled.

“You said you needed to wake up early tomorrow...” you said, much to your own dismay. You didn’t want to be selfish.

“I’ll wait for your train to get here.”

And so he did, and you almost cursed the stupid giant can when it arrived.

You reluctantly let go of his hand. “Text me when you get home just so I know you arrived safely, yeah?”

He nodded. “Promise.”

“Goodnight.”

He kissed your cheek. “Goodnight.”

[buck-buck-boose]

I'll Love You 'Til I Die

Masterlist | Playlist

Summary: A Brooklyn schoolgirl fell in love with James Buchanan Barnes at the tender age of nine. With this love she made a vow, promising to love him until her very last breath.

Pairing: Bucky x OFC

Warnings: language, mentions of violence and gore (not too graphic)

Word Count: 3.4k

Author's Note: The story is starting to pick up pace again ;)

Chapter Twenty: The Recruits

March 18, 1943

In the two months following the nurses’ success with the serum, Camp Lehigh had nearly tripled in its inhabitants. Throughout their research and training, the five women were surrounded by fuddy-duddy sergeant majors and their crotchety commanders, with Agent Carter as their only equal; by the end of January, hundreds of recruits were being shipped in. The base seemed to be teeming with fresh-faced boys who thought not of the unforgiving grip of death, but of the blazing glory of victory— the gore and trauma of war meant little to them, but Lottie knew that she would have an intimate relationship with the horrors of war.

Sometimes all she dreamt of was blood. Blood on her hands, on her white dress, and oozing in puddles beneath her feet; the crimson color seemed to stain every inch of her skin, streaking her pale flesh with a sickeningly deep red. She told no one about her dreams because they seemed so foolish to her. Lottie hadn’t experienced a day in fieldwork, and here she was having these nightmares about the gore of war.

The ambient sounds of Camp Lehigh drew her out of her thoughts and grounded her.

Lottie was standing alone, rather dazedly, outside of the nurses’ barracks, observing all the commotion surrounding the recruits. She was still getting used to the chaotic environment that unfolded around her; everywhere she looked, there were lines of marching soldiers, followed hotly by shouting commanders, or trucks careening around buildings, as if always running late for some rendezvous. Gone were the days of picnicking in the grass and basking in the sun— the base was now all hustle and bustle, with little time for leisure.

All the activity had thrown a wrench into her combat training; Agent Carter had been training her on an individual basis with both firearms and knives, but the soldiers now needed more training than she did. Lottie had become more than proficient in the use of her M1911, which left her wanting to learn more. On the advice of Agent Carter, she’d taken up the KA-BAR and they had begun training with the knife only a few weeks prior. She was more than a little disappointed by the abrupt end to their training, but Lottie understood that training the men who would be doing the actual fighting was the higher priority. The one saving grace of Camp Lehigh was that the base was outfitted with two obstacle courses for physical training so the nurses could continue their exercises each morning. Although their combat training was put on hold, they could continue preparing their bodies for the stress of war.

A distinctly male voice interrupted her train of thought— was that a Brooklyn accent she heard?

“Hey sugar! You rationed?”

Lottie blinked for a moment and looked to her right. A group of men stood outside their own barracks, sharing a pack of cigarettes. She easily identified the man who’d spoken by the way he smiled at her; it was the same charming, lopsided grin that she’d seen on Bucky’s face countless times. His brilliantly blond hair caused a tug at her heartstrings; it was almost the same shade as Steve’s. That’s where the resemblance stopped, though; his eyes were a chestnut brown and his build was sturdier.

Lottie didn’t move from her spot, “Is that your way of asking if a lady’s got a fella waiting for her back home?”

The soldier’s grin only seemed to grow at the sound of her own Brooklyn accent, “A Brooklyn gal, eh? A woman after my own heart. What’s your name, doll?”

“I’m Lottie Green. But that’s Lieutenant Green to you, Private.” She smirked, relishing in her title. The year before, Congress had authorized the promotion of Army nurses to the ranks of Second Lieutenant, granting them positions of power in a largely male environment.

The soldier ambled over to her, flicking the ashes from the butt of his cigarette.

“Ah, so you’re one of those girls they hired to patch us up, then? I always knew there’d be choirs of angels when I died, but I didn’t know they’d send ‘em to fix us up when we’re wasting away.” He was a flirt, that was for sure, but she felt a pang of annoyance at his belittling of her profession

She wasn’t just some ‘girl’ who was shipped out to slap Band-Aids on his scratches and send him on his way with a pat on the head. She’d spent the last year of her life dedicated to formulating the perfect Super Soldier Serum. Lottie was a woman— a powerful woman who would one day hold the lives of so many men in her hands.

Lottie mustered up a wry smile, “While I haven’t got a fella back home, Private, a medic tent isn’t exactly ideal for courtship, is it?”

Without waiting for a response, she departed and made her way toward the obstacle course that was currently in use. Dr. Erskine had requested that the nurses of Project Rebirth be present for some of the recruits’ training sessions since they would be the best opportunities to scout out candidates for America’s first Super Soldier. These candidates would not only need to be physically capable but also morally incorruptible. An aspect of the serum that was discussed briefly was how it had amplified Schmidt’s already malicious personality; if they made the same mistake by administering it to a man of morally questionable character, they could have another failure on their hands.

When Lottie neared the obstacle course, she caught the tail end of Colonel Phillips’ speech to this batch of recruits.

“—but every army starts with one man. At the end of this week, we will choose that man. He will be the first in a new breed of Super Soldiers.”

Lottie barely had time to glance at the recruits who were lined up a handful of yards away from her. A clipboard had been thrust into her hands, stacked with papers that listed the soldiers’ names, dates of birth, and measurements. She scanned the pages, barely registering any information due to the sheer amount of it; it was too overwhelming to process properly.

“I heard Colonel Phillips has taken a real liking to Gilmore Hodge,” Gladys whispered, shuffling her papers.

Betty made a disapproving noise, “Agent Carter socked that guy in the kisser. No way in hell he’s our guy.”

“I agree!” Mary piped up, “His moral character is real atrocious.”

Nancy seemed to be torn, “He is the most promising recruit thus far. Sure, he’s gotta work on his manners, but gosh, even his measurements set him apart from the rest.”

Lottie hummed in thought and finally looked up to watch the recruits in action, her eyes narrowed. For the most part, the soldiers got through the net climbing efficiently and descended the other side with ease, but a particular recruit was struggling to get a sure footing in the netting. Her heart started pounding in her ears— she knew that build, that stature. It couldn’t be, he’d been rejected at the enlistment. Sure enough, the soldier lost his footing and fell with his other foot still caught in the ropes.

Lottie’s breath caught in her throat as she stared at the flushed face of one of her childhood best friends. In the distance, she could hear a sergeant berating him for his clumsiness, but her attention could not be torn away from his face. She was at a loss as to what to do; he obviously hadn’t seen her but she couldn’t call out to him to get his attention, as that would land him in more trouble than he was already in.

“Poor guy,” Mary murmured, wincing in sympathy. It seemed that she’d also noticed the trouble that Steve had been having.

“Yeah,” Lottie replied lamely, biting at her lip in anxious thought.

What would she even say to him if he saw her? Would he even acknowledge her? She knew she’d just about die if she had to undergo a silent treatment from Steve. But she deserved it, she was sure. There wasn’t a day that had gone by where she didn’t think of her boys back home. She often found herself lying in bed late at night, staring at the ceiling and listening to the breathing patterns of the other nurses in the barracks. Lottie would roll her lucky penny between her fingers and think of her best friends back home. Were they asleep? Or out at the dance hall again, trying to woo some women into a couple of dates for the next night? She prayed nightly for their safety; their safekeeping. It was a fool’s prayer, she knew— it was a war, after all. But that never stopped her from begging God on high to protect her most beloved friends.

The commotion of the obstacle course had died down, but the yells of the sergeants had not died down; it seemed that they were to continue their training elsewhere.

Betty noticed Lottie’s lost look, “They’re having ‘em run the trail.” She gestured to the tree line where they would usually do their morning runs.

Gladys looked over her clipboard, “I think it’d be best if we head back to the mess hall and grab a bite to eat. We can talk all of this,” she gestured to their clipboards, stacked high with papers, “once we’ve all got full stomachs and clear minds. I hope you all took notes, ‘cause I sure did!”

Lottie was silent on the way to the mess hall, still reeling from the fact that Steve had somehow been recruited for the military. There had to have been some mistake; he’d most likely spend more time in her medic tent than on the battlefield. Running into battle would have him hospitalized even before an enemy could manage to hit him.

They sat in their usual spot at the back of the mess hall, at a table in the corner that had been pushed up against a wall; it kept them out of the way and allowed them a sense of privacy from the other staff members. Lottie absentmindedly peeled at an orange while she listened to the conversation of her friends.

“If we can’t have Hodge for the serum, I think Johnson might be a promising guy!”

Betty laughed, “Do you really think that or do you just like the way he looks in his fatigues, Mary?”

“Gosh, I just think they bring out the green in his eyes! Either way, he’s certainly got the build for it.”

“He’s such a knucklehead, though. He couldn’t figure out the proper way to hold his rifle while he went under the barbed wire. He was practically dragging it through the mud by its strap.” Betty rolled her eyes, unimpressed with the performances of most of the men during training.

There was some continued discussion on the topic, but it was interrupted by the entrance of dozens of soldiers. They needed no introduction, as the sounds of their hoots and hollers, as well as the aroma of their body odor, heralded their arrival at the mess hall. Lottie shot to her feet, unable to stop herself from searching the sea of men for a scrawny man with too much pluck for his own good. The men milled about as they grabbed trays of food and seated themselves, loudly conversing about the training they’d just experienced.

Finally, Lottie’s eyes locked with those of a scrawny blond guy who looked as if he’d just seen a ghost. He was all the way at the other end of the mess hall, but that didn’t matter, she rushed to him as quickly as she could. She so desperately wanted to hug him before he could turn and run from her. She knew that her silly display was surely catching the attention of other soldiers, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to care; she hadn’t seen one of her best friends in over a year, dammit! She walked quickly between the tables to where he stood by the food line.

“Stevie,” Lottie choked out, crushing him in a tight hug. Tears threatened to escape her eyes, but she refused to make a scene in front of half of the recruits.

“Lottie I—” Steve began, “I dunno what to say. Why are you here? Why did you lie?”

He asked the questions with such earnest bewilderment, with sincere sorrow that nearly destroyed Lottie. He didn’t seem angry with her at all; he was instead deeply hurt, and it was all because of her. When she pulled away from their embrace, she saw the pain in his eyes and recognized it— it was the same pain she had felt when thinking of Steve and Bucky, praying for their safety.

Lottie was becoming acutely aware of the attention they were attracting but that was the least of her concerns at the moment. If Colonel Phillips caught wind of their little embrace, he would surely berate her about relationships with the soldiers, as he couldn’t fathom the idea of a platonic relationship between a nurse and one of his men. She would deal with that situation at a later time. At that moment, Lottie knew that an apology and explanation were long overdue. She planned on apologizing to him sincerely in private, but she knew that an explanation could not wait.

She grabbed Steve’s wrist and pulled him towards the table at the back of the hall, “Please trust me, Steve. I can explain everything, but I’m gonna need their help.” Lottie jerked her head in the direction of the other nurses, “What I did was real crummy of me, I know, and I’ll apologize over and over until the day I die, but I promise that it needed to be done. The girls over here will help me explain it all so you can understand.”

“Well, who do we have here?” Betty questioned as they approached, arching a carefully plucked brow.

Steve awkwardly shifted his weight and shoved his hands in his pockets, obviously intimidated by her steady gaze and cool demeanor, “Steve Rogers, ma’am.”

Mary’s eyes lit up, “One of Lottie’s Brooklyn boys! Now do tell me, where is Private Barnes? Because I absolutely must meet the man that our Lottie is so infa—”

Before she could finish her sentence, Gladys kicked her shin under the table and answered the question for Steve, “I’ve looked through every file Dr. Erskine has given to us and there’s no Private Barnes here.”

Lottie shot Gladys a grateful smile, albeit a weak one. She cleared her throat and addressed the group of women before her, “I promised Steve here that I’d explain why I fell off the face of the Earth for a solid year, but I’ll need your help filling in all the details.”

It took nearly an hour to catch Steve up on all the events of the past year. The nurses gave him as much information as they could, though there was certain classified information that they were privy to— the formula for the Super Soldier Serum —but could not be shared with anyone outside of Project Rebirth. Steve interrupted regularly to pose questions about different aspects of their research, obviously invested in all the work they’d done for Dr. Erskine and Mr. Stark. When they recounted their experiences testing the prototype serum on various tissue samples, he went a sickly shade of green, so they quickly ended that train of thought. They glossed over the details of how they finished the serum and their discovery of how Vita-Ray Radiation affected its ingredients. His brow seemed to furrow exponentially with every scientific term used

“And that’s the skinny on what we’ve been up to for the past year,” Gladys finished, holding back a giggle at Steve’s overwhelmed facial expression.

“Thank you, ladies,” Lottie smiled and rose from her seat, gesturing for Steve to follow, “Steve and I are gonna step outside for a moment.” She led him across the mess hall and outside; they came to a stop after they rounded the corner of the building. She stood against the wall, fidgeting with the hem of her jacket sleeve.

“Stevie, I owe you an apology. After the attacks I just knew that the world would go to shit,” Lottie felt her eyes start to water, “and well— it’s my job as a nurse to save lives, y’know? I couldn’t just stay home and twiddle my thumbs while everyone else went to take care of our boys overseas. And I know Bucky made me promise not to and all that, but I’d already enlisted. I knew if I told him the truth, we’d fight, and I’d have left you two on a really sour note, which isn’t what I wanted at all.”

“So, you decided it would be better to lie about going to your parents’ for Christmas and leave the two of us wondering for months?” Steve’s tone wasn’t scathing but the question still cut deep.

Lottie sniffled and knew that there was little she could do to hold back the tide of tears that would surely start flowing, “I was being horribly selfish; I knew it would hurt the both of you but I was just so afraid and uncertain about it all. I knew you two would get real concerned for me and I just didn’t want that. Plus, you have to understand, Stevie, when I enlisted, they offered me a position in a high-level government organization. I couldn’t tell anyone about my whereabouts or where I would be going— all I could say was that I would be training for the Nurse Corps. It wasn’t fully my choice to keep these things from you and Bucky; it would’ve been risky to tell anyone about the SSR or what I would be doing for them. I know you two would’ve been good about keeping it a secret, but I was still so afraid, Steve. I didn’t want to let the SSR down, so I guess that meant I had to let you two down instead.” She stared at her shoes, letting the tears roll down her cheeks and fall to the dirt below.

“Thank you for telling me the truth, Lottie. It really hurt me when I realized you weren’t coming back. I understand where you were coming from, though I don’t agree with what you did. I forgive you, but Bucky— he, well,” Steve shook his head sadly, “You should’ve seen him when he got back from bootcamp and you weren’t at the station, Lottie. Worried out of his mind, he was. I’d written to your folks a month or so earlier; it was mid-January so I knew something was up. They told me you’d joined the Corps, but didn’t know where you’d been sent. I told him everything I’d learned and he hasn’t been the same since; he was always on edge. Even the night before he was shipped out to England, when we went out with Bonnie and Connie—”

“England?” Lottie’s voice was weak with disbelief. She shouldn’t have been surprised, he was going to be deployed at some point, after all. Somehow, it still hit her like a punch to the gut.

She held onto the hope that they were at least exchanging letters to check in with each other. “Have you kept in contact with him at least?”

“I didn’t think to get an address before he left.” Steve muttered, digging the toe of his boat into the dirt in front of him.

“Dammit,” Lottie hissed and wiped away hot tears that continued to stream from her eyes. She was utterly helpless and could do nothing about it; she had no way of contacting Bucky to make sure he was safe. For all she knew, he could be one of those men bleeding in a medic tent— lying limply in a cot that was not his, thousands of miles away from home. She could only hope that he had a kind nurse that would wipe the sweat from his brow and murmur soothing sounds that would remind him of home.

At Camp Lehigh, Lottie was constantly reminded of home. She saw Bucky in every soldier she met, whether it be through their personality, charm, or looks, they all served as a reminder of him. When it came down to it, neither Massachusetts nor Brooklyn was home to her— it was only Bucky that she could truly call home.

And as their time apart continued to drag on, she realized that she was beginning to feel terribly homesick.

[all1e23]

Toasted Coconut

Pairings: Sugar Daddy!Bucky x Reader

Summary: Why does everything seem to fall apart faster than it came together?

Warnings:  Angst.

A/N:   It’s finally here! Yes, I did it. I added Johnny Storm and yes, I am using Evans Storm because I find that hilarious consider Steve is in this chapter a bit. It’s probably not as funny as I find it. But, ya know. If you like it come sing me a song, write me a story or scream at me!  This is the fifth part of my series Sugary Sweet. Make sure you catch up!

***My fics are not to be saved or posted on any other sites without my written permission. Reblogs are my jam, though! Thanks!***

You had insisted that you would meet Bucky at The Plaza. It’s been a bit since you laid eyes on each other, and you were nervous to see him again. Not the mention the fact that there was a slight chance Wanda and Nat would attack him the moment he arrived. It was better for everyone if you met him there. He had argued with you, of course. Bucky didn’t like meeting you there as if you were just some woman he was taking out -- a meaningless date. That really had your hackles up because that’s exactly what you were. You were just some woman he was using to pass the time until he found his wife. 

Whoever that famed siren of a woman may be. 

The dress Bucky had picked stole your breath when you opened the box he had delivered to your apartment. It was a pretty champagne color, with thin straps and completely covered in glitter that started heavy on the top and faded away to leave sheer fabric shimmering around your feet. The back was as low as a designer could get it without showing something entirely inappropriate. You weren’t surprised. Bucky loved your back. He liked to run his knuckles up and down your spine and feel the way you shivered from the slightest of brushes. 

It was breathtaking, and yeah, you looked gorgeous. You couldn’t deny that, but you would much rather be spending the night in one of Bucky’s ratty old shirts than in this fancy gown surrounded by all these people that simply didn’t matter. Your days with Bucky were numbered, and you didn’t know how many more you would get to call him yours -- this isn’t how you wanted to spend those days.  

Your heels clinked loudly on the floor and bounced off the stone walls of the ballroom. There had to be close to a thousand people gathered around cocktail tables, auction tables, and the bar. You’ve never seen a room this gorgeous before. The paintings, the sculptures within the stonework; it was beautiful and had you on edge. Your nerves were finally making their presence known the further you made it through the crowd. You felt out of place next to all these people. They were worth millions, some billions if you counted Stark. You undoubtedly didn’t belong here, no matter how much sparkle you were wearing. 

The crowd was massive. No sign of Bucky or Steve. You thought you caught a glimpse of Sam, but it turned out to be someone you didn’t know. You were beginning to think this was all a mistake, and you should find your way to the bar. Bucky would have to find you there eventually. Or maybe, you should go simply go home. 

A roughened hand pressed on to the small of your back sending all your thoughts haywire, fingertips brushed under the fabric of your gown teasing the sensitive skin hidden there for only a moment, and there was a scratch of stubble against your neck before you felt two soft lips land just below your ear. Everything you were feeling about not being enough melted the second you heard his voice. 

“You look…” Bucky groaned in your ear and slid his hand around your waist, pulling you back against his chest. “You’re way too gorgeous to actually be mine. Let’s skip this whole damn thing. I change my mind. I’d rather take you home and make love to you for the rest of the night.” 

Your heart fluttered at the thought, and it reminded you there was something you should be doing, Tell him you know! Let him explain for himself! You weren’t listening. The damage had been done, and no explanation would fix the hurt his words caused. You slowly spun around in his grasp and wrapped an arm around his neck, smiling widely when you spot the excitement sparkling in his eyes. He looked so excited to see you as if you were the best thing in the room. 

How was he so good at faking his feelings for you? 

“I am fairly certain you told me you had to come and had to make at least three bids before I could let you leave. As well as make sure you were seen by all the big, important people here.” 

“Yeah, but I wasn’t prepared for this baby…” Bucky ran his tongue over his lips, eyes trained on yours. “I don’t think I can concentrate when you look this good.” 

You laughed and gave him a slow teasing kiss, just barely brushing against his lips and whispered. “You picked out the dress.” 

“I’m a masochist. Clearly.” 

With your arm hooked in his, you pulled him towards the table where Steve and Sharon were resting, talking Sam. Bucky didn’t want to talk, though. You knew that by the way, he was pawing at your dress as discreetly as one can while maneuvering through a sea of New York’s finest. 

Bucky had left your side for what was supposed to be a short chat with someone about some rehabilitation project in Queens, nearly the second you arrived at the table. The talk was longer than he intended, and he proceeded to get snatched up by important person after important person. Bucky flashed you an apologetic smile as an older gentleman ushered him towards a work of art, and you could see the want in his eyes hidden behind all that frustration. He didn’t want to be there, but it was part of his job. A big part. You could keep yourself entertained while he worked. You wandered off towards the bar and settled on a stool that probably cost more than the couch in your living room. 

A sharp whistle hits your ears as you deciding what to order, and it had you turning your head to find the source. You expected to see Sam standing there ready to tease you, but instead, you found a strange man you didn’t know watching you with interest. His hair was buzzed so short you could nearly see his scalp, he was younger than most of the people in the room. You would have guessed close to your age, if not, only a few years older -- much closer to your age than your current beau. 

“That’s a hell of a dress you got on tonight, beautiful.” 

He gave you a charming smirk and leaned his elbow on the bar next to you. He was obviously trying to tease you, gain a bit of your desire, and judging by the smug smile on his face, he wasn’t used to having to work very hard to make women swoon over him. You were not interested in the least, but you should at least make conversation while you wait for the man you were engaged with. 

“Nice suit.”

“Nice suit? Nice?” The stranger squawked in disbelief. He ran his hands over his jacket, looking every bit a pained, entitled schoolboy, and for some reason, you couldn’t figure out you found it entirely adorable. He glanced down at his attire and back to you, whispering with on full pout, “This is Gucci.” 

You chuckled quietly and shook your head, wearing a small conciliatory smile as you shrug. “My boyfriend’s suit is a lot nicer is all I’m saying.” 

Okay, so  Bucky wasn’t your boyfriend. He was your… whatever he was, but Bucky was, in fact, still yours, and you were always going to be his. For now. You weren’t going to flirt with some guy that threw you a cheesy line while you were on a date with the man you… love. There you admitted it. Your heart and head can shut up now and leave you to fall apart in peace.

The man licked his lips and leaned both elbows on the bar next to you. “Boyfriend, huh? That your subtle way of telling me I’m wasting my time?” 

Your eyes quickly scanned the crowd looking for Bucky, but he was nowhere to be found. 

“In a sense, you are. I’m taken.” 

“By tall, dark, and broody?” 

You grinned. 

“Yes, by tall, dark, and broody.” For as long as he wants me anyway, you couldn’t help the bitter thought from filling your head. 

“Interesting.” 

“So…” You raised your brow, waiting for him to introduce himself before you carried on.

“Johnny. Johnny Storm.” 

“Johnny,” You repeated and smiled kindly, too kindly. “You saw me with my boyfriend and thought it would be a good idea to come over and talk to me?” 

“Well…” Johnny paused, waiting for you. 

“Y/n.” 

“Y/n,” He repeated with the same charming smile he wore earlier. “You looked lonely, and if I'm honest, I saw you the second you walked through the door. Pretty sure everyone did. It was way before I saw the two of you together. I just wanted to see if I could keep you company and maybe get a real smile out of you before the night over.” 

The smile on your face faltered only a fraction, and your heart twisted at his words. He was right. You didn’t have to see your face to know you have that look on your face. You’ve had it since Boston, and nothing seemed to make it go away. The only person that could fix it was Bucky, but he wasn’t interested in doing so. 

“Okay, how about this? What if I sit down right here.” Johnny pointed to the stool in front of him and slowly sat down, leaving an empty seat between you two. “I can keep you company until Prince Grumpy comes back to whisk you off your feet.” 

You gnaw on your bottom lip. It wasn’t a good idea. Spending time with Johnny only made you yearn for Bucky that much more. 

“I’m getting two glasses of champagne,” Johnny added with a grin. “One could be for you. It matches the sparkle you’re wearing so damn well.” 

You rolled your eyes and shifted over to the empty stool. 

“You’re not impressing me, you know? It’s an open bar.” 

Johnny threw his head back, his whole body shaking from laughter. You liked that. He was free with whatever he was feeling. It was right there, out in the open, and there was no room for guessing. It was merely a given. Two glasses were placed in front of you, and you grabbed one, sliding it in place in front of you. 

“Damn.” He wheezed quietly. “ I didn’t think you knew that. Totally thought I was suave. Your boyfriend already try that one on you?” 

“Nope. He doesn’t need all that to get my attention.”

Johnny winced and blew out a pained breath, his fingers were fidgeting around the stem of the champagne glass in his hands, and he muttered, a little defeated but attempting to keep hope floating, “Man, I’ve got no chance, do I?” 

You spun around on your stool to face him, You were grinning now, and you shrugged your shoulders casual like. Why were you holding back from talking to this cute guy again? Bucky doesn’t want you. He made that clear in Boston. He didn’t see a future with you, so why were you turning away someone who could see you for more than something temporary? You knew, deep down, this Johnny guy didn’t stand a chance next to Bucky, but it was nice to know when Bucky was through with you, someone else could see you and still want you. 

“Not really, but I didn’t take you as someone who backs down from a challenge.” 

He watched you for a second, taking you in now that you were up close and fully facing him. He finally shook his head, took a big swig of from his glass, and said, “Not usually. This isn’t a challenge I can win, though. Now, is it?”

Your smile fell a bit as you turned back around to face the bartender, and you muttered against the glass pressed to your lips, “No, it’s really not.”  

A few tables over Bucky was adjusting his bow tie, aggressively. He wanted out of the damn thing, and he wanted to find you, which was evident to everyone around him by his constant fidgeting. 

“Where is your gal?” Steve pushed with that stupid dopy grin. 

Bucky honestly had no idea where you had gotten off to. He had to make the rounds mingle with people he would rather not, and in the midst of it all, he lost you. It looked like you had made your way towards the bar through the sea of stiff suits and chiffon so he could start there and work his way around the room. 

“I don’t know, Stevie.” He patted the taller man's shoulder. “I’m gonna go find out, ya?” 

He navigated his way through the crowd, making a hard left when he heard Stark’s loud obnoxious rambling about what was art and what was not. It was bad enough he had to come to this damn thing and bid on art he wasn’t going to hang up, but no one was going to tell him what crappy art he could or could not bid on. Someone called his name, and he turned back to give them a quick handshake and a ‘how ya doing.’ Bucky spun back around, and his heart dropped when he spotted you, fell right out of his chest, and dropped to his feet. You were laughing, harder than he’s seen in a long time, and it was thanks to the young guy next to you. 

Bucky waited too long. He should have said something in Boston or before he loved you, but it was all too late now.  

---------------

It took Bucky a long time to find you at the bar, which you thought was strange. He should know by now at events like that you always go to the bar when you get separated, but by the tension in his shoulders, you assumed something happened with a client or with Tony Stark. Tony tended to hit all the right buttons where Bucky was concerned, or that was what Steve told you.  It wasn’t long after you found each other that Bucky asking if you were ready to leave, assuming he meant back to his place you readily agreed. The drive was silent, and he didn’t take you back to his penthouse, he dove you out to Brooklyn to your apartment. It wasn’t uncommon to spend nights at your place, but with The Plaza being so close to his, you thought that’s where you would spend the night. 

You guessed wrong. 

Bucky quietly walked you up to your door and stood a few steps back, waiting for you to unlock it. The door swung open to the dark apartment, and you immediately began to remove your heels before you even stepped through the door.  Bucky watched from the hallway as you stepped out of your heels, letting them hang off your fingers by the tiny ankle strap. You turned to look at him, sultry smile in place. “Are you going to come in so I can thank you for tonight?” 

You couldn’t read his expression, but it was one you’ve never seen on his face, not while he was looking at you. You didn’t know what happened tonight, but it was almost if he didn’t want to come in -- he didn’t want you. 

"Not tonight, doll. I have an early day tomorrow. I should get home.” He pressed a gentle kiss to your cheek, the same way he would Sharon, and it left you... confused, heartbroken, and frankly a little discouraged. You knew he could read the confusion clouding your eyes and the slight disappointment you were emitting, but he made no effort to explain his actions. He simply carried on his way as if he had already given you a proper goodbye. 

“Should I come by for dinner tomorrow?” You squeaked, finding yourself on unfamiliar ground, you were nervous to ask him for the first time since you’ve known him -- not because you thought he would be mad at you for speaking up but because you feared the answer would be no.  

“I can meet you at your place after you get off.” 

Bucky stopped halfway down the hallway, hands stuffed deep in the pockets of his dress pants. He looked up at the crack in the ceiling as if he was asking the Gods for something or waiting for some mysterious answer to fall through the crevice. He never turned back around to look at you, but he did turn his head to the side so you could catch a glimpse of the darkened blue now shading his eyes. His reply cut deeper than his refusal to face you.

“I don't know. It’s going to be a hectic day. I may not have time for dinner. I’ll give you a call tomorrow if I have time, okay?”

“Yeah,” you whispered feebly. “Okay.” 

You watched as Bucky made his way down the stairs because the elevator in your building was out again. He never looked back. You shut the door once you could no longer see him and dropped your two hundred dollar shoes on the floor by the door. The cold wood of the door hitting your back made you shiver as you slid down to the floor, ruining your dress, you were sure. Not that you cared about the damn gown or the stupid shoes. If you had recognized what tonight was, you would have relished in his touch, taken more kisses than given, and begged for sweeter whispers. 

You hadn’t realized this was his goodbye. If you had known, you would have loved him a little harder, not to change his mind, but to give you one more sweet memory to live in. 

The memories you had would have to do because it seemed as though your number was up. Bucky just didn’t know how to tell you. 

[sunlightdances]

Happy Mistake (College!Bucky x Reader Oneshot)

Pairing: College!Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader Request from @jbbuckybarnes​: Being assigned roommates with modern!Bucky. He's a giant and looks like he's a bully, but he's actually so shy and soft. Author’s Note: *It’s been 84 years.gif* So sorry this took so long! Note: There’s note writing in this fic - italics are the Reader, and bold are from Bucky. PS - I listened to the playlist “Relaxing Classical Strings” on Spotify whilst writing and I highly recommend it. Disclaimer: I don’t own Bucky Barnes, Marvel, or any related characters from the MCU. Please don’t repost my work on any other sites (including collections or hosting sites) without my permission! Reblogs are gold. I’d love to hear from you if you like this!

You’re sweating a little as you unpack your last box, wondering why colleges always pick the absolute hottest day of the year to have everyone move in.

You step back and admire your work - your bookshelf is organized and you’ve got one of your favorite scented candles burning on your nightstand. You can already picture yourself studying here, and staying up too late drinking homemade cocktails with your roommate.

Loud voices from the living room draw your attention, and you feel those nervous butterflies - you hope you get along with your roommate for this year. Last year was definitely an adventure, and not in a good way. You’re just praying this person is nice and considerate.

Heading out to the common area you stop in your tracks, seeing three guys lugging in boxes. They smile at you a little curiously, but don’t say much. You look around them for your roommate, but you have no idea what they look like. You’re a little embarrassed to admit that you can’t remember what their name is either - you lost that handy piece of information almost immediately after it was mailed to your parents’ house over the summer.

“Hi,” One of the guys says, holding out his hand. He’s tall, well built, with dark hair that looks like he spent an hour coiffing it just right. His eyes are the most distracting thing about him. “I’m James, but everyone calls me Bucky.”

You smile and tell him your name. “I’m waiting for my roommate - are you helping her move in?”

His smile fades. “Are you kidding?”

You feel your face get hot. “... No?”

He stares at you so intensely you can practically feel it. “Where’s your friend? Are you helping him?”

“Holy shit, dude.” His friend - large, blonde, and a smile out of a magazine - says, laughing.

James sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “We have to go to the RA. I think they made a mistake.”

You frown. “What are you talking about? How would you even know? You’re not--”

“Your roommate? It’s me.” He digs in his pocket for a letter from the University, handing it to you. Right there, in bold letters, it reads James Barnes, Easton Hall, 305.

Your stomach sinks when you realize what happened. “Oh. Right -- I don’t know how this could have happened.”

He groans, turning to his friend. “Remember when you said moving in for a second year would be easy? You’re a jinx.”

You fold your arms over your stomach, trying to stave off the urge to cry. It’s not your fault or his fault, but you just wished this wasn’t happening. You just wanted an easy year for once.

“Hey,” James’ friend says, looking at you with so much concern you almost believe you’ve known him longer than 5 minutes. “It’s going to be fine.” He holds out his hand. “I’m Steve, by the way.”

“God. Stop flirting.” James complains, elbowing Steve.

Steve looks annoyed, “Shut up. Let’s go fix this before one or both of you are homeless.”

The RA was almost zero help. They gave you plenty of sympathetic looks, but otherwise had no idea what to do to fix your situation.

Back in the dorm, you sit helplessly on the end of your bed, trying to ignore James on the phone in the common area.

You look up when he comes into the room, knocking lightly on the door frame. “Hey.”

“Hey.” You reply, wondering if you look as pathetic as you feel. Your insides are a twisted up ball of anxiety.

“The admissions office was no help. They said they’d have to sort it out and with everyone moving in, they might not have a free room for either of us for a few days.”

You nod, and he tilts his head slightly to one side. “Hey, this isn’t your fault.”

You huff. “I know, I just-- I wanted this year to be better than last year and it’s already off to a terrible start.”

His eyes are sparkling a little as he pretends to be offended. “Most girls would be excited at the prospect of sharing a dorm with me, sweetheart.”

You roll your eyes. “I guess you better get unpacked. Who knows when or if they’ll ever get back to you.”

He winks so you know he was joking before. “You can call me Bucky,” he says offhandedly. “All my friends do.”

.

.

.

That was three months ago, and you’re still living with Bucky Barnes.

You’re making it work, but it’s still an awkward conversation every time you have friends over. You still haven’t told your parents.

You’re an adult, but you’re still sure your Dad would flip knowing you’re living with a very eligible bachelor. Very eligible, as you’ve learned.

You’ve never met someone who goes on as many dates as Bucky does. Some of them you’re positive are just friends, and he invites you out with them sometimes, but it still feels weird. Most of the time you stay in, opting to study instead of third wheeling it with Bucky.

You’ve taken to leaving each other notes around the dorm when the other one is out - the only way you can think to get a message across sometimes.

All out of milk, stop at the store on your way home?

You leave that message taped to the fridge in the morning when you leave before him, and when you get home in the afternoon, there’s a new note in its place.

Forgot the milk, but got chocolate chip cookies. Priorities? Then, scrawled smaller, (sorry. Will buy in the morning)

You roll your eyes, but eat two of the cookies while you’re doing your homework later that night after dinner.

The next morning, you hear the door a few times and are just about ready to open your bedroom door and throw a fit when you hear Bucky shush someone.

“Dude, can you please speak at a normal volume for someone at six in the morning? She’s asleep--”

“Sorry, I’m a morning person.” You recognize Steve’s voice and roll your eyes, rolling back over and hoping for a few more hours of sleep before your first class.

Meanwhile, Bucky follows Steve out of the dorm, trying to keep his steps light and quiet as he shuts the door behind them.

Steve chuckles, and Bucky glares. Pretty standard for this pair of friends.

“What?”

“Nothing. You’re just so worried about her. It’s cute.” He ducks away from Bucky’s punch.

“Shut up.”

“Really, dude. Don’t think I missed the way you looked at her on move-in day. When are you going to do something about it?”

Bucky runs a hand through his hair, “It’s a bad idea.” Steve scoffs, and Bucky continues, “Seriously. We’re roommates. If something happened and it didn’t work out--”

“How do you know it won’t work out?”

“Just drop it, okay?”

Steve shakes his head, but doesn’t push it any further. Bucky swallows his feelings down, down, down. He can at least admit to himself that Steve’s right about one thing: when he first met you and thought you were his roommate’s friend or sister or something, he was ready to lay on the charm.

You’re beautiful, and funny, and there’s something about you that sticks with him like glue. He can’t shake the feeling, and he really doesn’t want to.

But he’s afraid, too. Because what if it does ruin everything? If he’s honest, you’re the best roommate he’s ever had. And not just because the dynamic between you two is good, even though that’s definitely part of it. But you’re courteous, and you do small things like set the coffee maker up the night before so there’s hot coffee on mornings when he gets up earlier than you do.

You leave him a reminder on the kitchen counter not to forget his notebook, the one with the torn cover that he always loses. You check on him if he’s staying up too late and you make sure to buy the ice cream he likes when it’s your turn to do the shopping.

It’s like you actually care about him beyond just being his roommate, and he’s never felt that kind of connection with anyone before.

At that, he has to keep himself from stopping dead in his tracks as he walks with Steve.

Oh.

Oh.

Oh, shit.

.

.

.

Bucky comes home while you’re tugging on a sweater, getting ready to leave for your first class. You lean out of the door, smiling, but he heads straight for the shower and shuts the bathroom door.

You frown; it’s unlike him to ignore you completely.

You figure he’s tired after his run with Steve, but can’t get rid of the niggling worry in the back of your mind that something’s wrong.

The day drags on, and you find yourself nearly falling asleep during your last class - your mind elsewhere and attention lacking. Towards the end of class, you text Bucky, asking him if he’s going to be home for dinner.

No response.

Not unusual, but to your anxiety brain? You immediately start thinking the worst. You’re replaying every conversation from the last week, trying to remember if you’ve done anything that could have possibly made him upset.

When you get home, his bedroom door is shut, but the light is on. You try to go about business as usual, writing him a note that there’s dinner in the fridge and sliding it under the door when he still doesn’t come out, even after an hour of meal prepping.

Taking the hint, you take your own meal into your bedroom and shut the door.

After an hour or so, you try not to feel hurt when you hear his door opening, and then the sound of the front door. No matter how hard you try not to take it personally, you can’t help it when your stomach sinks.

He doesn’t come back that night.

Or the next two.

By day three, you’ve moved on from hurt and have settled on anger.

There are no more notes, no anything to indicate that he’s been in the dorm at all and has just missed you. There’s nothing.

This goes on for a few more days before you’re sitting on the couch, listening to a key being put in the lock. Your heart starts to race, and you sort of hate yourself for leaning forward, waiting for him to step into view.

It’s not Bucky.

Steve looks sheepish, even a little upset as he gives you a wave, shoving the keys in his pocket. “Hey,” he says quietly. “I’m uh-- Bucky asked me to get a few things.”

You don’t even know what to say. This feels like a break up, except you and Bucky have never been together, and you have no idea why he’s not sleeping here, or why he’s not talking to you.

Your throat starts to tighten as you fight off the threat of tears.

And it’s worse because Steve looks embarrassed, and he looks sorry for you and he’s so nice, and you hate it. You don’t want him to pity you.

You just watch helplessly as he goes into Bucky’s room, the sound of drawers opening and closing the only thing you hear for a few minutes before he comes back, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Look, I-- I told him he should talk to you. I don’t really know what happened--”

“Nothing happened.” You say, frustrated. “I just came home one day and he ignored me and he’s been ignoring me ever since.”

Steve’s jaw ticks. “What day was that?”

You shake your head. “I don’t know. A few days ago. When you and he went for a run early in the morning.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “I’m sorry. I think-- I need to go talk to him. Hang in there, okay?” He ruffles your hair as he leaves, and you realize he’s left Bucky’s bag behind.

.

.

.

Bucky is staring at his phone when Steve comes back, slamming the door behind him. “Christ,” Bucky mutters. “What’s your problem?”

“You’re my problem.”

Bucky frowns, looking up to see his best friend looking pissed.

“I just went to your dorm. Your roommate was there.”

Bucky feels the familiar feeling of guilt and self loathing come over him, but doesn’t know what to say, so he lets Steve continue with his tirade.

“She had no idea you were here. She had no idea why you were gone, and she had no idea what she did wrong.” Steve puts his hands on his hips. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You made it seem like you guys had a fight or something! And then she said you’ve been ignoring her ever since our conversation the other day. If you’re really pushing her away because I was giving you a hard time--”

“That’s not what’s happening.”

“Then why the hell are you sleeping on my couch?” Steve asks exasperated. “It’s not like I don’t like having you here, but come on, dude.”

Bucky swallows heavily, trying to get his bearings. “You were right, okay?” He says it quietly. “I’m-- getting attached.”

Steve watches him carefully. “I think you need to be telling her this, not me.”

Bucky rubs his face. “I know.”

Steve smiles slyly. “I forgot your clothes. Looks like you need to go home.”

.

.

.

Bucky feels like an idiot.

He’s knocking on the door to his own dorm because he was in such a rush to leave Steve’s, he forgot his key.

And now he’s waiting for you to open the door, half sure that you’re going to slap him across the face when you see him.

The door opens, and he’s struck by the sight of you. You look sad. But you’re beautiful, and he has no idea how he thought he was ever going to be able to live with you, see you every day, and not fall head over heels for you.

“Bucky.” You sound surprised.

“Um-- I forgot my key.”

“Oh, sure. Uh-- come in.”

He follows you inside, and takes a deep breath. “I think we need to talk.”

You look apprehensive, and he hates himself for doing this to you. You sit down on the couch and he does the same thing, mirroring you.

“I owe you an apology. I didn’t -- I shouldn’t have just left. Or ignored your texts. I’m sorry.”

You shrug, “It’s not like-- you don’t owe me--”

“Yes, I do.” Bucky is adamant. “Look - when we first met, I was really unsure how we were going to get through this. Obviously we weren’t meant to be living together. But now I can’t imagine it any other way.”

You laugh, though it still sounds a little sad. “I thought you were this big, scary guy.” You look down at your lap, wringing your hands. “I was really wrong about you.”

Bucky wants nothing more than to wrap you up in his arms and make up for every sad feeling you’ve had over the last few days.

“I’m sorry. I never should have ignored you. I was-- I was kind of panicking.”

You tilt your head. Bucky thinks it’s the cutest thing he’s ever seen. “Why would you be panicking?”

He decides to just bite the bullet. “I think I have feelings for you.” At your quick inhale, he shakes his head, “No, I know I have feelings for you. You just-- crept up on me. And I freaked out, because Steve kept getting on my case about it, and--”

His rambling is stopped when you grab his arm, tugging him towards you before throwing your arms around his neck in a tight hug. Bucky freezes at first, but soon melts into you, sighing at your touch and burying his face in your neck.

“I missed you,” you whisper, and Bucky feels his knees go weak. How he ever thought you weren’t going to have him wrapped around your finger, he has no idea.

“I missed you too. I’m sorry.”

.

.

.

6 months later

“Buck?”

“I’m coming--”

“We’re going to be late…”

“We’re not going to be late. We’re going to be early, because you think early is on time.” He comes out of the bedroom, pulling his leather jacket on. He grins at you, voice softening. “Look at you.”

You feel your face heat. “Stop it,”

“What? I can’t compliment my girl?”

“If we’re late again, Steve is going to roast you. And if he doesn’t, Peggy will.”

Bucky grabs your hand, rolling his eyes. “You worry too much. Come on.” As you’re walking, he’s muttering under his breath about double dates, but you can tell he’s happy to go out - the both of you have been so swamped with school, you’ve been shut up in your dorm for days.

The day after your talk with Bucky, you slowly but surely began working your way towards a relationship. It wasn’t hard - you were already close friends, and without the fear of thinking either of you were going to be rejected, it was easy to take the next step.

Now, as you walk through the building hand in hand, you’re so grateful that someone in the housing department screwed up.

From the spark in Bucky’s eye as he winks at you, you think he is too.

[themusicplayedherlife]

Unrequited (Part 5)

pairing: bucky barnes x reader characters: bucky barnes, reader, steve rogers, natasha romanoff, tony stark, pietro maximoff, crystal amaquelin, clint barton, sam wilson, sharon carter,  word count: 7k+ warnings: curse words, flirty bucky, flirty tony, angst, sad friends summary: things are changing and its startng to get hard to keep up a/n: hi, welcome to the slowest update and slowest burn story ever, but its here now--and let me tell you, this chapter is NOT how i planned... still like the outcome and really, it just means that the next ch is going to be just as long (im also looking for someone to beta future chapters ;o; so if youre interested, lemme know)

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“Natasha?” you call out, entering the eerily quiet apartment. The lights are off, the television quiet and dark, everything you used for breakfast is still in the sink, none of it put away—she hates seeing a full sink, but hates washing dishes in the morning even more, preferring to do them when she gets home when it’s her turn.

You call out for her again, your footsteps echoing as you make your way to her bedroom. Knocking, you wait for a beat before opening the door, and just like the rest of your shared home, her room is dark—even the neon lights she likes leaving on occasionally are turned off. 

Where could she be?

There’s a note on the island counter that has you frowning—Out for the day. It reads in Natasha’s cursive writing. I’ll be home for dinner.

You don’t share any classes with Natasha, today. In fact, you don’t have any classes Tuesdays, something you’re grateful for because having classes everyday last year really stressed you out, and while you’re still stressed having three classes on three days of the week, you have more days to relax and study if need be. 

Your free days also give you the chance to spend time with Natasha, something you both take seriously. Afterall, you made a promise to one another senior year of highschool that you’d always carve out a little bit of time for each other and that you’d always tell one another what was on your mind, never letting it fester.

It feels… weird knowing something is wrong and not knowing what it could be. But you just have to give her space and wait for her to tell you on her own, just as she gives you space when you need it.

Doesn’t mean you like it, though.

With a loud sigh, you leave your apartment.

You shoot him a quick text to let him know you’re here, and he replies by giving you the code for the building and his floor and apartment number. 

Seriously, Bucky? Why is he making you go up?

Grumbling, you take the elevator to the fourth floor and knock on his door, ready to rip him a new one for having you meet at his place rather than somewhere else when it opens to reveal… not Bucky?

Naked torso and bright blue eyes greet you, and widen in surprise as a small squeak escapes your lips. You try to ignore the heat clawing its way up your neck and to your face, desperately hoping he wouldn’t notice.

He says your name breathlessly and you return the gesture with another squeal, head lightheaded and you’re pretty sure it’s not healthy to have all your blood rush to your face like this.

“Steve!” You avert your eyes and focus on the wooden door and the gold numbers 404 instead of his pretty, hairless chest. But it’s kind of hard to keep your focus on something else when your eyes keep wanting to move his way! “Bucky told me to meet him here?”

As if he was waiting for his name, his head pops over Steve’s shoulder, a small smirk on his face—has it always been this punchable? Because your fingers are itching to clock him and wipe that smug look off of his face—that’s becoming a thing isn’t it?

“You’re finally here!” He pushes Steve aside and opens the door wide for you, ignoring the protests of his best friend. He latches onto your wrist, not allowing you a chance to look over the open spaced apartment and pulls you along with him towards the elevator. “I’m taking the car! And put a shirt on!”

You chance a glance over your shoulder to find Steve staring after you both with raised eyebrows and slightly parted lips. Fuck.

“What the hell, Bucky?” you ask as soon as you’re in the privacy of the elevator. 

“You’re welcome,” he says, pressing the button for B—basement you’re assuming.

“You’re welcome?” You repeat incredulously. “For what?”

“What do you mean for what? You got to see a shirtless Steve thanks to me!”

He has a point, the little voice in your head says, but you refuse to listen. Pursing your lips, you turn your eyes away to stare at the blinking numbers over the sliding doors. “I’m not thanking you for that.”

He pouts and it’s so uncharastically Bucky, or at least it's uncharacteristic for the Bucky you thought you knew, that it throws you off guard for a moment. You clear your throat and try to recover. “Come on! I did good! You saw a shirtless, Steve! What are the odds of that happening?”

“Literally none.” He grins at your deadpan words. “Still don’t appreciate it, Bucky! That was embarrassing, for him and me.”

He sighs, slouching back into the elevator wall like a little kid having been scolded for stealing a piece of chocolate. “Okay, I get it. I get it, no more tricking you into seeing a shirtless Steve.”

You resist the urge to sigh heavily at his words. “I hate you.”

He grins toothily.

You watch him as he smiles at the poor girl behind the register ringing him up for a pair of sunglasses. She ducks her head shyly, curling a lock of her hair behind her ear as does her best to quell the blushing on her cheek. 

He had told you to keep an eye on them, watch him as he tries to win over the cashier with his charm, but from where you’re standing? You’re not seeing shit.

He thanks her with another smile, taking his card that she hands back to him before making his way to you. 

You quickly look away when her eyes begin to drift from him to you.

“Did you see?” he asks as he settles into step with you to lead you to another store.

You nod and cock an eyebrow. “What exactly was I supposed to learn from that?”

He makes a face—nose scrunched and eyebrows furrowed. “How easy it is to flirt?”

“I saw none of that,” you deadpan.

He sighs deeply as if completely disappointed in your lack of attention and you have to resist the urge to smack him and roll your eyes. “Did you not see how I—you know what. Never mind.” Before you can even question him, he continues on: “We’re not just here to teach you how to flirt, we’re also here because you need an outfit for the party. Two birds,” two fingers lift into the air and then one finger goes down, “one stone.”

You do a double take, blinking slowly and letting his words process. “I need an—no, I don’t!”

“Oh, yeah?” He raises an eyebrow as he opens the door. “What were you thinking about wearing, then?”

“I don’t know?” You reply indignantly. What exactly is he getting at? “Some jeans and a shirt? You know, like casual clothes.”

When you don’t make a move to enter, he grabs your arm and pulls you along with an eye roll. “That’d be fine for any other party, but this is a Stark party. People dress up to impress, and those that don’t, stick out like a sore thumb.”

Great.

“Come on, sourpuss.”

That’s rich coming from him.

But then again, he hasn’t been much of a sourpuss with you anymore has he? 

“What about this?” he asks, amusement laced in his words as he grins stupidly at you. In his hands is a short and skimpy dress that you would never wear out of fear of what you might accidentally end up flaunting.

A glare is all he gets as a response and he laughs loudly. “I’m joking!”

You miss sourpuss Bucky.

He has you searching the floor for something—anything, he deems acceptable for Stark’s party, but you honestly don’t understand why you can’t just wear casual clothes. And when you voice it, he keeps emphasizing the whole “sticking out like a sore thumb” bit. As if he knew you liked blending with the crowd rather than stand out. You relent, allowing him to help you pick something out, too, but you still don’t like the idea of dressing up for a College party.

A blue romper is suddenly shoved in your line of vision and you took a step back to follow the arm attached to the shimmery romper. “Pretty, right?”

You wrinkle your nose involuntarily. It is a pretty romper (better than the first one), with a low open back and a sweetheart neckline. You’d wear it, but it looks more suitable for clubbing than a college party.

“I think it’ll look good on you!”

You reluctantly grab it from his thrusting hand. “Isn’t it too much?” You check the tag. “Besides, not my size.”

“It’s perfect for Tony’s party,” he muses as he ushers you towards the rack where he found the romper, encouraging you to find your correct size. “And it’s actually pretty tame compared to what you’ll see others wearing.”

“You know, you’ve been really making me dread going to this party,” you grumble, pulling out a romper that’s in your size. “You keep making it sound like it’s the event of the year.”

He nudges you towards the changing rooms. “It might as well be. A lot of people look forward to his parties, use it as a chance to completely unwind without any rules binding them to the usual frat party rules.”

Which would make sense as to why Natasha is looking forward to it, especially when she seems to be stressed from outside factors.

“That still doesn’t make me feel better.”

He rolls his eyes. “Stop being a baby.”

The dressing room attendant allows you both in with a smile, pointing to a stall you may use, and you both thank her.

The music is a little louder in the dressing room area than it was on the floor, Dua Lipa’s New Rules blasting loudly, enough to make you drum your finger against the hanger.

“Besides,” he starts from the other side of the door. Through the crack, you can see him with his back turned towards you and waiting. “Going to this party will be your chance to open flirty dialogue with Steve, show him you’re actually interested in him.”

You take your time undressing. “None of what I’ve seen so far will help, Bucky. Smiling and touching someone isn’t flirting.”

“It will!” he assures you over the music. “It’s part of the basics on how to flirt.”

“Okay? But what else?” You were really hoping for more. He made teaching you how to flirt seem like such a big deal the other day. 

He doesn’t answer you.

“Bucky?” When he doesn’t answer again, you quickly scramble to put on the romper, not bothering to check yourself in the mirror. You call his name again. No answer. Again. “Are you—“ You open the door to your dressing room and to your surprise, Bucky is still standing outside of your dressing room, closer to the one next to yours. “Why weren’t you answering?”

He leans against the door with his shoulder, hands in his pockets and stormy eyes meet yours when you poke your head out. “Well? Aren’t you gonna show me?” Your forehead creases as your eyebrows curve inward. He motions to the side with his head as if asking you to step out. 

With a reluctant step, you come out of hiding, showing him the outfit with a ducked head.

His eyes sweep over you and his hands come out of his pockets, a lopsided grin appearing on his lips. “Wow—you look—you look great, doll.” 

Doll? You don’t question it even though you’re curious about the sudden pet name, besides, you’re a little flustered at the genuinity in his voice “You think so?”

“It’s gonna be hard for anyone to look away from you,” he says, eyes twinkling with some kind of emotion that you can’t read. Mischief, maybe?

You pause, the heat that had been gathering in your cheeks suddenly cools as the hair on your arms stand awkwardly. You can’t help the small shiver that runs down your spine, or the small noise of disgruntlement that escapes your lips. What was wrong with him? “What are you doing?”

“What do you mean?” he asks, reaching for a lock of your hair and you jerked away. 

Your eyes narrow as you watch the smile on his face grow, but soon they widen as the realization hit you. “Are you—are you trying to flirt with me?”

His smile drops and it’s your turn for your smile to grow, a laugh escaping your lips. His lips form a pout and he groans. “Why are you laughing? This isn’t funny. I’m teaching you how to flirt!”

“By giving me chills?”

He leans away from you, in shock that you’d think he’d ever do such a thing! “I did not give you chills!”

“You did!” you assert as you lift your arm to show him the bumps and awkwardly standing arm hair.

“There’s no way I caused that!”

You shove your arm further into his direction. “You totally did!”

He stares at you unblinkingly, your words processing in his head and taking in your form, until finally, he groans loudly, gaining the attention of the attendant. “But my flirting has never failed!”

You laugh, stepping away from him. “Well, your mom did say you seem to be under a dry spell.”

“Hey!” He sputters. “Just get changed!”

You shake your head with a smile and head back into the changing room to change out of the romper and back into your regular clothes.

After paying for the romper and walking around aimlessly, you two find yourself at the food court sitting across from one another with ice creams in hand. 

“Since—apparently—showing you wasn't the best way to reach you how to flirt, telling you might be,” he says after a spoonful of his strawberry cheesecake ice cream. “Flirting isn’t rocket science, doll. Everyone can do it.”

“Not everyone.”

He rolls his eyes. “You’re not giving yourself enough credit. Flirting is all about conversation and being confident while doing it,” he says, straightening his back. “A lot of people have this… idea, that you have to be coy and charming to flirt, but you don’t have to be. Sometimes it’s all about compliments, other times it’s about subtle touching, or most of the time—both.”

You close your lips around your spoon, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Try it on me.”

Your spoon almost drops from your hands at his words. “What?”

“Try flirting with me.”

“Bucky—“

“You’ve seen me flirt twice—“

“I learned nothing from either time.” 

He blatantly ignores you and you can’t help but laugh under your breath. “So, you have an idea of what you should do when flirting with someone.”

“I don’t know—“

“Just compliment me, talk to me, reach for my hand or something.” He smiles. “You’ve got this.”

You take a deep breath and finally relent. Placing your spoon back into the cup with your melting ice cream, your eyes meet his expectant gaze.

Sweeping over his eager gaze, your eyes fall on the red beaded bracelet wrapped around his wrist. It’s homemade, a little worn out by the look of the scratches on some of the beads. But it’s cute, reminds you of something you would’ve made when you were in middle school for Natasha, or something your younger brother would’ve made for you. Did one of his sisters make it for him? Shyly, and nervously, you reach for the beaded bracelet, gently running your index finger over the small beads. 

“I like your bracelet.”

“Yeah?” He asks with a wide grin, stormy eyes watching you carefully and you can’t help the heat licking at your skin—god, this is embarrassing!

“Yeah, it’s cute… looks good on you,” you mutter, hooking a finger under the bracelet and flashing your eyes up at him from under your lashes, still feeling hot and embarrassed, and if you cry, holy shit you’re going to die. You can’t even read Bucky’s expression, there’s a smile on his face but his eyes are pretty neutral. Fuck. What if you’re messing up? What if you’re only making a fool out of yourself? “No!” You gasp softly, extracting your finger from his bracelet and covering your face with both hands. “No, I can’t do it!”

“Come on,” he drawls and gently takes hold of your wrists to coax your hands away from your face. “You were doing great!”

You let him pull down your hands and purse your lips, not completely believing him, but he sounds genuine enough. “Was I really?” 

“Yes, you were!” he says, patting your hands in his. “You complimented something on me and me, found an excuse to touch me and kept eye contact for most of it! That’s pretty fucking amazing.”

You slip your hands from his to cup your jaw and groan. “I wish I could believe you.”

“All you really had to do was ask questions, prolong the conversation, make me think you’re interested in knowing more about me,” he advises softly. “If you do something similar like this to Steve? He’ll be putty in your hands.”

Giddiness bubbles in your stomach as you think of Steve flirting back, but… “But what if I get too nervous? Or fail?”

“Then you breathe, remind yourself you’re having a conversation to get to know him outside of what you already do know.” He waits for a beat, eyes searching your face for a moment and sighs. “Some people like to lay it on thick with the charm because that’s what they’re good at. You? You’re just… you. Doe-eyed, a little awkward, more than a little blunt sometimes. So use that to your advantage.”

You don’t fully believe him, but he sounds so sure of himself that you can’t help but agree to try it. “All right. Okay, I’ll do my best.” 

“That’s all you need.” He grins and tilts his head towards one of the many entrances of the mall. “Want to head home?”

You look down at the ice cream pooling in your cup and decide to throw it out along with Bucky’s empty cup. “Mind if I check out the Disney store before we go?”

He remains seated, thanking you as you take his trash with yours. “Was afraid you wouldn’t ask.”

Throwing the two cups, you look at Bucky over your shoulder, ignoring the family of four that cuts between you to occupy a table. “You like Disney?”

He scoffs, offended that you even thought of asking such a heinous question. “Of course, I do.”

You shrug, laughing under your breath as you wipe the imaginary dust from your hands. “Most guys hide their affinity for Disney.”

Without thinking much of it, Bucky grabs the bag carrying your romper from the empty chair. When you make a grab for it, he tells you he’s got it and begins to lead you towards the Disney store. You follow after him, thankful. “I’m not most guys,” he quips back. “But… uh… does Natasha not like guys that like Disney?”

You blink, processing his shy inquiry and then throw your head back in laughter. 

“Hey! It’s a legit question, if she doesn’t—“

You fall into step with him, smothering your laughter with the back of your hand. “What? Are you going to hide your love for the mouse from her if she doesn’t?”

“Maybe?”

You roll your eyes. “I suggest you don’t, Bucky. Natasha… she likes authenticity.” He knows this! But he’s really gung-ho on changing himself for her, isn’t he?

“It’s not like I’m going to lie about it! I’ll just be… omitting the truth.”

“That is lying,” you say with a bit of whine and drawl in your voice. “Lying by omission.”

 “Whatever gets her attention.” His lips turn down and his eyes sweep down at you with a semi glazed look before staring forward. “That’s the whole point of this, right? Getting their attention?”

You try to hide the wince and find that you can’t bring yourself to refute him.

Your eyes meet your own in your mirror’s reflection, and with a deep breath, you leave your bedroom.

Natasha is on her phone, fingers tapping away at the screen barely acknowledging you other than a, “Finally!”

“Sorry,” you start as you make a beeline to the fridge for water. “I’m just a little unsure of what I’m wearing.”

She looks up, twisting in her seat to take a look at you and she lets out a strange noise that sounds akin to excitement. “Where have you been hiding this little number?”

You purse your lips. “It’s okay?”

“Are you kidding me?” She stands and makes her way over to you, smirking wickedly, hand to her chest as she buckles her knees. “I am in love!”

You gently push her away and she cackles. “God, you’re so weird.”

“You love me!”

“Yeah, yeah!”

Pietro: bruh, i am in awe

Pietro: i shit you not, you’re going to be fucking blown away when you guys get here

You: His place that nice?

Pietro: what do you think?

Attached to the message is a picture of Pietro making a face at a large chocolate fountain in the middle of who knows where and you honestly can’t believe it. You really fucking can’t. Who fucking owns a chocolate fountain other than a fictional character?

“Are you seeing this?” you ask Natasha, who sits beside you in the moving taxi, staring incredulously at your phone screen as you receive another message from Pietro, but this time of him sticking a marshmallow into the fountain with a stick.

She hums. “Seeing what?”

“What Pietro just sent—group chat?”

“Oh,” she says. “No.”

Sighing, you put away your phone, ignoring the incoming text from Pietro most likely asking how far away you are. “Who do you keep texting?”

“Huh?” She looks up at you after a moment of silence. “Oh, a friend—hey, you don’t mind if I invited them to tag along, right?”

A friend? You try to keep yourself from frowning, keeping a more neutral, curious expression. “I don’t mind, but, who did you invite?” You’re pretty sure you know everyone she knows or at least know of the people she deems worthy enough to call friends—which aren’t many (and are literally the same people you call friends).

“He’s one of the guards at the center,” she says, returning her attention to her phone, a smile appearing on her lips as she types out another message. “I had trouble on the first day and he helped me.”

“Wait, you had trouble?” Why didn’t she tell you that? She had only mentioned that it went well, but the kids could be a bit too much if she wasn’t stern enough.

She waves her hand dismissively. “Yeah, got lost. Not a big deal.”

She got lost and made a friend on her first day and it’s no big deal? “Right.”

She raises her head to look at you once more, eyebrow cocked and ready to say or ask something, but the driver pulling up slowly and saying, “Here we are,” distracts you both, stealing your attention for a moment and making you both glance out the window.

“Wow,” is all you can manage to say as you stare up at the modern home—mansion, really—as you push open the car door to step out, Natasha right behind you. You knew Tony was rich, but this, this is crazy rich.

The chocolate fountain now makes sense.

You both thank your driver and the man nods, wishing you both a fun night before driving off.

“And I thought your parent’s home was big,” you tell Natasha.

She chuckles, clapping your back before beginning to lead you towards the main entrance and closer to the loud music playing indoors. “Pietro and Crystal are already here, right?”

“Yep. They might be by the chocolate fountain, wherever that is.”

“Cool, I’m going to look for my friend,” she says, pushing open the door and allowing the music to escape from the enclosed space—“Meet you there?”

She’s seriously not thinking of leaving you—oh my god, she is. She’s really leaving you!

Before you can even begin to protest, she’s become one with the sea of bodies occupying the open space and you can no longer see your friend among the masses.

Great. Now what?

You frown and when a person knocks into you by accident, giving you a hasty apology as they keep moving, you can’t help but sigh. Why did you even decide to come?

You pull out your phone and read the message Pietro sent you earlier, and reply telling him that you’ve arrived. In a matter of seconds, you receive a message from him saying he’s still by the chocolate fountain and to hurry the fuck up.

Well, at least you still have Pietro. 

Just as you’re about to put your phone away, it vibrates with a text notification, your text tone completely drowned out by the music.

James Bucky: How’s the party?

You: Just got here

James Bucky: Barely?

The music is loud around you as you push through the crowd, people not really caring if you bump into them, all of them in their own little world as the bass reverberates through their bones. 

You: Wasnt super keen on the romper.

You: Jumped around a lot of outfits

James Bucky: But I thought you looked great! 

James Bucky: You ARE wearing it, right?

You: yes, zazu gosh

James Bucky: wait

James Bucky: Zazu from the Lion King?

James Bucky: are you calling me an overbearing bird?

You: 🤷🏻‍♀️ 

You: if the shoe fits

James Bucky: listen, if I’m anyone from the movie, I’m Simba

You snort as you reply back: Sure you are

James Bucky: Rude!

James Bucky: Have you seen Steve, yet?

You: no. 

You: Looking for Pietro and his girlfriend first

James Bucky: All right

James Bucky: Guess I’ll let you go

James Bucky: just remember to relax! You’ve got this!

Yeah! You do got this!

Thanks, Bucky.

Your search for the fountain leads you outside to a small courtyard where it’s a little less crowded, but just as noisy with the music and talking. In the middle of it all is the glorious chocolate fountain and in front of it a long table of fruits and other assortments that could be dipped into the chocolate. 

“What do you think?” A voice suddenly says next to your ear and you can’t help but let out a surprised squeal as you jump around to face the culprit. “Cool right?”

“Tony! What the hell?”

He chuckles and looks you over, his eyes still obscured by his dark glasses. “You look good.” He sounds sincere enough, but you can’t help but raise your eyebrow in suspicion.

“Thanks?”

He grins. “You’re welcome.” He looks around you. “Came alone?”

“Ah, no, I came with Natasha, but she went searching for someone.”

“And you?” He asks, removing his eyewear and hooking it’s leg into the collar of his shirt. “You’re not searching for anyone?”

“I am…” you say, a little hesitant, unsure of what his question is meant to mean. “My friend Pietro.”

He tilts his head to the side. “You mean silver haired kid over there?”

You follow his line of vision, head twisting to look over your shoulder where Pietro and his girlfriend are sitting on a wooden bench, gorging on strawberries covered in chocolate. “Thanks.”

“Buckaroo didn’t come with you?” he asks, stopping you from making your way over to Pietro and Crystal.

“Uh, no. Said he didn’t feel like it.”

Tony snorts, he sounds a little bitter. “Of course, he did.”

Curious. “Did you want him to come?”

He presses his lips thinly, before smiling wickedly. “I’d like for someone else to come.”

“Seriously?”

He grins, head ducking and glasses slipping off the bridge of his nose, but he does nothing to stop them. “Sorry, bad joke.” He doesn’t sound sorry at all.

“Do you usually do that?”

He catches your gaze over the rim of his glasses. “What? Make bad jokes?” He shrugs. “Probably.”

“No,” you start slowly, pausing for a moment to search his eyes, study him as much as possible before he can grow offended by your next words, words that you probably wouldn’t say to a stranger and shouldn’t say to a stranger, but still do. “Do you usually deflect when someone goes into uncharted territory?”

He tenses, eyes narrowing and jaw clenching, it only lasts for a second, but you catch it. And that’s enough for you to know you’re right. He lets out a dramatic sigh and looks away from you, pushing his glasses back up. “Ah, and here I thought you’d be more fun than most of these people.”

You purse your lips, ready to retort, but before you can, a hand lands on your shoulder, pulling you away from Tony and to a muscular body—Pietro.

“Is he bothering you?” Pietro asks, eyes locked on to Tony, not even bothering to look down at you. It’s the big brother act.

“Pietro!” You scold him, pushing him away from you and  from confronting Tony. “It’s fine. We were just talking.”

“And now we’re not,” Tony announces, eyes moving from Pietro to you. “Have fun, gorgeous.”

“What was that about?” Pietro mutters, confused as you both stare after Tony. And you can’t help but watch as he joins a group, laughing and smiling with them for only a moment before moving on to the next one. Never staying in one place.

“I don’t know,” you admit, a small frown making a home on your features.

You can never truly tell what the hell is going on with Pietro and Crystal. One moment they’re both laughing and having the time of their life and the next they’re arguing about the little things—this time the little thing being, well, you.

You’ve always known that Crystal wasn’t and isn’t particularly fond of you and Natasha, sometimes seeing both of you as some kind of threat or rivals for Pietro’s love, but you and Natasha usually pay her no mind. This time, however, it’s a little hard to ignore them when she’s whining about the fact you’re third wheeling their date, forgetting the fact that you and Natasha had invited Pietro in the first place, and he had decided to bring his girlfriend along. 

Where’s Natasha when you need her?

Why did you decide to come anyway? Bucky wasn’t joking when he said a Stark party wasn’t a place for striking up conversation, yet somehow he encouraged you to come and said it would be the perfect opportunity to flirt with Steve. Who, by the way, you haven’t seen since you arrived! Granted, you haven’t moved from your spot in the courtyard, but you aren’t so sure going around specifically looking for Steve would be such a good idea. What if you do start dating Steve and you one day tell him that you frantically looked around for him at a Stark party, actively avoiding everyone just to be able to talk to him? He’d most likely freak and call you a freak, and you’d much rather avoid that.

“Then go,” you hear Pietro snap, pulling you from your rambling thoughts to look at him and Crystal, both of them practically in each other’s faces.

His blonde girlfriend with wide blue eyes falters, eyes drifting from him to you and back, and you watch as her bottom lip wobbles for dramatic effect before throwing her hands up in the air and pushing Pietro away from her. “Fine! I didn’t even want to come to this stupid party anyway!”

Pietro sighs heavily as she storms off.

“You sure letting her leave like that is a good idea?”

“Yeah,” he says through a grimace, falling back down onto the bench he and Crystal has been occupying. “It’s fine. We’ll work it out tomorrow. We always do.”

You have no doubt they’ll work it out, because he’s right, they always do. But you still can’t help but worry. How much more fighting and arguing can they take before they break? “Okay. Do you want me to get you a drink?”

He shakes his head and reaches for the red plastic cup by his feet. “I’m good, thank you.” He scoots over and pats the seat next to him. 

You flash him a small smile and drop yourself down next to him, taking the chocolate strawberry he offers you before pressing his own strawberry against yours and scarfing it down.

“What’s with the doom and gloom?” Natasha finally joins you, finding you and Pietro sitting on the wooden bench, gorging on chocolate covered fruit. “It’s a party!”

You and Pietro don’t bother reacting to her shimmy of the arms, you instead cock an eyebrow. “Did you find your friend?”

She nods, smiling, looking over her shoulder and making a come here motion with her hand—and who exactly she motions over isn’t who you were expecting.

Not only is it Steve, but it’s Steve. Handsome, blue eyes, pretty Steve, who flashes you a bright smile even after you’ve seen him half naked.

Your mouth falls open in surprise. Steve? Why would it be Steve? As far as you knew, Steve doesn’t work as a security guard. Not at campus, not at the accounting firm he’s interning, and definitely not at a recreational center! He would’ve mentioned it, right? You look at Natasha, but she’s not looking at you, and she’s not looking at Steve either, you note.

She’s looking at someone behind him, someone shorter with darker hair—dirtier, and darker blue eyes—“Clint?”

All eyes snap in your direction, but you pay them no mind, you’re completely transfixed by the man wearing a purple hoodie and acid wash jeans, who immediately recognizes you and smiles cheekily.

“You know each other?” Natasha asks and it's Clint who explains with a nod.

“She’s a regular at the museum, usually comes in during my shift.”

“Huh.” Natasha huffs out a breath. “Small world.”

Steve chuckles and that sound would usually cause your heart to flutter, but you’re currently very much in awe of the fact that Natasha has adopted Clint as her friend. “Guess that makes it easier with the introductions.”

“Uh, excuse you. I don’t know who he is. Hi, I’m Pietro. And you are?”

“Clint Barton, security guard extraordinaire.”

Natasha smiles in Clint’s direction and leans against him, surprisingly enough—which is putting it lightly. You’re more than surprised, you’re absolutely floored, Pietro is too because he turns to you with wide eyes and mouths “what the fuck?”

What the fuck indeed.

Natasha isn't the type to be so… hands on or touchy with strangers (well, then again, Clint isn’t exactly a stranger). It took months—half a year to be exact—for her to be comfortable with touching Pietro, and being touched by him. But here she is, having known Clint for a couple of weeks—BARELY—and is already using Clint as a resting post.

Yeah.

It’s official.

Bucky is screwed.

A Stark party is a sensitive overload, if you’re being honest. 

Here you are being rewarded with Steve looking mighty fine in a yellow button down and dark, regular jeans, but you’re somehow distracted by the way your best friend refuses to leave Clint’s side.  

She’s smiling, chuckling that soft, genuine chuckle of hers when he cracks a joke or tells a funny story. There’s a spark in her smile and eyes that you haven’t seen in such a long time—not since high school. 

You’re happy for her…. but…

This is going to hurt Bucky, isn’t it?

“Hey,” Steve’s warm voice reaches your ears and your body reacts without a minute to waste. Heat crawling up your neck as you practically rip your eyes from them to him.

“Steve, hey.”

“You look beautiful.” Your heart practically beats out of your chest, eyes widening at his sincere compliment and how he studies you with a warm gaze. It takes all of your energy to stay upright, even when the blood rushes to your head and your knees buckle.

He called you beautiful. Steve. Steve freaking Rogers!

Breathe and relax, doll. Flirting is simple conversation. Not an art. “Thank you.” Your voice is quiet, but still managing to be heard over the music if the tick of his lips is anything to go by. “You do too. Yellow is a good color on you.”

What? What kind of compliment is that?! Every color is a good color on Steve!

He chuckles, his eyes slipping down to the button down he’s wearing. “Thanks. This is actually Bucky’s. Told me I should wear it for tonight.” He fixes the collar of his shirt as the first button comes undone, and you can’t help but avert your gaze shyly. What the fuck is wrong with you? It’s just some skin, you dumbass! “You wouldn’t think so, but Bucky actually has an eye for picking out clothes,” he says fondly, proud of his best friend. “It’s one of his hidden talents.”

You return your gaze to him, but this time focus on his eyes, smiling when his own gaze meets yours. “I actually believe you. He helped pick out this romper for me.”

His eyes brows quirk upward. “Bucky did? Really?

“Uh, yeah, actually.” Did you say the wrong thing?

You almost grow worried when the silence between the two of you stretches for a moment longer until he smiles again, eyes softening. “I’m glad you’ve become Bucky’s friend.”

You’re not so sure you and Bucky ARE friends, especially not after he reiterated why you're both talking and helping eachother, but under Steve’s sincere gaze you can’t help the, “I’m glad too,” that slips from your lips. And you definitely don’t regret it when his smile widens.

“Ah, listen, I want to apologize about the other day,” he says, his cheeks red as he rubs the side of his neck and eyes drifting shyly off to the side. “I don’t usually open the door shirtless, but Bucky was hurrying me… and…”

Of course he was. God damn that Bucky! “No, no, it’s your home. You’re allowed to be comfortable. I’m sorry I was so awkward about it. I just--I have never seen that.” Steve’s eyes snap up in your direction and for a moment, you replay your words—have never seen that—what the hell is wrong with you? “I mean, I have. I definitely have seen a shirtless man before. Who hasn’t? I meant to say I have never seen you—you know what? I’m just going to shut up now.”

He blinks slowly and without warning he lets out a loud laugh that takes you off guard, but it fills your chest with warmth. You recognize this laugh; it’s his genuine laugh. The one that makes him throw his head back, hand clutching his chest, and laugh without any inhibitions. And you caused it. You.

You can’t help but chuckle along with him.

And when Steve finally calms down, he glances down at you with crescent eyes and a genuine smile. “You’re cute.”

Heat crawls to your neck and you can’t believe it’s possible to even get this hot and embarrassed. “Thank you?” you squeak.

This is good right? Steve across from you, drink in his hand and smiling down at you as if you’re the only people in the room. And you might as well be, because the music sounds so distant and Pietro’s laughter is muffled. 

This is your chance.

This is where you put a hand on his shoulder; lean into his space a little and flash him your doe eyes that Bucky mentioned. This is it! This is where you hint at your feelings, this is—

“Steve!”

Damn it, Sam! 

“Look who I found!”

The smile on his face drops and you can't help the way your body jerks when he mumbles the name, “Sharon,” so breathless.

You’re no longer the only two people in the room. The world spins and tilts, and it moves faster than you thought possible—all noise and music coming back to life and deafening you as Steve doesn’t spare you a glance to walk towards the beautiful blonde with kind brown eyes smiling at him.

You push through the crowd, needing to get away from whatever the fuck is going on inside. Steve barely even glanced at you after Sharon had appeared, which shouldn’t be surprising, really. His ex-girlfriend is beautiful and the two didn’t exactly break up on bad terms. They had decided that while she studied abroad at Cambridge for the year, it would be best for them to break up. 

So really, you should’ve known that the moment she would showed up, you wouldn’t have a chance.

Not like you had a chance before. But you had hoped with all of your heart that maybe you could have a chance.

You were wrong. Bucky was wrong.

The fresh, cool air hits you as soon as you’re out on the front porch, and you release an exhale.

“Tough night, gorgeous?”

Your eyes snap to Tony, who sits on one of the porch chairs, legs kicked up on the small rounded table, and a cigarette in his hands. “You could say that.”

Tony puts out the cigarette by smashing the tip into the ashtray by his feet.

“Why aren’t you inside playing host?”

A smirk lifts his lips. “Taking a break. Hosting is a lot of work.”

You snort. “I’m sure.”

“Why aren’t you inside?” You shrug and watch as he stands up and moves to the chair over, pointedly looking at the now empty one as if inviting you to sit with him. You do. “Saw you getting chummy with Steve earlier. Didn’t know you had it in you, gorgeous. Bucky and Steve?”

You freeze, eyes widening as you sputter. “What? Bucky and I are just friends and Steve… Steve… is just a friend too.”

He chuckles. “So not gaga over Buckaroo, but definitely deep in the feels for golden boy. Got it.”

“That’s not what I said.”

“Sure it isn’t.” He grins, but there’s no malice in his teasing and for some strange reason, you don’t mind it.

The music is muffled, even with the loud volume it’s set on. But you can make out Ariana Grande’s voice as she sings thank u, next.

“So, were you rejected by golden boy? Is that why you’re out here?”

“Rejected would imply I had a chance.”

“Why wouldn’t you have a chance?” he asks, genuinely curious.

“Sharon.”

“Ah, the ex girlfriend.” He tilts his head back against the headrest. “Is she back? I heard she was back. But you know how rumors are.” Is he alluding to himself? 

You watch him and he all does is lift his lips into a smirk that has you shaking your head. Best not to dwell on it. Turning away from him to pull out your phone, you notice you have messages from Bucky and Pietro, but you don’t read either of them, instead going into the Uber app to get a ride home. “Guess so.” 

He leans closer to you, peeking at your screen for a second before pulling back. “Ordering yourself a ride?”

You nod, watching as the screen changes when you confirm the addresses and the arrival time and map show up. In a couple of mins you’ll be on your way home. Thank god. “Yeah. I’m just—I’m just really tired.”

“Mind if I come with you?” he jokes, lopsided grin in his face.

You put your phone away once your ride is confirmed and find him no longer staring at you, but instead watching the empty streets, the occasional night drifter passing by. “For someone who likes throwing parties, you don’t seem to like being in yours.”

He chuckles. “Would you believe me if I told you I get tired?”

“Why throw them?”

He shrugs, but doesn’t answer and again, you don’t push him to either. You barely know him, and you have a feeling he’s told you more than he’s told anyone else in one seating. 

“Okay,” you murmur and his eyes flicker in your direction before nodding and returning his gaze to the streets.

The two of you remain that way until your uber comes to pick you up. He walks you to the car door and opens the door for you, wishing you a goodnight and waiting until you’re far enough to head back inside.

Tony is an enigma, isn’t he? Everyone thinks they have him figured out, but you’re not so sure Tony even knows who he is himself. 

Does Bucky?

You’re about ready to drop dead on your feet as you push open the front door and flick on the light to your apartment, your phone in hand as you mindlessly reading Pietro’s “where’d you go?” text. Honestly, you have half a mind to drop yourself on the sofa instead of your bed, even if your bedroom is only a few steps away from the sofa. 

Just as you’re about to close the door behind you and are about to click on your text message thread with Bucky, the creaking of wooden flooring meets your ears and your eyes whip up, finding an unfamiliar woman standing next to your dining table with a hesitant smile and wide, green eyes.

“Who the fuck are you?”

[honeypiehotchner]

Alone Together part three -- Bucky Barnes x Reader (College AU)

It’s been too long! This is all fluff. Pure, tooth-rotting, fluff. You’re welcome. Oh and obviously this is an AU so there’s no fighting in here like in the gif, but I added it because...his face. He’s so hot. That’s how he looks here, if y’all wanted another visual.

Oh, and one more thing! You’ve caught me. I’m too attached to this story to end it here. There will be a few more parts :)))

Summary: While Bucky battles with his feelings, you take a phone call from home that reminds you of reality. And after a few days of hiding, Bucky finally runs into you again.

Another day passes, and Bucky is nowhere to be found.

You feel a little bit like you’ve been thrown back a few centuries. You don’t have his phone number and all you do have is where he lives, but knocking on his door doesn’t seem appealing to you. Because the last thing you want to come across as is desperate. 

So, you settle for taking your daily walk alone. At least you can use the time to call your sister.

She answers on the second ring. “Y/N!”

Your smile is out of relief when you hear your sister’s voice, as bubbly and alive as ever, not a trace of tiredness anywhere. “Hey pumpkin. How are you doing?”

“I’m great,” she gushes. “I finished that show you told me about on Netflix. We’ll have to watch it all over together when you get back!”

“Okay,” you chuckle. “We can do that. We’ll have a marathon like we used to.”

“Please!” Your sister exclaims. “When can you come home?”

You sigh, kicking at a pinecone on the ground. “I don’t know.”

“Isn’t it just two weeks? So you could come home next week?”

“Well…” You trail away. You haven’t exactly told your mom or your sister that you ran into some company while staying on campus. They both also assumed you’d be here alone and the plan was, in fact, that you’d spend two or three weeks here in isolation, and then move back home. Because after three weeks of quarantining yourself, you should be okay to go back.

That was the plan. Before you ran into Bucky.

You hate yourself for even leaning toward staying here to be with Bucky, but he can’t go home at all. There are no flights for him and if you leave, then he’s here all by himself, except for Clint. You spent a few days believing you were alone, but even after those few days, you felt yourself slipping.

You don’t know Bucky that well, obviously, but based on what you do know, he seems like someone who would need some sort of physical social interaction before he goes insane. Despite the circumstances, you’ve at least been able to give that to him, all because you both happened to stay here.

But if you leave…

“Y/N?”

“Sorry, pumpkin, I’m here,” you shake your head, trying to regain your focus. “I’ll talk to mom about it, okay? And then I’ll see. I’ll definitely be coming home for summer break, though.”

“But that’s...months away!”

“I know, I know,” you pinch the bridge of your nose. Sometimes you forget that even though she acts extremely mature for her age, she’s still your little sister. She’s still the same girl who cried her eyes out when you moved away to college and who you had to Facetime with every night to keep her sane. She’s relied on you her whole life, as little siblings do, and the two of you are inseparably close. “I don’t want to bring anything home to you,” you add quietly, hoping that will make her understand.

And it does. After a moment, you hear her reply, “I know.”

You look around at the trees, thinking of something that could possibly cheer her up. “Hey, I found this other new show that you should watch.”

“What is it?”

“Well...I was thinking we could watch it together. Netflix party later tonight?”

She gasps, clearly excited, and all traces of sadness have gone. “Please?”

“Of course, pumpkin,” you smile. “I’ll call you around eight?”

“Okay!”

You laugh, glad to see her spirits lifted once again. “I’m gonna go so I can make some lunch. I’ll talk to you later?”

“Love you!” You can still hear her smile.

“I love you too,” you murmur, waiting for her to end the call. It’s a weird unspoken rule that she ends the call first. She always has.

You enter your dorm room once more, shoving your phone in your back pocket. You glance around the common room and see that it’s empty. Normally, this would be a rare sight. Now, though, it’s normal.

It still causes an unsettling feeling to rest in your stomach, though. You were hoping Bucky would’ve been sitting down here.

Your mind wanders as you climb the stairs, wondering if you did something wrong. All you did was tell him to keep his charming ways far, far away from you -- which you meant...at the time. And he has. But you didn’t think that would mean he would hide from you entirely. That was not what you meant at all.

+++

“When I said be yourself, I didn’t mean avoid her like the bubonic plague,” Steve laughs loudly. “If only I was there to see this. Playboy Bucky Barnes has no idea how to act.”

“Remind me why I call you about this stuff?” Bucky grumbles, stuffing his dirty clothes into his hamper, shutting the closet door loudly.

“Because I’m your best friend, and I don’t give you any crap.”

“It sounds like you’re giving me a lot of crap right now.”

“Because you’ve been hiding in your room like a petrified toddler!”

“No, I haven’t,” Bucky replies fiercely. “I’m giving her space.”

“Did she say she wanted space?”

“...not exactly.”

“Then what the hell are you doing, man?”

“I don’t know!” Bucky nearly yells, wishing Steve was on Facetime so he could glare at him. “I have no idea what I’m doing. I told you I’m not cut out for this.”

“For making friends? You’re being ridiculous.”

“This is...This is different.”

“You know you have to get to know someone, like you have to be their friend first before you date them. You know that, right?”

“Yes, but she already told me to not flirt with her.”

“Bucky. She doesn’t know you.”

“She knows plenty about me.”

“Listen, she might know of you because word gets around, and I’m sure she’s heard about you, but she doesn’t know you. Personally. Yourself. If you want to get through to this girl, you’re going to have to show her that. Or quit acting like a child and be strictly her friend if you don’t want to get involved. You’re the only two there. You might as well, at the very least, be friends.”

Bucky knows Steve is right. But it’s so different, trying to just be friends with you. He can’t describe it, because Steve is also right that you don’t know him. And Bucky doesn’t really know you, not really. Obviously jumping right to a relationship right now wouldn’t work. But Bucky can’t figure out how to navigate the stages before one. The friendship. His hands clam up, his guard goes up, he falls right back into his stupid flirty attitude.

He’s going to have to figure it out, though. He’ll never let himself live it down (Steve won’t either, to be fair) if he leaves here not even as your friend.

+++

As promised, you call your sister back around eight. You set up the Netflix party and venture down to the common room for a change of scenery. And if Bucky is going to keep hiding -- or whatever it is he’s doing -- then you’re at least going to go on as things used to be.

With a blanket around your shoulders and a freshly popped back of popcorn sitting next to you, you start the show, smiling wide as your sister watches intently. This seems to be doing the trick in lifting her spirits and letting her forget about when you’ll come home. You set a reminder in your phone to call your mom tomorrow about it. 

You’re dreading it because you know you’ll have to tell her about Bucky or else she’ll ask why your three weeks have started over. But you know she’ll tease you about him because of the simple fact that he is an attractive boy that you’re more or less living with for the time being. It isn’t the same as sharing an apartment because the two of you are in a dormitory, but it might as well be the same with how frequently you two see each other.

Or...saw, you correct yourself. Because you haven’t exactly seen him in a few days.

You focus back on the show, not wanting to risk your sister noticing your momentary train of thought. She’s insanely perceptive, way too good for her age, and it has gotten you in a few tricky situations.

Halfway through the first episode, you think you hear footsteps on the stairwell. But it is around the time that Clint does his rounds, so you think nothing of it.

A few seconds later, Bucky comes skidding to a stop in the doorway of the common room.

It takes you a few moments to notice he’s there, and in those few moments Bucky watches your facial expressions as your laptop screen lights up your eyes. He’s not sure what you’re watching, but with the way it’s making you smile, he’d give his arm to know what it is. Just so he could figure out how to make you smile like that.

When you do look up, you freeze, not expecting Bucky to be there, and moreover, not expecting to catch him already looking at you. 

Your sister notices you’re looking away and leans closer to the screen. “What is it?”

You lightly tap the spacebar and pause the show, flashing her a smile. “Uh...nothing. A friend just walked in.”

“Oh,” she replies. “Who is it?”

Well. No escaping now. “His name is Bucky,” you say softly, waving him over.

Bucky’s feet move on their own accord as he walks over, smoothly sliding down on the spot next to you on the couch. You turn your laptop screen to the side, letting your sister see him. He waves with a smile.

“Hi there.”

“Hi Bucky,” your sister replies, not phased at all, which surprises you. “Are you gonna watch the show with us?”

“Uh…” Bucky stammers, looking to you to see if you even want him here, but you surprise him as you nod, mouthing, please. “Okay, yeah. What are we watching?”

Your sister launches into an epic retelling of the first half of the episode (which Bucky has already seen, but he listens as if she’s telling him about her plans to cure cancer). Once she’s finished, you press play, sharing a look with Bucky as things settle back down.

Two episodes go by before either of you notice that you’ve scooted closer. You blame it on the fact that you’re watching Netflix on your laptop, but you don’t shy away when Bucky shifts, his shoulder brushing against yours.

You glance down and notice goosebumps on his arms. Instead of saying something aloud -- because you know he’ll have something to say -- you silently lean forward and tug on the blanket, nudging Bucky’s arm. He has no idea what you’re doing until you give him a look that essentially tells him he better take the blanket. He does without argument.

Another episode passes and your head is leaned on Bucky’s shoulder. You’re too focused on the show and not falling asleep that you don’t notice your sister’s small smile.

Before the next episode can start, your sister lets out what can only be described as a painfully fake yawn, stretching her arms over her head before announcing that she should get some sleep. It’s barely eleven at night, but you let her go, knowing you’ll hear all about this tomorrow when you call your mom.

You close your laptop and slide it off your lap, leaning your head back on Bucky’s shoulder. He hopes you can’t hear his heart beating as loud as it is. He feels like it might break one of his ribs any second now.

“Sorry about that,” you murmur. “She can get over excited sometimes.”

“I thought it was sweet,” Bucky replies. “That’s your little sister?”

“Yep,” you smile. “She really wants me to come home, so we compromised with this.”

Bucky ignores the tight feeling in his chest. “When are you going home?”

“I don’t know yet,” you answer truthfully, lifting your head from his shoulder. 

Bucky hides his look of disappointment as best he can.

“I’m gonna call my mom tomorrow,” you continue, pushing away the fleeting thought nagging at you for telling him any of this. “I just want to be sure it’s safe before I do.”

“I understand,” Bucky says quietly. He doesn’t want you to go -- or to even think about you leaving, but he knows it’s unrealistic to not think about it.

“What about you?” You ask, craning your neck to look at him. You could probably scoot away from him to make it easier, but you don’t want to. Your mind screams at you some more for that.

He shakes his head. “It’ll be months before I can. My family doesn’t want me to come back and get it. I’m safer here right now, and they want me to stay.” He pauses, shrugging half-heartedly. “So I guess I’m staying for a while.”

You frown. “I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head again. “It’s okay. I understand where they’re coming from. It’s like how you’re staying here -- for now -- for your sister. You want her to be safe, that’s all.”

“Yeah,” you nod. “It’s still tough, though. I miss her.”

“She misses you,” he replies. “I could tell.”

“She really does,” you agree. “We’ll probably watch Netflix every night together now.” You pause. “You can join us, you know. She seemed to like you.”

“Did she?”

“Believe it or not, she doesn’t normally let someone else in on our Netflix parties. You’re a good one, apparently.”

“Huh,” Bucky smiles, trying not to smile too big, but he fails. “If she’ll have me, then I’d love to join.” He looks down at you, his smile morphing into a grin. “If you’ll have me too, of course.”

“Duh,” you snicker, lightly shoving his chest. “Where have you been, by the way?”

Bucky hesitates. Steve’s voice rings in his head. You’re gonna have to open up. That starts here, he supposes. “I uh...I thought you wanted some space,” he says softly. “I thought I came on too strong and you asked me to tone it down, so I was-- I was trying to do that.” You stay quiet, so he continues. “I didn’t want to overstep or anything -- and I’m sorry if I did, it won’t happen again, I swear.”

You stop him before he can apologize anymore. “You didn’t overstep at all, I promise, but thank you anyway for the apology,” you smile gently.

“Okay, cool,” he breathes deeply. “Or-- You’re welcome.”

You stare at him in disbelief, watching him stutter and stumble over his words. It’s something you never thought you’d ever see James Barnes do in front of someone like you. But here he is, stammering, apologizing, sincerity all over his face.

“Bucky...I’ve got a confession,” you blurt before you can stop yourself. “I thought you were different. A lot different.”

“What?”

“I told you to tone it down because I thought you just-- I thought you wanted a hookup. That’s your thing, you know. Everyone knows it is,” you murmur and Bucky watches with guilt clouding his features. “So when I realized you were stuck here, too, I just thought you’d try it with me, too. I’ve avoided you for so long so you would never get the idea, but...being stuck here with no one else, I thought all my defenses were gone.

“But you’re not…You’re not like that. Or you haven’t been to me. So I’m sorry for having that misconception. It wasn’t fair to you.”

“Thank you…?” He replies hesitantly. “I think?”

Your heart is beating rapidly as you think about what you want to tell him next. But is it worth it? Something about the way he’s been acting, the different side of himself that you’ve seen -- it makes you think it is.

“Bucky, I avoided you because I had a raging crush on you,” you laugh, hoping your laughter will diffuse the situation if he’s uncomfortable.

But Bucky isn’t uncomfortable. He’s in disbelief. “You...what?”

“I know, I know, prime time to tell you, too, after we just watched a TV show with my little sister,” you shake your head, sitting up to move away. He definitely doesn’t feel the same, but that’s not the point. You needed to get it off your chest for yourself. “And you’re-- Sorry, I should’ve prefaced that with the fact that I’m not expecting anything. I just needed to get that out for me--”

“Y/N...I…” Bucky pauses. “I like you. A lot.”

Now you’re in disbelief. “What?” James Barnes, resident fuckboy, liking a girl like you? Unheard of. Impossible, even.

“I do,” he nods vigorously, sitting up further to be at your eye level again. “It’s why I’ve been so-- I’ve been a wreck, frankly, and that’s why. You can ask Steve, so you know I’m not shittin’ you, but I swear, I like you. So much that I’ve been so damn worried about screwing it up.”

How could he be worried about messing things up? “You haven’t,” you shake your head. “Screwed things up, I mean.”

“Thank God,” Bucky breathes, running his fingers through his hair. “Okay, well, I know this is...probably kind of forward, so you can definitely tell me no, but...would you wanna go on a date with me?”

You nearly laugh, but catch yourself, not wanting him to get the wrong idea. “I mean, yes, but,” you furrow your eyebrows. “Where?”

“We don’t need to go somewhere to have a date,” he replies simply. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of it.”

You don’t like the sound of that because you don’t like anyone taking control, but it’s Bucky, so you nod. You cave. “Okay. What time? It can’t run into Netflix party time, she’d kill the both of us.”

“Of course not,” he shakes his head. “Before. I’ll come pick you up.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You’ll pick me up?”

“Yeah,” he replies, some confidence seeping back in as he grins. “I’ll knock on your door, you know, as a gentleman should.”

“I never thought I’d hear you talk about being a gentleman,” you admit.

“I’m always a gentleman,” he defends himself gently. “You’ll see. I’ll show you, I swear. I won’t screw it up.”

“I don’t think you will,” you say quietly, meaning it, and scaring yourself that you do.

The two of you share a look before Bucky stands to his feet, holding out his hand. You stare at it, skeptical, before placing your hand in his.

“I’m walking you to your door,” he explains, noticing your confusion as he picks up your laptop for you in his free hand. He pauses, a moment of panic as he wonders if this is too much. “If that’s okay.”

“Yeah,” you squeeze his hand. “It’s okay.”

You never thought Bucky could be this sweet, but he’s behaving like it’s his nature. He walks you up the staircase, waiting at the edge for you to guide him in the direction of your room. And as promised, he drops you at your door.

“Thank you,” you smile, taking your laptop from him. “Do you want my number?”

“Oh.” Red tints his cheeks. “Sure.”

You snicker quietly as he hands you his phone. You type in your number and send yourself a text, a simple “hi” so you’ll know it’s Bucky’s number.

“See you tomorrow?” You say quietly.

“Yeah,” he nods. “I won’t hide anymore.”

“Good,” you murmur.

Stepping forward, you rest your free hand on his chest as you press a kiss to his cheek, wondering where you got the nerve. But the grin on Bucky’s lips and the blush dusting his cheeks makes it all worth it.

[thisonesforfanfic]

Light in the Dark (3/?)

Bucky x Reader

A/N: I do not know which warnings I should put on this, if you feel like any is needed, please let me know. 

Summary: Steve and Bucky come back earlier than expected to meet you, bearing some very unpleasent news

Word Count: 1.8K

In front of a narrow apartment building, Bucky took in the sight of the tall black door, the worn out steps leading to it, and the bright red brick wall holding it all together. Standing next to his best friend, he was hesitant to go in, he knew he was bearing too much on his shoulders, and he was terrified of whatever was coming next. He took a deep breath and analyzed the sight again before ringing the bell.

---

You were awaken by the noise coming from the door. Taking care of the bar without Y/B/N was taking a huge toll on your sleep schedule, you waited for another bell, in the hopes you were just still dreaming and could go back to resting. As it rang again, you got up to realize you were still wearing the same knee high skirt and black shirt from yesterday's shift, shaking your head at yourself for not even being able to have changed. You stumbled down the steps barefoot, rubbing your eyes as you opened the door.

"Steve? James? What are you doing here? I thought you were arriving next week" their blank expressions made you confused at first "Where's Y/B/N? Is he coming on a different train or something?"

"Y/N, he..." You didn't to let Steve finish, still a little confused.

"It's okay, I'll just go get changed and we can go to the station-"

"Doll, please" Bucky's eyes were trying to find yours,  begging for you to look at him as he talked to you. You spotted the telegram on his hands, you couldn't take your eyes off it "listen to us" you wouldn't, you knew the dreadful words they wanted to deliver.

"No, he's on his way, come on in, I'll be quick" you turned around, to go back inside, but you felt a grip on your wrist, holding you in place.

"We thought we had be the ones to tell you Y/N" Steve held you as you tried to get rid of his grip desperately, what led him to pull you closer, not letting you move.

"Don't! He's coming back" you shouted as you punched the super soldier's iron chest, as hard as you possibly could, your hand ached but you kept doing it.

Steve held you, letting you punch him on the chest as the realization of what it all was kicked in. The punches quickly lost strengh, giving place to a painful cry " I... need him... -here"

Bucky wanted to hold you, comfort you, make everything alright, but he had no idea how, he didn't know how hard it would be for him to see you cry like that, after your cry turned into sniffs and uneven breathing, he managed to say something.

"Doll, please, let us help you" You nodded as you let go of Steve and led them in, Bucky put a comforting hand on your back. He was heartbroken, he knew you'd be hurt, but he didn't expect to be so sad at the sight

"Y/N, your brother was helping us free soldiers being held captive on a Hydra base" Steve was battling his words, he knew it was his duty to say what happened, but both of them didn't want to see you suffer. "He sacrificed himself so we could lead everyone out of there"

"I tried to get him out" Bucky said softly, as you entered the small kitchen, they took their places around the table in front of you, but no one dared to sit "He shoved me away.... a- and gave me this" He was hesitant to open his hand, he knew what it meant to you. Your mom's necklace, you had given it to Y/B/N as a good luck charm, as he had given the knife to you.

"She gave it to me before she ran back to the house.... To keep them a-, to stall... so we could be free" You took the necklace, a thin black chain with a light blue rose pendant, holding it close to your heart, you felt the tears stream down your face

"This isn't really  happening, is it?" You stopped by the window, turning to the men standing in front of you. Looking for any sign that it was all a dream, but they seemed just as devastaded as you were "He'd never... leave me" you felt your knees give in, and almost instantly, two arms wrapping around you before you hit the ground.

"He wanted you to be protected, we are here to do just that" Bucky kissed your forehead and you burried your face on his neck, sobbing, not even his comforting embrace was helping you now.

"I want t- them... ba -ck" You could barely speak "I- I don't want to be alone, don't.. leave"

"Y/N, we are not going anywhere" you felt Steve's arm on your back as he whispered to you "we are here for you"

He offered to brew some tea, and you nodded. Bucky lifted you up, holding you tight, making his way to the narrow living room, he sat down on the beat up couch, not letting his grip on you loosen. You kept your head burried on his shoulders, afraid of him vanishing if you looked up.

Steve joined you after a while with the kettle and mugs, though it still took you a few minutes to calm down enough to even be able to see anything through the tears. You didn't want to open your eyes though, face the tiny room knowing he wouldn't be there anymore, Y/B/N wouldn't tickle you whenever you sat on your father's old chair before he could reach it, getting home late after a tiring night at the bar and falling asleep at eachother's lap on this couch. He was your only family.

"Please doll, drink some" Steve poured the cammomile tea to a mug, and handed it out to you "it will help you feel a little better" he insisted as you didn't let go of Bucky's shirt.

Bucky took the mug from Steve and whispered in your ear "You know... Y/B/N sacrificed so you could at least have at least us" he let his arms around you loosen so he could look into your Y/E/C eyes, those blue marbels staring at you, just trying to figure out how to take the pain away "I know is not what you wanted, but he wouldn't like it seeing you this way" He brushed the hair strands off your face, putting it behind your ear "please drink"

You couldn't deny him that, what Bucky was saying was right, Y/B/N wouldn't want you to be sad like that, just like you helped him when your father passed. Death wasn't meant to be sad, but a way to remember what a person did when they lived, how good and how bad some decisions were, the sacrifices they did and most of all what they tought us. But it was just too soon for him.

You took the cup and sipped on the warm tea "thank you" you looked over at Steve with guilt in your eyes "sorry I hit you, I shouldn't have"

"You are hurt" He put his hands on your knees "We all are, this is not easy, but you should know we really are here for you, right Buck?"

"Yeah doll, let's drink our tea and once we are done we can go for a walk, make lunch, whatever you feel like"

"I- I wanna hear about him... Is that okay?" you looked at their surprised and yet confused faces "I want to hear about his bravery" you pleaded as Steve looked down at his mug, with his shoulders shruged

Seeing his friend was uncomfortable, somehow feeling guilty for Y/B/N's death. Bucky quickly intervined

"How about this: I'll tell you everything that happened these past few days, and Steve can go to the store so we can make lunch" He saw the immediate relief of weight on his friend's shoulders and a hint of a smile on your lips as you sipped again on the mug.

As Steve left, Bucky told you all about the places they had seen, the beautiful, movie like sceneries, your brother's jokes, how good he was at sneaking in everywhere, and how his aim saved Bucky at least three times. After he told the stories, you kept staring at his eyes, as if asking for him to keep going, but when you realized there wasn't anymore good parts on them, you broke the silence

"Thanks James" a fragile smile on your lips. You were feeling a lot lighter “I needed that”

"Why are you so persistent in not calling me Bucky?" He said with a grin, coming closer to you. You just now realized how close your face was to his, still with your legs over his and his arm around your waist, you noticed how good that felt. Looking at him, feeling his soft touch and warm breath, that smile.

Shit

You pulled away as you heard Steve opening the door, turning red and making Bucky chuckle

"Just don't punch my teeth out, doll" he whispered in your ear, then got up to help Steve

You got up right after, and excused yourself to take a shower while they prepared some sandwiches.

There were just too many thoughts racing through your head: his death, his sacrifice, the bar, the work you'd have to double, going back to war without Y/B/N, staying here alone, and... Bucky.

All those nights staring at the nightsky by his side, and the moment you had on the sofa made you fall so hard for him, but you were scared to admit it, he probably flirted with you just for fun, but you loved it.

"Is everything alright in there doll?" His voice snapped you back to reality "You've been there for a while, and I will definetly break this door down if need be"

"I'm fine James" Although a part of you realy wanted him in there with you

"Alright, take your time doll... We are very hungry though" you laughed quietly "so we'd really appreciate if you grace us with your company to eat"

Wrapped in nothing but a towel, with your wet hair over your shoulders, you opened the door to find a Bucky paralized by the sight

"Can your hunger wait for me to change?" you whispered in a playful voice.

Not being able to find words, he just nodded and stepped back for you to walk to your bedroom. You decided to put on a white shirt from Y/B/N, feeling his scent made you a little more comfortable. It was pretty large, though, so you tucked it into your grey skirt before going back out to eat something. The three remained silent for a while, Bucky and Steve were really that hungry, and you just didn't want to talk.

"I really want to thank you two" you looked at the men after the sandwiches were gone

"You don't have to doll" Steve was sincere

"I really do" you frowned your face "I can't even begin to imagine the trouble you went through just to be the ones to deliver the news"

"Well you are right about that" Bucky’s lips , lightening the mood imensly "since we are going to be in big trouble, you could at least pour us those drinks like promised"

“It’s the least I can do” you were numbed with the whole situation, but their company made it easier to bear. Their worry showed you that you’d never truly be alone.

#############

Thanks for reading!

[certifiedskywalker]

Can’t Sleep? - Bucky Barnes

You hear a rustling and crashing in the Avengers Facility kitchen one night. Survival instincts and year of Captain America’s training kicks in as you go in to investigate. What you see isn’t an intruder….what you see breaks your heart.

Normally, due to the intense training regimes that Steve calls ‘the average workout’, sleep comes easy to you. Your aching bones and sore muscles give into the plush blankets of your bed. It helped that the Avengers Facility in Upstate-New York was surrounded by forests. The sounds of the city were dulled, honking car echoed as an owl’s call.

However, there were times when your own screaming thoughts kept you up in the late hours of the night. It was to not fault of your own; pasts have a habit of sneaking up on people when they think they’ve finally put it behind them. You had heard Natasha, who sometimes stays in the room beside you, calling out in her sleep. When you would go in to check on her she would either be failing her limbs, striking out an invisible villains or curled up on herself, as if trying to keep herself physically together.

She wasn’t the only one that was tormented by old demons. Your past had been quiet for a few weeks, nestling in the back of your brain in eerie silence. So it didn’t surprise you that tonight, you found yourself tossing and turning beneath your covers. It didn’t help at all when a loud crashing rang out from down the hall.

You sprang up, feet quietly padding out of your room. Body tense, readying yourself for an attack, you snuck down the hall and towards the sound of grunts coming from the kitchen. Your heart was pounding in your ribcage as your mind raced to figure out how someone had broken into a compound full of superpowered beings. Pressing your back against the wall and peeking around the corner, you found out why.

“Bucky?” Wide blue eyes lifted to meet your gaze with pink dusting the man’s scruffy cheeks. You smiled at his blush, revealing yourself fully in the dimmed light of the kitchen.

“Sorry, did I wake you?” His voice was coated in sleep, heavy and rough from lack of use. His tone alone sent a shiver down your spine which you tried your hardest to suppress.

“No,” you admitted, walking over to the other side of the counter. You noticed his robotic arm was removed. Bucky must have noticed your furrowed brows as he followed your gaze to the shoulder masked in a black cover up.

“Jus’ didn’t want it for a while,” he explained, pulling your from your thoughts. You shook your head, heat rushing to your cheeks.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to stare.” Bucky gave you a reassuring smile and a nod before picking up the utensils that had crashed to the ground.

“Then why do I find you staring so often?” Bucky’s question caught you off guard as he straightened back up to look into your eyes. You mouth fell open as you attempted to formulate a witty response; but, like always, Bucky’s flirting caught you off guard.

Steve had told you all about Bucky’s hay days, when there seemingly wasn’t a day with a girl on his arm. You didn’t believe Steve at first. You couldn’t see how the Bucky you had grown to know could be such a womanizer. Then you got to know Bucky better. He was disgustingly charming, to the point where, when he smiled at you, you felt sick in the best kind of way. Part of you wonder if the super soldier had picked up on your affections for him, as lately his flirting was reaching new heights. It was dangerous, the peak it was reaching.

“Well, I,” you stammered, trying to recover. Bucky only smiled as you struggled, but only part of his lips were upturned. You frowned at his expression, knowing something was up. When he teased you like this, Bucky would be all grins. “What’s wrong?”

“What?” What was left of his smile faded into the recesses of his face, his gaze softening in a way you had never seen before.

“You heard me,” you said, moving to his side of the counter so you could read his expression closer. “What’s wrong, Buck?” He didn’t answer you. Instead, he turned his attention back to the bowl to of cereal he had made. When he reached for a spoon, you rested your hand on his wrist. Bucky’s gaze pulled back up to yours and you saw a glimmer of something unfamiliar in his beautiful blue eyes.

“I jus’ can’t sleep,” he lied. It was plain to see that he was not  ready to talk about whatever had happened. Natasha often had the same look on her face after one of her nightmares. So, in place of pressing him further, you smiled.

“Can’t sleep? Me neither. So what do you want to do?” Bucky almost choked on a spoonful of the grossly healthy cereal Steve had demanded Tony to buy. Coughing, he set the spoon back in the bowl and leaned against the counter top with his one arm.

“What are you implying, Y/N? I mean, I don’t think that now is-”

“I was thinking we could go up to the roof,” you cut off, smiling when you realized where Bucky’s mind had gone. “Although, what you’re implying….”

“No,” Bucky said quickly, the pink on his cheek returning, “your idea works.” You let out a light laugh, one that made Bucky smile, truly smile.

“Okay we should grab some blankets and stuff then. It’s cold up there.” You walked into the adjoining living room and snagged some of the think blankets piled against one of the couches. Slinging them over your shoulder, you turned back to Bucky who had left his bowl of cereal to help you. You gave him a grateful smile and started towards the elevator.

“Do you do this often?” Bucky asked once the doors shut on the living room and shot up towards the roof. Your smile, the one you always had whenever Bucky was around faded.

“Not often, at least, I don’t think so. Only when I can’t sleep.” You turned your head to face Bucky, only to find his eyes already on you. “Like you, right now.”

Your words struck a chord with Bucky as he fell silent. His eyes held your gaze though, conveying that he understood what ‘can’t sleep’ truly meant. You figured he would have a better understanding than anyone else. Bucky had been through so much, yet here he was, still doing more. It was one of the many things you adored about him.

It felt all too soon when the elevator doors opened and Bucky tore his gaze from yours. The cool night air kissed your skin, causing goosebumps to raise. Shivering, you led Bucky to the spot where you normally sat. Spreading out one of the larger blankets, you quickly cuddled yourself up with the remaining fabric. Bucky chuckled at the sight before settling down beside you.

“It’s late enough where you can see some of the stars,” you said, craning your neck up towards the sky. With your eyes upwards, you missed how Bucky’s gaze traced the curved line of your neck and how he swallowed thickly, trying to distract from the urges of his mind. “But sometimes the lights from the city are just too bright.”

“Really, from this far away?” Bucky asked after clearing his throat. You turned your head back to face him with a smile.

“Even from this far away. It’s hard to forget that it’s there.”

“Partly because it’s loud and it smells bad,” Bucky added, eyes studying the sky while you studied the profile of his face. You let out a laugh and nodded.

“Was it always so loud and smelly?” Now it was Bucky’s turn to laugh and nod. His eyes, now starlit, turned to face you and he began to explain how factory smoke would blot out the blue of the skies and choke out the scent of any flower. You listened as he spoke, laying down on the blankets now and staring up at him rather than the expanse of space above you.

“So yeah, you could say New York was always that way.” You nodded against your arm which you had folded beneath you for a makeshift pillow. Noting your silence, Bucky looked down and smiled at the sight of you. “Have I bored you to sleep?”

“No,” you whined, smiling as Bucky laid beside you. He was resting on his back, eyes looking up and into the sky. “It was just nice hearing you talk.”

“Really?” He asked, turning his head to face you. You nodded, holding his gaze. Now you could see how he clenched his jaw as his eyes remained trained on you. Tenison rested between you, heavy against your bodies.

“Really,” you breathed out to give voice to your reply. Bucky opened his mouth slightly, as if growing the courage to speak again, but only a shaky breath passed over his lips. You took the moment to continue. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Talk about what?” Bucky asked, and you imagined that his heart was beating as swiftly as yours. You shifted, leaning your head up on your hand so you could look down and into his eyes. Bucky peered up at you, studying you from this new angle. Yeah, still beautiful.

“Why you can’t sleep,” you explained, “I get if you don’t want to. It’s just, when I come up here I think about why I can’t sleep. Whether it was a nightmare or a memory…”

“What about a nightmarish memory?” Bucky’s question shattered your heart the moment the words reached your ears. You stared down at him and he must have seen the tears gathering in your eyes because he sat up, using his one arm to push himself closer to you. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m alright. You don’t need to worry about me, Y/N.”

“It was that bad?” You asked quietly and Bucky nodded bitterly, knowing what you were asking. You curled close to his warmth, hoping to give him some sort of comfort.

“The things they said...the things they made me...it still haunts me,” he admitted. “Most of the time I can ignore it, ya know. Moments where I can smile and have a hint of happy before I remember everything I’ve done.”

“But that wasn’t you, Buck,” you said. Bucky met your gaze, his brows furrowed slightly. “You know that you weren’t in control. It wasn’t your fault. I know you, Steve knows you. You would never do any of those things if you had been truly yourself.” Bucky nodded along with your words, but you felt as if your point wasn’t fully across; so you took it one step further.

“You have a good heart, James,” you whispered as you rested your palm against his chest. The sound of his real name sounded like music falling from your lips. Bucky’s eyes held yours with an intensity you had only see them hold in battle.

“Y/N,” he started, his hand trailing from yours that rested against his chest. You could now feel the thundering beat of Bucky’s heart and wondered if your sounded the same. His fingers trailed past your wrist to cup your elbow, bending it so he could pull you closer to him. Your faces were a mere centimeters apart now, tantalizing close. “Can I?”

You didn’t answer with words. Instead of a desperate ‘yes’ you closed the gap between you and placed your lips on his. His hand, fueled with a new fire, moved from your arm leaving paths of heat in his finger’s wake. His warm palm held your face close to his, cupping your jaw to keep you in place. Lips moved against each other with an unpracticed ease and you couldn’t help but think that this was what kissing was really like.

“Buck,” you murmured against his lips as you pulled away slightly. Bucky’s hand moved, holding your chin between his thumb and forefinger. You smiled at him softly, mirroring his own expression. He hummed lightly before pressing his lips to yours once more in a quick peck.

“I’ve been waiting for that,” he whispered, a smug smile on his features.

“Really now?” You teased, “I couldn't tell from all of the flirting.” Bucky chuckled and leaned up to kiss your forehead. You melted at the gesture, leaning against his good shoulder.

“Really,” was his only reply and the only one you needed. You both spent the rest of the night on the roof, tracing out new constellations with your fingers and basking in the warmth of your company. It was a welcomed relief when you both trailed off to sleep as the sun began to rise. Perhaps now, the two of you would be spared from nightmares and good dreams would waltzing along together in their place.

[scribeofmorpheus]

As Fate Would Have It Part 8 (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

Catch Up Here!

A/N: This update took fucking forever! Forgive me, lol. But I have started a new challenge to see if I can finish this series before Endgame so... fingers crossed! Also, I won’t lie, I enjoy young Howard Stark’s personality.  And the opening was definitely not inspired by the opening of Marvelous Mr.s Maisel s2!!! *winks with both eyes!*

Remember: Reader’s alias is Helen Rushman but everyone calls you Elle!

Words: 2463

Warnings: Angst?! Pfft, I don’t even know!

(gif isn’t mine)

One Month Later

You sat at the work station of Betty Bloom, one of the employees you had befriended during your 3 weeks at your new job. Her calls were fairly few, giving you a lot of breathing room between calls. On the other end of the operators' office Agnes, a shaky poodle of a woman, was having less of a breezy time.

"Hellen, help!" Agnes yelped from her chair by the switchboard, "There are too many calls coming through!" she panicked, lost in a tangle of cables.

You used your chair to swivel to her place as she smoothly moved out the way. "Stark Industries, how may I direct your call?" you asked with the company-polite-policy tone. After a few seconds, you put the right switch in its corresponding section. "Stark Industries, how may I direct your call?" you repeated the process like a record player.

After a few minutes of dealing with the bulk of the calls, you gave Agnes a cheeky wink, "All done. I believe these are yours?" You held up a switchboard jack yet to be connected.

Agnes fanned herself dramatically as she wheeled back to her station, "Girl, I don't know how you do it. You are a literal angel."

"All in a day’s work," you smiled back before heading back to the station you were covering. Betty came back from her quick smoke break soon after. "And Agnes, it's Elle. Never Helen."

"Thank ye, darlin'," Betty retrieved her headsets from you, "You are an actual lifesaver. Now ye best get on, before the handsome Moustachioed Casanova notices you've been gone a minute."

Some of the girls giggled youthfully at Betty's mention of Howard Stark's nickname, others visibly swooned. You thought it best to follow the trend and feigned the same level of adoration the other women showed. You bid the girls a fond adieu and made your way back upstairs to your office.

You had been working as Howard Stark’s secretary for a few weeks now. From early on, the other secretaries showed a colder reception towards you when you first arrived, they probably thought you slept your way to the position considering a lot of the other girls had been vying for this position months before you even stepped foot in Brooklyn. And so you wound up spending time with the much more accepting and lively telephone operators in the basement.

You made your way to your desk, getting a few sour looks from the other secretaries. The piercing intensity of their fiery gaze reminded you a lot of the Red Room and how people you had considered allies could just as easily turn into adversaries. One of them even resembled Yelena which made you grind your teeth every time you saw her permanently squinted eyes. When you got to your desk you were greeted by the all too familiar sounds of your boss, Howard Stark, being a little too cheeky and less attentive than he should be while a suit argued over a patent.

"Howard, you stole my invention, admit it!" the man shouted.

You heard a chuckle and had the urge to peek into the office subtly from behind your desk.

"I did no such thing old boy," Howard said condescendingly. Giving the unknown man a pat on the back. Even you had to admit, he could be charming when you least expected it. "It can't be helped if we both thought up the same idea. It's a mere coincidence."

"That's folly and you know it!"

"Listen here, Frankie. Do you know the difference between your patent and mine?" the suit, Frankie, stayed silent. "The answer is simple. Mine is simply better than yours. See, Stark Industries invents quality, reliable and groundbreaking products. And to be frank, yours just doesn't meet any of those standards."

Frankie was turning beet red, "Why you--"

"Mr Stark, your 3 o'clock is here. Should I tell security to let him up or will you be going down to meet him?" You interjected just in time to diffuse what could have been a rather messy situation. Howard smirked at you, no doubt impressed by your cunning.

"Thank you, Helen but there'll be no need. I was heading out anyway," You didn't bother to correct him. Howard pretended to organise some documents into a briefcase. "Sorry, Frankie. Guess we'll have to continue this stimulating conversation another time. Set a time with my very capable secretary, she'll pencil you in."

Frankie or Frank, whichever it was, muttered a few choice words under his breath before he stormed off in a huff.

"Nice timing there, darlin'," Howard complemented. "To think of all the times my previous secretaries caused a scene by actually calling security… And all the tabloid headlines that followed. Where have you been all my life?" he mused.

"Certainly not running in your circles, Sir." You bit back with a little too much attitude. You were about to apologize until you saw how Howard was looking at you: like his next conquest.

"Ah, the Dame's got bite too," he threw a dashing smile your way. Shameless flirt he was.

Now you got to witness first hand why they called him the Moustachioed Casanova, he did have the curse of charisma.

Howard gathered a file and walked towards you, "Here, file these for me and go down to Research and Development and make sure we didn't actually steal Frankie's designs. Can't have a lawsuit on my ass." He handed you the papers. He lingered for a moment before gathering his coat and hat.

"Of course, Sir."

He stopped by the door of his office and looked at you with a raised brow, "One more thing..."

"Sir?"

"I thought my 3 O'clock was a… woman."

You held back the urge to laugh, "It is. I just didn't think that particular piece of information was pertinent for others to be privy to."

Without warning, Howard placed a harmless, giddy kiss on your cheek. "If only every other secretary could have your smarts!" He said hastily before departing for his 'meeting'.

That would be a frightful thing to behold you thought, knowing full well how devious and merciless assassins could be, let alone underpaid secretaries!

In the background you heard what sounded like him walking into someone, followed by a hasty "Pardon me."

You glanced over at the large file in your hand and at Howard's empty office. Finally! The opportune moment to search his office for anything pertaining to Project Rebirth. The sooner you could uncover a new lead, the sooner you could leave your post and try to go back to the way things were. You felt a sting in your heart when you remembered the sad look on Bucky's face when ended things three weeks ago. You shook those thoughts from your head and got to work.

In a bin, by the doorway of the floor, you saw a fresh bouquet of pink flowers. Strange… You hadn't noticed them when you went for your break in the basement earlier. They reminded you of the peach farm you, Bucky, Sal and Steve had visited.

***

Steve and Bucky were having lunch at a different diner in town. Bucky had had a constant far-away look on his face lately and Steve was getting worried.

One of the waitresses came down, she seemed very interested in hooking Bucky's attention but he simply placed his order and gave a polite smile before gazing back out the window.

"Come on Buck, you can't keep moping about," Steve tried to console his best friend. "It's been three weeks." In all truth, Steve had never seen his pal so worked up over a girl before. If only there was something he could do besides endless pep talks. Steve wracked his brain while he sipped his burnt coffee.

A man besides their table was reading a newspaper that read "12 Month Countdown to Stark Expo".

Steve nudged Bucky and whispered conspiratorially, "Hey, what do you think about the Stark Expo?"

Bucky followed after Steve's eye line and saw the newspaper, "If I'm being honest Steve-O, I haven't thought much about it."

Steve started going off about his thoughts on what was quickly becoming the event of the decade, Bucky nodded his head and gave a few Oh's and Ah's, but really his attention was fully placed on the Uncle Sam poster printed in black and white on the back page that screamed "We Want You!"

"Hey… Buck?" Steve seemed less confident now.

"Yeah?"

"Do you know why Elle… you know, ended things between you two?"

Bucky gazed down at his coffee cup. He began stirring the coffee despite there being no sugar or milk in it. "Work," was all he said.

"That can't be it, can it?"

"She said she'd be too busy, didn't want to hold me back… or something rather."

"And you just went along with it? That's not like you Buck. When you want something you always go for it!"

Bucky chuckled, a smile threatening to spread across his lips, "So what you're saying is, I should never have let her walk out of my life?"

"Come on man, you're absolutely miserable without her!" Steve fidgeted about a bit, he saw a vase with a few wilting flowers in it and suddenly a thought popped into his head. "Hey! Why don't you make some grand gesture and tell her you don't care if she's going to be busier with work or you won’t see her as much. Tell her how you really feel. That you lo--" Steve stopped himself before he said too much.

Bucky mulled over Steve's hopelessly romantic words for a moment. And in a flash, he stood up, placed some money on the counter, thanked his friend and walked out of the diner with purpose.

Steve smiled after his friend as he waited for his food patiently, "Hey, 'scuse me. Mind if I borrow that?" He asked the gentleman with the newspaper.

"Sure thing pal," he handed him the paper.

Bucky made his way to the subway and took the Two-Twenty-Two to midtown. When he reached his stop a whole 30 minutes had passed. It was quarter to 3 when he took the elevator up to the secretarial pool of Stark Industries -having bribed the security personnel 5 bucks and swooning over about winning a girls heart. He had a bouquet of pink flowers that reminded him of their picnic at Sue's Farm, a new found smile that felt strange on his face since becoming accustomed to brooding and a smart head of hair -having used the reflective surface of the elevator to smooth it out. He was ready to win her back! But then he saw something he didn't expect.

Elle was standing in a man's office, he looked to be enjoying her company. Then abruptly, he kissed her cheek, and she didn't protest. Bucky stood frozen in the doorway for a few moments. Only to be snapped out of his haze when the very same man, who he recognised from the papers as Howard Stark, nearly bumped into him on his way out. Bucky felt a surge of red hot boil his blood, but he simply balled his fists and dumped the bouquet in the nearest bin. He chose to leave using the stairs, not wanting to face the security personnel he had told of his plans to woo Elle back.

Walking back to his apartment he saw a large Uncle Sam poster, and this time he felt as though it was pointing right at him. With purpose and still glazed over with anger, Bucky began walking in the opposite direction. In the direction of the nearest recruitment centre.

***

When you returned to your apartment you were beyond exhausted. Not only did you have too many files to sort through -you made a mental note to impose a more efficient filing system on Mr Stark- but you also had to juggle snooping around Howard's office without raising anyone’s suspicions before he returned from his 3 0'Clock meeting.

You kicked off your shoes and placed the lonely bouquet you saw earlier on the table. You filled an old marmalade Jar and snipped the stems shorter before placing the newly hydrated flowers on the counter. You set the kettle on to make some tea and went to change out of your work clothes.

"Elle, darlin' that you?" Sal chimed in from her room.

"Hey, Sal. I just put on the kettle. Want some tea?"

"Oh, swell!" you heard her feet patter across the floor into the kitchen. "Oh, these are wonderful. Who sent them?" She asked in reference to the flowers.

"No idea. Found them in the trash."

"And you just… picked them up?" she wasn't amused.

"It was empty!"

"Oh, well, that makes it okay," she retorted.

"Is that sarcasm?"

"Maybe... this is what happens when you leave me alone with Annie," there was a pause as she removed the whistling kettle from the stove and plopped some cups down. "Oh, there's a card."

You walked out of your room and gave Sal a warm smile. "Who's it from?"

Sal went slightly pale before she balled the card in her hand and walked over to the bin, "No one." You thought her voice sounded odd. She walked back and sat at the count, her hands fidgeting in her pocket. "Probably a lover’s quarrel." She cleared her throat.

"Boy, have I had the most exhausting day--"

"Sorry Hun, I just realised I have to call my brother before it gets too late," Sal practically all but ran into her room. You thought she was acting rather odd but didn't follow up on it. You stretched and headed to the bathroom to run a bath.

***

Sal scoured through her diary looking for Steve's number. She knew she had it somewhere because she called him when she was planning the surprise party she threw for Elle last month.

"Here it is," she cheered. She dialled the number and uncrumpled the card that was on the bouquet. It read: To my best girl, B.

It had to be from Bucky, but how did Elle not notice it? Why hadn't she said anything? And why did Elle find them in the trash? Sal had so many questions and she hoped Steve could answer them, but most of all, she wanted to see if this meant there was space for a reconciliation. Because, honestly, Sal noticed how down Elle's mood had been since she and Bucky split and she imagined Bucky wasn't doing much better either.

When Steve picked up, she almost squealed at the image forming in her mind: Elle and Bucky, back together again!

Part 9 is here!

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As Always: I hope you enjoyed this chapter, If you like it don’t be afraid to ask to be added to the tag list and feedback is like a writer’s favourite gift, so if you have anything to say, don’t be shy!! ;)

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[amethystina]

If you are still doing the mash ups, how would you combine, say, 71. Twenty-Four Hours to Live aaand 49. Arranged Marriage (for Winteriron)?

I admit that I had to think long and hard on this one and, eventually, I ended up with some weird kind of dystopian arranged marriage AU? And it’s not like Bucky will die within twenty-four hours, but his life will certainly be forfeit within a not-to-distant future once those hours are up.

More below the cut!

The story is set in a world that’s a little more technologically advanced than ours. Big parts of the planet has died and people now live in huge, sprawling cities, protected by high walls and various high-tech shields to keep the elements and pollution at bay. Due to how these cities are built (i.e. can’t expand all that easily) the population has to be kept under control. This is done through various methods, like excellent birth control, a limit on children one family can produce, and a firm belief in monogamy and the sanctity of marriage. The one you marry, you stay with for life, because there’s no room to go galavanting off and get kids left and right. The state also has a hand in approving marriages, to make sure that the best genes are preserved. This means that same-sex relationships are, in fact, quite common, since they don’t result in children. But, of course, these couples’ chances of adopting a child are extremely low. Only the rich can pay enough to buy one of the precious babies being allowed to be born each year.

ANYHOW. Like all true dystopian stories, this one has a dark side. Namely that those who aren’t considered beneficial to society are, well, cast out. There are settlements huddled around on the outside of these cities, consisting of the sick, weak, and generally undesirable who have been discreetly shoved out the door. It’s a harsh life since there’s no protection to be had and very little food. More often than not, it’s a death sentence (which, coincidentally, is also the most common punishment for murder, because no one wants to waste precious resources on criminals). There are laws in place to decide who gets to stay or not and, as you might have guessed, they are much harsher for the poor. Anyone who is sick, unmarried, and without a job are more likely to get kicked out.

Bucky is all three.

When he lost his arm four years ago it wasn’t such a big deal at first. Lots of soldiers lose limbs and they’re always given prosthetics to make sure they can keep working (soldiers are, after all, not growing on trees, either). Bucky is no exception. But then, about five months before his thirtieth birthday, he’s suddenly not allowed to extend his contract and finds himself without a job and is given no explanation why. Bucky is a good soldier, but, apparently, the brass has decided he’s not worth it anymore.

Bucky moves in with Steve and Peggy, no longer able to pay for his small one-room apartment, and he realises, quite suddenly, that he is literally months away from getting kicked out. People like him — those with a physical disability, no job, and no spouse— will be shown the door once they’re past thirty. But, naturally, no one wants to give Bucky a job once they find that out. Why hire someone who is nearing their expiration date anyway? And it’s not like he has anyone to marry, either, since he doesn’t qualify for the programs set in place to help people find a suitable match.

So Bucky suddenly finds himself running out of options. Even Steve, who’s been sickly for as long as they both can remember, is safe for now, since he married Peggy. Technically, the state disapproved of that match (Steve doesn’t have very promising genes, they argued) but Peggy pulled enough strings and twisted enough arms to make it happen anyway. Because no one tells Peggy fucking Carter what to do.

Bucky is glad that Steve has a future, but he is admittedly worried about his own. He grows more and more desperate as the weeks past and, long before he’s ready, his birthday arrives. Bucky knows they won’t come for him until the day after, so he has twenty-four hours left before he’s exiled. Both Peggy and Steve are, understandably, distraught while Bucky is mostly numb. He’s done what he can to prepare— bought supplies that will at least last a couple of weeks — but he knows that won’t do much in the long run. Once he’s outside the wall, his fate is sealed.

While he knows that he should spend his last day with his loved ones, he ends up drifting instead. Just walking along the streets, drinking in the city he’s lived in his entire life but will never see again. All their grief and anger just makes his own panic spike. He will go back home before the evening, but, for now, he does what he wants.

Eventually, he ends up at a bar. He figures it’s one of the last times he’ll get to drink, so why not? It’s not a nice place by any means, but the beer is acceptable and the music is good, so he doesn’t complain. 

It’s when he’s just starting to get tipsy that someone bumps into him where he’s sitting hunched over the bar. Bucky turns, annoyed, but the scathing reprimand dies on his lips when his gaze meets a pair of gorgeous brown eyes. The guy is probably a couple of years younger than Bucky but cute as hell with a charming smile and clothes worth more than Bucky’s entire wardrobe. He’s not entirely sure what the guy is doing there— in that kind of bar—but, from the moment their gazes meet, his entire focus shifts to Bucky in an extremely flattering way.

His name is Tony, Bucky learns.

Tony buys Bucky another drink and they get talking. Any other day, Bucky would have made an effort to flirt, but he’s too tired to even try. He even says as much, when Tony seems bewildered at Bucky’s lack of response to his flirting. Without really meaning to, Bucky ends up spilling his life’s story to this virtual stranger, which feels both good and extremely embarrassing. The best part is that Tony genuinely listens, his face growing more and more solemn the more he hears. He asks questions, too, clearly appalled to hear that Bucky is going to kicked out tomorrow.

Tony is clearly too rich to have ever known someone who qualifies to get exiled.

Bucky shows his prosthetic and explains he can’t get a job because of it and, unless someone is willing to marry him within the next eight or nine hours, there’s just nothing to do about it. He tries to smile, but it’s not a very comforting smile.

He knows he’s going to die. He has come to terms with it, no matter how much it hurts. Tony, apparently, has other plans.

He proposes.

Bucky laughs it off at first, assuming it’s a joke, but Tony shakes his head and just repeats the question. Bucky isn’t sure how to react, but, for some reason, what he ends up doing is listing all the reasons why Tony shouldn’t marry him. Tony just smiles and adds some of his own— the fact that he’s already engaged to be married to someone named Sunset Bain (the name tickles at the back of Bucky’s memory but he can’t quite place it), is expected to produce heirs at some point, and would probably give his mentor a heartattack if he suddenly showed up married — but says they don’t matter. 

Bucky argues that they do— divorce isn’t an option. Tony will be stuck with Bucky for life if they get married and he shouldn’t have to do that just to save Bucky’s life. 

Tony argues that there is no better reason. In their day and age, most marriages are arranged anyway, aided by the state and their algorithms and research, and Tony would much rather do something useful with his marriage— like giving Bucky another chance at life.

Besides, they seem to like each other well enough— more than Tony likes his actual fiancée. Bucky might actually be doing Tony a favour by marrying him. They can work out the details later.

It’s not like they’re expected to love each other, but they can make it work.

It takes a lot of arguing before Bucky eventually agrees. Mostly because he realises that he’s being an idiot, saying no to the one thing that can save him from certain death. Steve would never forgive him if he didn’t try.

And that’s how Bucky finds himself at the registration office just before closing, waiting for Steve and Peggy to arrive and serve as witnesses, while his future husband is bribing the clerk to allow their marriage to pass. According to whatever algorithm that decides compatability, they’re a pretty bad match— Bucky is much too poor— but Tony can apparently bypass that just by showing his identification.

Bucky knows that’s probably a bad sign— or a really good one, he hasn’t quite decided— but it’s also a problem for later.

By the time Peggy and Steve arrive, Bucky has gone past nervous and shock and settled for comfortably numb. Sure, he notices the wide-eyed look on Peggy’s face when her gaze lands on Tony— meaning she probably knows who he is— but Tony has already made them all hurry along with the service before she has time to even open her mouth.

And, just like that, Bucky is married.

He and Tony don’t kiss— Bucky is much too awkward for something like that— but Tony gives him a warm, comforting smile and squeezes his hand, and that’s not so bad, either, all things considered.

Then, of course, Peggy asks if Bucky intends to change his last name to Stark, which is when Bucky realises that he’s somehow managed to marry Tony Stark— the heir to one of the biggest, most influential companies in their city and as close to royalty as you can get in their day and age. It’s a bit of a shock, but it’s too late for regrets.

For all intents and purposes, he is now married to Tony Stark.

Bucky has no doubt that he’s going to have an incredibly interesting life from then on out.

—

Aaaand we better end it here. But there’s of course a lot more to be told, like how Bucky and Tony try to fit into each other’s lives and get used to their impulse marriage (and, of course, slowly but surely fall in love for real), plus intrigue caused by Tony’s decision to suddenly break his arranged marriage. You can even throw in Obie and him trying to take over the company, which will be A LOT harder with Bucky there— an experienced, well-trained soldier who is often underestimated just because he happens to have a prosthetic.

It could be a pretty epic story, if you ask me, with politics, action, and a slow burn like you wouldn’t believe.

But this is all you’ll get, at least for now. I hope you like it ;)

[thestovetops]

Shrunkyclunks

The Roommate by layersofart (layersofsilence), Niitza (T)

 In which Steven G. Rogers, a.k.a. Captain America, gets a roommate. Who rapidly turns into his “roommate"—in the euphemistic sense of the word.

 It takes SHIELD and the rest of the Avengers an absurd amount of time to notice. 

Easy Work For Easy Pay by AustinB (M) 

Bucky’s working his way back up through the ranks at S.H.I.E.L.D. after a mission took his left arm and Stark gave him a new metal one.

So when Fury tasks him with integrating the newly defrosted Captain Rogers into the 21st century, he jumps at the promotion.

Side bitch out of your league by rohkeutta (T)

“I tried to call Sam,” Captain America says, bewildered. He’s sprinting like Usain Bolt and doesn’t sound even a little out of breath. Fucker. “Who’re you?”

“Someone who’s watching you live on TV,” Bucky tells him as the tiny patriotic figure on the screen takes the turns like he instructed. Bucky should probably be a lot more freaked out about this, but honestly? After a tour in the Middle East and six years as a nurse in New York, even this isn’t enough to ruffle him. One sees a lot of shit in the ER. “Also, you better hang up now, that thing is behind the next bend.” 

“Uh, okay,” Captain America says. “Thanks?”

“Whatever,” Bucky says, disconnects the call and turns the TV off to get ready for his shift.

Save a Horse, Ride a Captain by galwednesday (T)

Bucky tapped him on the shoulder, swaying back and forth a little as he waited for the man to turn around. “Hello,” he said, and then promptly forgot what else he was going to say, because this guy was fucking beautiful. “Wow. Good face.”

Two of the guy’s friends, a man wearing a suit that fit so well it had to be bespoke and a man with a cute little gap between his front teeth, started cracking up. The petite redhead sitting next to them cocked her head to the side and pulled her phone out of her handbag. Beautiful Face just looked kind of pained, so Bucky redirected. He was a gentleman. He could take a hint. No hitting on beautiful guys who were uncomfortable with that sort of thing, no matter how lickable their jawlines were.

“Hello,” he repeated, doing his best to mind his manners. “I’m very sorry to bother you. Can I have a piggy-back ride?”

#TweetMeDaddy by StarSpangled (Senforza) (T)

Coulson, for his part, stares up at Bucky with such a betrayed look of frozen horror that Natasha actually goes the extra step and presses another button, capturing the moment and airdropping the photograph to her phone for posterity. When he speaks, his voice comes out as a hoarse whisper. “Why…?” He swallows and starts again, trying for some semblance of normality. “…Why would you tweet something like that?!”

“If you must know, sir,” and somehow he manages to make ‘sir’ come out with the same inflection most people reserve for ‘motherfucking son of a bitch’, “it’s because I have a difficult time doing my job when my job involves monitoring the man with the best fucking ass in the United States of America.” He slowly lowers himself back into his seat until he’s at eye level, making extreme eye contact with Coulson until Coulson turns away to make mortified eye contact in Natasha’s general direction through the one-way glass. Natasha would take another picture, if she weren’t too busy catching Steve’s red-faced sputtering. “Sometimes, I vent to my Twitter followers. Sometimes, it’s about hot men with washboard abs. Can I go now, or do you need a graphic description of how I pleasure myself at night?”

Never Talk to Strangers by mambo (T)

Never Talk to Strangers: or; How a Forgotten Childhood Lesson Led Bucky Barnes to Appreciate Charlie Chaplin, Befriend an A.I., Slip on Soap Bubbles, Be Mistaken for a Succubus, and Try to Woo a Superhero.

Hey, Asshole! A New York City Love story by bunnymaccool (T)

Bucky’s running late for the bus and he’s stuck in line behind some ridiculous shoulder to waist ratio bastard who’s too busy flirting with the baristas to get his frickin’ order in. After he tells the dude off, completely in his rights he feels, the damn oversized puppy-faced ass keeps following him around and trying to apologize. And okay, dude is hot like burnin’, but Bucky just doesn’t have the time or patience for soothing the wounded ego of some gymrat wannabe with an obsession for dressing like he’s hiding from the mob and …. why are you laughing, Sam?

no matter how long the day is (i’ll come home to you) by alby_mangroves, talkplaylove (T)

Steve’s spent an hour along Portobello Road before he sees the paparazzi on the left side of the street, trying to be inconspicuous by a street lamp. He crosses the street and ducks into the first store he sees, tucked behind a screaming red door and under a blue and white striped awning.

He listens, feet planted in front of the door, shoulders tense, as he looks around the shop. Row upon row of books are on the shelves in front of him, the wood creaking under their weight. Behind the counter is a dark haired man wearing a jacket, elbow on the table, stubbled chin on one hand, gloved left hand flipping the pages of a book.

No one follows Steve in.

Or, the one where Captain America travels the world, learns how to be Steve Rogers again, and meets Bucky Barnes along the way. Also: the one where two old souls fall in love over young adult books, long distance calls, and texting at strange hours of the day.

Stevus Interruptus by GoodbyeBlues (T)

“What the fuck is happening out there?” He shouted into his comm.

“Sarge, I think,” Dugan’s voice paused in his ear. “I think Captain America is here?”

Bucky Barnes is a SWAT Team member just trying to do his job. Too bad a certain Captain keeps interrupting all of his missions.

 turn me up when you feel low  by faerietell (T)

Steve Rogers is a man out of time, in a city that used to be his home, a city he no longer recognizes. Through charming radio host, Bucky Barnes, he relearns his city, adopts a dog, and falls in love.

[writings-of-a-british-fangirl]

The Avengers Spending The Holidays With You Would Involve...

The Avengers spending the holidays with you would involve:

Steve Rogers x Reader-

Steve both loves and hate the holiday season- mostly because he has bittersweet memories of how he used to spend Christmas as a child, and how the people he used to spend time with are no longer around. 

But, also he enjoys making new memories with you.

He’d lowkey spoil you, even though you would tell him not to buy you loads of gifts.

You’d listen to stories of Steve’s past Christmas and follow some of his traditions that he use to do- and you’d also teach him some new holiday traditions to bring him into the modern festive spirit.

Their gift to you: Steve buys you a locket and you of course immediately add a picture of you and Steve inside.

Your gift to them: You buy him a new sketch pad and pen set, because despite the fact he says his old note pad isn’t falling apart, it is.

Tony Stark x Reader-

Without a doubt, Tony is always up for a party- and Christmas is of course no exception. 

Every year that you’ve been with him, he’s dedicated Christmas Eve to just the two of you; he’ll happily spend the whole day with you and do whatever you want to do. You love the attention he gives you and its a nice break from your busy schedule.

However, on Christmas day, the true party begins.

The party he throws is wild, and full to the brim with everyone you know and love- loud music, lots of food and of course loads of drink.

Their gift to you: Tony gets you this year, a ring. After everything that happened, he wants you in his life forever- and what’s more romantic than a festive proposal?

Your gift to them: It’s always difficult buying for a man that has everything, so you decided not to buy him something- but instead, make him something. The scrapbook you piece together actually makes him cry.

Thor Odinson x Reader-

With Thor not being from Earth, he can have some trouble understanding the holiday period, but he is willing to learn everything from you- in fact, he quite enjoys it.

You think it's quite adorable that he’s so excited about it all- but Thor’s favourite part of this time of year is the food.

It isn’t quite a banquet on Asgard, but he could eat your cooking every second of every day; he especially loves all the puddings and he secretly admitted to you that they’re better than pop tarts.

Thor even helps you through the most stressful part of the festive season: present shopping.

Their gift to you: Thor buys you a necklace with the constellations inscribed into it from the night you met.

Your gift to him: You buy him basically a whole new wardrobe- his midgardian style isn’t definitely lacking and you help fix that.

Bruce Banner x Reader-

Needless to say, Bruce is quite a shy and private person, so he doesn’t exactly like large social gatherings at Christmas, but for you he attends.

On any other day, Bruce would prefer a moderate lay in, but you won’t let that happen because its Christmas! And, because you love spoiling Bruce, you always have his present ready when he wakes up.

Your boyfriend has great trouble picking a perfect present for you; you deserve the world and he is determined to give it to you.

Taking a break from the rest of the Avengers towards the end of Christmas day and relaxing in yours and Bruce’s room and snuggling with each other.

Their gift to you: Bruce buys you a copy of your favourite book, 1st edition; and signed by the author. 

Your gift to them: You give Bruce tickets to go on a luxury holiday, as you decided your boyfriend deserved a well earned rest.

Natasha Romanoff x Reader-

Despite her toughened exterior, Natasha is honestly a softie when it comes to the holidays.

One of her favourite ways to spend December with you is snuggled in bed watching cheesy Christmas movies. While she usually doesn’t appreciate food in the bed (crumbs), Tasha makes an exception for Christmas.

You also have a tradition of going away for a short break just before Christmas, usually a city break to get away from the stress of both of your lives; your favourite place to go is Budapest.

Natasha is a romantic at heart and also carefully selects your presents.

Their gift to you: Natasha buys you a new bottle of perfume that your mother used to wear when you were younger; it reminds you of home even though it's so far away.

Your gift to them: You get Natasha and yourself matching charm bracelets, with a pendant for each year you’ve known each other.

Clint Barton x Reader-

Clint can sometimes be as excitable as a child, and you love to do all the silly things you can at Christmas.

One of the things Clint and yourself have started doing around winter is going to ice rinks and trying your best to skate around without falling over; you go for hot chocolate after to mend any egos or physical wounds.

Your boyfriend is actually an amazing gift giver and you’re 99% sure he can read minds- that or he goes to Natasha and begs for her help with picking a present.

He swears he doesn’t go to Tasha, so every year you are left in awe at how perfectly he picks your present.

Their gift to you: Despite the fact you never mentioned it to him, he bought you a vinyl record player and your favourite albums on vinyl.

Your gift to them: You know its cheesy but you bought him a custom quiver, with the help of Tony who made it very high tech. It also has his initials inscribed on it.

Sam Wilson x Reader-

Despite Sam being a bit of a flirt, after he gets into a relationship with you, he is completely in love and wants to spend every moment he can with you- the holidays are no different.

You always joke with Sam about the fact that you are his present for Christmas- but this year you took the teasing to a whole new level by getting festive themed lingerie and surprising Sam with it after he comes back from a mission.

Sam loves it more than you’d expected and Christmas certainly was memorable.

But, besides that, Sam is a big romantic and loves to spoil you with gifts and surprises at Christmas.

Their gift to you: Sam treats you to an all expenses paid trip to a spa for a relaxing weekend.

Your gift to them: It was originally intended as a joke, but you got him a necklace with a falcon on it- Sam ended up loving it as wears it most days.

Peter Parker x Reader-

Peter loves Christmas and it’s his first Christmas where he’s had a S/O (significant other) so he intends to spoil you rotten.

Although he’s just a student, and has a student budget for your Christmas presents, he still wants to do everything he can to give the world- and you appreciate every effort he goes to, no matter how small.

He is very nervous about spoiling Christmas with you, so he goes to everyone he can to get advice- Aunt May, Ned, Tony and even MJ... They all give him conflicting advice, but in the end he just goes with his heart and hopes for the best.

You see how nervous Peter is, so you suggest instead of doing something fancy like going out for a meal, you stay in on Christmas Eve and watch films on the sofa. He enjoys that a lot more.

Their gift to you: Peter gets you tickets to see your favourite band in concert and promises to buy you whatever merch you want.

Your gift to them: You get tickets to go to the largest science convention in the US because you want to indulge Peter’s nerdy side.

Wanda Maximoff x Reader-

Although Wanda doesn’t celebrate Christmas*, she does like to indulge in some of the non religious traditions of winter- like festive hot drinks, baking cookies with you and participating in snowball fights.

She experiences her first white Christmas with you and she loves the snow more than she thought she would.

You both run out (after wrapping up in many layers) into the snow and begin having a snow ball fight which slowly descends into making snow angels and snow men.

Afterwards you head back inside, drink some hot chocolate and warm up on the sofa with a thick blanket over the two of you.

Their gift to you: It was an impulsive gift, but you end up adoring the idea: Wanda books you in to get matching tattoos. They turn out spectacular.

Your gift to them: You give her a key to your apartment. It symbolises a big step forward in your relationship; things are definitely getting more serious.

Bucky Barnes x Reader-

Ironically enough, the Winter Soldier has missed out on quite a few Christmases over the years as a Hydra captive and you intend to make up for every one of the holidays he missed.

He does, like Steve, have conflicted feelings about Christmas as he can never quite experience the Christmases he had back in the 40s, but he does love how festive you make him feel. You manage to crack the cold exterior of the Winter Soldier.

For once, Bucky sleeps in on Christmas morning- usually on missions, he never gets to rest, and despite it being Christmas, you can’t bare to wake him up because he’s so peaceful.

When he wakes up, you are snuggled to his side and he already knows that he has the greatest present he could ever receive: you.

Their gift to you: Bucky use to know how to charm a dame with classic gifts like roses and chocolates, and while times haven’t changed that much, he wants to do something special for you so he gets you a new camera so that you pursue your love of photography. And the polaroids you take of you and him are admittedly adorable.

Your gift to them: For Christmas, you repaint Bucky’s arm with colour patterns and memories about you, Steve and the others. He really appreciates the small gesture and knows from that moment you’re the doll for him.

Loki Laufeyson x Reader-

Loki doesn’t understand Christmas, and if it wasn’t for you, he probably would have never tried to understand it; Thor has tried to explain Midgardian customs to him many a time, but you’re the only one that he listens to.

If he’s being honest, he only goes along with holiday traditions because he loves to see your face light up with your gorgeous smile.

Loki prefers holidays like Halloween and April Fools, but he does like the gift giving part of Christmas as well as all the excuses he gets to hold you close in the cold weather.

You’re jealous of him because, as a Frost Giant, he doesn’t mind the cold at all, but he loves it because he gets to spend more time with you out in the snow, seeing your face sparkle in a winter wonderland.

Their gift to you: Loki has a custom made dress created for you- it's beautiful and spares not expensive. And, its of course in green.

Your gift to them: Despite not liking the Collector, thanks to him you acquire some rare Asgardian magic books for Loki

[Let me know if you want me to continue this with any other Marvel/Avenger characters]

* Scarlet Witch is half ethnically Jewish

[xxmadsxoxo]

How to get on Santa’s nice list.

{Part Six}

Pairing: Buck Barnes x Reader

Pre warning: Fluff, Fluff, and some more fluff

Warnings: Swearing, Bucky, alcohol, loss of clothing and probably bad punctuation because I’m using my phone.

Summary: you moved in with your best friends apartment around 3 years ago, and found out she has one hot neighbor. Only problem is he is a huge smart mouth, and he always has jokes. Worst thing of all is he is a huge flirt, the boy could make your face warm up with a look. One day he gave you a snarky comment (to no surprise.) but you decided in spirit of the holiday to challenge him. No, smart mouth, or dirty jokes for the rest of November lets see if he can get on Santa’s nice list.

Here’s part 5

This is for (@lovelynemesis) Sam’s rockin’ around the Christmas tree writing challenge!

11:22am

You’d think time would have gone fast, considering I watched cat videos with my headphones. That was not the case, time went by 100% slower than I thought. Everyone slowly started showing up 15 minutes ago, and the only person tony is waiting on is Bucky and Steve. I’ll get drinks while they wait. “Anyone want a drink?” Nat looks up and says she wants a water, sam, and Wanda say the same. Thor, Clint, and Bruce want coffee. I already have creamer and sugars for them to do it their own way. “Alrighty I’ll be right back.”

____

After I get to the conference room Steve, and Bucky walk out of the elevator. I set the last cup of coffee down, before the super soilders walk in. “Well it’s about time boys. Any drinks for ether one of you?” Steve sits next to Sam, and Bucky sits next to Vision and Thor. “I’ll take a coffe doll.” My face warms up a bit, and I try to fight a smile. I didn’t expect him to use that nickname in front of everyone, and knowing how he uses it makes it 100x worse. “I’ll just have a water Hun.” Steve nods at me with a warm smile.

I walk to the elevator, and wait for it to come down. Just as it opens, out walks Rhodes, and Ms. Potts I step back instantly so I’m not in their way. “Oh hey, y/n right?” Jim asks, as pepper looks back and forth between us confused as to why she doesn’t know me. I nod “Yes, that would be me.” I smile, and Rhodes explains “Tony’s been blabbing my ear off for two days about a new assistant, it’s nice to finally put a face to the name.” I chuckle a bit, and smile at my feet.

“Well I’m reall happy to be working here. Before you run off, do you guys want any drinks?” Pepper shakes her head and starts walking off, and Rhodes looks at me with an apologetic smile. “She’s probably a bit upset, because Tony isn’t really supposed to hire anyone without her thoughts.” “Ohhhh.” He looks to the room, and back at me. “She’ll be alright, she probably will talk more with you though.” I nod in understanding. “Alrighty well could I get you a drink?” He walks backwards to the room, and points at me. “A coffee would be great, thank you.” I point back at him with a stupid smile. “No problem I’ll be right back.”

_____

After a second trip, I finally can sit and listen. I’m a fairly patient person so I won’t mind doing this more often. I look from the board to the group, and spot Bucky looking at my…legs? He looks up and figures out I caught him, immediately looking at the pages in front of him like he wasn’t doing anything. I smile, and look back at the board. I guess a skirt was a good choice.

It’s about 12 and tony only just finished mission reports, he still has to explain the next mission plan. I start getting uncomfortable from sitting in the same position, so I stand. While I’m up everyone with coffe lifts their cup. I head upstairs for the third time, and pour more coffee. Bringing them all down on a tray, reminds of me of when I was a waitress in my shitty hometown. Except now I’m serving coffee to super hero’s, and not 95 year old men trying to hit on me. Well Bucky and Steve can be in that category, but hey they don’t look 90 and their teeth are perfect.

Opening the conference room door, nobody looking away from the board or their papers. I give Banner and Barton their coffee Rhodes, and Barnes, I bend over to reach past Thor so I could set his coffee down withought spilling it. As I stand up I look at Bucky, and he was definitely looking at my ass, because he jerks his head back toward the board as I stand straight. He is checking me out shamelessly, and I don’t understand why all the sudden.

___________

1:30pm

Everyone is saying their goodbyes, and Buck is the last one to go. Tony touches my shoulder to get my attention “Meet me in the lab?” I smile back at him. “Sure thing Mr. Stark.” As he’s walking out the door he stops “Oh and just Tony is fine.” He walks out and steps into the elevator. Bucky stacks all his papers and rolls them up stuffing them inside his coat pocket. “So how are you liking the job doll?” I walk to the table grabbing the empty water bottles. “It’s pretty great, Tony isn’t as bossy as I thought he’d be.” I bend over the table to grab a couple of the empty coffee cups as well. I swear I heard buck groan, but it could have been my imagination. “Maybe you need someone to boss you around.” I scoff looking at him. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” He looks at me with wide eyes. “Oh god, I didn’t mean for that to come out.” He looks at the floor and back at me “…to come out like that I mean.” I stand tall with my hands on my hips “So how do you mean for it to come out?” He leans on the chair taking too long to answer. “I knew it, I knew you would think this wasn’t a real job. I just wanted your support, but it seems that’s too hard for you.” I stomp out of the conference room and head down to the lab.

_________

2:12pm

When tony said he needed my help, what he actually meant was I need to you to sit in my lab until I need a fire extinguisher. Apparently the last person on that job wasn’t too great. I only had to put out two fires so far, small panic attacks included.

“Alright Ms.Y/n you’re free to go. I’m done in here for the day, well with possible fire starting things.” He laughs a bit before setting things back in it’s place. “Alrighty, I’m gonna head home than. You sure you don’t need me for anything else?” Tony shakes his head “Nope I think that’s all, see you tomorrow?” I smile and put my hands in my jacket pockets. “Absolutely, I’ll see you then.” I head out with a wave goodbye.

________

I didn’t realize how tired I was until I got out of my shoes and onto the couch. I could pass out right now, but Instead Bucky walks in. “Nat!” I sit up groaning. “She’s not here.” I look at him with a squint “Oh y/n I didn’t know you were laying there. Sorry.” He walks towards the couch. “Where is she than?” I shake my head “I have no idea, I thought she was still at Tony’s.” He nods, and pats my shoulder. “Alright than, sorry I woke ya doll.” He closes the door and I whip a pillow at it. Who does that bastard think he is? First he says I need to be bossed around, like I’m not good at my job without it? After checking me out all day I might add. Then he disturbs my almost nap? What the hell has gotten into him? I turn on the tv, and watch some Charmed before I fell asleep on the couch once more. No disturbances.

__________

5:43pm

Woken up by a phone call.

“Hello?” I say half asleep.

“Hey Y/n it’s Tony, it turns out I’m gonna need you here tonight.” He coughs away from the phone. “Is that alright?”

I sit up, and rub my eyes. “Yeah that’s fine Mr. Stark. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” Running into my room I grab my brush and some clothes, brushing my hair and putting it back so it’s out of my face. I put on my favorite Minnie Mouse sweater, the old black and white Minnie Mouse. I throw on my favorite black sweats, and I head out the house with my phone and my keys. A cab picks me up, and I’m off.

_________

6:16pm

I run into the elevator, and wait to get to the conference floor. Tony is waiting in there with a stack of papers on his desk. I walk in with a smile. “Hey, sorry it took me so long traffic was terrible.” Tony stands up and smiles back at me. “Oh it’s alright, I hate driving in the city for that reason.” He stacks more papers into the pile “I just need you to carry this up to the living qaurters, and put it in the kitchen counter. I’ll be following you with these.” He holds up two boxes, that look really light compared to the papers.

We finally get to the kitchen and I set them on counter, he sets the boxes next to them. He grabs my arm. “Come with me Hun.” He walks me towards what looks like a living room, and as he flicks on the lights everyone jumps up yelling. “Congratulations!” I jump only slightly, and smile. “What’s all this?” Tony laughs “We just wanted to welcome you to the family, we’ve all known you for quite sometime and now you’re a part of us.” I chuckle “I don’t know about all that, I’m just here to make sure you all have your beverages.” Sam throws his hand up and down real quick to catch my attention “Which speaking of, y/n can you get me a water ?” Everyone laughs and Bucky nudges him earning a look from Sam. “Only kiddin’ girl!”

Nat walks up with two bottles, one being tequila, and the other being vodka. “Pick your poison darling.” I smile, and grab the tequila. “Well you know, you can never go wrong with some josé cuervo.” I say before opening her up. “Who wants in?” I yell in hopes everyone plans on drinking. Everyone runs up with shot glasses in hand, I pour a shot for everyone. “To y/n!” Bucky yells, and everyone repeats as I smile like an idiot. We all clink, and throw it back. Everyone goes for the bowl of limes, and I smile. This has gotta be the most fun I’ve had all week.

____

8:45pm

I get drunk pretty quick considering I didn’t really eat or drink much all day, which reminds me I should really have some water or something before I die of thirst. I go to stand but my legs fail me, I prepare myself to come into contact with the floor but it doesn’t come. Bucky caught me before I could fall, and he smiles standing me straight. “You alright there doll?” How the hell isn’t he drunk? “I’m-I’m pre-pretty great…Barnes.” I hiccup a couple times, before Bucky helps me sit back down. “I’m gonna get you some water, I’ll be right back.” Everyone’s having a blast, they’ve been having talks about Asgard, and the wonders of super soldier serum. Which brings out Natasha’s need for answers to her curiostiy. Bucky walks in with the water bottle and sits next to me to make sure I don’t spill it. I take a big gulp or two, and he puts the cap back on. Nat looks over at us and smiles.

“Hey Barnes you should be a part of this one.”

He raises his eyebrows. “Oh is that so?”

She wiggles hers. “Yeah, what does the super soldier serum do for you?”

He smiles, and blushes a bit. “It keeps me strong, and steady. Also I’m unable to get drunk, so that’s unfortunate.”

Nat smiles. “I bet it does good things for you in bed too.” Wanda laughs, and the boys all ohh, and whistle. Laughter holds over the room for a moment before Bucky answers. “Well I wouldn’t know, haven’t exactly been on a date if you get my point.” Thor waves his hammer before asking. “Wait, so you and y/n haven’t done anything?” I scoff and say way too loudly. “No, but I wish we would.” Everyone kind of shuts up, and stares at me for a second. Bucky stands up, Nat does as well. She helps me up with Buck before she says “Time for you to go home. Thanks Tony, thanks you guys.” Her goodbyes go quickly, as I yell they lug me away from the group “Thanks y-y-you guys! Have a..goo-goodnight!”

——————

10:56pm

Bucky helps me into bed. “Waaait buck, I gotta take offs my clothes, I can’t sleep with sw- sweats.. an-and a sweater.” Bucky holds my arms “Doll you can take off your clothes when I leave the room okay?” I shake my head and pout. “Whyy, where’s Nat?” Bucky shakes his head trying not to smile. “She went to bed.” He try’s to take off my headband, but I keep pulling away. “I need help getting out of my clothes Buck.” He stops, and looks at me with many thoughts going through his mind. “Doll are you sure you can’t get it yourself..?” I nod, and attempt to pull off my sweater, but I’m like a limp noodle how I’m sitting up right now is beyond me.

“Alright, I’ll help you.” He moves the covers off me, and takes off my pants. I giggle a bit, and he comes back up helping me out of my sweater. I smile “Thanks buucckyy.” He smiles back at me as he covers me up again. Just as he’s about to walk away, I grab his arm. “Wait I can’t sleep with a bra on.” He looks at me, and closes his eyes. He sighs, and opens it from behind taking it off all the way. I cover up as best I can. “Okay, Goodnight Doll.” I smile real big, and hold his hand. “Do I get a goodnight kiss?” He bends down and kisses my forehead. “Sweet dreams love.” He walks to the door “Goodnight Buck.” He shuts off the light, and shuts the door.

_________________

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Part 7 will be up soon! I’m not sure if that will be the last one or not. Maybe part 8 will be. I hope you guys are liking it so far, and if you wanna be in the tag list just comment or leave me an ask! Xoxo

Tag List: @starkxpotts @ailynalonso15 @boyzines @buckysforeverprincess @of-rin-and-carlile @isnt-the-blog-youre-looking-for @libbymouse