It Takes Two—(Bucky Barnes x Reader)
Summary: It was safe to say that you and James Buchanan Barnes didn’t get along, and, in truth, that was putting it mildly. A single disastrous date with him had left you wanting absolutely nothing to do with him, and it seemed that the feeling was mutual. That is until your best friend (and sneaky matchmaker) Steve Rogers brings you both together again by taking dance lessons at your studio.
Pairing: dancer!Bucky x reader
Word Count: 5.7 K
Warnings: bad language because I’m a terrible person, mentions of drinking/being drunk, a tiny sprinkle of angst if you squint?,
A/N: This is my VERY LATE submission for @after-avenging-hours‘ August AU Writing Challenge. I’m so sorry this took me so long to post! This was supposed to be a one-shot but because I have no self-control and too many ideas we now have a series. A special thank you to @winterbuttmunch for being my Beta. You should go and check out their stuff because it’s fucking fantastic.
Header/Moodboard created by me!
It was a gorgeous mid-October morning in Brooklyn. Autumn had finally decided to arrive, hitting the borough fast and hard and bringing some much needed relief from the blistering heat of summer. Oddly, New York City seemed more alive now that summer had sung its swan song. The sudden change in the weather had prompted a hastier, more drastic change in scenery, and it seemed like overnight every tree in New York had become a bright beacon of color. Summer’s shady emerald canopies had transformed into a sun-warmed mosaic of scarlet, russet, and gold—the falling leaves swaying in the wind and carpeting the ground in a sea of fire.
Even the human element of autumn had you drowning in joy and nostalgia. Shop windows were decorated with pumpkins, colored ribbons, and the occasional bit of burlap for that rustic feel. A few of your neighbors in your building had even covered their doors with Halloween wreaths and cobwebs in the spirit of the season. Bakeries were heavy with the rich, heady scents of cinnamon and nutmeg—their tendrils licking through the air and drawing in ravenous customers searching for something sweet.
Yes, it was definitely a magnificent morning. The type of morning that made you want to pour yourself a cup of coffee, melt into your couch, and just lounge in your pajamas all day with a good book. Maybe even curl up in your favorite old armchair by the windows, soaking up the rays of pale autumn sunlight as they filtered softly through the glass. Either way, you’d fully intended on being lazy. It was one of your days off; you had no errands to run or people to see, and days like that were few and far between.
Steve Rogers, on the other hand, had other ideas.
Since moving to the New York hellscape, Steve had become your closest friend and simultaneously the biggest pain in the ass you’d ever met. The very first time you’d ran into him, you’d been getting your mailbox squared away on the bottom floor. It was only your second day in the city, and your nerves were fried from the move and the sheer amount of unpacking you still had to do. He’d strolled up to the mailboxes with a half-smile tugging at the corner of his lips, his baby blues meeting yours for a split second. The man looked like a Greek god.