My Two Favourite Words Are Now Maybe Later

my two favourite words are now maybe later

Maybe Later- B. Barnes

Pairings: bucky barnes x reader, sam wilson, thor odinson Warnings: alcohol, bucky is drunk (ooc? Have we ever seen him drunk i watched all of his scenes lol) About: this quote thing. I dont know if i got what i was aiming for. (“marry me” “maybe later”

Three-oh-two glows red in pinched little lines on your alarm, blunt in the darkness of the room and sharp against the pale light the moon manages through margins between your curtains. The numbers are smudged in sleep as you blink awake from what was meant to be a short rest for your eyes, bent and refracted like you’re looking through a finger-smudged window. You could easily mistake it for a dream if your phone weren’t singing loudly from your bedside table.

With a groan, you slam a hand over it, the piercing noise insistent even with your fingers wrapped around its width. You squint against the brightness of the screen, sitting up when you recognize Sam’s contact name in bold white letters.

“Hello?” you greet tiredly, rolling your shoulders as your weariness begins to pass. The rivets of your jeans dig into your abdomen, your casual shirt proves itself not soft enough for sleep, and you pick at the shoulder. The blankets are creased and made beneath you.

“Hey, sleeping beauty.” Sam’s voice comes through rough and curved in a smile you can see through the phone. “Got somethin’ for you.”

You blink at the wall. “What?”

“A grumpy old man.”

“Which one?” An amused crackle smothers the delicate silence. “What happened to twelve? I tried to wait.”

“Someone had a little too much to drink.” There’s commotion from the other side of the line, a joyous yell and shattering. Sam groans loudly.

“Well, Asgardian liquor tends to stir something in our Avengers,” you mumble, scooting to the edge of your bed to squeeze on your shoes, squished and set next to you at the ready.

“You have no idea.” Sam mutters. Bucky’s voice suddenly comes through, distant and too distorted to make out specifics. “Incoming.”

“I have a little one,” you digress, lashes kissing at their edges in your search for the car keys that had been at your hip. 

“Hey, what the hell was that noise--” Sam begins, far away, before he’s abruptly cut off. “Hey--”

“Honey?” Bucky’s voice is loud enough that you wince and pull the speaker away from your ear, catching a glint from your bed. “S’that you?”

“Yeah, darling, it’s me,” you murmur, voice a little honeyed as you hook a finger through the car key ring peeking from behind a pillow.

“I miss you,” his words bump into each other, so heartfelt he can’t get them out fast enough with a heavy tongue. “Will y’come get me please?”

“I’m on my way. Don’t get into too much trouble,” you command gently, jaw against the soft flesh of your neck to keep your phone steady while you pull at your left shoe.

He makes a disgruntled noise. “F’course not.”

“Don’t drink any more, you’re going to have a killer hangover tomorrow as it is.” You step out of your room and make your way to the elevator, pressing the button for the ground floor.

“That is not true. My tolerance is,” he hiccups and bursts into a startled laugh, “high. Way higher than Steve’s.”

“Is that true?” You chuckle, stepping out once the doors have parted. 

“Yeah,” Bucky affirms agreeably.

“Interesting. Can’t wait to see how Golden Boy is doing.”

“Not great, but at least he’s having fun,” Sam cuts in, Bucky’s indignance about it muffled over the phone. “He’s going to regret--Barnes, give me a second--he’s gonna regret ever touching the--Barnes, damn it--the stuff. You asshole, you have your own phone--”

There’s a click and then silence, where you’re left staring amusedly at a dimming screen with one foot ready to climb into your car. “Well then,” you mumble, shutting off the device before you set it neatly in the cupholder between the two front seats. After you’ve turned on the engine and begun to set off, you turn mournfully to the clean inside of your car and hope ceaselessly that it’ll stay that way.

You’re only a few minutes from Sam’s house when your phone rings out a familiar bouncy tune you’d had Bucky pick out for his identifying ringtone. It was sweet and melancholy all at the same time, and it had taken him ten seconds and a look at your beaming face for him to label it as his.

His voice is stretched out and mournful when you answer, your name replaced with a rare Baby?

“Hey, honey. Found your phone?”

He ignores you, breathing out a long sigh. “I miss you.”

“We just talked on the phone,” you laugh. “I haven’t even given you a chance to miss me yet.”

He seems to mull it over for a short moment, elongated in his hazy mind. “Are you on your way?”

“I’m almost there.”

“That’s good because I miss you.”

“Do you now?” you hum.

“Steve knows,” Bucky pillars.

“I bet he does,” you laugh. Bucky hums in confirmation. “How much have you had to drink?” you ask. “You even sound a little different.”

“I missed this,” Bucky muses drily. “I love Asgard.”

“You’re going to take that back tomorrow.” You turn and spot the name of Sam’s street. “But it’s okay because I’ll take care of you.”

What follows you don’t expect. Bucky breathes out loud, nearly doleful, coming out static on your end.

You frown. “Bucky? Is something wrong?”

“No,” he sulks, a complete lie.

You don’t bother pushing him when he’s more stubborn than usual and you’re only a voice on his phone. “If you say so. I’m almost there, okay? I’m going to hang up now.”

“Don’t hang up. I want to hear your voice.”

“I’ll make you a deal,” you catch sight of Sam’s house. “I hang up, and you’ll get a lot more than my voice in a minute. What do you think?”

There’s a petulant sigh on the receiver. “What about the wonders of technology?”

“What happened to ‘we did just fine in the forties’?”

He says your name long and pleading.

“You get very dramatic when you’re drunk, you know that? I’ll be with you before you know it.”

“No. No… c’mon, please, dove.”

“I’m pulling in!” you exclaim.

“I don’t see you.”

“That’s not surprising. Seeing through walls isn’t a super-solder ability as far as I know,” you tease, shutting off the engine and unbuckling yourself. You nestle your phone between the soft crook of your neck as you open the door.

You can see Bucky pout through the phone.

“I’m coming in. Stop gossipping about me to the guys, okay?” you goad, coming to a stop in front of the door. It’s only a glance at the doorbell before Sam, bare-chested, appears in the doorway, haloed by light and smoke from his house. You gape at him. “Why are you--”

“Get him out of my house.”

“I’m trying,” you muster, letting him usher you inside. The house is a mess, with Avengers strewn on the couches and cups everywhere.

“Get them all out of my house. Why did I volunteer to host?”

You shrug, shaking your head as you observe the mess.

Bucky says your name from the phone, reminding you that he’s still on the line, but you don’t need to answer once you spy him in a kitchen seat next to Steve, slumped next to him.

Bucky’s face is bothered, his voice echoed each time he says something. Once you’re a few steps behind him, you hang up and slip your phone into your pocket.

Bucky grunts, pulling a face as he stares at his phone, fingers already moving to your contact just when you position yourself close enough to feel the heat of him on your skin. It’s only a moment testament to his inebriation before he turns, furrowed brows softening when his eyes meet yours. His phone clatters to the table, forgotten.

He murmurs your name, kind and relieved in a melancholy shade. Vibranium fingers twine their way between yours.

“Hey,” you whisper. “I found you.”

“You found me,” he parrots softly, pulling you closer nearly on instinct.

Your free index reaches up to brush a stray strand of brown hair from his face, grazing the warm skin of his forehead, and he leans into it, his other hand going up to grab it too.

You can’t help your smile, dipping down to constellate kisses along his hairline. “Ready to go home?”

He hums his agreeance, watching you with honey eyes. When he moves closer to you, Steve’s elbow slides down the table. With a quick swoop, you remove a hand from Bucky’s hold to cradle Steve’s head before it can slam down onto the surface. You turn to Sam in bewilderment. He shrugs.

Carefully, you set him down on the table, awkwardly patting his hair. “Didn’t think Captain America would go down because of alcohol poisoning, but I guess it had to be something.”

Bucky pulls on the hand he’s still holding, bringing your attention back to him.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, crouching to be able to see him better.

He grins dumbly, majorly soft. “You look pretty.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help the pleased little swoop of your heart. “You look pretty too, you know that?”

“He knows,” Sam cuts in, near accusing toward you.

“Shut up, Sam,” Bucky mumbles.

Sam scowls. “In my own damn house.” He moves to Steve, draping him over himself. “I’ll see you tomorrow, gotta lug all these idiots onto their sides.”

“Okay,” you laugh, “thank you, Sam.”

He grunts in reply, leaving you and Bucky alone. He’s already looking at you when you turn to him again.

“Do you need help getting up?” you ask. He shakes his head but you throw his arm over your shoulder anyway, pulling him to his feet. He’s heavy but at least somewhat steady with your help. “God, Buck.”

“”S all muscle.”

“I know,” you assure amusedly.

The walk only lasts a couple of seconds before Bucky begins to sway. You try your best to hold him up, but are forced to slump into a couch with him when the top of your left knee bumps into one. Instead of helping, Bucky clamps his fingers around your wrists when you move to get up. He’s staring again.

“What?”

“Y’came to pick me up,” he says, as if just realizing it. “All the way here.”

“Of course. I gotta get you home, baby.”

He grasps your hand. “Baby,” he repeats favorably.

You don’t usually call him that, and even in his drunken stupor, he realizes it.

“What’s the time?” he demands suddenly.

“Three? Four?” you assume, preoccupied with sitting up. He’s distracted enough to sit by as you stand, knees bumping into his. “Very late. Or, early, I suppose.”

He inhales deeply, staring up at you with his lovely eyes.

“What’s wrong?” you query immediately, voice dropping to a softer pitch.

“You came for me,” he echoes.

“I did,” you agree patiently. “Wanna stand up so we can get home?”

“I love you.” It’s the most sober he’s sounded.

“I love you too,” you assure, dipping down to hold his jaw between your fingers. A demuring thumb swipes across his cheek. “You know that.”

“I do,” he whispers.

You smile, squeezing him lovingly between your palms, nebulously elated that he knows he’s loved. “Up,” you murmur, pulling on him until he’s just above hovering over the couch.

“Marry me,” he blurts, as if it’s been on the tip of his tongue, words carved earnestly and permanently; overdue.

You smile at him, focused on bringing and keeping him on his feet. Once he is, you take small steps toward the door. “Maybe later.”

“Y’promise?” he’s your hazy eyes when you’re focused entirely on him, cupping the sharp point of a chair before you can bump into it. Clumsily, he pulls open the door, wanting to wait until you’re out first but you don’t let him.

“I do,” you respond as you guide him to your car, helping him crawl in and looping an index around his seatbelt. His fingers interrupt you before the buckle has grazed further than his chest. “Bucky?”

He extends his pinky and stares at you pointedly.

Complying, you curve your pinky around his.

He’s satisfied, letting you buckle him in and watching as you round the car to your seat.

“Thor should come more.”

“We’ll see,” you laugh, starting the engine.

He pulls at the arm nearest to him before you can begin driving, extending his fingers out expectantly. It’s familiar but strange to see from the driver’s perspective. Still, you obey.

“I’m hungry,” he declares, settling in as you drive. “Can we get pizza?”

“Maybe later.”

missing bruno hours

Put in the tags please if you answered yes lets have fun with this

For example my childhood dog was named Cher after the singer and yes she had a brother named Sunny

bro 😭

POV: Steve and Bucky trying to put together IKEA furniture and Stevie pissed Buck off:

keep coming back because these are just so cute </3

baby blue- b. barnes

pairings: bucky barnes x reader, tony stark bruce banner, steve rogers, sam wilson warnings: child bucky, language, this is long. why is this so long about: requested by @cherry-season (apparently can't tag you)! bucky turns into a baby/toddler and is clingy a/n: okay so i know virtually nothing about three-year-olds. can you tell? thank you so much for requesting!! I had so much fun writing this <333

[@tylard-blog1]

bucky’s day wasn’t particularly fantastic to begin with.

he was already exhausted when he woke up in the early lights of the morning, his nightmares had kept him up all night-- which you theorized was due to the mission the day before that took place in one of the same hydra bases bucky had been held in. you had frowned when you realized it the day of, turning your attention to bucky and making sure he was okay with it because if he wasn’t, you would make sure someone else took care of it. he had insisted it was fine, even though the next night proved him wrong. you had done what you could, running your fingers through his hair and humming lightly until you fell asleep and he refused to wake you up, resigning himself to a sleepless night.

his morning started with his flesh arm reaching out to feel your side of the bed, hoping to find your soft, warm skin to pull you closer, but instead being met with the unkind sheets that missed the gentleness of your body. he had frowned when he realized you had already left for a meeting with some important hotshot in space with carol (you couldn’t find a better excuse to go get breakfast at your favorite alien restaurant with your favorite aliens) and wouldn’t be back for a solid few hours too long. groaning, and with no real reason to stay in bed for any longer without the excuse of getting to feel you for a few more hours, he dragged himself out of bed.

it didn’t get much better from there, because he was greeted with the sight of sam eating the last bowl of the last box of cereal in the whole damn tower because everyone rejected to go grocery shopping. since bucky refused to eat any of the frozen breakfasts tony loved so much and the stark kid swore were “the best thing ever,” he grunted at sam and walked away without eating, knowing he’d regret it later when his stomach would growl and you would immediately know he skipped breakfast.

for some unknown reason, tony had found out about bucky’s lack of things to do, and with a few winks and manipulative large-worded engineering phrases, convinced him to join him in the lab, which bucky had only really been able to see through the clear glass that separated the lab from the rest of the tower, and from the occasions where he would take food and drinks to you while you locked yourself away inside, building something alongside tony.

being inside, so close to the various machines and objects bucky cant begin to figure out the purpose of, his memories of being in school and at the top of his math and engineering classes bubble to the surface, filling him with the pride he remembers having every day at school. the thought that he could probably understand everything if you or tony explained it to him passes through his mind and urges him to ask tony to do just that, but tony beats him before he can get the chance.

bruce is eyeing them wearily from the other side of the lab, attention mostly on the test tubes in front of him. he gives bucky a smile when he comes in, but seems to ignore him for the most part until tony shows bucky to bruce’s work station, pointing out a blue liquid in a test tube marked TESTING. bruce’s neck snaps to them when tony open his big mouth, “you know, y/n was actually supposed to test something out for me today,” tony begins innocently, a suggestion laced in his words that bucky catches but decides to ignore because of the high he feels from understanding the equations scribbled on the clear glass, “do you know where she is?”

bucky narrows his eyes at him, then looks up at the clock, realizing it’s still a while before you get back, “not even on earth,” he recipes blandly, slyly sneaking a glance at the liquid for any indications of what it could be.

tony sighs dramatically, his shoulders sagging, “oh no, how do i test this now?” bruce shoots tony a warning glance that is blatantly ignored.

bucky’s shrugging before he can help it, the reminder that since you were going to do it, what could be the harm if he did? “i could do it.”

tony claps, “great!” he gestures to a door behind him, “please go in there to sign non-disclosure agreements and wash your hands.”

bucky’s shoved inside before he can fully understand the implications of his stupid offer.

-

the thought of asking the basic questions he should have asked before he agreed to test an unidentified liquid comes to bucky nearly an hour later, when the small vial of weird blue liquid sits in front of him, waiting to be drunk. tony and bruce sit in chairs a couple of feet away, clipboards in both of their hands, and interested expressions settled on their features.

“what does this do again?” he asks, squinting at the vial that he doesn’t notice tony isn’t looking at, furrowing his eyebrows when tony waves him off, “something super smart. no side effects or anything.” bucky’s eyes flit down to the little vial again, before they nearly bug out of his head at the humongous laser that is rolled into the room, “what the hell is that.”

“ah,” tony grins, bouncing from his seat to stand next to his invention proudly, “this is what you’re testing out.” bucky cocks his head at the man, “i thought i was drinking blue water. y/n was going to drink blue water.” tony shakes his head, adjusting some dials on the machine, “yeah, no, it was this. pretty sure i told you.”

“you didn’t-” bruce is looking at tony in concern, about to tell him to slow down so bucky has a chance to think all this through again and maybe ask if there is any chance the laser will melt him, when tony clicks a large red button and a bright white light clouds bucky’s vision just as he sees the clock on the exact same time he saw an hour ago, realizing the clock in the billion-dollar lab is broken, and you’re probably getting home any second.

“tony!” he hears bruce yell before his vision goes dark.

it’s only a second until he can pry open his eyes again, a hand curling into a fist, ready to pound stark into tomorrow when he can suddenly feel the nails of his hand digging into his palm. the surprising feeling of it where his vibranium arm should be forces him to look down at a small arm, fully skin and thin. he looks around, noticing his surroundings suddenly have grown very large around him, and the sound of his voice is higher when he tries to speak again.

“what the f-” he mumbles, cutting himself off when a sudden memory of his ma yelling at him to wash his mouth out if he wants to talk like that floods his mind, and he stares down at himself, eyebrows furrowing when he spots his short stature and the tiny hands and feet that look up at him. realization floods him like a wave, raising his chin at the two, tall, gobsmacked men in front of. “was that supposed to happen?” bruce asks quietly, nodding slowly when tony shakes his head, “no.”

there’s a light knock at the door, your hand pushing it open before anyone can stop you, and your tired face peeks in, a glowing smiling adorning your face and your eyes searching for your boyfriend, “hey, do you guys know where bucky is-” your voice cuts through the stunned silence, pausing when you catch the little boy’s eye. at first, you stare at him, your eyebrows pulling together as you get a good look at the familiar cerulean of his eyes and scan the clothing you’d seen on bucky before. for a second, everything is silent, bucky’s eyes are wide and staring as yours bore into them, searching for something you’re nearly touching until you gasp, “bucky?” you choke, reaching for him when he nods, his legs already trying to reach you as fast as they possibly can but they buckle. bucky realizes just then how old he must be now. “oh, baby,” you murmur, gathering him up in your arms before he can fall to the hard ground of the lab. “what the hell did you idiots do to my boyfriend?” you demand, turning to the two scientists who are going over tony’s notes.

bruce glances at tony, tilting his head at him as if to say him. you roll your eyes, not having any more information than when you asked, “tony?” you growl, walking over to the man, not missing the way little bucky’s hand grabs onto your shirt.

“it didn’t- that wasn’t supposed to happen,” tony defends weakly, a lazy shrug pulling at his shoulders. your eyes flash with velvet red, and, without moving a finger, tony’s pulled in front of you, wrapped in red swirls bucky can’t help but gawk at.

“fix it.” you order. tony nods, pursing his lips, “we’ll do that.” bruce looks a little taken aback, looking up from tony’s scribbles and equations. “i don’t think it’ll last more than a day,” he offers helpfully, “whatever it was tony was trying to do wasn’t either.”

bucky’s eyes start to droop, which he assumes is an effect of the sleepless night he just had on his infant body, something that usually wouldn’t affect him in his one-hundred-and-six-year-old self. he hums when he realizes the irony, leaning his head against the welcoming crook of your neck and catching your attention. you turn to him for a moment, softening a little before turning back to tony and glaring at him, “fix it.”

-

steve catches you when you walk out of the lab, his eyes nearly bugging out of his head when he spots the toddler in your arms, “holy shit, that looks exactly like bucky,” he breathes, scanning the dark mussed-up hair and stepping back when bucky opens his eyes. from next to him, sam looks from bucky to you, “did you two have a kid and not tell anyone, because this-”

“is bucky. that’s bucky.” you interrupt, looking at the toddler, “tony messed up with something and… this happened, i don’t completely… bucky’s a baby.”

steve raises an eyebrow, squinting at his best friend, “ha,” he laughs, “wow, he looks exactly like his pictures. he must be about three years old.” bucky blinks at him. “his ma said he was chatting up a storm at that age, though,” steve informs, looking back up at you. sam grins, “has he said anything? i kinda want to hear if he still sounds old.” bucky frowns at him, his pout deepening when sam bursts into laughter, “his grumpy face is the same!”

you look at your boyfriend, tilting your head and smiling a little when you realize he’s right, “you’re cute,” you coo now that you get a good look at him, “you’re so cute,” you murmur, poking his nose with your finger. bucky can’t help the blush that comes to his cheeks. but he slaps away sam’s fingers, scowling at him, “no.” he argues, “no.”

sam frowns, “no old man voice.”

“i hate you,” bucky says to sam, and you laugh, “i think we should leave for now. i need to figure out what will make three-year-old bucky not as grumpy.” sam looks at bucky’s furrowed brows and the same two little lines between them, his eyes flickering back up to yours, “i think that may just be a bucky thing.”

-

you bring bucky to the living room, sitting him down at the edge of the couch and crouching in front of him, watching him and his little crossed arms, bottom lip jutted out against his own will. bucky isn’t used to the emotional control of a child who’s three and can’t control the frustration that’s coursing through him at the moment. the only thing he knows for sure is that he doesn’t want you to leave him again.

“bucky?” you start, looking deep into the wide blue eyes that let you know it is bucky you’re speaking to. “what do you want to do? are you hungry? d’you want to sleep?” bucky shakes his head stubbornly at you, “i want tony to fix this.”

you sigh, “i know, baby. i do too, but until he finds a cure to this, you’re gonna stay small for a couple more hours.” he pouts at that, and you smooth your thumb over his cheek, “no pouting. we can do whatever you want, buck.”

just as he’s about to reject any idea you have, his stomach rumbles loudly, directing your attention to the arms that guiltily cover up his middle. “bucky... did you eat breakfast today?” you query, a lecturing tone sneaking into your words. “sam ate my cereal,” bucky grumbles, crossing his arms.

“bucky!” you exclaim, standing up to turn to the kitchen, “that’s no excuse. i told you you needed to eat--” you’re barely three steps into the kitchen when you hear the pattering of his feet towards you, grubby hands pawing at your legs.

“don’t leave,” he whines, hugging your ankles and sitting down on the floor, “you left all morning,” he mumbles, smushing his cheeks against your calf.

“i’m sorry,” you apologize, bending over to brush away the hair that falls over his eyes. “c’mere,” you murmur, reaching down to pick him up again and bounce him on your hip while you head to the kitchen. “what do you want to eat?” bucky thinks about it for a minute, before smiling, “i want pizza and ice cream.” you frown at him, “i don’t think three-year-olds can eat that. actually, i don’t think anyone should.”

after consulting google on what three-year-olds should eat, you have bucky’s head resting on your shoulder, refusing to let you put him down even as you made him the mac and cheese he had agreed to, still a little upset over the fact you wouldn’t let him eat all the other things he wanted. the only time he let you not carry him was when he was eating, still insisting you sit right next to him to watch as he smeared cheese all over tony’s expensive table.

“okay,” you whisper breathlessly after watching him eat his third bowl of the meal, “i think that’s good.” you shove the dirty dishes in the sink, washing bucky’s hands and wiping at him cheeks with a warm cloth to get the mess he managed to create off. “did you forget how to eat?” you wonder aloud when you finally fnish cleaning him up, watching his small shoulders shrug.

“what do you want to do now? anything you want,” you propose.

“i want you,” he says, reaching his stubby arms out, “cuddles. ‘m sleepy,” he yawns, making grabby hands at you when you take too long to pick him up. “bucky,” you chuckle, complying with him and bringing him into your chest, where he leans his head on your shoulder. “you sure you don’t want to play or something? you don’t want to…” you trail off, trying to think of what three-year-olds do, “walk or read or something?”

bucky grunts in your ear, his eyelids already closing again, “cuddles,” he repeats, balling your shirt up in his little hands.

“okay,” you sigh, bouncing him gently while you walk to your shared bedroom. you pick up a stuffed animal you brought for bucky from one of your most recent missions, “did you sleep last night? is that why you’re so tired?” bucky hums, cuddling further into your chest when you lay down with him on top of you. you hand him the little dog plush, pressing a kiss to his head when he takes the gift, hugging it with you. “honey, i’m sorry,” you frown, gently threading your fingers through his short hair, humming the same song bucky sings to you when you can’t get to sleep. it doesn’t take long to lull him into the calmness of rest.

you only wake up when the weight on you is suddenly multiplied, completely taking your breath away, “bucky!-” you exclaim, rolling from underneath him to meet his closed eyes. you shake your head with a light laugh, drawing a strand of hair behind his ear before you press your lips to his cheeks, snuggling in with him again, “sweet dreams, darling,” you murmur, placing the stuffed animal he dropped on your dresser.

Can you do a Bucky barnes x stark reader, preferably with an age gap. Like maybe they are trying to hide their relationship but somehow it got out.

dog tags

summary | bucky's prized possession is what exposes your relationship with him

pairing | bucky barnes x fem!stark!reader

warning | fluff, secret relationship, angst-ish

word count | 1.0k

“Buck.” You whispered, tilting your head back even farther, giving him more access to his neck. “Someone’s gonna catch us.”

As much as you didn’t want to be out in the open, you weren’t trying that hard to get him to remove himself from the crook of your neck. 

Letting out a quiet moan when Bucky sucked on your neck, gripping onto his hair tighter. 

“You say that babydoll,” He whispered into your ear, “your brain is saying one thing but your body is saying another.”

Finally being able to push him away, you kissed him one more time, your hands gripping onto his collar, your tongue gliding against his bottom lip, before pushing into his mouth. His tongue fought with yours, trying to gain the dominance, knowing it really wasn’t working. 

“Goodnight Mr. Barnes.” You whispered, starting to walk into your arm, your hand finally slipping from his.

“Goodnight Miss. Stark.”

-

Coming down for breakfast the next morning, woken up by the F.R.I.D.A.Y. for the third time this week, changing out of your pajamas and brushing your teeth before coming down.

“Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed again.” Sam snorted, seeing your face, your eyes droopy, sleep marks still present on your face.

“Shut up.” You muttered, your voice barely above a whisper. “How are you even awake?”

Sam just laughed, pouring you a cup of coffee, setting it down by your usual spot at the table. 

You ignored all the conversations around you, continuously drinking your coffee, hoping the caffeine would kick in at any minute now.

“Jesus, Y/n!” Hearing your name, you looked up to see your brother looking at you, his mouth wide open and eyes practically bulging out of their sockets, “Who attacked you?”

Confused, you looked dumbfounded at him. Seeing Natasha next to him, pointing towards your neck, you looked down, seeing some hickies left on your collarbone and assuming there were more on your neck. 

“Oh.” You sighed, giving a small smile, “Sorry, kind of got a little heated last night.”

The team thought you were going out with a guy you had met a few weeks ago at the coffee shop, something to steer them off the path of you and Bucky being together. 

Your relationship with him was going on 5 months now and you still hadn’t told the team. Neither of you weren’t in the mood for everyone to know and Bucky knew if the press heard about it, the two of you would plastered over the whole city in no time.

“I want to give you something.” You shifted yourself to sit up on your side, looking over at Bucky. Twisting to grab something off his nightstand before looking back at you. “I want you to wear them.

Resting them in your palm, you looked down at his dog tags. You remembered him telling you that was one of the only things that he kept before he was captured, and he kept it with him as a keep sack. 

“B,” You whispered, running your finger over the grooves of his name, “I can’t take these.”

“I want to have them.” Taking them he placed them over your head, letting them fall right between your collarbones. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

-

You stayed in the command room that was able to hold all signals whenever someone went on missions. 

It was Bucky’s first solo mission with the team and you were more than nervous. Your eyes looked at every screen, your finger fiddling with his dog tags. 

“How long?” You turned to see Steve, standing by the doorway, not knowing how long he was there. 

You just sighed, “6 months.”

Steve could tell the minute you left how on edge you were and seeing his dog tags confirmed it all. 

Walking towards you, Steve wrapped an arm around your shoulder, pulling you into his chest. “He’s okay, you know how he is, he’ll be back all fine.”

You just simply nodded, your hand still clutching onto his dog tags. Giving you another squeeze, Bucky left you to your own accords. 

The mission lasted for another two days, and when you saw that the Quinjet was getting closer and closer to New York, you made your way up to the tarmac. The rest of the team was already there when you arrived, seeing the Quinjet made its way through the clouds. 

Watching as the Quinjet landed, you were impatient waiting for him to come out. Watching as the landing strip opened, seeing Bucky walk down the steps, you couldn’t hold it in anymore. 

Looking up, Bucky saw you running up towards him, instantly wrapping your arms around him. Letting out a grunt, he wrapped an arm around your waist, lifting you slightly off the ground as he continued to walk towards the rest of the Avengers.

The rest of the team looked shocked at you, seeing you continue to hold onto Bucky.

“Uh, what is this?” Tony looked at the two of you, mostly you. 

“Surprise.” You whispered towards your brother, still stuck to Bucky’s side. “We’re together.”

“Why did you keep it a secret?”

“I knew.” Steve interjected. 

“We did too.” Clint gestured towards the rest of the team. You looked over at them confused, “You’re not that slick, and Tony was just too obsessed with himself to notice you and Barnes are together.”

You looked up at Bucky who was already looking down at you. 

“Missed you.” He whispered, leaning down to press a kiss onto your lips.  

“Gross!” You turned to see your brother looking like a teenage girl. “I know everyone knows I’m not Barnes’s best friend but if you hurt my little sister, I’ll personally send you to a living hell.”

“Of course Stark.” Bucky nodded. Pulling you with him, he took you back into his apartment. 

“Don’t have to hide anymore.” He whispered in your ear, tucking his head into your neck, pressing open-lip kisses all over. 

“Buck.” You whispered, threading your fingers through his hair before pulling him off you. “If I’m not on your bed in the next 30 seconds, I’m leaving.”

Letting out a gasp, seeing everything upside down and over Bucky’s shoulder as he carried you towards the bed, dropping you down like a sack of potatoes. 

Smiling, you removed his gear, pulling you closer towards him. 

“Good to have you back Sargeant.”

fin.

a rock star and a gentleman

pairing: rock star!bucky barnes x reader

summary: you just wanted to take your break from the club where you're working as a bartender, but you stumble on some guys arguing, only to realize they're the band playing that night. when the others leave and you're left alone with bucky barnes, you can't help but feel attracted to the charming rocker.

warnings: attraction at first sight, flirting, kissing, brock rumlow being a jerk, fluff and that's it i think?

word count: 3k

a/n: day 29 of my 30 day writing trope challenge was band / rockstar au, which uhhh i was dreading a little bit because i had so many ideas and i didn't know which one to write. i ended up with this one 🤷🏼‍♀️ which is a bit of a meet-cute i guess? hah idk. hope y'all enjoy it anyway!

-

You stepped outside the backdoor of the club where you worked, taking a deep breath of the garbage and sewer smell that always lingered in the New York alleyway, when shouting voices caught your attention. Heaving a beleaguered sigh—you were supposed to be on your break and the alley was off limits to anyone but employees—you turned to a group of four guys yelling at each other. 

“Hey!” you hollered, loud enough to get their attention. All four men paused and turned to you. They looked vaguely familiar but you couldn’t place them. “You can’t be here—get back in the club or fuck off,” you called to them, jerking a thumb over your shoulder at the door you’d just walked through.

The tallest of the men, with a white spray-painted ‘x’ on the front of his black t-shirt, gave you a smarmy grin, and flicked his hands dismissively at you. “Get outta here, girlie,” he ordered in a gravelly voice, throwing a grin over his shoulder at one of the other guys—a man with slicked back dark hair and a mean face. “This is a private conversation.”

Anger was like a shockwave pulsing through your body and you stepped further into the alley, planting your hands on your hips. You’d worked at the club for over a year, which was long enough to have met every kind of dipshit New York City had to offer—from those that were born and bred to transplants and tourists. So even though it was you against four men that were all taller and bigger than you, you didn’t back down. 

“I said get back in the club or fuck off, asshole,” you hissed, your scariest snarl fixed on your face. “If your tiny fucking brain can’t comprehend taking orders from a woman, I can get security out here—but then you’ll miss the band.” 

You knew you were being a little harsh, but the band your manager had booked was some big up and coming rock group that had a bad reputation for trying to bring back the 80s’ style of rock ’n roll—namely, drinking too much, taking too many drugs and fucking anything with tits. The crowd they’d attracted to the club that night had already pissed you off and they hadn’t even gone on yet. So the guys could blame the assholes you’d been serving at the bar all night for the fact that your patience had already been used up. 

When the guy laughed, it only made your anger spike higher and you suddenly knew this interaction wasn’t going to end well—whether for you or for him, you didn’t know yet. Before you knew what you were doing, your feet were charging toward the shithead, not caring what you’d do when you got your hands on him. Thankfully, one of the other guys, a handsome blond that looked like a high school jock all grown up, stepped between you and the asshole.

“Whoa,” the blond said, turning to give his friend a glare over his shoulder. “We don’t want any trouble, we’ll go back inside.”

“C’mon Stevie, move aside,” the first guy said, condescending amusement dancing in his hazel eyes. “I wanna see what girlie here was gonna do to me.” He ran a hand down his chest and over his belt, gripping himself through the front of his jeans. “If you wanted some, all you had to do was ask,” he taunted, cackling when you lunged at him.

The fourth guy, an obscenely attractive man with dark hair and bright blue eyes, caught you around the waist before you could get your hands on the dickwad taunting you. He hauled you away from the others before setting you back on your feet, though he kept you pinned against his chest, like he was afraid you might go after his friend again—which was smart because you absolutely would’ve.

“Shut the fuck up, Brock,” the man at your side spit at his friend. He was radiating anger of his own, and you had the sudden realization that, between the two of you, you could do some serious damage to the other guy. “You’re the reason we’re getting such a bad reputation—no one’s gonna book us if you keep pulling this shit!”

You managed to bite back your gasp of recognition before you made a fool of yourself, but only just barely. It finally clicked why the group looked familiar. The comment from the hot guy beside you and the names you’d heard gave you the clues you needed to identify them as the members of the band set to play at the club. They were called The White Wolves, if you remembered correctly from your research of them.

The blond—Steve Rogers—grabbed Brock Rumlow and the other guy, who you recalled was called Jack Rollins, by the scruffs of their necks and shoved them in the direction of the club’s backdoor. Steve tossed an apologetic smile your way and said, “Sorry, I’ll get them outta here.”

The door slammed shut with a metal clang and you were left alone with the last member of the band, Bucky Barnes, his arms still wrapped tightly around your waist, your arm pinned against his broad, muscular chest. There was a pleasant tension in the air, almost like a tangible connection between you two, though you weren’t sure if you were imagining it or if you were just too damn attracted to the rock star at your side.

The sounds of New York City were distant, blocked by the buildings that surrounded the small alleyway, but you were much too focused on your racing heart and the heat of Bucky’s chest to notice them anyway. It took you a long moment to realize there was no longer any reason for Bucky to be holding onto you and you looked up at him with a confused frown.

He seemed to realize the same thing at the same moment and let his arms drop. He didn’t take a step back, though, and you certainly weren’t going to move—he was the one that had grabbed you. Besides, you were standing so close to him that you could smell his cologne, something dark and spicy, and you didn’t want to move away just yet. You also didn’t want to analyze that thought too closely.

There was an awkward moment when Bucky introduced himself and you had to make a split-second decision about whether to tell him you already knew his name. You decided you didn’t. Instead, you just gave him yours and tried not to look like you were two seconds away from begging him to put his arms around you again.

“Sorry about them, doll,” Bucky muttered, shoving a hand into his dark hair like he was exasperated. He tilted his head back and blew out a harsh frustrated breath.

It was a cold enough night that the cloud of his warm breath hovered in the air, but your eyes were too focused on the tattoos that covered Bucky’s hands and neck. Inexplicably, you wanted to lick them. Blinking and shaking that thought from your head, you finally stepped back, immediately missing the warmth of being close to the six-foot rocker. You only wore black jeans and a black t-shirt, whereas he had on a leather jacket over his 80s metal band shirt.

“It was supposed to be a gimmick, y’know,” Bucky said, still staring up at the night sky. 

It was New York City, the stars weren’t visible, so you had no idea what he was looking at, but you took the opportunity to stare at him. The tattoos on his neck were a work of art, trailing down his throat and disappearing beneath his shirt. When you didn’t respond, he looked back at you. “What?” you asked, unsure what he was talking about.

“The whole destructive rock band thing, it was meant to be a gimmick, a brand,” he explained and you could hear the air quotes he put around that last word from the tone of his voice. “Brock and Jack let it go to their heads and now we’ll probably be left playing shitty dive bars and no name clubs for the rest of our lives.” Bucky collapsed against the brick wall of the building opposite the club, letting out another frustrated sigh. Then he seemed to remember himself, shooting you a wry grin. “No offense.”

You shrugged and shoved your hands in the back pocket of your jeans, trying not to look as cold as you felt. “None taken, it’s not my club—I just bartend here.” Bucky chuckled at that and you let your mouth curve in a smile. “It’s not fun, then—the drinking, the drugs, the girls?”

Bucky gave you a long look, his eyes drifting down to your mouth like he was distracted by its shape, and for a moment you didn’t think he was going to answer. “Sure, it was fun at first,” he admitted, shaking himself slightly and looking away down the alley, toward the corner where it hooked a right and led to the street. “But all that shit gets old fast, especially the groupies that hop from bunk to bunk like they’re just looking to collect the full set of us.” 

Before you could make a snarky response, a cold wind blew through the alleyway and a shiver wracked your body, making your teeth chatter. Bucky noticed and immediately pushed away from the wall, shrugging out of his leather jacket. He stepped close to you and swung it around your shoulders, helping you into the sleeves. It was warm from his body and smelled like him—it smelled so good, you had to stop yourself from burying your nose in the collar and taking a deep breath. 

“Thanks,” you murmured, looking up at him. He was somehow even more attractive up close, his blue eyes shining in the dim light of the alley, his soft mouth hooked up in a smirk, and his stubbled jaw just crying out for you to rake your nails through the coarse hair. Your gaze dropped to his neck tattoos and you found yourself wanting to press your lips against them, then trace the artwork with your tongue.

Bucky backed up toward the wall again, towing you with him, his hands gripping the lapels of his jacket. “You’re not a groupie, are ya, doll?” Bucky murmured in a deep voice that seemed to enter one ear and sink straight down to your core. 

“No,” you whispered, distracted by the sight of Bucky’s tattoos shifting on his throat as he spoke. But then you processed his words and looked back up to his face, almost getting lost in his heavy lidded blue eyes. “Not that there’s anything wrong with being a groupie,” you said, feeling the need to defend your fellow woman.

“No, nothing wrong with that,” Bucky agreed, his voice dropping even lower, a smile curling the edges of his mouth in a way that made you want to bite him. “That’s just not what I’m looking for right now.” He tugged you closer by his jacket and your hands came up to rest on the band t-shirt that was stretched across his broad chest. His muscles were firm beneath your touch and your fingers ached to explore him and see if he was firm all over.

Tilting your head to the side, you gave Bucky a sly questioning look. “And what exactly are you looking for, mister rock star?”

Bucky chuckled, the sound low and decadent and going straight to the apex of your thighs. Then he contorted his face into a mock thinking expression, even tapping a finger against his chin. “I’m looking for a feisty bartender with a ‘take no shit’ attitude,” he said, his gaze intent on your face in a way that made the rest of the world fall away. 

It was heady, the attraction simmering between you two, and unlike anything you’d ever felt before with any other man. It wasn’t love at first sight—it couldn’t be, you didn’t believe in that—but it could be chemistry, paired with the fact that it had been a while since your last partner. As you stared up into Bucky’s too-handsome face and leaned into his hard body, you somehow knew you were on a collision course with the rock star, and it felt exhilarating.

“Hmm, that sounds oddly specific,” you tried to joke, but your voice came out too breathless, your heart racing excitedly in your chest. “I don’t know if you’ll be able to find what you’re looking—”

Bucky didn’t let you finish your sentence, cutting you off by pressing his lips to yours. An electric current of pleasure crackled beneath your skin when your mouth collided with Bucky’s and you both moaned into the kiss. The buildup of tension in your body finally had an outlet and you kissed Bucky like you’d never get enough, and he was ravenous in return, devouring your lips. 

You didn’t make a habit of going around and kissing strange men in back alleys, but as you pressed closer and Bucky looped his arms around your waist, holding you firmly to him while he leaned against the wall, you couldn’t help but think there was something special about this rock star. After all, he seemed to know exactly how to kiss you to drive you wild, until you were gasping for air and still refusing to part from him. 

When Bucky finally eased away, allowing you room to breathe for a moment before he nipped at your lower lip one last time, you whined at the loss of him. You were slightly dizzy as you returned to yourself, feeling like something in the universe—or maybe just in you—had permanently shifted after being kissed senseless by Bucky Barnes.

“Wow,” you murmured, awe in your tone as you stared up into the rock star’s handsome face.

A somewhat goofy grin was on Bucky’s face and he could barely wrangle it under control long enough to drop another kiss on your lips. “Gonna wait for me after the show, doll?” he asked, eagerness in his tone. It struck a chord in your heart and you were relieved to know you weren’t the only one who felt the connection between you two.

“Uh huh,” you answered, still trying to regain full control of your brain. All you wanted was more of him, any way you could have it. Your gaze was fixated on Bucky’s mouth, though, and you heard yourself say, “More kisses.” 

With a chuckle, Bucky ducked his head and indulged you, kissing you until the backdoor of the club slammed open. You tried to jump away and put a respectable amount of distance between you and the rock star in case it was your boss, since you’d undoubtedly taken more than 15 minutes for your break. But Bucky’s arms were still hooked around your waist and he held you tight like he was reluctant to let you go.

“Don’t you knock, Stevie?” Bucky snarked to the newcomer. You relaxed, leaning back into Bucky since it wasn’t your boss. When you looked over your shoulder, sure enough it was the handsome blond from the band.

Pink tinged the man’s cheeks but he stood with his hands on his hips, and gave his friend an exasperated look. “Let’s go, Buck, we’re on soon—and I don’t need you pulling this shit, too.”

Again, you tried to move away, feeling a little shy about Bucky’s bandmate seeing you two together when you’d only just met both of them. Bucky let his arms drop and you stepped to the side, but when the cold night air replaced his warmth, your body trembled with another shiver. Bucky noticed and hooked a tattooed arm around the back of your neck, towing you over to the door.

“Don’t worry, Stevie,” Bucky said as he walked up to his friend, an easy grin on his face. “I have no plans to kiss anyone but this girl right here.”

Steve’s eyes widened with surprise and they flicked to you, giving you a longer look. He didn’t seem to be unhappy about the sight of you, which you took as a win. After a moment, he held out a hand. “I’m Steve,” he said. You gave him a tentative smile and your name as you shook his hand. “Sorry again about the other guys,” he said.

You shrugged beneath Bucky’s arm, a little thrill going through you when it didn’t dislodge him. No small part of you wanted him touching you at all times, but you tamped down that clingy urge. Still, you weren’t going to stop him from touching you. “No worries,” you said to Steve. “I’ve dealt with worse.”

Steve gave you a grim smile and then turned to open the door. Once you were all back inside the club, you tried to shrug out of Bucky’s jacket, but he turned you to face him and tugged it more firmly over your shoulders, giving you a warning look.

“Keep it,” he ordered in a half-yell over the din of the music playing in the club. He ducked his head so he could speak in your ear. “Give it to me after the show.” There was a dirty promise in his tone that made you shiver slightly, the tremble not even a little bit from cold.

“A rock star and a gentleman—how’d I get so lucky,” you teased, before you turned your head and captured his lips in a kiss. You sucked his lower lip into your mouth, making him groan and you pulled away with a grin.

There was a hungry look on Bucky’s face. “There’s nothing gentlemanly about the things I’m gonna do to you tonight, doll,” he promised, his filthy thoughts unmistakable in his raspy voice. 

You tried to bite your lip to hide your grin, but it escaped anyway, Bucky’s eyes devouring the expression. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw another bartender waving you over to the crowded bar, and you reached up, quickly planting a kiss on Bucky’s stubbled cheek. You left a grinning, slightly stunned Bucky Barnes behind as you headed back to work, calling over your shoulder, “See ya later, rock star.”

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