Bucky Barnes Oneshots

hang on (smut, fluff)

"James Buchanan!" You shouted, looking up at where he was perched on his porch railing. The neighbors thought you to be very unladylike, screaming like a boy.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" The boy asked, taking a drag from his cigarette.

"I need your help."

.

What precisely you needed help with, was getting through your family holiday.

Your parents, your uncles and aunts, your grandparents, siblings, and cousins, all expected you to show up with a date.

You were of the age where they called you a spinster or a harlot, seeing you without a boyfriend. You'd been teased, and in a lapse in judgement, your sibling had snapped and announced that you did in fact, have a boyfriend.

Instead of helping, this lie only got you in trouble, as now you were expected to show up to the holiday with a boyfriend to show off.

You had decided you may as well bring home a boy that would ensure nobody ever bothered you about dating again— someone who would raise the hair on the back of your grandparents' necks.

That's when James Buchanan Barnes came to mind. He was infamous in your town, a greaser, walking around in white tees, leather jackets, and a cigarette between his lips.

Rumor was he'd knocked up half the town— but you had yet to see a child to prove it. Either way, he was rough around the edges, and everyone knew it.

The tough greaser was bound to startle your relatives, and he was perfect for your date. You'd gone to school together, knowing each other, but never really being friends. In your better-behaved days, he'd gotten under your skin, sticking a flask in your bag while trying to evade the school authorities.

He admired you ever since you never gave it back.

.

"You need my help?" James grinned at you, swinging off the railing and dropping to the grass.

"I've got a proposition for you."

You walked across the grass, coming to stand in front of him. Stormy grey eyes bore into yours, interested in what the sweet town girl had to offer.

"I need you to be my date to my family holiday."

James started laughing, certain he'd misheard you. He couldn't imagine why you'd be asking him on a date.

"Why?" He finally asked when he realized you were serious.

"Because my family... they're insufferable and all they care about is that I've got a nice boy to settle down with. I want them to leave me alone," you confessed.

"You want me to scare your family."

"In a manner of speaking."

He shook his head, a grin pulling at his pretty lips.

"Aren't you scared of me?" James asked, leaning against the railing in front of you. You shook your head, meaning it. You doubted the rumors that he was truly in a biker gang. As far as you knew, or were concerned, he was just a mechanic.

"So, what do I get in return for this?" His eyes slowly trailed down your body, admiring you in cropped pants, a button down, and a jacket, pulled tightly around you from the night's chill.

You watched him blow smoke through his full lips, studying his stormy eyes. They held a glint of mischief, planting seeds of mistrust. He was infamous, and surely not for no reason.