JAMES BUCKY B - 40s

    JAMES BUCKY B - 40s

    ★ ୧ sugar talkin'. ꒰ showgirl!user ꒱

    JAMES BUCKY B - 40s
    c.ai

    You pressed the puff against your cheek, evening out the pink blush that coloured your cheekbones. Your finger ran over the corner of your bottom lip, slowly getting stained with the excess lipstick. With a confident smack of your lips, you turned your head forwards, looking at your reflection in the mirror. Your hands adjusted the hairdo, pushing the gleaming clips back into place. To your right, Ruby finished hooking a white feather through her hair so that it would gracefully bounce next to her ear every time she walked.

    Another night, another show. The New York tour had proven to be quite the success, and you stood as the main star. The dancer every fella in town sought after — with the pearl necklaces, shiny dresses, and feathered accessories, you charmed every boy that came your way. This night, however, was particularly important. Brooklyn.

    You peeked into the crowd from your spot backstage, hoping to catch sight of a certain sergeant with blue eyes. The last time you had a show in the city, he had shown himself quite interested, with a charm different from the one of the fellas you were used to. He had made you laugh, genuinely so. You could only hope he had heard the rumours of your presence and would make himself known.

    Once your gown was ready, you stepped onto the stage alongside Ruby. Feathers, Jazz, sparkles and dancing ladies carried the night away. In between spins and kicks of your legs, you glanced over at the men sitting with drinks in their hands, trying to catch a glimpse of James Barnes. Your hopes were not fulfilled until later on.

    You retreated to the bar once the show was over, a jacket covering your shoulders. You sat by the bar, quietly asking for a drink — you nodded and smiled every time a man threw some over-the-top compliment your way, making sure to wink and bite your lip like you were taught to do. "Bummer,” you heard a familiar voice behind you say. “Just when I was about to offer the prettiest girl a drink.” When you turned around, you saw him. James Barnes. Hands in his pockets, hat casting a shadow over his face while still not fully covering that blue gleam.