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marvelouslizzie · 6 months

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Why Are You Doing This To Me?

summary: Your ex-boyfriend Bucky Barnes wrote two songs about (for) you and you don’t know what to do.

pairing: Ex!Rockstar!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

warnings: Angst, a past failed relationship, pettiness, jealousy, anger, a lot of emotions, no mention of y/n.

word count: 2.3K

A/N: I have been away for a while because I was busy learning another language aka Dutch. I still am but at least I am done with my big exam. As soon as I was done with it, I found myself writing again.

This is a random idea that just popped into my head while listening to music and taking a walk. Pure angst for some reason. Usually, I go for smutty ideas but bear with me.

>> indicates incoming messages and << indicates outgoing messages in this story.

Thank you @notafunkiller for proofreading and editing this so fast ❤️

All work is mine, please do not repost or translate without my permission.

Keep reading tag starts after the second paragraph of the story.

>> Hey! I know you don’t want to hear anything about Bucky, but I think you should check these out. I think he wrote these songs for you.

Two links from Spotify follow the text you received from one of your best friends, and you stare for a while, trying to decide what to do. You really don’t want to hear his voice. Not because you don’t like his singing or his songs, but you wanted to get back on your feet. It would be impossible if you kept listening to his songs. Besides, hearing his voice has always softened you. And your best friend knows this. She knows a lot about your relationship, how everything went down, and how you two eventually broke up. If she didn't think you should listen to these songs, she wouldn't be sending you these links, right?

You take a deep breath and click on the first link. The song starts to play, and you notice the soft vibe right away. It’s not particularly Bucky’s style. He sounds like he’s in pain but he's singing with such clarity that surprises you.

He talks about how much he regrets the things he didn’t do when he was with you. How he misses you so much every day. How much he wants to call you, but he’s afraid that you won’t pick up the phone or worse, you will talk to him like a stranger. He says he always knew how precious you were, yet he took you for granted.

The lyrics flow flawlessly. It sounds like poetry to your ears. The way he expressed himself so beautifully… You can’t believe he wrote such a heartfelt song about you, and it’s not even his style. He’s a freaking rockstar. He usually writes about sex, rock and roll, and drugs. Not feelings. Then the song finally reaches the chorus and his words make you freeze.

“You are the love of my love.”

Did he really just say that? Did he just call you the love of his life? You feel this rush of emotions, and it’s hard to distinguish what you are actually feeling. It makes it harder to think, harder to focus on anything else other than the fact that this song is for you. That’s when you notice the name of the song. It’s the Love of My Life.

Suddenly, you start to feel angry. Every other emotion just takes a backseat. You hate him. So fucking much! Why is he always like this? Saying everything a little too late. Was it so hard for him to tell you this when you wanted to find just one reason to stay with him? You begged him to communicate with you maybe a million times. He always said it was not easy for him to put his feelings into words. Good or bad. It didn’t matter. He always struggled with his emotions. You tried your best. You tried to show him that he could trust you, that you would always be there for him, but it didn’t matter in the end. You felt like you were the only one trying to make this relationship work.

That’s when you decided to give up. It felt like he just didn’t care enough. He didn’t put any effort into changing things or making you feel like you weren’t just beating a dead horse.

You hoisted the white flag and moved on with your life. That’s when he decides to put whatever he feels into words. Instead of talking to you, he makes a song about it. Then he puts it out into the world.

What a fucking asshole!

It takes you a while to realize the song is over as the silence fills the room. As much as you hate how he chose to do this, the silence disturbs you. It might be a little too late, but you still want to hear what he has to say. Your own rules about not listening to any of his songs instantly go out the window.

You open the messaging app and click on the second link. This one sounds a little bit more like his usual style. The name of the song though, instantly catches your attention this time. It’s one of the nicknames he used often for you.

He starts the song by saying that he knows how selfish he is. That he has no right to feel this way, but he just saw you with someone else and he hated how it made him feel. He talks about how jealous he is. How he can’t help but imagine you in that guy’s arms. Then he realized you might call him baby, just like you used to call him. Then he continues by begging you not to call him baby, how he wants you to save that pet name for him even though he’s not in your life anymore.

There are so many details throughout the song that indicate he’s talking about you, there is no mistaking. He calls you by your nickname, saying how he loves the way you talk passionately about your interests, how compassionate you are, and how much effort you put into maintaining your relationship but he was too stupid and pathetic to appreciate them.

Every word that comes out of his mouth makes you even angrier. How dare he? How dare he write a song like this for you? After everything you have been through, after all the effort you put into your relationship, after every heartbreak… He realizes how much he values you just because he saw you with someone else.

Selfish bastard!

He has no right to put these words out there. He has no right to feel jealous. You are not his anymore. You can call someone else baby if that’s what you want. How dare he try to dictate to you like this? It makes you wanna call someone up and go out on another date and call him baby, just in spite.

The problem is, it’s just your stubborn nature talking. Before this song, you didn’t even think about calling someone else baby. You didn’t feel like it. Subconsciously, you were reserving that pet name for him. And that fucker knew it. He just knew it!

You exhale deeply, trying to calm yourself down. The song is over, but you can still hear him singing in your head. The song is so beautiful. Petty but so fucking beautiful. He sounds like he poured his heart out without caring how vulnerable it makes him look.

Another deep breath, you try to understand which date he is talking about. You have been on a couple of dates since you two broke up. You were so dedicated to moving on. You didn’t care if it would hurt him. Because he didn’t care about how much he hurt you all those times you tried your hardest to make things work. So you went out with a couple of gentlemen. Some of them were decent, and some of them were downright horrible. Dating is just as tedious as you remembered. A lot of assholes out there who don’t care who they are hurting. You didn’t get hurt, though. You didn't care enough about any of them to give them the power to hurt you.

Then it finally hits you. He’s talking about your date with that motherfucking movie star! That one was big news for a while. You got photographed two, maybe three times together.

You really looked like you were having fun in those photos. Truthfully, you were, he was such a funny guy. He knew how to make fun of himself. You were just so tired of pretentious asses. It was refreshing. That’s why you said yes to a second and a third date. Then he was off to a European country to shoot his next movie. You had a fun and it was more than enough for you.

You precisely remember that tabloids started to talk about how perfect you two were for each other. God, that must have gotten under his skin. You can’t help but laugh. He’s so predictable. He just couldn’t bear to see you with someone else, but can you blame him?

You remember seeing something similar about him, but in that case, he wasn’t on a date with the girl. They were just working together for some lame-ass project he would normally despise. Maybe he was trying to keep himself busy, who knows? You remember so vividly how she was looking at him like she wanted to eat him up. As if that wasn’t enough, she kept praising him, calling him the best rockstar of the century just to get in his pants. You have no idea if it worked or not, but it was enough to make you feel jealous. So can you blame him for feeling the same?

It just makes you realize you want to listen to those songs again. It’s maybe too little too late but you still want to hear him. You wanted him to talk about his feelings for such a long time and he’s finally doing it. Through a song but still, he’s doing it. It isn’t exactly communicating because communication must be two-sided, right? That’s what was missing in your relationship. You were talking, pleading, trying while he was keeping everything in. You feel like the roles are reversed. Now he’s the one talking, pleading, and trying, and you just don’t know what to do. How the tables have turned.

The second time around, you notice other details you missed the first time. Like peaceful walks you took together whenever you had the time or how you always used fake names when you two traveled together. You can’t help but miss those days. Even though you had problems, being with him always felt so safe and peaceful. You have no idea how he managed to make you feel that way. Maybe that’s why it took you so long to end the relationship. You still miss the way you felt back then. As if you two could overcome anything together, yet you couldn’t. Because you didn’t work together. You were alone, struggling to make him talk.

Then he talks about how he still speaks to your friends, and that makes him miss you even more. That part surprises you because none of your friends mentioned that they were still seeing Bucky. Is that because you didn’t let them ever talk about him? You feared if you let yourself talk or think about him, you would go back to the point zero.

He ends the song saying he doesn't want you to be a distant memory, and this sticks with you. Do you want him to be a distant memory?

The second time you listen, you notice how desperate he sounds. The way he pleads doesn’t anger you anymore. You find something you feel in his words. Your own fears, your own selfishness and oh, how much you miss him. You didn’t let yourself admit that you miss him. You thought acting like he never existed, he was never a part of your life would make everything easier and it did. Just for a while. Lately, it was just a burden. You tried so hard to keep everything inside. Just like he did. You are still trying to do it… to act logically, not emotionally. Does it mean you are making the same mistake he did? Shutting yourself down, not talking about your feelings. Is it the solution or is it a part of the mistake? You can’t tell anymore. You just know that your heart is aching. The sound of his voice makes you want to cry.

God, you hate him so much!

How could he do this to you after all this time?

Is it that easy to get under your skin or was he always there?

You feel like you are about to explode because of all the emotions you are going through. On one hand, Bucky communicating with you is everything you wanted. On the other hand, isn’t it too late? And why did he write not one but two songs about you? Declaring his love to the world…

You repeat that last bit in your head. He’s declaring his love to the world.

He’s no longer afraid to talk about his emotions. He wants you to hear them, millions of other people are just the bonus. He’s not afraid to show how fucking miserable he feels. He just wants you back.

He’s doing his bit in communicating, but unless you don’t do something about it, it won’t matter. It will be another attempt in vain. You aren’t sure if you want to repeat the same pattern. You notice the song is over when your phone chimes. It’s your best friend again.

>> Did you listen?

<< Yeah.

>> How are you feeling?

<< Confused.

<< Are you still talking to him?

>> Yeah we all are.

<< Why didn’t you tell me that?

>> You said you didn’t wanna hear anything about him and we just respected your decision.

Just like you thought. You can’t blame them. Anytime someone mentioned anything remotely related to Bucky, you either changed the subject or found a reason to leave. So you can’t help but wonder…

<< How is he doing?

>> Not great. He misses you.

<< I miss him too.

>> Are you gonna call him?

You look at the message for a long minute. Are you gonna call him? That’s the question. Maybe you should. Maybe you shouldn’t. Both of the options sound equally wrong. You have no idea what to do.

<< I don’t know what to do.

>> Just give him a call. He’s the love of your life.

You have no idea how long you have looked at that text. Maybe for a couple of minutes, maybe for an hour.

He’s the love of your life.

He’s a bastard, but he really is the love of your life.

And you are the love of his life.

Where do you go from here? You look at your phone once again. You finally know what to do.

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navybrat817 · 7 months

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Could you imagine, Rockstar!Bucky for a once not under the influence of anything during a show, only fueled by heartbreak because his girl finally had enough after the biggest argument yet. And usually, they fight and make up but she's avoiding him and the other guys girls and maybe even left the tour 🥺😭 But I cant figure out what the fight would have been about to have Bucky up there, pouring his heart out and his band looking on and not knowing what to do. And the fans confused but also loving the vibe 🥺🥺🥺

Look at him! If this is our White Wolf and Luna, I could see a fight happening because of a pregnancy scare. If he were to go down that path, it would be with you. But now? He's scared. You're both having fun and not quite ready for that, especially with him at the height of his career and loving the life he has. He isn't ready to give that up. Out of that fear, maybe he says something he shouldn't have. He regrets it, but expects you to come back after you throw the nearest object against the wall and storm out of his trailer.

You don't.

He'll see you after his show, right?

Not only do you not show, he notices your bag and some of your stuff is gone.

"What the fuck?"

He asks everyone where you went. No one saw you leave. When he tries to text you, they go unanswered. So do his calls. You haven't blocked him, so that has to be a good sign, right?

But you won't answer Steve or Nat's calls either. Bucky figures maybe they're too close to him, so he goes to Alice and Sunshine. No way would you ignore them. They've become like sisters to you.

Except you aren't responding to them either.

Bucky tries not to panic, but something in him breaks when he realizes you didn't take his favorite jacket with you. Were you cold? Did you miss him? Did you hate him?

Instead of turning to a bottle or anything else, he retreats in a bit on himself. The band, all of them, they're your family. And you're his Luna. His everything. How the hell is he supposed to pretend everything is okay when all he wants is you there?

How does he say he's sorry?

He wants your rage. Your passion. Yell at him. Tell him you hate him. He can take it. But your silence? You not being there? He can't handle that.

It's Alice who sends you the video of him on stage with the caption, "I don't know where you are, but we're worried. Just let us know you're okay, please."

It's a song he wrote for you, but it's tinged with sadness that everyone feels. You see worry cross the faces of the other band members when he closes his eyes and pour his everything into the music. He opens his eyes at the end and looks to the sky. You know he's looking at the moon.

Looking for his Luna.

"Come home."

You finally respond back with, "I'll be okay. I always am."

And you will be. You love Bucky and that'll never change. Maybe you'll call him in the morning. Or maybe he'll remember that secret spot you told him about and he'll find you there.

*****

Because who is the White Wolf without his Luna?

He doesn't want to find out.

Love and thanks! ❤️

#navybrat writes #bucky barnes #rocker!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #rocker!bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #rockstar!bucky barnes #white wolf and luna #the vip experience #cadencejames87 #sending love ❤️#asks are always appreciated #bucky barnes ficlet

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noctumbra · 2 years

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DISCLAIMER

─ almost all the works linked below are +18. please read the warnings before you read the fic. i won’t be accepting any accusations about the topic i wrote because you skipped the warnings. the fics linked below might include dark fics.

─ to get notified for fic updated only, turn on the notifications on for @cuddlewrites. i will be reblogging only the work i post on here.

─ i only write for bucky barnes, and rarely a couple other sebastian stan characters.

─ main masterlist

》 honey baby: ceo!bucky wants to have some fun during an online meeting.

》 kitten: dom!bucky reminds you your place.

》 bloody: bucky loves watching you carry his marks, so he gives you some.

》 angel face: some drunk shenanigans happen. the next day brings sober confessions with it.

》 unexpected relief: bucky writes a website’s name wrong, but he’s not unhappy with the results.

》 pleasure: daddy!bucky needs to relax, and you’re there to help him.

》 wicked tongue: you have a one night stand with a very handsome, older guy and you get surprised at the end.

》 what you need: you need money and your roommate is there to help you in every way.

》 intentional: alpha!bucky sends you a shirtless pic and then offers to spend your heat with him. feelings ensue.

》 abyss: hades!bucky falls in love with you in the first sight.

》 pour some sugar on me: rockstar!bucky sees you in the crowd and wants to get to know you. natasha helps him.

》 fade out: serialkiller!bucky thinks he was created to make wrongs right, and that’s exactly what he does to you.

》 pretty: bartender!bucky flirts with you, and you end up in an alley next to the bar he works in.

》 been like this: mob!bucky is possessive and makes sure you’re owned and bred.

》 i was made for lovin’ you: rockstar!bucky wants another baby, and you indulge him into his wish.

》 for your love: tfatws!bucky reminiscing his times with his soulmate. his family is there to support him.

》 the knowing: watching your soulmate have a life with someone other than you hurts way more than one can imagine.

》 vanilla: without knowing, you slept with your dad’s best friend who happened to be the best smelling alpha.

》 hush baby: crushing on your best friend and learning that he was crushing on you back had come with a package, and you couldn’t be happier and hornier.

》 let the feeling come take you: you come across to this rockstar at the bar and your life changes from there.

》 wildfire: you connect with a beautiful man on the beach, and things progress from there.

》 underworld: a demon finds you being lonely in his bar and decides that you need a good time.

》 red flags and long nights: three months isn’t long enough to get to know someone, especially if that person had different... tastes.

》 freak in the sheets: dilf!bucky is a flirts and he knows what he wants: you. thankfully, you want him back.

》 baby it’s you: omega!bucky has finally found his potential mate through beyoncé songs.

》 snatch my soul: ceo!nick finds a different way to make you forgive him about something that was not real.

》 supermodel: rockstar!bucky wants to make things right after his big fuck up in the past.

》 touch my soul from outside: dadsbestfriend!bucky knows exactly how to love on you.

》 i wanna be yours: rockstar!bucky loves and cherishes you to the point of annoying his best friend who happnes to be your brother.

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esotericgalaxy · 5 months

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Seeing these make me feral like shit baby let me bark for you 🥴🤪

#sebastian stan #pam and tommy #tommy lee #drummer #rockstar!bucky barnes #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes #james bucky buchanan barnes #marvel #bucky #catws

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boxofbonesfic · 1 year

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Title: ᴅᴇᴠɪʟ ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ ᴜꜱ [4]

Pairing: Rockstar!Bucky Barnes x Reader

series masterlist || series playlist || chapter song

Summary: Drowning in women and designer drugs, Bucky Barnes of Valkyrie’s Revenge is in a race to rock bottom. Fed up, his bandmates give him an ultimatum—straighten up, or fuck off. In a last, desperate bid to maintain his place, he agrees to return to the one place he swore he’d never set foot again—home.

Warnings: Angst, Drug Addiction, Mental Health issues, Toxicity, Recreational Drug use, Hard drug use, PTSD, Dealing with trauma, Slow Burn, Fluff, MINORS DNI, [More to be added]

A/N: another installment down! i’m really eager to hear what folks are thinking and feeling, so please don’t hesitate to hit my inbox with comments or questions! divider by @firefly-graphics

series playlist || chapter song

This work is entirely unbeta’d, and unedited. Though I don’t own any of Marvel’s characters, this work and the plot contained inside are entirely mine. I do not consent for this work to be posted anywhere else by anyone but me. Enjoy 😘

🎤

You don’t sleep until the sky starts to turn from deep purple to pink at the edges, waiting for your phone to ring, or the doorbell, or a fierce knock—but nothing comes. You begin to slip down into slumber as the dawn stretches bright fingers up the faded wallpaper of your bedroom, and your anxieties follow you in.

You’re in the car. Why are you in the car? The window is cool to the touch beneath your fingers—it’s winter. It was winter. Maybe here it always is. Someone squeezes your hand—Bucky, you know it without looking. You know him so well that even the guitar callouses on his fingertips are as known to you as the folded pages of your favorite book.

You stroke your thumb over the creases in his skin. They are the familiar lines of a map you have learned down to the letter—every scar recorded to memory.

Why are you in the car? Rebecca is there too, her face blurred in the mirror as she leans over to whisper something to Bucky’s mother. You can’t hear her, like she’s speaking from under water.

“You think you’ll ever come back here? When you get famous?” You know how this goes, you remember this part—

“When we get famous, you mean.” The world tilts on its head and suddenly you are standing in the rain on the shoulder of the road, staring at the smoking, twisted metal—

“Mommy?”

Your eyes are slow to open, like your body doesn’t actually want start moving again so soon after falling asleep. Iris is perched on the edge of your bed, her wide gray eyes searching your face.

“Hey, sweetheart. I’m sorry,” you sit up onto your elbows with a huff. “I didn’t mean to sleep so late.” You hadn’t slept at all, really, but your daughter doesn’t need to know that. “Were you up long without me?” She shakes her head.

“No.” She looks so much like Bucky as she cocks her head at you, her eyebrow lifting ever so slightly as she regards you. It’s almost laughable how many of his mannerisms she’s seems to have inherited despite never being around him, how much of him is in her.

Iris crawls up to the head of the bed and scoots underneath the blanket with a little sigh. You wrap your arms around your daughter, pressing a tired kiss to her forehead.

“You sleep okay? Any bad dreams?”

“No. I was a mermaid in my dream.” Iris replies seriously.

“Oh? Did you see anything cool down there under the ocean?” As she begins describing the intricacies of her subconscious, you start trying to ready yourself for the day. It’s Saturday—one of your only full days off. Generally, your off time consists of taking Iris to absorb what little culture Meridian and the surrounding counties have to offer, but today, you’re dragging.

You haven’t dreamed about the crash since after Iris was two, but you know you shouldn’t be surprised by it’s reoccurrence, not really. The past has a way of biting your ass when you least expect it, your grandmother had said that to you when you were young, and you found it still held true. First Bucky, then Steve—it had been bound to happen sooner or later.

You can’t stop thinking about it as you slide out of bed, only managing to half listen to Iris as she describes the flavor of kelp ice cream to you over freezer waffles.

Following Bucky back from the softball game, riding in Steve’s truck because Winnie’s tire blew out on her sedan—Bucky was going to go back and pick it up later with the spare from the garage.

Kissing him and telling him you’d see him at home, that you loved him.

Watching the drunk driver plow headfirst into Bucky’s truck.

Bucky pulling his mother and sister from the wreckage, and screaming, so much screaming—

“You’re sad today, mommy.” Your head snaps up, your fingers loosening on your fork in your shock. It clatters against the plate, but Iris doesn’t blink. “I can tell.”

So fucking much like her dad.

“I guess I am,” you say after a moment.

“Why?”

You’re not sure what to say—you certainly can’t tell her that you’re thinking about the crash. The one almost exactly a year before she was born. You can’t tell her that that’s when everything fell apart, when Declan Forge’s truck jumped the divider and slammed full speed into Bucky’s Dodge.

But you don’t want to lie to her either.

“Something… bad happened, just before I found out I was pregnant with you. There was an accident, and some people I was very close to passed away.” Iris knows what death is; you’ve never shied away from some of the harsher truths, but this one is still hard for you to stomach. Iris looks like she’s thinking hard, her little brows scrunched up as her nose wrinkles.

“I’m sorry you’re sad, mommy.” Your chest goes painfully tight when she places her little hand on your cheek. “You shouldn’t have to be sad.” There’s a simple, childish wisdom in her words that makes you want to protect her, keep Iris just like this forever—but the concern written in the lines of her little face tells you otherwise.

You wipe at your tear filled eyes, fixing Iris with a soft smile. “Thanks, kiddo.”

You bundle Iris into the shower as she talks a mile a minute. There’s barely enough time to answer one of her questions before she’s firing off others, each thought biting the tail of the next as they rush to get to her mouth.

“Are we going to the center today, mommy?” She asks as you towel her off. “Miss Kitty said there’s berry picking today.”

Truth be told, you don’t want to spend any more time at the community center than you have to, these days—especially now that Bucky practically lives there. You’re bound to run into him—Meridian is smaller than a goddamn speck—but you don’t want to do it more than you have to. If Steve is already noticing the uncanny likeness between your daughter and his best friend, you don’t want to add more opportunities for Bucky to do the same.

“Wouldn’t you rather go to the park?” You suggest, but Iris shakes her head. “Or maybe the library? Or we could go see—”

“Mommy, I want to see my friends at the center,” she whines, scuffing her foot against the bathroom tile. “Please?” You can’t deny her trembling lip and wide eyes, and you heave a sigh as you draw the wide toothed comb through her hair.

“Sure, sweetheart. We’ll go see your friends at the center.”

—

Steve’s house is better than the studio apartment Tony had rented in his name, Bucky’s grateful for that. Waking up from the withdrawal induced nightmares to stare at the creepy painting of cherubs by his bedside was driving him crazier than the cravings. And now, there’s more than one place to sit around all day parsing out what a piece of shit he is—there are options; the kitchen, the porch, the living room, the den; all laid out for his choosing pleasure.

Bucky is currently parked on the porch, smoking what he thinks is either his fifth or eighth cigarette of the morning—he can’t remember. He’d been up early enough to watch the sun rise over the old warehouses in the distance, stretching golden fingers through the streets until it passed beyond the dead-end cul-de-sac where Steve’s mother used to live.

He’d missed that funeral, too. Bucky tries to recall where he was when Sarah died, tried to dredge up the memories—but they’re too cloudy for him to sort through. What a good friend, he thinks sourly, shaking either his sixth or ninth cigarette loose from the carton. Don’t even remember when my best friend’s mom kicked the bucket.

“Hey.” Steve’s voice makes Bucky turn, squinting in the bright morning sun. “You’re up early.” Bucky appreciates that Steve doesn’t comment on the fact that Bucky’s always awake, knees trembling as he picks the cuticles on his hands down to the quick.

“Couldn’t sleep.”

Steve sits down beside him, shaking his head when Bucky offers him a cigarette. He’s not sure when Steve quit smoking, another memory lost to the shuffle.

“You going down to the center today?” Steve asks, and Bucky’s lip curls as he exhales smoke. He doesn’t much fancy going down there to wallow in self pity and regret. Easier just to do it here, where there isn’t anyone to ask him how he’s processing it all.

“If I said no would you make me go anyway?” He asks, and Steve actually laughs.

“Probably wouldn’t be too hard,” he replies with a chuckle. “You’re skinny as shit.”

When they get to the center, Kitty is already there and going strong. She gets an almost religious fervor about herself as she speaks, her eyes bright as her lips move impossibly quickly. It reminds Bucky of what it was like on stage, the crowd’s attention and devotion like a steady morphine drip. He wonders if that’s Kitty’s addiction—being the center of attention.

“We talked about rock bottom last meeting,” she says, clapping her hands. “Now I want to talk about moving up. I want to talk about moving forward.”

No forward for you, the demon mutters. Just under. Six feet, right?

“Obviously today’s session isn’t mandatory, but it’s still useful. We’re going to give back to our community today, the community that has held us through these tough times.” Bucky’s not sure which community she’s talking about, considering that most of the folks inhabiting Meridian are no better than rabid dogs, but he keeps that little thought to himself.

“There’s a local business in need of a little assistance, they’re short staffed this quarter, and we’re going to assist! Isn’t that wonderful?” Bucky wants to shake his head, but refrains from doing so—barely. “Raul’s Berry Farm, out north on 49.”

Great.

Kitty’s rented a van for today’s excursion, but Steve volunteers to drive him, which Bucky is thankful for. He’s not really sure how many more “uplifting” and “inspirational” stories he can handle. He gets back into Steve’s pickup, leaning his head back against the headrest. Steve pulls out into traffic, following the van. His fingers drum nervously against the wheel, tapping out an anxious rhythm Bucky’s not even sure he notices. Steve’s always been fidgety when he’s nervous, though, ever since they were little.

“What?” Bucky asks, and Steve turns to look at him like he has three heads. Bucky gestures at Steve’s fingers, tap-dancing across the dashboard. “What’s the problem?”

Steve shrugs. “Nothing.”

“You always were a shit liar.”

Steve scowls at him. “It’s nothing, Buck. Seriously.”

The berry farm is a Meridian institution, one of the local businesses that had been around since before the town was a town. Bucky doesn’t think that’s a particularly impressive resume, but he knows better than to mention it when he hops out of Steve’s pickup and down into the dusty parking lot. Kitty gestures for everyone to circle in, clapping her hands excitedly.

“Alright everyone. We’ve got some little helpers here today too,” she points at a short yellow school bus that Bucky assumes also came from the community center. “I think we all know how important it is in the process to make amends not only to ourselves but to our community!”

Can’t make amends to people who are dead though, can you?

Bucky picks up his five gallon bucket and starts down a line of blueberry bushes. He pops a few into his mouth, tart sweetness bursting over his tongue. He doesn’t wait for Kitty to deliver instructions—after all, how much directing could they possibly need to pick berries? The smell of the hot sun, the laughter of the children racing up and down the rows—it’s nostalgic. Bucky had been here many times himself on school field trips, the farm being one of the only “historic” locations within forty-five minutes of Meridian.

A group of children rounds the corner, flying down the dirt path at top speed. One of them crashes into his legs, and then lands back on the ground with a soft oof.

“Easy, kid.” Bucky reaches down to help her up, and his heart leaps into his throat when Iris beams at him.

“Hi, Mr. Bucky!” Her wide smile is missing a couple of teeth. “I’m sorry I runned into you.”

“That’s okay.” He glances around, looking for you, but he doesn’t see you. “Where’s, um. Where’s your mom?” She cocks her head at him.

“She’s talking with Miss Kitty.” Iris points back towards the parking lot, and then makes a face. “Grown-up stuff.” She looks so much like you, wrinkling her little nose with distaste the same way you do. He can’t help but wonder who you’d found after him, who had tried to help you pick up the pieces because Bucky wouldn’t.

Couldn’t.

And perhaps that’s the worst part of all, that when he’d broken you, he expected you to stay that way. But you hadn’t. You’ve moved on, you’ve grown, while Bucky is stuck in the same mud pit, nursing the same old wounds. Or maybe he isn’t nursing them at all, just tearing them open again and again because he knows he doesn’t deserve peace.

If he did, he’d be in the ground same as Beccs.

“Do you, um. Do you like blueberries?” Bucky asks lamely. He doesn’t know how to talk to kids, not really. Iris looks around conspiratorially, before gesturing for him to lean in close.

“They’re mommy’s favorite,” she stage whispers, and Bucky nods. He remembers that, at least. “She’s sad today. If I bring her something she likes, maybe she’ll be happy again.” Iris says resolutely, secure in the soundness of her childish reasoning. It makes Bucky’s heart ache a little, though he isn’t sure why. “Can you help me?”

Bucky rubs the back of his neck. He knows you probably don’t want him anywhere near your kid. He looks around, searching for you, but he doesn’t see you.

“I dunno, kid, I mean… your mom, she…” Bucky stops, unsure of what to say. He can’t exactly tell a six year old that he’d nuked their relationship, can he?

“Please?”

“I guess I could… help you get a few.” She chatters aimlessly at him, and Bucky struggles to keep up and respond to every loose thought that seems to fly from her little mouth up to his ears. Iris is so much like you—and it isn’t just the fact that in more than a few ways, she could be your twin. She reminds him of you before.

His fingers are stained purple by the time Iris’ bucket is even a quarter of the way full. Bucky can’t believe he even remembers how to do this, gripping the soft fruit gingerly and twisting it off of the vine. Iris’ mouth and hands are purple too, though that’s more from eating than picking. She stands up away from the bucket and waves at someone Bucky can’t see, crouched underneath the thorny vines the way he is.

“Hi mommy!” He pulls hurriedly away from the bush, wincing as one of the thorns catches his finger. You look less than pleased, but not angry. Panicked might be a better way to describe your tight expression, the frantic way your eyes move back and forth between Bucky and Iris.

“Hey, sweetheart. I was looking for you,” you reply. The weak smile on your features grows strained. “Hello Bucky.”

“Hey.”

“Mr. Bucky helped me get lots of berries, mommy, see?” Iris reaches indigo stained fingers into the bucket, and lets a handful of berries fall through her tiny fingers like gold coins. “Lots!”

“Woah! That’s so many,” you agree, placing your hands on your knees as you bend over to peer into her bucket. “I thought maybe we could head out, sweet pea. Maybe go for dinner? My friend made reservations for us somewhere special.”

“Is it Andy?” Iris replies, her nose wrinkling again. “I don’t like him, mommy.”

You wince.

Who the fuck is Andy? The live-wire of jealousy that flares to life within him is neither logical nor fair. It’s the same one that had sparked when he’d found out you’d gotten pregnant, moved on, had an entire life without him while he was drowning in pills. But you like pills. The demon’s sly whisper makes him wince. More than anything.

“Okay. Well, why don’t we talk about that in the car, hmm? You should go say goodbye to your friends.”

“I don’t want to,” Iris whines. “I don’t want to go to dinner, I want to stay and—” You crouch down in front of Iris, grasping her hands in yours.

“I know, sweetheart. I know you’re frustrated because you want to stay and play, but it’s time to go. But you’ll see all your friends next week after school, won’t that be fun?” Iris’ pout is gut wrenching, her little lip poking out and trembling as she stares at you with watery eyes.

“Okay.” She scuffs her foot against the dirt, kicking up a few pebbles. You massage your temples as you watch her go.

“Sorry about that. I hope she wasn’t too much trouble.” You stuff your hands into the pockets of your jeans, making small talk.

“No, no. She’s, um. She’s great.” Bucky says, shaking his head. “So… Andy.” He can’t help the bitter tinge that colors his words, he can only hope you don’t taste it too. Your jaw tightens at the mention of his name, and you blow out a breath. “The um. The police guy.”

“Yeah.” You look away. “He’s nice.”

“I didn’t think badges were your type.” He scoffs.

“What would you know about my type?” You fire back, hackles already up. Bucky’s lips draw into a thin scowl, and he opens his mouth to loose more venom, but stops, and deflates.

“Nothing, I guess.” He says after a moment, shrugging. He attempts to steer the conversation back into safer waters. “Your kid, she’s, um. She’s really something.”

“Yeah.” You hook your thumbs through the belt-loops of your jeans. “Even if she does announce my business to the world.” Bucky laughs at that.

“That’s what they’re for, right?” He says, and for the first time since he’s been back you really smile at him. Bright and wide and beautiful, like you used to. His chest goes tight. “Looks just like you.”

You shake your head, laughing. “She…” You hesitate, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as the two of you watch her gesticulating enthusiastically at another group of kids her age. “She looks like her dad.” It hangs in the air uncomfortably between you. He wants to ask. He wants to ask so badly, but he knows it’ll just make you throw up another wall. He wonders how many you’ve built just because of him.

“I didn’t know they would put you guys to work like this,” you say quickly, as though forcing more words out will cover up the ones that went before. “Is that legal?” Your stiff joke lands, and the corners of Bucky’s mouth turn up.

“I don’t know. Probably not. Pretty sure there’s hazardous chemicals in the sheds that we could use for nefarious purposes.” For a moment the two of you are laughing together, and Bucky feels the clock rewind—and then it’s over, dirt crunching under Iris’ sneakers as she approaches.

“Okay mom,” she says decisively. “We can go.”

“Oh, well, thank you very much,” you reply, shaking your head a little. You glance at Bucky over your shoulder. “I guess I’ll, um. See you. Around.”

“Yeah.” Iris looks back at him too, giving him a wide smile. She tugs her hand out of yours and jogs back over to him, reaching conspiratorially into her pocket.

“I saved you some,” she says, and then holds a purple stained finger over her mouth. “Don’t tell, okay?”

“Okay,” Bucky whispers back, nodding seriously. “I won’t tell.” The berries are a little squished and hot from the heat of her palm, and they stain his fingers with fresh purple juice. He watches you go, Iris bouncing excitedly beside you as—Bucky grimaces. He remembers Andy well enough, his manicured beard and sharply pressed uniform hard to miss. Bucky gets a perverse sort of pleasure watching Iris’ lukewarm greeting, and the way you turn your face so that he gets your cheek when he drops his head for a kiss.

Prick.

At least he knew Andy wasn’t Iris’ father. That would have been a much harder pill for him to swallow, and all the more distasteful. Who is her father? The question plagues him as they head back to the community center. It’s like a rock in his shoe, impossible to ignore no matter how many times he shifts it’s position. There are other rocks too, ones that make him narrow his eyes as he stares out the window at the passing countryside. Iris’ allergy, her age…

He supposed he had been trying not to think about it, the thought playing at the edges of his conscious mind. Mainly because it would be unthinkable—you’d agreed, both of you had agreed that you would get an abortion.

So Iris couldn’t be his.

What if she didn’t? The oily smooth voice at the back of his mind whispers. What if she didn’t?

Steve’s pickup rumbles into the driveway, and Bucky sits in it vacantly for a few minutes after Steve hops out. The thought eats at him, won’t leave him alone.

What if?

“Buck, you’re pacing.” Steve comments from the doorway of his room. “I can hear you downstairs.” Bucky scrubs a hand down his face.

“I’m sorry.” He perches on the edge of the bed, his hand tapping nervously against his knee. “I just, I can’t stop thinking, you know?” Usually he has the pills to help with that, to dull the anxious turning of his mind. But now, he has nothing.

“Yeah?” Steve moves to sit beside him. “What about?”

“About Jellybean, and the kid, and fuck, what if it’s mine? And I never fucking knew this whole goddamn time? That would fucking serve me right, wouldn’t it?” Bucky barks out a humorless laugh. He looks at Steve, waiting for him to say something, anything. “Right? I mean it’s not possible, right? It-It’s not.”

It’s so silent, Bucky reckons he could hear a pin drop. For once he’s thankful to be out of the haze, because it lets the puzzle pieces slide together almost disgustingly easily. His face contorts as he jumps up, away from Steve.

“Oh my God.” He presses the heels of his palms into his closed eyes as he shakes his head. “You fucking knew.” Steve holds his hands out placatingly.

“Buck.” He reaches out to place a hand on Bucky’s shoulder, but he shoves him away.

“No, you shut the fuck up,” Bucky says, shaking his head disbelievingly. “You fucking knew.” His voice cracks, just a little.

“She asked me not to say anything. I swear, I didn’t know before we got back—” Bucky’s already running down the stairs, the sound of his pulse roaring in his ears blocking out the sound of Steve frantically shouting his name. He doesn’t realize he’s leaving the house until he’s already outside, rapidly fleeing into the coming evening before Steve has a chance to follow.

I have a daughter.

next chapter

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onceuponastory · 1 year

Text

letting you down - rockstar!bucky x reader

Don't you get sick of only hearing your own voice? Talk like you're so damn tough, but you're just a little boy You like to think you've broke the mould, but now I'm sure, You'll crack just like the rest when I break your fucking jaw! - the best thing (that never happened) by we are the in crowd

Edit: Although the girl I used in the original moodboard was meant to be Natasha, I want my fics to be inclusive for all, so have updated the moodboard to reflect this. Plot: Tour romances mean nothing serious...right?

Or, fresh out of a breakup and deciding to focus on her music, Y/N jumps at the chance to go on tour with one of her favourite bands to take her mind off of things. Especially romance. Unfortunately for her, their drummer just can't keep his eyes off of her. Pairing: Rockstar!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader Warnings: Emotional abuse and manipulation (not from Bucky), reader’s ex being a dick, self doubt, a tiny mention of violence and anxiety. As always, if I miss any triggers, please let me know. Notes: Another rockstar Bucky fic, because I do love him so. Also, this was inspired by song above, so I recommend you listen to it (also because it’s a great song). Again, thanks to @staticscreenwriting / @astartothemoon for my dividers. Not beta’d, so any mistakes are my own.

Taking a seat on the cold wooden chair in her agent’s office, Y/N anxiously nibbles on the skin of her lip, almost tearing it off with how nervous she is. Only an hour ago, she was told to come to the office urgently because her agent had news for her, too important to share over the phone. The whole time, she’s been wracking her brain to figure out what she could want to tell her. And each time, her mind has come up with the worst potential outcomes. And after just being dumped, that’s the last thing she needs right now. “So, we have some news.” Helen, her agent, announces, peering at her over the frame of her glasses. Y/N gulps. It’s the sort of look a mother gives her child when they’re caught sneaking cookies out of the jar, or when she knows that they’re the one who broke her vase. Either way, it’s not a good sign. She’s definitely about to be dropped. Maybe Dylan's right. Maybe she’s not cut out for this. Her stomach churns, and she warily eyes the exit, just in case.

“Good news, I hope…?” She chuckles awkwardly, starting to hope the ground will swallow her whole.

“It depends on whether you have any plans in September.” Frowning, Y/N raises a brow. However, before she can even ask why, Helen continues. “Because The End of The Line wants you to open for them on their US Tour that month.” She states casually. Y/N’s mouth drops open.

“WHAT?!” she squeals. “Are you serious?!” The End of The Line is a band she knows very well. Okay, she knows their music. Yet, considering how they’ve got multiple number ones and album nominations under their belts, practically everyone knows who they are. They’re one of the most successful bands going in the scene right now. But she had no idea they knew who she was. What feels like only a few months ago, Y/N was posting her own original songs on her YouTube and performing in her local bar…and now, she’s going on tour with one of her favourite bands. Not even that. Imagine the exposure this could bring. All the new fans and support. She doesn’t even realise how much her heart is beating or how close she is to hyperventilating until Helen passes over a glass of water.

“Don’t be so modest.” She tuts. “The first single you released has been in the Top 10 for weeks, and your album is selling incredibly well. You’re in high demand, and people know it.” Y/N gulps down the water almost in one go, still shaking. “Are you okay? I don’t want you passing out on my floor.”

“No, no. I’m okay! I’m good.” Y/N lies. Helen raises a brow.

“Okay, well I need to confirm your attendance with their team so they can schedule a meeting with them and the band to go over venues. And then there’s merchandising, transport arrangements….” Helen’s voice fades into static as Y/N grapples with the situation. She’s going on tour with one of her favourite bands. They know who she is, and they like her. She pinches her skin a few times, wondering if she’s still dreaming. That she’ll open her eyes and she’ll be a nobody again, her perfect Cinderella story over.

However, the repeated pinching doesn’t work, meaning that this is real. That revelation somehow both makes her relieved and absolutely terrified. Sure, she’s going on her first tour…but that means there’s more people to disappoint. The band, for a start. But then again, going on tour means meeting one of her favourite bands ever. Not to mention that by getting herself out there, more and more people can discover her music, and she can hopefully do what she loves for a living, rather than waiting tables for the rest of her life. Which means potentially more tours and new albums. And she won’t have to spend as much time in her practically empty apartment now that Dylan’s left. “So? What should I say?” Helen asks, peering over the rim of her glasses again.

Taking a breath, Y/N answers: “Tell them I’d love to tour with them.”

A few weeks later, Y/N and Helen enter the building where she’s about to meet The End of the Line and their agent. Glancing around the vast building, Y/N’s heart rate picks up. A year ago, she could only dream of going to a place like this for a visit, let alone to meet one of the biggest bands in the scene to plan a tour with them. As they enter the elevator, Y/N fiddles with the waistband of her trousers, suddenly feeling more and more constricted.

“Maybe this was the wrong outfit choice. Maybe I should’ve been more casual?” She wonders. “Actually, maybe I should just go. I definitely do not fit in here. Sure, I’ll be getting out of the house, but is it really worth all this?” Y/N bounces anxiously on her heels, waiting for the elevator to reach the floor they need so she can make a break for it.

“Y/N, please calm down before you stress me out. That’s the last thing either of us needs.” Helen sighs.

“Sorry. I’m just nervous.” Yet she can tell Helen’s words are not malicious. Helen really does care for her. She just has a funny way of showing it sometimes.

“I know. Trust me, though, they don’t bite. And I made Tony promise that he’d play nice, too.” She chuckles. Y/N doesn’t laugh. The elevator dings, and Helen announces that they’ve made it. Y/N’s heart drops. Although she considered running, she now can’t move. “Come on.” Helen orders, beckoning her to follow. Y/N does as she asks, as if on autopilot.

“That woman must have magic powers.” She thinks to herself.

When they reach the meeting room, to Y/N’s surprise, Helen simply walks in without knocking, giving her no time to prepare.

“Well, look who finally arrived! It’s wonderful to see you again, Helen.” A man grins, shaking Helen’s hand. He’s dressed in a crisp black suit, one that Y/N recognises absolutely costs more than her rent for a year. Presumably that’s Tony. Y/N steps forward, ready to introduce herself. Until-

“Hey! You must be Y/N!” Before she can even react, Natasha Romanoff is standing in front of her. Y/N gulps.

“Yeah, that’s me. It’s nice to meet you!” She holds out a hand for her to shake, but Natasha pulls her into a hug instead.

“There’s one thing you gotta know about Nat. She’s a hugger.” She recognises Steve’s voice, but suddenly realising Natasha Romanoff is a real person to then being hugged by her in such a short space of time is a lot for Y/N to cope with.

“You’re gorgeous! I can’t wait to go on tour with you!” Nat squeals, and Y/N mutters something in reply, still in shock.

“Nat, let the poor girl breathe and let the rest of us say hi!” a voice speaks, and Y/N is soon released from Nat’s grasp. Then, she meets the rest of the band, starting with Steve and Sam. “And over there is…”

But the man on the couch needs no introduction. Bucky Barnes leans against the back of the couch, twirling a drumstick between his tattooed fingers. In fact, tattoos cover both of his arms and most of his hands, little of his actual skin showing. He cocks his head, looking over her body with a smile. This man just oozes confidence…and he’s fucking gorgeous.

“Bucky.” She whispers, although not quietly enough, as Bucky laughs.

“Yup, that’s me.” Y/N blushes. Bucky gets up and shakes her hand. Her fingers brush over the calluses dotted around his fingers, and a shiver reverberates through her body. “Nice to meet you.” He smiles, and Y/N gulps. Fuck, this man is attractive, and he knows it. And he probably knows that she knows it too, given how he’s looking at her. Nothing can come of this, though. She’s here to do a job and for her music, not to fall in love. Especially after everything that’s happened in her love life, and especially not with a band guy like Bucky Barnes.

“Come on, let’s start planning.” Tony orders. As the group takes their seats, Bucky sits right across from her, still smiling. Still staring at her. Y/N’s breath hitches in her throat.

She can already tell…he’s got trouble written all over him.

The next few months of interviews, photoshoots and practice sessions whizz by in a blur. In seemingly no time at all, it’s time for Y/N to go on tour. She looks up at the tour buses, her stomach churning with both excitement and her nerves.

Is it too early to go home?

“Hey! You made it!” a voice calls. And there go her escape plans.

“Hey Eddie. Do you know where I’m supposed to be staying? Am I with you guys on your bus?" she asks. Eddie is one of the band’s merch guys, and since meeting, the pair gelled right away, something which Y/N is immensely grateful for. Of course, she’s glad she and the band are getting on so well, but it’s nice to have a friend who isn’t in a band, someone she can just talk to about anything. In all honesty, Y/N’s still nervous around the band. They’re lovely, but she’s star-struck and hopelessly awkward whenever she’s with them, which isn’t a good thing when you’re trying to make friends.

To her confusion, though, Eddie chuckles. “Sorry Y/N, but you’re not with us.” He gestures his head to the other bus. “The musicians are all in there.” Y/N gulps. This isn’t what she expected. She feels like a fish out of water, even now. Like she doesn’t belong. She’s just an opener, a nobody.

“But-”

“Yes, that means you too.” Eddie cuts her off. “And we’re full.” He continues before she can say anything more. “On you go.” When she doesn’t move, he gently nudges her forward, towards the door of the bus. “You better be fast and get a good bunk!” He calls after her as she nervously steps on board.

As she makes her way to the bunk area, clutching her bag close to her chest, Y/N looks around the bus, her home for the next few weeks. Its kitchenette is even bigger than her kitchen at home. Actually, this whole bus is bigger than her apartment. Earlier this year, she could only dream of standing on a bus like this, yet alone living here. This is definitely going to take some getting used to.

“Hey guys.” She smiles when she reaches the bunks. They all smile when they see her, each welcoming her to her new home, which makes her feel a little less nervous. “So, which bunk is mine?”

“You’re up here, above me.” Bucky answers. Y/N’s eyes widen, and immediately, her nervousness is back. Bucky? She’s sleeping in close proximity to Bucky? The same drummer who’s been on her mind ever since she met him, despite her attempts to block him out? How can this possibly go wrong? “I hope that’s okay. If you’d rather have the bottom one, just say.” He reassures her. Despite her nerves, Bucky’s commitment to making sure she’s okay and comfortable makes her smile.

“No, the top one is totally fine. Thanks Bucky.” She nods, trying to throw her bag onto the bed, but unable to reach.

“Let me help you with that.” Bucky chuckles.

“Are you sure? I’m okay Bucky, it’s-” But the bag falls to the floor before she can finish her sentence. Bucky laughs again. Yet it’s not a mocking laugh. It’s a friendly laugh, actually. “Okay, maybe I do need help.” Bucky picks up her bag, lifting it over her head and onto the bunk with ease. As he does, she immediately notices his proximity to her. He’s so close that he’s almost trapping her between the bunks. So close she could reach out and run her finger along every single outline of each of Bucky’s tattoos, touch every freckle and birthmark dotting his skin. Y/N gasps. She never realised how muscular he was at first. “Thanks.” She smiles.

“You’re welcome.” He nods. For a moment, it’s as if it’s just them two on the bus, in their own little universe, each staring into the other’s eyes. But then, a little voice sounds in Y/N’s head.

“Don’t get with band dudes. They’re no good. And they’re the last thing you need, especially now.” And so, she pulls away. As she does, she registers Bucky’s smile faltering slightly. “So, what are the beds like? Are they comfy?” She asks, climbing up to her bunk, hoping to change the subject.

“Yeah, they’re alright.” Bucky replies, his voice mumbled slightly. As she lays down, Bucky’s smile fading and his slight disappointment replays in her mind. His disappointment confuses her.

This is for her own good.

For both of their own good.

So why does she feel so bad about it?

Early the next morning, Y/N sits alone at the small table in the bus’ kitchenette, staring out at the window and watching the world go by. A steaming mug of coffee sits opposite her. Unsurprisingly, her nerves meant she didn’t sleep well the night before. Especially since tomorrow marks the first night of the tour, and her first time performing for people who aren’t the regulars at her local bar.

“Hey.” A familiar voice speaks, pulling her out of her thoughts as Bucky sits opposite her. Y/N rubs her eyes, mumbling a good morning. “You good? Wasn’t expecting anyone else to be up so early.” He remarks. She waits, a part of her expecting a cheeky or sarcastic comment to follow. However, there’s no malice in Bucky’s comment. In fact, it’s far from cruel. It’s from a place of concern, making sure she’s alright after having her world changed practically overnight. And Y/N appreciates it more than he’ll ever know.

“Yeah, I’m okay.” Y/N murmurs, wiping at her eyes. “Just homesick, that’s all. I’m not used to being away from home on tour yet. I mostly just stick to playing local bars.” It’s not exactly a lie. Sure, it’s not the main reason she’s sitting here teary eyed at not even 8.30am, but it’s still part of it. Bucky’s brow furrows. A part of her expects him to judge her, or to laugh at her for being so inexperienced. Like she’s used to people doing. Well…like she’s used to Dylan doing. Or worse, he’ll start prying. Something she absolutely isn’t ready for. However, Bucky simply nods.

“Yeah, I get that. It took us all a while to get used to it, too. But don’t worry, you’re doing great, and you’re definitely good enough to be on tour.” And for the first time that morning, Y/N finds herself smiling.

“So, now we’ve established why I’m here so early in the morning, can I ask why you are?”

“Well, I’ve always been a bit of an early bird, and when you share a bus with three other people, some of whom snore….” He trails off, and he and Y/N laugh. “I usually take this time to write some music, but it’s nice to have some new company for once.”

“Have you been working on anything special?” Bucky shrugs.

“Just some things here and there. Maybe we could plan a writing session.”

“Just us?” Y/N regrets the question almost immediately. Because who does that? Who asks a cute guy who talks about hanging out with you if his friends will tag along too?

“If you want.” Bucky smiles, and something in Y/N’s stomach flutters. “Okay, I’m gonna get some breakfast.” Bucky announces, getting up. “Do you want some?”

“Sure, what have you got?”

“We have…cereal or cereal.” He offers, holding up two boxes. Y/N laughs.

“Wow, what varied choices. I think I’ll have cereal, please.” Y/N points out the box she wants, and Bucky nods.

“A wise choice.” Y/N giggles again, and he grins. He passes over a bowl and sits back down. The pair chat as they eat their breakfast, laughing at each other’s jokes. Y/N can feel her heart beating like crazy. She never imagined she would be here, doing simple things like eating breakfast with a rockstar, or that they’d get along so well. Especially so soon after having her heart broken. It’s an unfamiliar experience…but it’s a nice, comfortable one all the same.

As the morning goes on, the rest of the band slowly make their way towards them, and the bus fills with laughter and chatter. Bucky drums a rhythm on the table, and once again Y/N finds herself smiling as she watches him play, and as the others all sing along. Yet, despite how much fun she’s having at that moment, all she can think about is when this tour will be over, and how, when it ends, she’s going to be heartbroken and alone all over again. And she can’t handle that pain. Not again.

She has to limit the risk of heartbreak, wherever possible.

The next night, Y/N paces around the green room, nervously murmuring to herself. “I can’t do this. I can’t do this. Oh god, they’re gonna hate me.” She wrings her hands together. “Is it too late to go home?”

“Hey, it’s alright Y/N. Calm down. Take deep breaths.” Sam encourages.

“Yeah, you’ll be fine! You’ve practised more than enough for this. We were nervous our first time too.” Natasha continues, and the others nod. Yet, Y/N shakes her head.

“No. I won’t. It’s a huge crowd, and I’m not good enough.” A figure stands in front of her, gently taking her arms.

“Y/N.” Bucky. “I promise you, you are good enough for this. After all, that’s why we brought you on tour with us, right, guys?” A chorus of agreement fills the room, alleviating her worry slightly.

“What if they hate me, though?”

“Nobody’s going to hate you. Did you see the reaction we got when we announced you? Everyone is so excited, and you’re going to go out there and kill it, just like you did in rehearsal.” Seeing that she’s still nervous, Bucky leans in slightly closer. “When you’re out there, imagine you’re performing just for us, like before. Think you can do that?” He asks.

“I guess….” She murmurs, and Bucky smiles.

“Good girl. Want us to walk down to the stage with you?” He asks, and she nods. When the time comes, the band does exactly that, reassuring her the whole way there. As she waits for the song before she goes out to finish, Y/N takes deep breaths. She registers someone squeezing her hand, and Bucky whispers in her ear. “Don’t worry. Just like you practised. We’ll be right here, watching.” Y/N nods.

And then, it’s time, and Y/N steps onto the stage. Immediately, she launches into her first song. To her surprise, most of the crowd seems to know it, and she can see the people in the first few rows singing along and dancing. Even those who don’t know her look like they’re having a good time. And the same things happen with the second song. And the next song. The crowd seems to love her.

After a few songs, Y/N takes a minute to have a drink.

“Hey guys! I’m Y/N.” The crowd cheers, and she can’t help but smile. “Some of you may know this, but this is my first actual show on an actual tour, and what a fucking amazing crowd and band to start my tour life with!” More cheers. “So thank you all, but especially thank you to The End of the Line!” She glances to the side of the stage, catching the eyes of the band. All four grin, giving her a thumbs up. Y/N smiles proudly. “This next song is called Crimson. Sing along if you know it.”

Y/N’s set goes by both quicker and better than she expected. As she gets closer to the end of her set, the band leaves to finish getting ready for their own set. However, Y/N doesn’t mind. She already feels more confident than she did at the beginning. As she finishes up her last song, she calls out: “Thank you all so fucking much! I’m gonna be hanging out at the merch table over there for a bit if you wanna come say hi or tell me I was shit. Fuck it, you guys bought the tickets.” She giggles. “Goodnight!”

When she makes it to the merch stand, Eddie hands her a beer, which she almost downs. “Damn girl.” Eddie praises. “That was fucking awesome!”

“You think?”

“Uh, yeah! The crowd loved you. We’ve sold a bunch of your merch already.” She gasps.

“You’re kidding.” He shakes his head, gesturing to something behind her. Y/N turns around to see some girls standing there, staring at her all wide eyed. “Oh sorry. Am I in your way for merch? Just tell me to move. It’s okay.”

“You were amazing! I love your music so much.” One of them grins, holding out her ticket and a sharpie. “Can you sign my ticket, please?” Y/N’s mouth drops open. She wasn’t actually expecting people to want to meet her.

“And mine!” The others chorus.

“T-Thanks!” Still slightly in shock, Y/N nods, signing each ticket and taking pictures with each of them. Soon, a few more fans come to see her, and still amazed, Y/N repeats the cycle. This is her first ever meet and greet, the first time people actually like her.

“Have a good night!” She calls as they go back towards the crowd. “Did that just happen, or am I fucking dreaming?!” she asks Eddie, who laughs.

“I told you. They love you.”

During The End Of The Line’s set, Y/N stands side stage watching them, smiling and singing along to every song as the crowd laps it up, screaming every word back to them. They’re such incredible performers. Maybe one day, that’ll be her, selling out venues across the country. She glances out on the stage, watching as the band plays. Natasha jumps around, her red hair swinging around wildly. Sam and Steve lean against each other as they play their guitars, smiling and joking with each other. And then, she sees Bucky, drumming furiously, his arms moving rapidly. He throws his hands up into the air, twirling his drumsticks between his fingers. Once the song ends, he runs his hand through his hair, strands sticking to his sweaty forehead. Breathlessly, he smiles, mouthing a thank you to the crowd. Y/N feels her breath hitching in her throat. He looks so gorgeous, a true rockstar.

In an ideal world, one where she and her love life aren’t so broken, they’d probably be together. But there’s no way that can happen. She can see how the girls in the crowd look at him and the others. If he has the pick of any girl he wants, why would he ever go for her?

After all, she’s just an opener. Feeling her heart sinking, Y/N sighs sadly. With one last look at Bucky, she turns and walks back to the green room.

After their set, the band comes back to the green room. To her surprise, though, they’re not talking about their set…they’re talking about hers. “I knew it! You were perfect!” Natasha squeals. “We’re so proud of you!”

“And Eddie told us about your meet and greet. The fans love you.” Sam praises. Before Y/N can say anything, the band envelopes her in a group hug. The overwhelming love and support shown to her throughout the night suddenly reaches a head. Immediately, tears come to her eyes, and soon, Y/N begins crying.

“Oh god, sorry was it too much? We can be a lot, so if you’re uncomfortable, just tell us, sweetheart.”

“No! I’m just…not used to all this, to being shown so much support all at once.” She murmurs, and a chorus of “awww!” fills the room.

“Trust us.” Natasha smiles. “You deserve it.”

“Welcome to touring life Y/N! As a celebration, I say we go get food. My treat.” Steve grins.

“Wow, you’re paying? That’s new. You should savour this experience Y/N.” Sam teases, and the group dissolves into laughter. As she looks around at the band, her new friends who changed her life, Y/N smiles, already feeling her anxieties beginning to melt away slightly.

“Come on then. Let’s go.”

“That was so good. And it tasted even better since I didn’t pay.” Sam grins, and Y/N laughs.

“Shove off. It’s your turn next time.” Steve replies. As Sam, Steve and Natasha walk on ahead, Bucky falls into step beside her. Right away, she can feel her heart rate beginning to increase.

“I’ve eaten so much, I’m surprised I’m still able to walk.” She murmurs, and Bucky laughs.

“Yeah, I feel that. We go there every time we’re here, and every time I eat too much too. Join the club.” Y/N looks up, glancing at the stars. She used to wish on them every night, hoping someone would discover her, and that she might actually have a shot at making music, the thing she loves, her job. And now, here she is. Maybe dreams come true after all. “So.” Bucky begins, drawing her focus back to him. “Is there anywhere on this tour you’re most excited to go to?”

“I don’t really know. In all honesty, this whole thing and getting to tour the country is still mind blowing to me. I’m happy to go anywhere.” Smiling, Bucky nods.

“Yeah, I was the same when we first started out. You’ll still pinch yourself, even when you get as famous as us. And I have every faith you’ll get there.” Y/N gasps. It’s strange, how he’s so much more famous than her, and yet he still talks to her and treats her like he’s his equal. He really is one of the kindest people she knows. Her stomach twists in knots. And that’s going to make leaving him even more difficult. “I’m most excited to be back in New York, though. Even though I moved away, hometown shows are always the best.”

“You’re from New York too? Same!” Bucky smiles. Her eyes trace along Bucky’s jawline, illuminated by the streetlights. He looks so beautiful. She feels Bucky’s hand brushing against hers, and her heart rate increases.

If dreams do come true...she has an idea for a new one.

“Really? That’s awesome. You know, there’s a really great Italian restaurant I go to all the time whenever I’m there. Maybe we could go.” Y/N suppresses a laugh. She’d love that more than anything, but deep down, she knows he doesn’t really mean it. It’s just him trying to be nice. He’ll forget about her when all of this is over. They all will. And she can’t even blame them for it. Sighing, she nods.

“Yeah. That’d be nice.”

As the tour continues, Y/N’s confidence continues to grow. Each night, she becomes more and more excited to go on stage. And in turn, she becomes more confident around the band, and spends more time with them, whether it’s writing songs together, shopping with Natasha, or hanging out with Sam and Steve. Basically, her touring life is perfect…aside from one little thorn in her side.

Bucky Barnes.

It’s not that Bucky has been horrible to her, not at all. In fact, he’s been the same kind and welcoming person he’s always been. That’s the problem. He’s so kind that it’s hard to not get close to him, or to want to spend time with him. Especially since she can already feel herself falling deeper in love with him with every passing day. Each time she has to pull away, Y/N feels terrible.

“So.” Natasha smirks one day whilst they’re out shopping. “When are you gonna put that poor boy out of his misery?” When Y/N raises a brow, Natasha rolls her eyes. “Don’t pretend like you don’t know what I mean! Bucky is so clearly whipped for you, and you’re obviously into him. I can see it all over you.” She grins. Y/N gulps. Despite how happy she is to know that Bucky might feel the same way about her, this is the last thing she wanted to happen.

“Nothing is going to happen Nat. And you don’t even know if that’s true.” She points out. Natasha says something in reply, but Y/N doesn’t hear it. All she can think about is how big of a problem this is, and how she’s going to have to break Bucky’s heart even more. Of course, the idea of just telling him the truth and admitting her feelings has crossed her mind a few times. Yet, despite how much she wants to do that, and to stop letting her fear and Dylan ruin her new chance at happiness…she’s too afraid to admit the truth, and to drag Bucky into her mess. Or to lose him, and be heartbroken all over again. And this time, it’ll hurt even more than it did with Dylan.

As soon as they get back, Y/N enters the bus, shutting the door behind them. She climbs into her bunk. Angrily throwing the pillow across her bunk, Y/N grabs her phone. Hopefully, scrolling through social media will make her feel better. And at first, it works as posts from her fans fill her feed. She likes and comments on a few, continuing to scroll. As Y/N reads their words, a smile grows on her face. She’s so lucky to have her fans and their support. But then, another post appears. One of her ex and her ex-best friend. Immediately, her heart sinks. They’re still together, smiling like nothing happened, acting like they haven’t left a trail of destruction in their wake and ruined her life. She’s sitting here, terrified of getting too close to Bucky and the others in case she gets hurt like that again. And the people who did it to her in the first place don't even care. They never did.

Angrily, Y/N grips her blanket, grabbing her songwriting notebook and opening it.

It’s about time she lets out her emotions.

“Is Y/N okay?” Sam asks the next morning, after they arrive in New York. “I didn’t see much of her last night, and she shut herself away as soon as we got to the venue.” Bucky furrows his brow, concern flooding his features. Y/N barely spoke to anyone, only a few words here and there. Natasha shrugs.

“She said she’s busy writing, and she doesn’t want to be disturbed. I guess we’ll find out when her new song comes out.” That makes Bucky even more concerned. He knows all about being in a deeply focused, creative headspace, and how you don’t want to speak to anyone until it’s done. But he also knows how bad it can be when you shut yourself away for so long, especially when she already looks so upset. He’ll have to check on her when he gets the chance.

Yet, the next time he sees Y/N is when she’s getting ready to go on and is in a rush.

“Are you sure you’re alright? We were worried about you.” He asks, watching as she runs around the room, spraying hairspray and perfume everywhere.

“Yeah, I’m good. Much better.” She insists, reapplying her lipstick in the mirror and giving herself one last check over. “Right, I gotta go. Talk soon, yeah?”

“But-” Bucky begins, cut off by Y/N placing her hand on his arm.

“Bucky, trust me. I’m okay. Bye!” And then she’s gone, leaving the scent of perfume in her wake. Despite his concern, Bucky chuckles. She sure is something. Tonight, she looks like an angel, glitter covering her lids and outfit. She looks beautiful. But she always does. This entire tour, he’s been trying to find the guts to tell her the truth about how he feels, with no luck. And the way she always turns him down or pulls away at the last second makes him think she doesn’t feel the same. Turning, Bucky follows her down towards the stage.

Although, if she doesn’t feel the same way, he’d understand. When he gets to the side stage, Y/N is already on, in the middle of her first song. Bucky watches her as she works through her first few songs, smiling. The way she controls and interacts with the crowd is incredible, much better than he could ever do.

“Well, hello New York!” Y/N shouts into the mic, the ending of her sentence being drowned out by screams and cheers. “You guys are fucking awesome. Thank you so much!” Another round of cheering sounds, and Y/N grins, the lighting illuminating her teeth and the glitter she’s wearing. Bucky watches, smiling. “Are you guys excited for The End of The Line?” The crowd goes wild again, and Y/N laughs. “That was probably a stupid question.”

“I wanna try something new with you guys, if that’s okay.” She continues, and Bucky raises a brow. “But it means I have to tell you a story too…. Oh, I can see complete excitement on your faces, so I won’t talk too long then.” She jokes, laughing. And then, Bucky realises he’s laughing too. “So a few months ago, just before The End of The Line invited me on their tour, my boyfriend dumped me over text.” The crowd immediately starts booing, whilst Bucky raises an eyebrow. She never mentioned this. “I know! But unfortunately, it’s not just that, New York. He told me he was dumping me for one of my best friends. The same friend he was cheating on me with for the last few months of our relationship. Apparently, me playing shows was too much for him to handle, and I’d never be famous, so he had to think of his future with a girl who ‘knows what she’s doing, instead of just a bar singer’ like me.” The boos intensify, and Y/N nods, clutching a hand to her chest. “I know! At first, I let his words get to me. Look at me now, though!” The crowd cheers, and Y/N grins. “So, I put all my pain and anger into a song, and I’d like to perform it for the first time for you guys. Is that cool with you?!” The crowd goes wild, and Y/N grins, tuning her guitar. “Okay, okay! I hear you loud and clear. If you’ve ever had to deal with a shitty person in your life, I hope this song speaks to you as much as it does to me…and that you tell them to go fuck themselves.” She smirks, and Bucky laughs. “This song is called Letting You Down.”

As the song plays, Y/N sings with more passion and fury than Bucky has ever seen. She controls the crowd masterfully, having them hanging onto every word she sings. For only just starting out, she really is a natural. Yet, her admission replays through his mind. Hearing how poorly she was treated infuriates him. Y/N’s such a talented and good-hearted person, and she doesn’t deserve that. Her ex obviously has no idea what he’s talking about. Although going through all that may explain why she’s been pulling away from him so much, and so nervous about being on tour. Y/N needs to know how talented and loved she is. And if she doesn’t, he’ll tell her every day.

After Y/N’s set, Bucky waits in the green room for her. When she walks in and sees Bucky sitting there, her eyes widen. “Aren’t you meant to be on stage in like five minutes?” She frowns. Bucky shakes his head.

“That’s not important right now. I need to talk to you.” Her face falls.

“You heard, didn’t you?” He hates how small and ashamed her voice sounds, like he’d be mad at her for admitting the truth. Bucky nods, stepping closer.

“I did, listen Y/N, I-”

“Buck, come on, we have to go!” Steve calls, poking his head through the door. Bucky doesn’t even care. He just wants to be with Y/N. “Buck!” Steve repeats.

“You need to go!” Y/N insists.

“But-”

“Bucky. Go. I’ll talk to you later, okay?” She promises, gently pushing him towards the door.

Throughout the entirety of their set, all Bucky can do is think of Y/N, and the things he needs to say to her. Things he’s wanted to say to her from the beginning. The second their set is finished, Bucky runs backstage. Y/N sits in the green room, anxiously fiddling with her thumbs.

“Y/N.” He smiles, breathless. She looks up at him, her face falling. Bucky’s heart sinks. He hates seeing her so upset. “Can I sit?” She nods. “Y/N, I-”

“Look Bucky.” She sighs, finally cutting him off. “You’re incredibly sweet and all, but I just can’t commit to a relationship right now.” She sighs. “You heard the story about my heartbreak, right?” He nods. “Well, I can’t put myself through that pain again. I can’t give my all to somebody and receive nothing in return, I’m sorry.”

“Y/N, he sounds like a dick. And I promise you, not everyone is like that.”

“It’s not just that.” She murmurs, staring down at the ground. “I know you’re a good person, Bucky. Fuck, I see it in you every day. You’re one of the sweetest guys I know, and I don’t want to think you’d ever hurt me like that. That’s why I’ve been pulling away from you, so neither of us get hurt. Yet, I hurt us both. Honestly, I think I’ve been in love with you ever since we met, and I do want to be with you. But what happens when this tour is over? When the fairytale is over, and we go back to our normal lives, whatever they are now? Sure, we’re musicians, but we come from two totally different worlds. And I don’t fit into your world.” She sighs. Bucky raises a brow, shuffling closer towards her. “Maybe Dylan’s right. Maybe I am just a bar singer.” Bucky gets up from his seat, kneeling in front of her. He takes her hands in his, rubbing his thumbs along her knuckles.

“Y/N. You are one of the most beautiful and talented people I’ve ever met. We could only dream of being able to control and entertain a crowd like you can. Especially tonight!” He insists. “And besides, there’s nothing wrong with being a bar singer, especially when they’re as good as you. Your ex has no idea what the fuck he’s talking about.” As she gazes into Bucky’s eyes, Y/N feels tears building in her own.

“I want to be with you more than anything. I just can’t. I can’t risk being hurt again.” She whispers. Bucky feels his heart breaking, but he knows he can’t force her to do anything. And so, he nods.

Suddenly, the door opens, and Natasha pops her head in. At first, Bucky expects her to say something about how they’re going out for dinner or something. Yet, as soon as she sees the serious look on Natasha’s face, Y/N frowns. “Nat? What’s going on?”

“Y/N, there’s someone here to see you. He insists he knows you, and even tried to bribe our door staff to let him into the venue. Says he won’t go until you hear him out.” Immediately, Bucky tenses from beside her, and Y/N’s stomach drops.

“Did he leave a name?” But she knows who it is before Natasha even confirms it.

“It’s Dylan.” Her entire body goes stiff. It feels like someone dumped a whole bucket of ice cold water all over her, plunging her into a horrible nightmare.

“Wait, Dylan as in ‘Letting You Down’ Dylan? Your ex who treated you like shit?” Bucky asks, and Y/N nods, still numb. “Where is he?”

“He’s in the dressing room. The guys just shoved him in there.”

“Oh, fuck.” Y/N hisses, already beginning to feel herself hyperventilate.

“Y/N, we can tell him to go.” Bucky offers. To his surprise, Y/N shakes her head.

“No. I need to do this. I need to tell him myself.” She gulps. Bucky can tell she’s absolutely terrified. “I might need some moral support, though.” She admits, her eyes glancing down at the floor. Bucky finds her hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“Of course.” He whispers.

When Y/N and the rest of the band enter the room, Dylan turns around. As soon as he sees Y/N, he grins. Immediately, Bucky hates him. His grin looks smug, and the way he looks at Y/N makes him feel sick. If he could, he’d punch that asshole right in his smug fucking face.

“What the hell are you doing here?” She gasps.

“Wow, I just didn’t realise you were serious about this whole thing!” Dylan muses, looking around the room. “When I saw you online and on TV, I knew I had to come see you…and talk about what happened. Tell you what, why don’t we go get some drinks or some dinner, and we can just…talk it out?” Dylan whispers, reaching out to stroke her arm. The same way he used to when he was trying to get back on her good side, hoping she’d ignore all the cruel things he’d say about her and her career. Reflexively, Y/N steps back, away from him.

“Oh, so you only care about her once she’s getting more attention?” Bucky demands, earning a sharp jab in the ribs from Natasha.

“Bucky.” she hisses.

“What? He doesn’t give a shit about her or her career at first, but when he sees how popular she is and how he’s probably being blasted all over social media for rightfully being called out, he suddenly cares?” Dylan scoffs, rolling his eyes.

“Buddy, this doesn’t concern you.” Y/N’s heart sinks. Bucky’s right. Dylan doesn’t care about her at all. He’s only here to save his ass.

“Actually, it concerns all of us, buddy. We’re her friends, and we actually give a shit about her, unlike you.” Bucky snaps back.

“Can we have some alone time now?” Dylan asks, his eyes narrowing as he looks at Bucky. For a moment, Y/N almost says yes, wanting to just get rid of him as soon as possible with no further trouble. That is, however, until she glances back, ready to tell the band to do as he asks. The entire band looks pissed off, but Bucky is seething. He stands with his arms folded as he glares at Dylan. They’re the ones who care about her and her career. Not Dylan. And then, Y/N realises what she has to do.

“No. They stay.” She states. Dylan’s brows furrow.

“But Y/N, sweetie-”

“Don’t call me that. You lost the right to call me that a long time ago. And you have no right to come here unannounced and start making demands, especially after what you did. I want them here, so they’re staying.” She folds her arms. “Now. What do you want?” When he sees he isn’t getting his way, Dylan splutters.

“I just don’t see why you had to make such a big deal out of it, that’s all! And besides, I was just thinking about calling you before I heard the song, anyway. It would be nice to talk again.”

“Oh, you were, were you? Well, you sure have impeccable timing, don’t you? And besides, I know that’s a lie because as far as I know, you were with your girlfriend last night. Have you told her you want to start talking to me again?”

“Y/N, come on, don’t be like that. I’m trying to apologise. You always were so dramatic. It’s obvious I didn’t mean everything I said.”

“And yet ‘sorry’ isn’t the first word that came out of your mouth.” She hears sniggering in the background, which only spurs her on further. “And it’s not being dramatic. It’s called standing up for yourself and realising that you’ve treated me like shit for as long as I can remember, and I’m tired of it. If you think I’m coming back to you so you can do it again, you’re dumber than I thought you were. So, you can take your apology and shove it up your ass.” Dylan’s eyes widen, and he splutters again. In a way, it’s funny seeing the man who treated her like shit be unable to handle her sticking up for herself. “Now, go.”

“I’d advise you listen to her and fuck off before we call security. Trust us, you don’t want that.” Sam warns. Dylan tries to argue back, but when he sees he isn’t getting anywhere, he groans, beginning to leave.

“Bitch.” He murmurs as he walks by. Bucky, Sam and Steve follow him out, making sure he leaves while Natasha stays with Y/N.

“That was incredible! You really gave that asshole what he deserved.” She grins. Y/N doesn’t feel incredible though. In fact, she feels like shit. After being on such a high from the concert and finally letting her emotions out in song, suddenly being confronted with Dylan and being reminded of just how little he cares about her is breaking her all over again. Her bottom lip trembles and her vision blurs. Shit.

“I’m sorry Nat, I-I have to go. I’ll be on the bus if you need me. I just. I need to be alone.” She stammers, her words coming out in a rush. She doesn’t even give Natasha time to reply before she hurriedly leaves the venue and climbs back onto the bus, crawling into her bunk and huddling into the corner. As soon as she knows it’s safe, her tears are unleashed, and she shakes as tears stream down her cheeks. She wraps her blanket around her, hoping it hides her from the world.

Y/N lays there for what feels like hours until the door to the bus opens again. “Who is it?” She calls, her voice croaky.

“It’s just me.” Bucky replies. As soon as she hears his voice, it feels like a weight has been lifted off of Y/N’s shoulders, and she lets out a breath of relief. “I know you said you want to be alone, but we just want to make sure that you’re okay.” She turns around, looking into the pair of blue eyes she knows so well. The pair belonging to the man she loves. When he sees her tear-stained face, Bucky sighs. “Oh, Y/N.” She holds out her arms, and without another word, Bucky climbs in beside her, wrapping his tattooed arms around her still shaking form.

He lets her cry into his chest for as long as she needs, rubbing her back and whispering comforting words into her ear. “It’s okay. He’s gone. We got rid of him.”

“I’m sorry.” She hiccups. Bucky looks down at her, frowning.

“Y/N, you have nothing to be sorry for.” Yet, she sniffles, nodding.

“I do. I care about you so much. You’re so kind to me, and I’d love to be with you. In all honesty, it’s all I’ve ever wanted. But I ruined everything between us because of him.”

“You haven’t ruined anything, sweetheart.” Bucky soothes. “You’ve been through a lot, and nobody would judge you for being wary about dating again.” He kisses her head, his stubble lightly grazing her skin. Y/N feels that same flutter in her stomach again, this time amplified. He finds her hand again, intertwining his calloused fingers with hers once more. He brings her hand to his lips, kissing it softly. “It’s going to be big and scary, but we can take things as slow as you want. All I want is for you to be happy and comfortable.” And as she looks back up at him, Y/N realises that he’s right. Maybe she shouldn’t be scared, and actually let herself be happy again, with someone like Bucky.

“Okay.” She nods. Bucky smiles, softly kissing her on the lips.

“How about I take you out tomorrow? Properly.”

“Where do you wanna go?” Bucky smiles, chuckling slightly.

“Well, we’re in New York, aren’t we? Like I said…I know a restaurant.”

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#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #rockstar!bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #Bucky Barnes x female reader #bucky x Female Reader #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #rockstar!bucky barnes #rockstar!bucky #marvel oneshot #marvel cinematic universe #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction

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wintersmetal · 10 months

Text

🎸 ᴡᴇ ᴀʟʟ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴀ ʀᴏᴄᴋꜱᴛᴀʀ | ʙᴜᴄᴋʏ

pairing: rockstar!Bucky Barnes x G/N!Reader

word count: 2.3K

summary: You’re a big fan of the Winter Soldier, a rockstar who just so happened to come to your local town. At the concert, though, flirty things begin to happen–and suddenly, you’ve gotten closer to the musician than any other fan

warnings/content: drinking [small mention a few times], flirting, long-haired bucky

note: hello, hello. this is my first time posting for the marvel fandom, so please be gentle if this doesn't seem entirely accurate. reblogs/likes and comments are greatly appreciated, and thank you for reading.

Bodies were pressed up against one another, surrounding the small elevated stage like moths to a lamp. Hands extended towards the stage, palms open and splayed to try and get a touch at the musicians. It was stuffy and cramped, and your drink did not seem to help cool you down. There you stood, though, too stubborn to move with the flood of people. You had pushed against what felt like a hoard of millions to get to this spot and you are not letting it go that easily.

You needed to see the infamous Winter Soldier up close and personal.

You didn’t expect him to come to this small of an area. You lived in a quaint town with not a lot of action–the most exciting attractions were the mall stocked with stores that were typically too far, and the bar you were currently standing in. When he had released the tour dates and areas, your eyes had honed in on the familiar name of the bar, followed by a date and a time–all three had seemingly fallen right into place in your schedule. Coupled with the fact that this was a free show, you had come to the bar extremely early.

Sure enough, other people had, too. You were determined to get front row,

though, and had even teamed up with a group of fellow fans in order to form an impenetrable wall and walk yourselves up to the front. That plan had worked in your favor. Now here you were, standing right where you wanted to be: front and center with a beer in your hand.

The stage of the bar was lit with no musicians present. However, you knew their

arrival would be any moment now. You tried to peek around the curtains but couldn’t make anything out of the shadows behind the fabric. You took a heavy swig of your beer, trying to keep yourself from dehydrating in the middle of the concert. Though, it probably wasn’t the best thing for you to be drinking.

Suddenly, the lights dimmed in the bar. The stage lights got brighter. You felt your heart racing in your chest. The beer felt colder. The room was tighter. Everyone began yelling and begging for the Winter Soldier to come out. You tried to drown out the high-pitched yells directly behind you by taking another sip of your beer, but the sound of you swallowing in your ears didn’t seem to cancel out the noise. You weren’t too annoyed by all the yelling, though. It’s common concert practice. You expected this bar to be pretty empty aside from the fans however, so the noise was a bit unfortunate.

Your heart skipped a beat as you saw the Winter Soldier walk out onto the stage. He was sporting his longer hair pulled back into a small half-up half-down hairstyle, and his beard was perfectly trimmed to be husky but presentable. His left hand was resting on the curvature of his guitar, while his right hand was holding the neck of the instrument. His fingers were placed between the third and fourth fret, playing with the strings and making sure he was comfortable with his placement. He wore a black tee with his logo on the right corner, a bright red star with a silver outline, and black jeans that flare at the bottom. To finish off the ‘rocker’ aesthetic, he had chunky black boots that stomped against the wooden stage with force.

He moved his left arm and ran his fingers along his chin, as if preparing himself for the concert. He looked rugged in the best way possible: a little darkness under his eyes from the light of the bar, strands of his hair resting right on the top of his shoulder, and his muscles flourishing under the fluorescent spotlight. He moved his hand away from his face and to the strings of the guitar, pulling a few and slapping them against his fingers.

Finally, he moved his hand up along the metal strings and down across all six of them while his right hand on the frets moved along, creating a pleasant chord that echoed through the bar. As the note reverberated through the speakers, the cheering only grew in volume, begging for the concert to start with this song or that song. You, on the other hand, kept your lips sealed and clung to your beer.

Time seemed to slow as the Winter Soldier looked down at the crowd. You were looking up at him, a smile tugging at your face. You couldn’t resist breaking out into an excited grin, something gleeful; you were a child in a candy shop looking at the newest sweets. Your toothy smile even reached the corners of your eyes, creating a small crease in the skin.

Suddenly, you were staring into ocean-blue eyes from where you were standing. You felt the beer slowly start to slip from your grip as you stared at the Winter Soldier. Something twinkled in his eyes as he stared right back at you. You felt pride in your chest as he began to smile at your expression. You were the reason he was smiling. Nobody else in that bar mattered except for you two.

It seems as though everyone else’s eyes were on you, too. You broke away from his stare and looked at the fan next to you, who simply stared at you in wonder that the entire scene had happened.

“Nobody’s ever made him smile like that.” The woman said, sipping her own beer. She held out her beverage for a toast, to which you happily clinked your half-empty bottle against hers. “Congrats.”

“I highly doubt that,” you replied. “I’m sure he’s smiled plenty of times.”

“Not like that, honey.” The woman laughed to herself and turned her head toward the stage, cheering on the Winter Soldier like normal.

You stood there, listening to your own wonder in your head. You were the first time he’s smiled ‘like that’. ‘Like that’: that phrase repeated throughout your head. Surely it was the fan trying to get into your head, but the thought of you being the reason why he smiled the way he did was enough to set your heart ablaze. It made your hands feel fuzzy and your smile doubled in size.

You proceeded to keep this grin throughout the whole concert, going against your own vow to stay silent during the music. You began to sing along to some of your favorite songs as you watched the Winter Soldier play, mesmerized by the way he worked his hands along the guitar. It was truly something different, seeing the musician play in-person and this up close: you got to see the sweat bead against his brow, hear his voice much clearer and crisper, and feel the way his eyes lingered over you each time he finished a song.

His gaze made you shrink in on yourself just a bit, but it was the best feeling to wash over you in ages. It was like the warmth of the bar was merely a candle flame compared to the heat growing in your chest. On top of all of the gazes you two made at each other, he made a few obvious winks and flirtatious whispers in-between songs. The one that set you on fire was when he finished the second-to-last song: he pressed his lips against the microphone as he stopped his singing, almost like he was kissing it, and looking directly at you. To anyone else, this was just part of the rockstar act. To you and your imagination, though, it was a way of him saying he wanted to kiss you. You chose to believe your imagination, unable to swallow down the desire in your throat.

Once the concert ended, you were the first to move away from the stage and out of the crowd. You decided that you needed to sit down and take a breather. It was swelteringly hot in the bar and you knew that if you looked at the Winter Soldier any longer, you would collapse from the heat in your chest and heart.

You looked over and saw him greeting his fans, signing autographs and taking photos with them. You smiled to yourself. Something about him going from this tough rockstar to a softie made your heart burn. You turned toward the bartender and asked for another beer. You paid for your tab and took the beer in your hand, the cold condensation of the bottle cooling you off.

You kept your gaze off the crowd of fans and instead began chatting up the bartender who returned the conversation with ease. It was nice to talk to someone who wasn’t a fan and wouldn’t feed into your desires. Said desires began to dissipate as you came to your senses and sipped on your cold beer.

“Is this seat taken?” A voice cut through the long conversation you and the bartender were having. You looked over and felt your heart race.

The Winter Soldier was standing next to the empty chair beside you, one hand leaning against the back of the barstool. The other was running through his hair, wiping the sweat off his brow.

“No, not at all.” You looked back to the bartender who winked at you. “Um, hi.”

“Hi.” The Winter Soldier ordered a drink and turned the stool to face you. “No need to be so shy.”

You felt a blush spread across your cheeks. “I’m not trying to be.”

“Names’s James, but most of my friends call me Bucky.” He offered his hand. “You are?”

You stated your name with a small hesitance in your voice. You couldn’t believe this was happening.

“What a nice name.” Bucky smiled at you. He turned his attention to the bartender who gladly offered him his drink.

You sat there a bit awkwardly as he took a sip of his drink. You didn’t know what to say or do in the presence of your biggest celebrity crush. He was eyeing you up again, this time through the corners of his eyes. Accompanying this look was a smug smirk, something that made your heart flutter.

“It was a really good set, Bucky.” You felt a bit weird calling him by his name, but he seemed to glow as you did.

“You think so?” He put his drink down on top of the countertop and fully faced you. “That means a lot, coming from you.”

You began to glow under his praise. “Um–”

“There you go, getting all shy.” He laughed. “It’s cute.”

You felt your face fully burn bright red. You didn’t know what to do, so you just laughed at his comment and took a heavy swig of your beer. “Thank you?”

“Why is it a question?” He leaned closer to you, and you noticed the height difference between the two of you.

“I’m just–” You looked away from him and cleared your throat. “I’m really nervous.”

“Is it because you’re a fan?” Bucky took a sip of his drink. “Because, in all honesty, I shouldn’t be talking to you like this.”

You perked up a bit at that. “Why’s that?”

“Because what if you fall in love with me?” He smirked. “Plus, all the paparazzi and flashing lights. You know, the usual.”

“The usual is me falling in love with you?” You choked out.

“No, sweetheart.” He put his hand on top of yours and squeezed it gently. “You’re adorable.”

You swallowed. “Ah.”

He laughed yet again, this time with his whole chest. It was comforting and warm, a side of him you got to see that maybe nobody else gets to. You felt special.

“Say, why don’t I give you my number?”

“Huh?” You looked at him in surprise. “I really don’t know–”

“Do you not want to?” His tone got a bit more serious, and he looked at you with soft but determined eyes. “Just say the word and I’ll leave you be.”

“Why me?” You asked. “That’s all I want to know.”

“I thought you were incredibly pretty. On top of that, I want to get to know you as Bucky and not my stage name. You know me as the ‘Winter Soldier’, but something in you wants to know Bucky, right?”

He read your mind. You nodded your head and smiled at him. “Yeah, I’d like to know Bucky.”

“Good.” He put his hand out as a silent question for your phone.

You pulled your phone out of your back pocket and handed it to him unlocked. He tapped around a few times before finally typing in his number. He handed your phone back to you.

“Make sure you text me, okay?” Bucky smiled at you and polished off his drink. “I’ll be waiting.” He sounded eager.

You couldn’t help but grin like you did during the concert. You tried to hide it with the bottle of your beer but couldn’t stop it from poking out behind the bottle. You nodded your head, giddy and excited like a kid in a candy store.

“Of course, Bucky.”

“I love the way you say my name,” Bucky replied, standing up from the barstool. “I could listen to you say it all day.”

With that last statement, he left the bar through the back door. You watched him leave, waving to him as he waved to you. You sat on your stool for a few more seconds before getting up, placing your half-empty bottle on top of the countertop. You pulled out your phone and typed in ‘James’ at first, but no contact popped up. You then tried ‘Bucky,’ and there he was.

You shot him a small text saying ‘Hello’ with your name in it. As you went to put your phone back into your pocket, you felt it vibrate against your palm.

‘Glad you decided to get to know me. ;)’

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