#hayleysholidaywc

[the-canary]

One More Night - S.R

Summary: What were you supposed to give a man you didn’t know that well? (Modern!Reader/Steve Rogers)

Prompt: I got you for secret santa so now I have to buy a gift thats absolutely amazing but also hope you don’t find out its from me and it doesn’t reveal that i’m in love with you

A/N: this is for @buckychrist ‘s holiday writing challenge. either the last of the year or the first fic for some people. christmas was last week, but let’s keep it going a little while longer! thank you to the lovely @isavuu for brain storming with me <3 and happy new year’s everyone! 

Masterlist

Feedback is always welcomed.

Steve Rogers. Steve Rogers.

That is the name you pull out of your friends’ Secret Santa list at the beginning of the month. You try to stop yourself from groaning -- Bucky’s and Sam’s best friend, Tony’s business partner, the twins’ surrogate “dad” in their really bad dad jokes, Sharon’s sort-of ex.  

This is all the ways that you know Steve Rogers, but despite running in the same circle of friends for years -- you didn’t really know that man. He was quite and hardly ever talked to you, and it wasn’t for your lack of trying. You were in a vicinity and he just ran for it or started talking to someone else, eventually you got the point that he wanted nothing to do with you, as sad as that made you feel.

But now -- now, that you had to give him a gift, you were at a loss in what to do.

Sam and Bucky’s combined laughter echo off the walls.

“Why you finally got her after all these years!”

Steve groans as his best friends take joy in his sudden dilemma. He shakes his head before leaning into the leather of the booth.

“What am I going to do?”

“Well, maybe you’ll finally---”

You don’t know enough about Steve and you can’t really go to Sharon, since that would be a little weird, and asking wither Bucky or Sam would just give you away. So, you ask Nat to meet you for lunch outside of your work in the middle of December. Her green eyes twinkling as if she already knows what you are going to ask her, as she takes a sip of her Cafe Americano.

“What is this about exactly?” she asks with certain coyness that makes you just a bit anxious.

“I was wondering what you could about Steve,” you immediately respond, “I mean outside of what he does and somethings here and there, I really don’t know much about him. He really keeps to himself, ya know?”

“Yeah, I know,” she smiles a bit more before adding to underneath her breath so that you don’t notice as you dig into your lunch, “Though mainly around you though.”

“So, what can you tell me?”

“What would you like, Steve?” Wanda questions with a bright smile, as said anxious man brings out two pieces of paper.

“I just wanted to run this by you...for her present,” he admits softly, as Wanda’s eyes widen a considerable amount. She gaps at the name printed before she goes from looking at the pair of tickets and Steve, who just moves around awkwardly in the booth seat.

“Are these?” she pauses, remembering how you hadn’t stopped talking to her and Pietro about a certain event for months only to be disappointed that you couldn’t get tickets due to annoying website problems, “How did you even get these?”

“A friend in the marketing department,” Steve admits bashfully with a shrug as Wanda looks at him -- as she is trying to read his mind before giving him a small smile.

“Well, I keep your secret for now, Rogers.”

Wanda keeps smile as Steve shakes his head, embarrassed and unsure of what to do next.

Nat gives you few details about the super secretive Steve, but she does tells you that even though she does tell that even though he works with an advertising agency what he really loves is to paint and visiting museums when he can, which isn’t often enough -- his words, not hers. It’s then when you set about to work, looking to see if you can find what type of art Steve might enjoy or what he even focuses on. As you go through your list of friends, that is  when you beginning to see -- the little spark of Steve Rogers that seems to shine in all of their lives.  

Steve seems to be the glue that holds everything together in your little grow of friends as you soon come to realize. He and Bucky knowing each other since childhood, meeting Sam and Nat in college (who brought in Clint, whom she has been dating since forever). He brought in Tony through work meetings and just sharing certain ideas in common, who in turn brought in Pepper (his now wife), Rhodey, and Sharon -- who had been dating Steve when you came in.

You had joined this little group as an extension of the twins, Wanda had meet Steve through her internship a few years back (she would later bring in her boyfriend, Viz) and Pietro basically considered another younger sister when you first meet back in college -- these two world collide and you had been part of it ever since. While, there were noticeable ages differences here and there, everyone was very supportive of the rest of the group -- milestones and birthdays were celebrated as a family. However, even family had fights sometimes, Sharon had thrown everyone into a tizzy when the all-American blond couple had broken up a few years back-- everyone seemed to have an opinion about the deterioration of their relationship, but you-- you were just trying to help.

“Hey Steve,” you were standing in front of his new apartment with a nervous smile, as blue eyes gave you a questioning look.

“Hey,” he starts off as he sees that you are carrying a large bag of food and other items, “I don’t mean to be rude, but can I help you with something?”

“I-I was just wondering if you wanted to have a night in,” you try your hardest not to stammer as he give you soft smile, “You know movies, pizza. Just if you want to.”

He scrutinizes you for a moment, wondering if you are just pitying him cause of the current situation at hand but as you beam at him a shy smile with bright eyes -- Steve knows that you aren’t. He knew that you were a sweet gal from what he had seen from afar and know you were just trying your best in a very confusing situation.

“Yeah, come in,” he states, opening the door a bit more as you nod and come in for one of the very best nights in your life.

It was only for a couple of weeks, Steve and Sharon tried to make it work one last time and then Bucky and Sam proceeded to through the ma in a stream of unsuccessful dates, but you were sure --even if you never spoke again after that-- that you fallen for the man...just a little bit.

And now, you wanted to lift his spirits, just a little bit.

Thus, when you realized and searched just exactly who Steve liked in terms of modern day artists -- well, you knew with all your pitched pennies what person you had to call on to get it.

“Hey Tony,” you call him one mid-December day, “I was wondering if you could do me a favor.”

To be completely honest, Steve had sought out those tickets with a blind determination because he knew how much she loved that band -- she spoke about them all the time with Pietro, he had caught her humming their songs and lyrics from time to time with a bright smile on her face. He wanted to make her happy, but he was unsure how much he would enjoy them especially since he was aiming to be the one to be with her that night of the concert.

He personally knew how damaging it could be to see someone dislike or worst be uninterested in something you loved, so he goes to  Pietro for musical advice -- as bad as that sounds coming from Bucky’s annoyed tirade.

“Mmmm, I’ll just tell you her favorite song,” the young man smiles, as if he already knows what Steve is seeking out, though the blond never lets a word out.  

Steve finds himself staring at the purple cover art with a bit of apprehension, he had heard some of Pietro’s music before, but as he presses play -- he soon finds himself humming along.

The truth is that I fell in love with you And now I don't know what to do But I'd do anything to steal a little time

“I’m guessing your his Secret Santa,” Tony can’t help but remark as you stare at the painting in awe, as you shake your head.

Tony had helped you find an old art piece from an old Brooklyn artist that Steve seemed to be fond of and while you had a placed a good chunk in to pay for it, Tony had put the rest though as he already understood what you were going for.

“He’ll really love it,” Tony remarks as you turn and give him a bright grin that catches him off guard for a moment before he chuckles to himself. You’re confused for a moment before going back to staring at the painting. Later on, when you ask Tony how you were going to pay him back, he just shook his head vehemently.

“Anything to make the old man happy,” Tony states with a smile, using the old nickname for Steve that you still don’t quite understand the story behind. However, as you thank him, Tony knows that you don’t understand that he meant you instead of the painting placed behind the two of you.

Oh, if you only knew.

December 25th passes like a flash within your little group, as you all spend it in Tony’s Buffalo home.

Everyone watches gifts being exchanged with screams and excitement on how could it be. Most of your friends realize who their Secret Santa is by the end of the night. However, as you scream over the two tickets and Steve looks with awestruck wonder at the painting hanging in Tony’s living room. Neither of you say anything --too scared over the potential of rejected feelings than anything-- as the night moves forward.

The two of you say goodnight to each other awkwardly.

The rest of the group groans in annoyance and sets their own plans into motion.

It’s December 31st when you see Steve again, the craziness that comes with the end of year making it hard to see any of your friends until Tony’s party and while you had wished it was under better circumstances were also doing your best to avoid the man since the failure that came with your Christmas gift. His silence over the painting was something that stung you deeply. You knew a Steve that was already to debate and speak out about what bothered him -- you had seen it numerous times before when it came to politics or football, so to see him so quite shocked you.

You ran and hide for the entire night, while also trying to find who exactly had given you those tickets -- such a precious thing since the band’s music had helped you through some tough times. So, it didn’t help that through the process of elimination, you came to realize that it might have been Steve. He had given such a nice gift and you had give him...that thing.

You hated yourself for it, stuck between hiding and wanting to kiss him for such a beautiful thing.

It certainly didn’t help that he seemed to keep looking for you and he was a goddamn hound-dog when it came to it. Though, it wasn’t until the clock was close to midnight that you were able to catch your breath on the balcony overlooking the rest of Manhattan as the ball was close to dropping. Everyone inside was cheering the start of a new year, as certain song came up.

I just hope you realize That you know I believe in a thing called destiny So please don’t   Please don’t   Please don’t Don’t sleep on me

You gasp at the sound of a familiar song playing in the background of all the festivities, but instead of going back inside. You freeze at the sound of a certain voice: “It’s a good song, huh?”

You glance to your side to see a certain man in dark pants and a white shirt rolled up to his elbows as he seems more interested in swirling his drink before glancing to meet your eyes. He gives you a bashful smile before going back to looking at the city ready to enter a new year.

“It is. I love a lot of their music,” you state softly, unsure of where all this could be going as Steve nods.

“I’ve picked up a lot of their music recently,” Steve lets out an unsteady laugh, as your eyes widen just a but as you look at the blond, putting two and two together.

“Does that mean you,” you let out softly as somewhere in the background the countdown began, but you were unfolding something completely different,  “...gifted me the tickets for the concert?”

“I know how much to loved them,” Steve admits with a shake of his head and a  swing of his drink, trying to get some courage to move forward with admitting a lot of things, “And I know how hard you took it when you couldn’t get those tickets in time.”

“I...Thank you, Steve,” you grin, as the fireworks slowly begin to pop on the dark sky in front of you and for a moment you me mesmerized by how the colors light up the blue in his eyes.

“Anything for you, sweetheart,” Steve answers back softly, as he leans in a bit more for a second though your heart is going crazy at the new nickname he had given you, “ Does that mean I’m right in guessing that you gave me the painting?”

“Yeah, I even asked Tony for help,” you admit a bit embarrassed, “But you were so quiet, I didn’t...think you liked it.”

Steve has to look away and  laugh at this, as you give him a confused look: “I loved it. I was just shocked is all. You don’t see one of those everyday.”

“Oh, that’s good,” is all you can really say, trying not to skirm underneath his gaze that seems to have changed slightly from the friendly blue eyes you are used to -- it was more intense than before.

“So, since we both worked really hard on each other’s presents,” Steve starts off and though he seems calm, his heart is thumping like crazy, “That’s this might be more than a friend thing, right?”

Blue eyes keep watching you, as you nod meekly and unsure as he gives you the biggest grin.

“So, if I asked you--”

It’s all Steve gets in before you nod and pepper his cheeks with kisses, as he places his hands on your hips and spins for a brief moment, laughter echoing in the small balcony as the party keeps going on inside.

And even though, Christmas had come a little late for you -- the new year certainly look better than ever.

[whitewolfbumble]

To Be Alone with You

A Bucky x Reader Fluffy One Shot

Summary: Combine an Avenger’s midnight snowball fight, some mulled wine, a misunderstanding with the man that supposedly hated you, and it was one unique winter tradition to remember.

Prompt: “We’ve never really gotten along but you just threw a snowball at the back of my head and it’s fucking ON”

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Two competitive snowflakes melting into fluff! Some language because it’s me writing so.

Word Count: About 3k

A/N: Written for @buckychrist Holiday Writing Challenge! Thanks so much for hosting this one Hayley! This story evolved a few times so I’m in just under the wire here lol (please excuse any typos!). Hope you enjoy this darling!!

MY MASTERLIST // JOIN MY TAG LIST

_______

“This is the worst Avenger winter tradition, I swear to god,” you muttered, struggling to close your thermos of deliciously hot mulled wine.

“Listen, no arguments here,” Clint said, mirroring your crouching position several feet away behind a tree. His look betrayed him though, clearly loving every minute of this.

Clint’s eagle eye’s were scanning the playing field, watching for the opposing team with an undeniable gleam. Meanwhile you rolled yours, huffing and trying to keep the snow around you from crunching too loudly as you shifted, trying to take a look out into the snowy woods that surrounded the compound.

“And why at night of all times?” you whispered.

Clint sighed, his head lulling down for a moment before looking up with a raised brow and pursed lips.

“Because we’re a merry band of sharp shooters, enhanced individuals, super spies, and so on, who spend their time hunting down bad guys. You expect us to do this is broad daylight?”

Alright, you had to give him that one.

“I hate snowball fights,” you muttered, a weak comeback at best.

Although to be honest about it, you could admit that you did want to completely pelt one person in particular: Bucky Barnes.

You hadn’t been on the team long, and although for the first few months you thought you were getting along with him- even friends, and maybe the closest you had for a time- he decided to change that arrangement and decided not to even have the common courtesy to tell you why.

It had been after a mission that had gone badly. Almost as bad as it could get actually.

You had done the valiant but stupid thing to save a team member- the same one crouching near you in the snow now- and in doing so left you shredded. Maybe it saved his life, but it went against orders to pull back. As a prize for your actions, you came back to homebase ripped apart, unconscious, and barely hanging on to your life.

Left in critical condition you were precariously close to death, but after a lengthy healing process that didn’t change the no-holds-barred conversation from Steve and Tony (and a proud smile from both after, because let’s face it, you had in fact been a fucking hero that day). So you had recovered and maybe the leaders of the group forgave you, but apparently not everyone got over it. Specifically Bucky.

He probably thought you were an idiot after pulling a move like you had. Or maybe he thought he couldn’t trust you, one of the closest friends either of you had, to not jeopardize missions.

So he had been distant, wanting nothing to do with you, you figured. He made comments. Kept you at arm’s length. Doubted your ability to face the tough situations repeatedly. Barely even spoke to you outside of what was absolutely required, particularly when you tried to get him to explain himself.

Sometimes though you thought the old him was back, with kind smiles and soft looks, but those were fleeting and shut down fast. It fucking stung because for a brief moment it reminded you of how you used to be.

So, since he wouldn’t tell you the reason behind why he suddenly hated your guts, you could at least pelt his ass with snow.

“Movement, south-west,” Clint whispered into his comm. Your eyes narrowed at the spot he was looking to before you clicked your thermos of heavenly mulled wine closed and shoved it in your coat, zipping it up.

“I’ll flank west,” you said hushed. Silently you moved behind one tree than the next, your entirely white outfit blending seamlessly into the dim winter setting around you. “Tony, are you still in quadrant seven?”

“Affirmative, kids.” buzzed in Tony.

“Clint, ideas?” you whispered, stopping behind a large tree a distance from his now invisible location, poking your head around the trunk ever so slightly.

Nothing but silence followed.

The low creaks of the snow-ladden trees edged out. The wind softly whistling of the wind picking up snowflakes and brushing passed your ears.

But no Clint on the comms.

That was not good.

Shit!

In a split second- noise be damned- you were off racing away from Clint’s position, ducking and weaving. You crunched down hard and snapped branches hidden under the snow under your feet as you sprinted out, overtaken by the feeling of someone on your tail. Maybe you couldn’t see them well in the darkness but you just knew it.

“It’s Bucky, he was right behind you!” whispered Clint on the comm finally, maybe sounding like he was running after someone too, though you could barely hear over your breathing and footfalls. “Head south and meet up with Cap, you’ll need-”

Thwack!

You heard a heavy mound of snow hit the tree an inch from your shoulder as you zigged passed it. Anything else Clint had to said was beyond your hearing now, focused on the steps of the invisible snow monster of a man pursuing you.

Get on higher ground!, you thought to yourself. Find cover to get the upperhand!

It took some endless minutes with sudden bursts of snow whizzing through the air around you when you found the right spot to turn the tables.

You swerved to a steep incline, praying you’d find your footing and not trip under unknown logs and branches underfoot. But you propelled yourself to the top, launching yourself to hide low under a thick cover of bushes.

Instantly you stopped and waited, the sudden silence deafening.

Bucky had stopped his pursuit once you got the high ground, going on the defensive now. He must have.

You had the advantage of looking down to where you had just come from, able now to make out two footprints in the snow: yours and his.

But where yours lead you to your position now, his seemed to disappear.

Damn snow leopard.

You quieted yourself and scanned the dark blue, dim white, and pitch black surroundings, determined to take Bucky down.

But you heard it, body reacting in trained muscle memory before you mentally could. You turned and ducked down just as the former Winter Soldier lobbed a hard pack snowball, hitting you right in the side of the face.

Standing shocked you felt both freezing from the snow and burning from the impact, a big red mark already starting to show as you stood upright and turned slowly around to face the man. 

Bucky was standing there, several feet away, clad like a shadow and just as silent. He had taken a few steps forward, unable to stop the snow ball once it was free of his hand but knowing where it would land once you sensed him.

“Y/N!” he said, the snow sniper looking convincing apologetic, blue eyes bright and concerned with hand outstretched towards you. “God, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean too-”

“Barnes just pelted me in the head,” you snapped into the comm, eyes burning hot enough to melt snow, though he just stood motionless, lips parted in a wordless apology.

“Immediate disqualification!” Tony all but yelled, followed quickly by curses under his breath as he was probably getting walloped himself by snow.

“Fat chance...” you said, shaking the snow out of your coat with a sneer, wiping the wet droplets that remained on your face. Your tone turned determined and low, body shifting in a second from exasperated and loose to frustrated and ready to pounce: “Barnes is mine!”

You threw down your comm in the snow before moving to swing the ball of snow in your hand to the spot where he was.

But the place he once stood was empty, the snow flying right through the spot he was just in.

“Coward!” you yelled, not letting him get away from you this time and taking off like a bat out of hell.

Running fast through the crunching snow, you jumped over fallen trees and whipped through brushes and around trees, trying to catch a glimpse of the once Winter Soldier. Clearly he had an upper hand considering the terrain of his “upbringing” but it was fucking on and you refused to let him best you.

A flash of white was hurdling towards you and you slid along the snow, foot first, hopping up in one swift motion, barely any speed lost and a mound of snow now in your hand.

A shadow to your left running in tandem with you quickly became your target and you launched. You guess you missed, a moment later another snowball heading your way. Another quick dodge and another, You and Bucky began weaving and dodging, snowballs flying out in the dead of night like bullets.

Now an untold distance away from the game boundaries, you and he were truly alone here, determination and competition driving you both to an area of the dark woods neither of you had been before.

Somehow you and he had ended up in a rather large valley, rocks and cliffs dead ahead, leaving escape only the way you came from. And you weren’t about to run from this. You were going to destroy him.

Huffing from running, you sought to get some distance away from him before striking again.

“I’ve got you pinned, Barnes,” you called out, voice echoing in the valley, keeping him from knowing exactly where you were.

“Don’t think so, Y/N, not this time,” he said, velvet voice sounding like it was coming from all around you. “We’re not getting out of this cold and back to the compound ‘til I’ve got you beat.”

“Yeah,” you mumbled with half an eye roll. “Rather be at the compound hating me, than here, hating me in the snow.”

“What do you mean by that?” he asked, catching your words though you weren’t fully sure you were try to hide them. He carried on, his tone sounding obvious. “I don’t hate you, Y/N.”

“Yeah, you do Bucky,” you said, continuing to roll the snow in your hand, hardening the once soft snowball. “And for the record, you don’t play a very subtle game at it either.”

“It’s not a game, Y/N,” he called out, voice still echoing, but coming from a different location now. Your head snapped left, but you couldn’t pinpoint where he was.

“You’re right, you don’t just hate me for the fun of it,” you said back, bitterly. “Guess you must really mean it.”

“Stop, you know I don’t hate you,” his voice rung out, sounding serious and maybe a little closer?

You paused trying to hear anything but damn him if he didn’t have the upperhand here in the snow. How someone his size could move so silently you’d never know.

“How could I hate you?” he asked, making your eyes flash wide and panicked, whipping around at the suddenly close voice.

He was right behind you, hand at his side, face pulled into a confused look.

You threw your hands up in frustration at him sneaking up on your for the third time that night, which was definitely a mistake, because Bucky didn’t take it as an innocent (if not exasperated) gesture. Immediately his reflexes kicked in, hitting you again with a snowball, this time directly at your chest.

Gasping, you looked at him shocked, his face falling fast and hard.

Oh god though, you felt he broke your fucking sternum, pain overriding just about any other thought. But realization dawned on you as you felt the telltale feeling of warm liquid spread across your chest.

In a quick motion you zipped off your coat, the material (and thermos under it) falling away. It revealed dark red liquid spreading across your white shirt.

Bucky’s face went from deep regret to an even deeper and all-encompassing terror. You took half a step back as you looked down to your chest, but slipped on an unseen ice-covered rock, collapsing back into the snow and knocking the air out of you as your back hit the stony ground.

Of course this was how the night had to go.

But suddenly the dark appearance of Bucky was practically on top of you. His hands were on you, a flash of confusion and shock hitting you as hard as the ground had.

Bucky quickly was trying to rip the layer of clothes off of you, exposing thin fabric and flesh to the winter as he tore open your sweater and tank top underneath. You could only sputter, hands clutching onto his wrist uselessly until ice cold air finally entered your lungs again, bitter and stabbing.

Coughing, you tried to sit up but Bucky’s hands pushed you down.

“What’re- Bucky!- What’re you doing?!” you eventually forced out hoarsely.

You were now able to see a frantic panic and biting heartbreak in his eyes, staring down at you. As he caught the look in your own eyes, his movements suddenly stilled as fast as they had started.

He looked down at the small amount of ripped fabric covering your body, pressing his fingers into the red stain that drenched it before pulling away and rubbing his fingers together.

“This is not...What is this?” he whispered, confused.

“It’s my mulled wine,” you said, a mix of amused, exasperated, and pained. Clearly you hadn’t shut the thermos as well as you should have, Bucky’s close range and powerful throw enough to break the lid open and spill the warm liquid all over your chest.

“So it’s... not blood,” he said a sounding a bit dazed, his face as pale as the snow.

“No,” you said back, because with a look like that even you couldn’t help pitying your once friend, what with his crushed face that was only slowly coming to realize you were relatively fine. “The cap must’ve--”

He cut you off before you could explain more, his sudden movements freezing you still in the mound of snow you had fallen into. Because a heat in equal measure to the cold against your back erupted over you as Bucky moved flush to you, his lips sealing in blinding speed against your own. You lay there shocked momentarily as man who hated you suddenly was kissing you, pushing you deeper into in the ground.

But it only took a moment of bewilderment as his lips moved against yours, tinged a little desperate and urgent, before you began to truly feel the heat underneath that kiss.

You could have sworn you heard the crackling of a burning fire, tasted the smokey heat on your tongue, saw the red flickering flames behind your eyelids. That kiss seared you in the icy snow, stealing your breath and thought and burning it all to ash where you lay.

A deep sigh escaped from his soul as he pulled away, quick breathing returned to him for a different reason this time. He stayed clinging to you, face a breadth away from yours.

“But you…” you whispered, your turn to be dazed and confused. “You hate me? You have for so long?”

His eyes closed, half cringing against you as the ends of that long chestnut hair brushed your face. He hated those words, you could see it at this close distance, like hearing that hurt him.

“I don’t… hate you, Y/N,” he repeated, breathing the quiet words into the tiny space between your lips and his.

He struggled with what to say next, leaving you with breath held while you waited for the blow.

“I… I just…” he stumbled softly. “I almost watched you die in front of me and it was easier to push away… I mean it’s easier to not show… It was too hard to…”

Oh.

You thought you breathed the word and his eyes snapped open, only to look down as the warmth in his cheeks turned a tinge of red.

“Please don’t make me say it,” he continued in a whisper, shaking his head slightly. “I’m not good at saying it.”

Oh.

Okay, there it was.

The puzzle pieces clicked in place and you saw the whole picture now.

“Quite the opposite, I guess?” you said softly back, sounding a lot more breathless than you realized you were. Because if that kiss didn’t steal the air right out of your body, his unspoken words would.

“I mean,” he said, looking back up to you. “That is not why I ripped off your clothes, just to be clear.”

You could practically feel the heat radiating off of his face, embarrassed but also not drawing back. At least not this time, like he had before and for all those months.

And if he had the courage to just come out and kiss you, you could have the courage to not let him go back on it. You decided in that moment you wouldn’t let him. Maybe you had been too self-conscious and given up too easily when he all but removed himself from your life. You wouldn’t make that same mistake again.

Because you understood it. It’s easier to push someone away that you liked then let the pain of possibly losing someone in instead. You had almost died after all. And it’s easier for you to believe you’re not worthy of someone’s time- and maybe even love- rather than view yourself as too valuable to lose.

“And you’re okay?” he asked, vulnerabie and searching. “With me? With this?”

You took an extra moment in the frigid night and cold snow, still needing to even the score a little here (despite the frostbite a minute from sinking in).

“I guess I’m really conflicted here,” you said slowly, Bucky’s face contorting into one of pain in a second flat. “I mean, my chest is burning from the wine and my back is freezing from the snow.”

He wasn’t sure if he was going to throttle you or laugh, but he landed on smiling.

“I meant us and you know it, Y/N,” he said with that crooked grin you had missed so much over these last months.

You reciprocated with a grin of your own, knowing full well he wasn’t talking about the cold.

“I mean, yeah, I guess we would make a great team if we worked together, you and I,” you said cheekily.

You almost didn’t catch his eye roll as he stood up, taking you right along with him and carrying you close in his arms.

“Okay, just don’t almost die on me again, either for real or not,” he said as you shifted down to press yourself as close to the furnace of a man as possible.

“Well Barnes, why don’t I just stay this close you from now on?” you mumbled rather contently into his coat.

“Yeah doll, I think that’d be best,” Bucky said, bright grin lighting up the dark woods. You would be lying if you didn’t admit it lit your heart up too.

“Take me home?” you said up to him instead, sure your eyes told him the whole story anyways.

“Sure, doll,” Bucky smiled softly, hand brushing your cheek where earlier a snowball had hit.

He planted a small kiss on the top of your head, binding you in closer to his chest and carrying you back to the compound through the snow.

You might have sprinted out here “hating” each other, but you were walking back- maybe even a little slower than strictly necessary- feeling quite different. Sure, it was cold out here in the snow but your soul felt warmer than it had in a long time.

_______

A/N: The story in which Bucky can’t say his feelings and you almost get hypothermia because of it lol. A classic tale. Please let me know what you thought!

Permanent Tags: @dontpanc, @smodvocate, @bunsterjonez, @buckybonky, @marveloustrashpanda, @hangirl93, @captainrogerrsbeard, @friendly-neighborhood-lich-queen, @thisgirllikeme, @jjsoccer11, @innerpandablizzard-blog, @fanatic-fanfic, @mdgrdians, @christinky, @universal-death-of-a-fangirl, @cauraphernelia, @ailynalonso15, @cassiopeia-barrow, @1elboomdemsechevarria, @cameronskywalker, @rogrsnbarnes, @verygraphicink, @onlyanothersocialcasualty, @lisalisa007

Bucky Barnes Tags: @bexboo616, @kaaatniss, @lost-in-translating, @emabookcookie, @crazybutconfidentaf, @jitterbuck

[spidey-babe-parker]

This is unexpected

The first day of Christmas

Featuring: Bucky Barnes

WC: 1.4K

Warnings: fluff and cussing.

Summary: Bucky surprises his girlfriend out of nowhere.

AN: Merry Christmas everyone! This part of @buckychrist holiday challenge. The prompt is “Are you really proposing to me on [insert holiday]?”. This also going to be day one of my own 12 days of Christmas that I’m doing.

Three years is a long time to be in a relationship. It’s safe to say it was the happiest three years of her life. She was completely content was her and Bucky never getting married. Hell, before Bucky didn’t even plan on getting married, she always told herself if she did get married it would be at the court house in more of an eloping type of situation. That all completely changed when Bucky Barnes stole her heart. Being with him suddenly made her want a big white wedding, so everyone could see how in love they were.

It was a cold Christmas morning in New York and the sun had just started rising. The warm glow of the sun peeking through the curtains woke her up. The sun probably didn’t have too much to do with it though. She had always been a child at heart when it came to Christmas. Her whole life the latest she had ever slept in until on Christmas was six thirty in the morning, and today would be no different. Bucky was never much of a morning person and Christmas morning didn’t change that at all.

She pulled her body away from Bucky’s warm body that she had been curled up next to and slowly started stretching out her muscles. The bed moving right next to him slowly woke him up. His blue eyes slowly opened as he looked over at his girlfriend whose eyes were already lit up in excitement.

“Morning doll,” he murmured still barely awake.

“Merry Christmas,” she smiled as she rolled back over and pressed her lips to his smiling.

“Oh, is it Christmas today?” he asked with sarcastic tone knowing how much she loved Christmas.

She shook her head as she had a huge smile on her face, she leaned over and pressed her lips to his scruff covered cheek. “Yes, it is, and I’m ready to get up,” she lifted the cover and slowly crawled out of bed.

He watched her as she walked around their bedroom in her brand-new plaid pajamas, he had gotten her for Christmas eve. When they spent their first Christmas together, he was caught off guard when she gave him new pajamas on Christmas eve, and from the Christmas eve he it had become a new tradition between the two of them. She walked over to the bedroom door and grabbed her fuzzy door that was hang on the back of the door. She pulled it on and tied it up and turned around and looked at Bucky who was still sitting in bed.

“Bucky are you gonna get out of bed?” she asked opening the bedroom door.

He got a huge smile on his face and crawled out of bed slowly. He put on his warm slippers and walked over and grabbed her hand. They walked down the hallway hand in hand out towards the Christmas tree that was lit up and shining bright.

“Should we make coffee or go straight to opening presents?” he asked as his girlfriend walked over and sat down on her couch.

“I think I need coffee even though I want to open presents badly,” she said causing Bucky to let out a soft laugh. She really was like a child on Christmas, and he loved seeing how she lit up.

“I’ll make a quick pot of coffee,” he said walking towards the coffee pot. She walked into the kitchen and grabbed to cups from the cupboard as Bucky started brewing the coffee.

She leaned against the counter watching as Bucky reached into the fridge and grabbed the cream that was on the shelf. She couldn’t lie she loved living with Bucky, the simple things like this just made her so happy.

As the coffee finished brewing Bucky poured her cup coffee and she added cream and sugar in it. They walked into the living room and she sat down on the couch and put her coffee down on the table next to her. Bucky sat his coffee down and walked over to the Christmas tree where all their presents were under the tree for each other.

He grabbed a large box that he wrapped and sat it on her lap. She smiled and said, “grab the box that’s wrapped in the blue and silver paper.”

He picked up the box and walked over and sat down on the couch next to her. She started opening the present and got a huge smile on her face when she saw that he bought her the brown purse that she had been looking at for weeks.

“Bucky how did you know I wanted this?” she asked with her eyes lit up.

“Well anytime we went to the mall you constantly walked by it and gawked at it,” he said with a little laugh.

“Open your present,” she said wanting him to finally open what she got him.

He tore open the blue and silver paper and couldn’t help but smile at the new leather jacket she bought him. She loved the way he looked in a leather jacket and wanted him to have second one.

“Babe I love this,” he smiled.

“You looked pretty damn good in your other leather jacket, and I thought you would let to have another one in a different style.”

He leaned over and pressed his lips to hers before getting up and walked over to the Christmas tree. He grabbed a little box that was wrapped in pink paper and stood in front of her and hand it to her. She smiled assuming that he bought her the earrings that she saw that she mentioned that she liked. Tearing the paper open he she opened the box and was caught off guard at the diamond ring that was in the box. Her heart started racing and she looked up to find Bucky down on one knee in front of her.

Her eyes automatically started to brim with tears before he even opened his mouth to speak.

“Are you really proposing to me on Christmas?” it was the firs thing that popped into her head and she wasn’t even sure why she said it out loud.

His eyes went wide wondering if he was making a mistake by proposing to her on Christmas, “um.” He started to stutter. “I know how much you love Christmas, and I wanted to do this on a day that was special to you, because you are special to me.” He paused at looked up at his girlfriend to find her with a huge smile on her face.

“I love you so much,” she said as happy tears slowly started sliding down her cheeks.

“I don’t know what my life was before you, and I don’t want to go another day with out you being my wife. I never thought when I was with Hydra barely knowing who I was that I would ever have a normal life.” He paused because he started to get emotional, “But than Steve introduced me to you, and suddenly I saw a future I wanted. You are my world and I can’t imagine another day without you being mine. Baby girl would you please marry me?”

She got off the couch and got down on her knees in front of him and wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her lips to his for a passionate kiss. She pulled her lips away from his and started peppering kissing across his mouth and cheek as she repeated, “yes.” Over and over again.

He pulled her lips away from his and held her face in his hands and couldn’t help the tears that were now brimming his own eyes, “I love you more then words can even explain.”

“So, I’m gonna be Mrs. Barnes now?”

He nodded his head as he reached over for the box that held the ring that was sitting on the couch. She sat back on her hunches away from him as he grabbed the ring out the box. He reached for her hand and slid the engagement ring on her finger.

“I’m thinking about having a short engagement,” she asked looked at her sparkly diamond ring.

“I would literally marry you today if you want.” If she said let’s get dressed and go get married, he would literally get dressed the fastest he had ever gotten dressed in his life.

“I was thinking maybe in a few months,” she said leaning forwards and pressing her lips to his for a soft kiss.

“I love you baby girl,” he rested his forehead against hers.

“I love you too Bucky.”

All my taglist are open

@minahraven @breezy1415 @theonelittleone @tina8009 @mrsbarneswillseeyounow @lovesteverogersbaeworld @a-w-mouse @asia-mclaren @learisa @wishing4awinter @coal000

[blackberrywidow]

A Good Start

Paring: Bucky x drunk!reader

Summary: After a few drinks, you decide that now is the perfect time to confront Bucky about your feelings. 

Prompt: "You spiked the eggnog, didn’t you?”

Warnings: Language. Drinking. The reader is a lightweight. And more than a little confused. 

Words: 2.9k

A/N: Written for @buckychrist‘s holiday writing challenge. I had meant to do this by Christmas, but life got in the way so it turned into a New Year’s prompt... and it’s still kind of late. But that’s cool. Just a little warning, this was written while I was (and still am) slightly intoxicated. So I hope this makes as much sense as I think it does and isn’t complete garbage. Should feel more realistic at least!

You stumbled, throwing a hand out to catch yourself on a nearby pillar. Your head swam and the room seemed to be tilting. This was… not good.

You took in the situation, analyzing your surroundings methodically like the trained SHIELD agent you were. You were at the Avengers’ New Year’s Eve party, surrounded by superheroes and their friends and no one else, as you had been for the past three hours. If anywhere was secure, it was the Avengers compound. So what was it?

Poison? Bad shrimp? Sudden onset neurosis?

You had been drinking eggnog—not your favorite drink, but one of the few non-alcoholic options and it made you feel more festive—by yourself for the past few minutes, after Clint had wandered off to pester Sam instead. You hadn’t noticed anything wrong until you had stood, debating on whether you should go speak to Bucky…

Hey, that was a good idea. Bucky would know what to do. You liked Bucky. Did Bucky like you? Who knows? Maybe you should ask him.

Yeah, Bucky. You need to find Bucky. You weren’t sure why you were so nervous about that before.

You looked around, keeping your hand firmly pressed against the wall as you searched the room for the brooding brunette.

There. At the bar, talking to Sam and Clint. He seemed happy—or at least content, as he saw there sipping on a beer and grinning at some joke that Clint was in the middle of acting out.

You took another moment to simply lean against the pillar and smile at the sight. Bucky was rarely so relaxed with you—it was like he was unable to let down all of his defenses and simply enjoy your presence. Maybe he just didn’t like you. Or didn’t trust you? Maybe you should ask him that too.

Great idea!

You downed the rest of your eggnog with a grimace and set out once again, feet surer now that you had time to reorient yourself and anticipate the difficulty. You only stumbled twice before you tripped on a chair directly in front of the bar.

“Woah!” Bucky’s left hand—the one that wasn’t clutching his beer bottle, shot out to right you as you crashed into the bar. He caught you by your bicep and set his bottle down to help you stand again. “Are you okay there (Y/L/N).”

“Yeah,” you sighed, flipping your hair out of your face and smiling gratefully at him. “Totally fine. Thanks Bucky.”

You heard Clint and Sam snicker behind your back, but you ignored them as Bucky’s eyes widened and he seemed to be searching for the right thing to say. He settled on: “Uh… no problem.”

He wasn’t exactly eloquent, but that was nothing new. You had heard stories from Steve about the kind of player Bucky had been back in the 20thcentury. You wondered if that Bucky would be easier to flirt with, or if he would hate you too.

“I just, uh… I wanted to…” you trailed off, eyes narrowed as you swayed on your feet. You had completely forgotten what it was that you had come over here to talk to him about. It couldn’t be about his possible hatred of you, right? That seemed a little confrontational.

“You wanted to…” Bucky prompted, blue eyes watching you with an intense concern that made your heart warm. You weren’t sure why he was so worried though.

You were totally fine.

“Hey, (Y/N),” Clint called from behind you, and you twirled around to face him, Bucky’s hand automatically coming up to steady you again. For once, you easily ignored his touch. Clint was always so nice to you, and he knew sign language which seemed like it could be helpful somehow. Maybe he could help you figure out what you were here for? “Did you have anything besides that glass a’ eggnog to drink? You’re acting like Drunk (Y/N), and I thought that after last year we had all decided that you should stay fairly sober unless you have a designated handler prepared to deal with you.”

Your eyes widened and you heard Bucky ask in a strangled voice if Clint had said eggnog, but again, you ignored him. Your hand shot out to squeeze Clint’s in gratitude, to which he raised an amused brow and let you continue to hold his hand without comment during the few seconds it took you to gather your thoughts. “That’s why I came over here! Thanks Clint!”

You dropped his hand and whipped back around, coming face to face with a dumbstruck Bucky you still had a metal hand resting on your waist. “Bucky, I need to talk to you,” you said seriously, clarity overcoming you. “I think I’ve been poisoned.”

Bucky sighed and ran a hand down his face while Clint and Sam lost their shit in the background. You turned back to give them a reproachful look, thinking they weren’t taking your possibly imminent demise very seriously. Clint only laughed harder, clutching Sam’s shoulder for support while Sam sobered up enough to give you an apologetic smile. “Sorry (Y/N). We’ll uh… we’ll leave Bucky to help you with this one. I think that he can help you figure it out.”

He stood, hefting a still-laughing Clint up with him and left. You turned back to Bucky, brows furrowed, to find him giving their retreating backs’ a venomous look.

A shiver ran down your spine. You knew his Winter Soldier glare well, and it reminded you that you had other questions to ask as well. But first, your possible poisoning was the most important concern.

“Bucky? You know what’s going on?”

His gaze snapped back to yours, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think his eyes had softened and held a touch of guilt. “You drank the eggnog, didn’t you? I thought you hated eggnog.”

You blinked, surprised by the straight-forward and single-minded question, and even more shocked by his casual knowledge of your drink preferences. “Uh… yeah. I had a glass, and then Clint brought me another one when he came to talk. So just the two glasses. But a few other people have been drinking it—Natasha, Tony, and Rhodey for sure had some. Do you think that’s it? Should I tell them? Do you think they’ll be okay? So far they seem okay, but—”

Bucky held up a hand, trying to slow your wave of questions long enough to actually answer some. “No, (Y/N). They’re fine, I promise. Actually, you should be fine… Or at least, I think you should be. I didn’t put that much in there.”

You stared blankly at him for a long moment, trying desperately to understand what it was he was trying to say before realization dawned on you. “You spiked the eggnog, didn’t you?”

This time, you were certain the look on his face was guilt as he nodded at you. “Yeah… yeah I did. But I can explain!” Bucky rushed to say as you fell back into a chair, relief and annoyance ran through you.

You were happy that your brief notion that you had been poisoned in one of the most secure buildings in the world had been a fallacy, but you were annoyed that you were in this position. It was as Clint said—there had been an unspoken rule that you weren’t to drink at these functions after last year’s Christmas party. Which Bucky wouldn’t know about, of course, as he hadn’t been there to witness you fall off of the stage after trying to join the band and then puke into a tuba only seconds later. You were a lightweight, so you couldn’t really fault his logic—two drinks shouldn’t affect you as strongly as it was, but still.

“So basically, what you’re saying is that you drugged me?” you asked drily, waving the bartender down to request a water.

“No!” Bucky’s were even wider now, and he seemed to be struggling to find the words to explain himself, despite his assurances that he could. You just cocked a brow, coolly sipping on your water as you waited. Now that you knew you were just a bit buzzed, you knew the best way to combat your problem—keep your mouth shut and stop drinking.

“No,” he said again, closing his eyes and resting his head on the bar before looking up to meet your eye again, regret and resolution in his eyes. “That’s not what I meant to do. I didn’t even think you’d drink any of it, since I remember you saying that you thought it was ‘like drinking sadness’ at the Christmas party last week. I meant for Natasha to drink it.”

Your initial response was a pang of jealousy, which was just ridiculous, so you shoved it away and focused on your annoyance. Annoyed drunk (Y/N) was far better than jealous drunk (Y/N) or, god forbid, happy drunk (Y/N) anyway. This way you were just likely to fight someone, not confess embarrassing secrets or deface property.

“So… you wanted to drug Natasha?” you asked, keeping your tone neutral as you sipped at your water some more.

“Yes!” Bucky seemed relieved that you understood before he saw your brow twitch—a sure sign you were displeased. “I mean, no! It wasn’t really like that. Sam and I have a bet, you see. He said that there was no way I could sneak something into her drink without her noticing, and I did. Just won fifty bucks actually, because she just poured herself a third glass. So, you know, it was just a joke… kind of.”

“Uh huh,” you said, taking a moment to finish your glass of water before reiterating what he said. “So what I’m hearing is… you and Sam had a bet as to whether you could sneak something into a woman’s drink, and you saw no problem with this? And then decided to drug the whole thing?”

Bucky hesitated, seeming to mull it over. “Well… yeah, but considering that woman is Natasha, and no one else really cares for it, I don’t think the same rules apply.”

You gave him an exasperated look, which prompted him to groan and drop his head onto the bar. “I liked it better when you were happy and falling on me. Your disappointment really sucks.”

Something twisted in your stomach at his choice of words, and you were reminded of your earlier questions. You were now sober(ish) enough to know that blurting them out was a bad idea, but still…

“Well, Natasha can handle herself I suppose,” you said, waving the bartender down. Bucky glanced back up to you, brow raised and expression cautiously hopeful. It gave you the courage you needed. “And I’m pretty sure that she did notice that you spiked the eggnog, she just didn’t care. But I won’t tell Sam if you won’t.” And then, because you had decided that now was as good a time as any to not give a fuck anymore, you winked at him.

His grin was immediate. “You’re probably right, so I appreciate that. I am sorry—”

“Yeah, yeah.” You waved him off, bringing your attention to the bartender who had just appeared in front of you. “A shot of something cheap and strong.”

The bartender gave you an amused look. “Mr. Stark said it’s open bar, miss.”

“Something expensive and strong then,” you said, grinning brightly at him as he shook his head and fulfilled your request. You turned to Bucky, who was looking at you in bemusement.

“I thought that drinking was a no for you?”

“It is,” you said, accepting the shot of something brown that was slid to you. “But you already kind of screwed the pooch on that one, Barnes. Which means you’ve just put yourself in my debt. And I need a little bit more of this shit if I want to get through what I wanna say next. So no matter what, promise you’ll make sure I make it back to my room without embarrassing myself too much. And don’t let me get within five feet of any tubas. Period.”

He seemed skeptical and a little concerned, but nodded, a grin tugging at his lips. You took a deep breath.

“Then cheers,” you toasted, downing the shot with a wince.

You slammed the empty shot glass back on the bar top with a sharp intake of air, sending Bucky into Concerned Soldier mood once more. He brought a hand up to gently pat your back. “You okay?”

You ignored the question, turning to face him with a determination that you didn’t feel just a few moments ago. “I like you, Bucky Barnes.” His surprise at your sudden declaration was palpable, but you forged on. No time to turn back now. “I don’t really know what that means, given our line of work and your history. But I do. I think you’re amazing and funny and charming when you let yourself be, and I want to get to know that side of you better. But you seem so distant, especially around me. I don’t know if it’s personal, or if you just don’t want any new friends, but it seems like it is. Personal, I mean. It’s like you want to keep me out, and I’m just not really okay with that, you know? I mean… if you just hate me, that’s fine. But I want you to actually be up front and honest with me about it because… well, because I want you to I guess,” you finished lamely, losing steam the longer Bucky just stared at you blankly.

You were glad that your buzz was starting to come back, because otherwise you would be really embarrassed instead of just kind of embarrassed. Maybe you needed another shot?

You started to raise your hand to get the bartender’s attention, but Bucky stopped it with his own, grabbing it and gently lowering it back down to the bar. Your eyes flashed from your joined hands to his eyes, surprised to see affection and guilt once again.

“You’re right,” he said, eyes shifting down to look at your hands. Your surprise barely had time to register before he was continuing. “I do shut you out. But it’s not because I hate you. It’s the opposite, actually.”

He muttered the last part so lowly that you barely caught it, but you did, and you decided to run with it. “What do you mean by that?”

His eyes caught yours again, and your breath caught when they moved down to your lips for the briefest second. “I mean that I uh… likeyou too, (Y/N). I have for a while now, and that just kind of scared me, you know? I was a Hydra puppet for seventy years and then on the run and then Thanos and—”

“I get it,” you assured him, turning your hand up under his palm to squeeze it. “We all have a bad past, Bucky. Some worse than others. But they’re what made us who we are today. And who you are today is who I’m interested in. No past versions or any hopes for a better you in the future. You, as you are now. That’s it. Nothing more, nothing less.”

He sucked in a breath, clearly surprised. You kept silent, and he seemed to consider be considering that for a long moment, indecision and desire both clear in the lines of his face and the way his body seemed to be gravitating towards yours. You saw his decision in his eyes only seconds before he verbalized it: “Fuck it.”

His hand left your own only to cradle your jaw and bring your face up to meet his own. His lips brushed yours once, hesitant and gentle, before you leaned into it. Then it was a tangling of tongues and grazing of teeth, gasping breaths and smothered smiles, and you only stopped when cheers erupted all around you.

You jerked back, surprised and guarded, but Bucky only chuckled. He pointed at the TV screen across the large ball room, and you saw the city of New York mirroring the joy in the room. “It’s midnight.”

“Oh,” you said a little dumbly, head still swimming from the booze and Bucky’s kiss. You should get drunk more often.

“Happy New Year,” Bucky whispered, lips brushing your ear as he leaned in.

You sighed contently, nuzzling into his side as he put an arm around your shoulder. You weren’t sure where this left you; if you had really resolved anything or if Bucky would push you away again once the thrill of the night passed. But you didn’t really care. Another year had passed, and you and everyone you cared about had lived through it all, relatively happy and only slightly scathed.

If you were able to spend the next year with Bucky at your side… wonderful. If not… well there was always tinder.

“Happy New Year, Bucky,” you whispered back before pulling him down into another searing kiss.

You could only hope that it would be, but if nothing else, at least you were starting out the New Year right. With a slight buzz and the man of your dreams kissing you senseless.

It was a really good start.

Taglist: @desir-ae, @foggys, @tina8009, @littlebookbengal, @youclickedthislink, @everythingbooknerd

[amythingys]

Baby, You’re A Dream

Pairing: Bucky x Fem!Reader

Genre: Never had fluffier

Word count: 1.84k ish

Prompt: “So... the heat isn’t working.” 

Summary: Bucky and his significant other take a well-deserved break, taking time for themselves and each other. And, where better to do that than in a beautiful log cabin? Even when it seems things are going awry, they make the best of a still-pretty-good situation.

A/N: Hello! So it has definitely been a while since I’ve posted but now I am back and I have a few different things lined up and on the way. This piece is a very late entry for @buckychrist ‘s holiday fic challenge, which I am honoured to have been a part of! And thank you (as always) to @sgtbucketbarnes who is forever listening to my brainstorms and encouraging me with these pieces!

 Snow covered the ground as far as could be seen. The floor to ceiling windows offering a kind of portal to give them a glance into another world, one that could only be seen from the walls of the log cabin. And, it was a world where the hustle of the buzzing city that they came from was silenced, sometimes seemingly not existing at all. There was only snow in this world. Bringing glitter when the sun shone upon it and bringing light as it lay undisturbed as the moon took on the night. And as he stood at the door, putting their bags down to simply watch as she marvelled at their new surroundings, Bucky couldn't recall a time he had ever seen anything so beautiful. The cold on his back at his first meeting with this Winter palace was soon forgotten after all of the warm moments that he was to be blessed within the week to follow.

His first meeting with warmth was when he moved to the kitchen first thing after leaving her sleeping for just a while longer. There was a gas stove that greeted him, a little precarious for a log cabin, he thought but a tinge of nostalgia as he got images of the same kind in a 1940s apartment. Whether it was Steve's or his Ma's he wasn't sure. But that didn't matter, because the one he stood before was his- theirs, for a couple of days at least.

"She raises at last," He teased, glancing over his shoulder for just a moment before returning to the task at hand. That, and he knew if he let his gaze linger any longer on her as she walked across the wooden floor, hair sleep-mussed and his sweater sitting far too big on her frame, he'd never want to look away again. With his eyes trained on the bacon that was nearly cooked just to her liking, he listened to her grumbles. She hated early mornings but with a kiss, pressed to his shoulder he figured maybe they had become just a little more bearable with him. "Sleep well?"

She nodded, ducking under his arm swiftly to grab the coffee- his coffee before taking a drink and humming appreciatively. "Slept great, had a thousand blankets and my personal heater, didn't I?" The teasing quip in her tone was enough to push his small smile into a grin, and then a laugh as she poked at his sides and he did his very best to push her away. But he never let her get too far. "What about you? You didn't feel the cold or anything?" Bucky hated being cold.

 "Not at all, felt a little chill here and there but y'know," He got that look in his eye, one she knew very well and willingly stepped up to his side to get a closer look, "hard to notice when I got you pushing me so far off the bed I'm basically back in Brooklyn." Ah, yes; mischief. With another jab to his side and him insisting that he's sorry she was back on him after just a few seconds of sulking. Kisses were pressed to his cheek, nose brushing his jaw as she moved to his neck, all the while he tried to stay on task. 'Tried' being the keyword.

"You're very distracting you know that?"

"Very well,"

 And with that he turned the stove down most of the way, convincing himself that there was no way it'd burn if he chose to steal a couple of kisses from her. And a couple of kisses were stolen, that and tens more. Breakfast was almost forgotten until talking slowly started up again,

"Any dreams?"

"That you should be worried about, Buck?"

"Just any dreams at all."

"Well, there was this one..."

"Yeah? Go on."

 "And he was waiting for me, having breakfast on the go before 8 am." She murmured, his groaning at her subtle reminder causing her to chuckle before she pushed off of him to steal some more coffee and walk back to the bedroom despite the look of utter betrayal he was sending her way.

 "You better appreciate this breakfast!" He called to her, no real annoyance in his words - his smile made sure of that. And, with a laugh that lit up the cabin she replied,

"Always, baby."

 Bucky’s second meeting with immense warmth came when, in fact, no such warmth physically existed. But, through her gaze, the touch of her fingers upon his cool skin, he found himself basking in it.  He found himself craving it more than he ever had before.

It was their third night in the cabin, and all was blissful. They had nothing to worry about, barely anything to even think about that existed outwith the walls they were so comfortable staying inside. Y/N was by the window, sitting cross-legged and upright as she read what appeared to Bucky to be the most exciting book to ever be written, eyes moving along lines of prose that would carry her through the entire spectrum of human emotions just in the hour or so she had been sitting there. He simply sat watching her, his foot brushing her knee every so often just so he could see the way she would half-heartedly swat him away. He’d then return to his drink, continuing to gaze over the brim of his glass. And, as he watched her, with the setting sun just to her left he realised that he had always wanted a bay window for her to sit at. Whether it be there or with the snow being replaced with the streets of New York down below them, surely, he thought- he knew the sight would always be this breathtaking.

He cursed the next five minutes for disturbing their night.

“You cold?” She asked, breaking the silence that had become so comfortable for the past however long and setting an empty sweetener packet between the pages to keep her place. He never noticed until she brought it up, but the air was definitely cooler than he remembered it being.

“Wasn’t ‘til you brought it up.”

“Too busy drooling to notice?” He nudged her then, her feet falling from the window sill, causing her to in turn sit up but before she could give him what for like she had planned his lips found hers. Together they were soft, gentle… warm. All that they ever needed at that moment, but the moment was cut just too short as he pulled back, a small smile on his face.

“I’ll check the thermostat.” And, after she gave a quiet thank you, he was reluctantly away from her, walking across the floor to get the heating.

He couldn’t have been gone for more than five minutes but when he returned she wasn’t where he had last seen her. He called for her, and not a moment later she walked out of their bedroom. Except now, she was covered by a hoodie, one he definitely recognised as his but he couldn’t find himself caring all that much. He thought there was nothing more honourable than having her wear his clothes.

“So?” She asked, taking his hand on the way past to pull him to the sofa just a foot or so beyond where he already stood. They both fell to the cushions, his knee keeping him somewhat sitting whilst she fell onto her back, sweater now riding up to reveal the bottom of her stomach and the sleep shorts she wore.

“Well,” He started, fingers moving to pull the fabric back over her body but when they came into contact with her surprisingly heated skin he decided against it and opted to slide his, quite cold, hands up her sides. She writhed, the sudden temperature change causing a shiver before she gave an inquisitive hum, prompting him to continue. “So… the heat isn’t working.” he finally said, looking to her with just a tinge of fear in his eyes. Fear of ruining her week away, of ruining their bliss with this thing that he didn’t have any control over. And with the small pout that appeared immediately on her lips, he couldn’t help feeling a little guilty. “Sorry for ruining the week.”

“Not on you, Buck.” She promised, combing her hands through his hair as he let his head drop to rest against her belly. “Besides, it won’t be that bad. So, we’ll have to wrap up a little and maybe even stay in bed a little longer in the mornings - that wouldn’t be such a tragedy would it?”

He grinned, pressing a kiss to her exposed skin, mumbling, “Not even a little bit.” Before disappearing completely. He moved further up her body, kisses continuing up her torso until he couldn’t be seen for being buried under the hoodie. The giggles that fell from her lips meant that the pout no longer existed and instead a smile would be waiting for him when he sat up again. A mission accomplished, he thought. He moved so he could once again be seen by her, though this time, flushed cheeks and hair over his eyes which she would quickly move out the way.  

“Wait here a minute, doll. I’ll be back soon.” He whispered with the beginnings of a scheme in his eyes before leaving her on the couch with nothing but that hoodie and remnants of a kiss on her lips.

Another warmth that Bucky felt that trip, wasn’t too long after the second. He had left her on the couch for ten minutes, leaving to put his genius plan into action. And, though this plan was a very simple one he was sure it was probably his best idea for the past while.

He opened the bathroom door, a smug smile on his face. Heat from the hot bath waiting behind the door for them was enticing, pulling her to sit up and look over to where he stood, his jumper discarded and two robes in hand. A dream, she repeated to herself, recalling a moment of their first morning there.

“I’ve been thinking…” With his words, she was up from the sofa and walking towards him and a matching smile on her face.

“What have you been thinking, baby?” She asked with a certain kind of sweetness in her tone that was solely reserved for him. She took a moment to bask in the heat that the bathroom now circulated, reaching to pull the hoodie from her body and toss it back onto the nearest bit of furniture to them.

“Been thinking that maybe this heating going off is a sign.” his voice was low, gentle and sending a shiver up her spine as she leaned upwards, her lips meeting his in a slow kiss that brought enough heat to them on its own that the broken heating and the cold touches were now forgotten.

“Well, then what are we waiting for?”

[soft-stan-kisses]

Sometimes, it’s not perfect. Thats’s okay.

Rating : General Audiences

Pairing : Peter Parker x Gender Neutral Reader

Word Count : 972

Summary : Peter just wants this holiday to be perfect for you, because you really deserve it. But this is Peter, and you know how he is. It might be perfect, but it didn’t start out that way. You think otherwise. 

A/N : This is for @buckychrist ‘s holiday writing challenge. Honestly, got this done faster than I originally planned. It’s pretty short, so I’m sorry for that, but I added fluff, so I hope it’s cool for you! Happy Holidays!

*** This is just personal preference, but Peter is 18/19. I know that he’s technically 16/17, but it makes me feel better. That being said, this will not be explicit. He may be ‘old enough’ but that’s not the point. Hope you enjoy nonetheless! *** 

If anyone asked Peter Benjamin Parker, he’d absolutely say that you were perfection. You deserved perfection. And he wanted to give it to you. However, giving you perfection was really just as hard as one would think. And with Christmas coming up very very soon, he didn’t have enough time to dally around. 

His first thought was getting you some jewellery. He had the cutest idea too! He remembered seeing a cute post online on how this one guy gave his partner a delicate looking necklace with his first name, and said something like “here’s my first name for until I can give you my last name”, and that’s super cool! And really, really romantic. And definitely perfect. 

He gets a dainty little necklace off of Etsy and it’s rose gold, and it has his name in a pretty font. However, it’s over 35 dollars including shipping and whatever, and while it’s absolutely perfect when he gets it, he finds that he has to work overtime just to make sure he has enough money for food and all that. But it’s completely worth it- this is going to be perfect. 

The next thought he has is to get you a little bit of a gift the two of you could share. He’s seen a lot of those online too. Like making a little movie package. Popcorn, hot chocolate, snacks, and of course, the movie. Or he could get the two of you a matching outfit, which is also super cute. Or matching pj’s. 

And of course, he has to get you one last thing. Two things is just sad for him, and he can totally do better. He’s got the jewellery down, and the good Christmas gift is still being decided on. But when he sees that his local thrift store has some cheap decorations out, he buys them and happily heads home and starts decorating his little Queen’s apartment. 

He has a small tree that’s like, 4 feet, and it’s easily the cutest little thing, even if it’s fake. He put a little tree skirt around the base of it, and he thinks it couldn’t get any better. But it does, especially when he puts the lights around it and the picture of his precious puppy at the top, because she’s his precious angel and he loves her very much. 

He drapes garland from the ceiling a little haphazardly, and almost breaks his ankle because he just about fell from the chair he used to get it all up. But it’s completely worth it because his small living rooms looks festive and perfect and he wouldn’t want it any different. 

When the day comes (that day being the night before Christmas Eve because he hadn’t wanted to keep you from seeing your family and what not), he gently put his little precious baby in an ugly Christmas doggie sweater, which is so cute on her and it makes him so happy. And it will be perfect. 

He puts up a tiny little mistletoe (that totally cost more than it should’ve, which he is still mad about) up on the ceiling too- just in front of his tree. It’s very last minute, but maybe it’ll give him some good luck. 

When the doorbell rings, chocolate coloured eyes gaze around the small room, and he turns on the Christmas lights, letting the room fill with beautiful light. “Coming!” He called out, giving himself one deep breath before running to the door. 

Just before he reaches the door, the hairs on the back of his neck stand and he immediately pushes any bad thoughts away, and that’s a terrible mistake. A second later, his bare socked foot meets an object on the ground, and in an attempt to not break his foot, he jumps, only to slam face first into his door, definitely hurting his nose and his upper lip. 

But he doesn’t let that stop him. After he pulls away, he’s quick to open the door, only to see you, carrying your gifts and looking very worried. He had just slammed face first into the door, and that had made a noise. “Hey y/n, babe! Come in- please-“ He breathed, only to taste a bit of iron and be pushed back into the apartment by you. 

“Don’t talk, tilt your head forward and pinch the bridge of your nose right now.” 

So he does as they say as they carefully close the door and push him to the kitchen, sitting him down on a stool. There is blood basically pouring out of his nose and mouth and it’s not fun. You’re so helpful as he sits there. You’re making sure the blood doesn’t drip, even though he’s mumbling about he can do it himself. 

“Hush. Let me take care of you. You must’ve hit the door too hard.” 

And yeah, he definitely did, that’s for sure. He sits there until the blood stops, and just like that, you’re handing him an ice pack wrapped with a clean dish towel. Which feels really good on his nose and mouth, clearly. 

“Are you feeling better?” 

“Not really.” He tells you quietly, flushing slightly. “This isn’t how I wanted things to go- it’s not perfect.” 

“What do you mean?” 

Gently sighing, Peter closes his eyes and sits there for a moment. “I just wanted tonight to be perfect...” He mumbled quietly, and he doesn’t see them press closer. Doesn’t know you’re close until you’re kissing the back of his hand gently. 

“It will be. I got to take care of you, I think that’s pretty nice.” 

Chocolate eyes flicker open and seeing you there, he can’t help but smile. Okay. Things are still going to be perfect. Hopefully he doesn’t bleed again. 

You never really know with Peter, honestly. But you love him all the same. 

[bucksomecontent-blog]

We wish you a fluffy Christmas...

Here is my entry for @buckychrist​‘s Christmas Writing Challenge!  Just a little fluffy ficlet. This is the first fic I’ve ever actually written, so feedback would be loved <3  

Pairing: Established relationship Bucky Barnes X Reader

Word Count: 751

Warnings: Light swearing, gooey fluff, slight reference to sex.

(Prompt is bolded)

“Die Hard is the best Christmas movie and I won’t hear a word saying otherwise,” Y/N said firmly, flicking through Netflix.

“What the hell? Have you even seen Love Actually, that shit is unBEATable! Honestly, it’s the most heartwarming, charming, Christmas-spirit-y movie ever made. Die Hard doesn’t even count, it’s an action flick!” an impassioned voice exclaimed from behind the kitchen counter.

Y/N flipped herself around to stare incredulously. “Are you kidding me right now?”

Bucky shrugged as he came around to the sofa. “Being set during December does not a Christmas movie make, sweetheart.”

You stood up to meet him, doing your death glare. “Fight me.”

“Such unnecessary aggression,” he winked, “Have a little Christmas spirit, doll!” He smoothly produced a glass of…. something, and thrust it into your hands. Eggnog, maybe? But you didn’t think eggnog was supposed to be so… textured.

“Oh god, what’s this?” You wrinkled your nose suspiciously.

Bucky took a step closer and grinned wickedly. “This, my friend, is Christmas spirit.” You clinked glasses and took a tentative sip, while Bucky chose to take a big glug. Immediate regret.

You spat the drink straight back into the glass with a gasp, your reaction too visceral to worry about hurt feelings. “Oh,” you coughed, “Oh no.”

Bucky’s eyes watered as he swallowed his mouthful. “Come on, I think it’s alright…” He insisted, lip quivering as he forced himself to take another gulp of the drink.

You tried (and failed) to repress a giggle at his stubborn refusal to let you steal his thunder. He’d spent a long time in the kitchen, following an internet article on the world’s best eggnog (“Why do they need to tell me their entire life story before I get the recipe? They’re supposed to a recipe blog not an insipid anecdote blog!) while listening to Slade’s Merry Christmas Everybody on repeat. Just to be a prick, the only lyrics he pretended to know were “Are you hanging up your stocking on the wall?” He’d driven you (and himself, if he were honest about it) half insane by the time he’d finished. After all that, he wasn’t about to let a simple thing like taste stop him from enjoying his cocktail.

“This doesn’t distract me from your terrible taste in movie, by the way. I can’t believe I let myself fall in love with Mr Soppy Romance Film,” you teased, trying not to smile.

In one movement, he flopped onto the sofa, pulling you down onto his lap and putting your glasses on the coffee table. “Oh, so you’re in love with me, are you, sweetheart?” he purred, arm whirring softly as he smoothed his hands down your back.

“Not for long if you keep ruining Christmas,” you threw back as you grabbed a pillow and starting wapping him.

“There you go again with the aggression!” He laughed out loud, grabbing the cushion off of you and chucking it across the room.

As he said this, you absent-mindedly grabbed your glass and took a sip, before remembering too late why you weren’t drinking it. “Jesus, this hasn’t gotten any better,” you breathed, putting it back on the table with a firm clink. “I can’t believe you ruined Christmas music, movies, AND cocktails all in one night!” You draped your arms around his neck, putting on your best plaintive expression.

Bucky gazed at you with those startlingly clear blue eyes, affection and mirth shining out. “I’m awfully sorry, doll. What can I do to make it up to you? Something to make this night not such a bust…”

“Well sergeant, I might have me some ideas,” You lowered your voice conspiratorially, running your fingers through his dark, oh-so-soft hair. Your lips met, sending tingling shooting through you (you thought it would be less startling after so many times, but kissing him never got old), before he pulled back from you a moment later.

“I can still taste it…” Bucky grimaced, “The eggnog.”

“I thought you didn’t mind it so much, stud?”

“And I thought you wanted me to treat you real sweet tonight, but if it’s gonna be like that….” He began.

“Let’s go brush our teeth,” you interrupted quickly, grabbing your chortling boyfriend and pulling him with you into the bathroom. He stood behind you distractingly as you wet your toothbrush, whispering everything he wanted to do to you as he wrapped his arms around your front. The two of you ended up staying in that bathroom for longer than planned…

[hiswhiteknight]

Yippee-Ki-Yay

Summary:  The Reader takes the Christmas Movie - Die Hard, very seriously! And it the uproar of defending the greatest Christmas movie of all time, they discover Bucky has never seen it and intends to change that.

This was for the @buckychrist holiday writing challenge. The prompt being, “Die Hard is the best Christmas movie, and I won’t hear a word saying otherwise.” As someone who loves Die Hard, this was a fun one to write. Enjoy! And thanks Hayley for hosting this challenge and congrats on the 3.5k!!!

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Words: 1500

Warning: Fluff, Cursing, Implied smut

Wilson yelled over the group, stomping behind you, “Alright, that’s the last time Y/N is allowed to watch Die Hard during Christmas,” he made sure to yell loud enough for everyone to hear.

Captain, though no one knew, was getting sick of the banter between Sam and yourself, “This, I agree with Wilson.”

You spun around walking down the ramp backwards, “Die Hard is the best Christmas movie, and I won’t hear a word saying otherwise,” you put your hands over your ears and twirl around, skipping down the ramp.

“That’s an action movie, Y/N, very little has to do with Christmas,” Sam countered back, “Its focus is not Christmas.” You acted like you didn’t hear him, humming Christmas music under your breath to block him out, “And that’s not the problem, Y/N. The problem is you quoting nonstop during the mission.”

“What,” you shriek, acting offended, “I don’t do that. I’m a professional Samuel.”

You both were facing each other now, with Captain, Bucky, Clint, and Nat surround the both of you. Sam used his finger to start counting, “Well I don’t know,” he is acting like he had to think about all the moments, “Let’s see, ‘Welcome to the party, pal,’ ‘Come out to the coast! We’ll get together, have a few laughs,’ ‘Happy Trails, Hans,” he continued.

“The person’s name was Hans,” you yelled out, still sounding offended.

Sam looked bewildered, “It was a woman, Y/N, a woman.” The group chuckled, and Sam continued, point at Nat, “When Romanoff told you about a group of Hydra behind you, you responded with, ‘No fucking shit, lady. Does it sound like I’m ordering pizza,” he pointed out.

You paused for a moment trying to come up with an excuse. Your face strained, while sounding sarcastic, “Well,” you swallow, “She was late to the game. I was in the middle of fighting them already.”

Captain added his little, “We could have done without the language.”

Nat laughed, turning to spin away and get cleaned up. You grimaced at Captain’s response, clearly, he was on a side that wasn’t yours. Sam scoffed at you, using his hand to motion pushing you away, “Now I have a machine gun. Ho Ho Ho,” he finished, you looked unimpressed, “You were holding one of Stark’s laser cannons,” Sam yelled with a finish.

“It’s practically a machine gun, Wilson,” you continued, now urging the group to follow you. You all deserved some rest after this mission.

“Oh,” Bucky finally chimed in, “That’s why you were saying crazy things, they were movie quotes,” he smiled, feeling really proud of himself. Everyone stop, slowing turning to scowl at Bucky, “I thought you were just trying to sound more bad ass.”

You squinted one of you eyes at him, “I don’t need to sound bad ass,” you growled towards him, “I am bad ass,” you yell. You calmed your voice, trying to focus on the real problem, “Bucky, have you never seen the best Christmas movie of all time,” you question him softly, “Die Hard.”

He cocked his head, “That doesn’t sound like a Christmas movie,” the whole group erupted in a chuckle.

Grabbing his hand, “Well it is and if you say otherwise, I will cut you,” you yell for everyone else to hear. Sam yelled something back, but at the moment that didn’t matter.

Bucky didn’t pull away, “Am I about to be punished or something?”

You spun quickly, halting without a sign, which caused Bucky to slam into your little body, “We are going to my lair, where we are going to watch Die Hard, the Christmas movie.” You grip his hand again, pulling him with you, “But first, snacks.”

After you got all the snacks and changed into something not covered it gore, you shove Bucky down on the couch, “How many times have you watched Die Hard this year?” he asked curiously, getting comfortable next to you. He tossed his arm on the couch behind you and gave you all his attention.  You and Bucky were good friends, but there was this undisclosed tension and attraction towards each other. You’ve just grown to ignore it and Bucky has done the same, both ignoring it for different reasons.

Looking up the ceiling, you used your fingers to try to count, “You know, doesn’t matter.” You shoo the thought away, “Alright Bucky,” you turn to face him, looking awfully serious, “Prepare yourself to see the best Christmas movie of all time.”

Pushing some hair out of your face, “Consider me prepared, Doll,” he shared a smile with you.

You nod, like this was an official start to something serious and sat back against his arm. The movie started, but Bucky couldn’t help but steal some glances at you. You continued to quote the movie under your breath, even motioning the same gestures as John McClane did. Bucky loved how you loved this movie. And he could even understand why you felt this was a Christmas movie. Especially because you made sure to comment on every Christmas reference and thing in the movie, “Should I be taking notes,” he teased back at you.

“Not your worse idea,” you smirk, squeezing his thigh, than leaving your hand there. He became well away of what you were doing to him.

Bucky continued to push you by pointing out the lack of plausibility to some of the action sequences, “See that, that couldn’t happen,” he said as a whisper, not to take your complete focus away from the movie.

“Barnes,” you growl, pausing the movie to look at him, “As a fellow super spy, I’m well aware of the believability of action movies. So shut your gob and use your imagination. Just enjoy what this is, which is the greatest Christmas movie of all times.”

His grin lit up the room. Your passion and seriousness over a movie were enduring and he loved it. So, he took this pause in the movie to lean forward, placing one hand on your hip, and the next on your neck to kiss you. He had made you forget the fact that you were watching a movie you loved dearly with his soft lips and gentle grasps. You had made yourself forget how much you wanted this and now that it’s happening you get carried away.

After a few moments, you both separate to look at each other. Bucky runs his hand through his hair, letting out a deep breath. You straightened your shirt, wetting your lips again, “You must have really liked the movie.”

“Well,” he cocked his head to look at you again, “I don’t really have anything else to compare it to. I haven’t seen any other Christmas movie,” he leaned in coolly to kiss you again, but you pulled your head back.

“Are you kidding,” you said disgusted again, “Bucky, you haven’t seen any of the classics?”

Bucky scratched the back of his head, “Well Doll, I haven’t had much time to watch many flicks. I’ve been busy.”

You shook your head, “This will not due,” you get up, going over to your shelf, “You can’t have you spouting off about Die Hard being the greatest Christmas movie of all time while you have nothing to compare it to. That would taint the evidence.” You were pulling out a ton of films, “I hope you don’t mind spending the night with me, we have a lot of research to do,” you look back at him with a smile. He looked you up and down, giving you a curious glance. He didn’t want to assume what you were inferring, though he was intrigued. And with a glimmer in your eye, you finished your statement, “We can take the occasional break between movies, you know to discuss the film and such,” you sent a wink his way.

“And such,” he added, “I think I need a break right now,” he grabbed your arm and pulled you down under him.

“I was hoping you’d say that,” you grinned up at him, loving the feel of him against you. You leaned down to kiss him but pulled back again. You gave him a teasing grin, “But first, you have to swear your allegiance to Die Hard.”

He shook his head, “How about I say it’s a Christmas movie,” you didn’t give him a convincing smile. You growled at him, pinching his arm, though it didn’t phase him at all, “Though I will swear my allegiance to you and only you darling,” his grin grew larger. He cradled your cheek, using his thumb to gently stroke, “My bad ass, over dramatic, movie quoting babe.”

You played with the collar of his shirt, trying to act coy, “I’ll just ignore the over dramatic part,” you shrug before pulling him fully down on you. As you closed your eyes, you blessed John McClane for this little get together. You knew this was going to be a wild, playful night. As you moved positions, you sexy grin, saying, “Yippee-Ki-Yay.”

[buckychristwrites]

Hey congrats!! I would love to do your writing challenge, with the dialogue prompt “Is the Nightmare Before Christmas a Halloween movie or a Christmas movie?” and Bucky. This is gonna be fun.

Thank you!!!! And absolutely!!!!!!!!!! I can’t wait to see what you come up with!!!!! and hell yeah that’s a good one lmfao

Hayley’s Holiday Writing Challenge

[buckychristwrites]

Heyy! Congrats on 3.5K! you fucking rock! And the holiday challenge is so amazing! I can't decide on which I wanna write but you've certainly inspired me for a lot of seasonal writing(I hope anyways, given life gets in the way of writing T.T) and yay i can pick up to two so i guess i'll do that? could i please take dialogue prompt #33 with bucky? and the 11th prompt too (the secret santa)? if possible? those kinda spoke to me the most so... idk ahhhh im excited. anyways have a wonderful day!

THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!!!! AND HELL YEAH!!!! honestly i’ve been hyped for this since last month lmfao i marked you down!!!!!! i’m excited too!!!!!!! You have  a wonderful day too!!!!!

Hayley’s Holiday Writing Challenge

[buckychristwrites]

IM DEAD!!!! this is so cute!!!! Honestly all the banter felt so NATURAL!!!! And it was genuinely funny and just a joy to read. Bucky and the dog had me all up in my feelings, but any mention of bucky does that 😩 “I love your dog!” had me ROLLING. Such a lovely story, with beautiful pacing and great detail. Thank you so much for writing this!!!!!

New York Before Christmas

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Word Count: 1800

Summary: The Iconic Duo discover Steve’s holiday hideout.

Warnings: Death by fluff. Swearing. There’s also a dog.

A/N: This is written for @buckychrist​’s Christmas Writing Challenge – congrats on 3.5K, you utter legend! My dialogue prompt was 8. “The next carollers that show up here are getting murdered. I’m not joking.” which is in bold and italics below. This is sort of a companion piece to 5AM and October Morning.

Masterlist here lovers.

———

You’d been making out for hours on the coldest day of the year. Warm wandering hands touched clothed then half-clothed bodies, lips smiling on lips, swollen from kissing, being kissed, and mouths on heated skin when the carollers came calling on the door.

“Rogers,” you whispered with smiling lips, pressing a kiss to his impatient lips and trying your best to ignore the heat stirring between your thighs as you strived to untangle yourself from that godforsaken broad and brawny body. “Your door?”

Stark blue eyes shared a question with your own, beckoning in the electric space between as you felt his fingers brush carefully along your waistband, running softly, slowly, up the skin of your spine, and sending a shiver of want and desire in a bid to stay as he pressed you flush against his chest, warm beneath the sheets.

“Didn’t hear a thing,” he replied and then his lips were on yours again.

The doorbell called again and Steve groaned. New York City had a population of over eight million people and of all the goddamn doorbells to ring on the eve of Christmas, they had to pick his.

Keep reading

[buckychristwrites]

Can I do the dialogue prompt “I just wanted it to be perfect” for Peter Parker? (I’ll be posting it on soft-stan-kisses ) Hope you have a nice day~

@soft-stan-kisses it’s yours!!!!!!!! Thank you for joining!!!!!! Can’t wait to see what you come up with!!!!!!!!!! :D

Hayley’s Holiday Writing Challenge

[buckychristwrites]

uhm hey Becca i have a few questions and they are as follows

HOW DARE YOU

WHAT KIND OF ENDING WAS THAT

WHAT THE FUCK

if you could have the answers to those questions on my desk by monday morning, that would be great!!!!

I SERIOUSLY LOVE THIS THOUGH HOLY SHIT

PREMONITIONS 2 (1/8)

or, Adventures in Pursuit of a Seven-Year-Old Seer

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Words: 1758 Prompt: “Please get out of the snow, you’re going to get sick, and possibly die. And that would really ruin the holidays.” Summary: It’s been over a year since you met Bucky, and you couldn’t be happier. If only you could figure out why your precognitive niece is burying you in abstract crayon art… A/N: Happy holiday month, and buckle in! This is a sequel to PREMONITIONS, or, Adventures Adjacent to a Six-Year-Old Seer. This story can be read on its own, but the prequel obviously provides some background. Plus, it’s fun :P I started this as part of @buckychrist’s Holiday Writing Challenge, so THANK YOU HAYLEY for an awesome inspiration!! I hope you all enjoy :D

Bucky runs after Gemma, a feral grin on his face and a snowball in each hand. You cower behind the slide, laughing, until seven-year old Gemma jumps in a pile of snow with a shriek and Bucky turns to you.

“Ahh! No, Bucky!” You bolt off as he closes in, but a snowball hits your hat clean off your head. Bucky grabs you from behind and twirls you in his arms. His chest rumbles with his gleeful laugh, and you can’t help giggling along.

Bucky finally sets you down. The playground spins around you, and you quickly steady yourself against him. He cups your cheek with his snowy glove and drops a kiss on your lips.

“I win,” he says, smug as anything.

“You cheat,” you retort, brushing the snow from your face.

Bucky scoops up your hat and knocks it clean against his jeans. “Well, I suppose I do have an unfair advantage.” He pulls your hat over your hair. “You’re just physically incapable of staying away from me.”

“Ha ha,” you deadpan, but your lips twitch. You glance over at Gemma, who’s making snow angels, and angle yourself so she can’t see as you slip your hand under Bucky’s jacket and trace a finger over his abs. “You love it.”

“Damn straight,” he growls, eyes darkening.

Keep reading

[evanstarff]

New York Before Christmas

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Word Count: 1800

Summary: The Iconic Duo discover Steve’s holiday hideout.

Warnings: Death by fluff. Swearing. There’s also a dog.

A/N: This is written for @buckychrist​’s Christmas Writing Challenge – congrats on 3.5K, you utter legend! My dialogue prompt was 8. “The next carollers that show up here are getting murdered. I’m not joking.” which is in bold and italics below. 

This is part of the Morning After series. Masterlist here lovers.

---------

You’d been making out for hours on the coldest day of the year. Warm wandering hands touched clothed then half-clothed bodies, lips smiling on lips, swollen from kissing, being kissed, and mouths on heated skin when the carollers came calling on the door.

“Rogers,” you whispered with smiling lips, pressing a kiss to his impatient lips and trying your best to ignore the heat stirring between your thighs as you strived to untangle yourself from that godforsaken broad and brawny body. “Your door?”

Stark blue eyes shared a question with your own, beckoning in the electric space between as you felt his fingers brush carefully along your waistband, running softly, slowly, up the skin of your spine, and sending a shiver of want and desire in a bid to stay as he pressed you flush against his chest, warm beneath the sheets.

“Didn’t hear a thing,” he replied and then his lips were on yours again.

The doorbell called again and Steve groaned. New York City had a population of over eight million people and of all the goddamn doorbells to ring on the eve of Christmas, they had to pick his.

He buried his face into the pillows as you finally unfurled yourself from the blankets, slowly, reluctantly, drawing your warmth away from his near-overwhelmingly sweet and hardy form. Steve heard you feet scamper across his well-worn floorboards, that boisterous dog of golden retrieving goodness you’d managed to drag across state lines in barking tow.

---

It had been weeks ago when your face was dumbstruck with suspicion and downright fear when he asked you to his place in the city over Christmas. Mouth spluttering and pulling expressions in all his favourite, hilarious ways as your face painted the picture of someone discovering Santa really was real, but also um – what?

“You’re joking, right–”

“No, why would I be?”

“No, why would Captain America want to spend Christmas with the epitome of self-deprecation and their dog?”

He loved the way your eyes narrowed, how your lashes framed them in disbelief in what he considered among the top three things he adored about you.

“Why wouldn’t he?”

“But–?”

“I love your dog?” He offered and then the tone changed, like a match-lit firespark.

“And what am I, chopped liver?”

“I could be into that.” Steve didn’t bother trying to keep the smile from his face.

“You could be into worse.” You snorted, eyes laughing.

“I still would really like you to come for Christmas.” God, he was so, SO sweet.

A pause, then your brain short-circuited, remembering. “Is Sam going to be there?”

“Sam kind of works for us, so he might–”

“He will literally never let me hear the end of–”

And then he’d kissed you, firmly, wonderfully and by way of shutting you up, knowing you’d already decided yes in your nervous, determined way as your favourite big, dumb dog barked its approval in the background of your small apartment home.

Steve had accounted for everything. Discretion (no one needed to know you were dating Captain fucking America, no pun intended thanks), long walks to the hot dog stand with your dog in tow and preferrably after midnight (easier for you to disguise your ability to eat your weight in meat – also um, dating Captain America), and a place for you to stay (his place on the outskirts of Brooklyn, of course).

What he did not account for was your sheer, full-body vibrating enthusiasm for all things Christmas in all its extremely very loud everything.

---

Steve listened as his old, familiar door opened with a stuttered creak and the wall of noise burst through the cool spaces of his apartment.

“I don't want a lot for Christmas, there's just one thing I need–”

He bristled as the carollers burst into some song about you and Christmas in all its excruciating ambience. His mood wasn't intentional. He loved the holidays. Truly.

Except for the fact that earlier that day, he'd followed you out like a lovesick puppy among the rush of 21st century Christmas crowds, shoulder to broad heated shoulder with people faceless to the cold, feet scuffing the sidewalk, freshly plowed and gleaming white bright like fairy lights. Bags upon bags of gifts, the sheer loud display of lights and decorated consumerism offending every shopfront, and food supplies like a civilisation preparing for some oncoming famine.

Steve remembered how it once felt in the cold chill of winter on the wooden floor of that small Brooklyn flat. Hands chilled before the fire as a small yet still wonderful Christmas dinner was laid out before the table – usually three oranges instead of fruit cake, scarce yet treasured all the same. He remembered the warmth of his sweet mother, the way her soft sleeves tucked in her wrists just so, fingers smelling of warmth and fruit and love as she pressed those hands to his cheeks and kissed his small blonde head. Christmas morning at the Barnes’ household, small meagre gifts of paper and charcoal, wrapped sweet and loving all the same. It was warm and soft in the heart of his memory – valued and adored and so different to how it was now.

If there was anything he hated more than carollers, it was crowds on the eve of Christmas. Too many people, too many loud people and loud everything. They made him nervous, vaguely paranoid and irrationally curt, like the old men he once abhorred the idea of ever becoming yet now realised in the face of his probably long lifetime of Christmases just how right they truly were.

Had it not been for all your charm, your patience, and the way your eyes seemed to brighten the entire home in his heart whenever you glanced at him, he may have decidedly entirely against stowing you away from the world – his friends mostly, but the world nonetheless.

Listening carefully, Steve surmised that the carollers had completed their mission and were ambling to the next house. Their echoed voices became a sweet hum as they carried out through the cool air of the season and he figured this was the most appropriate time to emerge.

Steve unfolded himself from the covers and ran a hand through that sleep-mussed, kiss-rushed blonde as he shuffled out of the bedroom. His front door angled to a close and then suddenly another chorus – one of Hey babygirl, whatchu doing in New York, followed by a what the fuck, Sam? And shortly after – oh hey, Bucky, you look good.

Sam. Bucky.

Steve had forgotten – or chose not to, either or – tell his two brothers you were in town.

“We really gotta stop meeting like this,” Sam began, dark eyes sparkling at the freight train of shock and mild humiliation running through your face.

“I’m–”

“Hey Sam,” Steve blinked, half-sleepy and half-embarrassed at the same time.

“Good morning – afternoon?” The image of one Samuel Thomas Wilson grinning like the damn sun was shining out of the back of his skull was beginning to grate on your nerves. “What time is it, Bucky?’

“Afternoon.” A pause. “Ish.” Steve could see Bucky already had his hands full with his decidedly favourite dog – mostly yours, but definitely Bucky’s now in this moment and for however long the beautiful creature let him run his fingers through those golden furs.

You watched Steve’s face darken almost knowingly as he read your expression before speaking, his voice low and steady. “The next carollers that show up here are getting murdered. I’m not joking.”

“Good thing I don’t sing, Cap,” Sam replied, then he paused in his infuriating way that reminded you of all the times he tried to set you up in college – the term ‘wingman’ was used loosely back then, you decided.

“Thought you might need some company these holidays,” he spoke again, eyes flitting gleefully to Steve, then you. “Clearly I was mistaken.”

“Clearly, I need to clip your wings.” A half-warning you threw back to your oldest friend, though your narrowed eyes laughed.

“And clearly, I’m hungry,” Bucky chimed in, hands pulling Sam back towards the door as his clear, winter blues rested apologetically on yours. “We can go – leave you two alone.”

“You know they’ve been alone all day, right?”

“Listen, I know you’re into birds – but have some standards, yeah?”

“Wow.”

“I’m just sayin’–”

“I’m of the highest standard, Buckman.”

“Are you? Really–”

“Okay, okay – settle down.” Steve was laughing, heartily and full-bodied in the way that seemed to warm the entire space among you and dissolve the quiet tension in the moments before. “We’ll come with you – this fella needs a walk anyway.”

He nodded towards your beautiful dog, then glanced to you, feeling and adoring the way your nervous eyes became distracted as they traced the pull and curve of his infuriatingly well-fitted sweater, carving all that brawn and muscle in the way that had heat crawling from your neck to your thighs.

You shook your head to starve away the renewed ache to stay in bed between the sheets. Steve was right – you guys really needed to get out of his apartment at some point.

Four sets of feet and a four-footed creature stepped out into the dusk of New York in the winter. Crisp air biting the apples of your cheeks, brisk and almost numbing through your nose and lungs.

Sam and Bucky had bounded ahead, aiming for the hot dog stand at the far corner of the park, grey-slushed and cool asphalt beneath feet as the trees crept a canopy of branches above. Your dog was definitely the greatest dog in the world, tail wagging warm, well-fed and well-loved.

“You alright?”

You glanced up, watched his face, his lips, curving in satisfaction in the way it made you recall how they curved around various parts of you from the night before and you swore he could feel the heat radiating from your body.

Steve wrapped a coated arm across your shoulders, pulling you close. He smelled of wonder and adoration, a little amber too, and if you were truly paying attention, the remnants of special kind of sleep that only you could recall from the night before, bundled up with the snow drifting outside his window you spoke secret words between hot, breathless lips.

He watched your face turn shy and sweet, glancing nervously at him, curious and adoring all at once. Chose to kiss you, because it was Christmas Eve and he couldn’t help himself, hot and lush and languid in your mouth, your gloved hands pulling his collar closer before choosing at last to let him go.

Steve nudged your nose, frosty against his own, warm and comforting as you felt the smile in his lips on yours, like a fire burning in the hearth on a cold winter’s day.

“I am now.”

---

Masterlist again if you like my trash 🖤

[beckzorz]

PREMONITIONS 2 (1/8)

or, Adventures in Pursuit of a Seven-Year-Old Seer

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Words: 1758 Prompt: “Please get out of the snow, you’re going to get sick, and possibly die. And that would really ruin the holidays.” Summary: It’s been over a year since you met Bucky, and you couldn’t be happier. If only you could figure out why your precognitive niece is burying you in abstract crayon art... A/N: Happy holiday month, and buckle in! This is a sequel to PREMONITIONS, or, Adventures Adjacent to a Six-Year-Old Seer. This story can be read on its own, but the prequel obviously provides some background. Plus, it’s fun :P I started this as part of @buckychrist’s Holiday Writing Challenge, so THANK YOU HAYLEY for an awesome inspiration!! I hope you all enjoy :D

Bucky runs after Gemma, a feral grin on his face and a snowball in each hand. You cower behind the slide, laughing, until seven-year old Gemma jumps in a pile of snow with a shriek and Bucky turns to you.

“Ahh! No, Bucky!” You bolt off as he closes in, but a snowball hits your hat clean off your head. Bucky grabs you from behind and twirls you in his arms. His chest rumbles with his gleeful laugh, and you can’t help giggling along.

Bucky finally sets you down. The playground spins around you, and you quickly steady yourself against him. He cups your cheek with his snowy glove and drops a kiss on your lips.

“I win,” he says, smug as anything.

“You cheat,” you retort, brushing the snow from your face.

Bucky scoops up your hat and knocks it clean against his jeans. “Well, I suppose I do have an unfair advantage.” He pulls your hat over your hair. “You’re just physically incapable of staying away from me.”

“Ha ha,” you deadpan, but your lips twitch. You glance over at Gemma, who’s making snow angels, and angle yourself so she can’t see as you slip your hand under Bucky’s jacket and trace a finger over his abs. “You love it.”

“Damn straight,” he growls, eyes darkening.

“Bucky, look!” Gemma calls. “I made a snow angel!”

Bucky squeezes his eyes shut and pulls back from you with a warning look. “Later,” he mouths. He jogs over to Gemma. “That’s awesome! Think this pile is big enough for me to try at it, too?”

You laugh and follow him over. By the time you get there, Gemma is sitting on his chest as he spreads his long limbs out in the snow.

“Oh hey you,” he says. “How’d I do?”

You squint at the blob—Gemma’s snow angel, plus whatever Bucky’s managed. “It’s something, that’s for sure. Now, how about we head back and get some of that awesome mulled cider your mom makes, Gemma?”

“Yeah!” Gemma bounces over to you, tugging on your arm.

“Girl, you are growing!” You make an effort to lift her off the ground. “So big!”

Bucky grins. “Yeah, maybe you’ll be as tall as me one day!”

“No I won’t!” Gemma says. “You’re too tall!”

“Well, I think I’m just right.” He tucks his hands under his head and smirks up at you. “What do you think, darlin’?”

“I think that’s confidential.” You wink at him. His chuckle warms you like nothing else. “Now please get out of the snow! I haven’t had Sarah’s mulled cider in ages.”

“Nah, I think I’ll stay right here.” Bucky’s eyes twinkle as he stretches.

“If you do, you’re going to get sick, and possibly die.” You ignore his raised eyebrows and bend down to whisper in Gemma’s ear. “And that would really ruin the holidays.”

Gemma giggles. “Come on, Bucky! If you want I bet we can have hot chocolate instead!”

“Hot chocolate?!” Bucky surges to his feet in a spray of snow. “Say no more!” He swings Gemma up onto his shoulders and marches off towards her house, grabbing your hand and pulling you along.

It’s near twilight by the end of your five-minute walk, and your free hand is chilly even in your pocket. Gemma’s teeth are chattering as you lift her down from her perch on Bucky’s shoulders, and you squeeze her close as you wait for someone to open the door.

“Hey!”

“Hi Dad!” Gemma says. She wriggles free and runs inside, plopping on the mat just past the door to tug off her boots.

Matt watches her with raised eyebrows for a moment before turning back to you and Bucky. “Hey guys,” he says. “C’mon in.”

“Please tell me there’s cider left,” you say.

“It smells amazing,” Bucky adds.

“Yes, there is cider left,” Sarah calls. She comes in from the kitchen and gives you a hug, but pauses when she sees snow still on Bucky’s coat. “Have fun at the park?”

“Of course,” Bucky says, eyes wide and innocent. “Although I admit to cheating at snowball tag.”

You bite back a snort and shuck off your coat. “After all this time I am still not used to losing.”

“It’s funny, cause you always beat me at tag,” Matt chimes in, passing you a mug. “You sure there’s no chance of getting an upgrade?

“Are you kidding? She’s perfect as she is,” Bucky says. He wraps his arms around you and plants a sloppy kiss on your cheek. “After running after Steve, being able to catch this one is real nice.”

“I bet,” Matt says. “Hey Gem, why don’t you grab that drawing for your aunt?”

“Okay!” Gemma runs upstairs, her feet pounding on the wood all the way to her bedroom.

You raise your eyebrows at Matt. “Another drawing? I’m drowning in Gemma original abstract art!”

“Yeah, it’s weird how she never gives you people,” Sarah says from the couch. “Come sit.”

You settle in the living room. Bucky tucks you against his side. The mug of cider is warm in your hands; Bucky’s right hand on your back is warmer still.

“You know,” Sarah continues, “she’s gotten pretty good at drawing people. There’s actually a drawing of you on our fridge, Bucky. Have you seen it?”

“Not yet! I’ll check it out,” he promises.

“Well, maybe she’ll draw me one day.” You perk up as Gemma’s footsteps echo overhead and clomp down the stairs.

Gemma skids to a stop in front of you, brandishing an abstract mishmash of colors. “Here you are!”

“Thanks, Gemma!” You take the paper gently and bite your tongue. “What is it?”

“It’s for you,” Gemma says.

“Yeah, but… what is it?”

She shrugs and crawls up onto her mom’s lap. “Put it on your fridge! You’ll see.”

“Ah, there’s that ominous niece of mine,” you tease. “Maybe I’ll go blind before I figure it out!”

“You won’t,” Gemma says. She turns to face you, her little face serious. “You’ll see.”

A chill passes through you as Matt gives you a nervous look. You cuddle closer to Bucky, who’s fiddling with his phone. You raise your eyebrows—the text from Steve isn’t a good one. “You okay?” you murmur.

“Yeah, sorry.” Bucky grimaces and stuffs his phone back in his pocket. “I need to head out, though. Can you come with?”

“Of course,” you say.

“Sorry you can’t say,” Matt says. He reached over and tugs on Gemma’s ear. “Say bye, Gemma.”

“Bye!” Gemma’s back to smiling, but you can’t forget the severity in her face just moments before.

“I’ll see you soon, Gemma,” you promise. You lean over to give her a kiss on the cheek, and she grabs your wrist. She lifts your hand with her drawing.

“On your fridge,” she says. “Don’t forget.”

You scan her little face, your brow pinched. “Of course not, sweetheart,” you tell her. “Your word is my command.”

She smiles. “Good.”

Bucky sighs as you close your apartment door. “I wish I could stay.”

“Well, how soon does Steve need you?” You hang up your keys and coat by the door and lean against the wall.

“Honestly? I should’ve gone straight upstate.” He tangles his metal fingers in yours and pulls you close. He cups your chin with his other hand. His eyes are impossibly soft. “I guess I’m physically incapable of leaving you.”

“Oh you.” You stand on tiptoe and kiss him deep, snaking a hand under his shirt. He hums into your mouth, but pulls away with a shudder when you slip your hand lower.

“You are making this impossible, you know,” he groans.

“What a shame,” you murmur, but you hold your hands up in defeat. “Well, I know better than to get on Steve’s bad side.”

Bucky snorts. “Fair enough.” He kisses you briefly. “What happened to Gemma’s drawing?”

“Oh, thanks for reminding me.” You fish the folded page out of your back pocket and head to the kitchen.

Bucky freezes in the doorway. “Wow. That’s… quite a collection.”

“She keeps giving me these abstract drawings,” you tell him. “It’s been going on for like two months. Every time I see her—”

“Well, she’s prolific, if nothing else.”

“Her drawing of you is plenty good,” you argue. You finally find a free magnet and wedge the new drawing on the side of your fridge. “I just get this weird stuff. But you heard her. It’s bound to come in useful at some point.”

“I guess so.” Bucky scratches the back of his head with a frown.

“It’s Gemma,” you remind him. “If she says I need to keep it—”

“Then you keep it,” he finishes. He joins you by the fridge and taps the photo front and center. “At least there’s still room for my ugly mug on here.”

“Well, I’m not going to forget what you look like anytime soon.” You squeeze his arm fondly as you look at the photo of the two of you, grinning like loons. “Just don’t stay away too long this time if you can help it, huh?”

Bucky nods and kisses your forehead. “Yes, ma’am.”

New Year’s passes before Bucky comes home, but you celebrate with him anyway. A few days late, but still a night to remember.

Days later, you still can’t keep from smiling goofily every time you remember the candlelit dinner and Bucky’s expert attention. If your coworkers tease you, well, that’s on them.

You’re sitting on your couch, mindlessly scrolling through Netflix as you wait for Bucky. He’s due in less than an hour. There’s a pie in the oven, a candle waiting to be lit, and the feel of lace and silk on your skin under your dress. You trace your lips with a smile.

Your phone rings on the table, vibrating against the veneer. You pop to your feet with a stretch and turn off the tv. Netflix can wait. You swipe your phone open to answer your brother’s call.

“Hey Matt, wha—”

“Gemma! Gemma’s missing!” Matt cries.

“What?” You freeze. “What do you mean, missing?”

“I don’t know where she is! She was upstairs drawing, but her window’s open and she’s gone!” Matt’s voice is frantic. “Where is she?!”

“Oh god! I have no idea!” You clutch your hair, eyes wide and unseeing. “Matt, Matt, where’s Sarah? Does she have—”

“Hey!” Matt shouts. Something on the other end clatters, and Matt shouts. His voice fades. “Hey! Let her go!” Someone grunts, and Matt yells.

Silence falls.

The line goes dead.

Read Part 2 here!

If you would like to be tagged (or if you would not like to be) just ask! If you are in bold, I cannot tag you and will not tag you after this unless I hear from you!

Perm tag list: @kentuckybarnes @noshitstark @fortheloveofjbbarnes @sgtjbuccky @bitsandbobsandstuff @buckitybarnes @the-whitewolfie @the-canary @moonbeambucky @itsbuckysworld @c-a-v-a-l-r-y @buckybarneshairpullingkink @lexgirl79 @laurfangirl424 @alittle-crazy @prince-of-poptarts @piensa-bonito

Bucky tag list: @kenzieam @shreddedparchment @bambamwolf87

PREMONITIONS tag list: @thechaoticargonaut @sebstanwassup @australianhorrorstory @lovingllamareview @pleasureoftheguiltiestvariety @dontneedbiologytoadopt @angryteapot @snowflkedivergent @amoonagedaydreamer @moonstruckhargrove @vanillanestor @hey-liz-hey @justahopingwriter @whitewolfbabylon @wishcommandress @susmita121 @kat-lives @tarithenurse @seasidespecter @lyss3234 @wonderlandmind4 @pickylittlebitch @ellaenchanted91 @tellthemall-i-saidhi @let-finn-say-fuck @glitteringhippie @gryffindorwitch @spyderparker @booksteaandrainyday

[buckychristwrites]

Hi! Can I enter your writing challenge with prompt #6 your hands are freezing w/ Bucky?+ Congrats on 3.5k! ❤️

Of course!!!!!!! Thanks so much for entering!!!!!

Hayley’s Holiday Writing Challenge