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trasheapknowsall · 7 months

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When young Morticia Parker, freshly orphaned and confused, sees an ad for a ballet class, she begs may and Ben to let her try it out, and after some negotiation, they take her to a try out class, and that's the day she bacame a dancer.

When Morticia met Harry Osborn, they didn't get along, he thought she was a dumb girl, and she thought he was a pretentious ass (- even if she didn't actually know what it meant), but when she defended him against some dumb kid with raised fists and bared teeth, they had quickly become attached at the hip.

Once harry found out about the ballet class, he insisted on coming to every rehearsal and every show and competition, and when the girls needed a male partner he was happy(albite shy) to be of help.

At some point Morticia found herself dancing as the male partner due to the lack of them in the class, but she didn't mind, infact she really liked it.

At some point, when harry and Morticia started bickering, he called her-"just a stupid girl" and she couldn't have that. She replied with a venomous " I'm not a stupid girl! I'm a PARKER!". Harry didn't call her anything else since.

At some point Parker stopped wanting to go to classes, she stopped wanting to do anything really, she shut down. Later on when May and Ben walked in on her babysitter holding her down they understood why.

After that, when Parker started dancing again, it was to heal, it was to breathe.

And this time around, when they went to court, and won another case, parker kept dancing through it, to heal, to breath, to live.

When Parker met Tutu, it was like a breath of fresh air. The first time they met, she made him laugh so hard he spent 10 minutes on the floor recovering. The first time they met, it was like someone opened a window In a room that had no air.

Parker and Tutu bacame partners in every sense of the word. Whenever they could, they would dance together, they would cover for each other, prank each other, blamed each other and laughed at each other.

When Parker, a young(so very young) nerd, went on a field trip to Oscorp, was bitten, and gained powers, she didn't want to do anything about it, but then uncle Ben was shot. He was shot and she was at fault. And the only thing she could do, was take his knowledge, and perform it the best she could.

'with great power, comes great responsibility '

Parker kept dancing, she danced like her life depended on it.(it almost did)

Parker kept dancing, and she kept up her grades, and she kept up aunt may, and she kept fighting on the streets. And the only thing that kept her up, was Tutu.

Tutú. Tutú that held Parker through tears and breakdowns, that talked her down from a distance with flashbacks and panic attacks, that held her hand through the grief and the heartache, that held her back on rooftops and bridges, that stitched parker up from stab wounds (pricks) and split knuckles.

Parker got batter, Parker became spider-man.

At first, when people started calling her spider-man, she almost corrected them. But then she figured out that she couldn't care less, in fact, she kind of liked it.

Parker kept dancing.

And Then parker disappeared.

Parker was gone and May and Tutu were left picking up the pieces for their life they had left.

Parker was gone, but she and Tutu kept dancing.

Every time Tutu was dancing, jumping in the air, or twirling around the room, she felt like Parker was there, hands light on her waist, guiding her through the movements, whispering praises in her ear.

Every time parker was dancing, a routine that was ingrained in her head, she felt Tutu there, clapping cheerfully in the mirror, hands light as they help her into a new position.

Then parker was back.

Parker found out her aunt was in the hospital and wasn't going to wake up anytime soon, and didn't know what else to do except dance. So she went to the studio, and did just that.

When Parker came to the studio every day for a week spending hours upon hours in different rooms, with different people, it took her just that amount of time to realize that someone wasn't there.

Tutú was dancing, but she couldn't go back to dancing in a place where she's expecting someone she knows isn't coming.

It took time, but when a friend asks her to come help her with rehearsals, she reunites with parker, and it's full of kisses, and hugs, and tears, and a couple breakdowns.

When the internship with stark, that parker gained after spending some recovery time in the tower, becomes too close and personal, she tries running away, but like time and time again, Tutu was a lifeline and a fresh breath of air.

When Parker brought in James(fucking)Barnes to a rehearsal, tut almost had an aneurysm, asking him questions and staring at him with wide eyes, and Parker was pleased to see the nerd deep in her heart come out.

So they danced.

They danced, and they fought, and they talked, and hugged, and kissed, and they sang, and they fell in love.

They slept, and they were silent, and they cried, and they breathed, and they fell in love.

After all is it even worth it, if you aren't that tad bit in love with your best friends?

Cause they know that it totally is when they are.

Tutú knows that being in love with her best friends means everything is just a tad MORE. It's feeling at peace when they talk to her, it's the buzz under her skin when they touch it's the fireworks in her brain when they laugh, it's the pleased feeling in her chest when they smile.

Parker knows that being in love with her best friend means everything is better. That everything is more peaceful next to her, is having coffee breath on each other's faces, is the butterflies in her stomach when they spend time together, is the thrill of living next to her.

Together, they know falling in love with their best friend like a waterfall that they want to drown in, they know it like quite peaceful mornings, they know it like aching muscles, sweat and a smile, they know it like whispered promises they always managed to keep, they know it like grief and tears, they know it like they know the other.

I'm not sure where I'm going with this, but it might be a start for a fic, so if you want this to be, help me, give me plots, ideas, quirks, even characters.

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lostgirlmuseum · 5 months

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The Swan and the Soldier

^made w/ pinterest

Pairing: tfatws!Bucky x f!dancer!reader

Summary: Bucky is signed up to act in the Nutcracker against his will. But it isn’t all bad. At least not after he meets the cute costume designer.

Words: 5.6k (oops)

Warnings: Mention of an injury + brief description of pain, poor writing at times, lemme know if I missed anything

A/N: I really hope this isn't complete dog shit

(Dividers by me😎)

“You want me to what?”

Bucky dropped his sandwich back onto his plate.

“I was gonna do it but I’m too busy to make every rehearsal.”

Bucky had been staying in Louisiana for the past month, finally taking a break from going from fight to fight. Sam encouraged him to stay with him at Sarah’s place, which Bucky did for a while, but after a couple of weeks, he decided to rent his own place. He was still near to Sam, and was at his house nearly every day, seeing as he was only a fifteen-minute drive away. Bucky just felt like less of a burden this way.

“And I’m not busy?” Bucky countered, staring at Sam from across the kitchen table, where they were taking a quick lunch break before getting back to the boat.

“Well—”

“Shut up.”

“It would mean so much to AJ. It’s his first dance recital and I think he would be a lot less nervous if someone he knew was on stage with him.”

“I’m not a ballerina, Sam.”

“You don’t have to be!” He quickly uttered, putting down his own sandwich. “They just need a couple of parent volunteers to step in and play the adults at the beginning of the show.”

“I haven’t liked dancing since the 40’s. And I don’t know how I feel about being on stage. Would I have to wear a costume?”

“It’s the Nutcracker.” Sam raised an eyebrow and gave Bucky a judgmental once over. “I don’t think it fits the show to have you dressed like an angsty motorcyclist.”

“Sam, I don’t think I can—”

“Uncle Bucky!” A cheerful voice entered the room as AJ came bounding up to the table.

“Hey, kid,” Bucky smiled, giving the boy a quick fist bump.

“Uncle Sam told me you would be a part of my recital!”

“He said what now?”

“What?” AJ asked, oblivious.

“Nothing, I—AJ, could you give Uncle Sam and me a second?”

AJ nodded and skipped back outside into the sun. Bucky glared over at Sam.

“So maybe I jumped the gun a bit…”

“Samuel.”

“You can say no,”

“You know I can’t say no now!” Bucky flung his hands out, exasperated.

“You can! You’ll just disappoint him. But if that’s what you want to do—” Sam trailed off, taking a bite out of his turkey and provolone.

“This is manipulation.”

“Is it working?” Sam mumbled and swallowed.

Bucky shook his head and stared at his plate. “You owe me.”

“Big time! Promise.”

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Bucky mumbled, planting his face in his palms.

“Rehearsals are Tuesdays and Thursdays,” Sam got up from the table and grabbed his now empty plate, “you’re making the kid really happy.”

“Yeah, yeah. To be clear, I am doing this for him. Not you. I don’t give a shit about you.” He pointed.

“Love you too, Buddy.”

Bucky found himself that very Thursday at the ballet studio, in a small group of parents, as a petite young woman—well, she looked about 60, but compared to Bucky, she was young—introduced herself, a southern accent clear in her cheery tone.

“Welcome parents and volunteers! Most of you already know me, but I’m Ms. Cindy, the head of this program and this year’s Nutcracker! I’d like to start by thanking all of you for taking time out of your busy schedules to be here and support us and your children. It’s you who keep this dance studio up and running, and I’m so grateful for that. Throughout today, you’ll each get called to get your measurements taken so we can be sure that the costumes are ready before the performance. And as for roles, we’ll figure that out at the end of class. I have to go teach the little ones, but feel free to take a seat and watch the choreography your students have been learning all season!”

Bucky followed the others, who seemed to already be acquainted with each other, into a small observing room attached to the studio where AJ was practicing. Bucky stuck himself in the back corner and watched AJ through the one-sided mirror for only a couple of minutes when his name was suddenly called.

“James Barnes?”

Bucky looked up to see a woman standing in the doorway. He ignored the glances that turned his way as he followed the woman out the door.

Did they know who he was? Did they know what he had done? Or maybe they had no idea. Maybe they were judging him for not engaging with them in polite conversation, maybe they thought he was weird for hiding silently in the corner.

Bucky pushed the thoughts out of his head as the (attractive, he might add,) woman opened the door for him into a new room. It wasn’t huge, but it wasn’t a closet either, and Bucky immediately noted the lines of clothing racks stuffed with colorful dresses that lined the walls.

“I just need to get your measurements quickly for your costume. I can take them now, or if you’re more comfortable, I can send you a list of measurements I need and you can get those numbers to me on Thursday if you’d prefer.”

Bucky thought for a moment. He wasn’t entirely sure how to take his own measurements, and he sure as hell did not want Sam of all people helping him. On the other hand, having a stranger so close to him sounds embarrassing and stressful. But he saw the kindness in her eyes, and oddly enough, he felt he could trust her.

“Now is fine."

“Sounds good.” She gave the sweetest smile he had ever seen and told him where to stand. He took off his jacket with ease, feeling somewhat comfortable knowing he had a long-sleeved shirt under to hide his metal arm. He kept his leather gloves on, and she said nothing.

She demonstrated to him how to hold his arm, and he obeyed, holding his right arm out and bent at the elbow. She chatted as she brought the tape measure along his arm. “Which kid is yours?”

“Oh, none of them.”

He noticed the subtle tilt of her head.

“I mean, I’m not a dad, but I’m AJ’s uncle. Well, a friend of his uncle but,”

Luckily, she stopped his ramble before he could truly embarrass himself.

“Oh, you’re Bucky?” She dropped the tape to her side and smiled. “I’ve met Sam a couple times, but I’ve heard all about you and him from Sarah.”

“Oh? All good things I hope?”

He asked in a lighthearted tone, but in reality, he was terrified of the things she’d heard about him.

“Only good things.” She grinned and grabbed the pencil behind her ear to scribble a number on a chart.

“That’s a relief.” His eyes scanned the room, trying to think up conversation to fill the silence. “So are you a parent volunteer?”

“Not a parent, no. I used to be a part of this program growing up. It’s done so much for me, and I wanted to stay connected, so I help out here and there when I can. I mostly fit the costumes.”

“That’s cool.”

Cool. Cool. Cool response Bucky. Ask her a question, dammit.

“Do you still dance?”

“Not anymore. Can you put both arms out to the side please?” She asked, and Bucky lifted his arms so she could measure his chest. She continued to make conversation as she wrapped the tape around him. “AJ is a great student. He has a lot of potential, he just needs to find his confidence. And he’s a great kid. You’re a lucky uncle.”

“I am,” Bucky responded, trying desperately to not freak out at how close she was to him, and how she was only going lower, as she moved to his waist.

She took a break to write down a couple more numbers and returned to him.

“Now I need a hip measurement, so I have to measure around your butt. Is that okay?”

Bucky gave a convincing nod. “Do what you gotta do.”

‘Do what you gotta do’? What the hell am I saying?

He avoided looking at her and held his breath as she brought the tape around his hips.

“Just a couple more measurements and you’ll be out of here,” she assured, dropping the tape from his hips. “You can put your arms down now.”

Bucky let his arms rest at his sides.

She quickly went about measuring his legs and finished a couple of minutes later.

“You’re all good to go, Mr. Barnes, thank you!”

“You can call me Bucky,” he tried to hide his bashful smile and started to exit out the door, but stopped and turned at the last moment. “What was your name again?”

“Oh, I’m Y/N.”

“It was nice to meet you, Y/N.”

He liked the way it felt on his tongue. With that, he said goodbye and returned to the observing room.

Thirty minutes later class was nearly over. All that was left on the agenda for the day was to form the groups.

“So it seems we have an odd number…Lois, is this everyone?” Ms. Cindy asked, looking over to her assistant.

“Everyone that signed up, yes.” Lois, a shorter girl with an auburn bob, tapped on a clipboard.

“Let’s just see how this goes. Mr. and Mrs. Tudor will be group one, Mr. and Mrs. Malone will be group two, Mrs. and Mrs. Cardoza will be group three, and that leaves Mr. Barnes…”

“We could have him be a single parent to his group?” Lois offered, looking up from her list.

“We could, but then who would he dance with at the party scene?”

Bucky swore he saw a literal lightbulb light up above Ms. Cindy’s head as her gaze fixated somewhere in the back of the room where you were simply passing by.

“Oh, Y/N? Dear?” She called in a uniquely falsetto voice.

“Yes, Ms. Cindy?” Y/N answered, pausing.

“I realize you’re already doing our costumes, but would you be interested in volunteering as one of the parents? We are short a person.”

“Oh, um…”

“You can think about it Dear. It’s no trouble if you feel that it’ll take up too much time, we appreciate you for your dedication to the costumes.” Ms. Cindy was careful to add.

Despite her initial hesitance, Y/N spoke up.

“I can do it.”

“Are you sure?” Ms. Cindy blinked, surprised by the answer.

“Yeah,” she breathed, “yes. I’ve already got measurements, all I need to do is submit an order. And I can’t tailor anything anyways until the shipment comes in.”

“A round of applause for our beautiful and dedicated Y/N, everyone!” Ms. Cindy cheered and began clapping her hands in a circle. The parents all joined in, and Bucky gave a quiet few claps. “That means Mr. Barnes and Y/N will play the fourth couple. Splendid!”

Lois tapped Ms. Cindy on the shoulder and pointed to her watch. Time was almost up. Ms. Cindy was fast to get back to business.

“Now let’s quickly assign each group their children, and then we can end rehearsal.”

“Buck, I’ve got some good news.” Sam’s voice flowed through Bucky’s phone.

It was Tuesday morning, and Bucky had been up and dressed since seven in the morning, eager to pick AJ up, even though class wasn’t until 5 p.m. He was currently lying on the couch, watching the clock tick by.

“What, you finally learned to use the potty like a big boy?” Bucky mocked.

“It was one time. ONE. TIME. You know I don’t fuck with clowns!”

“I don’t like clowns either, but you don’t see me shitting myself at the Halloween Festival.” Bucky quietly chuckled.

“First of all, I didn’t ‘shit’ myself. I peed. A little. And second of all, I had a lot of hot chocolate beforehand, and my bladder was at max capacity, and—why the hell am I explaining this to you?”

“Because you know I’m never going to let you live it down.”

“Moving on,” Sam sighed, “I was calling to tell you that you don’t need to be in the performance with AJ anymore.”

Bucky shot up from his lying position. “What do you mean?”

“My schedule freed up a bunch so I can take AJ and be in the show now.”

“Oh.”

Bucky slumped back onto the cushions, dejection dripping from his voice. Sam clearly picked up on it.

“What do you mean, ‘Oh’? I thought this was good news for you. I know I forced it onto you and all, and your thing isn’t really being on stage in front of a bunch of people.”

Bucky picked at the edges of his fingers, carefully considering his next words.

“I mean it’s not my thing, but—I don’t know, I feel like I’ve committed. And I get to spend some time with AJ, y’know? And, truth be told, it’s not all bad.”

There was a pause on the line before Sam’s voice rang through.

“That’s awfully sweet Buck. And very out of character for you.”

“Shut the fuck up, I can be nice.”

“Yes, of course. Bucky Barnes, the world’s famous sweetheart, how could I forget?”

“I’m hanging up now,” Bucky warned.

“Bye, metal man.”

“Fuck off bird brain.” Bucky was about to hang up, but quickly added in a serious tone, “I’ll be there this afternoon to pick AJ up.”

“You’re a good man.”

“Whatever.”

“Welcome back everybody!” Ms. Cindy’s high voice rang. “We are going to practice the beginning of the show where the families enter the party. We’ll take it group by group, so let’s start with group one, the Tudors. Your family is super excited for this party, so we’ll have you enter stage right and I need the children to be skipping and bubbly.”

Ms. Cindy instructed the groups one by one. Eventually, she got to Bucky’s group, which he shared with you and four kids, including AJ.

“And our final group, group four, is the family that does not want to attend. The parents should be trying to get the kids to smile, and at least act like they are happy to be there.”

Bucky let you take the lead and simply followed what you did. He walked beside you, stopped when you stopped, turned when you turned.

“Good, now make it look like you are trying to get the kids to smile.”

Bucky copied the way you pointed to your cheery smile and did his best to ignore the embarrassment bubbling in his chest.

The comically grumpy—and much better actors than him—kids sighed and plastered on cheery expressions.

“Good, and you can continue walking.” Ms. Cindy ordered.

Group four finished the short trek across the stage successfully. For such a simple task, Bucky had felt surprisingly nervous.

Ms. Cindy quickly gave her praise and ordered everyone to start over. As Bucky and his group were going back to the line, she offered some advice.

“Y/N and Mr. Barnes, could you try holding hands? You don’t look as ‘coupley’ as everyone else.”

Bucky gulped. Of course you don’t look as ‘coupley’ as everyone else, all the other couples are actually couples, and married for God’s sake!

You, on the other hand, simply said “Okay.”

“Group one, go,” Ms. Cindy called, and the Tudors began to cross the makeshift stage.

The line moved forward, and Bucky with it. He began to sweat a little.

Hold your hand? With my left hand? My metal hand?

She simply glanced at him and gave him a small smile.

“And group two,” Ms. Cindy called.

Everyone stepped forward.

The good news is that Bucky was wearing his gloves, but surely she’d notice his hand felt different and think he was weird. Although, did she already know about his arm situation? She did mention that she’d heard about him and Sam from Sarah. Maybe she already knew, and wouldn’t care?

“Group three!”

Bucky looked back at the kids trailing behind him and spotted AJ beaming right back at him. Suddenly, Bucky felt ridiculous.

Bucky, you’re being an idiot. Be a man and hold her hand. It’s not that deep. You’re doing this for AJ.

“And four,”

He grabbed her hand and started to walk with her. The first thing he noticed was how small her hand felt in his. It gave him an unfamiliar tingly feeling in his chest. He wasn’t sure he liked it, but it was better than anxiety.

He tried his best to puff out his chest and mimic her confidence as they walked. Bucky stopped halfway through, like they were supposed to, and turned to face the kids like last time. He pretended to point to his smile and finished the walk across the stage.

“Excellent! Let’s move on.”

Bucky managed to make it through the entire class without sweating his clothes off from nerves.

“You ready to go, AJ?”

AJ yelped, “Wait! I want you to meet one of my friends!” He dramatically waved over to a little girl with a sunflower barrette in her hair who came skipping over. “This is Ava.”

“Hi, Ava.” Bucky gave an awkward smile.

The little girl looked up at him unphased.

“Hi, Mr. Bucky. So are you really a superhero?”

Straight to the point, huh? “Oh—um,”

“He is!” AJ butted in, “He’s friends with my Uncle Sam, they save the world all the time!”

Ava crossed her arms across her chest and jutted a leg out.

“So can you fly?” She squinted.

“Nope, I can’t fly.” Bucky began to rub the back of his neck.

“Can’t your Uncle Sam fly?” She asked, looking at AJ with skepticism.

“Yep!”

“So if you can’t fly, what can you do?”

Before Bucky could even begin to stutter, Y/N appeared.

“Hey, Ava! I think your mom is looking for you.” She said, placing a hand on the girl's shoulder.

“Okay, I gotta go. Bye AJ,” Ava quickly spouted and ran off towards the doors.

“Bye!” AJ shouted.

Bucky noticed Y/N holding his blue cap out to him.

“I think you forgot your hat.” She spoke softly.

“Didn’t even realize, thanks.”

“It’s no problem, Bucky.”

Bucky was about to give a lopsided grin when AJ interjected,

“Only friends and family call him that.”

“Oh, I’m sorry! James, then.” She brought her hand to her cheek.

“No, no, Bucky is fine,” Bucky quickly corrected, “you can call me Bucky.”

“You’re sure? I don’t mean to overstep,”

“You aren’t, I like it when you call me Bucky.”

He instantly felt his cheeks get warm at his confession. Before she could respond, he quickly changed the subject.

“Oh, by the way, I wanted to let you know that I can’t be here at the next rehearsal. AJ will be here, but I completely forgot that I’ve got an appointment that day.” A monthly check-in with Dr. Raynor that he forgot to move. “I don’t know if you want me to meet somewhere instead, or I can just come early on Tuesday and you can catch me up to speed or…I mean whatever you think is best.”

“If you want, we can meet on Friday at my place. I can send you the address if you’d like?”

“Yeah, yes, sure, let me get my phone—” he fumbled while grabbing it out of his pocket, “what’s your number?”

“Hey, come on in!” Y/N appeared behind the crisp white door of a cute house, not unlike the Wilson’s, and gestured inside before grimacing. “Sorry, I should’ve asked before, are you cool with dogs?”

Bucky nodded.

She gave a sigh of relief and fully opened the door. Bucky couldn’t help but smile at the graying corgi staring back at him.

“This is Frank,” Y/N said, bending down to bring the panting dog into her arms.

“Hi, Frank.” Bucky greeted, giving the dog gentle pets with his right hand. “Your house is lovely,” he added after catching a glance around.

“Oh, thanks!” She smiled, walking into the living room area to set the dog down on the couch. “This is actually my parent’s house, I’m just house and dog sitting for the week while they’re out of town. Usually, I live in my apartment.”

“Is this where you grew up?” Bucky asked, eyes searching the place. He noted the multitude of picture frames lining the wall and the slightly worn couch.

“The first eighteen years of my life. I told myself I’d be out of Louisiana by the time I went to college, but clearly that didn’t happen.”

“Where did you want to go?”

“New York, San Francisco, I don’t know, maybe even Australia or France.” she laughed at the absurdity and sighed. “C’est la vie,”

Bucky stuck his thumbs in his pockets and stared down at his feet, unsure of what to do next.

“Can I get you anything? Water? Iced Tea? I can make some coffee. Are you hungry?”

“Just water is fine,”

“Sure, one second.”

Bucky took the opportunity to explore the room. His curiosity was set on the shelf beside the fireplace, and the multitude of shiny awards it adorned.

Several faux gold figures of ballerinas and a plaque filled the space, as well as what looked to be a photo album. Bucky thought better than to touch it, however, he did notice the significant lack of dust on it compared to the trophies.

“I see the obnoxious shrine of my dancing days has caught your attention.”

Bucky spun around, cheeks a little pink at the notion of being caught wandering. He was looking for the right thing to say as you took a seat on the couch and placed the water on the coasters.

“Looks like you’re an amazing dancer.” He nodded, hoping that it was the appropriate thing to say.

She ducked her head at the compliment. “I was okay.” She pointed to just beyond his shoulder at the photo album. “You can look at it if you want,” she offered, clearly sensing his curiosity.

Bucky grabbed the binder from its spot on the shelf and took a seat next to her. He slowly opened the book to the first page.

There you were, 4 years old in a bright pink tutu, beaming at the camera. The page was covered in cute stickers and artistic swirls.

“My mom has a knack for crafty things,” she said, vaguely gesturing to the book.

Bucky hummed and began to gingerly flip through the pages. It was odd but endearing seeing you change through each photo and page, but one thing that stayed constant was your eyes. In every photo they had the same sparkle, the same light. It looked so right on you, but he didn’t recognize it in you now.

Bucky stopped on the page dedicated to age 17 and marveled at the costume you were wearing. He couldn’t look away from the intricate feathers and sequins.

“That was for our Spring production of Swan Lake.”

Bucky turned to see a subtle smile on her lips. She was looking at the book, but it seemed as if she was seeing right through it.

“You were the swan?”

“Odette, yeah.”

Bucky turned the page once more, except this time there was no photo—just the outline of where one would be on a mostly blank page, minus the glittering bold number “18”.

“Anyway, the choreography,” she quickly chimed, her attitude dramatically changing, “I’ve got the video right here, we can watch it first.”

She snatched the album up and placed it back on the shelf before handing him her phone. Bucky watched the thirty-second clip of two of the volunteers—possibly the Tudors if he remembered correctly—as they danced a shockingly simple routine.

“That’s it?” He cocked an eyebrow.

“That’s it.” She assured. “Ready to try it?”

“I might be a little rusty, it’s been a while since I’ve danced.”

She turned on the music and started counting under her breath.

They started by facing each other, their right palms in front of them, and placed against each other. They both took a step in, a step out and circled around the other to which they were now in the opposite places. She curtsied, he bowed, and then they repeated the step in, step out, switch. Now they stood next to each other, and she held her arm out over his. They took three steps forward, and the music grew into a faster tempo.

“Easy enough?” Y/N asked, grabbing her phone to stop the music.

It was suspiciously simple, Bucky thought, but then again, the adults were just a small addition to the show. It’s really about the kids.

“We can make this more interesting.” He remarked.

“What do you mean?”

“Let’s try it again.” Bucky gestured to her phone.

She obliged and restarted the music.

They went through the routine again, all the way to the end at which the music began to speed up. As Y/N went to pause the music again, Bucky grabbed her arm and pulled her in. She gave a surprised gasp, but Bucky wasn’t regretful once he saw the smile on her face. He pulled himself back and began to spin her around and basked in her soft laughs. After pulling her back in again, and dancing around each other, he dipped her. She wrapped her right leg around him in response and he hoped she didn’t notice his smirk transform into a blush.

“Alright Mr. ‘I might be a little rusty’, someone has moves!”

Bucky helped her up once she removed her leg.

“I used to be better,” he mumbled.

“None of that,” she softly chided, bringing his chin up, “where did that confidence just go?”

Bucky shook his head. “I’ll keep practicing, then you’ll see,” he simpered.

Time went on and not a day went by that Bucky didn’t think of you. After weeks of practice, it was finally dress rehearsal. Bucky was surprisingly calm even though they were no longer practicing in a studio, but in the local high school’s theater, in full costume. You held his hand through it—literally, for some parts—and Bucky was grateful for it.

It was Friday night, the final rehearsal before the show the next day, and Bucky was just about to drive off when he realized how cold his hand felt against the steering wheel. He cursed himself and ran back inside, luckily finding his leather gloves sitting on a chair in the wings of the stage. Right as he was about to scamper off, he noticed a figure at the very front of center stage. He recognized her immediately, and without a second thought, he approached from the darkness of the sides and into the light of the stage. She had already changed out of her ballgown and was back in black leggings.

“Hey.” He uttered, slowly taking a seat next to her at the end of the stage. He let his legs dangle over the edge.

“Hey,” she gasped, bringing a hand to her heart. “Sorry, I thought everyone had left.”

“I forgot my gloves.”

“Seems like you have a habit of forgetting things,” she teased.

“Only when it comes to clothing, apparently.”

“Is AJ not waiting for you?”

“No, he left with a friend. He’s got a sleepover with Marshall tonight.”

“Gotcha.”

A thoughtful quiet settled over them, but Bucky couldn’t ignore the somberness in her eyes, gazing over the expanse of empty velvet seats.

“Can I ask you something? You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”

“Shoot.”

“Why’d you stop dancing?”

She was quiet for a minute. Bucky started to think she wasn’t going to answer, but eventually, she whispered,

“I didn’t have much of a choice.”

She began mindlessly rubbing her knee.

“I tore my ACL my senior year. It was our annual production of The Nutcracker and I was cast as the Sugar Plum Fairy. There was a rumor that some influential talent scouts were going to be attending. So when my knee started hurting I ignored it. I didn’t tell anyone. I worked my ass off and pushed myself harder when I really should have been resting, but I was stupid.” She gave Bucky a short glance. “Opening night came, and so did my solo. Everything was going fine until I heard a pop. Next thing I know my leg is on fucking fire and I’m hitting the ground.

“I embarrassed myself and our entire company. My knee took longer to heal than it should have because of more poor choices I made. What should have been nine months of healing turned into years. By the time it was safe enough to start dancing again, it was too late. I was too far behind my peers. Even still I sometimes have issues with it.”

Bucky simply nodded, taking in her words.

“I tell myself I’m over it because it was so long ago. But deep down I know I’m not. I’ve asked my parents to take down all of my stupid awards, at least store them away somewhere, because it’s just some sick reminder of what I lost. Actually, the whole reason I started volunteering in the first place is because my mom told me I should. Said it could be good for me. She never said so, but I really think she was hoping that by being surrounded by ballet again, I would feel motivated to begin training again. But it’s a pipe dream.”

She took a deep breath and looked up at the ceiling.

“All I ever was was a dancer. And a good one. It was the only thing I was good at, besides sewing, but I only learned that after I injured myself. The whole town knew me as the dancer. I guess the problem with having my entire identity wrapped around one thing is that when that thing goes away…well, who are you? Who am I, if not the girl who’s going to be on the stage one day? My entire identity was ripped from me.

“I’ve just been wading through life. Time keeps moving and crashing around me, but I haven’t changed. I still don’t know who I am, besides the girl who could’ve been great. And now I’m just—stuck.”

Her eyes went wide for a second before squeezing them shut as if she had forgotten she wasn’t alone.

“God, I’m so sorry, you didn’t need to know all of that—”

“No, I—” Bucky stopped her and hesitated to rest his hand on hers. “I can empathize. I hate that you had to go through that. That you’re still going through it. I can understand not knowing who you are anymore.

“A long time ago, I used to be someone else. I used to be charming, independent… happy. But after I was drafted my identity was no longer my own. I was a fighter. I belonged to the army. And then I belonged to Hydra. And even after, I belonged to the Avengers, the world, whoever needed me to fight, I was their soldier. But I’m tired.” At those words, Bucky slumped. “I don’t want to fight anymore. But I have no fucking clue who I am if not a soldier. I’ve been trying to figure that out.”

“I can’t tell you who you are,” she whispered after a moment, “but I can tell you that whoever you are, I like you.”

Bucky blushed.

“I like you too. It’s kind of embarrassing actually,”

“What is?”

“I didn’t really want to volunteer for this. Sam forced me. And while I love being here for AJ, I’d much rather hang out with him outside the theater where I’m not expected to be looked at on stage. But then I met this pretty costume designer…and suddenly it wasn’t so bad.”

“Pretty?” She asked, tilting her head.

“Beautiful. Absolutely gorgeous.” He specified.

“What a coincidence. I also met the most handsome and charming man recently.”

“Charming?”

“He doesn’t realize how charming he is. I guess that’s part of his charm.”

“He sounds great.” He turned to face her more directly. “Just to be clear, you are talking about me, yes?”

“Yes, you oaf.” She laughed.

Bucky pursed his lips.

“Would you be willing to let this oaf take you out on a date sometime?”

“More than willing.”

“That’s a relief,” he sighed, falling back onto the stage. “I figured it was 50/50.”

She gave him a silly grin and shook her head in amusement.

“You underestimate yourself, Bucky Barnes.”

The final performance was perfect. Well, as perfect as it could be with a production of the Nutcracker with dancers ages ranging from 6 to 106. Most importantly, AJ had fun and did a fantastic job. After the show and final bows, Sarah, Sam, and Cass came rushing onto the stage to congratulate AJ (and Bucky of course. Sam made sure to tell him that he was very proud of how brave he was, and Bucky rolled his eyes. He secretly appreciated it, though.) Cass handed one bouquet to his little brother and the other to his uncle, who funny enough lit up in a similar way as his nephew at the gift. But Y/N lit up the most when Sarah handed a third bouquet to her.

“For keeping Bucky in line, and giving a beautiful performance,” Sarah clarified.

“You’re so sweet,” she beamed, pulling Sarah in for a quick hug. “I have the perfect vase for this.”

“Can we go get ice cream now?” AJ jumped.

“Let’s get you out of your costume first,” Sam said and gave a quick wink to Bucky before herding his sister and Nephews backstage. “We’ll see you by the car Buck.”

Bucky nodded and turned his full attention to Y/N. He felt weirdly high after the performance. “Wanna join us for ice cream?” He asked, placing his hands on her waist.

“Gladly.” She smiled and wrapped her arms around his neck.

I like dancing with you.

A/N: If you've made it this far, tysm for reading!!! I really hope this doesn't suck complete ass, idk what happened 😰 Im going to go hide in a hole now and question everything

If you'd like to read more, here's my Masterlist

Happy holidays!

#bucky fic #bucky barnes fic #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky fanfiction #bucky x reader #bucky x f!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #tfatws!Bucky #dancer!reader #costumer!reader #bucky fluff #bucky angst #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff

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wintersoldiersoul · 7 months

Text

Twisted

Synopsis: You're a dancer and you get injured

Word count: 1,270

You watched yourself in the mirror in front of you, stretching your arm higher to make the perfect line. Carefully, you went up onto pointe, the pain immediately shooting through your ankle. You were no stranger to dancing with an injury. Being a professional ballerina, there was rarely a time that you weren’t injured. But it was different recovering from a broken ankle than a sprain. You had been out of commission for months. Technically, you shouldn’t even be attempting to go back on pointe yet but it was October and that meant Nutcracker season.

Months of daily rehearsals and performances. You were determined to get at least a soloist role this year. It was your third year in the company and you were tired of being stuck in the corps-de-ballet. No. Not anymore. This year would be your year. Even with an injury.

You pushed through the pain, drilling in the solo that you would be performing for your audition the next day. When you finally took a break and checked your phone, you realized it had been 2 hours. You had 5 missed texts and two missed calls from Bucky. He knew exactly where you were. And he knew it was a place you shouldn’t be without being fully recovered.

Bucky: Baby you’re gonna make it worse.

Bucky: Come on, doll I don’t want to see you get hurt again.

Bucky: Please my love, just come home.

Bucky: I know you can do whatever you want, but you know this isn’t smart.

Bucky: I’m coming to get you. You’ve been there for too long already.

The last text had been sent 20 minutes ago. You knew Bucky would arrive at the studio any minute.

You didn’t let that stop you, though, as you clicked play on the music and ran through the solo two more times. You were about to start a third time when you heard the studio door open. Bucky walked towards you.

“Buck, you can’t have shoes in the studio!” You exclaimed.

“And you can’t be dancing on a broken ankle.” He fired back. You pushed some stray hairs out of your face and behind your ears. You looked like a mess after dancing for so long.

“I’m fine, okay? I feel fine.” You gritted your teeth and cursed as you took a step towards him.

“Yeah, babe. You seem really fine.” He wasn’t mad at you, just worried. He knew that you were smart and capable of making your own decisions but he had also been dating you long enough to know that ballet dancers don’t listen to logic. Or doctors. Especially during the most important time of the season.

You looked into his eyes. They were pleading with you to stop, to just let him take you home. But you still hadn’t fully nailed the Fouette turns at the end of the variation. You just needed a little bit more time.

“One more run through. And then you can take me home, okay?”

Bucky wanted to fight you on it, but he knew there was no point. “Okay. One more time. That’s it. After that, I’m throwing you over my shoulder to take you out of here if I have to.”

“You can sit in here but just don’t distract me, okay?”

He walked over to the corner and sat down. Bucky loved watching you dance. You were so light on your feet, making each step look so easy. He loved how happy and free you looked. But right now, he was terrified that something was going to go wrong. As much as he loved watching you dance, he hated seeing you injured which was pretty much always.

You clicked play on the music and began the variation. The pain in your ankle was excruciating, causing each subtle movement to send a shooting pain that reverberated through your entire leg.

You made it through about half of the turns at the end when everything came crumbling down. Your bad ankle, the one you were turning on, gave out and rolled over itself. You let out a scream of agony as you fell to the ground, causing Bucky to run over to you.

“Oh my god, Y/N.”

You couldn’t say anything in response. The pain was so bad that you just screamed and cried as he scooped you up in his arms.

“It’s gonna be okay, baby. Let’s get you home and get that ankle elevated with some ice, okay?”

You nodded. “Sh-shoes. N-need to get out of the pointe shoes.” The tight boxes surrounding your feet weren’t helping the pain.

“Okay baby, I’ll help you take them off.” He untied the one on your good ankle and reached for the other one. Even the slightest touch caused you to cry in agony. “I know baby, I’m sorry. But you’re right, you do need to get out of these shoes.” Without the constriction of the ribbons and elastic, you could see how truly swollen your ankle was. Bucky didn’t even bother trying to get you into your sneakers, knowing he was going to carry you to the car anyway.

You cried the whole way home, half from the pain, and half from knowing that you would be completely out of dancing for months.

Bucky carried you into the house and carefully set you on the couch. He carefully helped you change out of your dancewear, audibly gasping when he took off your tights, revealing the true state of your ankle. It was twice the size of the other one, littered with black, blue, and purple.

“Oh babe…” Bucky sighed. He too knew that you’d be out for a while. That you’d have to go months without doing the thing that made you the happiest.

He carried you back to the couch, settling your foot onto a pillow to keep it elevated. He got an ice pack from the freezer and set it around your ankle, trying to be as gentle as possible. Once it was settled, he snuck his body behind yours, letting your back fall against his chest. Your crying had subsided a bit, but you still were sniffling as smaller waves of tears rolled down your cheeks.

“You were right. I should have just listened to you. Oh god, I’m so stupid!”

Bucky stroked your hair lovingly. “Hey, stop it. You’re not stupid. You’re determined. You’re passionate. You’re so incredibly strong and resilient. That’s why you were in that studio, okay? Because you have such an amazing work ethic and drive. Not because you’re stupid.”

You sniffled again. “I’m gonna be out for a while.”

“I know baby, I know,” he said, sadly. He felt just as awful about it as you did. “But it’s gonna be okay. You are so talented. You’re such a beautiful dancer and you have a natural gift. Take the time to let this heal now so that you can be even stronger next year.”

You let your body fully relax against him and he wrapped his arms around you, holding you close.

“Get some rest, my love. It’s gonna be okay. I’m gonna make sure you get through this. And I’ll help you with physical therapy. And I’ll wait on you hand and foot, alright? Don’t worry about a thing.”

“I love you so much, Bucky.” You whispered, as you began to lose the fight against the exhaustion that was overtaking your body.

“I love you, too, Y/N. Just rest right now. It’s all gonna be okay.”

You felt him kiss your head softly before you let the sea of sleep overtake you.

#sebastian stan #bucky barnes #ballet #ballet imagine #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes imagine #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #marvel imagine #dance imagine #bucky x y/n #bucky x reader

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botnasty · 1 year

Text

Part three: Fuck Your Theory

Roommate!Bucky Barnes X F!Reader

Summary: Bucky and his interesting theories are back once again…

Words: 2K words

Warnings: FLUFF, suggestive comment, Bucky with tattoos and fake nipple piercing, angst at the end.

Note: All mistakes are mine and please tell me if I’m missing any warnings. And also don’t be shy, if anyone wants to see more of the two just send me an ask :)

Not proofread

Series Masterlist

“Bucky!” You yelled his name as you did a 360 in your room, your eyes trying to locate the most important part of your costume this year, an angel. Usually during Halloween your mantra was: ‘Go big or go home’, but with all the exams lately you haven’t had the time to work on it, so you decided to do something really simple.

You grabbed your white feather hearing and went out of the bathroom adjacent to your bedroom. “Have you seen…”There was the man of the minute, laying down on your bed. He was wearing leather pants that hugged his beefy thighs perfectly, his hair on a man bun with some strands framing his face, all his tattoos on display on his chest and his arms and…

Your eyes bulged out when you saw what was on his nipples. “What in the world?” Bucky smirked his finger brunching against the metal around his pink nipple.

“Unfortunately they are fake, Toots.” He said when he saw exactly where your eyes had stopped. You almost wanted to whine. Images in your head of you on his lap, biting on his nipple and tugging on the piercing making him moan for you and sensible.

“But I think you were looking for this weren’t you?” He pointed to his other hand that was holding the hollow that was supposed to get on your head. “Come here, little angel. Come get your crown.” He almost growled as he got on his knee on your bed.

You slowly got to him, swallowing and your eyes never leaving his blue one, your feet paddling against the rug in your bedroom that you bought with him under the pretext of ‘my feet are always cold. I need it to live.” Once you were in front of him, you looked up to him because even if he was on his knee on your bed, he was still very much taller than you.. and so much bigger.

You yelped when Bucky put his tattooed arm around your waist and pulled you flush against his bare torso. “What a good girl.�� His mouth descended on yours. His lips not just kissing you but devouring you whole. You felt like his when he kissed you like that,but confusion was still raging between the two of you.

While teh kiss and the sex you both had made you feel like there was more, outside of it he still treated you like his best friend and nothing more. He never asked you to be his girlfriend, so you didn’t know what to think was happening. Have you become friends with benefits?

“There you go, such a pretty angel.” Lost in thoughts, you hadn't noticed Bucky place the hollow on your head. “My pretty angel.” He framed your face with his hand and pulled you close, lips brushing. “You're my little angel, aren’t you toots?”

Even with the confusion in your head, you smiled and wrapped your hand around his neck. Your hands immediately went to the hair on the nape of his neck “Only if you’re mine, demon.” Why not have fun instead of worrying about the end now.

The party was going full swing. People were already overflowing the house. You were surprised the cops hadn’t been called yet. Bucky leaned over you as you both went through the front door, you couldn’t help but take a whiff of him. He smelled too good to be true. He leaned into your ear and grabbed your cheeks. “I’m going to look for Steve and Sam.” You nodded. ‘I think I saw Nat’s red hair in the kitchen.”

“Nat is here!” You almost screamed of joy. Natasha was your other best friend that unfortunately had to go overseas for her work as a ballet dancer. You had stayed in contact, but hadn’t seen her in a year now. “I have to go see her!” Bucky smiled at your evident excitement.

Bucky grabbed you by the waist and pulled you close. “Go see her, toots.” He pecked your lips. “But tonight, you are mine.” He whispered in your ears. A gasp couldn’t help but leave your mouth and cream messing your panties. The man was too hot to handle.

You bit your lips. “Understood, toots?” he said with a fake severity, his tattooed fingers making you look into his blue eyes.

“Yes…” And you leaned in on the tip of your toes and kissed him.Your arms went around his neck and you grabbed a fist-full of his hair. You pulled him closer to you as you slide your tongue in his mouth and he let you, his arm around your waist grabbing onto your skin. You loved this. You loved the power-balance you both had. You both were scared to show your vulnerability to each other.

“I’m going to join you guys soon, okay baby?”

“Don’t be too long.” He whispered into your mouth and you both finally let go of each other.

You zeroed to the kitchen after Bucky left into the crowd, your eyes never leaving his ass in those leather pants. You couldn’t wait to see Nat face-to-face after so many times. As you squeeze between two people, you couldn’t help but squick as you noticed her in her Poison Ivy costume. She was talking to this other girl and hadn’t noticed you yet. You took that as an opportunity.

“BOO.” You screamed behind her and she turned around and was about to smack your face, but stopped midway. The other girl just laughed and went away. “Y/N?”

“Nat!” You both laughed as you went into each other's arms. “Wait.” You pulled her away. “Were you about to punch me?”

“You fucking scared me. What did you think was going to happen?”

You nodded. “That’s true, that’s true.”

She grabbed your face. “Now come here.” She kissed your cheeks. “I missed you so much. I have so much to tell you. Oh, all the juicy stuff I just learned and you didn’t tell me any of it!” Your face went down. Did people find out about you and Bucky? If so, how?

“Why haven’t you told me that Sam Wilson was finally single again! I would’ve flown back home sooner!” She sipped on her red cup, the same one you see in every teen movie ever, her green nails glowing in the deemed light. You puffed out a laugh and faked being hurt. “Ouch. That deeply hurt my feelings.” You turned around and pretended to leave, but with a big smile on your face. Nat grabbed you by the arm and pulled you in a hug.

“You know I can never get enough of you. ANd you are my favorite person in the world!” She kissed your nose. “I would’ve come back for you anyday, my sunny.”

“I missed you, Nat. Shit aren’t the same without you.”

“I know. I’m irreplaceable.” She took a step back and grabbed her red cup once again. “Time for me to throw that out.” She opened the trash can.

You nodded. “Can never be too careful.”

“Fucking frat boy… But anyway.” She linked your arms together. “Where is your boy toy?” You almost choked on your saliva. “Boy toy?”

“Bucky? James Barnes? Hot nerd? You know the dude you’ve been living with for the past four years?”

You slapped her shoulder. “I know who you're talking about. I just wasn’t expecting that name. He’s talking with Sam and Steve.”

“Then let’s go join him, shall we?” She didn’t wait for your response and immediately dragged you in the sea of disguised people.

“Sammy!” Natasha screeched as she wrapped her arms around the man. You,in your case, immediately went beside Bucky. You almost melted when you felt his hand slide on the low of your back, his fingers caressing your soft skin. You looked up to him and giggled when you saw his bloodshot eyes. “You’re high, Buck.”

He smiled. “And you are pretty. Are we playing a game of stating the evidence?” He leaned down and kissed your cheeks. “Wanna play with me and Sam at beer pong?” You nodded.

“I’m with Nat!” You screamed before anyone could decide their team. You walked to her and held her hand.

“That’s not fair.” Exclaimed Bucky, teaming up with Sam. “She's the fuckign pro at that game.”

You shrugged. “You’ll have faster.”You grabbed one of the small white balls and threw it in the air.

“We the dream team baby.” She kissed your cheeks and filled the red cups with beer. You leaned into her and when you turned to look at Bucky, you saw his jaw twitching. He was jealous. You couldn’t help but feel good at that. He really did care about your relationship.

“Now!” Sam took one of the balls. “Let’s get this game started shall we.”

Cheering could be heard from all the people around the table.

Five games of beer pong had passed and everyone was drunk. You were probably the only one who wasn’t wasted because you were the designed driver. Seeing everyone being drunk was pretty funny. Sam was always flexing his muscles to Natasha who was swooning, Bucky was just being extremely touchy with you, but that wasn’t anything new.

He had his head on your shoulder, having you pressed against his hard body. “Hmm.. I’m gonn go to the bathroom.” He whispered and walked away after kissing your cheeks.

“Do you want me to go with you?” You asked him, scared he was going to pass out at any moment.

He shook his head and leaned down to pinch you cheeks. “Imma be ‘right , toots.” and he went.

“Where boy toy go?” Nat asked as she grabbed you by the neck and started swinging to the music with you. You were still looking at the direction Bucky went. “He went to the bathroom.”

“He big boy.” She grabbed your chin and made you look at her. “Dance with me.”

The songs playing were a mash up of all the 2000's and 2010’s songs so you couldn’t help but move your body with the redhead next to you and scream the lyrics of the song.

“That’s it. Let it go, girl.” Nat laughed as she made you twirl on the dance floor.

After a long moment, you looked around and you couldn’t find Bucky anywhere near you. He did say he was going to the bathroom, but that had been 15 minutes ago. “I’m gonna look for Bucky.” You screamed at Natasha over the loud music. She gave you the thumbs up and went back to the game of beer pong, this time in team with Sam.

“Sorry.” Is what you kept saying to people as you squeezed by them and your angel wings slapped them a little. You really shouldn’t have worn them to such a big party, but that’s not what was important right now. Your eyes kept on moving around, looking at every place and costume to see if you could spot him, but to no avail.

Just as you turn around a corner, you hear his famous saying. “You know.. I heard a theory…” Your heart started beating fast and you froze. Right in front of you was Bucky saying the same thing he once said to you to a random girl wearing white and red, you couldn’t bother trying to find what she was dressed as. Your focus were on Bucky’s word.

The motherfucker. You’ve never felt more used and hurt in your life. By your own best friend turned lover. Your hand bawled into a fist, You wanted to punch someone. Bucky or the girl, you didn’t know. Rage filled you, but instead of doing anything you just left. Left the place and Bucky. Fuck him and fuck his theory.

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babyhatesreality · 1 year

Text

The Sinner and the Saint Ch 1

Pairing: Mafia!Boss Bucky x f! reader

A/N- Deep breath. Promised myself I would jump and publish this today, so here we go. This is a completely different story than any of the others I’ve written. Please read all warnings before proceeding- this is not the universe you’re used to me writing in if you’re familiar with my other stories. THIS IS NSFW, REPEAT, THIS IS NSFW. DO NOT PROCEED IF YOU ARE UNCOMFORTABLE WITH ANY OF THE WARNINGS FOR THE CHAPTER OR THE STORY. It’s my first time publishing anything in this world, let’s see what happens. There is a lot of world-building in this chapter, just hang with me, okay? And for the record- I fully support anyone who chooses to use their body in whatever industry they choose. You do you, babe, and I love you for it.

Warnings for this chapter: f! reader, reader is an exotic dancer, some slight angst, swearing, fake names.

Story Warnings: Mafia Boss Bucky and all that comes with that, and a lot of smut, slow burn relationship. Reader has a pet name that she will primarily be referred to as through the story, but there will be a moment of Y/N.

YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR OWN MEDIA CONSUMPTION. I DO NOT GIVE MY PERMISSION TO HAVE MY WORK COPIED, PRINTED OR TRANSLATED ONTO ANY OTHER PLATFORM. MINORS DNI- 18+ONLY. Likes, comments, and reblogs deeply appreciated from age appropriate readers.

Chapter 1

Flash ‘em that sweet, seductive smile....and done. Music fades- thank god.

The crowd went nuts. You turned like you were going to exit, stopping to slip your thumb along the side seam of the tiny black lace thong you were wearing- just about all you were left wearing at this point- and a downpour of dollar bills fluttered onto the stage as the roaring of the crowd grew. It technically wasn’t against the rules to make them THINK you were going to take the thong off- just as long as you didn’t actually do it- and it always got you more tips. C’est la vie. You fluttered your fingers over your shoulder as Rhodey announced your stage name again over the mic, and you made your exit to uproarious applause.

You managed to suppress your eye roll until you were back behind the shimmery silver mylar curtain. Sprite the stage hand darted out to gather your clothes and tips as the lights dimmed over the runway you had just vacated. You snatched the robe you had left on the hook back there and quickly covered up. It had been just your luck to draw the short straw tonight and have to perform to “Cherry Pie” by Warrant. You used to like that song, but ever since you had to take this job, you’d come to hate it. All the women who worked here hated the song. They heard it every freaking shift. But there was something about it that just made their clients go feral. So every night, someone had to dance to it, and tonight had been your unlucky night.

You stretched your neck from side to side, trying to keep the frustration inwards and off your face. You’d been told many times by the other girls that you wore your heart on your sleeve. You’d always been a highly emotional person, acting on your feelings first. So you worked doubly hard to keep up the smile while you were onstage. The girls who smiled and played nice always made more money. And god knows you needed that money.

You had moved to New York City with the same big dreams every kid in the midwest had. You were going to be a professional dancer. Maybe in the ballet, maybe a Rockette, maybe on Broadway. You didn’t care where- you just wanted to dance. You’d thrown your life into training since the age of four, taking any and every class you possibly could. You’d placed top of your rank in competitions, gotten leads in your school recitals and musicals, even gotten a scholarship- nothing could stop you. Except the harsh realities of trying to be a working performer in New York.

That’s how you ended up at Voulez Vous two weeks ago. They were advertising for specialty “dancers” and you had been desperate, not having had a gig in at least a month with rent being very much due. Voulez Vous was the most upscale strip club in New York City. Much to your surprise, you’d loved it instantly. This place was fantastic. Clean, professional, positive work environment. A lot nicer than some of the other dancing gigs you’d gotten. Taking off your clothes wasn’t that big of a deal to you, especially after some of your...past extracurricular activities. And you still got to dance here- after a fashion.

They treated each other wonderfully. Most of the other girls were friendly and sweet. Natasha Romanoff was the best boss you’d ever had; kind, loyal, but firm and no nonsense when she needed to be. The pay was incredible, not to mention the tips. It was the only way you were surviving in New York while still trying to go on as many auditions as possible. The late nights of your job made it a challenge, but you were determined. So you put on a carefully crafted and seductive smile every night, pretended you were onstage at Radio City Music Hall, and danced your heart out while dropping your clothes on the stage. So your dreams had to change a little; you could do this.

But it didn’t change the fact that dancing to ‘Cherry Pie’ still SUCKED.

Just as you angrily tied the sash of your robe, Gamora came up to you, a sympathetic smile on her face. She held out a bottle of water to you. “Thanks,” you said, trying to force the fake smile back on your face. Gamora and you had become close over the past two weeks- she was sarcastic and sweet, with a fierceness that you could only envy.

She huffed a kind laugh at your attempt to hide your feelings about getting saddled with ‘Cherry Pie’. “Sorry that you ended up stuck with that song tonight, but girl, you KILLED it,” she said, taking off her own robe and hanging it on the hook yours had just recently occupied. “You have got to teach me that leg thing you do. They are losing their damn minds every time you pull that out.”

“Yeah, I guess it’s becoming my signature move,” you said, a little proudly, trying to keep up the smile. “I wasn’t sure where to throw it in- did it work on that high note part?”

“God, that was perfect timing. You nailed it, baby. And now, just think! You’re out of the drawing pool on that song for at least a week!”

That cheered you up instantly, causing you to actually smile. She grinned back. “Atta girl,” she said, gently slugging you on the shoulder. “Listen, rumor has it there’s a new round of dancer auditions over at Zemo Studios in a couple days. You should totally go.” Before you could say anything, Rhodey announced Gamora’s number. “Thank me later,” she hissed with a grin before bursting her way through the silver mylar curtain to loud cheers.

You shook your head, but couldn’t help smiling. Gamora was always looking out for you, even on those days where you weren’t so great at looking after yourself. Sprite came hustling offstage, narrowly avoiding Gamora and handing you a wad of crumpled bills. “Here you go, Miss Angel,” she said with her typical mischievous grin. She looked like she was about twelve and straight out of Neverland, but Natasha had assured you she was overage and just incredibly genetically lucky. You smiled, peeled off a ten, and handed it to her. Sprite’s grin grew- you always tipped her well.

“Thank you Sprite,” you said quietly, then made your way back to the dressing rooms. You were so focused on turning the bills the correct way and putting them in monetary order that you nearly ran right into your boss.

“Whoa,” Natasha said, grabbing you by the shoulders so you didn’t collide. You looked up quickly, nervous. “Where’s the fire, babe?”

“Oh shit, sorry Ms. Romanoff,” you gasped, both from the surprise and the immediate guilt welling up in you. You should have been watching where you were going, idiot, you hissed at yourself. You nearly plowed your boss over, moron. What if she thought you were intentionally being rude or disrespectful or-

“You’re okay, sweetheart,” Natasha laughed, trying to calm the panic on your face. She knew that you were still nervous after only being here two weeks. She rubbed your arms kindly. “And please- call me Natasha, okay? I promise it’s alright.”

“Right. Sorry. Again.”

“No problem. C’mere, I have something I need to tell you,” she said, gesturing over her shoulder to the dressing rooms. You tried not to be nervous- the boss wanting to talk to you mid shift never seemed like a good thing, but Natasha was cool as a cucumber, so it couldn’t be anything that bad, right? You followed the petite red head into the small dressing area. As soon as the door was closed, she immediately turned to face you.

“Okay, I know you’re still new here, and I don’t want to freak you out, but...you’ve got a booking in the VIP Champagne Room. Right now.”

Your heart stopped. Oh god. The Champagne Room. You knew the club had a whole section of them but you had never been booked in one yet. Your nerves went into overdrive and turned your veins to ice.

Natasha took the wad of money out of your hand and sat you down in front of the dressing room mirror. She began delicately fixing your hair and your makeup from all the hair tossing and sweating you’d done during your number.

“Trust me, honey, there’s nothing to be afraid of. It’s not nearly as bad as what you’re thinking, okay? I know the guy, you’re going to be safe with him. Just...try to make a good impression, alright? He’s a frequent flyer around here. He does this with all the new girls. He likes to introduce himself, and talk to you a bit. He just wants to get to know you and make sure you’re doing okay. That’s it.”

“Uh huh,” you said faintly, staring at yourself in the mirror, trying to will the nerves away as she pulled you out of your seat, and draped a sheer lace wrap dress around your body. “Just...get to know me?” you asked quietly, hoping she’d understand what you were trying to imply. She stopped and faced you with a gentle smile, knowing you needed reassurance right now.

“The rules for the Champagne Room are always in place, no matter who it is,” Natasha said firmly, taking your ice cold hands in her warm ones. You vaguely noticed that her hands were a bit calloused- surprising on such a quiet, gentle person- but your brain was much more occupied with what she was saying. “They keep all their junk in their pants at all times. They are not allowed to touch without your consent. You can take anything- ANYTHING- you want to off, but only if YOU want to. They can’t force you to do anything you don’t want to do. If you want to do more while you’re in there, that’s your choice, and yours alone. But you are not required to. Consent is still alive and well in my clubs, and always will be, thank you very much,” she added with a little grumble at the end before letting you go and draping a fake diamond necklace around your neck.

You knew it was true. At least 3 people got tossed out every night for touching or trying to touch the performers. No one touched Natasha’s girls without their say-so. “And,” she added, as she touched up your lip gloss. “Fury will be right outside the door. If you need him, you just say the code word and he’s in the room with you immediately. But you won’t need him. Like I said, I know this guy. He wants to talk and that’s it. I swear. So just be your good girl self, and you’ll walk out of that room in one hour with more money than God.”

Before you were even close to ready, you found yourself outside the pale pink door marked ‘VIP’, Natasha whispering encouraging things in your ear that you barely heard. This was the most luxurious of the rooms in the place, so whoever it was definitely did have money, like Natasha said. You tried to remember that this was apparently a ‘thing’ for whoever this was, and tried to banish the self-hating thoughts about why anyone would pay so much money just to spend time with you. The fake diamond crusted Fuck-Me Heels you were wearing gave you confidence; fake confidence, but hell, you’d take anything you could get right now. You took a deep breath, reached out, and turned the gold door knob. You entered the room.

And your heart began to beat in a way it never had before.

Sitting on the expensive blue velvet chaise lounge, nursing a tumbler of bourbon, was the most gorgeous man you’d ever seen in your life. The deep, ocean blue eyes caught yours immediately. Neither one of you moved as you locked gazes. His dark brown hair was cut short, nearly buzzed on the sides, with just enough on top for you someone to run your their fingers through. There was no hint of stubble on his jaw (that could clearly cut glass- it was that defined), like he’d just shaved. He was wearing an off-white suit with a black shirt, patterned with gold. His left ankle was propped up on his right knee, patiently waiting. His black leather-gloved fingers were gracefully curled around his glass, and his eyes stayed locked on yours as he slowly brought it to his sculpted and expressive mouth. After a long sip, he set the glass down on a crystal coaster sitting on the table next to him. And he gave you a seductive smile.

“Good evening, Miss Angel,” he said. The timbre of his voice made you want to both melt and snap to attention, all at the same time. There was something so...intriguing about his tone. Dominant. The notes of his voice that said this wasn’t someone you wanted to mess with, but...something more too. Something deeper. Something that made you want to melt to your knees and bow at his feet, but prove yourself too. It was the strangest dichotomy. And you couldn’t figure it out right now- you were too busy gaping at him. “And how are you tonight?”

Suddenly remembering that you were at work and here to do a job, you recovered your own seductive smile immediately, although it was nowhere as near panty-dropping as his was. “I’m wonderful, thank you,” you purred demurely, causing the corner of his mouth to pull up. Good. He wasn’t entirely immune to your charms either. “And how are you, Mr....?”

The gorgeous man brought a gloved finger up to his lips for a moment, rubbing them as if he was thinking. He looked over at his tumbler of bourbon. “Nick,” he finally said.

“Just Nick?” you asked shyly, determined to stay on the right foot with this guy, no matter how mind-numbingly hot he was. He grinned as he stood up, and looked back at you.

“Ol’ Nick, if you want the full name.”

“Ol’ Nick?” you repeated in disbelief. There was no way this man was what anyone could consider “old”.

“Yup. Ol’ Nick. Like the devil. Figured since you were “Angel”, I’d give you a name that matched yours. A...worthy adversary, if you will,” he said, one eyebrow bobbing up in a challenging way.

A challenge. Hm. That sparked something in you.

“How kind of you,” you said, letting your eyes twinkle at his mischievously. “I love a worthy adversary.” The corners of his gorgeous lips pulled up even more, seeing that you were playing along. “So what can I do for you, Nick?”

To Be Continued....

Chapter 2

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #mafia!bucky #mafia bucky #mafia bucky barnes #mafia!bucky x reader #mob bucky barnes #mob bucky x reader #mob bucky barnes x reader #mob bucky #mob!boss bucky #mob boss bucky #mob boss bucky barnes #mob!boss bucky x reader

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911nmg · 7 months

Text

Bring me out of the dark

Winterwidow/ Buckynat - normal life AU

Dual POV

Art by the incredible @burninblood

Summary:

As an aspiring ballet dancer Natasha Romanov didn't get to have many friends growing up, now, aged twenty-two, her flatmate Maria wants to solve it by introducing her to "the family", also known as the dorks of her friends, however childhood scars are still tearing her apart.

Bucky Barnes is not doing so well since coming back from Afghanistan, now disabled and with severe PTSD he doesn't even bother to hang out with Steve or Maria anymore, until he does.

When both meet they start a cat and mouse game that slowly tores away at their walls, but, can two damaged people bring each other out of the dark or are they destined to spiral into darkness?

Chapters:

Starring role - Natasha's POV

Can't sleep! Can't breathe! - Bucky's POV

Control - Natasha's POV

R.I.P. to my youth - Bucky's POV

Game of survival - Natasha’s POV

Unsteady - Bucky’s POV

Shadows - Natasha’s POV

Run boy run - Bucky’s POV

Demons (part I) - Natasha's POV

Demons (part II) - Natasha's POV

Battle scars - Bucky’s POV

Human - Natasha’s POV

Safe and sound - Bucky’s POV

Everything is lost - Natasha’s POV

Where do we go from here? - Bucky’s POV

My heart's grave - Bucky’s POV

I didn't ask for this - Natasha’s POV

Can't help falling in love with you - Bucky’s POV

Haunting - Natasha’s POV

Meet me on the battlefield (part I) - Bucky’s POV

Meet me on the battlefield (part II) - Bucky’s POV

Nightmare - Natasha's POV

Silence looks good on you - Natasha's POV

If I didn’t know better - Bucky's POV

Sanctuary - Natasha's POV

As the world caves in - Bucky's POV

What was I made for? - Natasha's POV

Read on AO3:

#winterwidow #buckynat #normal life au #bring me out of the dark #tw: dark content #hurt/comfort #angst #fanfiction

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sparkagrace · 1 year

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Avengers... Assemblé

Avengers... Assemblé | @sparkagrace

fills: @stuckybingo B3: team cap | @allcapsbingo B5: au: ballet tags: moodboard, steve x bucky, team cap, ballet au, brief mentions of racism and abusive practices word count: 460 words credit: @cable-knit-sweater for the title! ily bb 💘

Welcome to Team Cap Ballet Studio, a contemporary ballet school in the heart of Brooklyn run by married couple, Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes. They're joined by Natasha Romanoff, Sam Wilson, Wanda Maximoff, Clint Barton and Scott Lang.

Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes

Once primos in their own respective ballet companies, the two dancers fell in love but grew frustrated by the lack of inclusion and diversity in the industry. They tried in vain to push for performances where they could have Swan Lake with two male leads or Giselle with two female leads instead of the traditional stories. As they neared retirement, and now married, the two began serious discussions about creating their own studio where they could push the boundaries of their art and find a space for other like-minded dancers to join.

Natasha Romanoff

Natasha was the rose of the Red Room, but they were notorious for creating an unhealthy environment for their dancers, most of whom were extremely young and vulnerable. Unable to keep dancing for a company who did not respect their dancers, Natasha blew the whistle and was blacklisted by the stalwarts of the industry almost immediately. Thankfully, Bucky got in touch with her and offered her a teaching position at Team Cap. Not only is Natasha a creative director, but she also ensures that the dancers have a safe and open environment.

Sam Wilson

Sam Wilson is one of the best dancers of his generation. His elegance and technique is impeccable, as well as being one of the nicest and most personable athletes in the business. Unfortunately, the industry is too traditional and conservative to give him the leading roles that he deserves. Time and time again he's been passed over for lesser dancers, and it's not hard to understand why. Jaded and disillusioned by his treatment, he almost hangs up his ballet shoes only for Steve to reach out and ask him to be Team Cap's primo.

Wanda Maximoff

A young prodigy, Wanda’s grace on the stage is unrivaled. Trained in the Red Room, she was made to dance over and over again until she was perfect. Thankfully, Natasha took her under her wing and brought her over to Team Cap, where she’s thriving in an environment that looks after her. As a result, she’s been positioned as one of the best prima ballerinas and wanted by every company. However, her loyalties lie with the studio that saved her.

Clint Barton and Scott Lang

Clint and Scott found out the hard way that the industry looks down on those who don't conform to their standards. Despite being great dancers - agile and strong - they haven't been given the chance they deserve because of criminal records from youthful indiscretions. It didn't matter how much they had worked to put their pasts behind them, they felt shunned by the business all the same. That was until Steve and Bucky brought them into the fold. Now they teach ballet and dance to kids in similar positions to help give them tools and show them that there's always a way out and proof that their past doesn't dictate their futures.

#allcapsbingo2023 #stucky bingo #team cap #steve rogers #bucky barnes #steve x bucky #stucky au #natasha romanoff #sam wilson #wanda maximoff #clint barton #scott lang #ficlet #moodboard #my fic #bingo fills

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heywriters · 1 month

Note

For the fic commentary ask (idk if this is 500 words):

Standing in the darkened wings, suited in tulle and satin, our faces painted, we await our cue. We stand in an elongated row, the lead girl up front, nearest the stage, the last girl with her heels in the hall. I am four dancers back, head held high in a fixed pose as we are taught to hold; no relaxing just because we are not on display. I can see the lights beyond the lead girl’s head, but I cannot see the stage.

Above the music and the paces of performers already onstage, I hear a single footstep. My sister ahead of me does not hear it, my sister behind me does not hold her breath. I’m the only one who knows there is someone unexpected in the shadows with us.

The mildest glint of a metal knuckle and I stare straight ahead, my throat tight and my heart racing like a snared rabbit’s.

Seconds pass. The music swallows itself mournfully. The shadows squeeze tighter around me until—

I can feel his breath, but I do not look at him. When he moves I know better than to move, better than to distract him, knowing it’s like stepping out of the road when a vehicle hurtles by, it’s destination immensely more important than your own. So when the movement grazes my cheek I remain statuesque, but out of the corner of my eye I look.

His right hand made of flesh and blood touches my cheek, fingers gingerly tracing my cheekbone. They trace a curve down the side of my face and under my jaw, and too late I tremble. His hand still touching me, I turn my head incrementally to look into his eyes for an explanation, thinking this is a test, but really not thinking at all.

The eyes gazing back at me show no fury. They are not cold. They are not blank.

The Soldier is admiring me, and not with dilated pupils or calculating lust, but like he’s found a piece of art he enjoys, eyes following the trail of his fingers. I hold every muscle still just as I’ve been doing, watching his eyes as he drags his knuckles back up my cheek.

He hesitates. He sees me looking, and the admiration is drowned. His eyes portray a dilemma, a lost man, a little boy. He drops his hand and I look straight ahead, about to break a bone or strain a muscle from how tightly I hold myself in place. I hear him slip into the wings and I do not look back, but I listen, focusing all my attention on listening through the one ear aimed in his direction.

Our cue sounds, and we advance onto the stage, curtain rising, audience sighing. Throwing my attention into the dance, I forget the Soldier completely. Mind and body stay in the dance, senses stay on the audience, cues taken from fellow dancers, but the side of my face burns throughout the performance.

Author's Commentary

Wow. Not the fic I expected someone to pick, and also I forgot I wrote this, especially upon re-reading it (it's good?).

This scene came to me and was written down in roughly the same day. That's why the rest of the fic is so short, sadly. Spur of the moment, and it remains unfinished.

I picked 1st POV for Natalia because I had put myself in her shoes and couldn't imagine it from another viewpoint. Unfortunately, 1st POV is not popular for fanfic or fanon characters—I too dislike fics told from 1st POV. I really wanted to try it though and am not dissatisfied; it is what it is. Have frequently considered altering it to 3rd POV to make it more palatable to readers. Attempted to justify it by making these modern-day Natasha's recollections.

Key points to note:

Meant to exist in MCUniverse, not comics

This fic was inspired by another fic by...crap, I can't find it. I kept the vibes because they were good

I know almost nothing about ballet so I leaned on the canon understanding that the ballet aspect of her backstory was implanted memories and therefore could be fudged

I'm more of a Bucky fan than a Natasha fan, but both of them have such trauma, such stoicism, and above all repression to explore

Commentary by Excerpts

"Seconds pass. The music swallows itself mournfully. The shadows squeeze tighter around me until—" <- I really like this bit, wow. I don't remember what I was listening to when I wrote this, but I might have been describing it.

"I can feel his breath" Don't know why I wrote that, i didn't intend for him to be that close.

"When he moves I know better than to move, better than to distract him" Because both characters are essentially in a mind-controlled fog, neither of them really understands what is happening. However, Natasha has an advantage over "The Soldier." She lucidly assumes he must be there to execute someone, so both fear and duty compel her not to distract him.

("it’s destination" Typo! Writer, you cad. It's "its"!)

"The eyes gazing back at me...are not cold. They are not blank. The Soldier is admiring me...like he’s found a piece of art he enjoys, eyes following the trail of his fingers." Arguably, The Soldier is more tightly controlled than the Widows, having been tortured for decades longer than Natalia and being a greater asset to his handlers than her (also, different handlers, but that's another topic). So for him to notice Natalia, especially when she herself believes she's a ballerina, means there's a flaw in his programming.

I imagined WS had been on his way to do whatever he was ordered to do, only to see this really cute girl nearby and his inner, lost Bucky Barnes was like "huh, that's interesting." It's possibly the first time he's felt an emotion like this in a while too, so he forgets himself (did he know himself to forget himself?) and reaches out to see if she's real.

"He hesitates. He sees me looking" This is kind of the "only two people in the room" trope, but less in a romantic way and more in a "we were not supposed to see each other, much less make direct eye contact" type way. In that handful of seconds, they break through their programming together. But they cannot dwell on it.

("curtain rising" oops, no, I've already established the ballet is in progress, why would the curtain rise again? my bad)

"I hear him slip into the wings and I do not look back, but I listen, focusing all my attention on listening" For their safety, they return to their roles, but Natalia now has food for thought. Even though she tries to move on, she can't forget what she's learned: that the Soldier is trapped in his role as much as she is in hers.

Another layer to this that wasn't clear here is that he shouldn't be there at all. His presence is disrupting her conditioning. His brush with reality alters hers as well. By random happenstance, or perhaps "user error" on the part of his handlers, his small break in character has had a ripple affect on young Natalia. She will eventually be the first to escape because of this random, unsupervised moment.

THANKS FOR SENDING THIS! It was really fun to go over this, mostly forgotten, fic of mine.

---

+ If you enjoy my blog and appreciate my advice, consider visiting my ko-fi and Buy Me A Coffee!🤗

+ Follow me on AO3 - Pinterest - Unsplash for fanfiction and photo inspiration.

#writing #fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #winter soldier fanfic #natalia romanova #natasha x bucky #answer #ask game #long post #my writing

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zenaidamacrouras1 · 1 year

Text

ZenaidaMacrouras1 Fic Masterlist Links to ao3 (all my works on ao3)

Stucky Fics!

Plastered - (59k words - E) (moodboard) Kidfic, catching feelings, Architect Steve and Engineer Bucky

Tension and Tonic (79k words - E) (moodboard) Catching feelings, Angst with a happy ending, Cellist Bucky and Artist Steve

Monoclonius (62k words - E) (moodboard) Kidfic, Sweet, sappy, wholesome lusting, Lobbyist Steve and Paleontologist Bucky

A Climb of Passion (32k words - E) (moodboard) Sweet, sappy, wholesome lusting, Climbing Gym Coach Steve and Recovering Bucky

Take Me Anywhere (3k words - E) (moodboard) Ballet Dancer Bucky and Graphic Designer Steve, Catching feelings, wholesome smut

Cruel Summer (2k words - E) (moodboard) Bucky has a summer job selling ice cream and Steve likes...ice cream

Pursued by Bear (20k words - E) (moodboard) (podfic!) Shakespearean Scholar Steve and Bodybuilder Bucky meet cute + lots of sonnets

Leaving Notes (200 words - E) (moodboard) 200 word ficlet where Sergeant Barnes and Doctor Rogers find a nice quiet on call room.

Backhoe (123,456 words- E) (moodboard) Artist Steve and Appalachian Prince Bucky. Come for the direct action chained to a backhoe meet-cute, stay for the sprawling southern gothic kidfic.

Lucky Screwdriver (6k words - E) (moodboard) Bucky is a very tired graduate student who has plumbing issues. Steve "fixes" his "plumbing" and also fixes his plumbing.

Unpredictable Synchronicity (115k words - M) (moodboard) Slowburn romantic comedy shrunkyclunks with civil rights attorney Bucky Barnes working on gender affirming healthcare and a mostly happy and well adjusted Steve Rogers as Captain America.

Chooser of the Punched (7k words - Gen) (moodboard) Valkyrie joins the Howling Commandos to punch some Nazis in WWII. It is a stretch to call it Stucky, but it's a bit Stucky, is the thing.

The Charming Man (65k - Explicit) (moodboard) Come for the mundane workplace banality, stay for the action, adventure, romance, cozy mornings doing the crossword puzzle in bed and long-suffering best friends.

Masquerade (5k - Explicit) (moodboard) Bucky just wants to hang out with the cheeseplate but he has a sexy hookup instead. Woops.

History of American Capitalism (85k- Explicit) (moodboard) Cute little college AU in which Steve is a small history major and Bucky is the ･✧∘* ✧･STAR QUARTERBACK･✧*∘✧･

RarePair:

Punched! (7500 words - E) (moodboard) The prompt was Steve and Valkyrie punch some Nazis: Modern Political AU. Prequel to Monoclonius.

Meta Stuff!

Writing Modern Steve Roger's Health Issues: A Compendium Deep thoughts on how Steve Rogers' MCU canon illnesses hold up in a modern setting.

#Sweet #sappy #wholesome lusting #stucky au #stucky fanfic #wintershield #steve rogers x bucky barnes #idiots in love #bonky bornes #steeb #steeb and bucket

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sunshinebuckybarnes · 2 years

Text

We made it to September ✨ another month, another rec list. Please make sure you give these gorgeous stories and writers the love they deserve. As always, you are responsible for your own media consumption. This blog along with the majority tagged are 18+ only and contain adult themes.

*marks a series of multi part fic

Lloyd Hansen ✨

69'ing and pussy slapping by @ozarkthedog

Lloyd Hansen x reader

Boys in bed with books by @jobean12-blog

Lloyd Hansen x reader

Bucky Barnes ✨

Stay by @maladaptivexxdaydreaming

ex-fiance bucky barnes x fem!reader

Dancing with the devil by @bonky-n-steeb

dark! mafia! bucky barnes x undercover! reader

Everything by @jadedvibes

Bucky x reader

*CEO/DBF Bucky by @bucky-barnes-diaries

CEO+Dad’s Best Friend!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Bad date by @firefly-in-darkness

Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Bite your tongue by @musingsinmoonlight

Mob boss!Bucky Barnes x female reader

The boy is mine by @jobean12-blog

Bucky x reader

*A hundred years from today by @jettia

Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Cosmic love by @barnesafterglow

noble!bucky x princess!reader

Got your chemicals all in my veins by @bonky-n-steeb

husband! bucky barnes x wife! reader

*Sweetest nectar by @navybrat817

Florist!Bucky Barnes x female reader

*This must be my dream by @lunarbuck

bestfriend'sbrother!Bucky x f!reader (any race)

Twisty by @musingsinmoonlight

Bucky Barnes x female reader

*Pretty little thing, pretty little peach by @angrythingstarlight

Chubby!Baker Bucky x Reader

The perfect place to sit by @angrythingstarlight

Beefy!Trainer Bucky x Plus size reader

Ari Levinson ✨

Knead to relax by @mjolnir-steve

Ari Levinson x fem!reader

Firefighter!Ari by @angrythingstarlight

Firefighter!Ari x Reader

It's about time by @xxindiglow

Ari Levinson x Female Reader

Afternoon delight by @sagechanoafterdark

Ari Levinson x Reader

Under the blue by @maladaptivexxdaydreaming

Park Ranger!Ari Levinson x Female Reader

Steven Grant ✨

To the rescue by @ofstarsandvibranium

Steven Grant x F!Reader

What you've been waiting for by @full-time-make-believer

Steven Grant x female reader

Nick Fowler ✨

Falling apart for you by @navybrat817

Nick Fowler x female reader

Steve Rogers ✨

Liar liar by @geminixevans-stan

Mafia!Steve x Black Reader

Wife worship by @labella420

mob!steve rogers x fem!reader

*His inheritance by @jtargaryen18

Mobster Steve Rogers x Mobster daughter reader

*Herbal illusion by @sweetflowerdreams

King!Alpha! Steve Rogers x Servant!Omega! Reader (Female!Reader)

Andy Barber ✨

A butterfly will fly by @maladaptivexxdaydreaming

Andy Barber x ballet dancer!Reader

Ari Levinson x Steve Rogers ✨

I'll be seeing you by @navybrat817

Spy!Ari Levinson x Female Reader, hint of dark!Steve Rogers x Female Reader

Lee Bodecker x Steve Rogers ✨

Tempting fate by @dreamlessinparis

Semi!Dark!Mob!Lee Bodecker x F!Reader, Mob!Steve x F!Reader

Sam Wilson ✨

Only an echo by @the-witty-pen-name

Rockstar!Sam Wilson x f!reader

Andy Barber & Mike Weiss ✨

*Barber & Weiss by @jtargaryen18

Dark Andy Barber x Dark Mike Weiss x Reader

Steve Harrington ✨

Next time by @pillow-titties

Steve Harrington x Reader

#fic rec #august fic recs #lloyd hansen #bucky barnes #ari levinson #steven grant #nick fowler #steve rogers #andy barber #lee bodecker #sam wilson #mike weiss #steve harrington

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sjsmith56 · 7 months

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First Date

Summary: A misdirected mail mishap results in a young woman, recently moved to New York City meeting the Avenger, Bucky Barnes. With Sam’s help Bucky asks her out then spends the week trying to come up with the perfect first date.

Length: 5K

Characters: Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson, Steve Rogers, Tony Stark, named OFC (Holly), unnamed OFC (sister).

Warnings: Both sisters are mostly not physically described, they’re single, slightly plus sized, nervous Bucky, some slightly impure thoughts from OFC, otherwise this is a pretty fluffy piece.

Author notes: Alternating first person POV between OFC and Bucky. Right now it’s a one shot but it could become more if I get enough feedback. Takes place in a slightly AU MCU, after the events of Endgame and FATWS (one where Bucky and Sam tackled the Flag Smashers themselves as the other Avengers were dealing with other things). There is a tease for a double date with Steve Rogers and Holly’s sister (Coney Island?) so if you would like to see another instalment please comment.

Second date Third date

📦

Holly

I stepped out of the elevator and stopped as soon as I saw the box leaning on my door. Another package. Great. This made four packages delivered to my address instead of the other address which was printed on the shipping label. Another package I had to physically take to the post office to deliver to the correct address. Another hour out of my day standing in line then having to explain that James Barnes didn’t live at my address, was unknown to me, and that he had an unlisted phone number so I couldn’t phone him to pick up his mail. Looking at my watch I sighed. It was already too late to take the package in if I was going to make it to my evening dance class. That meant I would have to take the package to work with me tomorrow then drop it off on my way home.

“Why don’t you just keep it?” my sister suggested when I mentioned it to her at the dance studio. “Obviously the guy keeps putting something wrong on the shipping information whenever he orders whatever he’s buying.”

“You know I can’t do that,” I replied as I started in first position. “If it was my package being misdirected, I would hope that whoever received it would be honest enough to return it. They don’t come back so they obviously make it to him eventually.”

“Or he cancels his order,” said my sister as she mimicked my actions.

“Ladies, less talk, more focus,” said Madame Elise, the ballet mistress.

We both made a face at her when she turned, then both tried to stifle our giggles after. For being in our early thirties we both had our juvenile moments. After class we dried off the perspiration before pulling our sweats on. We never showered at the studio as the facilities bordered on disgusting plus there was a core group of women there with perfect dancer bodies that made us feel inadequate. I’m not into body shaming and although they never said anything out loud it wasn’t hard to see their opinions about our figures in their eyes. Neither of us needed that kind of judgement especially when we were in between boyfriends. On our way out we stopped and picked up an iced cappuccino at the coffee shop then walked to the subway. Finishing our drinks just before the train arrived, we boarded.

When it came to my sister’s stop, she stood up, did a little pirouette and performed a jeté out the door onto the platform. Grinning at her I waved then settled back into the seat ready to get off at my stop, the next one. Joining the others who were also getting off we walked up the stairs towards the exit. I had to stop at the bodega as I was out of milk so by the time I was walking up the steps of the apartment building, it was already dark. Pressing the button for the elevator I waited and waited but it didn’t come, and I groaned as I really didn’t want to walk up five flights of stairs. It had been working well when I left. One of my neighbours came down the stairs with their garbage bag for the dumpster out back.

“It was working earlier,” I stated, gesturing to the elevator.

“Yeah, it was but someone pressed all the buttons as a joke, and it got stuck on four,” he said. “It’s sitting there with an open door. The super called a repairman, but they won’t be in until tomorrow.” He headed towards the door to the alley. “You have someone waiting for you at your door. A big guy. I think he used to live there before you. Something about his mail still being redirected to your address.”

With a sigh I began the long climb up to the fifth floor. There was a man leaning against the wall outside my door. He must have heard me coming up the stairs as he looked in my direction as I exited the stairwell. Even from that distance I was aware of his size, tall and broad shouldered. His dark hair, just long enough to kiss the collar of his jacket, framed a very handsome face highlighted by a pair of incredible blue eyes.

“Hi,” he said casually, with a slight wave of his hand, before he put his phone back in his jacket pocket. “I’m sorry to bother you but the post office screwed up the redirection of my old mail, most of it anyways. They’ve been sending things with my new address on the shipping label back to here.”

“That explains it I guess.” I smiled at him. “Mr. Barnes, is it? I tried to find a way to call but there was no listing for your name. I would have dropped the packages off, but the other address is so far away, and I don’t have a car.”

“Call me Bucky.” His eyes lit up as he smiled. “Not a problem. I’ll leave you my number so if any more mail shows up here, I can pick it up at your convenience.”

Between the time I unlocked my door, and I went inside to retrieve his package I realized who he was. He was still waiting in the hallway, which struck me as odd, until I recalled that I hadn’t invited him in. Looking towards the open door I could see him waiting there patiently.

“I’m sorry, where are my manners?” I stammered. “Would you like to come in?”

“Sure,” he answered, stepping just inside, looking a little uncomfortable. “I didn’t want to presume anything.”

“Did you get the other packages that I returned?” I asked, holding the most recent package in my hands. “I would have brought them over but it’s quite the train ride from here to Midtown.”

“Yes, they did arrive, not that it fixed things.” His smile was warm. “I wouldn’t have expected you to do the Post Office’s job.” He looked a little more at the small flat. “You fixed it up nice here, much nicer than I had it.”

“You lived here for how long?” I asked. “I’ve been here two months.”

“Almost a year,” he replied. “After I got some legal matters cleared up, I had to live in the New York area. This was affordable and it wasn’t far from where I grew up.”

There was an awkward silence, so I stepped forward at the same time he did, intending to give him his package. In the light of my apartment, he was even more handsome, and I tried desperately to think of something to say to him, but my mind went blank, and I smiled politely instead. He took the package and nodded, then turned around, walking out.

“Wait, your phone number!” I called, running to the doorway.

He was at the top of the stairs and sheepishly came back. I unlocked my phone and offered it to him, to enter his information in. Looking at it I sent him a text, then watched as he took his phone out, seeing my name, Holly, which in my blank state of mind had forgotten to give him earlier.

“That’s a pretty name,” he said, as my attention was focused on those beautiful eyes. “I won’t forget who it belongs to.”

“Thank you, it’s been nice meeting you,” I replied.

He headed back down the stairs, and I closed the door, setting the deadbolt in place. I had just met an Avenger. 🔹

Bucky

Sam was still sitting in the driver’s seat, checking his phone when I stepped out of Holly’s building and up to the truck.

“That took you long enough,” he said.

“She wasn’t home, and I wasn’t leaving without my package,” I replied. “You must have seen her coming in. Tall, dark haired, wearing sweats.”

He shrugged. “Pretty?”

“Yeah,” I sighed. “I got so tongue tied. Said I would leave her my phone number then I almost left without giving it to her.”

“You get her number? Did you ask her out?”

“What, already?” I sighed again. “That’s a bit quick, isn’t it?”

“What would old Bucky have done?” he asked. “Would he have asked her out right away?”

“Yeah, but I’m not him anymore.”

“Give me your phone.”

Sam held his hand out. With a third sigh I handed it to him. He tapped out a message and sent it then handed my phone back so I could read what he sent.

Me: Are you free Friday night? I understand if you have other plans. Just thought we could meet for drinks, or I could pick you up. You don’t have to feel obligated or anything.

I couldn’t believe he did that, and I almost started texting to take it back when I got a reply.

Her: I am free on Friday night. We could meet somewhere, or you could pick me up. I’m good either way. Nothing too fancy. I’m not into that.

Staring at my phone screen I tried to think of what to say, not wanting to sound desperate or needy.

Me: Okay! I’ll pick you up at 7:30. You okay with riding a motorcycle?

Her: Sure, that means jeans and a jacket, right? I don’t have a helmet.

Me: I have a spare. Looking forward to it. See you then.

I had a date, an actual date, with a nice-looking girl … woman. Bad habit. I showed Sam and he grinned.

“See, old Bucky is still there. Where are you going?”

I looked at him and swallowed. Old Bucky would have taken a girl out in style, dinner, then dancing, then whatever came from that. But I had already told her that I was picking her up by motorcycle, which meant casual, which meant something outdoors, or a movie, or sightseeing. He started the truck up to drive back to Avengers Tower, making suggestions along the way.

“Empire State Building.”

“Heights, you know how I am about heights,” I answered.

He nodded. “Yankees are in town. You could take her to a ball game.”

I glared at him. Never, ever would I go see the Yankees play. Mets, maybe, but I had hated the Yankees since I was a boy, and I wasn’t about to change that. Sam didn’t say anything more until we got back to the Tower and up to the common room area where the others were gathered, watching Jeopardy. I held up my package, which brought some half-hearted cheers.

“Someone has a date Friday night,” announced Sam. “He’s picking her up on his motorcycle at 7:30 and needs some suggestions.”

“Empire State Building,” said Tony.

“He doesn’t like heights,” stated Steve. “Ball game?”

“Only the Yankees are in town,” replied Sam. “He nearly bit my head off when I suggested it.”

Steve grinned and shook his head, picturing that. He knew how I felt about the Yankees because he felt the same.

“The museum,” he countered. “There’s a new art exhibit.”

I shook my head. “That’s your thing, not mine. It’s okay. I’ll come up with something before Friday.”

Using my phone, I looked up all sorts of things to do in New York but kept finding something wrong with them. Either they were too formal, which I really didn’t want, or they were too noisy and crowded, which I really didn’t need. Some of them appealed to me but started and ended early, meaning the date could be over by 9 pm which didn’t appeal to the old Bucky in me. By Friday morning I was ready to cancel the date then Tony Stark turned to me in the elevator.

“I sent you an email,” he said. “Two suggestions. Take them or leave them. But the first part might be interesting for both of you and the second might be a bit nostalgic for you. The best part is that they’re not far apart and you might be able to do both, if it’s going well.” The elevator doors opened on the lab floor, and he stopped in the elevator doorway, seemingly choosing his words carefully. “I hope you have a good time no matter what you end up doing. You deserve that much.”

When I read the email, I smiled. This might not be so bad. 🔹

Holly

After Bucky left, I called my sister to tell her I had a date with the Avenger, Bucky Barnes, and that he was the one whose packages were being redirected back to his old address, now my apartment. She said something about me having all the luck as she thought Steve Rogers was absolutely dreamy. I didn’t rub it in. The next day she sent me a text.

Her: Empire State Building. He’s taking you to the top, to view all of New York. It’s right out of Sleepless in Seattle.

Me: I’ve read he’s not big on heights, due to surviving that big fall in World War II.

A few hours later she sent another text.

Her: Yankees ball game. They’re hosting the Red Sox.

The answer to that was obvious to me.

Me: He’s a Brooklyn Dodgers fan. No self-respecting Dodgers fan would ever cheer for the Yankees.

On Thursday, she texted again.

Her: Metropolitan Museum of Modern Art.

Me: 🫤

That meant I wasn’t into it. On Friday morning, after several days of sending more suggestions she texted another.

Her: Harbour cruise.

That actually wasn’t a bad idea. Wearing jeans and a jacket would keep me warm out on the water. A harbour cruise would start and end at the same pier and a motorcycle would be easier to park in the crowded area. I looked up the cruises then texted my sister back. They all started at 7:00 and he was picking me up at 7:30 so it couldn’t be a cruise. Then Bucky sent me a text.

Him: We’re still on for tonight, right? We’re going to be taking a walking tour in Greenwich Village so wear good shoes. Then we can have a late dinner at a 24-hour diner near the East Village.

Me: Absolutely. That sounds like fun. Hopefully, it doesn’t rain.

Why did I say that about the rain? Now I had introduced the thought that rain could potentially ruin our date. He sent me a reply.

Him: No rain in the forecast. I’ll see you at 7:30.

I smiled. Obviously, he had already thought of the possibility. When I texted my sister with the itinerary, she sent me a thumbs up emoji. It was looking to be a fun date, with no pressure. At 7:25 there was a knock on my door. When I looked through the peephole, I saw that it was Bucky, and opened the door.

“Hi,” I said. “Come on in.”

He brought his hand out from behind his back, producing a bouquet of mixed flowers. “These are for you.” He seemed a little embarrassed. “I always brought flowers on the first date back in the day.”

I was touched as it was a very sweet gesture. “Thank you, I’ll just put them in some water. Make yourself comfortable.”

He wiped his feet on the doormat and stepped in further, sitting down on the sofa. As he stretched his long legs out, I found a vase and filled it with water. Smiling politely, he watched me then stood up and came over to the small kitchen island.

“Everything alright?” I asked.

“I’m nervous,” he admitted. “I had a date a while ago and messed it up when I had a bit of an anxiety attack partway through. She wouldn’t talk to me after that. Can’t say I blame her.” He breathed out noticeably.

“You feeling nervous now?”

“A little.” He fixed those gorgeous eyes on me. “I’m 106 years old, haven’t really dated since the 1940s and some days I feel so old and out of place. I used to be quite the ladies' man before the war.” He breathed out again. “My friend Sam sent the original text as I didn’t think a nice-looking girl like you would go out with me.”

“I haven’t had a date in a few months,” I told him. “Before then I had a boyfriend who told me that I would be prettier if I lost 20 pounds or so. He wasn’t my boyfriend after that. I know I’m not perfect, but I like who I am. Do you want to go out with me still?” He nodded, then smiled and said yes. “Then we’ll go out. I think you’re a gentleman first, and I liked that you brought me flowers, and I liked hearing you call me a nice-looking girl.”

When I brought my jacket out, he helped me on with it, then waited patiently as I locked the door. Down at the sidewalk was his motorcycle, one of those classic ones that usually cost an arm and a leg. He unlocked the security compartment, bringing out a helmet for me. Making sure it fit properly he put his on, zipped up his leather jacket, and straddled the seat, gesturing for me to get on behind him.

“Hold on tight,” he said. “If it’s too much for you, pat my front two times and I’ll pull over. I’m a safe driver and I won’t let you fall. I promise.”

Placing my purse crossways over my body I got on behind him and wrapped my arms around his middle. Even through his jacket I could feel how firm his abdomen was. For a brief moment I pictured him shirtless (yes, it was nice) and giggled then put the thought out of my head as I leaned against his back. The rumble of the motorcycle was loud, even inside my helmet but as soon as he put it into gear it lessened slightly. The motorcycle proved to be the perfect vehicle as he could easily get out of any traffic snarl quickly and just over 20 minutes later, we arrived at Washington Square Park. After locking our helmets back inside the security compartment, he held his right hand out to me and guided me to where a small group of people were waiting. We checked in and waited for the rest of the people to arrive.

🔹

Bucky

Even though I was recognized by the tour guide I kept my attention on Holly, making sure that she didn’t feel ignored. She took my hand again as we waited for the rest of the people. When they arrived, our tour began with a history of Washington Square Park, including the fact that it was a native burial ground as well as a cemetery used to bury the dead of the American Revolution. Apparently, they still occasionally found human remains whenever an excavation had to be done on repairing utilities. We also went to what was called the Pirate’s Den, connected to a notorious woman, named Vivian Gordon, murdered in late February 1931.

“I was 12, almost 13 years old,” I blurted out. “I think I remember that. Wasn’t the mayor of New York implicated in that murder?”

The tour guide looked at me, smiling. “I can safely say that this is the first time I’ve had a participant who was around for one of the older historical events in this tour.”

It got everyone laughing and Holly squeezed my hand, smiling at me. From there we were shown where Mark Twain lived, and where his ghost apparently made appearances. The tour guide had a device that supposedly could show the presence of a ghost electronically, but it didn’t show anything there, although it did on other places that we stopped at, specifically the Brown Building, where the Triangle Shirtwaist Fire occurred, killing over 140 women. After an hour of walking and stopping at various landmarks the tour ended back at Washington Square Park. I slipped the tour guide an extra $20 and mentally thanked Tony Stark for suggesting the activity. It had been interesting, and I think Holly liked it as well. She looked over my arm as I checked the address of the diner.

“It’s close enough to walk, about twenty minutes,” I said. “Would you mind if we left the motorcycle here, so I don’t have to find another parking spot?”

“Not at all,” she responded, taking my hand again.

Making sure I was walking between Holly and the street we strolled along without speaking, not that we needed to fill the silence with anything. Instead, we just enjoyed each other's presence. We did have to dodge a guy on a skateboard that zipped towards us, but Holly just casually turned towards me as he passed.

“Sorry,” she said, as her other hand reached for my chest, and I put my other arm around her. “He came out of nowhere.”

“It was worth it,” I said, without thinking.

It was something old Bucky would say. Her face lit up as she smiled at my reply. Patting my chest with her hand, she looked up in a way that brought back memories of previous dates. I almost kissed her then she dropped her hand and returned to walking beside me, her hand firmly in mine. When we arrived at the diner Holly’s face seemed pleased.

“I didn’t know about this place!”

“Tony Stark suggested it,” I replied, holding the door open for her.

It was bright inside, considered retro for the 21st century with its checkerboard flooring, booths with padded seats, and the older lighting fixtures. In the 1940s it would have been seen as futuristic with its many curved lines in the finishings. We were seated in a booth where our knees touched. I was about to ask to be moved but she just smiled and said it didn’t bother her. It reminded me of when Sam and I first started working together during the Flag Smashers, and we had the impromptu therapy session inside the Baltimore police station. Before I could tell Holly about it, the waitress arrived to take our drink orders. Not wanting to give her the wrong impression I ordered a coffee. She ordered a chocolate milkshake and asked for a starter of mozzarella sticks. Quietly, we looked at the menu, although I tried to look at her some more. When our drinks arrived Holly ordered a chicken wrap and salad. I ordered the meatloaf special, and a bacon cheddar burger with fries on the side. Before I could explain she looked at me with some amusement.

“So, it’s true?” she asked, her eyes bright. “Super soldiers have to eat a lot of food to keep their energy up. I envy you. I wish I could eat like that.”

“It’s true but it’s not always enjoyable,” I replied. “After really heavy missions that take a lot out of us, I barely have enough energy to eat at all, but I have to force myself. Bruce … Bruce Banner, invented a supplement for me and Steve to boost our calorie intake and give us instant energy, but it’s not the best tasting and the texture is kind of awful.”

“I guess that would be a downside,” she offered. “My sister has a crush on him, on Steve.” She clarified. “She’s my best friend and we would have lived together but she got here a year before I did, found a place to share and co-signed the lease. When I decided to move here, I had to find my own place because she was locked into the lease with her roommate. We’re only one stop away from each other and we see each other a lot.”

“Does she have a boyfriend?”

I was asking because I knew Holly would appeal to Steve and if her sister was like her, perhaps she would be good to double date with. That would be something, a double date with Steve that might actually work in his favour as he was still as hopeless now with the ladies as he was in the 1940s.

“She’s between boyfriends right now.” A smile crossed Holly’s face that lit her up from inside. “You thinking of fixing her up with Steve Rogers?”

I shrugged. “Wouldn’t be the first time I tried. Even though he is more handsome now he’s still the same shy guy he was when we were younger. Takes him weeks just to get up the courage to say hi to a girl.”

She was leaning towards me with her chin resting on her hand. “I like how you call me a girl. It’s supposed to be a put down in these times, but I guess to someone of your age, someone my age is a girl. I’m not offended by it, although I guess some are.”

Just like that Holly put me even more at ease. Our mozzarella sticks arrived, and she took the first one dipping it into the sauce. Tentatively I bit into one, then smiled as the cheese stretched out from my mouth to the stick. Holly giggled a little as we grappled with the strings of cheese. Our main food arrived just as we finished the last of the appetizer. Holly stole some of my fries which didn’t bother me at all. For dessert I had apple pie à la mode, while she had chocolate cake.

Tony had good instincts referring me to this place. It was informal enough that neither one of us tried to impress the other. We talked more about all sorts of things, my love of books, her love of dancing, our shared interest in science and technology. After I paid the bill, I opened the door to the outside and we stepped out into the night, which had cooled down a little since our tour. We headed back towards the park where my motorcycle was parked. As we got closer, we could hear the sounds of music and applause.

“Street performers!” exclaimed Holly. “Please, can we watch?”

How could I say no?

🔹

Holly

Watching the street performers with Bucky was something else. He had never seen buskers like this before. Jugglers with fire sticks, catchy music and clever repartee were just the beginning. There were some aerial gymnasts doing all sorts of tricks that displayed their acrobatic abilities. A pair of guys with tap shoes danced to hip hop in ways that successfully melded the two forms of entertainment. Another guy with a bmx bicycle did all sorts of twists, turns and jumps including some on an obviously home-made ramp that defied gravity. It was an explosion of sight, sound, and colour that intrigued him, making him so much fun to be with, not to mention even more gorgeous. I gave some money to the hats that were passed around, explaining this was probably how many of the buskers made a living. He added some of his own. When we finally pulled away and began the walk to his motorcycle Bucky couldn’t stop talking about how entertaining it all was.

“Does this happen all the time here?” he asked. “Tony never said anything about it but if it does, then I owe him. That was amazing, just amazing.”

We were holding hands and he stopped at the motorcycle, pulling me closer. It was like we were in a movie as he looked so softly at me, making me feel all sorts of things, both good and kind of scary because I had never been this close to someone like him. Most of my dates were of the nerdy kind, nice but slightly socially inept. This was Bucky Barnes, handsome, notorious, and an absolute dreamboat. When our lips met, I swear there was music. Of course, we were only a block away from the park where the entertainment was still going on, but the sounds from there just seemed to add to the romance in our little moment of kissing. He could really kiss … I guess that’s something a guy doesn’t forget, no matter what kind of hell he’s been through.

“I should have asked first,” he murmured when we stopped. “I suppose I got caught up in the moment.”

“Why don’t you ask then?” I replied, looking up at him.

“Can I kiss you?”

“Yes, please.”

The second kiss was even better as it was accompanied by his arms wrapping themselves around me and mine wrapping themselves around him, bringing thoughts of him shirtless and more, to my mind again. This kiss also lasted a lot longer before we stopped, and he looked at me.

“I should get you home,” he said, not sounding completely convinced by his own words.

We got back onto the motorcycle, pulling up in front of my building a short time later. After dismounting I took my helmet off then handed it to him.

“I had a really good time,” I said. “Would you like to come up?”

Even in the dim light I could tell he was blushing. “If this was the 1940s, I would have said yes, but I’m not that Bucky anymore. I kind of played the field then and I want something more than that now.”

He really was something else and I looked at him with my heart racing a little. “So, you want a second date?”

“Yes, do you?” I replied yes and we kissed again, a really nice and sweet kiss. “Then I’ll call you soon. I promise.”

I went inside the door of the building and up the now working elevator. When I got inside the small flat, I looked out the window and smiled to see that Bucky was still waiting beside his motorcycle, apparently watching for me to appear. He waved to me, then put his helmet on and started up the motorcycle before pulling away. It might have been just a first date, but it was one of the best dates I had ever been on, and I hope Bucky felt the same.

If you read this one shot and enjoyed it please like, comment and reblog.

#buckybarnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #buckybarnes original female character #sam wilson #steve rogers #tony stark #first date #dating in New York #nervous bucky #what is there to do in nyc on a Friday night?

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subwaysurf45 · 2 years

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A Little Rusty (Ep.1)

Summary: As an aspiring author and current intern, getting a new car was a luxury you never dreamed of. Natasha, your roommate, used you as a personal chauffeur until your car started breaking down. Luckily, you knew some people who worked at Auto Buddy, an auto shop, who could fix your car. But you hadn’t met Bucky yet, and quickly after you found out you’d be stuck with him for a little while.

Words: 3,476

Pairing: Machinic!Bucky x reader

Warning: rude co-workers, swearing, inaccurate descriptions of auto repair, fluff

Series Masterlist

“You’re getting a ride home from Steve, right?” You asked as you drove down the narrow street that is Wall Street.

“Yep,” Natasha had her purse on her lap, getting ready to jump out to keep you from parking in the busy area, “I’m also going to sleep over there as well.”

“Alright,” you smiled and checked your back mirror, “have a good day, Nat.”

“You too,” she looked both ways before jumping out of the car and running across the street, skipping up the steps to get into her building. You waited until the door closed and you knew she was in to take off, driving by all the Teslas and sports cars.

“Jesus,” you muttered, “I hate it here.”

You drove down the street and saw almost everyone talking on their phone, already starting their workday. As you passed in your beat-up, rusted car they looked at you, wondering what reason you were in the financial district. Something as simple as a car could define your worth to these people who worked here, seeing a dent on your fender made them speculate how much you earned. It was never appealing, this lifestyle, you didn’t know how Natasha could stand the snobs that flirted with her every day as she sat at the secretary’s desk.

“They’ve never gotten to my head,” Natasha said once as she sat across from you on the floor, “I do it because it plays well, my dad got me the job, and I get benefits,” she took a swig of the wine bottle before passing it to you.

You had always wondered if she judged you or felt embarrassed when she had to walk into work with a terrible car while her co-workers parked in cars that were more fitting for their jobs. Maybe she always said she took an Uber to work, most of her co-workers would probably be impressed with that much money she can freely use to get around.

You really tried to not let it get to your head.

But it was really easy to believe that.

When you arrived at your job you walked in with a smile, the actors of the Off-Broadway show were rehearsing and cheered when they saw you walk in. it was a small family there which was what kept you coming back, the pay was also decent.

“There’s coffee and breakfast backstage,” Lisa, the female lead, pointed backstage after giving you a hug. It wasn’t a musical, just a play, but most of the actors could sing so the small theatre was always bursting with music. It was also a small ensemble and team, the play had just made it to Off-Broadway so things were small.

The lead actor working beside Lisa was Ryan, he was your age and always very flirty towards you. He was a little taller than you which allowed you to see his green eyes clearer, the brown hair also made them pop. his hair was light brown and a little shaggy, he couldn’t pull it back into a bun or ponytail but it got in his eyes a lot. He used to be a ballet dancer so he held himself well, you always caught him practicing his basic positions even though they weren’t needed in the play.

“Why’d you quit?” you asked as you looked up at the ceiling, laying on the floor of his dressing room.

“It was toxic,” he said without thinking, “it was a surprise to meet a female dancer who hadn’t developed an eating disorder, all the male teachers were gay and would pray on the boys- I had one instructor who made it so fucking obvious he was looking at my crotch while I performed.”

“Oh my God,” you rolled on your side to look at him, “Ryan that’s terrible, I’m so sorry,” your hand reached out to touch his arm.

“I thought I was gay and told my teammates but later found out I was bi and that caused a whole other thing- it was just terrible, fucking awful.” He looked over at you, “theatre is just a breath of fresh air.”

“I’m glad,” you smiled and sat up, “we should go find the crew.”

You found the craft table at the back and took a bagel with a cream cheese package, making your way down the hall and to the prop and costume room. Because you were just an intern you were placed wherever they needed you not where you wanted, so you worked in props and costumes. Sam, head of props and Jordan, head of costumes passed you back and forth throughout the day. Opening night was coming up and everything needed to be perfect.

“Hey guys,” you smiled and as you walked in, Sam hummed in acknowledgement while Jordon turned around with a smile.

“Hey, girl,” Jordan stood up to give you a hug, she squeezed you tightly. “I don’t need anything now, Sam needs some stuff done though.”

“Alright,” you smiled and walked over, taking a bite of your food. “Hey, Sam.”

“Hi,” he said quickly before pushing a box towards you, “I need you to fill up these tubs with tea and stain the papers but I also need you to write random stuff on these papers before you dunk the papers in, let them dry and that’ll be good.”

“What part of the play are these used for?” you asked, picking up the box with all the stuff.

“A little bit of everything, make a few flyers and others ripped out book pages, some can be letters, they’re for all the time.” Sam was hunched over a long piece of wood, creating some accents for the sets.

“You got it,” you smiled before walking out and using the back door so you wouldn’t stink up the place with the scent of tea.

Before you started to work you checked your phone.

Unknown Number: Hello, this is James Barnes, we met briefly yesterday. I work at Auto Body and Steve told me you need some tune-ups for your car, I’m free today if you have the time to bring it in.

You: hi, so nice to hear from you. I was going to call on my break to make an appointment, I get off work at around 3:00 pm.

Unknown Number: alright, that’s a little past my hours so you might not see me but you’ll see Steve or Wanda, what’s the problem so I can leave a note for them?

You: sorry about that, I’m very busy. Anyways, there’s a weird sound near my back right tire, my AC is broken, and I noticed there's a screw loose on my front right tire.

Unknown Number: wow, how long have you had the car?

You: almost eight years.

Unknown Number: okay, thanks for letting me know, it seems like you’ll be in here a lot so I’ll see you around.

You: perfect, thanks again.

James: no worries.

You placed your phone beside you and started making the tea water, the water didn’t need to be hot. As you worked in the alleyway you watched the cars drive down Broadway, the sounds of honking and yelling were normal for you, it didn’t capture your attention at all.

“Hey,” Ryan had walked outside, holding a cigarette.

“Hi,” you smiled up at him before looking back down again, “how are you?”

“Pretty good,” he smiled back, “yourself?”

“I’m actually great,” you smiled, “I’m getting my car partly fixed which is nice, Natasha always complains about the AC.”

Ryan took a drag of his cigarette, “why the fuck is she complaining?” you were caught off guard by his tone, “you’re the one driving her, she should be grateful you’re even giving her rides.”

“It's not like that,” you shook your head, “I barely make enough money from this job, she plays the bulk of rent- well, actually her parents do -but she covers utilities so it’s an exchange, I guess,” you shrugged. There were a lot of tea bags in the bin, getting the water really saturated before putting the papers in.

“Still,” Ryan blew out a long cloud of smoke, “she shouldn't be complaining.”

“Well…” you muttered under your breath, not knowing what to say to him. He stood there and smoked while you got the papers ready, you were going to let the water steep while you wrote different things on the papers.

“I’m going back in,” Ryan said after a while, stepping on his cigarette, “see you.”

“Bye,” you waved and the door closed loudly, causing you to flinch a little.

With headphones in you began to draw on all the papers, creating little stories for each flyer, letter, and missing dog poster. It seemed as though your creative brain never shuts off, all you did was create stories for small and inanimate pieces of objects, inspiring yourself constantly. You could remember from a young age you were always creating, either make-believe words for your friends to play in or layered storylines for your dolls. It made sense you went into writing when you got older, that’s all you’ve ever wanted to do.

Your alarm going off for 2:30 rang loudly in your ears, taking you out of the world you had been living in all afternoon. After cleaning up and saying goodbye to everyone you found your car and put the address of the Auto Body shop.

“Auto Buddy?” you laughed as you saw the actual name of the shop, as you drove you couldn’t help but giggle at the name, it was weird and less sophisticated than you thought.

When you arrived it looked very empty, there weren’t any noises coming from the garage and the parking lot was empty. As you walked inside you quickly checked the text messages to make you were supposed to be here at this time, a redhead behind the counter perked up when you walked in; knocking the bell attached to the door.

“Hi!” she waved.

“Hello,” you smiled and put your phone in your pocket, “you guys really do close at three, huh?” you looked at the walls to see small photos of a few certifications.

“Yeah,” she shrugged, “Steve kinda just left and Bucky has been cutting back hours.”

“Who’s Bucky?” you laughed at the name, “is that a nickname?”

“Yeah, for James Barnes.”

“Shit,” you muttered, “I mean, yeah, I met him yesterday and he texted me about coming at this time- he did say Steve was going to be here.”

“I’m an intern, Wanda,” she smiled, “I can take a look at your car, we’ll go back out and you can tell me about it and then I’ll try my best.”

You nodded and followed Wanda outside, the spring was still cold in the late afternoon. Your arms quickly hugged yourself to try and keep warm as you walked to where your old car was parked, Wanda wasn’t fazed by the hard wind blowing her bright red hair.

“So,” she turned to the car, her hair whipping over her head, “what’s going on?”

“Um,” you were facing the wind, causing it to blow right in your face, “there’s a rattling noise in the back-agh!” you pulled out the piece of hair that flew into your mouth, “back right tire makes noise, missing bolts, and my AC is broken.” You said as fast as you can, trying to get the consultation over with.

Wanda was completely oblivious to your chill, “does your heat work?”

“Barley,” you jumped a few times to keep the blood from freezing.

“Alright, you can go back inside and I’ll take a look,” Wanda smiled and stood beside the car.

“Are you going to work out here in the wind?” you asked after taking a few paces back and seeing that she was staying there.

“I don’t have the keys to open the garage.”

You nodded and turned towards the very small waiting room, “this is a disaster,” you whispered to yourself as you reached for the door, it flew open after catching the wind the wrong way. You chose one seat out of the three available.

The white tile floor was actually stained brown with mud and grime, there was a mat by the door but it was saturated with mud. Three out of the four walls in the main room were windows, the wall you had your back to when sitting on the waiting chair looked out into the street where you saw Wanda fighting against the wind, another was to the side and just showed where spare parts were, and the other on your left was the garage; you saw cars suspended and work materials left until tomorrow. On the wall behind the front desk, there was a bulletin board with random clippings and reminders for other people, there was also a door that was left slightly ajar, showing off an office space that looked like a shared room. The certifications were between the office door and the bathroom door, right next to the bulletin board.

It was small, dirty, and cold.

Not exactly what you were expecting.

You could hear the wind rattling in the poorly installed windows, the air rushing through the cracks and causing your teeth to begin to chatter. You had a light jacket, a t-shirt, and pants. The cold wind had already made it through your jacket and was now eating away at your skin. Every time you looked over your shoulder Wanda was in a different position but she wasn’t doing anything, just standing there and tapping her lip with the pen.

You: get Steve to come to the auto shop, I’m begging you

Nat: what? We are on a date, he booked it off.

You: well Wanda has been standing next to my car for fifteen minutes and hasn’t done anything

Nat: Steve asked if Bucky is there?

Nat: Bucky is James you met on the weekend.

You: he’s not there, it’s just me and her

You: please, it’s so fucking cold and I want to go home, I’m so sorry I bothered you on your date but I’m begging you get me out of here.

As you pressed send you got an incoming call from Nat, “hello?” you picked up.

“This is Steve,” his voice cut through quickly, “Nat told me it’s just you and Wanda there, no one else?”

“Y-yeah, just me and her…” you looked over your shoulder to see one of your tires had been removed, your left tire. “She just took off my left tire, I said my right tire was making noise- are you fucking-”

“I’m on my way,” Steve hung up.

You debated going outside, for a second you stood in the middle of the deathly quiet waiting room and watched as Wanda tried to fix the only part of your car that wasn’t broken, your left tire.

You went back outside.

“What are you doing?” you yelled over the howling wind.

“Fixing your car…?” Wanda asked.

“I said my right tire, not my left, why have you taken off my left-fucking-tire!” you pointed to your car that wasn’t suspended, wasn’t properly secure, and wasn’t properly being taken care of.

She seemed to freeze and look down at the car, “oh…”

In that moment, all you could do was laugh. Wanda looked at you like you were insane as you gripped your hair and laughed to yourself. She called your name as you walked away, going back into the waiting room and sitting down, cradling your head as you shivered from the cold.

All at once, the door opened and the bell rang, you looked up to see a very annoyed-looking James standing by the door. “Hi,” he breathed out before walking to the back office, you stood but he just closed the door behind him.

When you looked over your shoulder you saw Wanda crying into Steve’s chest, Steve looked very uncomfortable with one hand weirdly rubbing her back as she cried. You quickly walked back outside and was slapped in the face by the wind again, the sun was beginning to set as well.

“What thee hell happened?” you asked, in a matter of seconds things went from bad to worse

Steve just shook his head, “Bucky got really mad.”

“Did he yell at her?” you whispered.

“He never yells,” Steve shook his head, “he just…well…”

“He called me an incompetent child,” Wanda sobbed.

You took a deep breath before walking back into the waiting room, knocking on the office door. James gave a hum of acknowledgment, you opened the door to see him resting against the desk with his back to you; it looked like he was pinching his nose.

“Steve, we need- oh,” James had looked over his shoulder and when seeing you he straightened up, “I’m so sorry about all of this, you’re not going to pay a thing,” James said kept apologizing.

“She’s just learning,” you tried to reason with him.

“No,” James shook his head, “this wasn’t learning, this was her thinking she could do more than what she knew. Yes, Steve should have been there but there was a mix up with the schedules, but all work happens in the garage, she needed to call one of us to get the key, she should have written everything down in a file rather than a sheet of paper- if one of us was here she would have gotten access to the files.” James pushed all his long hair out of his face, “she tried to be a hero and ended up messing with your car.”

“Did she make it worse?” you kept rubbing your arms, trying to warm yourself up.

“You won’t need to pay for anything,” James grumbled.

“Fuck,” you whispered, “I have to get home, I have a job, I have to drive Nat, this can’t happen,” you stressed to him.

James just looked down at his desk, “I will personally fix all of this, I’ll come in early and stay late if it means your car gets fixed.”

“She said you were cutting hours for personal reasons, you don’t have to.” you shook your head, and the rest of your body shook.

“She said what?” his head snapped up to look at you, “Jesus that intern doesn’t know when to shut up.”��

“I’m an intern,” you pressed, cupping your hands to your mouth and blowing hot air.

“Sorry,” James shook his head, he quickly left the room was turned to the corner to the washroom. You slowly made your way out of the office to see James coming back with a grey blanket, there were a few burn holes in it but you accepted the offer, “I would have offered you the office but she needed the key,” he wrapped the blanket around your shoulders.

“Can I get a ride home?” you asked as you pulled it tighter around you.

“Of course,” James walked you outside and to his car, your car had been moved into the garage and Steve was walking towards his car as well, Wanda wasn’t around.

“Steve,” you walked over to him, “I’m so sorry I ruined your date.”

“Don’t worry,” Steve patted your shoulder, “Nat’s at the restaurant, she’s okay, I’m glad I came through.”

“Thanks again,” you smiled and Steve waved before walking away.

James was standing next to his car, when you got closer he opened the door for you before running around to the other side. You looked around his sleek convertible, he had the top down which was nice, it was much warmer in the car.

“Where’s home?” he asked.

You gave the address and he began to drive.

“So,” his fingers tapped the wheel as the light stayed on red, “where do you work?”

“A theatre on Broadway,” you said as you looked at your legs, “I’m helping with props and costumes.”

“Cool,” he muttered as he waited for the light to change, “and you’re an intern?”

“Yep,” you nodded and looked out the window, “I’m doing this now for the exposer but I’m planning on publishing a book after I graduate,” you continued to look out the window but when he didn’t respond you looked over, “what?”

He had a horrified look on his face, “Graduate? How old are you?”

“Twenty-seven,” you answered quickly, “green,” you muttered so he started to drive again, “I’m getting my masters not my undergrad,” you slowly looked over at him. It was only now that you noticed the soft wrinkles near his eyes, a few around his brow. There was also grey in his stubble, nothing in his hair. “How old are you?” you asked.

“Thirty-six,” he said as he turned, “I was just…if you were like twenty-one then I wouldn’t be talking or even looking at you, no offence.”

“None taken,” you pressed your lips together, “but I’m not lying when I say I’m twenty-seven, just so you know.”

“Thank you,” he said genuinely, “is this your place?” he pointed to your right.

“Yeah,” you picked up your bag that sat near your feet. Your fingers missed the handle and hit something else, you chose to leave it alone, you barely knew him. “I have a question,” you said as you picked up your bag and placed it on your lap.

“What’s up?” he looked over.

“Who’s Bucky?”

“Did Wanda call me Bucky?” he laughed, when you nodded he seemed to understand, “it was a nickname that never left me since high school. My middle name is Buchannan and people thought Bucky was a good fit because of that nickname, to be honest, I hated it for a while but it grows on you.” He smiled and tapped his thumbs on the base of the wheel again.

“That makes sense,” you nodded, “Natasha and Wanda called you Bucky so I got confused but they explained that you were the same person,” you both laughed.

“You can call me Bucky,” he said, “and how I acted back there, all mean and grumpy to Wanda, it was just bad timing and I took it out on her,” you smiled as he talked, “I’m not usually like that.”

“I see,” you open the door and get out of the car, when you hear your name called you lean down again to see Bucky.

He’s leaning over the middle console with a smile, “what time do I need to pick you up for work tomorrow?”

NEXT EPISODE

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