#tattoo artist!Bucky | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

fictionismyreality3 · 1 year ago

Text

Hold Still

Tattoo Artist!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Tags: Tattoo Artist!Bucky, innocent!reader if you squint, sorta mutual pining, comfort, fluff

Warnings: tattoos and everything that comes with them

Word Count: 3k

Notes: EEEEEE this is my first oneshot on this blog 🥳 as always not really proofread im not sorry 🤓 I wanted to add like grumpy x sunshine underlines and BARK BARk tattoo artist Bucky 😩🙏🏻 Peace out my homies ✌🏻

The sound of your shoe tapping against the checkered linoleum floor tile filled the waiting room of "Brooklyn's Best Tattoos". It was raining outside and the streets were quiet aside from the occasional horn of an angry driver or a street seller trying to get their final deals for the day. Your bright yellow umbrella stood out against the walls of chipped black paint and a smokey atmosphere.

You kept your gaze flitting about the room, landing on the magazines on a coffee table and stickers placed haphazardly across various furniture. The few people sitting across from you reflected the vibe of the tattoo shop perfectly. Darkly eccentric clothes, skin painted with ink, and a tired look to their eyes.

When you had booked this tattoo appointment you didn't know what to expect. And now, sitting with an awkward stiffness in the hardbacked waiting room chair, you began to question your decision. How embarrassing would it be if you just got up and left? Surely you could get a refund?

It had been 3 months since your Grandpa Henry had passed away, and you didn't want his existence to be some fleeting memory, you had to get something permanent for him. You had been planning on getting some art commission to hang up in your apartment, but that fantasy was quickly dashed by your rather thin wallet.

Even though it was a leap in your confidence, you settled on getting a tattoo. For the past few weeks, the nerves have been building up as you spent your free time researching tattoo shops and what a tattoo would even feel like.

The idea of having your skin permanently marked by something that could end up horrible to look at was more than a bit troubling. That's why you settled on something small and somewhere inconsequential. Sorry Grandpa, but you're going to have to be content out of the spotlight.

Calling the shop was the easy part. It was effortless to talk to the nice lady on the phone about your ideas and listen to her babble on about the latest news. But, now that you were sitting in the waiting room, anticipating the pain of the needles that were soon to be in your skin, you couldn't help but squirm in your seat.

You were quickly pulled out of your thoughts as a woman with tawny skin and bright, neon-pink hair came into the waiting room and called over another young woman to follow her. They walked into the back, or wherever they kept the tattoo rooms, and you noticed with a sigh the ease at which the young woman walked towards inevitable pain.

"Are you the 6 o'clock?" A familiar voice broke through your haze of thoughts. You vaguely placed it as the woman you spoke to on the phone when you booked you an appointment.

Scanning her over, you took in her friendly smile and ostentatious (and probably fake) jewelry, putting a face to the voice. "Yeah, that's me." You answered after a second.

She smiled brightly. She had an almost motherly look to her and a warm and comforting demeanour. Looking around at the peeling linoleum floor, the sticker-covered walls, and the various riff-raff who were inking memories and stories onto their skin, you had a passing thought that she was like the empress of the little tattoo parlour. Her beads and glued-on rhinestones would make a marvellous crown.

You had a quick discussion about price and confirmed what you were getting and then she led you down a short hallway and into a room. As you broke the threshold your ears were filled with 40s music and the soft, low sound of a man humming along. Your eyes drifted over to the source of the voice, who soon spun his stool around to reveal an alarmingly handsome face. Bright blue eyes met yours and your heart did a little somersault in your chest.

"Don't you worry, baby. This is Bucky, he'll take real good care of you." She patted your back and drifted back out of the room, her ebony skin disappearing down the hallway and out of view. As you stood awkwardly near the door, your gaze took in the rest of the room. It was dark and moody, and you figured that each artist must get to decorate their studio to their liking. The cart holding the ink, needles and other supplies stood next to one of those lay-down chairs that the person getting tattooed sits in. The man, Bucky, was already looking at you when you met his gaze again.

"Nervous, huh?" He chuckled lowly.

Your cheeks lit up in a hot blush as you were suddenly aware of how long you had been spacing out. "This is my first tattoo. Why? Was it that obvious?" You asked.

"Pretty obvious, yeah. S'okay. Why don't you sit down for me?" He grinned.

Ignoring the way his voice was like butter, you hopped up on the chair in the middle of the room. The leather was soft against your skin and you traced the tiny cracks in the fabric with your fingers, thinking about how many people had sat there before you. Rolling his stool over to the side of your chair, he grabbed a sketchbook from the cart next to you.

"So, what are you thinking of?" He asked casually as his eyes focused on you.

"I wanted to get an anchor for my grandpa." As you spoke, you got out your phone, pulling out the inspirational photos you had been endlessly looking over, tilting the screen so he could see. You watched as he scrutinized the photos, his brow furrowed in focus as if he was translating the pixels to ink in his mind.

After a second, he looked back up at you with a lazy grin. "Yeah, I can do that no problem."

He was already reaching over for his pens to start sketching the drawing onto transfer paper, and your eyes followed the careful movements, tracing the ink that covered his arms. There was barely an inch of uncovered skin.

The whole drawing took less than fifteen minutes, and the silence was comfortably filled with Bucky rambling about when he got his first tattoo. His low, slightly raspy voice covered you like a blanket, settling over you and calming your nerves. By the time he was finished with the sketch, you had already begun to warm up to him, making small talk that was somehow not awkward.

As he showed you the final version of the sketch, your nerves were calmed even more. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad. You talked placement and sizing until the time finally came for the sketch to be transferred onto your skin.

"Alright, so.. on your thigh?" He said warmly.

"I read that it was one of the less painful areas." You said as you ran your fingers over your skin which was soon to be filled with ink. You had worn a skirt so that you didn't have to change or lose any modesty. The last thing you wanted was to flash your tattoo artist, especially now that you got one who was incredibly hot.

"Smart girl." He muttered in passing as he prepped the transfer paper.

You were sure it was just a casual expression, but you couldn't fight the way your cheeks flushed at the compliment. No sooner than you had that thought, Bucky had rolled his stool back over to the chair and had the transfer in his hand.

"Can I?" He asked expectantly.

You looked at him confused for a second before you caught up and inched your skirt up so he could transfer the tattoo onto your thigh.

"Right. Sorry." You watched the way he chuckled to himself as he pressed the sketch into your skin. His hands were warm even through the black latex gloves.

He started getting his needles and ink prepared and you fell back into easy conversation. "Why the anchor? Is your 'pops navy or something?" He asked curiously.

"He was, yeah." You said softly.

You didn't miss the way his hands, which were going through the motions of prepping the tattoo gun as if they had done so a million times before, stilled for just a second. His jaw ticked and he cleared his throat and resumed his preparations.

"Sorry for your loss. My family is army." He said quietly after a moment. You took the distraction of his past eagerly, wanting to think of something other than your Grandpa.

"Are you?" You asked carefully.

"I was, yeah. Now I do this." He said and gestured around the room. "You ready?"

Your awareness was suddenly brought back to the impending pain you were about to feel as your eyes locked on the tattoo gun hovering closer and closer to your skin. Your heart rate spiked as a pang of anxiety ran through your chest and your thoughts began to spiral. How long would it take? How much would it hurt? What if it got infected? As if he could sense your suddenly fearful thoughts, Bucky lowered the tattoo gun.

"Hey, it'll be fine. I've been doing this for years and you chose a really small design. It'll be over before you know it." He spoke reassuringly.

With a nod from you, he raised the tattoo gun, one hand on your thigh to steady himself, and made the first line. The pricking pain hit you instantly. It was sharp and stung like you were getting a vaccination or blood drawn. You always had a low pain tolerance, and don't know why that piece of knowledge decided to hide in your brain until now. If you knew it would have hurt this much, maybe you would have changed your mind. A whimper bubbled past your lips embarrassingly. Bucky's eyes darted up to yours, his brows furrowed with a little too much concern for someone you just met.

"Hey, hey, hey.. deep breath. You're okay. That's it…" He cooed soothingly.

You resisted the urge to hide your face in your hands and tried to mimic the way Bucky was breathing. Even though he was actively tattooing you, he kept his hand on your skin, watching your expression carefully. It was big enough to cover the entire width of your thigh. The latex of his glove suddenly felt far too thin. When he was satisfied you reached somewhat of a calmer state, he resumed his work, the needles pricking your skin once more.

"Alright, sweetheart, let's get this done." He muttered, almost to himself.

You closed your eyes to distract yourself, but it only made you more focused on the pain of the tattoo gun. But then the pain was paired with the calming touch of Bucky stroking the skin of your thigh with his steadying hand. Your eyes peeked open to the sight of him focusing, his bottom lip pulled between his teeth in concentration. Well, that's certainly distracting. You were all too aware of the way your skirt was pushed up. Even though it was for the sake of the tattoo, it was beginning to feel far too hot. As if he could feel your eyes on him, Bucky's gaze snapped up to yours and you quickly looked away.

The silence was filled with the quiet buzzing of the tattoo gun and Bucky humming along to the music playing on the radio. You were doing okay. You were gritting your teeth and bearing through it, not wanting to embarrass yourself further in front of your stupidly attractive tattoo artist. But it was late and you were getting tired. The pain was steadily growing from a dull ache into an overwhelming sting. You didn't even realize you were whining until the needles were no longer pricking your skin and Bucky was putting the tattoo gun down.

"Shh, it's okay, princess. We can take a break, yeah?" He said gently.

His hands were on your thighs as he rubbed your skin comfortingly, and you couldn't help but want to whine for a different reason.

"How much longer?" You asked with a wavering voice. Bucky's eyes softened, and he glanced at the half-finished anchor on your thigh and back up to you.

"We're almost done. You ready to get going again?" He asked as he picked up the tattoo gun.

Not trusting your voice, you elected simply to nod. As the pain returned, your nails dug into the leather of the chair, and you wondered if that's where the cracks you saw earlier came from. You knew you were beginning to get shaky, and even though you read about it during your anxious preparation, it was still upsetting. You looked around the room, trying to take your mind off the literal needles that were stabbing into you hundreds of times per second. Maybe you could distract yourself from figuring out the darkly gorgeous man tattooing you.

He kept the lights of the room low, probably to keep people calm, and the posters on the walls were at least nice to look at. There was a pair of dog tags hanging off a lamp on the desk in the corner, and you chalked that up to his army past. There were some plants, but the only one still alive was the cactus on the windowsill. But, you couldn't preoccupy yourself for long. Every time you thought you were getting used to the pain, a new wave of discomfort would hit you, leaving you whimpering in the chair. Your breath was getting a little shallow, and your other leg started bouncing to release some pent-up energy.

Bucky's hand which was comfortingly rubbing the thigh that he was tattooing shot out and grabbed your other leg, his fingers gripping your skin so firmly, the sudden sensation distracted you enough that your squirming stilled.

"Fuck, you gotta hold still, dolly." He rasped. "How 'bout you tell me about your 'pops?"

His voice was strained and you bit your lip to stifle a whimper. Your skirt was pulled up enough that his hand on your non-tattooed leg was high enough to be considered intimate. At least, it certainly felt that way to you. He squeezed your thigh, focusing your attention back on him, before he put it back on the leg he was tattooing.

"Talk, princess. You're almost done." He commanded softly.

The pain was still at the forefront of your mind, but now it was fighting with the heat in your core that was slowly growing.

"Um.. he was a sailor. He.. his name was Henry." You began to recall fond memories of your Grandpa, and the pain of the tattoo slowly faded into a manageable ache.

"That's a good girl. Keep talking, sweetheart." He muttered quietly.

The praise made your breath hitch and the sound that fell from your lips wasn't from pain anymore. The only sign that he noticed your breathy whine was the little smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

"And… all done." He announced.

The buzzing of the tattoo gun ceased and Bucky had already put it down, as if the tattoo never even happened. The only evidence of what you'd struggled through for the last hour was the perfectly executed anchor on your skin and the dull ache of your thigh. Bucky had already moved back over to you and was starting to clean and wrap your leg. His hands brushed the skin of your inner thigh, causing you to suck in a sharp breath, his eyes flickering over to you for a moment. There was that smirk again.

"That's it?" You asked breathlessly.

"That's it. You did so well, princess." He said as he finished wrapping your thigh. After putting his supplies back onto the cart, he pulled your skirt back down almost protectively, his hands lingering a little too long to be professional.

"Here. You even get a lollipop for being such a good girl." He grinned as helped you off the chair, his hand brushing yours as he handed you the candy.

He said the praise so casually, but it still sent your head spinning and your cheeks burning with a dusting of pink.

"Thanks…" You mumbled.

"You can pay at the front. Call us if you have any questions. Be safe, princess." He said as his eyes drifted down to your thigh.

Your heart sank as you kicked yourself for thinking there was even a sliver of attraction that he felt for you. Obviously, the hot tattoo artist must get girls fawning over him all the time, you weren't anything special. Biting back a frown, you nodded and thanked him one more time before heading back up to the front of the store to pay. The friendly babbling of the same dark-skinned woman who had taken you to Bucky's tattoo room went in one ear and out the other. Your head was way too messy to pay attention.

After thanking the staff one more time, you grabbed your umbrella and coat and headed back out into the rainy Brooklyn streets. As you walked back to your apartment, your thoughts endlessly drifting back to Bucky, you pulled the lollipop out of where you'd put it in your pocket. If you couldn't have him, at least you had candy. Just as you were about to mindlessly crumple up the wrapper, you noticed something scrawled in pen on the plastic. It was an address and a phone number.

'Dinner this weekend. Don't be shy, doll.' It read.

You stopped in your tracks in the middle of the sidewalk, ignoring the dirty looks of the pedestrians who nearly walked into you, smiling like an idiot. It wasn't even written as a question and you could hear his low, slightly raspy voice saying the words in your head. The ache in your thigh, the ache in your heart, and even the now permanent marking on your body were all worth it. You had the passing thought that maybe your Grandpa was setting you up from wherever he was.

"Thanks, Grandpa.." You whispered to yourself and walked home with a spring in your step.

#bucky x y/n #bucky x you #bucky fic #bucky fanfic #james bucky buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky x female reader #oneshot #tattoo artist!bucky

235 notes · View notes

ghostlyfleur · 1 year ago

Text

HOW CUTE IS THIS!!!!!!!!!!

i am obsessed already! i absolutely love tattoo artist!bucky and grumpy!bucky, but what i love most is some good old grumpy x sunshine friends to lovers… and this is perfect. i could just picture bucky’s lil grin and i— 😩

just perfect.

𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐞 | 𝐉.𝐁.𝐁

Pairing ✾ Tattoo Artist!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader Word Count ✾ 2.5k Warnings ✾ Swearing, pet names, fluff, mention of alcohol Event ✾ @buckybarnesevents Into an Alternate June-iverse | Ｃ３ - Tattoo AU Author's Note ✾ My very first grumpy x sunshine fic, and it was hella fun! a huge thank you to all those who listened to me deliberate what the hell to do with it, and a huge thank you to @mxaether for the fact checking and guidance - you were a huge help!

Inked Sun Masterlist | June-iverse Masterlist

You were the warmth and light to Bucky’s shadows and brooding nature – a match made in heaven, and it was a miracle that a certain someone realised as much.

The anniversary of 107th Ink was always going to be special, and this one perhaps was one of the biggest years – seven whole years since both Bucky and Stevie had walked through those doors with a dream, a dream that had flourished and blown up with their combined talents and charisma.

In order to celebrate, 107th Ink had announced a surprise flash day. And, as anyone would have expected from the fastest growing tattoo parlour in the area, it was chaos – actually, chaotic was an understatement, and for this very reason, you had parked your car a block away from Bucky’s shop with a box of donuts in one hand and a bottle of Jack Daniels in the other.

You would be a sight for sore, tired eyes, that was for sure.

Bucky’s Harley was parked on the verge, the shining red paint and reflective chrome shone in the light of the setting sun. The many rides you had taken with Bucky on that very bike came to the forefront of your mind, and you smiled fondly at the memories; the time he had taken you down the back roads for a picnic after you had finally convinced him to put his machine down, or that time that he took you down the highway, resting his hand on yours that had looped tightly around his middle.

You and Bucky had been friends for years – he was certainly by far the gruffest and honest to god most intimidating man you had ever met, but somehow, he softened around you. Ever since Natasha had introduced you to him, you had felt an instant connection to the infamous brooding vet, and it left the two of you on a path you had no idea how to navigate. It was becoming difficult to ignore the butterflies that crowded your entire being when he flashed you a rare smile, or called you his Sunshine.

But that was a thought for another day – Bucky needed his Jacks and Stevie would need his donuts, not to mention Nat and Peter squirrelling away what they could of either offering.

And, after your own intense and exhausting day with work and clients, you had to admit, it would be nice to see your friends.

The door to the shop swung open with a clink of the bell, and you took in the scene. Bucky’s interior design choices screamed Rock’n’Roll with guitars lining the walls, all in various states of artistic liberty of designs and signatures. Def Leppard’s Pour Some Sugar On Me played quietly over the hustle and bustle, a constant background noise amongst the many conversations held between artists and clients you could only just hear. Soft lighting illuminated the entry and reception where black leather couches were placed cosily – no clients were lazing about so you suspected they were all in the booths. The shining tiled floor reflected the reds of the walls and the mahogany oak accents like it was freshly polished.

Bucky’s standards of professionalism and cleanliness were high, and hell hath no fury for anyone that compromised them.

“Hey, Sunshine!” A bright voice called from an open door – Peter’s booth, and you looked over to see the aforementioned excited apprentice poking his head out. “God, you’re a sight for sore eyes-” You stifled a laugh, smiling instead. “Bucky is just over there,” Peter said, gesturing towards a closed door. “He’ll be out soon, nervous client.”

“Thanks, Pete,” you said, and he grinned at you and the donuts in your hand before disappearing back into the booth.

As expected, time passed slowly and you watched while a couple of clients milled out of the booths – Stevie’s, Nat’s and Peter’s. You caught sight of Stevie and Nat occasionally, and they spared you an excited wave or smile when they could – their gazes drifting to the treats you had brought with you.

The sun had set by the time Bucky’s booth had any sign of movement. His door opened and a timid young woman appeared in the doorway – she was speaking over her shoulder and once she glanced towards the couches, you gave her a soft smile and she walked past you to Peter at the front desk to pay.

Peter greeted her happily and began the process of the transaction, but heavy boot falls in the booth made your gaze snap towards the source, smiling wide at finding Bucky leaning against the frame, arms crossed so his tattoos rippled and moved with the corded muscle. He was staring at you with a blank expression, null and void of any tells, though there was a glimmer of happiness in his eyes that filled your heart and fuelled the butterflies to a dull roar.

“Hey.”

“Hey, you!” You rushed, getting to your feet just as the young woman left the shop. As soon as she was out the door, there was a collective exhale of breath in relief. “Tough day?”

“What gave it away, Sunny?” Steve groaned as he stood in the doorway of his own booth, rubbing his face and mussing his hair and neatly trimmed beard. “It seemed that flash day means all the tough clients come outta the woods at once.”

“Speak for yourself,” Nat piped up, stretching to the ceiling and cracking her back. The burgundy leather jacket she wore gleamed in the low light while it complemented her creeping neck tattoos. “I had all the sweet ones then.”

“Yeah, because you intimidate the shit out of ‘em, Nat,” Bucky said, a brow raised in challenge. Nat only shrugged, a coy grin on her blood red lips.

“Today was fun though,” Peter yawned, and you watched as Bucky and Steve rolled their eyes in unison.

“Trust the apprentice to be all rainbows and shit,” Bucky mumbled. “Let’s close up for the night. I wanna go home.”

Everyone left the reception in favour of returning to their booths, and you followed behind Bucky, bottle of Jacks in hand. The donuts lay on the table amongst the neatly stacked portfolios for later – that’s if Steve and Nat didn’t run off with them before you could walk out the door.

“How are you feeling, Buck?” You asked, watching as he flexed his left arm and clenched his hand in a fist before releasing it with a wince. “Are you alright?”

Bucky looked over at you and nodded once. “‘M fine, sweetheart,” he said softly while he cleaned up the tray of ink caps and the rest of his station. “How’re you doing?”

“I’m good,” you said, maybe a little too quick, because Bucky’s gaze snapped up and he narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “I’m being honest-”

Slowly, Bucky stepped around from his cart and came to stand right in front of you, his gaze heavy with that critical eye and his habit for problem solving. “No, you’re not, Sunshine.”

Damn it, you cursed in your head, and it must have traitorously flickered across your expression because Bucky hesitated only slightly before his arms suddenly enveloped you and pulled you against his chest. The sudden movement forced a quiet, “oof!” from your lips before you could bite it back – though the feeling of him holding you, as rare as it was, was never unwelcome.

“I know you like hugs, sweetheart,” Bucky whispered, his voice just a low rumble in his chest. “Jus’ lemme hold you for a minute, alright?”

Your heart seized and tears burned in the corner of your eyes at his words. Bucky held you so tightly and you were forced to loop your arms around his middle while you rested your cheek on his shoulder – it was indescribable.

Touch was not something Bucky gave freely – sure, it was his job to touch and manipulate and move clients, but it never meant anything more than him just doing his job. He never initiated a hug to Nat, Steve, or even Peter, it was something entirely off the table for him, though here he was, pushing past what he would normally be comfortable with and initiating such a tender embrace to you.

“Thank you, Bucky,” you mumbled. Bucky squeezed you tight for just a second in reply, and when he relaxed his hold, the vice in your chest had lessened significantly.

“Jus’ wanna take care of my girl, ‘s all,” Bucky said, so quietly you almost didn’t hear, but you stiffened.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Bucky hastened, his voice suddenly sharp and he pulled away, leaving you standing by the chair, dumbfounded and in shock. “Forget I said anything, let’s get outta here, huh?”

“No, no wait,” you rushed forward, grabbing his arm while you felt your eyes shine with tears – from what: fear, shock, or happiness, you couldn’t tell. “What did you say?”

A long stretch of silence passed before Bucky met your pleading gaze, but he was frowning slightly, as if he was considering every outcome in the blink of an eye. It was unbearable, and you shook his arm slightly, ignoring the way the muscles didn’t budge under your grip.

“I said I wanted to take care of my girl.”

The tension cracked and split like a whip had cleaved through it, and a heavy breath left your lips. “Your girl?”

“Yeah,” Bucky said, nodding stiffly.

“Are you-” You tried, but stopped. The sudden dryness in your mouth made it difficult to form the words. “Are you saying… what I think you’re saying?”

Bucky held your stare. “Yes.”

“Oh, my god,” you rushed, and you slammed into his chest to wrap your arms around his middle again – this time he was the one that let out a surprised “oof!” before he wrapped his arms around your shoulders.

“Took you fuckin’ long enough!” Steve cried suddenly and you whirled around. Somehow, while engrossed in your panicked train of thought, and Bucky being stuck in his own version of panicking, Steve and Nat had quietly opened the door to eavesdrop. “Nat, you owe me fifty bucks.”

“Dammit,” Nat grumbled before her heels clicked on the floor, the sound muffling the further she walked away.

The fact that they had placed bets on this didn’t leave you feeling surprised in the slightest, if you were honest – Nat had known something was up, naturally, and she made it a point to stare expectantly whenever you would become flustered by literally anything Bucky did: paying special attention to you, calling you Sunshine, or how he was fiercely protective of you, all of which you found out when you went out to coffee with her. She had snorted and laughed at the obviously hilarious expression of shock upon finding any of that out – you had thought you were subtle, dammit.

Stevie, well, he was Bucky’s best friend – you can only hide so much from the person you were with most, if not all of the working day. It also didn’t help Stevie was a nosy sonofabitch on the best of days. “Can’t make a plan without all the variables, Sunny,” Stevie would say smugly whenever you questioned him, a proud, knowing smirk on his lips and a mischievous glint in his eyes.

You glanced up at Bucky to see him burning holes through the door to the back of his friends as they made a hasty retreat – there was no way he was clued in on that little game.

“Hey, guys, wait up!” Peter yelled as the bell sounded, followed by his rushed footsteps. “See you tomorrow, Boss!” Bucky didn’t reply as the door closed behind Peter and the shop was silent again – just the two of you.

The slight furrow in his brow and the pensive frown on his lips made your hands grow clammy with nervous sweat; you couldn’t tell what Bucky was thinking, and it was infuriating.

Minutes stretched by, or seconds, you couldn’t tell – you were trapped in his gaze, lost in the thoughts racing through your mind, did he truly mean what he said?

You startled slightly when Bucky’s hand suddenly cupped your cheek, not having seen him move his arm. “So,” he said slowly. The softening of his eyes made your heart flutter – this was your Bucky, a gentle, soft soul that looked out for you.

“Bucky?” You whispered. Bucky only hummed quietly, moving his hands to hold both of yours, the cold bite of his rings caused a shiver to crawl up your spine.

“What d’you say, Sunshine?” Bucky asked, still slow and thoughtful, like he was weighing every word. The tension grew to be unbearable and it was all you could do to keep your breathing even, you wished his intense gaze would waver, or he would look away – just for a damned second.

You licked your lips, shuffling your feet on the spot. “That depends on what you’re as-”

“Be my girl?”

Time stopped. Your heart stopped, ceasing its pounding rhythm for a millisecond before kick-starting thunderously. Sure, he had called you his girl more than once, but hearing him ask if you would be? You prayed to whoever would listen above that you would survive this, for you were floating on cloud nine and you did not want to come back down.

“I-I,” you stumbled, growing even more flustered at the glint in his eyes – you couldn’t tell what he was feeling but you felt pinned, in the best possible way. “Yeah, yeah I want to be your Sunshine, Buck-”

Your stomach swooped at the sudden and entirely unexpected feeling of his lips on yours, and his hands – god, his hands, one moved to hold the side of your throat, the other cupped your face. He set the pace easily and you eagerly followed, you had been craving this for so long that it was almost unbelievable.

To make doubly sure you weren’t dreaming, more than the desire to touch him, you ran your hands up his arms to rest them on his broad shoulders and you felt him smile into the kiss. “It’s real, sweetheart, ‘m here,” Bucky said against your lips, and you sighed happily.

The warm smile Bucky gave you as he pulled away made you miss his touch, even though he had only taken a single step away. “I’ll finish cleanin’ up and then we can get outta here, we have a lot to celebrate, Sunshine, don’t we?”

The butterflies in your stomach became a frenzy at his words, and you nodded shyly. “They’re going to lose their minds, aren’t they?” You mused, sitting on the rolling stool while you waited for him to finish up. “Nat and the guys, I mean.”

“Yeah,” Bucky sighed, zipping up his case. “Yeah, they will, the bastards. Bettin’ on their fuckin’ boss, I oughta fire all of ‘em.” You laughed heartily and Bucky smirked.

Once Bucky’s station had been tidied and cleaned for the next day, he reached a hand out and you accepted it happily. “Let’s get outta here, I gotta treat my girl to a nice night, huh?”

“Only if we take your bike,” you said, squeezing Bucky’s hand and he looked over at you curiously. “I want to fly.”

Bucky only chuckled, shaking his head. “Don’t have to tell me twice, sweetheart.”

↠ 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐚𝐨𝟑 ↞

#comment reblogs ♡#fic recs #bucky barnes #tattoo artist!bucky #grumpy!bucky

2K notes · View notes

marvellous1917 · 2 years ago

Text

Icarus

(Part 1)

Pairing: mob!Bucky x tattoo artist!reader

Summary: you come home from work, only to find a mob boss in your house looking for your roommate.

Warnings: mentions of a gun, mentions of arms and drug trafficking, murder, kidnapping, torture, swearing, tattoos, gambling, think that’s it

A/n: I’m a simple girl. Mob!Bucky makes my brain go whurrrrrr. This is pure self service because I have this tattoo lol. Been along time guys what’s up?

————

“Late night?” The deep voice came from the dark.

“Holy-” fear spiked through your heart from the unfamiliar sound, your arms dropping the bags and your back crashing into the closed front door, “-who.. who are you?” You asked the unfamiliar voice. Turning slightly you see the long haired, leather covered man sat in the dining room. His left arm rested on the table, the prosthetic shining, the light from the street lamp outside shining through the window. His face was half shrouded in darkness, the other half showed his eyes, a little confused but also amused.

“You’re not Caleb.” He replied, sitting back in the chair, tilting his head to the side and moving something that looked suspiciously pistol shaped off of the table and into the inside pocket of his jacket, you reached up and flipped on the light.

“N-no no, I’m not. I’m his roommate.” You said, finally registering who you were talking to. The now fully visible metal arm was a pretty big giveaway, if nothing else. ‘There is a mob boss sat in my kitchen, what the fuck’.

“What do you want with Caleb? Does he owe you something?” The thought was out of your mouth before you could stop it. “Oh god no sorry forget I asked. Sorry... sir? I don’t-”

“I’m assuming from that reaction you know who I am,” He said, smirk on his face as he stood and moved closer, your back pressing flatter against the wall beside the door with every step he took.

“Of..of course I do, everyone in New York knows who you are..Sir” You replied.

“Hmm, I’m gonna take that as a compliment doll,”

“It is! Sorry! Congrats on all the… mafia shit.” Did I just say ‘mafia shit’ to a gangster.

The silence is awkward, his face blank and all you can think is ‘Oh my god I’m gonna die.’ His face twists into a …smile.. you think, y’know its hard to tell, fear has your vision all fuzzy.

He then starts to..laugh. He’s laughing? He’s actually laughing.

“Is this something you do before you kill people? You laugh, give them a false sense of security then shoot them?” You ramble quietly, confused at what’s happening.

He moved his left hand to rest on his stomach, the metal catching the light, shining right in you eye and it fully registered that, holy shit, James fucking Barnes, The Winter goddamn Soldier is in my house. This man is literally wanted by every law enforcement agent in the country, he’s in control of one of the most ruthless organisations in the world, they traffic arms and drugs and gun down anyone that gets in the way. Apparently, at least that’s what the news said. The stories about him though, way more upsetting.

The rumor was that after he left the special forces, he was captured by an organisation that wanted him to work for them. When he tried to escape the first time, they took his arm, and he was stuck working for them for a decade. The story goes that after he finally escaped, he tracked down everyone that was a part of it and killed them all, by himself. Alone. Just him. On his own. Then he took over their supply and demand and built his empire from the ground up.

“Oh god.. ‘congrats on all the mafia shit’, that’s the funniest thing I’ve heard in a while…” he pushed out while chuckling. “I’m gonna get that shit tattooed, I swear,” he said.

“I could do that for you,” it was out of your mouth before you could stop it. ‘Oh my god, shut up Y/N’ you thought to yourself.

“What?” He asked, eyes flitting over to yours, his piercing stare causing all sorts of feeling to rise inside your chest; fear, confusion, attraction. Attraction? What? Damn him and his pretty face. He’s a killer Y/N, remember that?

“Nothing, sorry” you answered, looking down at your feet.

“No what did you say Y/n?” He asked again, his voice more stern than before. If you weren’t so scared, you would have questioned how he knew your name.

“I said that I could give you that tattoo, sorry, just slipped out” you replied, unsure what his response would be to your completely unnecessary comment.

“Stop apologising would’ya doll, there’s no need.” He said, sort of sweetly, a small comforting smile on his face, the pet name causing all sorts of lovely feelings inside.

“Sor.. yes Sir,” you corrected yourself.

“And stop calling me Sir darlin, only my employees call me that,” he said, “well my employees and some others..” he said with a dirty smirk, causing your eyebrows to raise sky high.

“Sorry Sir,” you said quickly, not even thinking. “…shit.”

“Seriously doll, you don’t need to be so scared of me,” he stated, his right hand reaching out and landing on your shoulder, your muscles tensing for a second then relaxing when you saw the look in his eye, he was telling the truth

“Ok.. then can I ask why you are here?” You ask, some fear creeping it’s way into your voice despite his reassurance. He kept his face carefully still and he looked you up and down, the feeling of being examined was strong, like he was trying to decide if you were worthy of knowing his business.

“You got it right earlier, your roommate owes me something, and I came to get it from him,” he removes his hand from your arm as he spoke after a tense silence. He was being purposely vague, trying to gage your reaction, to see if you were really clueless or you were playing with him.

“It’s money right, I mean it has to be, what else could he owe you. I told him to stop freaking borrowing money I swear I tried to stop him, but he never listened to me..l”

“You’re rambling darlin, you realise that?” He cuts you off with a smirk on his face.

“I’ve been told I do that when I’m nervous. I don’t know how much Caleb owes you and I don’t know what the situation is but.. if you.. I mean..”

“What doll? What are you trying to say. I won’t be mad, I swear,” Barnes responds, one side of his lips tugging upwards at your mumbling.

“Could you give him some more time?”

He was not expecting that. ‘Brave little thing’ he thought.

“I mean I don’t know how long he’s owed you for but he’s getting back on track I swear, he’s getting better, he is, in-fact he’s at a gamblers anonymous meeting right now, and he has a job interview tomorrow so he can pay rent and pay back people he owes money to.” You rush out, trying to help your friend, “Of course he never told me that he owes money to a mobster but that besides the point” you add quieter, more to yourself than anything but Barnes still heard it. He chuckled and ran his flesh hand through his hair, pushing back the long strands out of his face.

“He does owe money to a mobster, quite a lot in fact so I’m gonna have to say no to that request darlin, I’ve given him long enough.” He responds, his tone dripping with authority, the Brooklyn drawl on the pet name he threw out made your heart beat faster.

“Please. Please just think about it Sir.. uh Mr Barnes.. Sir. Caleb’s had a rough go of it lately, he lost his father not too long ago and he’s been a mess ever since, if you could just give..”

“I already said no once doll, I don’t like repeating myself.” His tone was final, and even though his words were not that intense, the threat in his voice hung in the air like poison gas before slamming into your chest, the fear that had previously been quelled came racing back, sitting on your shoulders like a lead coat.

The silence stayed for longer this time, you eyes firmly fixed to the floor to a sound even the possibility of upsetting the man that had broken into your home.

“So you’re a tattoo artist huh? He asked, his low voice calming you some. Huh he’s trying to make me less afraid of him, what kind of ruthless criminal is he?

“Yes..um I am,” you answer, incredibly aware of the position you were in, better to go along with whatever he did.

“You got a flash book?” He questioned, genuinely interested.

“Uh yeah I do.” You reply awkwardly, not sure where this new line of conversation was coming from.

“Can I see it?”

“…sure,” the word came out as a question.

He nodded at you, and you took it as a sign that you were good to move. Turning slowly and moving away from the wall to your bag on the floor, you reach down and grab your flash sketchbook and hand it to him.

“Are all of these available?” He asked, flipping through the pages, taking in each design.

Seeing him like this, calmly looking through the sketchbook makes it very easy to forget who he was, a ruthless calculating Mob Boss, wanted for almost every crime under the sun.

“The ones with the X’s over them have been done before but could be repeated if someone really wanted it,” you answered, slightly more confident in yourself as you were talking about something you loved.

“This is Latin, right, what does it mean?” He asked, moving to stand next to you pointing to a design in the book, an alien inside a bottle of wine.

“‘In Vino Veritas’, it means ‘In wine, there is truth’” you say, “ I though it was funny, y’know.. ‘the truth is out there’..aliens..” you trailed off, not sure how to explain that design

He let out an quiet amused sound, his shoulder brushing yours, sending a trail of chills down your spine.

“This one is beautiful,” he said, pointing to a different design on the next page.

“Thank you, it’s Icarus, I have it tattooed on me, it was hard as hell doing it on my own leg,” you say, proud of the design you created.

“Icarus, what’s his story? I can’t quite remember, ” he asks.

“It’s a Greek myth y’know, Icarus and his father were held captive by King Minos in a tower, his father created wax wings so they could fly away from their captors. The father warned Icarus from flying too high or too low, but he ignored his fathers warnings and flew too close to the sun and his wings melted. It’s a moral story to warn against the dangers of complacency and hubris, but to me it’s just a tragedy.” You say, turning to face him, making eye contact with the man. He listened intently to the story, his face unreadable but you thought you saw a flash of something in his eyes, maybe he related to the myth, a man that was once held captive, now with everything in his hands, in danger of losing it all if he flew too close to the sun himself.

“A tragedy huh? I don’t think there’s anything tragic about it. He was warned not to do something dangerous and he went and did it anyway, it’s his own damn fault,” he stated, something slightly argumentative in his tone.

He looked straight at you while speaking and you couldn’t help but feel as if he was looking into your soul, like his statement was some kind of test.

“I agree with the idea that he got what he deserved, but I meant it as a tragedy for his father. Creating something so pure for you and your child to escape from captivity, only for your child to ignore your warnings and pay the ultimate price for it. His father probably spent the rest of his life regretting escaping his prison because that was the action that ultimately lead to his sons death. It’s heartbreaking if you see it from a different perspective,” you say back, not really expecting him to engage you in a philosophical debate.

“Hmm.. that’s an interesting way to see it, I’m not really one for looking at different perspectives, mine suits me just fine,” he answered, the fact that this man was dangerous came screaming back to you with the look on his face, blank like he was devout of all emotion at that moment. You got the feeling he wasn’t speaking metaphorically anymore.

The tension was palpable, you not knowing what to say next and him deciding he was done talking for the time being. He placed the book down on a side table, and turned back to you. “Y’know what, I want it.” He said, confusing flooding your brain.

“Want what?” You ask calmly, not wanting to push your luck with the man.

“That tattoo, the Icarus one, I want it.” He answers, leaning back against the side of the table he was sat at earlier. His crossed his arms, which should have been intimidating, but for some reason the only thought floating through your head was Damn his arms are bigger than my head. Gimmie.

“You want the Icarus?” You ask, somewhat stupidly and he had just said that.

“Yes I do,” he answered simply, “Are you free tomorrow?” He asks, smile on his face.

“Umm not really, I have a few appointments tomo..”

“Move them, hell cancel them. Block out a spot long enough for me to get this tattoo.” He states, cutting of your sentence.

“I can’t do that, it’s too short notice and I could loose..”

“I’ll pay what ever you lose for cancelling the appointments. I’m getting this done, tomorrow.” He cuts you off again, a finality in his tone that warns you it would be pointless and probably rather stupid to argue.

“Uh..ok” you respond, shaking your head a little, still trying to figure out what just happened.

“Great.” He clapped his hands together and the sound made you jump. Barnes either didn’t notice it or just didn’t care. “Give me your phone.”

“Huh? Why do you want my phone?” You question.

Barnes just rolled his eyes, walked forward until he was stood right infront of you, toe to toe, staring down at you with a semi amused look on his face.

“How am I supposed to find out where your shop is if you don’t text me the location?” He said sarcastically.

Literally a million different ways, google it for starters, get one of your goons to find it, stalk me and follow me there.. c’mon man think. Obviously you kept these thoughts to yourself but Barnes smirked as if he could hear them anyway. Pulling out your phone and handing it to him you ask, “What time do you want to come in for?”

“Around 1-ish doll, that ok?” He asked, knowing that it is, as he’s already told you to move/cancel your other appointments.

“That’s fine by me Bar..Mr Barnes” you answer, slipping up, almost forgetting the level of respect you should probably show to the gangster in your home.

He calls his phone from yours, adding the new number to contacts in both phones, “there, now you can let me know the address of your shop.”

“I’ll sent it to you tomorrow.. unless you want me to send it now?” You asked he hands your phone back , uncertain of what he wanted

“Tomorrows fine” he answers, walking backwards towards the front door, “I’ll see ya in the afternoon doll,” he says while opening the door and mostly leaving until he pauses completely, slowly turning back towards you.

This is it, he’s been messing with me this whole time and now he’s going to shoot me.

“Tell Caleb he has 6 weeks to get my money back to me or I’ll be paying him another visit, ok doll.” He says, no question in his voice. He waits until you answer with a “Yes, Mr Barnes,” and disappears into the hallway outside your apartment.

It takes about 5 minutes for the shock to fully wear off, and it causes you to stagger over to the couch, fall backwards onto it an ask into the empty room, “What the actual fuck just happened?”

As soon as the question was out of your mouth , your phone buzzed in your hand.

James:

Don’t ever call me Mr Barnes again Y/n.

It makes me feel ancient.

I hate that.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fic #mob!bucky #bucky barnes #mob!bucky fic #marvel #marvel imagine #marvel imagines #bucky imagine #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #tattoo artist!reader

6K notes · View notes

sergeantxrogers · 8 months ago

Text

in the red dark

His eyes trapped yours in their vice-like grip as he stared up at you, fingers brushing against the hem of your jeans, and you swallowed heavily. You felt the rush of alcohol in your head fizzle out into smoke and embers as you sobered up quicker than you ever have in your life.

"Are you sure?"

You swallowed again. Nodded.

There was a small twitch in his eyebrows, and he narrowed his gaze. "It'll hurt."

Despite your heartbeat drowning out all sounds around you, despite the cold sweat on the back of your neck, despite the knowledge that you'll probably regret this - whatever this actually was - in the morning, you smiled.

"Then I guess I'll just have to hold your hand."

Pairing: Tattoo artist!Bucky Barnes x reader

Word count: 5.8k

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, reader is drunk (i apologise if that's not your thing), swearing, perhaps some sexual tension, mentions of pain, needles, tattoos, lots of love-at-first-prick energy, mentions of smoking/cigarettes

Author's note: You guys it's literally embarrassing how badly i've fallen off... LMAO i missed writing sooo so much but life has really got me by the balls these past few months. I hope y'all enjoy this and let me know if you'd be interested in a part two. Love u <3

__________

Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Ba-dum.

You didn't know if it was your heartbeat pulsing in your head, or the heavy beat of the music washing over your senses and travelling through your veins. You couldn't tell, but you truly didn't really care. Right now, your hazy, gin-and-tonic drunken eyes focused only on Wanda, her red hair reflecting the neon club lights, your gaze zeroing in on her lips mouthing the words to a song you couldn't even hear at this point.

You saw her smile, and, as if in reply, your lips tugged into a grin of their own. A wave of heat rolled over you as you danced with Natasha, and you brought up your hand that wasn't holding a glass of something that had begun to taste like water to fan yourself.

You felt, more than heard, Natasha yell into your ear, and you furrowed your brows, turning your eyes from Wanda to meet her gaze.

"What?" you yelled back, confusion marring your features. You saw Nat's shoulders rise and fall with the enormous sigh she took in, and you kept in your giggles.

She tugged on your arm, then pointed to the crowd behind you. More specifically, the exit that was on the other side of the club, blocked by hundreds of hot, sweaty, drunk bodies in their own little worlds - much like you were now. It clicked; you had been in the club drinking your asses off the past three hours, you were hot, your heels were killing you, and, quite frankly, you were running out of money for the night.

You nodded deeply and seriously, eyes screwed shut as Nat tugged Wanda's arm with one hand and yours with the other. Quickly, you downed the rest of the contents of your glass, leaving behind only a thin slice of lemon and a lipstick stain on the rim and snatched your bag off the table before the three of you decided to brave the large crowd that only seemed to grow bigger by the minute.

Holding hands and forming a sort of train, you made it through the suffocating crowd step by step, breath by breath, until, finally, you felt the cool late summer air caress your flushed face, the thumping bass of the club now seeming like a whole different dimension as the heavy door shut behind you with a click.

Wanda, perpetually happy, you've come to understand over the years, let out a raspy laugh.

"This place is fucking insane, guys! Holy shit!" she exclaimed, pointing a manicured finger at the door the three of you had just come through.

You hummed in agreement. "Yeah, why haven't we ever gone here before?"

Natasha, almost always the least drunk out of you three, let out a trademark sigh. She gave you a look you could only translate to 'seriously?'.

"What? I'm being for real," you frowned.

Nat rolled her eyes, then winced as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "I know you are, it's just that we've never come here before because this was opening night. You know, the whole reason we even came in the first place? Jesus Christ, you two need some water."

All it took was for you and Wanda to share a look before you both burst out laughing. You leaned on her arm for support as your giggles died down, and you let out a big, happy sigh.

"Come on, we'll never grab a cab here - there's way too many people. Let's walk a couple blocks down," Nat said, stepping between the two of you and throwing her arms around your shoulders. "Can't believe I always get babysitting duty."

You and Wanda smiled coyly, seeing the playfulness glimmering in Natasha's eyes, letting you know she wasn't actually upset.

The three of you started your trek, slightly stumbling but keeping in a straight line for the most part. You had only walked about 150 feet when Wanda let out a gasp. You and Natasha both turned your heads to see what she was pointing so happily at, and when you saw what had made her gasp, you cocked your head in amusement.

Red neon light flooded your hazy vision, one word flickering and buzzing above your head in the dark - tattoo.

"It says they're open 24/7. Isn't that weird? Do you guys think we should all get matching tattoos? What should we get? Wait, do you think we even have enough money to get matching tattoos?"

Disappointment flooded Wanda's rambling, and you opened your mouth to reply, but Nat beat you to it.

"Wanda, we are not getting matching tattoos, especially not while drunk."

Staring at the sign above you, the red neon washing over the world, the soft buzz of electricity coming from it drowned out Wanda's complaining and Natasha's replies. They became background noise as you let the waves of alcohol make the decision for you, surprising even yourself when the words came out of your mouth.

"I want one."

Your two friends stopped their bickering and both stared at you, Nat with an incredulous look on her face, and Wanda with something a little more akin to amusement.

"Really?" they said at the same time, their tones matching their faces.

You nodded. "Yeah. I mean, I feel like never do anything fun. Besides, what's the harm in it? It won't kill me," you said with a shrug.

Natasha's weary eyes gave you a once over, and she took a step toward you, putting a hand up to your forehead.

"Are you sure you don't have alcohol poisoning or something?"

You slapped her hand away with a roll of your eyes. "I'm fine, Nat, I just really wanna get a tattoo now. I already know what I want to get."

Even Wanda, whose idea it was in the first place, gave you a suspicious hum. "Nat's only asking because this really doesn't seem like you, Y/N."

The frustration bubbled in your chest before you could stop it, and you quickly shoved it down. They were right, after all - you were the type of person to never make any decision, big or small, without planning for it in advance and double, and then triple, checking you were absolutely certain. Everybody knew this, which was why your friends were doubtful.

Everyone knew this, yet no one knew how draining it was to always be on top of things. Nobody knew how exhausting to always plan everything out in advance to minimize the risk of anything going wrong as much as you could. School, college, dating, the things you ate, the places you went, the clothes you wore - everything was planned ahead, and, quite frankly, you were growing sick of it. Sick of yourself, almost.

With a huff, and a roll of your shoulders, you tugged your jeans up and lifted your chin. Then, without a word or warning, you turned on your high heel and pushed open the heavy glass door of the tattoo parlor, the bell over your head chiming softly as you walked through.

There's no going back now, a voice called in your head. You blocked it out. Good.

___________

Leg crossed over the other, you fidgeted with the rips in your jeans as you sat in the black, plastic chair in the front of the shop. After speaking to a girl who looked like she wanted to be anywhere else but at work, she told the three of you to have a seat and wait a couple minutes while they got everything set up. She popped her gum as she left, and only in the sudden silence, surrounded by dark walls and miscellaneous photographs adorning them, the nervous flutter in your stomach awoke, sending a cold sweat to your palms.

So, here you were, almost two in the morning sitting between your two best friends, mentally preparing yourself to get a tattoo you didn't even know you wanted a couple of hours ago. Yet, no matter how nervous you were, there was still a bigger part of you, a louder voice in your head encouraging you that this was exactly what you wanted and needed. The seconds ticking by on the clock above you only further reassured you.

A warm palm on your ankle startled you out of your thoughts, and you turned to see Nat, holding your gaze.

"Could you please stop jiggling your foot. You're making me nervous and I'm not even getting anything done."

You gave her a slight nod. "Yeah - yeah, sorry."

You hadn't even realized you were doing it, but it was a nervous tick of yours, a habit that you were never going to break. You turned your head to your other side, and Wanda's mischievous glint in her eyes made you shoot her a smile, growing your confidence by a little.

The soft chime of beads being separated made the three of you turn your focus to the doorway set in the left wall, the same unamused girl from before stepping through before gesturing for you to stand up.

"He's ready for you now."

"He? You're not gonna be the one tattooing me?" you asked nervously, your steps faltering slightly across the black-and-white tiled floor, and you hoped it wasn't too noticeable.

The girl shook her head. "Nope, I'm only here on an apprenticeship. I mainly just work the front desk and do other assistant-like bullshit for Barnes."

"Oh." You didn't know who Barnes was, but you could only assume he was the artist waiting for you behind the beaded curtain.

"Also, your girlfriends have to stay here. It's salon policy, sorry."

You turned back just in time to see Nat and Wanda lower themselves back in their seats, the three of you exchanging a look that showed you didn't believe she was sorry in the least.

"Okay. So, I just... walk through here?" you asked, pointing at the doorway.

The girl nodded, bored out of her mind already. "Yeah, there are two rooms. Go for the left one."

And that was apparently all you were getting out of her, because she turned around and walked away, taking a seat behind the large reception desk with a heavy sigh.

Taking one last look at your friends' reassuring smiles, Wanda sending you an enthusiastic thumbs up, you walked through the curtain with a deep breath. The beads drifted over your shoulders and thighs, then quietly fell back into place behind you as you stepped into the small dark hallway. Go for the left one, she said, so you did, forcing your feet to move forward, heels softly clicking against the tiles.

Oddly enough, the doorway on the left was bare, no door on the hinges and no beaded curtain hanging down, so you knocked on the frame and hesitantly stepped through. You were surprised to find the interior design completely different to the front of the salon - even the small hallway you left behind was dark and depressing, while this part of the shop had rich, shiny hardwood floors, a floor lamp standing in every corner washing the room in an orange hue.

You noticed the walls had less pictures than the ones in the front, but the ones that were hanging were big, framed, and beautiful.

"My buddy Steve painted those," a smooth voice called out, startling you, and you ripped your eyes from the paintings on the walls, not realizing how rude you were being just standing there without saying a word.

Your gaze quickly scanned the room until you found the source of the voice standing at the back of the room, leaning back against a table with his arms crossed over his chest. Whatever words you were planning on saying died in your throat as you took him in. Dark hair, cropped shorter on the sides. Blue eyes underneath heavy-set brows, the bridge of his nose leading down to pink lips that were currently morphing into an amused smile. The stubble on his cheeks and jaw moved as he clenched his teeth, and you weren't sure if it was the alcohol in your veins speaking its mind, but you were pretty certain this had to be the most gorgeous man you had ever laid eyes on.

"He - he's good," you managed to reply, and he lifted a brow.

"Your friend, I mean - seems like a great painter," you elaborated, gesturing weakly to the wall of canvases. He nodded in agreement, then pushed himself off the table he was leaning against, taking a few steps forward.

"You can lay down now if you want. It might be more comfortable than just standing there while we talk about what we're doing tonight," he said, nodding toward the black massage chair in the center of the room.

You nodded back, willing your ankles to keep steady in your now frustratingly high shoes, along with the gin still pulsing steadily in your head. You may have been even more nervous than you were now if it hadn't been for all the glasses you drank one after another earlier in the night. Right now, you were actually thankful you weren't completely sober for this, because you didn't know how else you would be able to handle the man's sea-blue stare that tracked your every movement as you lied down with such an intensity it made your cheeks burn.

Evidently, he must have noticed your jitters, because he pulled out a small leather stool on wheels and took a seat next to you. He softened his gaze and crossed his arms again. You couldn't help but noticed how peculiar they were - for no reason other than the fact that the short, tight sleeves allowed you to see they were completely bare, not one tattoo in sight on his perfect skin. Weird. Maybe he had tattoos in places you couldn't see, but before you could think too deeply on that and risk blushing again, you ripped your eyes back up to his.

"I'm Bucky," was all he said, voice now quieter and more laid-back, probably trying to help ease your nerves even more.

"I'm Y/N," you replied, then cleared your throat.

"I'm assuming this is your first ever tattoo?" he asked, and you winced a bit.

"It's that obvious?"

He - Bucky - gave you a small smile. "Kind of. But you also don't seem like the type of person to get a drunk tattoo at-" he checked the watch on his wrist "-1:52 a.m."

Check and mate. You gave a small shrug. "I guess people can be surprising."

He said nothing to that, only regarded you with a faint amusement in his narrowed eyes, before clearing his throat.

"And what did you have in mind? Kate up front told me you wanted a butterfly, but I need to know if you had something specific in mind?"

"Well, I was kind of hoping to leave the details up to you... I just know I want a butterfly, that's all.

"So, you're putting your trust in me completely, I see."

You felt your heartbeat trip over itself and you cleared your throat, nodding meakly.

"You know," he began as he stood and walked over to the table he was leaning on earlier, "butterflies symbolize transformation, and hope. Metamorphosis. Some also say they symbolize resurrection - triumph of soul over body."

Bucky spoke as he walked back, carrying a few papers and a box of gloves with him. He set the box down on the small table beside your chair, then handed you the papers.

"These are just a few sketches I did when Kate told me what you wanted, but I wasn't sure how big or small you wanted it to be, or where you wanted it to go, so there's a few options you could choose from."

You flipped through the pages, sketch after sketch filling your eyesight, and your breath stilled in your chest. These drawings were absolutely beautiful. Apparently, his buddy Steve wasn't the only one who was insanely talented. Your gaze snagged on one of the last sketches, a small monarch butterfly about the size of a silver dollar, gorgeous patterns covering its spread wings.

Bucky noticed you go still, and tilted his head.

"This one?" he asked. You simply nodded.

"Alright," he said softly. "Let me just prep the stencil and we'll be all set."

Focusing on keeping your breathing steady, in and out, you watched him get up and walk back towards the table. You took the time to admire the strong build of his back, shoulder blades visible under the tight material, triceps slightly flexing as he moved his arms, doing what ever he needed to do. The drinks in your system were doing little to help. In fact, they were just making it worse, sending flashes of heat flooding through your stomach and warming your body as you stared at him.

Sooner rather than later, he turned back around and you quickly tore your eyes away, not wanting to be caught staring, and instead focused your gaze on your painted toenails in your black heels. You clicked your shoes together a couple times, maybe out of nerves, maybe just for something to do, and Bucky sat back down on his stool.

"Alright, doll. Where's this bad boy going?"

You tried not to be so obvious with the way the name affected you, but the way it slipped off his tongue so easily, like it belonged there, had your hands sweating and breath quickening. You swallowed.

"M-my hip. I was thinking my hip."

Bucky cocked a dark brow. "Your hip."

The way he said it, not a question, but rather a statement, voice an octave lower than it was a moment ago, had you reminding yourself to keep breathing.

You nodded. His eyes flickered down to the aforementioned body part, then slowly made their way up, over your stomach and across your chest covered in a lacy top, across your neck, then finally met yours. This time, he was the one who swallowed, Adam's apple bobbing as he reciprocated your nod.

"Okay. Okay, that's good. That's a cool spot," he said, and then cleared his throat. "I'm, uh, I'm gonna need you to - to unbutton your jeans. So I can, you know, place the stencil and - and ink you, and stuff."

Your lips quirked up, finding it amusing how flustered he seemed to get now, instead of the other way around. A rush of confidence overtook you, whether it was from his stammered words, or the way his eyes had travelled your torso, or maybe it was simply your inebriation. It could have been all three. Whatever it was, it had you staring into his eyes as your hands found the button of your jeans, undoing it and pulling the zipper down, then pulling one side of them down, folding it over itself so your underwear was on display.

Bucky's eyes tracked the movements, darkening when he lifted them back up to yours, and his jaw visibly clenched. You let out a loose breath through your nose and bit your tongue.

The silence between you two felt stretched taught and thin, palpable and ready to shatter at any moment as you stared at each other. He cleared his throat again.

"Would you mind if I smoke?" he asked, voice rough and resigned. You shook your head.

Pulling out a pack of Marlboro Reds and a lighter from his pocket, you watched, slightly fascinated, as he pulled a cigarette out from the pack, brought it to his pink lips, struck the lighter and lit it, inhaling deeply. The smoke he blew from his mouth surrounded you, filling the air with a new, hazy tension. He kept eye contact as he threw his cigarettes and the lighter onto the small table, and pulled his stool closer.

He leaned down over your hip, then hesitated. Flicking his eyes up to yours, brows raised in question, you nodded.

Bucky's fingers softly, slowly, grabbed the hem of your underwear and pulled it down a couple of inches, and when his fingertips brushed the delicate skin there, you felt a rush of fire burst through you, starting from the place of contact and going straight to your head. You tried focusing on breathing evenly, but that was difficult to do as you watched him reach behind and pull two black, latex gloves from the box he had brought earlier, pulling them on while studying the small expanse of skin he had exposed.

Your head swam, vision going in and out as you watched him carefully place the stencil he had made against your skin, adjusting it with one hand, pulling your underwear and jeans down with the other so they would stay out of the way. The cigarette dangled from his plump lips, and he pulled it out of his mouth, let smoke leave through his nose as he turned and set it against an ash tray.

He nodded toward the stencil. "Is this placement okay?"

You glanced down, seeing the fine, purple outline of the butterfly you chose on your hipbone, and you nodded. You couldn't help the small smile that reached your lips - it looked amazing already.

"Alright, doll," Bucky said, then carefully peeled the paper back, leaving just the drawing and goosebumps on your skin.

He stared at it for a moment, then frowned.

"What's wrong?" you asked, immediately worried.

"Nothing's wrong, exactly, I just don't think I can ink you in this position. The angle is awkward and the skin isn't tight enough so it might not end up the way you want it to."

"Oh," you said, the frowned yourself. "Well, what would work better?"

He gave a short shrug. "It would be best if you were standing, honestly."

Your mouth parted, but no breath escaped, and you nodded slightly. "Yeah. Okay."

The words came out quiet and breathy, and you hoped he couldn't notice the slight tremble in your arms as you lifted yourself out of the chair and to your feet beside him. Your underwear and jeans rode back up as you did, and you frowned, wondering if you chose a place that was too impractical.

Bucky, either noticing your frown, or noticing where your attention was, rolled his stool closer to you. Looking up at you, his hands reached up with slow, deliberate movements, a question in his eyes. You bit your lip, nodding, and turned to face him completely, standing between his legs, thighs enclosing your own.

You held your breath as his fingers pulled the front of your jeans down, exposing both hips and the front of your panties, and he paused, holding your gaze. You gave him no sign to stop, so he reached for the hem of your underwear again, pulling it down even more this time, exposing not only your hip, but your upper pubic area as well.

His eyes flickered to the skin there, quickly, then back up to yours, and you watched his throat bob as he swallowed. The cigarette was burning out in the ash tray, long forgotten but filling the air with wisps of smoke and the smell of ash.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you couldn't help but feel like the way you were exposed in front of him, lips inches from a place you'd like him to be, the way he was staring into your eyes, pupils dilated and intoxicating - it may have all been just a touch unprofessional. You shooed the thought away when his gloved fingers traced the stenciled out butterfly, and goosebumps rose on your skin again, stomach clenching involuntarily at the touch.

"Are you sure?"

You swallowed again. Nodded.

There was a small twitch in his eyebrows, and he narrowed his gaze. "It'll hurt."

"Then I guess I'll just have to hold your hand."

Bucky gave you a sly smile, and shook his head, almost to himself, sucking in a deep breath before rolling back to grab the tattoo gun from the table. He moved the machine slightly closer so it had better reach, and you shifted on your feet nervously. At this point, you were more focused on the incoming pain than the pain already killing your heels and toes in your shoes.

"This is an area that usually doesn't hurt as much as others, but you'll still feel some discomfort," he told you as he fiddled with the machine and the gun, flicking it to life. The quiet buzzing filled the air, and you sucked in a sharp breath even though you nodded at his words.

He lifted his head to look at you, reaching a hand up to grab your other hip steady. "It'll feel like a buzz under your skin, or a slight stinging. If it gets too much for you, just squeeze my hand and I'll stop. I promise."

You made yourself look deep into his eyes and you noted the reassurance in them, so you let out the breath you didn't know you were holding and nodded, screwing your eyes shut.

His grip on you tightened, and it was a mild comfort as he pressed the needle into your skin, inking the first few drops into your hip. The pain wasn't excruciating, nor was it unbearable, but it was surprising, and like nothing you had ever felt before. You let out a soft gasp as he worked, trying to keep still so as not to disturb him, but you couldn't help your hand that shot out to grab his wrist - the one on your hip. He paused and turned his focus up to you, tender worry in his blue eyes.

"Are you okay, sweetheart?"

You clenched your jaw and nodded. "Just keep going, it's not that bad."

After a few more minutes, you seemed to get used to the stinging sensation, and now the area just felt numb. You had asked Bucky about it, but he smiled and reassured you that it was perfectly normal.

Your senses blurred together and you closed your eyes against all the stimulants - the smell of smoke still hanging in the air, the buzzing of the tattoo gun, the numbness in your hip, Bucky's firm hold on you and the strength of his wrist flexing beneath the palm of your hand.

You kept reminding yourself to breath, to focus on something else - anything other than the needle currently piercing your skin.

Bucky's fingers gave you a light squeeze, and you nearly trembled.

"Just a little more, doll, that's it. You're doing so good for me, you know that?" Bucky muttered softly, his breath warm against your bare skin, and you nodded even though he couldn't see.

"Just a few more seconds and we'll be all done, sweetheart, I promise."

"Okay," you whispered breathily and turned your gaze up towards the paneled ceiling.

"All done, doll," Bucky said, voice bringing your focus back to him. He switched the gun off and rolled back in his chair slightly to put it back where it belonged. He plucked a bottle of something off the table and grabbed a paper towel.

"This is just some antibacterial soap I'm gonna use to clean the ink residue off you, okay?"

It was all you could do to nod in response, and you watched him move as he cleaned the tattoo, then wiped it down carefully. You winced, and he frowned.

Bucky put the soap back and grabbed another similar-looking bottle.

"This is just lotion - it'll help soothe any lingering pain."

You stared in mute fascination as he spread the lotion across your hip, rubbing it in gently, then running his thumb across the fresh design. Your breath stuttered, and he tore his eyes away from the butterfly, clearing his throat. Once again, he turned back, putting the lotion in its place, then pulled out a box of large bandages from the lower part of the table, picking one up and peeling it open.

He pressed it softly against your tattoo, then made sure it was stuck on right, giving the area a soft stroke with his thumb again, and then he ripped his gloves off, throwing them in the trash beneath the table.

Bucky's attention finally, finally turned back to you, and he rolled himself into his initial position. His hands skimmed the sides of your thighs softly before they reached your panties, pulling them up and over the fresh tattoo. You held your breath when his knuckles brushed your lower stomach, and you could've sworn you heard him inhale sharply. A muscle in his jaw fluttered and he pulled your jeans back up too, zipping and buttoning them slowly.

He kept his stare straight, eyes on the button right in front of him, an you let out a slow, deep breath when his hands lowered from your hips, to the backs of your thighs, caressing them gently, even giving them a short squeeze.

"Did it hurt?" he asked, voice a raspy whisper.

You shook your head, eyes trained on him. "No."

He looked up then, and you felt your pulse pick up pace. You didn't know what to focus on - his eyes burning holes into yours, his hands gripping the backs of your thighs, or the fact that his face was inches away from your abdomen, breath heating it with every exhale.

"Good," he said simply. Quietly. "It'll heal in about two to three weeks, but you should avoid getting it wet and change the bandage as often as you can."

"M-maybe you could - give me your number," you stammered, and Bucky lifted his brows. "You know, so I can call if I notice something off, or - or if I need help with something."

He smiled, and this smile wasn't like any of the previous smiles. This one was a full-on grin, perfect teeth and dimples on display, making him look younger. You couldn't lie and say it wasn't one of the most beautiful sights you had ever seen.

"Okay," he said quietly. "I'll give you my number, but I want to be updated every day. It is your first tat, after all."

You grinned and nodded. "Alright. Deal."

"You're gonna walk out and pay Kate up front, and then I'll follow, as soon as I clean up here. 'Kay?"

You nodded.

"Good girl," he said, shooting a wave of heat through your body, and he gave your thighs a light slap before he rolled away.

The lack of his presence in your personal space felt jarring, like you had just been ripped away from the world and thrown into another, and you blinked the feeling away, sucking in a deep breath.

"Okay," you said, more to yourself than to him, and he smiled at you.

"Go. I promise I'll be out in a minute."

__________

Kate handed you your card back, and you were still trying to shake the shock of hearing the price off when the beaded curtain shuffled and Bucky came through in all his marvelous glory. Out here, in the open space of the front of the shop, he looked even taller, even wider, and you suppressed the urge to reach out a hand and touch him.

"Hey doll. Can't believe you didn't run away," he said with a half-smile, and you blew some air through your nose.

"Of course I didn't," you replied softly, then cleared your throat.

He held his hand out expectantly, and it took you a moment to realize what he was waiting for. "Oh! Right, sorry."

You tugged your phone out of your purse, unlocking it and handing it to him. You admired the way the screen lit up his face as his fingers flew across it, and before you knew it, he was handing the phone back to you with a smile.

He took a step forward, and you inhaled sharply.

"Remember, daily," he muttered, low enough only for you to hear, inches away from your face, and you could only nod.

"I promise," you whispered, and his smile grew.

Someone cleared their throat behind you, and that made you tear your eyes away from Bucky's. Nat and Wanda were both standing by the exit, hands on their hips, staring between you and Bucky expectantly.

"Right, we'll just be going now," you said, trying to hide the surprising disappointment in your voice as you gestured with your head to the door. "Thank you for everything. I love it."

Bucky slid his hands into the pockets of his jeans and gave you a genuine smile. "The pleasure was all mine, sweetheart."

You held his eyes even as Nat grabbed your arm and dragged you through the door, the bell chiming and tinkling above you, and Wanda called out a goodbye over her shoulder as the three of you left.

The cool night air enveloped you completely, and at this point, you were sober enough to feel a chill trickle through your bones. You shuddered.

"Jeez, what time is it, anyways," you mumbled, rubbing your arms to gather some warmth. You paused your movements when you noticed the looks on your friends' faces.

"What? What happened?"

Nat scoffed. "What happened? What happened with you? In there! With that beefcake of a man!"

Wanda chimed in excitedly. "The way he was looking at you? Phew, it was growing way too hot in there, to be honest."

You blushed, rolling your eyes, and began walking. "C'mon, guys, don't be childish-"

"Are you gonna go out with him?" Nat interrupted, linking an arm through yours.

"He hasn't asked me," you said blankly.

"Well, he definitely will," Wanda said with a matter-of-fact shrug. "I could see it in his eyes."

"Who would've thought - Y/N getting her groove on with the tattoo artist-"

"Ew, groove? Seriously, Natasha, who says things like that-"

"Stop trying to act like we're not totally right here."

You sighed and shook your head, but couldn't help the smile that rose to the surface. "Yeah, he is pretty hot."

The three of you burst into a fit of giggles as you walked, trying to find a taxi to hail before you froze your asses off.

"So... can we see the tat?"

289 notes · View notes

onceuponastory · 1 year ago

Text

closer - tattooartist!bucky barnes x female!reader

Plot: Y/N's feelings towards her tattoo artist intensify the closer he gets to her. Pairing: TattooArtist!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader Warnings: A few mentions of needles - specifically tattoo needles - and the sensation and pain of getting tattooed (specifically when it goes over a bone). If that sort of thing gives you the squick, I wouldn't read. Notes: Welcome to... whatever this is. I just missed tattoo!artist Bucky and I hc him as a flirt and a slight pain in the ass so here we are!

Not beta'd, so any mistakes are my own.

“Alright.” Bucky grins, loading up his tattoo needle with ink. “You ready to start?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

“You’ll be fine.” Bucky reassures. “Besides, it’s not like it’s going to be any different from the other ones I’ve done for you.” He chuckles.

He’s right, of course. This is not her first tattoo by Bucky Barnes. In fact, by this point, Bucky’s done most of Y/N’s growing collection of tattoos, and claims to be the very reason she was ‘bit by the tattoo bug’. And he’s right. Since she got her first tattoo from him, Y/N’s been itching to get more. She doesn’t see skin on her arms anymore, she sees empty space, a canvas for Bucky to fill with his art. And if she could, she’d have him cover her entire body with it.

Of course, the fact that her favourite tattoo artist (his words, not hers... although she agrees with him) is the most gorgeous man she’s ever seen is also why she keeps rushing back whenever she can. And he's also a massive flirt. Yet although it’ll never amount to anything, it never does… that doesn’t mean she can’t spend their sessions hoping for it. That one day he’ll notice her, really notice her, and tell her he’s just as much in love with her as she is with him.

As Bucky gets to work, Y/N turns her head, watching him. Of course, a lot of her sessions are also spent oogling her tattoo artist. Multicoloured tattoos of various designs and sizes cover Bucky's arms, piquing her curiosity. She's always wanted to ask him about them, to tell her the stories behind them, what was going on in his life back then to make him choose that design.

The familiar warm feeling of love begins to pool in her gut again, and Y/N sighs.

There's a lot of things she wants to know about Bucky.

"I can see you staring, you know."

"Just checking you're doing a good job." She lies. Bucky rolls his eyes.

"Oh, please." He looks down at her, trademark smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. "You use that excuse all the time. You just can't resist me."

Asshole.

Thankfully, Bucky soon drops it, going back to working on her tattoo. Today, he’s doing a piece that snakes up her arm and onto her shoulder, meaning he’s frequently getting up close and personal, more so than she’s used to. However, she doesn’t mind that at all.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

As Bucky works, Y/N occasionally glances over at him, still watching him curiously. Both because she actually enjoys seeing Bucky at work, and because again, he’s gorgeous. Thankfully, Bucky doesn't seem to have noticed this time. Or if he does, he doesn't call her out on it.

Some of Bucky’s brunette strands escape his man bun, framing his face. Y/N has to stop herself from reaching up and tucking it behind his ear. Despite how close she and Bucky are, that gesture is too intimate, too close for them… even as he moves further up her arm and onto her shoulders.

At one point, she glances over again, not realising he’s a lot closer than expected. So much so that her skin almost brushes against Bucky’s hair. For a split second, a flash of pink crosses Bucky's cheeks, and she frowns. Was he...blushing? Because of her?

“Oh, sorry.” She murmurs, her cheeks burning. How does he even look hotter up close? “Just tell me to move back if you want… or just move me out of the way.” She jokes awkwardly, only adding to her embarrassment. Hopefully, this session will be over before she makes even more of a fool of herself in front of Bucky.

“It’s okay.” Bucky smirks, running a hand through his few strands of hair, a sight that makes Y/N glad she’s laying down to witness. “You’re perfect, actually.” He chuckles. “Don’t tell the others I said this… but you’re my favourite client.” He winks.

She swears this man will be the death of her some day.

As Bucky continues the tattoo, he suddenly goes over a tender area, and she winces in pain. “You okay? You’re doing great, but let me know if you wanna stop, alright?” Bucky says. Gritting her teeth, Y/N nods.

“I’m good.” She gasps. "I just forgot how much that hurts."

It’ll all be worth it. It always is.

At least, getting to see Bucky makes it worth it, anyway.

“Good girl." Bucky smirks.

Fucker.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The remainder of the session passes in silence, and Y/N’s head swirls. If she told him the truth, laid her heart out on the line… would it be so bad?

She braces herself, opening her mouth to speak. But Bucky gets there first.

“You know Y/N, we’ve known each other for long enough that I feel like we’re friends. So the trust between us is solid enough.” He chuckles, refilling his ink.

In actuality, she and Bucky have known each other for almost three years. Not that she’s been counting or anything. And despite Bucky doing most of her tattoos, she’s been at the shop infrequently enough that she wouldn’t consider themselves ‘friends’. But the thought that Bucky considers them friends makes her heart do that funny thing it always does whenever she sees Bucky - when it somehow beats too fast and almost stops.

God, she wants him so badly.

“Yeah, that’s true. And besides, you’ve been up close and personal with me a lot.” She chuckles, another batch of heat spreading across her cheeks. Bucky laughs brightly, and Y/N grins just as wide.

“You’re right, I have.” He nods. “To be honest, by this point I’m convinced I could say or do anything, and you’d say ‘yeah!’, tattoos or otherwise.”

“Yeah!” she giggles.

“Okay.” Bucky muses, looking up at her with a smirk. “Go on a date with me then.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Please follow @onceuponastory-library and turn on notifications to be notified when I next post!

591 notes · View notes

bucksangel · 2 years ago

Text

i am screaming and yelling i love this

And Everything Nice

Pairing: Tattoo Artist!Bucky Barnes x Baker!Female Reader Summary: You visit the tattoo parlor when an uninvited guest shows up at the bakery. Word Count: Over 2.8k Warnings: Bad ex, mild (h)arassment, protectiveness, brief moments of insecurity, slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?). Graphics talent and thanks: Banner by @sgt-seabass. Divider by @firefly-graphics . Bucky edit by Nix. Moodboard by yours truly. A/N: More Hottie and Sugar from our Sin on Skin AU. ❤️ Thank you to @rookthorne for listening to me ramble about this part! Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby (thank you for spitballing), but any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

I am going to ask Bucky Barnes out.

After going through the closing checklist, Tess gave you another quick pep talk and said the only thing that would hurt if he turned you down was your pride. Deep down you knew it would hurt more than your pride if he said no, but you didn't say it out loud. She must have sensed it since she added she was certain he'd jump at the chance to date you.

"You got this," she said, giving you a quick hug. "Sorry to run, but-"

"Like I said, I got this," you said, waving her on. Normally you walked out together when you both closed the bakery, but she had somewhere to be. "Have fun!" you added as she rushed out.

Once you finished up a few minutes later, you strode to the door with your keys in hand and a smile on your face. Tomorrow was going to be a good day. You could feel it. And you would look Bucky in the eye with a smile as you asked him-

"Closing all by yourself?"

You weren't sure how you managed to not drop your keys, or not throw a punch, when you spun around and saw your ex in your personal space. You wanted to wipe the smirk off his face when you took a deep breath. "Thanks for sneaking up on me, Richard. Mind backing up a little?"

"Aww, did I scare you?" he asked as you quickly locked the door. "Not even a 'hello'?"

"We haven't talked since we broke up," you reminded him. "But hi and bye."

Richard charmed you in the beginning when you met him, like he did with so many others. Beyond his good looks, he was a confident man. It didn't take long to see that beneath the surface was a spoiled man child who was used to getting what he wanted, or thought he could buy everything. You included.

Breaking up with him was one of the best decisions you made, even if your mom disagreed.

"Where are you going in such a hurry? You should get a drink with me."

"I have plans," you lied, wondering what the hell he was even doing there.

"So? Break them. I want to talk."

The suggestion sounded more like an order and you weren't in the mood.

"I said I have plans. I'm sorry."

"Then why are you still in your work clothes?" he asked, gesturing to your outfit. "And who do you have plans with? Some new guy?"

"Because I'm changing later," you said, staring across the street as a smile spread on your face. "And not that it's any of your business, but yes. He's a tattoo artist."

You weren't sure why you said that. Maybe because you hoped Bucky really would be your guy. And because the thought of him also made you feel safe.

You half expected Richard to laugh as you walked around him, but he put his hand on your arm instead as his face twisted into a scowl. "You're not hanging out with him. You're getting a drink with me."

You wrenched your arm away before he could tighten his grip. "We aren't together anymore. So you don't get to show up out of nowhere and order me around," you said as you went to the curb.

"Don't act like a fucking brat when I'm trying to give you another chance."

I'm the brat?

"Not interested. Have a good night!" you said before you looked both ways and dashed across the street to Bucky's shop.

The entrance was cozier and more open than you expected, the sound of the needles bringing you a strange sense of comfort as you adjusted your bag on your arm. Pictures of various tattoos in different styles lined the red walls above the front desk and leather couches. You wished you had the time to pick out which works belonged to Bucky.

Another day.

"Hi! Welcome to Sin on Skin!" the man behind the desk cheerfully greeted you as he typed on the keyboard. Even sitting down, you could tell the man was built, his muscular arms covered in a variety of tattoos. He may have been intimidating if not for the glasses and warm smile. "Do you have an appointment?"

You glanced over your shoulder and saw your ex making his way across the street. "Sorry, I don't. Is Bucky here? I really need to talk to him."

"Oh, yeah. Just over there. If you want to take a seat, I can-"

"Thank you. I'll be quick," you smiled, hoping Bucky wasn't in the middle of an appointment.

You glanced around at some of the other artists as you walked over to the chairs and noted how exceedingly gorgeous they were. There was one with short dark hair and a beard that looked like he could kill someone with his tattoo gun if they stared for too long. The girl sitting at his station and the man behind him with shocking pink hair and bright smile both brought a ray of warmth to his almost dark aura.

Is it a prerequisite to work in the shop that you have to be good looking? And either look intimidating as hell or incredibly alluring?

You gripped your bag to keep your hand from shaking as you saw Bucky engaged in a quiet conversation with Steve, recognizing him from earlier. You were almost afraid to interrupt. "Hi?"

Both men turned toward you with smiles on their faces as Bucky pushed himself up from his stool. “Hey, Sugar. Couldn’t wait until tomorrow to see me?”

"Something like that," you said.

"Wait. That's Sugar?" the man with the pink hair asked. "No wonder you keep going to the bakery."

"Don't hit on her, Hal," Bucky warned, earning a chuckle from the other man. "Go bother Andy."

"He already is," a deep voice replied.

You would ask later just how much he spoke about you to the other artists. "I'm sorry if I'm interrupting. My ex was waiting for me outside of my shop and I kind of panicked and said I was meeting you and I rushed over here."

"Your ex?" Bucky asked, immediately moving forward to rub your arms in a soothing gesture. "Are you okay?"

"Hi! Welcome to Sin on Skin!" you heard the guy at the desk call out before you could answer.

Instead, you burrowed yourself against Bucky when you heard Richard shout your name. Rock solid and sturdy, his hold kept your nerves from bubbling to the surface. You had nothing to be afraid of.

So why am I shaking?

“You’re kidding me, right? This fucking asshole?” Richard scoffed as you looked over your shoulder at him. He didn't walk any closer, but his voice carried throughout the entire shop. "Like putting a bumper sticker on a piece of shit car, isn't it?"

“Richard, just leave.”

"Does your mom know you're spreading your legs for some tatted up lowlife? Still a disappointment, aren’t you?”

The jab cut deep as much as you wanted to ignore it. He knew that your mom judged every part of you. No matter what you did, it was never good enough.

You wouldn’t focus on that for the time being. "

You do not come into his shop and insult him. Bucky, I'm so sorry."

"Don't apologize for this asshole, Sugar. His opinion of me means less than nothing, trust me," he assured you before he faced your ex. "You, however, are banned from my shop. You can get out now or Jake will call the cops for trespassing. After you apologize to my girl for upsetting her. Your choice, Dick."

Your heart fluttered as you leaned into Bucky more.

His girl. It sounds right.

"Please. I can buy the shop tomorrow just to bulldoze it to the ground," he sneered before he jabbed a finger at you. "And you know what? Keep her. I tried to give her another chance, but she's not worth it. She's a lousy lay anyway."

The insult washed away the momentary good feeling and was the tipping point that brought tears to your eyes. It was humiliating enough that you were the root cause of a scene in Bucky's shop, but the jab in front of his employees and customers brought it to another level. Why did you think hiding in there was a good idea?

Does Bucky think I'm a total loser now?

It was only when you sniffled did you notice the entire shop had gone silent, a dangerous tension in the air when Bucky tightened his arms around you as Steve and Andy slowly got to their feet.

"Hey, why don't you and I go in the back?" the friendly girl at Andy's station suggested. "I think there's some snacks back there, right?"

Andy nodded and gave her the go ahead.

"Bucky," you whispered as you dared to look at him. A tear slid from your eye when you saw the murderous gaze on his handsome face. "I'm-"

Before you could register what was happening, he pulled your face toward his and kissed you. Fierce, yet gentle as he brushed the tear away with his thumb, you let him take the lead. A slow simmer of warmth crept into your cheeks as he parted your lips with his tongue and coaxed yours into his mouth. Your fingers twisted in his shirt as he deepened the kiss and shifted so you were pressed almost completely against him.

If this is how he kisses, he might actually kill me if we ever go further than that.

He breathed into your mouth as he stole the very oxygen from your lungs when he pulled away.

"Go in the back," he told you, his gaze dropping to your lips. Did he want to kiss you again or was it wishful thinking on your part? "I just need to take out the trash, finish up here, and I'll take you home, okay? I won't be long."

It was a feat that you didn't shed more years with how gently he spoke to you.

"Thank you," you whispered, unable to say much more.

"Let's check out that snack collection back there," you heard before you were pulled from Bucky's grasp.

You didn't look back at Richard when the girl tugged you away, but you heard a slight waver in his voice as yelled after you.

That's right. You should be afraid.

"Thank you," you said, wiping your eyes with your hand.

"No need to thank me. One of my good friends just got out of a bad relationship and I'm still a bit in my protective streak," she explained. "Are you okay?"

"I think so."

You tried to remember how Richard acted around other guys when the two of you dated. Had he been the jealous type and you just ignored it? Or did he only cause a scene because you showed him you wanted to move on?

Tess is going to flip when she hears about this.

"Well, whether they just throw him out on his ass or worse, he deserves it for what he said to you," she added before she told you her name. "Everyone calls me Sunny."

"He does," you agreed, introducing yourself as she handed you some water. "Bucky calls me Sugar."

"And you work in the bakery across the street?" she guessed.

"Co-owner," you said, the small talk calming you. "Do you work here or are you a client?" you asked, noticing that she didn't have any tattoos.

"New client. I work in an animal shelter," she smiled. "Grumpy out there is going to give me a sun tattoo."

"That's nice," you smiled back. It seemed fitting with her warm and bright presence. "I really do appreciate you bringing me back here."

It was somehow just as warm and inviting as the entrance, the couch worn and comfortable. You wondered how often Bucky came back here to relax and hang out in-between his appointments. Would he ever bring you back here if you stopped in to see him?

"I figured the amount of testosterone out there could be a bit overwhelming, but are you sure you're okay?"

"Other than being incredibly embarrassed, yeah."

Even though Richard was no longer your boyfriend, he just had to barrel back into your life and leave a mess in his wake.

"He's the one who should be embarrassed," Sunny said, wiggling her eyebrows. "Especially after seeing that kiss."

Your face warmed as you replayed it in your mind. The silver lining for showing up tonight was receiving such a passionate kiss from Bucky. It was difficult not to get swept up in the moment though and you told yourself it was likely just for show. A way for him to stick it to a guy who upset you.

Right?

"It was a really good kiss," you smiled.

"Oh, we all felt the heat. Trust me."

Both of you giggled until there was a soft knock on the door frame.

"Hey, Sugar. Trash is out on the curb," Bucky winked. "You ready to go home?"

Your heart fluttered as you smiled back. "Yeah, I'm ready."

You didn't live far away, but Bucky still insisted on taking you home. He even took you out the back way so you didn't have to see anyone. While he didn't specify exactly what happened with Richard, he assured you he wouldn't poke around either of your shops again. It made the drive home more pleasant knowing he looked out for you.

So much that you almost took his hand when he stopped outside of your place.

Almost.

"Thank you for everything," you said. "I'm really sorry about tonight."

"You have nothing to be sorry for. Not the first time we've dealt with assholes in the shop. Steve and I don't like bullies."

"I still feel bad," you said, wishing the feeling would go away.

"Please, don't," he whispered.

Your fingers twisted in your lap before you took a deep breath. "When you came into the bakery earlier today, I was going to ask you out," you told him, but refused to look at him. "But after that, it's probably a dumb idea. You shouldn't have to deal with that kind of trouble."

Maybe there's a better girl out there for you.

"You think one asshole ex is trouble?" he asked, leaning over to grasp your chin so you'd face him, goosebumps rising on your arms from his touch. "I can handle that."

"But what he said in your shop-"

"He did that to bring you down because he's an asshole. Guys like that don't want to see girls thrive without them."

You scoffed and mumbled, "I wonder what you'd think of my mom.

"I'm not afraid to stand up to anyone who tries to hurt you," he said, keeping a hold of your chin with a tender grip as your chest tightened. "You said you were gonna me ask out. Don't change your mind because of them."

"So, you really want to go on a date with me?" you asked.

"If I say 'yes', do I get to kiss you again?" he replied, running his thumb along your lower lip.

You were torn between sucking his thumb into your mouth or sinking into your seat. "Maybe we should get an actual date under our belts first. You only kissed me to prove a point or something."

Even if it felt like heaven.

"Or maybe I've been wanting to kiss you since I walked into your bakery and I want to kiss you again," he said, sliding his hand around to the back of your neck with ease. "Proving a point was an added bonus."

You looked at him wide eyed and subconsciously touched your lips. "Wait, you want to kiss me just because I asked you on a date?"

"I can give you a whole list of reasons," he said, his gaze flickering between your lips and your eyes. "And I'd love to go out with you. Friday night, Sugar?"

"It's a date, Hottie," you smiled when he leaned in.

But he didn't kiss your lips.

He brushed a kiss to your forehead, which somehow seemed more intimate.

"You had a rough evening. The next time I kiss you, I want it to because it's the right moment, just for the two of us," he explained when you furrowed your brows. "My girl deserves that."

A soft smile played at your lips as something warm welled up in your chest. He could have easily taken advantage of how vulnerable you felt by stealing another kiss, but he didn't. Even though you were into each other.

Going to see Bucky tonight was the right choice.

And you couldn't wait for your date.

Love them. Love the whole gang. Except Richard. Fuck that guy. And where are they going on that date? Love and thanks for reading! 💙

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

#bucky fic rec #tattoo artist!bucky #˗ˏˋ ꒰ angel’s library ꒱ ˎˊ˗

4K notes · View notes

avonne-writes · 8 months ago

Text

Tattoo artist Gale when?

#mota #buck x bucky #gale cleven #john egan #clegan #tattoo artist gale

135 notes · View notes

kikixreverie · 2 years ago

Text

I can’t stop thinking about tattoo artist!Bucky being all sweet and giving you praise while he does your tattoo.

“That’s it, doll. Doing really good. Just a little longer and we’ll take a break, okay?”

And your mind can’t stop wandering to a situation where Bucky would be saying the same things, only in a completely different context.

And when you have to clench your thighs together to provide some sort of relief to the throbbing he was causing between your legs, he’d give you this look, as if he knew, as if he was saying those things because he just knew the effect it would have on you.

But you’d stick it out till the tattoo was finished, biting down on your lower lip because of the pain, but also to distract yourself from his gloved hands on your skin.

And of course he waits till it’s finished to finally say it, “Good girl, sweetheart. All done.”

#would you guys be interested in a one shot like this?#because I definitely would #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #sebastian stan #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes drabble #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes headcanon #bucky barns x reader #tattoo artist bucky

604 notes · View notes

buckrecs · 2 years ago

Note

I was looking through your masterlist and I don’t think you’ve done this au….

Bartender bucky or tattoo artist bucky, honestly idc which one you choose to provide recommendations for(if you do)!:)<3

Tattoo Artist!Bucky

masterlist | req masterlist

I did tattoo artist!bucky this time, but if you send another req I am very willing to do bartender!bucky too😉😏

ONESHOT

Jacks and Sunshine by @rookthorne

You were the warmth and light to Bucky’s shadows and brooding nature – a match made in heaven, and it was a miracle that a certain someone realised as much.

Soft by @softlyspector

Bucky and the reader have been together for a few months. She wants him to stay the night with her, but he’s reluctant.

fingers by @buckycuddlebuddy

you couldn’t take your eyes off of his hands.

Sting by @adrinktostopyourthirst

TattooArtist!Bucky praising you during a session.

tattoo parlor by @alisonsfics

the beautiful artwork and craftsmanship wasn’t the only thing that kept you coming back to bucky’s tattoo shop.

american tattoo by @seventven

steve and bucky run a tattoo shop together in brooklyn. y/n, a friend of steve’s, decides to get inked. only bucky is present at the shop and he’s about to close it for the night.

inked by @buckys-black-dress

A Little Cover-up by @butwhyduh

You get a tattoo.

make it count by @serpienten

It’s cold and rainy when Bucky sees her for the first time. Within three minutes, he’s under her spell.

Starstruck Beginnings by @rookthorne

Shopping in your favourite art store with Bucky brings back the memory of your first encounter, and after so much time has passed, it was with fondness that you looked back on just how starstruck you were in his presence.

SERIES

A Touch of Ink by @deamstellarus

After a breakup with your ex, you decided to move to the small town where your long-time friend Sam lives, hoping for a change of pace and starting a new chapter in your life. You were prepared for a slower paced lifestyle, quaint diners, and a change of scenery. However, you didn't expect to be swept off your feet by two stunning pairs of blue-grey eyes.

Paws and Pins by @matchamunson

In which Bucky runs into the owner of the animal shelter across the street from his shop. (Social Media AU)

Fight For You by @revengingbarnes

Brooklyn, New York. At the annual local boxing championship, Y/N is the leading medical specialist on call. It’s a whole new environment, and despite the drastic change, she loves it. Bucky Barnes is the reigning boxing champion of Brooklyn. Virtually undefeated, this tattoo artist by day, boxer by night is someone that is now fighting his way into Y/N’s head. And she’s helpless in front of his winning streak.

Skin on Skin by @navybrat817

Hottie and Sugar

#bucky barnes fic rec #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes smut #winter soldier x reader #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes modern au #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst #tattoo artist!bucky #tattoo artist!bucky x reader #bucky barnes x baker!reader #bucky barnes social media au #bucky barnes smau

822 notes · View notes

newgirlintheneighborhood · 2 years ago

Text

Where do I find this bucky please and thank you

You Won't Forget Me

Pairing: bucky barnes x f!reader (any race), modern day AU

WC: 1.4k

Warnings: tattoos, needles, fluff

Summary: you lose a bet and have to face the consequences

A/N: fun fact, this is actually how I ended up with my hip tattoo! Though it says something different, I lost a bet to my friend and had to get a tattoo of whatever he wanted :) our story had a different ending lol but I figured i’d use it as inspo <3

main masterlist | one shot masterlist

fic title is from Fleetwood Mac's "Silver Springs"

You're buzzing with nerves, but not in a bad way as Bucky finishes setting up his equipment. You take a seat on the chair and lay back, knocking your feet together in anticipation.

"So, where's it going?" He asks, quirking an eyebrow at you. You roll your eyes; he already knows the terms of the deal, so why is he asking you again?

"Dealer's choice, Buck. Those were the terms," you say through gritted teeth, though you can't contain the laughter that follows. It was a stupid bet, and though you wish you'd been the winner, it isn't so bad to be in the chair right now.

"Right, how could I forget?" He scans your body, and you shiver under his gaze. His eyes land on your denim shorts, just above your right hip bone. "There," he says, poking the spot. You groan but slip off the table to remove your shorts, leaving you in the plain black panties you'd chosen for the day. You're so focused on not seeming awkward that you miss the way Bucky's face flushes at the sight of you. He hadn't really expected you to agree to the spot.

"Don't tell me what you're gonna do. It'll just make me wimp out," you say, returning to your position on the chair. Bucky hums in response and shifts your underwear to expose the skin he plans to tattoo on.

He takes his time cleaning the skin and preparing the stencil, fingers gently brushing the sensitive skin on your hip. You stare up at the ceiling, counting the tiny flecks in the tile. There are 78 on the one directly above you. Bucky clears his throat and announces that he's going to start.

The buzzing of the tattoo gun begins, and you feel the pinch of the needles tugging at your skin. You've gotten tattooed and pierced dozens of times, but you are more nervous for this one than any you've gotten in the past. Maybe it's because you don't know what you're getting, maybe it's because Bucky is so close to you, maybe it's because you can feel his breath on your skin. Whatever is making you nervous, you try to push out of your head and focus on your own breaths.

The pain is familiar, and it fills you with adrenaline. It is your favorite part of getting tattooed. You can't help but smile as you continue to count the dots on the ceiling, and the sound of Bucky humming lightly makes it all that much better. A few spots are more painful than others and it makes you cringe and press your fingernails into the palms of your hands, but before you even have time to think about the pain, it's gone.

"Fini!" Bucky says with that beautiful boyish grin on his face. You sit up as he wipes off the residual ink from your skin. It stings a bit, but you don't mind. He helps you sit the rest of the way up and points you toward the mirror. You pad over to it, and when your eyes land on the fresh ink, your breath catches in your throat. Bucky walks up behind you but keeps some distance.

"Buck, I--"

"Whaddya think?" He asks quietly, hands shoved in his pockets.

"I love it," you reply, still staring at the tattoo. It's in his handwriting, simple and neat. It's not too big and not too small. It'll still be legible even when it begins to fade. "time cast a spell on you but you won't forget me". It is a line from your parent's favorite song, which then became your favorite song. You sing it all the time. When you're sad, when you're happy. It reminds you of them, but it has also come to remind you of Bucky. Even though he is annoying as all hell, he's been there for you during all the hard times and all the good ones. He'd sing it with you even when everyone made fun of you for your soft spot for Fleetwood Mac.

"I'm glad," he says, walking up a bit closer to you. You become aware that you're just in your underwear and a t-shirt, but you don't mind too much. In a particularly bold move on your part, you close the distance and pull him into a hug. He wraps his arms around you, and the chill of his vibranium hand brushing against your bare skin sends shivers up your spine.

"It's perfect," you say, whispering against his neck. "How'd you think of it?" You ask, still holding him close. Bucky's grip on you tightens, and your knees go a little weak at the contact.

"It's your favorite song," he says, running a hand up your back and pressing it between your shoulder blades. "And I didn't want to give you something you're just gonna get covered up once it's healed." You huff out a laugh and step away from him before you decide to do anything else that could end in embarrassment.

You walk back over to your shorts and slide them on, careful of the new ink. Bucky places the saniderm dressing on your tattoo, and you zip up your shorts. You spare a glance out to the door and see the silhouettes of your friends in the lobby of the parlor, laughing about something funny. A pane of frosted glass separates the room and provides privacy, but their presence calms your nerves.

"Shall we?" You ask, gesturing with your head to the group outside. Bucky finishes putting his gear away and bumps your shoulder.

"We shall." Together you walk out of the private room and are greeted by the cheers of your friends, insisting on seeing your new ink. You indulge them and show off Bucky's handiwork. This time, you don't miss the way his eyes follow your curves down to your exposed skin. The way his face flushes at the sight of you, the way his smile spreads when he sees what he's done.

[Two months later]

Your tattoo has healed perfectly, and every chance you get, you run your fingers over the words. Whenever Silver Springs plays, you immediately think of the tattoo. Of Bucky's fingers on your skin. You notice that Bucky has a new reaction to the song as well. When it comes on, he searches the room for you, and when his eyes lock on yours, he smiles brightly. It makes your heart pound in your chest.

A week after getting the tattoo, Bucky made a move (finally!). You'd wanted him for so long, and apparently, the feeling was mutual.

On that fateful night, you'd been hanging out, watching a movie, when you noticed his fingers inching toward yours. Though it seemed like a childish thing to do, you pretended not to notice. As the movie played, you felt his pinkie finger reach yours, hooking them together. By the time the credits were rolling, you had found yourself tucked to Bucky's side, his warmth encompassing you fully. It was perfect; he felt like home.

You allowed autoplay to select the next film, but you couldn't find it in yourself to care what played next. All you could focus on was Bucky's eyes on you. His heated gaze seared into you. You tilted your head up to watch his face when without warning, he leaned in and kissed you.

The softness of his lips on yours surprised you. Bucky has always had such a hard exterior; he'd built walls around himself that took you years to break through. The gentle way he handled you, cradled your head, kissed you, was a direct contradiction to everything you'd known of the man. This was a new side of him.

As he kissed you, you held on to him as if he would blow away. You felt your head spinning, but you loved every second of it. It's what you'd been waiting for, praying for. Ever since you've been inseparable.

Tonight, he's in your bed. You're tucked into his side in nothing but his henley and your underwear. Bucky's fingers trail idly over your skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake. They reach the waistband of your panties, and he shifts them, revealing the ink he put in your skin two months ago.

Bucky pulls away from you and moves to sit, so his face is next to your hips. He brings his fingers back to your skin and traces over the words he wrote, remembering that day. After going over the last letter, Bucky leans down and kisses your tattoo. His lips are soft and sweet as they press into your sensitive skin.

You'll tell him one day that while he was pressing the needle to your skin and permanently marking you with his handwriting, this is precisely what you'd imagined. You imagined his hands on you, kissing you, feeling you. It was perfect, and you'll never forget how you feel in this moment.

Tagged: @peaches1958 @scxrletrecsmarvel @prettylittlepluviophile @writerwrites

If you would like to be tagged in any of my future works please let me know <3

#bucky barnes #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes marvel #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #James bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x yn #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes fanfic #tattoo artist!bucky #fic rec #bucky fic recs #marvel fic rec

269 notes · View notes

xxgoblin-dumplingxx · 1 year ago

Note

tatto artist bucky?! sign me the fuck up, i wanna know what he ends up designing on reader’s leg

Bucky leaned over his drawing board and growled. This was gonna be the hardest cover up he'd done in a while.

And he was less than thrilled. But. He had to try. Something. Anything. To try and give you back the confidence you should have. You were a pretty girl. And smart.

During the consultation, you'd asked a million questions. But they were the right ones. You wanted to know all about his experience and what he could do. And you managed to give him- not a lot about yourself. Neatly sidestepping questions that might have given away too much.

"Any luck?" Steve asked peering over his shoulder.

"I can work with foxes. And bluebonnets. what I can't figure out is how to work with the fucking thick ass lines to keep it from breaking through."

"Yikes- the fuck did he do to her?"

"Looks like he wanted that shit to hurt don't it?"

"And then some," Steve said frowning. "Christ."

Bucky rubbed the back of his neck, "Look Steve I-"

"Yeah yeah," Steve said helping himself to a soda out of the mini fridge. "Damsel in distress discount. I got it."

Bucky cringed, "This is gonna be a lot of work and I don't think she can afford it. Even after I take the deposit out."

"She must be a looker."

"And her car is older than I am."

#bucky barnes x reader #minors dni #ask answered #Bucky Barnes #tattoo artist!bucky #reader insert

369 notes · View notes

navybrat817 · 5 days ago

Note

Is tattoo artist!Bucky doing well?

Is Bucky doing well, nonnie? Yes.

Pairing: Tattoo Artist!Bucky Barnes x Baker!Female Reader

Word Count: Over 500

Warnings: Oral sex (f. receiving, m. referenced), established relationship, slight feels, Bucky Barnes

A/N: Just another manic Moanday.

Banner by the talented @cafekitsune

And why is Bucky doing well?

Because he’s currently on his knees in your kitchen, feasting on you like one of your delicious treats you make so well.

He couldn't help himself since you decided to wear a dress while you baked. You looked so domestic, so welcoming, so delicious, and what kind of boyfriend would he be if he didn’t flip your dress up and have a taste? He had watched you long enough from the doorway, and he didn’t allow you to protest when he hoisted you up onto the counter and silenced you with a deep kiss.

You giggled into his mouth and he happily swallowed down the sound. “Hey. I’m baking for you.”

“You bake every day and I love that,” he smiled, dragging your bottom lip between his teeth. “But I want the dessert between your thighs.”

“You're always hungry,” you teased, allowing him to drop to his knees and peel off your soaked underwear.

“I am. And you're always wet for me,” he smirked, your tattooed god spreading your legs with ease. He barely touched you and the fire within you had already been stoked. “You’re sweet and you act sweet, but you're also a naughty girl, Sugar.”

“I’m not just a naughty girl, Hottie.” You looked down at him as his eyes devoured the sight of your pussy. The same way he’d devour you with his mouth. “I’m your naughty girl.”

He brought that side of you out, the side that craved for him to bury himself between your thighs. Face or cock, whatever he’d give you. Your body would gratefully accept him.

“All mine,” he whispered, flicking your clit with his tongue and spreading fiery shocks through your body before he dipped his tongue down. His groan vibrated against you when you tugged on his hair. “Tastes so fucking good. Could eat you every day and never get enough.”

“What if I want a treat?” you moaned, your thighs trembling as his skillful tongue swirled patterns and letters. He traced the word “mine”, which nearly made you splinter around him. He followed it with a heart, which made your heart melt.

“What kind of treat?” he asked, your pussy throbbing when he slipped a finger in. He buried it up to the knuckle, and the ring around his finger had you throwing your head back.

“I have… leftover frosting. Let me…” you whimpered and took a breath. “Spread it on your cock and you can fuck my throat,” you rushed out.

It was silly, but you felt like a goddess when you took your boyfriend apart. The way he moaned your name, told you how good you were for him. Why wouldn’t you want to please him?

He groaned, pulling back to gently nip your thigh. “You’re too good to me, Sugar, but let me finish getting my sugar before you get yours.” he said, his voice husky. “And maybe I can give your pretty mouth and pussy some cream.”

“You did not just…” He dove back in and turned your words into a passionate cry.

And you got no baking done that afternoon, but you and Bucky were both plenty full by the end.

Nothing to see here, lovelies. Go about your business. ❤️ Love and thanks! ❤️

393 notes · View notes

ghostlyfleur · 1 year ago

Text

too fucking cute. i’m so in love!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐁𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | 𝐉.𝐁.𝐁

Pairing ✾ Tattoo Artist!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader Word Count ✾ 1.9k Event ✾ @buckybarnesevents Hot Bucky Summer | Week 5 - "When I first met you..." Warnings ✾ Swearing, pet names, tooth rotting fluff, Bucky is a flirt Author's Note ✾ I have a thing for meet cutes - sue me.

Inked Sun Masterlist | Hot Bucky Summer Masterlist

The art store you had been visiting for years was the same as ever – warm tones and homey vibes, organised by product and perfectly aesthetically pleasing to wander up and down the aisles.

It was a wonderland you would ever willingly get lost in.

A hand suddenly brushed your lower back, and you smiled. “You get all you need, Sunshine, baby?”

“I mean,” you hummed, turning to face Bucky. “I could get a lot more…”

“No,” Bucky deadpanned, face impassive par the raised brow. “You know the rules.”

You pouted at him, pleading silently, but Bucky only rolled his eyes and wandered off to the aisle of sketch pads and books. “You can get one more thing, that’s it,” he called over his shoulder. “No more than that.”

“Yes,” you cheered under your breath, ecstatic with the small win. With renewed excitement, you browsed the aisles of pencils and paints, a simple goal in mind. For a long while now, even before you had met Bucky, you had wanted to draw – capture the wonders in your mind and the beauty of the world around you.

In fact, it was in this very shop where you met Bucky for the first time. Butterflies filled your stomach at the memory – you had been so shy, so taken aback that he was even talking to you, that you were sure that the shock would be permanently etched onto your expression.

Birthday present shopping was always tricky – even more so when you were looking for something at the last damn second. The tinkle of the bell alerted your arrival, and you glanced over to see the smiling, friendly face of your friend and shop owner, Wanda. “Hey, you,” she greeted. “Back in again?”

“You know me, Wands,” you replied, shrugging. “I always leave it to the last minute.”

Wanda laughed and nodded before a fond smile made her eyes twinkle in the warm light. “Just let me know if you need help, alright?”

With a wave, you wandered through her shop, one goal in mind: a canvas of the best quality and maybe a few paints – who knew? You could walk out with a lot more; it was entirely dependent on the muse. Painting together with your friend was a tradition that you’d held for years now.

Humming a quiet song, you browsed the aisles for something to catch your eye when you side stepped and hit something solid. “Oh, shit–” You gasped, turning to see it was a person and not a shelf. The man was tall with cropped hair, a denim jacket over his shoulders, and bright blue eyes. “I am so sorry, oh my gosh–”

“You’re fine,” he replied, face blank. He quickly bent to pick up the paper you had knocked from his hands. Before you could offer more apologies, he straightened up and looked at you, gaze soft but considering. “No harm done.”

His stare pinned you in place, and your mouth opened slightly before you could stop it. “O-Okay, yeah,” you stuttered, cursing the overwhelming shyness that engulfed you whole and the damn butterflies that had taken refuge in your stomach. “I’m gonna- Uh, yeah. Bye.”

Before he could reply, you sidestepped him and rushed down the aisle to take refuge in the next one over, where more sketchbooks and pads were neatly lined up in rows on the shelves. Wanda looked up from behind the till with a sly smirk and a raised brow, as though she had heard your exchange with the handsome stranger, and you shot her a look that you hoped she’d take to heart – keep quiet.

Taking a deep breath, you began to look properly at the options available when you felt a presence next to you. “This one’s the best,” they said, voice perfectly deep and gravelly, and the sound made the cluster of butterflies in your stomach switch into frenzied flight. “You need to make sure the paper has the thickness for your medium, y’know?”

A tattooed hand moved into your field of vision, and you took a second to stare at the intricate designs woven into tanned, rough skin – peeking out from the rings and scarred calluses. Unbidden, your eyes travelled up their arm until you were face to face with the same man as before – the same one you had bumped into. His smile was small, gentle in nature.

“I love your tattoos,” you blurted, and your eyes widened slightly at the words that fell from your lips. But the man’s laughter was worth it – honeyed and sounding like molten chocolate, exactly like the ones you imagined from your romance books.

“Thanks, sweetheart, I did ‘em myself,” he replied. His other arm came into view, and you glanced at it to see even more designs – this time, a wolf and some sort of machinery.

“Wait,” you hesitated, looking into his face. A sudden realisation dawned on you – this was Bucky Barnes, the owner of one of the best tattoo shops in the area, and he was right in front of you. “Oh my god, you’re Bucky Barnes!”

“In the flesh,” Bucky laughed. He was grinning now, his eyes bright with mirth. “What’s a beautiful ray of sunshine doin’ here, huh?”

You laughed nervously, moving your hand to rub at the back of your neck on instinct. “I, um. I came to pick out a present.”

“Oh?”

“It’s my friend’s birthday, and we paint together sometimes,” you continued. Bucky was still smiling, but his gaze was flicking between your lips and your eyes as you spoke. The butterflies continued to flutter at a frenzied pace, each bouncing off the walls with fevered excitement. You took a subtle deep breath, hoping it would calm the nerves that were beginning to boil over.

“Sounds like fun, doll,” Bucky said, still with that damned smile on his lips. “I’m in here picking up supplies for the idiots back in the shop.”

You chuckled quietly and turned back to the paper that lined the shelves. Bucky’s hand reached out before you could look closer at the options and grabbed at least several pads, the paper bending slightly in his grip. “I best keep goin’,” Bucky sighed. “I’ll catch you at the till.”

“Okay,” you squeaked.

Bucky winked and made his way back over to the aisle of pencils, leaving you dumbfounded, standing rooted to the spot in shock. “What the fuck,” you murmured, wringing your hands. “Just… What the fuck.”

With haste, you chose some sketch and canvas pads to share with your friend. Then you wandered over towards the paints – resolutely ignoring the way Wanda’s eyes followed you or how Bucky dawdled in front of the selection of coloured pencils, phone in hand and a startlingly serious glare on his face.

The sound of your footsteps on the wooden floor drew his attention, and the glare softened only slightly, as he looked over at you. You smiled back at him and then looked at the vast paint selection – deciding to stick with contrasting colours.

Before long, your arms were overflowing with paints and paper and canvases. “Hey,” you said, coming round the corner of the aisle to see Wanda waiting patiently, that sly smirk still on her lips. “I’m finally done.”

“You should have a rule that you can’t buy the whole damn store, Sunshine,” Bucky piped up from behind you, a low chuckle in his tone. You jumped slightly, turning to look over your shoulder and roll your eyes at him.

“Oh, shush, Bucky,” Wanda teased, “you leave my girl alone.” Her hands moved to grab a bag, and she began to scan your acquired goods, her eyes glancing up and flicking between the two of you.

“She’s the one that bumped into me!” Bucky cried, widening his eyes. “Ain’t my fault.”

“And I apologised,” you clipped back.

“I dunno ‘bout that, doll,” Bucky replied, placing his books and massive array of pencils on the counter. “I would feel better if you let me pay for your supplies. Can’t deprive a ray of sunshine like yourself of that beautiful smile, can I?”

“Oh my god,” you breathed, hiding your face in your hands.

Wanda chuckled next to you. “You two are so cute–Buck here is only nice around me. He’s a grumpy bastard most of the time. It’s nice to see.”

“Wands,” Bucky groaned, glaring at her. You peeked through your hands to watch the exchange. “Seriously?”

“What? I’m telling the truth,” Wanda said flippantly, continuing to scan your items until she was finished – then she started scanning Bucky’s. You went to open your mouth, but she shot you a look. “I won’t hear a word against it, darling.”

A beat of silence passed as you fidgeted with your hands. You glanced up at Wanda quickly, and she pointedly glanced between you and Bucky as Bucky stared off at something in the distance.

Fuck it, you thought. “I-I just, I thought you were awesome,” you whispered, looking at Bucky through your lashes. He turned and looked at you, smiling while crossing his arms over his chest. “I’ve been a fan for so long, and I just can’t believe you’re here–talking to me.”

“Aw, sweetheart,” Bucky said softly. “It’s good to meet you too, why don’t you come back to the shop with me–you can meet the idiots. My treat.”

“Really?” You rushed, excitement flooding your body at the prospect of meeting the entirety of 107th Ink. “I would love to, oh my god.”

Bucky winked. “Good–I have a feeling they’d love you, Sunshine. I have definitely enjoyed your company.”

“Alright, love birds,” Wanda laughed. “Here you go.”

“We’re friends!” You spluttered, and Bucky roared with laughter, shaking his head as he paid. “Wands–”

“It doesn’t matter, doll,” Bucky cut in, his eyes flashing with something. “Nothin’ wrong with a bit of flirtin’ between friends, is there?”

Ice cold realisation flooded your mind. It wasn’t everyday chatter, you were too damn starstruck by meeting an idol to realise he was openly flirting with you – Bucky Barnes, the stoic and grumpy tattoo legend, flirting with you.

“No,” you whispered, abashed and overwhelmed. “No, there isn’t.”

Bucky didn’t appear to hear you. “Alright, Wands, see you next time.” The floors creaked under his boots as he turned to walk towards the door, and you followed quickly, waving over your shoulder at a giggling Wanda. “Let’s go meet the idiots,” Bucky remarked, grinning at you while he adjusted the bags in his hands.

“Okay,” you replied, falling into step next to him on the footpath. “Let’s go.”

A noise from behind you startled you from the memory, and you glanced over your shoulder to see Bucky talking to another customer – expression stoic and blank as he discussed what looked to be the difference between different pencils. It was endearing, so close to how you had met him.

You observed for a moment longer until Bucky noticed you staring, and he departed the customer’s company to walk over to you. “You alright, baby?”

“Yeah,” you sighed happily, grinning at him. “Just remembering how we met.”

Bucky chuckled. “You were so damn shy–I thought if I flirted with you anymore, you would have keeled over and died on the spot.”

“I probably would have,” you said, shaking your head. “I was so starstruck and nervous to realise it was you flirting until you paid for my things.”

“That’s alright, sweetheart,” Bucky murmured, throwing an arm over your shoulder to direct you to the counter where Wanda awaited, a smug smile on her lips. “You’re mine now. That’s all that matters.”

↠ 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐚𝐨𝟑 ↞

#comment reblogs ♡#fic recs #bucky barnes #tattoo artist!bucky #grumpy!bucky

413 notes · View notes