#ascwritingchallenge
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Blind Love: Part 1/2
Summary: When revealing true feelings for the one you love is too late and the only thing left behind is pain. (Best friends AU)
Pairing: Lance Tucker x Reader
Word Count: 2128
Warnings: Angst, heartache, language- verbal abusive relationship, cute fluff
A/N: Based on the song Love is Blindness (yes the title of the song and fic are similar fam 👌), this is part 1 of 2 for @asirenscalling writing challenge! Enjoy and hopefully I’ll have part 2 written up by the 20th or by the end of this month :’) Feedback is welcomed 💜
You’ve known Lance since middle school, riding the bus together and fooling around with things you weren’t supposed to in science class. You’d never forget the day when he saved you from face planting on the playground platform. Your shoelace had gotten caught under someone else’s foot, resulting in your downfall.
However, Lance caught the back of your shirt in time, yanking you up from gravity’s attempt to hurt you. Clinging to his arm for dear life, you remembered how scared you were to open your eyes, waiting for the impact. But it never happened, Lance made you sit down as he mimicked the recess overseer's nasal voice while petting your hair. When a giggled escaped your mouth, Lance pulled away and you opened your eyes to see his piercing blue one’s squinted in a warm smile. As if time stopped on purpose, you could’ve sworn your heart fluttered in your chest, doing 20 summersaults all in one go. Yet that moment was quickly taken away when your name left his lips, snapping you out from your trance. He was running away from you before looking back to shout out “you’re it!” Grinning, you ran after him in attempt to get him back.
But you forgot to tie your shoelace again.
As time went on, Lance wasn’t like the other kids, always striving for the best at a young age and getting what he wanted, even if that meant he had to work twice as hard. Determination was written in his DNA and so was competitiveness. Back then, popularity didn’t matter that much, only if your scooter went faster downhill and you bet your money that Lance’s scooter was the fastest on the block. He won every round and bought ice cream for everyone who participated. Thank Mrs. Miller down the street who paid Lance $10 every day just to walk her dogs.
Lance had your back and you had his. You two made an agreement if there was ever a problem that might jeopardize your friendship, you’d talk it out first before anything else happened. Luckily, that method helped a lot throughout the years of your friendship because the Tuckers didn’t make your bond any easy. They pushed and pushed Lance until he finally got the memo that he’s meant for more. Guiding him to gymnastics and taking away his free time to practice. He was taught that he had no weakness, that it was an illusion that pulled him back down to the ground rather than rising to the top. And his focus was in being the best all his life. You were split between Lance and what his parents wished for him, so you tried staying away as much as possible.
Nevertheless, Lance Tucker wasn’t going to let that happen, not in a million years. “What are best friends for then, Y/N?”
He stood by your side no matter what, was a shoulder to cry on, and a comfy cuddle buddy on movie nights. You were his wingman and so was him for you during college. After your careers started booming, you always made sure to see each other once a year or more if destiny allowed it. Love kept your relationship strong and nothing was going to tear it down. Nothing.
Even if that meant betraying the love gods because you couldn’t resist falling in love with Lance. There was a side you only knew and the world was given just a glimpse of how amazing that man is. It was as if he was afraid to share who he was, who the real Lance Tucker was. He was a different person around you, in comparison with others. Not once did you complain about his decision to keep certain things to himself, you wanted him happy despite it all. He was home and you were his heart.
“Did you send him the right address this time? I don’t need a whiny Lance walking through that door.” You laughed, placing the salad bowl on the dinner table before stepping away to look over the masterpiece you put together for tonight. “I want everything to go perfect, baby.”
“I did, would ya stop worrying? I told him it was a joke. Who knew he’d actually drive to the post office and think that’s where we live.” Joe says softly, kissing the side of your cheek. He wraps his arms around your mid and pulls your closer, earning a heartfelt giggle from you.
“Lance can be gullible. He’s probably got a lot on his mind with the new training he’s being put under. It’s like a whole other level of stress for him.” You sigh, leaning your head against your boyfriend’s chest.
“I’m sure Nicole is taking good care of Lance and being there for him. They’re like the cutest couple ever and still going strong after 3 years, Christ. I hope we get that long.”
Furrowing your brows together, you turn in Joe’s hold, playfully punching his arm. “Ow!”
“Are you having doubts about our relationship, mister?” You question, cocking your head to the side while crossing your arms. Your heart dropped to your stomach hearing that and you couldn’t give away that it did, taking Joe’s words in amusement.
Chuckling, Joe grabs your left hand, bringing the back to his lips as he kisses there gently, his emerald green eyes landing on the princess cut diamond ring on your finger. “Of course I don’t, future Mrs. Martinez. I’ll love you till the end of days.”
You couldn’t stop the blush from creeping on your cheeks as you bashfully pull your hand away and smirk, forgetting about before. “Good. Or else you’re asking for trouble.”
“You’re so cute.”
“And you’re so full of it.” You amuse, pecking his cheek. When you pull away, you notice you’ve forgotten to get the drinks from the basement and your guests would be there any moment. “Hey, can you get the beers from the fridge downstairs. I completely forgot to get them.”
“Yeah, I’ll get them. Don’t miss me too much!” Joe says, hurrying to the basement and disappearing down the stairs.
You met Joe in your freshman year of college, studying in the same science and health field but he was more for physical therapy and you in Nutrition and Wellness Studies. Lance was also studying the same thing as you which turned out for the better since his main career is to help train other Olympians and make sure they’re fed and physically trained right. You stayed in touch after college and fell for Joe overtime, deciding to pursue a relationship with him and knowing Lance wasn’t going to be with you. He never showed interest and liked girls that were the complete opposite; he had a certain type. You couldn’t mope around and wait for Lance to pick you. It was time to move on.
As much as your heart didn’t want to.
“You’re a fucking idiot. Why can’t you ever get anything right?” Nicole hisses, glaring out the window as Lance makes his way into the car.
“For the last time kitten, Joe gave me the wrong address. I should’ve paid more attention-”
“Well, no shit Sherlock.” Nicole spits, clipping in her seat belt. Lance shut his eyes, sighing deeply to calm his aggravated nerves, not wanting to have another argument with her. It was taking everything in him not to kick Nicole out the car and break up, but she’s all he’s got now. “I’m sorry, okay? Please don’t be upset with me. I can’t handle that right now.”
He was met silence, the lump in his throat making it difficult to breathe. Lance would do anything in the world to put his life on pause so he can figure out where things were going wrong. To the world, he had the perfect life: a hot girlfriend who “loved” him more than anything, a striving career that had a hefty paycheck, and a best friend who he can get lost in. Never craving to leave the pool he’s been sunk in. But he felt a gap missing and couldn’t quite understand what it was.
“Did you hear me?”
“Huh?” Lance jerks, gripping the steering wheel when the car comes to a stop. Looking to the left, Lance scans over the little white Ranch home with a purple porch swing on it’s right. “She actually got one.” Lance chuckles to himself, a gentle smile craving along his lips. He remembers the debate you two had about the odd little porch swing that soon became a reality. You said it was your personal touch and every house on the block would know that’s your home. Lance bet his money with Joe that you weren’t going to have that since it was antique-ish and you’d forget.
Yet you proved him wrong, like so many other times.
“Look,” Lance says, turning in his seat. “We can’t argue how we usually do and let’s try not to, okay? Y/N said this is an important dinner and I have a feeling they’re gonna tell us something big, so try to be civil with me, please?”
“Alright. Now let's go! I’m starving.” Nicole whines, throwing her head back. Lance chuckles again before leaning forward, pecking her lips. “Attagirl.”
When Lance arrived, you hopped off the kitchen counter and ran to the door, pulling it open to jump into his arms. “Oh my God, you’re here!”
“Hi to you too, spider monkey. Never gets old.” Lance laughs, catching you in his arms and walking in to admire your new home. “Holy shit, this is nice. Needs some work in the front but it’s do-able.”
“Excuse me? My house is perfect.” You argue, leaning back.
“It’s beautiful, Y/N. I love the porch swing.” Nicole says.
“Thank you! You see, I ain’t the only one who likes it.” You raise a brow to Joe who playfully rolls his eyes and nods.
“Yes, my love, you’re right. It’s an eye-catcher. Now, should we eat?”
Everything was going the way you planned it, noticing Lance and Nicole were smiling more than they usually did. You were glad things were getting better with them and hoped they’d stay together, knowing how much Nicole makes Lance happy. He was radiating, and this made you content.
“Alright, you two. Spill it. What’s the big news?” Lance says in mid-chew, eyeing you and Joe.
Snorting, you wipe your mouth with a napkin before setting it back down onto your lap. “You still haven’t figured it out?”
“Figured what out?” Lance hesitantly laughs, his browning knitting together and forming creases on his forehead. A knot begins to form in the pit of his stomach, giving him a not-so-good feeling about the next few words that are going to fly out of your mouth.
As if your nerves weren’t already wrecked, you prepare yourself again, taking slow steady breathes and taking Joe’s hand in yours, a bright grin casting your features. “We’re engaged!”
“Wh-what?” Lance stuttered, alarms going off in his head, his stomach coiling into itself.
Why did it feel like he was losing you when you’re right in front of him?
“Oh my god! When did this happen!?” Nicole squeals, scooting her seat closer towards the table to get a look at the ring that fitted perfectly around your finger. You excitingly bring your left hand in view, smiling brighter than the day Joe proposed. The twinkle in your eyes made it impossible for Lance to even look at it, bothered by the news.
“Isn’t it too early? I mean, it’s only been a year and a half. And you guys just moved in together…” Lance debates, clenching his fists underneath the table as his eyes lands on yours. He sees you look down, pulling your hand back, your lips forming into a pout. He didn’t mean to sound harsh but couldn’t hold back.
An awkward minute passes by and Joe begins to bounce his leg. “Yeah, but I love Y/N and she loves me. We’ve known each other for more than a year and a half and that doesn’t change anything. I’d be marrying my best friend.” Joe says, placing a hand on your thigh.
You look up at Lance, watching his jaw clench. You already knew he was starting to get jealous and didn’t want the two to argue over something so little.
“One of your best friends, honey.” You giggle, trying to make the atmosphere less uncomfortable.
“No, I get it. But being friends and being each other’s partners are two different things, Martinez.” Lance states, leaning back in his seat as he grabs his beer, taking a full swig of it.
“Lance,” You whisper loud enough for everyone to hear and look up.
“I’m pregnant.”
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(tag list is open)
#lance tucker x reader#lance tucker x reader fic#lance tucker x reader angst#lance tucker fic#lance tucker angst#lance tucker the bronze#angst#Sebastian Stan#sebastian stan fic#ascwritingchallenge
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Whiskey Lullaby
Pairings: Bucky x Reader
Warnings: Suicide, angst, more suicide, fluff
Word Count: 1,056
A/N: Bassed on the song ‘Whiskey Lullaby’ by Brad Paisley and Alison Krauss for @asirenscalling‘s writing challenge. (Congrats again, boo!!!)
~~~~~~~~~~~~
“I can’t do this anymore!” You screamed as you stood on one side of the living room facing your husband. “I can’t…”
“Baby, please don’t do this.” Bucky pleaded as he glanced down at the suitcases you had packed for him by the front door. “Please, baby…”
“Don’t ‘baby’ me, James Buchanan!” You screeched as you pointed your finger accusingly at him. “I will not sit here and let you take all your anger and frustration on me anymore. All you do is pick fights when you get off work! I get it, you hate everything since you came back from Iraq. But that doesn’t mean you can take it out on me.” Tears flowed down your cheeks as you shook your head and ran your fingers through your hair. You gripped the locks tight before throwing your hands out to the side. “I’m supposed to be your wife, damn it! Not your verbal punching bag!”
“(Y/N), I promise. I’ll change…” You shook your head once more as you pointed to the door.
“I can’t hear your false promises anymore. Just get out.”
“Doll, don’t do this!” He begged as he took a step toward you.
“Get out!” You roared as you crouched down in your spot. Sobs wracked your body as you shook your head some more. “Get out! Get out!” Your whole body quaked as Bucky slowly walked over and grabbed his bags.
“I’m sorry.” He whispered, his voice thick with his tears. “I’m so sorry, baby.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“He’s been here every night.” Sam said as he glanced over at your husband who was passed out on the far side of the bar with a nearly empty glass of whiskey in his hand. “He drinks until he passes out…”
“You should have called Steve.” You sighed as you ran your hand through your hair. “I can’t handle this anymore.”
“(Y/N), he needs to go home.” Sam said as he looked back over at you. You shook your head as you pulled out your wallet to cover Bucky’s tab once again.
“Not until he gets help, Sam. He needs help and I can’t give it to him.” With one final glance at the man you loved, you turned on your heel and walked out of the bar like you had every night for the past six months. You forced yourself not to turn around as tears fell softly on your cheeks and with a heavy heart, you got in your car to head home.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Mrs. Barnes?” You nodded at the police officer, Chief Barton, who was standing on your front porch as you pulled the door to your house open a bit more. He gave you a weak smile as he took a deep breath. “Ma’am… we need you to come down to the station…” You sighed and ran your hand through your hair in annoyance.
“Damn it… what did he do this time?” You looked back up at the man, who you felt like you talked to at least twice a week this past year, who shook his head.
“Mrs. Barnes… I’m so sorry…” Your stomach turned violently as you looked at the remorseful face in front of you. You shook your head and gripped the door frame tightly.
“No… fuck, no, no, no.” Your heart beat began to pound in your ears as Clint reached out to grab your shoulder so you wouldn’t fall over.
“I’m sorry, (Y/N).”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Numb. It was the only thing you could feel as you watched your husband’s coffin being lowered into the ground. You could feel Steve and Natasha’s eyes boring holes into the side of your face, silently blaming you for Bucky’s suicide. Hell, you even blamed yourself but you couldn’t let yourself recount the ‘what ifs’ in your head any longer. Instead you choose to stay numb at the hands of the same brown liquor that brought him to his grave.
Your finger ran, absentmindedly along the edge of the tear stained piece of paper that carried the weight of the love of your life’s last thoughts. Apologies that were never given the chance to be heard and the promise of ever lasting love. Tears welled in your eyes as you turned and walked away from the giant willow tree in your back yard toward your house. You barely heard Pietro, one of Bucky’s best friends call your name as he consoled his twin sister and your best friend, Wanda and you chose to ignore him as you climbed up the stairs.
Your hand wrapped around the bottle of Jack that you had left on the porch and you took a long pull as you kicked the door closed behind you. You shut out the world as you headed mechanically down the hall to the bedroom that your husband would never come home to again.
Swig after swig, drop after drop, you finished the umpteenth bottle of Jack as you rifled through Bucky’s old boxes in his closet until you found what you were looking for. The empty liquor bottle fell from your hands, shattering in to pieces and you stumbled through the sharp shards over to your bed. With a quick glance to ensure your efforts wouldn’t be fruitless, you grabbed the photo off his bedside table.
“I’m so sorry baby.” You whispered as you pressed your lips to the glass. “I’m sorry.” Without hesitating, your pressed the barrel of Bucky’s .45 to your temple and pulled the trigger.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“(Y/N).” You turned in your spot under the warm sunlight toward the sound of his voice, a voice you never though your hear again. A smile spread across your face as the love of your life stepped out of the willow tree with a smile.
“You waited for me.” You whispered as you walked across the grass. He nodded his head as he cupped your jaw in his hand.
“I couldn’t leave without my heart.” You smiled and leaned into his touch as a bright white light seemed to appear behind his back. He reached forward with a smile and gently took your hand with his other hand. “Let’s go home, my love.” He said softly as you laced your fingers with his. You nodded at him as you squeezed his hand.
“I’ll go anywhere you want me too, James. Always.”
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Iris
Summary: Bucky wonders how in the world he ended up so lucky.
Pairing: Bucky x Reader(Bucky’s POV)
Word Count: 1,961
A/N: Hey all! This is my submission for @asirenscalling‘s writing challenge! My song was Iris by The Goo Goo Dolls! I decided to write this from Bucky’s point of view, because I thought it would have more of an impact this way and I think this song relates to him so well! I hope you enjoy it!
And I'd give up forever to touch you, cause I know that you feel me somehow
You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be, And I don't want to go home right now
For as long as I can remember I’ve felt lost. Which if you think about it, it isn’t that long because my brain hardly can remember what I did a year ago. Ever since Hydra made me their puppet I’ve been recovering what little is left of me and even with the technology that Tony had to offer, I still felt empty. Until her. Y/N was the love of my life. I never thought I would find someone to love me like she does. I never want to leave her arms.
I would give up everything just to be next to her, to hear her voice, I know I don’t deserve her, but I’m sure happy that I have her.
“Bucky? Sweetheart, what are you staring at?” She asks me. The glow of the sun surrounds her as she opens the curtains, she looks like a goddess.
“I was just admiring you, I’m sorry.” I felt the need to apologize whenever I felt like I inconvenienced her, even if it wasn’t really necessary.
She smiles at me. “You’re so cute.” She moves her hand down my hair and to my cheek.
I blush. “I don’t understand you.”
“What do you mean Sarge?” She sits down on my lap and wraps her arms around my neck.
I sigh. I never want to explain this to her, but I always do this, she sees right through me. “I just, I always wonder why you are with me.”
“James, you’re more than just what Hydra made you, you’re amazing and I just think someone like you deserves all the love in the world.” Y/n leans in and kisses me.
And all I can taste is this moment, And all I can breathe is your life
When sooner or later it's over, I just don't wanna miss you tonight
She tastes like coconut and banana, her favorite morning smoothie. She's on a health kick again, I don't know why, she's so gorgeous. I never want to stop kissing her, because it's always so mind blowing how she makes me feel like there's nothing wrong. Like everything else around us fades and it's only me and her. But sadly like all wonderful moments, this one ends.
“I'm going to be late for work.” She sighs and gets off my lap. “Tony wants to have a meeting about finances again.”
I sigh heavily and let go of her hand. “I suppose that means I have to go too.”
“You have that overnight mission tonight don't you?”
It was true, another long night was ahead of me. I promised Steve that I would go on this mission with him and it was going to take an overnight flight to get there. I really wish I would have said no. Whenever I leave Y/N I don’t sleep well. Usually not at all. Before her I had nightmares constantly keeping me awake screaming. ��Now it was only on the occasional night, and it wasn’t nearly as bad. Without her laying next to me I was afraid to close my eyes. Afraid that if I do everything will come flooding back. “I wish I didn’t, I don’t want to miss you tonight.”
“Buck.” She puts her hands on both of my cheeks, the softness of her skin putting me in a trance. I smile and lean into one of her hands. “I know that this is hard for you, it’s hard for me too, I miss you so much when you’re gone, but this is your job, you have to save the world.” She smiles that beautiful smile and I forget everything again.
“I love you so much doll.” I kiss her softly, pulling her in gently with my metal arm.
“I love you too Sarge, now come on, go get ready for your mission, I promise it’ll fly by.”
And I don’t want the world to see me, cause I don’t think that they’d understand
When everything’s made to be broken, I just want you to know who I am
I know it’s bad for me, but I can’t help but think about the past when I’ve got nothing to keep my mind occupied. When I first came out of cryosleep after Steve had rescued me I was so scared to even be around anyone because I was afraid I would hurt someone. All I could think was that I was going to become the Winter Soldier again, that they were going to steal my memories from me again. It was hard to adjust to this new world, a world where people were trying to help me and not hurt me.
It was when she spoke to me that I knew she wasn’t afraid of me. Her voice was smooth like honey, soft like freshly cut grass. “Sergeant Barnes?” She looked at me as if she were looking at a small puppy, with soft eyes and an open heart.
“I’m sorry.” Was all I replied.
She laughed slightly, more of a soft chuckle really. “No need to be sorry Sergeant, you just looked like you were lost, I wanted to make sure that you were okay.”
I ran my hand through my hair, my face turning red with embarrassment. “I was supposed to be looking for the training room, but I’m not sure where it is, Steve wasn’t exactly explicit with the directions.”
“I can take you there Mr. Barnes.” She said to me.
“Bucky.”
“Of course, my name is Y/n, nice to meet you Bucky.”
And that is when I fell in love with her. But I was scared. Terrified that I was being an idiot for falling for her. That she could never love a monster like me, but I’m so glad that I was wrong. All I wanted was for someone to understand me, someone to see me as the man I was before the Winter Soldier and she did exactly that and more.
And you can’t fight the tears that ain’t comin’, or the moment of truth in your lies,
When everything feels like the movies, you bleed just to know you’re alive.
I never felt like I truly belonged here, as an avenger. It was hard for me to fit in. I threw myself into the work, being reckless even when Steve told me not to. Everything felt so wrong, I had to have a reason to believe that I belonged, a reason to know that I was meant to be alive. For some reason I never cried. I sat on the edge of my bed most nights after, waiting for the tears to come, but they never did. I just sat there staring at the wall thinking about all the people I killed, all the blood on my hands. Then when I fell asleep the nightmares would come. I tried to lie and tell myself things were getting better, but I never truly believed myself, until they did.
Y/n was a big reason I got out of bed everyday. She would take me on walks, tell me about how the world changed since the 40s. She showed me all sorts of new things. And it made me fall even more in love with her. I wanted to be with her constantly and when I wasn’t with her, I talked about her.
“Why don’t you just tell her how you feel?” Steve asked me.
I shook my head as if the pure idea of telling her that I was in love with her was insane. “She could never feel the same about me Steve, I’m broken, I can’t let her take the burden of my pain.”
“Have you ever considered the fact that she might want to help you with that burden?” Steve raised his eyebrow and then patted me on the shoulder. “I know this is hard Buck, but she wouldn’t just be hanging around you all the time if she didn’t want to.”
I sighed. Truth was I believed him a little bit. Why would she want to be around me so much? Did she feel sorry for me or was she truly trying to help me through the pain, to help me heal? But I was too scared to find out the truth. So I didn’t pursue it.
That night my nightmares were some of the worst I ever had. Kill after kill, I witness myself murder innocent people, their families and then there she was. The alleyway was dark but I knew it was her standing there. She wore a long trench coat and a winter hat, snow fell around her. Her face was full of fear. “Bucky please don’t do this.”
I looked down at myself in my Winter Soldier gear and then back up to her, I raised my gun, my arm shaking. It was like my mind was torn in half, one half screaming not to kill her, the other ordering me to put her down. I tried to fight it, but the evil half of me was too strong and I pulled the trigger.
I woke up in a terror of cold sweat, my breathing ragged, my mind seeming not to be in full control of my body.
“Bucky are you alright?” Her voice called out to me, it was muffled in my ears. I felt her fingertips brush over my shoulder softly.
Without control my metal hand sprung to grab hers and push her onto the bed, hovering over her like an angry dog about to bite at its prey. She didn’t scream, her eyes met mine calmly and she spoke with almost no panic in her voice.
“Bucky, I need you to look at me, whatever you were dreaming about isn’t real. You are real. James Buchanan Barnes. Bucky. I’m real, just close your eyes and feel my heartbeat.” She reached out for my flesh hand and carefully placed it on her chest. “I know you’re scared, I know that it hurts, but you have to listen to me, Hydra doesn’t have control of you anymore, Bucky, you’re free.”
I close my eyes as her heart bangs against her chest and vibrates through me. I can’t believe how slow her heart rate is. She really isn’t afraid of me. My metal hand lets go of her and my eyes open, bringing me out of my trance. I breath heavily as I lean back on the headboard. “God, y/n I’m so sorry.”
She sits up and grabs my metal hand, taking me by surprise. “It’s okay.”
“Why weren’t you afraid of me?”
She tilts her head to the side and thinks for a moment. “Bucky you’re nothing to be afraid of. You did some bad things, but you weren’t yourself, no one should blame you for that and you shouldn’t think that you’re a monster. Whatever you did in the past, it doesn’t matter, right now, right here, to me you’re a hero.”
I look at her, her beautiful sea green eyes locked onto mine. For a moment it feels like everything melts away, like there is nothing in the world but her and I. No Winter Soldier, no Hydra, nothing. I don’t know what I’m thinking, but I lean in and press my lips to hers and to my surprise she welcomes me. Her lips are so soft, I’ve never felt so safe.
That day changed my life, she is the reason why I keep going, why I keep fighting, and why I am the person that I am. A better person, a changed person.
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Broken
Summary: AU. There’s something about a painting that you just can’t shake.
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!reader
Word Count: 2,742
Warnings: language, bad art references, mean people suck, cheesiness, i needed fluff okay?
A/N: This is my (super late - sorry!) submission for Carley ( @asirenscalling) first writing challenge. My prompt was the song “Broken” by lovelytheband which I had never heard before taking this challenge and now I hear it all the time. PS I don’t know anything about art but I know lots about loneliness.
Your head tilted to the side a little, as if that would give you a better answer as to what the hell you were looking at.
You were at an exhibition that featured some of your friend Steve Rogers’ art, which was the only reason you even bothered showing up. Steve was a good friend and you were happy to support him even if crowds weren’t your thing.
There were so many people standing around holding overpriced glasses of champagne and rosé, so many people who looked like they fit in even as they walked right past the work of artists they never heard of. Their snobbery was polluting the atmosphere. That’s why you were sort of off by yourself, moving at a slower pace so that you could experience each section as an artist like Steve would have wanted.
The exhibition, entitled “An Emotional Life,” was supposed to represent the spectrum of human emotions, divided into sections which contained hand-selected contributions from several different artists.
You were standing in the section aptly titled ‘Confusion,’ staring at something that looked like a Jackson Pollock meets a paint-by-numbers, only even messier.
“Totally confusing. Well done,” you muttered, moving down the line to the next section, ‘Loneliness.’
The first few pieces were cliché…an empty room, a single tree in a wheat field…the typical visual representations of the word itself. They didn’t interest you; you knew scenes like that well enough in your daily life as a single person in an overpopulated city.
Loneliness and aloneness didn’t always go hand-in-hand for you, though. Sometimes you relished the solitude, the way that you could go about your free time however you pleased without having to consider someone else as you would in a relationship.
No, there were far worse situations that made you feel lonely.
There were times when you were excited about something but had no one to tell, no one who would listen and try to feel excited for you, too. Going to the airport usually brought a lonely feeling with it, because while everyone else had someone to see them off or greet them upon return, you were always traveling alone. Seeing other people hug goodbye or kiss hello sometimes left you with a pit at the bottom of your stomach.
That was the same feeling the next canvas gave you the second you laid eyes on it.
You could tell right away that it was one of Steve’s. The style was the same (not to mention the SR in the corner), and you were once again blown away by his talent.
The piece, titled ‘(Un)relatable,’ featured a man sitting on a subway car, his elbows resting on his knees with his hands clasped together in front of him. His head was down, but you could still see enough of his face to see he was handsome. He looked uncomfortable at best.
Why?
The people closest to him were turned away from him, one with a look of disgust and one with her own look of discomfort. Others were standing and holding on to the hand rail though there were open seats on either side of the man.
It took you a second to try to figure out why they were avoiding him. Your eyes scanned his face, his hair, his clothing…
That’s when you realized that he had a prosthetic arm. It was metal, but his long sleeve hid most of it well enough. The hand, though…his hand was obvious.
You took a step closer, squinting a little at the man’s features. His expression made your heart ache; it was pretty clear that this was why he looked so uncomfortable. Everyone knew loneliness, but you couldn’t fathom what it must be like to be him knowing that people could be that cruel.
“It’s a little exaggerated, but not as much as you might hope.”
You whirled around at the familiar voice and faced your friend, Steve Rogers, for the first time all night. “This is stunning, Steve. Your work is beautiful.”
“Thanks.” He gave you a smile. “Glad you could make it out. I know this isn’t your thing.”
“That man…who is he?” You turned back to the painting, eyes drawn to his face again.
Steve moved to stand beside you. He put his hands in his pockets with a soft sigh. “That’s my best pal, Bucky. As you can see there, he’s got a prosthesis. Not everyone is kind about it.”
“How did he feel about being a subject for your art?” you asked, side-eyeing Steve. “This seems pretty personal.”
He shrugged. “Buck’s a good guy, he didn’t mind too much. He just told me to not expect him to come see it here.”
Someone shouted for Steve, and he gave you an apologetic look. “Gotta go. I’ll see you soon, okay?”
“Sure,” you agreed, giving him a quick hug.
“Thanks again for coming!” He gave you another smile, then left you standing alone with his art once again.
Your eyes flitted back to the man on the subway.
---
The next few days went by without anything out of the ordinary happening. Work was the same, your home life was the same…the only thing that felt different now was you.
You had to see it again.
For some reason, you couldn’t get ‘(Un)relatable’ out of your brain. It was such an everyday scene; a subway car full of strangers who weren’t interacting was pretty common in New York. Maybe the discomfort the man felt was common, too.
But his face…there was something about him that was drawing you in and you couldn’t shake him.
You went back to the exhibit four days after opening night, feeling kind of uncertain as to what you expected to find when you saw the painting again.
There were a few college students standing around in front of the ‘Loneliness’ section. They were pointing to a few things in some other pieces, but none of them stayed in front of Steve’s painting for long. That gave you a chance to swoop in and stand in front of it, fully prepared to analyze it further. Maybe a second study would give you the closure you needed to stop thinking about it.
Instead, that ache returned to your chest. It was dumb, but you desperately wanted to step into the painting’s scene and sit beside Bucky. You wanted to glare at everyone around him and make them feel as small and uncomfortable as they had made Bucky feel.
You wanted to be lonely there with him.
The loneliness was seeping from his posture. It dulled his gaze and though laugh lines were painted around his eyes, there was no sign of a smile. Every detail, from the stitched eyebrows to the creases at his mouth, made you want to curl up beside him until he smiled again.
It may only be a painting, but the man in it was real, and he was out there somewhere feeling the same way you felt. You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t even notice when a man in a baseball cap moved closer to the painting for a better look.
“I’m sorry,” you said, stepping out of the way. You were hogging the painting when you should really be getting home. Nothing during this second viewing had changed how you felt about the piece. It might have actually made things worse.
“No problem,” the man said, his voice soft. He didn’t even look at you, and you didn’t get a good glance at him, either.
It was usually interesting to see someone else discover the painting, to see them digest the meaning and the feelings it provoked, but he offered no outward signs. Eventually, the man’s posture deflated, and he turned to leave.
He glanced over at you, eyes widening when he realized you were still standing there. He gave you a nod, then turned and quickly walked back to the exit.
Your heart was racing, though, because you recognized him almost immediately.
Bucky Barnes had shown up after all.
---
The guy at the front desk knew you by name now, that’s how many times you’d bought a ticket for the exhibition that week. That evening was the last time the exhibition would be up and running. They were going to shut it down to make room for a new one tomorrow.
Bucky hadn’t been to see the painting again, at least not while you were there. You began to wonder if you were showing up again and again for the painting or to maybe catch another glimpse of him, which was probably weird.
Okay, it was definitely weird. Bucky probably hadn’t expected to see someone there in front of his painting. He probably hadn’t expected to see someone staring at him when he turned around. If the situations were reversed, it would have made you exit the gallery immediately, too.
Yet there you were again, back in front of the painting. This time, you wanted to observe other people’s reactions to the art. Maybe it would give you a better sense of how he had felt that day on the subway.
First you saw an elderly couple approach, and the woman almost immediately made a face, tugging on her husband’s arm to get away from the painting of the ‘delinquent.’ How the hell she got that impression from the art, you had no idea, but it pissed you off. Didn’t she see the way the others were treating Bucky? Hadn’t she noticed the look in his eyes before passing judgment?
The next to approach were two teenage girls. “I still would,” the redhead declared with a giggle, as if Bucky’s prosthetic arm was what made his compatibility debatable. Her friend rolled her eyes, though she was laughing too. These girls clearly thought they were worthy of someone like Bucky, though their shallow behavior made your stomach turn a little. A prosthetic arm didn’t make someone less attractive, but their attitudes certainly made them so.
You looked away, staring at the painting until they finally left.
A third person approached in that short amount of time, but you didn’t bother to look up. What was another comment, really? You couldn’t handle more of the same, and it only made you feel worse for Bucky. He had to live this daily.
“Don’t.”
Your eyes flickered to your right, where Bucky Barnes was standing again, watching you.
Your anger and disgust from the previous visitors dissipated at the sight of him.
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t pity me,” he answered, nodding once at the painting. “Steve took artistic license with what he remembered from that day.”
“Oh.” You turned back to the painting. “Set the scene for me, then.”
Bucky sighed, shifting his weight on his feet a little, his hands still in his pockets. “We were on our way home. I was standing on the platform waiting for the train, and I forgot myself for a second.”
“Forgot yourself?” Your brows furrowed as you tried to picture it in your head. “What do you mean?”
“I took my hand out of my pocket,” he explained. “They all saw it, and chose not to sit beside me. I guess it’s weird, I don’t know. I don’t usually do that in public because it’s not…it doesn’t look like a real arm. But I liked it better when I had to pick one out.”
“What happened?” You looked over at him again. “Why did you…have to pick it out?”
The corner of his mouth lifted and his blue eyes met yours again. “What happened to my arm, you mean? It’s a long story.”
“Oh,” you said again. For some reason, you weren’t sure what to say to him without weirding him out further.
A stretch of silence passed with the two of you standing together, both unsure of what to say next.
“So anyway,” Bucky spoke up again, “don’t feel bad for me. They might not have been the most pleasant people, but it wasn’t as bad as it seemed.”
He was just about to turn and leave when you finally found the words you wanted to say.
“I don’t,” you countered, turning toward his retreating form. “I don’t feel bad for you, I feel…this is going to sound dumb, but I feel connected in a way. You sit there –” you gestured to the painting “- and you are surrounded by people every day on the subway, but for their own selfish and idiotic reasons, they don’t interact with you. You’re alone in a crowded place.”
Bucky didn’t say anything, just turned back to face you with interest on his features now.
You took that as a good sign to continue.
“I might not have the same reasons, but I feel that way all the time.” You looked away, moving closer to the painting. “You feel separated from the rest of the world. The part that hurts the most is your expression, the look in your eyes…Steve couldn’t possibly have made that up, it looks far too real. You look like life has just been beating you down so much that you’re…”
“Broken?” he supplied quietly.
Was that the word you had been looking for?
“Maybe, maybe not. What does that even mean? Who decides the level of loneliness that breaks you?”
“It’s personal.” Bucky shrugged. “I felt a little broken that day.”
“But you were with Steve, obviously. You spent the day with a friend.”
“If you know Steve, then you know what he’s like. Mr. Perfect couldn’t ever relate.”
“I thought loneliness was universal.”
He was about to reply, but a man in a green vest walked over to you both. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but the gallery is closing early for a private party. Please finish up your visit.”
As soon as he walked away again, you glanced at Bucky. “I guess that’s it, then.”
“Yeah.” He rubbed his chin. “I’m sorry, I didn’t even catch your name?”
“It’s Y/N,” you supplied, backing away slowly. “Thanks for the chat. I’ll…well maybe I’ll see you around sometime.”
Bucky moved in your direction, his hands still tucked in his pockets. “Do you want to, uh…maybe go get some coffee? We could keep debating our misery?”
There was something in his eyes this time, something hopeful, a spark of sweetness that wasn’t reflected in the painting. No, this was something new, something that your company had provoked.
This time, your smile was bright. “I’d like that.”
---
Steve opened his own art gallery later that year. Opening night just happened to fall on the sixth-month anniversary of your first coffee date with Bucky Barnes, so the two of you were going to stop by and show your support before going out to dinner.
When he spotted you, Steve made his way over to give you both a hug, then led you to his newest piece that was the center of this latest exhibition.
It was called ‘(Un)broken’ and it was your debut as a subject in a painting. In it, you and Bucky were sitting on the subway together, your arm entwined with his while you smiled at each other.
You already loved it.
Steve had given you the original painting of Bucky, the one that had brought the two of you together, as an anniversary gift, but he informed you first thing that he was keeping this new one to ‘brighten up his gallery.’
“What do you think?” Steve asked, unable to hide his smile as he watched you both for reactions.
“It’s amazing,” you told him sincerely, eyes bright. “Do I really look like that?”
“Happy?” Bucky asked. “Beautiful? Like you’re in love? Yes to all three.”
“Good.” You gave a nod at the painting, then looked back to Steve. “It’s amazing and accurate.”
Steve chuckled. “Glad you like it. What about you, Buck?”
“What’s not to like?” Bucky had a small smile on his face as he took in all the painting’s details. “It’s a vast improvement on the last one.”
“The painting or the subject?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. “Because I happen to love both paintings and their subject.”
Bucky’s smile widened as he looked at you, his blue eyes searching yours for a second.
You held his gaze, grinning when you felt his metallic hand reach for yours, intertwine your fingers, and give your hand a little squeeze.
“I love you, too,” he said simply.
---
#ascwritingchallenge#bucky barnes x reader#bucky x reader#jsb broken#jsb writing challenge submission#not even sure if this fic makes sense tbh
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