#i mean i appreciate fashion but the gala is just another silly out of touch rich thing i feel nothing for

[bbbarneswrites]

Lovers In The Night

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Having secret late night encounters with a person who tried to murder you isn’t a smart choice, Bucky knows. Doesn’t he?  Genre: Romance/fluff Rating: T Warnings: Swearings, sexy times 4,807 words

Notes: Hello! I’m finally delivering a full fic on the assassin!reader headcanons I posted a while back. It didn’t come out as I wanted but I finally wrote it! I made a Pinterest board and a Spotify playlist based on these two so if you guys want I can post it later. AT LAST, her gala dress is a Spring 1994 Versace wore by Helena Christensen (that my fashion lover ass really needed to bring out). Hope you enjoy it! Happy reading. <3

It’s way past midnight when Bucky finally steps into the threshold of his Brooklyn apartment, a subconscious relieved sigh escaping from his lips. 

Freaking peace, at last. 

Following his daily routine after a day of work back at the Tower, he drops the set of keys into the bowl beside his door, toes off the black, heavy combat boots, and hungs up his leather jacket to the hallway wall before typing away the keycode to disable Stark’s high-end security system before it goes off. The place completely dark by now, save for the slits of light coming from his poorly illuminated street. 

He does a quick sweep through his living room just to indulge his long-date habits.

Everything looks the same, pretty much just like he left back in the morning—except for one little thing. 

Bucky Barnes most definitely doesn’t own a pair of Brian Atwood leather heels. 

Though he sure as hell knows someone who owns, even if she most definitely shouldn’t be around enough for him to know that. And so, he can’t help but grin at the sight. 

With silent footsteps towards his bedroom, Bucky takes his time in stretching his back, muscles aching over a day of heavy training with new recruits and joints popping way too uncomfortably for an enhanced body like his. He takes his hair out of its ponytail and slips off the sweaty Avengers’ navy hoodie. He walks all the way down and tells himself that there is no ulterior motive to this. 

No way. 

The spicy smell of red wine welcomes him but Bucky isn’t quite interested in that, though he admits a drink or two seems like a good idea after a tiring day. 

What holds his attention, however, is the girl lying on his bed with his cat. 

“Oh. Would you look at that, Al? Daddy’s home!” She beams, sitting on her knees on the large bed. Alpine’s little face cuddled to her own, a sly smile curls up her lips. “Say hi to daddy, Alpine!” 

Huffing out a quiet laugh, Bucky shakes his head in disbelief. 

Right there is the girl who actively tried to murder him months ago under someone else’s name. In his home, looking nothing but cozy and comfortable in a little black dress, bare feet and red lips, glass of wine resting on the bedside table. 

Life has a funny way of mocking him. 

“Now, that’s a sweet sight to come home to, huh?” Bucky snorts. There’s no hesitance as he takes his usual spot on the bed beside her, groaning tiredly once sat down after a heavy training day. “Are you pouring me a glass of that wine or what?” 

Watching her reach out for the bottle with attentive eyes, Bucky can’t help but smirk at the pout forming on her lips. 

“There’s no food in your fridge, you know. Nada.” She says, a frown between her perfectly lined eyebrows as she hands over the half filled wine glass to him. “The least you can do right now is order me some food. That’s no way to treat a guest, Bucky Barnes.” 

Drinking down the expensive wine that his unexpected visitor nicked from the bar’s cupboard, Bucky takes his time on watching her from up close, barely fighting a full smile at the sight. 

Having lost count on how many times he’s caught her lurking around his windows for Alpine, and realizing how different this is from the one time she welcomed him home with a kick to his guts, Bucky doesn’t really mind having her over. Funny enough, she looks like she belongs there. With her feet up in the air and belly down to the mattress, she’s got her chin resting on a hand, elbow propped up with mischievous eyes staring right back at him. 

Red lips, a very likely stolen designer dress and smooth skin all over—a girl who fully knows that she’s got him, his attention and whatever else she might want for the night. 

Not that Bucky is ready to give in that information so easily now. 

“Yeah, because you’re a regular guest here, baby girl.” Bucky huffs out a laugh, gulping down the last sips of his wine under her (and Alpine’s) eyes. “What are you doin’ here, anyway? No rich white men for you to exterminate tonight?” 

“That’s actually sweet of you. I am a regular guest here.” She grins. And with a mindless shrug, there’s her fingertips reaching out to wipe clean the corners of his lips. “And no, no white men tonight. Except for you, actually, but I’ve already had my shot with you and it didn’t work, remember?” 

Wine glass back to the bedside table, Alpine now nuzzled softly against his feet, Bucky finally lets himself sink into the bed. 

It’s been just a few hours and his sheets already smell like her. 

“Might be an amnesiac assassin but sure as hell can’t forget you, doll.” He chuckles, finally closing his eyes with a tired sigh escaping from his lips. “I’d appreciate not having to defend myself from any murder attempts today, though. I’m beat.” 

Silence falls for a brief moment. She hums. And Bucky immediately knows that she’s up to something. 

“Poor daddy. Right, Alpine?” She drawls, laughter in her voice as she lifts up to sit on her knees again. Though his eyes are closed, Bucky anticipates the nudge to his left arm by her movements. “Turn around, Bucky.” 

His eyes shot open, a grin now curling up his lips as she stares expectedly at him. 

“What?” 

She scoffs. Alpine gets up from his spot by his legs to jump over her thighs. 

“Just turn around—no questions.” 

With a pretend suspicious glance at her, Bucky starts to move.

“Don’t pull your shit on me.” 

A glare. 

“I will if you don’t shut up.” 

Complying to her wish with a huff, Bucky finally turns his body around. With his stomach now down to the bed, he lets himself relax once again. Usually, he’d be way more hesitant to do this, baring himself out to someone to a point where all his scars and marks are out in the open. 

But at the same time, it’s her. 

Given who she is and the lines of her job, he figures it can’t be that bad, right? She’s seen and definitely has done way way worse, if the damage she left him with four months ago is something to go by. So when her hands make their way to his back, fingers brushing and just lightly pressing over his shoulder blades in a soft motion, Bucky shuts down any sort of worry to enjoy his girl’s touches. 

“How was work today? Beat up any recruits?” She asks, smirking amused over the low but pained groans occasionally escaping from his lips. “Had another one-off with Tony Stark? Love that guy, by the way.” 

“You keep sayin’ that. Way to hurt a man’s ego, doll.” Bucky scoffs. When she laughs, he holds back a smile of his own. “Yeah, got to beat up some recruits today. Good day.” 

“You’re mean.” She mumbles. Hands stopping just over her shoulders, a little sigh coming from her lips and a second little nudge to his arm, there’s her second wish. “Turn around.” 

There’s no resistance or silly jokes as Bucky turns to his back again. No words shared as she throws a leg over him, straddling his hips with an ease that can only belong to an fellow assassin. And as Bucky’s fingertips make its way over her exposed thighs, he can’t help but feel glad for the prettiest view after a hard day. 

But then—her lips are meeting his own and he swears it’s heaven. 

By the time she pulls away, breathless with smudged lips, his hands are way past the hem of her dress and tiny bruises are forming a line from the top of his chest to the base of his neck, matching deviously to the pink-ish beard burns littering her collarbones. 

Coming back to reality again, his next words pull out a laugh from her. 

“I can work with that.”

Evening of a normal Wednesday night and the fancy rooftop ballroom is crowded all over with every rich, pompous, snobby person of Manhattan thanks to the one and only, Tony Stark. 

Usually, the Avengers aren’t required to do this kind of thing. 

It’s too much of a risk, they aren’t exactly the most welcoming and normal bunch and there’s always a high chance that someone will snap at a member of the team for a past misgiving over all the world threatening situations handled in the past. Bucky would know. He’s had his fair share of people snapping at him for his past, something that he couldn’t care less about by now, much to their dismay. 

That doesn’t mean he’s jumping at every opportunity to show his mug at Stark’s galas. From the expensive suits he has to wear, going to the tasteless weird drinks and all the way to the small portions of food, Bucky’d rather just be home with Alpine. 

Today is different. 

There’s no plausible explanation to understand how he knows she’s there from the very moment he steps into the room. 

Maybe it’s soldier intuition, given her eyes follow his every movement. Maybe it’s just familiarity because he knows that walk, he knows that body better than anyone. 

And knowing who she is, Bucky most definitely shouldn’t be surprised by her presence in a room filled with superheroes and enhanced individuals that could easily find out everything about her and what she does for a living. He’s also very well aware that he should probably tell someone but this is probably the most fun he’ll ever have in an event like this. 

Walking over to her table, where she’s graciously sitting like she really belongs to the seat, Bucky almost fails to hold back a smirk. 

The card in front of her champagne glass says her name for the night. 

Ms. Helena Christensen. 

A silent request for dance and glare from her table companions later, the dancefloor is theirs. Hand in hand to each other, a slow song leading the moves. 

“You look lovely in velvet. Boyfriend material.” She teases, lips pursed over holding back a laugh. An unimpressed look later, a giggle finally escapes from her lips. “Where’s it from? Hugo Boss or Tom Ford? Bet all designers fought over to dress your pretty face.” 

“Funny today, aren’t we?” Bucky huffs. Despite his jab, there’s no malice to his face when he shrugs smugly. “Does it matter what I’m wearing? I mean, look at you. If you were hoping to fly under the radar, you’re failing beautifully, baby doll.” 

Eyes brimming mischief locked to his own for a whole night, Bucky knows that’s not the case. 

“Maybe that was my intention, have you thought about that?” She smiles sweetly, her hand on his shoulder now sliding up to cup his neck. “How else you’d find me in a room full of snobby New Yorkers?” 

“Are you kiddin’ me? I’d find you anywhere.” He scoffs, a knowing smile pulling on his lips when she glares at him. “You look beautiful.” 

It’s true. Under the crystal chandeliers of the ballroom, any guess can easily say that black is her color. The dress fits her body just right, double straps leading to a deep neckline, pieces of soft fabric held back together by gold, shiny pins over her ribs. And with his hands gently trailing down her back throughout the song, Bucky can feel slivers of her warm skin burning his fingertips. 

It feels like the nicest kind of torture—if such a thing is even possible. 

“I know.” She says, eyes rolling in a way that shows her playfulness. Then, leaning just a tiny bit closer to him, her lips are almost brushing his own. “You don’t look so bad too, Mr. Barnes. Shame I can’t mess up this hair later.” 

Feeling his chest flare over her words, Bucky feels lingering eyes upon them. It’s a mix with curiosity, envy and distaste, though neither he or his partner are too worried about those in the moment. And okay, he knows that the team will pester him with undying questions after, but he’s had his fair share of lies to cover up his tracks. So he’s good. She’s good. 

The song changes. And as the upbeat rhythm takes the room, Bucky frowns. 

“How come you’re here, Ms. Christensen?” He asks quietly, eyes locked to her own as their slow pace continue. “I’ll bet ya one of Stark’s cars that Helena Christensen doesn’t look like this.” 

“Oh, you know me. Heard that a fancy shindig would be happening.” She shrugs, a little grin forming on her lips, voice light as she feigns nonchalance. “It felt like a good opportunity to work out a socialite’s vintage dress for a night.” 

Bucky squints. 

“That’s all?” 

An innocent smile. 

“That’s all, Bucky.” 

Before his mind can even think of a proper comeback, the feel of her soft lips surprises him. 

Her body is pressed against his, arms thrown over his shoulders and with his hands squeezing her hips just enough to make her smile against his mouth, Bucky doesn’t want to think of a proper comeback. And then there’s this brief second when she slowly slides her hands through his chest, kisses moving to the shy of his jaw, he spots an unusual commotion behind them. 

The music stops altogether, so worried murmurs and gasps take over. A white-headed man falls to the floor. A rush of people towards his table, the team included, so just like that Bucky is being dragged away from her by Sam. 

It just happens to be her table, as well.

It isn’t until hours later that they get the full report once back at the Stark Tower. Businessman Richard Miller dead within fifteen minutes due digoxin toxicity. 

And oh, Bucky’s bike is stolen in the same night.

The common factor between Bucky Barnes and Mr. Miller? 

Ms. Helena Christensen.

Boisterous electronic music blasts through the speakers of the nightclub, blinding colorful lights filling the room as Bucky sits in the VIP area of the place.

Out of all his missions as an Avenger, this is definitely the worst one.

With a light headache forming on the back of his skull, Bucky unwaveringly stares the crowded dancefloor, blue eyes right where his target of the night is chatting up with a short haired redhead woman. This kind of thing isn’t his expertise anymore, he’s a sniper for all intents and purposes, so he can’t help but scowl like Clint’s five year-old while watching the young man charm his way into a pair of pretty legs with some ego filled words.

For anyone else but him—and maybe Steve, the whole thing doesn’t seem so bad. It’s an easy mission, right in their backyard, that just happen to offer some fun as well, given the privileged seats, free drinks, food and music that could possibly land them another kind of night out.

But much to Bucky Barnes dismay, all of the benefits are useless to him.

So now there he goes, taking over a mess that is supposed to be Daredevil’s in the first place, bored to death just to grab intel over a trafficking case.  

A relieved sigh almost escapes from Bucky’s lips as he watches his target wave to one of his bodyguards. He knows what’s up next. A brief pep talk, bodyguard escorts his night date to a more private location, bodyguard keeps the door and then leads the date out when everything’s called and done for. It won’t be too fun to interrupt their activities but it sure as hell will be easier, since ignorance to your surroundings is a dangerous bliss.

Knowing every single bit of the club’s blueprint by heart, Bucky knows exactly where to go.

A little too predictable, actually. Rich young boys with gift businesses and cliché offices to charm girls, but once again, it makes everything easier and he’s not one to complain. 

Minutes later, down the familiar hallway he goes.

The plan is running smoothly until Bucky spots the bodyguard passed out by the door.

Cursing quietly under his breath, gun in hand, he bursts through the door.

A familiar face under crimson red bangs smiles at him.

Bucky frowns.

“What the hell.”

Leaning over the table and typing away on the target’s computer with no care in the world, she barely bats an eye to the gun pointed point blank to her forehead.

“Bucky! What a surprise!” She beams exaggeratedly, holding back a grin over the astonishment on his face, fingers briefly hovering over the keyboard. “I was wondering how long you’d take to come in.”

“What the hell are you doing here?” Bucky huffs. Holstering his gun again with slow steps towards her, adrenaline flares in his chest with her mere sight. “You here to kill this guy?”

With a huff and an amused glance his way, she doesn’t seem to care too much about any possible risks they might be facing with their little impromptu mid-mission affair.

“He definitely deserves it but I’m not killing him tonight.” She shrugs, a little grin curling on her lips as she stops typing, standing up tall again. “A little birdie told me that an Avenger would be scooping some intel in this club, thought I could offer some help.”

Pausing for a brief moment to finally take in the scene before him, Bucky can’t help but laugh.

It’s absurd, really.

Under the dim lights of the office, the redhead seems to know her way around. A flash-drive connected to the computer, the target is blissfully unaware of his visitors, completely passed out in a leather couch by the wall. And despite the poisonous syringes peeking out of her designer bag, she seems to be at her best form. A black dress that matches his own shirt, leather boots that makes her look taller, collarbones on display over the low neckline.

Bucky doesn’t resist walking over to wrap a gentle arm around her waist, pulling her body closer just enough so his lips are pressing a light kiss to her cheek.

“Hi.”

Though barely sparing a proper glance to his face, Bucky definitely spots her pursed lips holding back a grin.

“Everything you need will be here.” She pulls the drive from the computer in a quick move, pressing her chest to his own to shove the device in the backpocket of his pants. “All the deals and some evidence that can help build a case. He’s got a container with enhanced girls coming in next Friday, by the way, so watch out for that.”

She pats his bottom. Bucky hums.

And with just a few inches separating their faces, tiny details are finally noticed.

A darker shade to her eyes, well applied make-up to the perfect spots and a short cut bright red wig covering her hair are just enough to fly under clueless eyes. But not his. Seventy years of experience and training, Bucky knows better than to fall for something this simple.

“Can’t believe it was you all this time.” He huffs a laugh, vibranium fingers reaching for the fake strands of red hair framing her cheeks. “How the hell did I not recognize you?”

“You’re so cute.” She hums, face leaning into his palm as his fingertips brush over her jaw, offering a plain glare that almost makes him snicker. “You only recognize me when I want you to recognize me, Bucky.”

A smirk growing on his lips, Bucky nods towards the couch.

“What did you do to him?”

“Black Henbane.” She says. An oblivious stare from Bucky gets a playful roll of her eyes. “He’s sedated.”

“Is that what you used on the Miller guy?” He asks, hands sliding down to squeeze her hips with a smile. “By the way, good job on stealing my Harley. She’s named after you so I hope she’s being taken care of.”

As she closes her arms around his neck, fingertips playing under the collar of his shirt, the moment doesn’t feel like a mission at all. And yeah, it might really something to worry about because Bucky doesn’t slip like this very often. Yet—he’s walking through all the red lights, decades old skills becoming momentarily useless, almost forgetting the ulterior motive to the boring nightclub visit with a single look from his redheaded girl friend.

There’s not enough words to express how thankful Bucky is over Sam staying back in the van outside instead of joining him.

“Richard got Foxgloves. They’re my favorite.” She shrugs lightly, face closing into a playful scowl upon her little smirk. “And I’m not a monster, okay? I’m taking care of your Harley just fine. I can ride her better, by the way.”

He chuckles.

“Bet you can.”

A tug to her waist, Bucky searches for her lips.

That’s all it takes for the redhead to step back from his hold, a nonchalant smile drawing her mouth as she turns back to the computer again. There isn’t an anxious bone in her body while she erases traces of her presence in the room, closing files and open tabs, deleting search histories, to then finally turning off the machine.

It’s a pretty sight to watch.

Off goes the short wig that gets folded and somehow shoved into her small bag. Eyes clearer without faux lenses. Careful fingertips over cheekbones wiping away a layer of make-up.  

When Bucky is least expecting, his dazed eyes still taking in the small but rather significant change to his girl, her hands are cupping his bearded jaw and her lips are pressing his own in a full, way too intense kiss that makes his chest burn eager.

When she pulls away, pressing a last but soft kiss to the corner of his mouth, Bucky knows he might be in for a good night.

“Let’s go home, yeah?”

Late night to a random Saturday, the Avengers’ compound gym is nearly empty save from a few imsoniac souls that make Bucky some company. 

Despite knowing this isn’t his best night, there’s little care to it. 

After fighting half of the team to be left behind from a private karaoke night at a random bar exclusively rented for them, Bucky doesn’t really mind having some time to himself. Training out of his own will to purely to keep up with his shape does wonders to his mind and ego, and in a night where he’s likely to either be home with his cat or simply downing drinks that barely makes him wince, he’d rather be working out his stamina instead. 

In another perspective, she can be easily added as a third reason for his absence. 

Under complete radio silence, Bucky can’t help but let his eyes wander around his surroundings every once in a while, always looking for a familiar frame in every mission assigned, every place visited, every room stepped. 

At this point, even a random girl in the gym looks like her.

It’s turning into a subconscious behavior, to wonder where she might be, the things she might be doing, who’s keeping her company if there’s really someone. It’s easy enough to make him riled up that point, so working out it is. 

With a few minutes into midnight, Bucky is dropping the worn bandages into his bag, quickly throwing it over shoulder before making his way to the locker room. Silent steps over the muffled pop music coming from outside, dirty clothes left in a hasty mess on the bench outside his stall, he lets himself relax under the warm water. 

Until it suddenly snaps open. 

The soldier’s insticts take over instantly so Bucky acts before he can even think. 

Twisting his body in a quick move, the vibranium arm expertly shoves his intruder against the wall, pinning them to the cold tiles by a hand around their throat. Just then—a familiar voice breaks out the tense reverie. 

“Ouch.” She mutters, scrunching her eyes in pain for a brief moment before a smile spreads over her lips. “That’s what I get for trying to pay an impromptu work visit.” 

Recognition breaking through his tough mindset, Bucky’s hand relaxes as a heavy sigh escapes from his lips. 

“What the fuck, doll. Jesus.” He grumbles, a disgruntled look taking over his features with a frown deepening his eyebrows. Upon his intruder’s casual smile, Bucky sighs heavily. “You want to die under my hands or what?” 

“I’d rather die under you in different circustances, to be honest.” She quips, playfully squeezing his wrist before pulling it away to intertwine their fingers. “Did you notice me working out with you back there?”

“I did. You’re slacking on your punches.” Bucky grins, tugging her to stand underneath the shower. “Why didn’t you call me? It’d be fun to spar with you, y’know. I can go easy.” 

A smirk curling on her lips, she pushes away his hand and takes a short step back from the shower head. Even when Bucky thinks to be already very acquainted to her tricks and schemes, his chest still flares in hot anticipation. Damp hair pushed back with a nonchalant move, her fingers slide down through her neck before grasping the front zipper of a black sports top that matches to a pair of leggings. 

It takes a blink of an eye until the wet fabric is thrown over the glass doors.

“I had other plans.”

Bucky’s eyes flick down.  

“This is your other plans.”

She huffs.

“Obviously.”

Eyes up again.

“Not that I’m complaining but what exactly are you doin’ here, baby girl?” He asks, lips struggling to hold back a smile. “This place is a fortress, how did you get in?”

“I was allowed to.” She beams. Paying little attention to the super soldier’s confused glance, her sudden excitement carries on. “Tony Stark is really easy on the eyes, isn’t he? Very sugar daddy, love him.”

Only barely taking note to her little Stark jab, Bucky instantly feels low-key torn between apprehension and expectancy. Surely, it doesn’t mean that.

Right?

“Yeah, yeah, you say that all the time.” Bucky scoffs, fingers tightening around her hips as he squints in pretend suspicion, clear curiosity laced to his words. “You were allowed to? What did you do?”

An impish smile grows on her lips and with arms loosely wrapping up his neck, his fingertips down to her hips playing with the waistband of her soaked pants, she takes a step closer until Bucky’s frame is just inches towering over her own. 

“Tony went all the way down for little ol’ me.” She hums, eyes falling shut with no care in the world as the warm water engulfs their bodies. “He anonymously hired Foxglove to kill an ass goverment secretary or whatever. I looked him up, he’s dirty.” 

His hands halt. 

“What?” 

Her eyes open. 

“Yeah. But that doesn’t really matter now because he just wanted to talk.” She shrugs, now with a full smirk taking over under Bucky’s stunned silence. “We talked. He proposed to me. And now I’m officially an agent for the Avengers’ back-up team.” 

It only takes a second until Bucky breaks out of his bewilderment. 

With a giggle that sounds like music to his ears, eager hands are wrapping her thighs around his waist. There’s a hint of a smile against his mouth that Bucky takes on with a rousing kiss, warm, slippery skin close together and pressed against the tiles. No worries on who might walk in to the scene, time slows down for their enjoyment between a sigh or two. 

The water is chilly enough to make shivers rise as they break apart. Short, soft kisses to her jaw and neck, content muffled hums that he smiles at. 

Nothing but heavy glances are exchanged as she turns off the shower or as Bucky kneels down to push away the soaked leggings or as towels are wrapped around each others bodies. Guilty smiles when stepping out of the locker room together under curious eyes. 

Walking down the hallway into the compound, Bucky tugs his teammate closer. 

“C’mon, baby doll.” He mumbles, pressing a light kiss to her forehead as his left arm wraps her shoulders against his side. “I’ll show you my room here.” 

His girl grins. 

“You mean my room?”

A loud explosion shakes an empty building in Croatia.

Over the comms unstable channel, barely audible with a loud rustle, Sam Wilson groans.

“Has anyone seen Barnes and Fox?”

A sharp noise pierces through the earbuds and the voices are clearer now.

Zippers closing, muffled laughs and sudden moans. Sam groans louder, his face twisting in disgust amid the team’s joint protests—surprise, reprehension, amusement.

And just then Foxglove’s voice breaks through a second explosion.

“We’re coming!”

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