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Some Friendly Competition [BUCKY BARNES X READER]

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader // Avengers x Reader 

Summary: The first time you ever interact with Bucky Barnes is over a game of beer pong. 

Word count: ~1.7k

Contains: just some good ole fluff and a bit of PG-13 language

A/N: My first fic/post on this blog! I really hope you guys enjoy this, and let me know your thoughts/give me some feedback! Requests are open, so feel free to send me some ideas or just say hi!  

 –––––

“Friday, chill sesh in the main apartment,” Tony calls out as you guys walk out of the meeting, “I’m gonna dock your pay if you miss it!” 

 –––––

The hangout is already in full swing when you arrive. 

“Lady Y/N!” Thor booms when you walk in, raising his drink to you, and you wave back laughing. Tony’s outside at the bar next to the pool, playing bartender. You walk over. 

“What can I get for you, kid?” He asks, throwing a dishrag over his shoulder. 

“Surprise me, old man,” you shoot back. 

After grabbing your drink (he made you a Margarita), you head to the ping pong table at the other side of the pool where Sam and Steve are talking. 

“What’s up, Y/N,” Sam greets with a hug. 

“Great job on the mission,” Steve says, patting you on the shoulder. 

“Easy peasy,” you say with a nonchalant wave of your hand. Your gaze catches on the red solo cups on the table. 

“Wanna go a round?” You ask Sam, shaking the ball that’s clutched in between your fingers. 

“No way, Y/N. Remember the last time we played?” he asks, and you cackle at the memory of finding him the morning after going sixteen rounds of beer pong (all of which he lost but continued to call for rematch after rematch) in a neon pink speedo and asleep on the unicorn floatie on top of the pool. You used up half of your phone’s data taking pictures of him, all of which you sent to the team group chat.  

“Stevie?” You asks, jutting out your bottom lip. He laughs at you.

“Nice try,” he says while shaking his head. Since he can’t get drunk, you guys usually play with a forfeit. Last time he had to let you pick his outfit for one day. The look on everyone’s faces when Captain America walked into the mission meeting in a hotdog suit brings a smile to your face every time you think of it. 

“You guys are no fun,” you say with a pout. 

“I’ll play a round with you Miss Y/L/N,” Peter pipes up from the couch in front of the fire pit. You raise a brow and Sam laughs, but you throw him a ball anyway. 

“Good luck kid.” 

“Okay, okay cool, I’ve only played like once at a party, but I don’t know if that counts since we didn’t have beer, so we used cranberry juice, but I feel like––” 

Bucky plucks the ping pong ball out of Peter’s hands. “You and me,” he says to you. You raise your brows, surprised that the Winter Soldier decided to even come out to one of these hangouts. You talked to him before, basic pleasantries on missions and around the tower, but haven’t really had a full on interaction with him. You ignore that though. The tequila is beginning to work its way into your bloodstream and he looks especially good in a simple black tee and jeans and you kind of want to see how good of a beer pong player the famous Winter Soldier really is. You look at him for a beat longer, giving him time to change his mind if he wants, but he simply quirks up a brow. 

“Okay, you’re on Barnes.” He flashes you a smile that makes your cheeks warm. 

“You don’t want to play her Barnes, she’ll smoke you,” Sam warns him. 

Steve folds his arms across his chest, his face adorned with an amused smile. Because honestly, he doesn’t know who would win. A super soldier with a bionic arm against an assassin with deadly aim. Each has an equal shot. 

“Eye for eye,” you both say in unison, locking eyes while tossing each of your balls. Yours makes it in while his bounces off the rim of a cup. 

“Next time, sweets,” you say with a wink. He cracks a smile and rolls his eyes. You make two of his cups, and now it’s his turn. 

Flicking his wrist, the ball plops into the cup at the center of the triangle. Your mouth melts into an evil grin. 

“Pants off.” 

His eyes sharpen. “What?” 

“You made the center cup on your first try. Pants off.” His mouth opens, about to argue. 

“Those are the rules man,” Steve says, eyes crinkling at the corners. Bucky gives him a glare that would make any other man piss his pants, but Steve just shrugs and beckons him to undress. He lets out an annoyed huff, but proceeds to unbuckle his belt. When he finishes pushing down his black jeans, he’s left in a pair of tight black briefs. Someone whistles. You can’t help your eyes as they wander down.

“Eyes up here, Doll,” he says with a smirk, and your mouth drops open. The dimple on the side of his face deepening when he sees your flustered state. 

“Don’t flatter yourself, Barnes,” you say, trying to ignore the way your stomach twists when he calls you “Doll.”

 –––––

You’re currently in the lead when Nat walks over, six shots held impressively between her fingers. She hands you two of the them, gives two to Sam, and downs the last two herself.

“I would have gotten you two oldies some, but then I remembered that you guys only drink gross whiskey,” she says to Bucky and Steve. 

“How considerate,” Bucky says dryly, arms now crossed against his chest. 

You hiss when you feel the vodka run down your throat, and you scrunch up your face at the taste. 

Sam laughs. “One of the best Russian trained assassins can’t handle the taste of vodka.”

“Fuck you Big Bird,” you wheeze out, flipping him off. Sam’s mouth pops open comically. Bucky chokes on air, and Nat howls, clapping her hands together. 

“Big Bird? Big Bird?” Sam asks, eyebrows to his hairline. You all continue to laugh even harder at his affronted expression, and he scoffs. 

“The utter disrespect. Big Bird? Come on, I need a drink,” you hear him mumble to himself as he walks away. 

“I love you!” You yell. He waves you off, and you blow him a kiss. Nat’s still giggling when your favorite song comes on. 

“Your turn Barnes––oh my god, I love this song!” you exclaim. Bucky gauges the shot, and he’s just about to release the ball when you raise your arms above your head, swaying your hips to the music, and his eyes laser in on the small strip of skin that’s uncovered when your shirt rides up. His hand falters, and the ball flies to the left and bounces away and onto the ground. You smirk and wink, and his eyes narrow. 

“Distracted there, Bud?” Steve murmurs. Bucky glares at him. And out of spite, he tosses the ball while still glaring at Steve. It splashes straight into a cup. Steve raises his brows and his hands in mock apology. 

You’re both down to your last cups. He’s a formidable opponent. It’s his turn, and he makes it. You’re not worried though. 

Okay just gotta make this shot, or he wins. Easy peasy. You take a breath and release the ball. It soars in a nice arc, hits the rim, and…

rolls off the side of the cup and bounces off the table. 

Your mouth pops opens in surprise while Bucky’s stretches into a triumphant smile. 

“Rematch,” you demand. 

“Uhh, I don’t think so, I kinda like being the king of beer pong right now. Maybe another time,” he says with a smug grin. Your shock turns into a begrudging laughter. 

“Okay fine. Good game, good game,” you say, offering up your hand, which he takes, warm hand and rough callouses rub against your skin deliciously. 

You grab his tumbler of whiskey sitting on the table and down the rest in one gulp. He raises his brows, eyes focused on a drop of liquor at the corner of your mouth. 

“I’m gonna hold you to that rematch,” you say before sauntering off. He watches you leave before seating himself down on the couch. 

A hand offers him a refilled glass of whiskey, which he takes. He can’t get drunk, but it’s familiar, and Tony’s collection tastes nice. Seconds after, Steve plops down next to him. 

“So, what do you think of Y/N?” 

“She’s cool. I like her,” he says simply, not taking his eyes off the way you’re drunkenly dancing dangerously close to the pool’s edge with Natasha. Steve narrows his eyes, a knowing smile playing on his lips. 

“Shut up, punk,” he says

“I didn’t say anything!” Steve exclaims, raising his hands in defense. 

“Didn’t have to,” still gazing at you. You’re now braiding Thor’s hair, and his stomach clenches with something akin to jealousy and something else when he sees you throw back your head and laugh at something the lightening god says, wishing that that person who was making you laugh was him. That the hair you’re combing your fingers through was his. That he could laugh that easily with you. 

“Okay, whatever, I won’t push it,” Steve says, clinking his own glass to Bucky’s. 

A few moments of peaceful silence. 

“Bucky has a crush!” 

“Oh fuck you, what are you twelve?” Bucky says before pushing himself off the couch. 

“Hey––where are you going?” Captain America calls after his best friend. 

“Away from you!” 

Steve shakes his head as he laughs, raising his glass to his lips before hearing Sam’s shriek followed by a loud splash. 

“Fuck you Barnes,” Sam sputters once his head breaks through the water. Bucky just flips him off as he walks back inside. 

“What the hell did you say?” Steve asks, wiping the water droplets off of his face. 

“I just asked him why he was smiling so much!” 

Make Believe: Part 4 [Roger Taylor x Reader]

Pairing: Roger Taylor x Reader [FAKE DATING AU]

Summary: You’re a famous rockstar. Roger Taylor has an image problem. Both of your management teams thought it would be a great idea for you two to fake date. Problem is: you guys hate each other’s guts.

Word count: ~3.1k 

Contains: language and slut-shaming (not from Roger though!) 

A/N: I AM BACK. Here is part 4, I don’t how many people still want to read it, so if you’re on the taglist, and no longer want to be on it, please message me (I will not be offended). And vice versa, if you want to be on the taglist but you aren’t on it, just shoot me a message! I hope you guys enjoy this part and thank you for sticking with me! Love you guys. 

PART ONE || PART TWO || PART THREE 

Previously…

“I’m really tired of fighting. Can we call a truce until this whole thing is over?” he says after he blows out the smoke. You let out a laugh that sounds more like an exhale. 

“Truce,” you say, handing him the bottle of scotch. 

“Okay, well, now that we’re not enemies anymore, we should get to know each other better,” he says after he takes a swig. 

“Okay, shoot,” you ask. 

“What’s your favorite color?” 

“Really?” 

“That’s basic question!” 

“Fine, pink. You?”

“Yellow.” 

“Ok. I wanna ask a question, why are you always wearing those sunglasses? It’s night and we’re––we were––indoors.” 

“These sunglasses are sexy, and you know it,” he says with a nudge of his shoulder to yours. 

And so, you two spend most of the night there––forgetting about the party raging below. Passing the bottle back and forth to one another, you both share stories of childhood memories, being on tour, and everything in between. You talk about your crazy university stories and the time you not so accidentally threw up on a douchebag at a bar. 

Roger talks about the time he got into a bar fight over a pack of peanuts. 

“Did you win?”

“Oh god no, I was absolutely shit-faced, and I think he was a former boxer.” 

You tilt your head back and laugh, and he looks at you with a small smile playing at his lips, a weird feeling warming his chest. 

 –––––

After that night, you and Roger have been trying slowly to create a somewhat functional friendship. 

“Can I get an iced latte with vanilla and two packets of sweetener please?” you ask the waiter taking your order. Roger pulls a face, and you cross your arms. 

“What? I like sweets Mister Plain Black Coffee.” He rolls his eyes and flicks your nose. You swat his hand out of the way but laugh nonetheless. 

Maybe that smile in that picture the paparazzi caught of you and him wasn’t entirely faked.

And maybe after you guys pay for the check and are walking towards the car, Roger leaves his hand wrapped around yours a moment longer than he has to even after you both get are out of the camera’s spotlight. 

 –––––

You sigh as you look around the room. Another night, another party, another evening spending time around drunken fools. 

You stiffen when you hear a voice that makes your skin crawl. Oh no. Looking over, you spot your ex standing by the bar with his arm around another girl’s waist. Roger notices the way your shoulders tense, and he opens his mouth, but he doesn’t get to say anything because before he can turn around, you grab his hand and drag him into the nearest bedroom. 

Shutting the door behind you, you look at a very confused Roger. 

“Give me a love bite.” You’re not thinking this through. Jealousy and pride clouding your logic, but you don’t care. 

He blinks. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Give me a love bite.” 

You almost giggle at how clueless and flustered Roger looks right now, so unlike his usual cocky self. He opens his mouth. 

“Please? I think it’ll really sell our relationship!” He narrows his eyes at you. An inner conflict seems to be resolved when he exhales. 

“Okay…” He walks over carefully, almost as if he’s worried that he’s walking into a trap. 

Thus explains the reason why you’re currently straddling Roger’s lap in the first available bedroom you guys could find in the house. He carefully pushes the front of your dress to the side, the silk easily gliding away with his touch. Goosebumps erupt onto your skin when you feel his rough, calloused fingers graze your collarbones. 

“You sure about this?” he asks you, and you nod. 

Keep reading

Do you know when make believe part 5 is coming out?

most likely this Sunday night or Monday :) 

Make Believe: Part One [Roger Taylor x Reader]

Pairing: Roger Taylor x Reader [FAKE DATING AU]

Summary: You’re a famous rockstar. Roger Taylor has an image problem. Both of your management teams thought it would be a great idea for you two to fake date. Problem is: you guys hate each other’s guts.

Word count: ~1.6k

Contains: language, that’s pretty much it 

A/N: this is a shameless way I can write an enemies-to-lovers trope and fake dating au because I’m trash for both of those (It’s the best of both worldssss). So this was really fun to write! I hope you enjoy! Let me know if you want to be added to this series’s taglist or my permanent taglist!

“Y/N Y/L/N’s Newest Album Hits #1 in the U.K, taking the coveted spot right from under Queen’s noses!” 

––––––

“Absolutely not. Not going to happen,” Roger says, arms crossed tightly across his chest as he leans against the desk in Jim’s office. 

Jim sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Roger. You have an image problem. You’re pictured with a new girl almost every night. An article about you breaking some girl’s heart is in the papers every other day. This behavior,” he waves his hand around, “is hurting sales. You’re not going to get out of this,” Jim says, still annoyed that you had taken the top spot for most album sales when he––and everyone else––confidently thought it would be Queen sitting at the top this year. 

Roger scoffs in disbelief. “I’m in a fucking rock and roll band. Our audience isn’t the sort to be swayed away from that.”

“Statistics have shown that each time one of you have gotten into a relationship, your sales have soared. Think about Brian last year. And then consider having the number one artist in the UK dating a member of Queen. This is going to be a huge success.” Roger stays quiet at that. 

“Look Rog––I’m not the biggest fan of this plan either, but you’ve got to be honest, it’s going to work. And she’s a great girl. I really like her,” Brian says, putting his hand on his friend’s shoulder. Freddie nods. 

“Well, that’s easy for you to say! You don’t have to fake date your nemesis!” Roger says, throwing up his arms. 

Brian rolls his eyes. “I think “nemesis” is a little bit of an overstatement, Rog,” he says. 

“Why does it have to be me?” he groans. 

Jim looks pointedly at him. “Maybe because everyone else is already in a relationship with other people?” Roger just groans again.

“I really don’t understand your hatred towards her! I think she’s lovely,” Freddie says. Rogers eyes are wide with betrayal.

“Ask her! She hated me the second she laid eyes on me!” he says, indignation prevalent in his voice. Brian and Freddie both raise their arms up in mock surrender at his outburst, stifling their laughter. To be honest, they all think Roger and your feud is quite amusing. 

“Ten bucks says that they’ll sleep with each other by the end of the night,” Freddie once said as he watched you and Roger bump into each other at a party your record label was throwing. 

“Twenty bucks says that she’ll throw her drink straight in the face,” Brian retorted. Brian got twenty dollars richer that night. But still, the band members––everybody––cannot deny nor escape the tension, sexual or not, between the two of you. 

John is currently trying to suppress a smile, eyes crinkled at the edges. Roger narrows his eyes. 

“What are you snickering about over there?” 

“I’m really excited to see you both interact with each other.”

“You’ve got to admit it, darling, this is gonna be so fucking entertaining,” Freddie chimes in. 

“Oh fuck me,” Roger says in a huff, plopping himself down in a plush chair while dragging his hand roughly down his face.

“Twenty bucks says he’ll be saying that to Y/N when this is over,” Freddie whispers to Brian. Before Brian can respond, Roger punches Freddie in the arm. 

––––––

“WHAT?” you screech, the water you’re holding sloshing out of the cup. 

“I’m sorry Y/N, but we already planned this whole thing, and I think this opportunity will be amazing for the both of you. We’re going over to the boys’ recording studio this Friday to finalize all of the details,” your manager, Anne, says almost gently. You sigh.

“I just hit number one on the UK charts. Why would I have to use his help?” 

“Yes, and you know that everyone is so proud of you. But this will keep you at the top and open up more opportunities. It’s a win-win situation. Just think about this purely as a business deal, which it is, and just ignore your hatred towards him.” You open your mouth, but she raises her hand. 

“And…you’ve got to admit, he’s not hard on the eyes,” she says with a grin. You pause for a moment before lightly smacking her arm with the magazine you grabbed off her desk, both of you erupting into laughter. 

––––––

Friday came too soon. Your laughter is gone as you stand in front of their recording studio. Taking a deep breath, you walk through the doors, and you’re met with the sight of Queen, lounging on a couch in the middle of the room. 

“Hi boys! Hi Jim, nice to see you again,” Anne says before walking over to Jim and giving him a friendly hug and kiss on the cheek.  

“Hey Y/N!” Brian says, standing up from the couch and bounding over to you with open arms. You smile, returning his embrace. 

“Hey Bri! How are you?” you ask, voice muffled in his chest. John and Freddie both stand up as well, coming over to give you hugs. 

“You look stunning darling,” Freddie compliments, giving you a kiss on the cheek.

You’ve been friends with them for quite a long time, having met at a music awards after party many years ago. They had all taken a liking to you and you to them. All of them except one. And that one is still sitting––more like sprawled out––on the couch, his arms stretched lazily across the back of it and his legs spread too wide. He smiles at you and wiggles his fingers mockingly. 

“Hi gorgeous,” he says with a smirk that makes you roll your eyes. Annoyance already beginning to bubble fast underneath your skin. 

“Close your legs,” you snap. 

“I know it’s difficult, but eyes up here love,” he says with a tsk. Your mouth drops open, and you feel a flush of anger creep up your face in the shade of a bright red. Before you can retort, Anne and Jim cut you off. 

“Behave you guys.”

“Sometimes I feel as if they’re children,” Anne mutters to Jim to which he vehemently nods in agreement. 

“Please sit,” Jim says, gesturing to the couch. You take the seat next to Brian, farthest away from the blonde headed drummer who’s still looking at you with a shit-eating grin on his face. Once everyone settles in, the meeting begins. 

“Let’s go over what you both will be required to do before you guys rip each other’s throats out,” Jim says quite seriously. 

“Question,” Roger interrupts as he raises a hand in the air. Jim sighs, exasperation evident in his face. 

“Yes, Roger?” 

“How long is this going to be a thing?” 

“For at least several months––just until both your albums drop.” 

“That’s in nine months!” Roger exclaim. 

You roll your eyes before flashing him a mocking grin. “Wow, you can do basic math!” 

“Bitch!”

“Dick!”

“Guys!” Anne yells. You grimace apologetically, not before sending Roger one final glare.

“We have an interview already set up for Roger next week where the interviewer will ask about your new relationship.”

“You will also be accompanying the band during their stay at Ridge Farm while they record their album. As you already know, Y/N will be a feature artist on one of your tracks.”

“We have dates where you’ll be seen and pictured out in public, but you can choose the location. And obviously, you guys will have to be seen at parties together.”

“You’ll also have to stay at each other’s flats some nights, so the paparazzi can get photos of you both coming out of each other’s apartments.”

Even though Anne had already briefed you on what this whole fake dating situation would entail, you’re still taken aback at the conditions and what you’re going to be expected to do. 

After everything’s explained and the contracts are signed (an excruciating three hours later), you get up to grab a bottle of water from the counter.  Anne and Jim discuss whatever it is they’re talking about in the corner of the room. Freddie, John, and Brian joke around in the corner next to the soundboard. 

Roger saunters over to you.

“I have one condition about this whole fake dating thing,” he says quietly in your ear. You rest your weight on one leg and raise your brows for him to continue. 

“You can’t fall in love with me,” he says with a smirk and a mischievous glint in his eyes. You scoff, pushing past him with a hard shove to his shoulder. 

“In your dreams, Taylor,” you call back before joining the other’s conversation. 

––––––

As you walk out of the studio, pressed up against Roger’s side, you’re met with a barrage of paparazzi and cameras flashing in your faces, specifically focused on your joined hands. 

ARE YOU GUYS RECORDING A SINGLE TOGETHER?

ARE YOU TWO DATING?

WHEN DID YOU MEET?

You ignore the interrogation and simply offer them a strained smile, trying your best not to snatch your hand out of his grasp. He seems to be the doing the same. 

This is going to be a long nine months.

NEXT CHAPTER: PART TWO 

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oh my god im so excited for make believe part 5!!! im in love with it

Omg this makes me so happy!! So glad that you’re enjoying the story!!

just found make believe and im in love its so good!!! im a sucker for the fake dating au

Ahhh thank you so much!! Hahahaha fake dating is literally my fave thing to write and read!!