Blind, Deaf, & Mute
pairing: avenger!bucky x PRspecialist!f!reader
summary: you are hired as the avengers’ new public relations specialist, a sunshine‑bright force dropped into a tower full of exhausted superheroes and one very grumpy former assassin. bucky barnes wants nothing to do with you, and you seem determined to befriend him anyway. what starts as mutual annoyance slowly shifts into something softer as the two of you stumble through awkward teamwork, unexpected moments, and one disastrously chaotic baking challenge that proves the avengers might actually be a family after all.
warnings: pure fluff, more friendship that romance, baking chaos, mentions of public image, bonding, no use of y/n
word count: 2.9k
song inspo: i like me better by lauv
a/n: lowkey love blind, deaf, mute challenges so I had to add it to this universe somehow (also I didn’t proof read so fingers crossed)
─˖· masterlist
it started out rough. no, rough was an understatement. it was a car crash in slow motion. you, the avengers’ newly hired public relations specialist, all sharp wit and sharper tongue, a whirlwind of deadlines, crisis management, and social media strategy. and him, james buchanan barnes, a ghost with a metal arm, a man so buried under layers of trauma and stoicism it was a miracle he could speak at all. he found your energy grating, your constant stream of chatter and chaotic movements an assault on his carefully constructed quiet. you found his perpetual silence and brooding presence a personal challenge, a brick wall you were determined to chip away at, if only out of spite.
tony had been annoyingly smug about hiring you. “we need someone who can handle our image,” he’d said, waving a tablet full of disastrous headlines. “someone who can keep us from looking like a walking PR nightmare.”
steve had frowned. “we’re not a brand, tony. we’re a team.”
bucky had muttered, “feels like a reality show,” under his breath.
tony ignored them both. “too bad. she starts monday.”
they hated the idea. steve because he didn’t like the thought of the team being “managed,” and bucky because he didn’t like the thought of being perceived at all. but tony was right. public support mattered. government support mattered. and someone had to keep the avengers from accidentally setting the internet on fire every other week.
tony, to his credit, had been weirdly kind about the whole thing. he’d insisted you move into the tower almost immediately, claiming it was “more efficient for workflow” but really because he knew you would start pulling eighteen‑hour days trying to keep the team’s image from spontaneously combusting. you’d protested at first, but he’d waved you off, muttering something about hazard pay and unlimited coffee. so you moved in, bright-eyed, caffeinated, and ready to fix everything. you had set up your little corner of the tower with your laptop and color‑coded digital planners, and tried not to feel too out of place among superheroes.
for the first several weeks bucky avoided you like you were a landmine.
he was grumpy about it too, in that very specific bucky barnes way where he never actually said anything but somehow managed to radiate irritation like a space heater. every time you walked into a room with your bright “good morning!” and your stack of color‑coded schedules, he would tense like you’d just thrown a grenade at him. you tried to be friendly, tried to make the whole “living with superheroes” thing less awkward, but he met every attempt with a grunt, a scowl, or a pointed exit. you were sunshine and caffeine and relentless optimism, and he was a thundercloud in combat boots who clearly wished you came with an off switch.
months in, nothing had changed.
"ugh! he's like a sentient, angry statue, and im nothing but nice to him," you'd complained to natasha one night, sprawled across her bed while she cleaned her knives with unnerving focus. “also, he makes my job ten times harder! i hate him.”
"he's been through a lot," she'd said, not looking up.
"so have i," you'd shot back. "i had to sit through tony’s three-hour lecture on brand consistency. i have trauma too." you joked.
natasha had just hummed, a small smile playing on her lips.
steve would try to mediate, his earnest attempts at getting you two to ‘find common ground’ usually ending with you making a sarcastic comment and bucky retreating further into himself. sam just found the whole thing hilarious. "look at them," he'd whisper to clint, not so quietly, as you and bucky sat on opposite ends of the common room couch. "the grumpy cat and the little bird. it's a nature documentary."
but weeks turned into a month, and then two. the ice thawed, not with a grand gesture, but with a series of small, almost insignificant moments. it was you leaving a cup of coffee next to the book he was reading, not saying a word. it was him wordlessly moving a large stack of your paperwork from a chair so you could sit down. it was the day you'd been up for 36 hours straight preparing a press release and scheduling interviews, and you'd fallen asleep at the kitchen table. you woke up a few hours later with a blanket draped over your shoulders and a glass of water and two aspirin next to your head. you never saw him, but you knew.
"team bonding," you'd called it the first time you'd dragged him out of the tower. it was just a walk through central park, you chattering about everything and nothing, him listening with his hands shoved in his pockets, a noncommittal "hm" his only contribution. but he came. the next time, it was to a ridiculously obscure foreign film you wanted to see during your free time. he fell asleep ten minutes in, but he'd bought the popcorn. slowly, the grumpy statue started to look a little less like granite and a little more like a man who just needed a friend.
and then came the day you needed content.
not damage control. not rumor control. not a PR emergency.
just… content.
“we need something fun,” you’d told tony, scrolling through analytics. “something human. something that shows the team isn’t just doom and gloom.”
tony raised an eyebrow. “define fun.”
“a youtube video,” you said, already grinning. “the blind, deaf, and mute baking challenge. everyone seems to love it, so it might just help our case.”
tony stared at you. “you’re insane.”
“and you hired me,” you shot back smiling.
and that was how you found yourself setting up a tripod in the middle of the avenger tower’s ridiculously large kitchen, while sam wilson was trying to stick a piece of duct tape over his own mouth.
"i don't think this is going to stick," sam mumbled, his voice muffled by the tape.
"that's the point, sam," you said, adjusting the camera angle. "it's supposed to be a challenge. now, no more talking from you." you teased.
bucky was already sitting at the massive island, looking deeply unimpressed. he was fiddling with a pair of your oversized, hot pink, noise canceling headphones. "this is your idea of damage control?"
"this is my idea of good publicity," you corrected, grabbing a soft silk scarf from your pocket.
you filmed a quick little intro to explain the challenge. your bubbly personality being perfect for the camera as you introduced sam and bucky.
"now, you're deaf. put those on. i've got my playlist queued up. it's... eclectic." you said smiling up at him.
he sighed, the sound long-suffering, but he put the headphones on. you hit play on your phone, connected via bluetooth, and the sound of sabrina carpenter blasting directly into his ears. you saw his eye twitch. perfect.
"and you," you said to yourself, tying the silk scarf securely around your eyes, plunging yourself into darkness. "are blind. okay, the camera's rolling. we're making chocolate chip cookies. the recipe is on the counter. let the chaos begin.” you spoke to yourself, knowing you would just edit this out later.
the kitchen was already a war zone, but somehow things got worse once you started mixing.
you reached for the bowl, hands sweeping blindly across the counter. bucky saw this and immediately panicked.
“wait— WAIT— you’re gonna knock it over!” he shouted, even though he couldn’t hear himself.
you froze. “bucky, i can’t see you. use your words.”
“i am using my words!” he yelled, arms full as he held ingredients in his hands. he frantically nodded towards the bowl as if that would help “the bowl! the bowl is— it’s— it’s somewhere near your elbow!”
“that’s not helpful!” you yelled back.
sam, who had given up on the tape entirely, made a strangled noise and grabbed your wrist, guiding it to the bowl before bucky had a meltdown.
“oh,” you said. “there it is.”
bucky put his hands on his hips. “i told you. i definitely told you.”
“you didn’t tell me anything,” you said. “you were just yelling the word ‘wait’ like i was about to detonate.”
“you were about to detonate,” he insisted, being able to read your lips. “that bowl is our last hope.”
you snorted. “dramatic.”
“you know I can read your lips right?” bucky pointed at his own chest. “super soldier. everything is dramatic.”
you rolled your eyes behind the blindfold and reached for the whisk. bucky watched you grab a spatula instead.
“no, no, no— wrong thing!” he shouted, leaning over the counter. “the whippy thing! the— the— the—”
sam slapped a whisk into his hand.
bucky blinked at it. “yes. this. the whippy thing.” he shoved it toward you. “use this.”
you felt something poke your arm. “is that… is that the whisk?”
“yes!” bucky said proudly.
you grabbed it. “okay. mixing.”
bucky nodded, satisfied—until he saw what was happening inside the bowl.
“no— no— you’re not mixing, you’re… stabbing it,” he said, annoyed. “why are you stabbing it.”
“i can’t see,” you reminded him.
“well i can’t hear,” he shot back, reading your lips, “but you don’t see me stabbing things.”
you paused. “bucky, you stab things all the time.”
he opened his mouth, closed it, not hearing what you said and not being able to respond.
sam made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a laugh.
you kept whisking—sort of—and bucky leaned closer, trying to supervise. “okay, okay, slower. slower. you’re gonna fling it everywhere.”
“if im not doing it correctly then you do it!” you snapped back, moving your hands away from the bowl and crossing your arms.
at this point sam was near the cabinet, quietly rummaging for more ingredients.
“i can’t hear a word you’re saying,” bucky yelled, after he watched you speak.
you moved your head up, towards where you assumed he was standing. “bucky. look at my mouth.” you said pointing at your lips.
he leaned down, squinting like that would help.
“mix. the. ingredients,” you mouthed slowly.
bucky’s eyebrows shot up. “kiss the expedients?! WHY WOULD I KISS ANYTHING RIGHT NOW?!”
sam doubled over, wheezing.
you slapped your hand over your face. “mix! MIX!”
“oh!” bucky said, nodding. “mix. right. that makes more sense,” he grumbled.
he moved towards the bowl in one fluid motion, accidentally nudging you on the shoulder because you didn’t move, still not seeing a thing. you quickly stepped back, knocking a spoon onto the floor. he froze, staring at it like it had personally betrayed him.
“i didn’t do that,” he said immediately.
“you absolutely did. you nudged me!” you yelled, loud enough so he could hear you over the pop girl music in his ears.
“nope,” bucky insisted. “that was you… and gravity i guess. but mostly you.”
sam tapped your shoulder again, trying to warn you about something.
“what sam? i can’t see a thing!” you retorted. you turned your head back, hearing the shuffling of what seemed to be a plastic bag. maybe the chocolate chips?
“i’ll add these,” bucky said confidently.
“bucky, wait—” sam tried to say, but it came out as a garbled mess.
bucky ripped the bag open like it was an enemy combatant. chocolate chips exploded everywhere—across the counter, the floor, your shirt, sam’s hair.
you gasped. “what was that?!”
sam pointed at bucky.
bucky pointed at the bag. “it attacked me!” he retorted.
“it did not attack you,” you said.
“it did,” he insisted, still managing to read your lips somehow. “it was aggressive. i defended myself.”
you reached out blindly and your hand landed on his arm. “bucky. you massacred the chocolate chips.”
he looked down at the mess in silence.
sam made a noise like he was choking on his own laughter.
you sighed dramatically. “okay. okay. we can still salvage this. maybe.”
bucky crouched down to pick up the chips, muttering, “five second rule,” even though he couldn’t hear himself say it.
“don’t put those back in the bowl!” you warned, loud enough for him to hear.
“i wasn’t going to,” he lied immediately.
sam snatched the handful from him.
bucky looked offended. “i was helping.”
“you’re doing great!” you yelled, patting the air until your hand landed on his shoulder. “chaotic, but great.”
he straightened a little at that, like he’d just been promoted.
“okay,” he said, rolling his shoulders back. “what’s next. what do we ruin now.”
you laughed. “hopefully nothing.”
“unlikely,” sam muttered.
bucky faking a nod of agreement because he heard absolutely nothing.
you all ended up successfully placing the cookies in the oven without burning the tower down. sam wiped the counters while you salvaged what you could of the used ingredients, and bucky, with his surprising steadiness, managed to actually help produce a decent batch of chocolate chip cookies, mostly by following the recipe like a normal person. by the time you were done, the kitchen smelled like chocolate and sugar, and the three of you were sitting on stools, munching on slightly lumpy but delicious cookies, a comfortable silence settling between you.
later that night, after a long, hot shower that washed away the flour and the stress of the day, you were sitting cross-legged on your bed, your laptop glowing softly in the dark room. it was well past midnight, the rest of the tower quiet. you were editing the video, your fingers flying across the keyboard, cutting out the boring parts and adding silly music and captions. you zoomed in on bucky's confused face as he tried to measure sugar with a liquid cup, added a "womp womp" sound effect when you dropped the flour, and put a giant question mark over sam's head when he was trying to mime instructions. it was perfect. it was ridiculous. but it was perfect, especially for the public.
a soft knock on your door made you jump. you glanced at the clock, 1:17 am.
"come in," you called softly, your voice hushed in the quiet.
the door creaked open and bucky peeked in, his hair messy, wearing just a simple grey t-shirt and sweats. he looked softer like this, less like the winter soldier and more like just... a guy. "couldn't sleep," he murmured, stepping inside and closing the door behind him.
"me neither," you said, patting the space on the bed next to you. "editing our masterpiece," you giggled quietly.
he sat down, his weight dipping the mattress, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from him. he leaned over to watch the screen, his shoulder brushing against yours. you tried to focus on the timeline, on the little clips of you all flailing around the kitchen, but all you could think about was the solid presence of him next to you, the clean, faint scent of his soap.
on the screen, sam was having his silent meltdown, and bucky let out another soft chuckle. "he looked like a distressed penguin."
you giggled, leaning your head against his shoulder for a moment. "he really did." the contact was fleeting, but it sent a jolt through you. you straightened up quickly, your cheeks feeling warm. you finished adding the last few touches to the video, a simple thumbnail: "avengers: baking challenge (fail)." your finger hovered over the 'post' button.
"you sure about this?" he asked, his voice quiet in the darkness.
"positive," you said, and clicked it. the video uploaded, a tiny spinning wheel appearing on the screen. "there. it's done. lets hope it does well"
you closed the laptop, plunging the room into near darkness, besides for the soft glow of the city lights through your window. you both sat there for a moment, the silence comfortable, easy. you could feel his gaze on you, but when you turned to look, his eyes were fixed on the window.
"thanks for today," he said, still looking away. "it was... fun."
"yeah," you agreed, your heart beating a little faster. "it was."
he finally turned to look at you, his blue eyes soft in the dim light. he reached up, his metal hand cool against your skin, and gently tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear. his fingers lingered for a second, tracing the line of your jaw. then he leaned in and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to your temple. it wasn't romantic, not really. it was just... sweet. a quiet acknowledgment of everything you'd become to each other.
you didn't say anything. you just closed your eyes, leaning into the touch. when you opened them, he was leaning back, a faint blush on his own cheeks. you both were oblivious, dancing around a feeling neither of you could name, content to just exist in this quiet moment.
"get some sleep," he said, his voice barely a whisper.
"you too," you replied.
he didn't get up. he just shifted, settling back against your pillows, his eyes already drifting closed. you watched him for a moment, his breathing evening out, his face relaxed in sleep. you felt your own eyelids getting heavy, the warmth of his body next to yours a comforting weight. you curled up on your side, your laptop forgotten at the foot of the bed, and let yourself drift off, the faint smell of chocolate chip cookies and the lingering warmth of his kiss on your temple the last things you registered before sleep took you.
─˖· masterlist
*as always, thanks @uzmacchiato for the gorgeous lace banners <3
