#IBW: Hello Spring 2019

[supernaturallymarvellous]

Are You In?

Author: @supernaturallymarvellous

Characters: Deadpool x Reader (platonic)

Summary: An early morning call from Wade Wilson can never mean anything good, right?

Word Count: 667

Warnings: Wade being a jackass!  

A/N: So, like a year ago, @itsbuckysworld​ started the Hello Spring 31 Day Fiction Short Story Event being hosted by @itsbuckysworld.  I’ve been suffering from the worst case of writer’s block but it seems like it’s over so I’ve managed to pick this back up again!

The prompt for Day 7 is “Are You In?”.

Tag Lists are also open for this series of fics - Marvel fandom, characters to be decided as I get inspired by each prompt.  Actually tag lists are open for all my work so just send me an ask!

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It was too early to be awake.  As Y/N gingerly opened her eyes against the harsh early morning light pouring through her windows, her hand crept out from the warmth of the blankets and groped around on the bedside table to locate her cellphone.  The offending item had been vibrating for the last few minutes and while she desperately wanted to ignore it, that simply wasn’t an option available to her in her line of work.

Hauling herself up to lean against the headboard, she unlocked the phone to see several messages from quite possibly the most irritating person her in her contact list; one Wade “Deadpool” Wilson!  Cursing the day that she was ever stupid enough to give him her phone number, Y/N scrolled through the messages, finding herself growing increasingly amused as Wade’s tone changed from message to message.

Beside her, the bed dipped as Steve rolled over, lazily throwing his arm around her waist.  The desire to crawl back under the blankets and cuddle up to Steve was overwhelming, but previous experience had taught Y/N that her only option was to respond to Wade as soon as she could.  Sliding out of bed, she made her way to the kitchen and started to make coffee as she dialled the annoying assassin’s number.  For someone that was so desperate to hear from her, it took a surprisingly long time for Wade to actually answer the call.  

“Mrs America!  Do you have any idea how important my messages were?  I am trying to report a crime to one of the only people with the resources to deal with it, and you’ve probably been playing at baby making with the Captain!”

“Jesus Christ Wade.  It’s only just past seven in the morning.  Do you have to be your obnoxious self so goddamn early?!”

Hearing him to start to rant, Y/N switched to speaker mode and put the phone down on the bench before taking a long drink of black coffee, the only substance that stood a chance of getting her through this conversation and the rest of the day.  She offered up a silent prayer of thanks to Tony and his insistence on importing the best quality coffee that he could lay his hands on, and began to tune out Wade’s voice.  After a few minutes, there seemed to be nothing but silence emanating from the phone. Y/N dared to pick it up, hoping Wade had rung off.  She had no such luck and no sooner than she had put the device to her ear, the conversation started up again.  

“Hello?  Are you still there, Y/N?  My god……you call yourself an Avenger and you are doing absolutely nothing to avenge the awful tragedy that has taken place!!”

Realising that the only way to shut him up was to hear him out, Y/N asked Wade to explain exactly what had happened.  Again, he launched into an over-elaborate and complex tale.  Finally her patience snapped.

“Wade!  For the love of all things holy, just tell me what was stolen.  So far all you’ve done is complain and whine like a baby.”

“They……they took my katanas.  That stupid metal giant and the angriest emo child I’ve ever met took my swords and won’t give them back until I’ve agreed to join their stupid mutant group!  I don’t play well with others, Y/N!  Now can you please do something to help me?  Wake up the scary lady assassin and get both your asses down here.”

That was the final straw.  Y/N just shook her head and pressed the button to end the call.  There was no use in continuing the conversation any longer. She quickly drank down the remainder of her coffee before addressing the AI system that was ever present throughout the Tower.

“FRIDAY?  I’m going back to bed until a more reasonable hour.  Please screen my calls for the rest of the day.  Oh and could you send out a group message telling everyone to ignore that red-suited idiot!”

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Tagging: @itsbuckysworld​   @ibwhellospring​  @waywardimpalawriter    @zepppie   @81mysteriouslyme​  @helvonasche  @xxloki81xx    @redlipstickandplaid​

[beckzorz]

Desperate Measure (one-shot)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Words: 1880 Warnings: Nsfw, smut, 18+ Summary: On the run, cornered in a closet—how the hell is Bucky supposed to keep from getting caught? A/N: Day 8 of @itsbuckysworld’s hello spring writing challenge :3 Hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think xoxo

“Shit shit shit fuck shit!”

“Barnes, can you keep it clean for one minute? We’ve got Parker on the line here!”

“It’s okay, Mr. Stark, I’ve heard worse.”

Bucky growls and slaps his ear, silencing Tony’s reply. Do they really think he’s got time to listen to their awkward back-and-forth while he’s got a squad of goons up his ass?

The sidewalks are busy tonight. He turns a corner and almost bumps into a dopey couple, a clump of frat boys, a lonely woman tapping her foot as she holds her phone to her ear, all in rapid succession. He chances a glance back—no goons in sight. Not yet.

Bucky ducks into the closest open door, fumbling in his pocket for his wallet, his ID, as the bouncer waits with a bored stare.

“Here,” Bucky blurts.

“Great, have fun.”

Bucky ducks inside, assaulted by the uncomfortably loud blues band playing. A trombone, in a bar this size?

Yikes.

He squeezes his way towards the stage at the back of the bar, not daring to look back. The band is so loud, so close, that even he can’t hear if the people coming in are the ones after him. Loud voices clamoring over the band. Good music, really, but the pressure of hiding, of keeping all these civilians out of his trouble is pounding his skull even more than the music.

The song comes to a close, and in the beat before the applause kicks up, he can hear the voice of one of his pursuers.

Fuck.

He pushes his way through the dancers clustered by the stage, down the back hallway, past the scuffed bathroom doors, and bursts into a closet, pulling the door shut behind him and pressing his ear to the door.

A gasp behind him.

Bucky spins, pistol up, heart racing.

You throw your hands in the air, broom clattering to the ground.

A heavy drumbeat; the band is back on. The yellow bulb overhead sways to the music, sending shifting shadows across your face.

He lowers his gun as he takes you in. Wide, frightened eyes. A t-shirt clinging to every curve, not quite thick enough to hide the floral pattern of your bra. A towel peeking out from behind your hip, tucked into your back pocket.

An employee, then.

A heavy moment passes before you squint. Your mouth drops open, fear melting away.

“You’re—”

“There are people chasing me,” Bucky interrupts, voice low. He tucks his pistol back in the holster under his shirt. He doesn’t miss the way your eyes dart to the skin exposed at his hip, or the way your tongue darts out to wet your lips before his words sink in. You sober.

“You can stay here,” you tell him. You reach for the broom, but Bucky holds up a hand. He puts his ear back to the door, eyes drifting back to you as you step closer.

“Shit,” he mutters. He glances back at you, a million thoughts running through his head, but only one sticks. He has less than a minute before the door bangs open, or someone shoots through it. At him.

At you.

Stuck in a closet with a pretty girl, and he has less than a minute.

Fuck it.

Bucky shrugs off his jacket and shoves it behind the door. It’s the best disguise he can do on such short notice. He grabs your shoulders, stares into your eyes. Your pupils blow up, adrenaline or something else making your pulse pound against your neck.

“Do you trust me?” he whispers.

You curl your hands around his. Swallow. “Of course I do.”

Bucky crushes his mouth to yours, his hands flying from your shoulders to the zipper on your jeans as he walks you back against the wall. You gasp, but all your noises are muffled by his mouth, and for a blissful moment he’s too lost in the soft feel of your lips, the taste of your chapstick, the taste of you—

You push him back, panting.

He breaks away, his hand frozen halfway through unzipping your pants. He doesn’t want to think how he looks, desperate, starving, terrified; if they find him, they find you; how else can he hide locked in here, but hidden by you?

Maybe it’s the alcohol in the air. Maybe it’s your mouth, your lingerie, your soft lips.

Your eyes are nearly black. The light’s still swinging overhead, shadows still shifting on your inscrutable face.

Bucky swallows. “I—”

You clutch his face and pull his lips back to yours. This time, you don’t gasp. This time, you moan. Bucky grabs your thigh, hitches you up the wall; you worm a hand between you and fumble with his fly as he finishes with yours. You break the kiss only to trail your lips across his jaw, down his throat; his skin burns under your mouth, your hands on his shoulders. He can feel your nails digging into his flesh, feel them slide against the metal. Every nerve sings.

A few adjustments, and he’s got your panties pushed aside. You’re wet, but not wet enough; a few careful ministrations do the trick, and then he’s pushing inside you, reason be damned. Everything be damned for the sound of your pretty little whimper as your walls flutter around him. Bucky leans his forehead against the wall, one hand pressed into the wood, the other still hooked under your thigh, digging into that soft flesh as he starts a slow rhythm, half the speed of the music still thrumming heavy in the air. From between his legs, a tingling, pressure building, a need only you can sate.

You reach out and pull his mouth back to yours, this time teasing his mouth open. Tongue, teeth… Bucky doesn’t know exactly when he picks up the pace, but he knows exactly when he pulls your leg a little higher by your stilted moan.

“Bu—”

He silences you with a frantic kiss, and that’s when the door bursts open.

You bury Bucky’s face in your shoulder, hand twisted around his hair, disguising its length. You yell incoherently at the men frozen in the doorway. The door clicks shut, footsteps shuffle off, and Bucky lets out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding.

Neither of you move. Bucky’s still buried in you, and as the seconds tick by, he realizes just what he’s done. He stiffens, and your hands card gently through his hair.

“I trust you,” you murmur.

You turn your head and kiss the shell of his ear, and then you rock your hips just enough to make him groan. Still, he can’t quite move. What the hell was he thinking? Conning some unsuspecting bartender into sex—for what? To hide? He could’ve run, spared you the danger and himself the sudden guilt snaking through him.

You sigh and lower your hands to his shoulders, disrupting his thoughts.

“If you’re not going to finish this, then you might as well go. I have work to do.”

Bucky lifts his head at last. Maybe whatever strange impulse had overtaken him was just… in the air.

“Do you—d’you want me to finish this?” he breathes.

You hold his gaze with your dark eyes as you roll your hips again, tightening your arms and your walls around him.

“Yes. I want.”

It’s all the answer he needs. He eases out, back in, slow and languid as his eyes stay locked on yours. He’s tingling again, hyper-aware of how you feel wrapped around him. He snakes a hand under your shirt, bunching it up over your breasts so he can admire your pretty bra. Pretty, peonies, perfect. His thumb traces the lacy edge, circles until you’re gasping.

This time, he doesn’t stop your mouth when you moan his name. His eyes flutter shut at the wrecked sound of your voice, the stutter in it as you bite back another whimper. Pressure builds again, radiating out, drawing all his focus straight to where you’re clenched around him. He has to—he has to—

Bucky tightens his jaw and stills, ignoring every screaming muscle. You’re not there yet, and damn it all if he’s going to finish first. You mewl in discontent, moving yourself, but Bucky stills you.

“Let me.”

He slides his hand down, down, until he’s back at that same spot where his touch had done such wonders before. Almost too soon, you’re panting, fighting back moans and squeezing down on him harder than ever, hands tugging hard at his hair.

“‘Atta girl,” he murmurs.

“Just—please,” you whine. You’re glassy-eyed, lips parted and swollen from stolen kisses. Utterly divine.

All the pressure that Bucky’s been suppressing comes back full force. He pushes you higher on the wall and slams home, again and again until he’s sure the wall will break. But it holds, and so does he until you cry out, shuddering, head tipped back and hands flying to your breasts, with only Bucky’s hands on your thigh and between your legs holding you up.

The sight of you so wanton, so brazen, yellow light dancing along your red lips, your nails against your lacy bra, is enough. Bucky pulls out just as that throbbing need starts to bleed into release, muscles clenching, hands uncurling from you to grab himself. You drop to your knees, slapping his hand away, and close your mouth and hands around him.

Your lips, your touch end it. Bucky slams his hands against the wall, moaning through the delicious release, eyes cracked open just enough to catch you looking up at him, eyes watering and lips stretched wide, throat bobbing with rapid swallows. All he feels is your mouth as jolts of pleasure racket through him. All he sees are your eyes.

“God,” he rasps. He reaches down, strokes your face as best he can as he comes down from his high.

You draw back with a pop, licking your lips and looking with some consternation at the sticky mess on your fingers.

Bucky blinks the last of the stars in his vision away. He sinks down beside you, catching your face in his hands and pressing another kiss to those beautiful lips, salty now. You hum, content, pressing the back of your hand to his chest before drawing away with a nervous giggle.

“What?” he asks.

You shrug, hands still held awkwardly in front of you. Bucky tugs a handkerchief out of his pocket and offers it to you, but it only makes you laugh more. You take it, at least, and wipe your hands as best you can. Bucky takes the opportunity to tuck himself back into his pants.

“Thank you,” you tell him.

“Anytime,” he says.

You tilt your head, consider him. “Mean it?”

Bucky traces your lips. Your eyes slide closed as you lean into his touch.

“I could do with a name. Maybe even a phone number,” he muses, and you giggle again, winding your arms around his neck. The sound of your laughter fills him with delight, and he can’t help but kiss you again.

“I can probably divulge that information,” you say, but the smile flickering on your face is still a hint uncertain. “Do you really mean it?”

Bucky presses his forehead to yours, nodding.

“I mean it.”

[ciarawritesmarvel]

a worthwhile catfish - steve rogers x reader

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: Language maybe, I’m not gonna check tbh and dating app usage which in itself is a goof

A/N: Welcome to Day Eleven of Hello Spring by @ibwhellospring! Here’s a little something something for ya, with Steve and tinder and all around fluffy goodness. There is scope for a part two here so let me know if that’s something you’d read. Lots of love to youse all <3

Prompt: “Where should we meet?”

masterlist in my bio and tags in the reblog! please drop me an ask to be tagged in bucky, steve or all the hello spring pieces!

---

It was just a regular day, or so it seemed. You were sat in a little coffee shop, a cup of tea at your right hand and a delicious half eaten pastry at your left. Your laptop was perched in the middle of the table and you were getting on with some work that, strictly speaking, should have been sent off two days ago. You were rather lucky your boss was so understanding.

After an hour or so, you finished off the work and sent it off with a triumphant smile, clapping your laptop shut and then looking around as if someone else had done it when a few eyes glanced up from their plates. As you were finishing off your own drink, you haphazardly pulled your phone out of your pocket and your focus landed on the little app in the top corner.

It couldn’t hurt to have a little swipe.

You had a serious love-hate relationship with Tinder. Every few weeks you’d go through a cycle of a few days where you swiped with abandon, started conversations with a variety of different people and enjoying most of them. But invariably, it always ended the same, with you agreeing to a date with the one you liked the most and it going horribly. You’d swear off the app for a few weeks and then the cycle would start anew.

Clearly it had been a month since your last disaster date and it was time for you to find a new one.

You swiped left many, many times, mostly down to people’s bios rather than their looks, a couple of right swipes thrown in here and there but nothing spectacular.

After about five minutes, you swiped left again and found yourself on a page that brought the ghost of a smile to your lips involuntarily.

Steve Rogers. 100+.

The picture was of one Captain America, in a dark blue button up and jeans and taken in front of a gorgeous lake as he smiled.

It was clearly a catfish because there’s no way that the actual Steve Rogers would have tinder of all things, you expected he was probably more of a match.com kind of guy if anything. However, the bio was interesting and even concluded with a little America’s Sweetheart joke and you couldn’t help yourself. You swiped right.

Y/N: I know there’s an age difference here but I think we could make it work.

You decided you’d probably found the best you were going to find today and clicked your phone off, stuffing it into your back pocket and tidying up your table in preparation to leave.

You couldn’t wait to get home and put some fluffy socks on. Couldn’t. Wait.

---

It was just a regular day, or so it seemed. Steve was sat on his balcony at the tower, which he’d covered in plants and climbers just to ensure he had a little more privacy. The small window in the middle of these invasive plants offered him a beautiful view that he sketched from time to time. A chance to measure his progress, and mark his ever changing style.

Bucky was sat beside him, scrolling mindlessly through his phone and occasionally glancing over to Steve’s paper with a smug smile. Steve had asked to draw Bucky for a bit of a change and a bit of a challenge, but he’d politely declined and said that he didn’t need anyone staring at him intently as he went about his business. Steve certainly understood that.

“Wanna go for dinner later? Nat suggested this new place downtown, I don’t remember the name. Just the four of us, y’know, with Sam?”

Steve looked up from his work and smiled at his friend warmly.

“I’d like that Buck. 7pm?”

“Seven it is. I really want to eat a good-”

Bucky was cut off but a buzz from Steve’s phone, a familiar buzz that had both pairs of ears pricking up. Steve fumbled in his pocket to pull it out and check it.

Y/N Y/L/N. 30.

He read your message and Bucky saw his eyes light up and the corners of his mouth perk up just the slightest. His grin was huge.

“Found y’self a pretty dame, Stevie?” Bucky teased, drawling the words in a tone that had Steve rolling his eyes.

“It’s the first match I’ve had in ages. Don’t know why you even set this up for me.”

“It’s only ‘cause people think it’s not really you. You need to get yourself out there and Sam and I can’t trust you to do that yourself,” Bucky explained and Steve’s brow furrowed.

“Why would they think it wasn’t me? Who else would I be?”

“Think about it Rogers,” Bucky said, almost but not quite exasperated, “You’re the Captain America. That’s a pretty good way to get matches. I bet there’s hundreds of Caps on there.”

A quick and frantic search from Steve had him finding, much to his horror, the hundreds of Caps that Bucky had described, each one with different photos of him and different bios, mostly consisting of things he would never write under any circumstances. A few even made him choke back a gag. He looked back at his friend with a horrified gape.

“This is theft!”

“Not much you can do about it,” Bucky shrugged, “I’m surprised someone’s actually messaged you. She must either be really gullible or really desperate.”

Steve glowered at him.

“James,” he warned, “That’s an insult to her and to me.”

“Oh, you knew what I meant, just show me what she said.”

Y/N: I know there’s an age difference here but I think we could make it work.

Bucky stood up and crouched beside Steve to read the message and then turned his head to Steve, eyebrows raised with a smug grin adorning his face. Steve’s brow furrowed.

“What?”

“She doesn’t sound gullible,” he said, an amusement in his tone that Steve couldn’t place, “Or desperate.”

“...your point?”

‘Message her back, dipshit!”

Steve elbowed Bucky away from him and he stumbled back into his own chair with an over dramatic thud. He quickly started typing though, and Bucky’s grin only grew wider than before.

Steve: 70 years is nothing. The real problem here is that you’re way out of my league.

He briefly considered showing his response to Bucky before he sent it, but he was unwilling to have him change it and then it be sent without being fully his so he hit send and then held it out for Bucky to see. He nodded slowly, eyes alight with a shine of their own.

“You’ve got more game at 100 years old than you ever did at 20.”

A pause.

“Shut up Buck.”

---

Y/N: Morning sunshine. Any plans for the day?

Steve: I’ve got a super top secret ‘hush hush’ mission but other than that, not really. You?

Y/N: Ah right, of course. A mission. ;)

Steve: Still don’t believe I’m Steve Rogers, huh?

Y/N: Nope. But I’m talking to you anyway, so I think you should be flattered.

Steve: If you say so, sweetheart.

You looked up from your phone to make sure that none of your colleagues were watching you with a silly grin on your face, the slightly flustered look in your eye. Just one text with the word sweetheart in it from your current tinder crush ‘Steve’ had you an absolute mess, whether that be at work, at home or out with your friends. So far, you’d been caught grinning twice and full on laughing out loud once. That was a low point.

Y/N: I do say so. And I’ve got the day off, so I might have a date…

Y/N: ...with Netflix.

Steve: I’d be lying if I said you didn’t scare me for a minute there.

Y/N: And I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to scare you for a minute there.

Steve: If you’ve got the day off and my super top secret hush hush mission should be wrapped up early afternoon, why don’t we actually meet up today?

If it was possible, your heart completely stopped. Your eyes went wide as you read and re-read the message on your screen, making sure you hadn’t seen it wrong, hadn’t made up what was happening. You were worried. Three weeks of talking to this guy practically all day, every day and you were already slightly smitten. But at the same time, you were 95% sure you were being catfished. If you agreed to this, you probably weren’t agreeing to meet Captain America, but instead some random man who was pretending to be him, and doing a damn good job at it too.

But he was sweet. Kind. Funny. You felt there could be something there, if it was given time.

Steve: Didn’t mean to scare you off, don’t worry, it was just a suggestion.

“Did you just double text? God, Steve, I have told you before, quite a number of times, that you don’t double text.”

“She wasn’t replying Nat, what was I supposed to do.”

Nat fixed him with a glare.

“Oh I don’t know, have some fucking patience?”

He rolled his eyes and left the room, flipping her off behind his back as he did and she chuckled sardonically at his retreating form. Men.

Y/N: Didn’t scare me off. I was just double checking my calendar. Where should we meet?

Where should we meet? Where should we meet? Where should we meet?

The words played over and over in your mind as you read them back to yourself. You were really doing this. Going with your gut wasn’t exactly a common occurrence for you, but then again, your love life hadn’t been that great. Maybe it was time to change things up.

Steve: Wherever you want. Ladies choice.

Y/N: I know a place that does great burgers.

Steve practically punched the air, and considered himself very lucky that he’d gotten away from Nat when he did. He would’ve really been in for some teasing otherwise.

Steve: Sounds perfect. :)

You quickly sent over the details and agreed to meet there at seven, effectively cutting the conversation short before you lost your cool at work. 7pm. You’d be meeting your mystery man. You quickly fiddled with your phone, making a decision.

You needed to call in a favour.

—-

Now, at 6:55pm exactly you stepped out of your car and walked into the restaurant, trying to ignore the way you felt you teetered in your heels and the irrational urge to pull your skirt down. It was unnecessary, as you’d chosen a just-above-the-knee red skater skirt with a white off the shoulder top for the occasion. Not too much, not too little. At least you hoped so.

Walking up the stairs inside to the actual restaurant area, you mused that at least you felt vaguely comfortable. This was one of your go-to spots with friends and dates alike, with its range of burgers, beef, chicken and non-meat that seemed to satisfy even the fussiest of eaters. One waitress skimming past gave you a bright smile, one that you returned as best you could, and even that was enough to bolster your confidence a little more.

One waiter saw you hanging around the door and came up to you, the smile on his face just a little too manic for your liking. In fact, looking around, everyone seemed a little...giddy.

“Hi, can I help you?” he asked, almost excitedly and you smiled kindly, if a little worriedly.

“I’m here for a date, he booked the table so…” you paused, unsure whether to say this but going for it anyway, “It might be under the name Rogers?”

The man gasped. Audibly. Incredibly loudly, in fact, to the point where other people eating in the vicinity looked up at you and you felt yourself getting more and more anxious, dropping your gaze to the ground. The moment you heard the giggles and whispers around you, though, your head snapped up again and your brow furrowed.

What the everloving fuck was going on here?

The man seemed to collect himself with a stern cough and a deep breath.

“Right this way, madam,” he said, in a far more deliberate voice than previously and your mind was going a mile a minute. You followed him through the restaurant, taking a right and then a left and then one final right before…

You were lead outside onto the terrace that nobody was ever allowed to eat on, the one reserved for VIPs and ridiculously rich people and there, through the double doors, sat a man who quickly stood up as soon as he saw you and in doing so, knocked his chair over.

You bit your lip to stop your giggles as he mumbled apologies and leaned down to pick the chair up. Huge biceps, broad shoulders and an incredible a-

He turned around.

“Holy shit!”

The expression was an involuntary one and you clapped your hand over your mouth in utter shock as you stared at the Captain America, who was looking equal parts embarrassed and smug. Capt- Steve, rather, asked the waiter to give you a few minutes and though he looked reluctant, he hastily left the balcony area. Just the two of you.

“Sorry about the balcony,” Steve said after a few moments of silence that you couldn’t fill, “I tried to stop them but they insisted.”

He still looked kind of embarrassed by this and you decided then and there that whatever strange awe you were in had to stop, for his sake rather than yours. The way in which he spoke was so familiar due to his texts, anyway, and it gave you a much needed reminder that this was the man you were developing a crush on.

“Probably for the best,” you said, taking your hand away from your mouth and smoothing out your skirt just to give it something to do, “There’s a lot of whispering going on in there.”

Steve winced and you realised that probably wasn’t the right thing to say but before you could apologise and change your story, he made the few steps over to you and the words died in your throat.

“You look-” he trailed off as he looked you up and down and you actually shivered, “-even more beautiful in person.”

His words sounded genuine even if you were in a perpetual state of disbelief that this was really happening. You spoke before you thought.

“And you’re actually Captain freaking America so this is going well so far.”

He laughed then, a freeing and somewhat gorgeous sound that didn’t look quite right coming from the lips of a man you had seen in such a serious light so many times on the TV or in the news. You quite liked it.

He moved over to pull your chair or for you and finally you moved, thanking him softly as you let him tuck you into the table. Once he had taken his own seat on the other side, he spoke up.

“So,” he began, and already there was a teasing note in his voice that had you smiling, “You agreed to come out on a date with me even though you were that sure I wasn’t who I said I was.”

You bummed thoughtfully, beginning to see where he was going and your lips parted, smile morphing into a grin.

“I did.”

“Well, it begs the question: why?”

You sat further back in your chair and pondered how to answer it. But truly, the only way you could answer was honestly.

“Because I liked you, whoever you were. You were sweet and funny. We had a lot in common. I had to find out whether this could be…”

You trailed off, unsure of how to finish but by the look shining in Steve’s eyes, you decided that maybe you’d said the right thing after all.

“Nice,” he said, sincerely though, not just as a throwaway comment, “Although this won’t be anything if these burgers aren’t good.”

And just like that, you were out to dinner with Steve and not Captain America.

And, as it turns out, you liked Steve an awful lot more anyway.

[notimetoblog]

Us Against The World

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Category:  Fluff

Warnings: nothing except fluffy, fluffy, fluff :D

Day 7: “are you in?” from @ibwhellospring ‘s Spring Short Story Writing Event [hosted by @itsbuckysworld ]. 

A/N: Thanks for reading!!! :D

 It had begun with a loud knock on your bedroom door, the unmistakable sound of vibranium hitting wood. With a groan you had gotten up from where you laid on your bed, rubbing your nose after the loud knock had caused you to drop your phone right on your face. 

 “You almost broke my nose,” you had said, letting an annoyed sigh past your lips as Bucky simply pushed past you into your room. “Office hours end at 11, Barnes, and I don’t remember you making an appointment,” you had half-joked.

 That had been almost twenty minutes ago, and now you were on the edge of your bed, Bucky pacing nervously in front of you.

“It’ll mean going against Steve’s order,” he said, suddenly stopping his pacing.

  “Yes, I know,” you said quietly, knots tying in your stomach as what Bucky had just proposed replayed in your mind.

  “The team will most likely turn against us when they hear,” he said cautiously, kneeling in front of you.

  “Yes, you made that clear, Buck.”

  “Just gotta make sure you know what you’d be getting yourself into if you join me. We’ll be on our own.”

  “Would you do it alone if I said no?” you asked, peering into his lies to detect any lies. 

 “I feel like I have to, doll,” he confessed taking your hands in his. “Something tells me I should.”

  “Oh god, you alone would mean even more of a disaster,” you smiled.

  “A-are you in? Does that mean you’re in?!”

  “Of course, I’m in, Buck. Think I’d let you face this alone?! Do you even know who I am?”

  “Yes, I do,” he said, standing up from where he still knelt, pulling you up with him. “You’re my best girl, and I knew I could count on you.”

  “So, what’s your game plan?”

  Stepping back a few steps he began his pacing again. Bucky always thought better when he was in movement, or so he said.

  “The stakes are high on this mission, “he said in a low serious tone. “We gotta make sure everything is perfectly planned so that it can be perfectly executed.  No room for errors or else things will fall apart before they even start.”

   “The cover of the night is our best friend.”

  “Yes, exactly. I say we wait just a couple more hours… say 2 am, and this mission is a go. “

‘You got it Sarge,” you mocked saluted.

  “Steve is most likely going to come after us when he finds out, so we have to prepared for that. Chances are he gets Sam involved to hunt us down.”

  “I’m not scared of either of them,” you said, reaching out for his hand.  “Or the rest of the team. I think this is noble cause, even if we’re going against direct orders.”

 So with a plan in mind you waited, and waited, and waited some more. 

 Waited long enough that you were both confident you wouldn’t be discovered, long enough to put on a brave face as you went against everything the team stood for, long enough so that you were both confident the team was asleep.

  In the dead of night, you left your room, Bucky a few steps ahead, decades of training quickly becoming of use as he peeked around corners and moved in complete and total silence.

  “I see some light,” he whispered, peeking towards the kitchen. “Everybody is supposed to be asleep.”

 “Hold on,” you said, tapping away at the stark pad you had brought along with you. Accessing the video footage of the many security cameras on the compound, you noticed someone had left the microwave open, casting a soft glow. 

 “Just the microwave,” you whispered and continued following Bucky. 

 “Wait,” he said, pushing you back against the wall. In the darkness you could still sense the intensity of his gaze. “Are you absolutely sure about this, doll? You can back out now, I won’t ask any questions and if I’m caught, I won’t mention I told you.  I won’t implicate you in this mess.”

  “I’m positive,” you said, lacing your voice with as much determination as possible. “100%”

  “I love you,” he whispered, resting his forehead on yours. “Lets do this.”

 Slowly, he turned the corner, having already memorized the most effective pathway to your destination. 

 In a few short strides, you stood in front of the goal.

  The refrigerator.

  “I saw Steve stash it all the way in the back. Nat put stashed some things too. Seems they’re in cahoots.”

  “Those jerks,” you whispered harshly. “Thought they could get away with this.”

  Opening the fridge as quietly as possible, Bucky reached his arm into it, eyes widening as he rummaged through the top shelf.

  “What is it?”

  “A secret door,” he said.

  “A what?!?”

 “A secret door,” he said again, tongue poking out as he concentrated on getting it loose. “Dear god.”

  “What is it?” you tried to peek over his large frame.

  “They all have something stashed in here,” he said in disbelief. “All of them with little name labels on their containers.”

“You’re kidding,” you said, finally managing to get him to move. 

 And just as he had said, there was an opening in the back of the fridge, packed with containers of food each with the name of an Avenger. All of them knew about this secret stash. All of them except you and Bucky.

 “To hell with Steve’s order to respect the food in the fridge,” you said already picking out what container you would take. 

 “To hell with all of them, doll,” Bucky said. “Grab all of them, we’re taking our loot and not looking back.”

 “All of them?” you asked for confirmation. 

 “All of them.”

 And just like that, you both emptied the secret stash of food, quickly making your way out of the compound and to the apartment Bucky kept in the city. 

 The next morning, still full from the late dinner/ early breakfast, you both woke up to a string of missed calls and yet-to-read messages. 

 Steve: how long? How long have you known?

Nat: You idiots better get back here with what you took.

Sam: I know you did not just break the number 1 rule of the compound I know you did not mess with my food!

Steve: you disobeyed direct orders, both of you did.

Tony: You could’ve just asked.. both looked like idiots tiptoeing through the halls AT 2 AM.

Sam: THE NUMBER 1 RULE…DON’T MESS WITH THE FOOD!!!!!

Steve: we’ll find you and the consequences won’t be pretty 

  It was you and Buck against the world. You were ready.

[daenyara]

who run the world? | daensa

pairing: Daenerys Targaryen x Sansa Stark

words: 1.1k

prompt: "what if” (day #28 of @ibwhellospring​ )

synopsis: that conversation in 8x02 but a LOT gayer.

a/n: lowkey wrote this for @sansaisalesbian <3

Sansa studies the Queen’s expression, trying to figure out what’s in her thoughts. Is she an enemy or is she going to fight alongside them, like Jon desperately wants to believe?

‘The Mother of Dragons’, they call her. For some reason, Sansa finds that woman a lot more terrifying than her fire-breathing beasts. 

Maybe that’s why her gaze can’t help but travel along that shiny moonlit hair, wondering what it would smell like, how soft it would feel against her fingertips. Or maybe all that has nothing to do with fear, and a witch has found her way to the steel heart of the Lady of Winterfell, singing sweet words into her head and enchanting her with tender fire in her veins. Either way, Daenerys Targaryen is both the woman she despises and the one she hates to love.

“I should’ve thanked you the moment you arrived. That was a mistake,” she says in a measured tone, smiling politely.

It’s all she ever does, these days. Smile, and court and nod, just like she was thought. Just like she did in King’s Landing while she was a caged bird for everyone else to torment. She hates it. It makes her feel small and weak, and she swore to herself she’d never been that way again, especially not in her home. She’s done with fearing kings and queens. A wolf doesn’t need a crown to bite. It has fangs and claws that will tear the flesh to shreds. And when he howls in the cold dark night, everyone hears everyone trembles.

 But Daenerys doesn’t tremble. She sees the fierceness in Sansa’s eyes, she sees the winter winds bowing to this young maid with hair like burning coals, and she does not fear nor roar back. Instead, she’s in awe, she feels drawn to her.

“Lady Sansa.” Daenerys lets the name linger on her tongue, tasting the sweetness of it. “You’ve been nothing but a most gracious host to me and my people. And yet I can’t help but feel we’re at odds with one another. Why is that?”

Sansa’s lips are pressed together, and she does not answer at first. Daenerys gives her a sad smile.

“We don’t just have a common enemy, my lady. I came all the way here because I trust your brother, but I feel like you, most of all people, can understand me.”

“And why is that?” asks Sansa sharply, her brows furrowed in curious confusion.

Daenerys smirks. “We’ve both known what it means to lead people who aren’t inclined to accept a woman’s rule. And we’ve both done a damn good job of it, from what I can tell.”

This time, Sansa chuckles. After a moment, she turns serious once again and speaks. “You say the Iron Throne is your only goal. You say you want to take it back from the people who destroyed your family.”

Daenerys simply nods, waiting for her to continue.

“And what happens afterwards? We defeat the dead, we destroy Cersei, you sit on that throne... What happens then?”

There’s a flash of irritation in Daenerys’ eyes, as she tries to keep her tone light. “Forgive me, my lady, I do not quite understand.” Her voice is sweet as poison and just as deadly. “I’m under the impression that you may wish for someone else to rule over Westeros. Do you see me unfit to sit on the Iron Throne, Lady Sansa?”

Sansa’s laughter echoes through the room, bitter.

“I have no wish to take the throne from you, your Grace,” she announces in a cold voice. “In fact, you may be the best chance for this world to become a better place.”

Daenerys cocks an eyebrow. “I did not realize you thought so highly of me, my lady.”

A subtle flush appears on Sansa’s ivory cheeks, but she quickly regains her stoic composure. “We don’t know each other very well, but I’ve heard things. You’re smart enough to make alliances yet weary enough not to trust people blindly. You’re kind and compassionate to those who deserve mercy but ruthless when circumstances require it.” Sansa locks her eyes with Daenerys. Emerald green into a deep purple. “You’ll make a good queen. Better than Cersei, anyway.”

Silent, Daenerys ponders upon her words. After a long moment, she leans in, their faces dangerously close. “Then what is it that worries you, Sansa?”

Thrown off by the sudden intimacy, Sansa hesitates. Then she speaks, her voice firm despite the quivering of her heart, scorching power burning in her gaze. “What about the North? It was taken from us and we took it back. And we said we’d never bow to anyone else again. What about the North?”

Daenerys thinks about the question. She takes Sansa’s hand in hers, squeezing gently. “Have you ever consider, my lady,” she begins to ask with a smirk, and Sansa feels her cheeks growing hotter at the glint in the queen’s eyes, “that we could rule together?” Daenerys chuckles as she observes Sansa’s speechless reaction. “You must have thought about it... I certainly have.”

Sansa swallows hard. “That’s – that’s not what I was– ” she mutters, unable to finish the sentence. Her mind is hazy, all her thoughts focused on how close their lips are.

“The time of men may be coming to an end, Sansa, but our has yet to begin.” Daenerys’ voice is silky, dark and tempting as a siren song. Her next words, however, sound heartfelt and sincere. “I don’t want to be at odds with you, my lady. I want you to trust me, as I trust you. And I want you with me.”

Sansa breathes in, almost overwhelmed by Daenerys’ sole presence. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying, I had agreed to help in the fight against the dead before your brother bent the knee. Taking the North from you was never my intention... not lately, anyway.” Daenerys gives Sansa a crooked smile, almost apologetic. “I had thought about splitting the Kingdoms between me and Jon, leaving him to rule the North as I did so in the South. And then I met you.”

Sansa shots her a confused glance but doesn’t speak, letting her finish.

“Once this is all over, if we even survive... I can’t think of no one better than you, my lady.” Daenerys bites down her lip, her eyes never leaving Sansa’s.

“Better than me at what, exactly?” asks Sansa, not daring to hope. 

Yet the words her heart was praying to hear are spoken, loud and clear, by the sharp tongue and velvet lips of Daenerys Targaryen.

“To be my Queen, lady Sansa. Will you stay at my side as we rule the world?”

[itsbuckysworld]

Welcome to Hello Spring!

A 31-Day, daily fiction short story event, where for every day in May, should you decide to join in, we’ll be writing a short piece based on the day’s prompt. This is both a sharing event and a chance to work out those writing muscles! 

Find my masterlist of this event here

Without further ado, a foreword:

To keep in mind: (these are kinda rules but not really cause it’s not that deep and formal, this is for fun!)

Don’t have to follow me to participate. Please reblog to help me spread the word.

I’ll be starting May 1st (lord knows i’ll try, no promises!) but you 100% don’t have to if you can’t or don’t want to. If you start these today, mid May or June that’s a-ok. 

The idea is to do 31 continuous days, but if you have to skip one that’s totally fine, just continue from where you left off when/if you return to writing them. 

Short Stories = 450 words. You can always write more if you want, I’m not going to stop your inspiration! 450 words is about 6 paragraphs! You can do it! I believe in you!

If you write more, please use the Read More feature. Reach out to me if you don’t know how and I’ll explain it! This makes it kinder to people’s dashboards. 

You can link all the prompts to each other, meaning one can be a part one to any other following day. In fact one could be part three to something you already have going on. Go wild!

Open to every fandom, just don’t do real people (like the IRL actors that play fictional parts) it can also be non-character specific (example a journal entry that doesn’t tell us who wrote it). ships allowed, no incest no pedophilia tho!

You can write in any format you want: AU’s are 100% welcomed, Headcanon lists, TFLN style, Journal Entry style with or without specifying character (just don’t make personal entries like about yourself IRL)

please tag the sideblog for this event (@ibwhellospring) in your pieces! and include #IBW: Hello Spring 2019 in the first five tags. You can also help yourself and myself keep track of which day you’re doing by specifying so, somewhere in the post and by tagging it with #ibwhellospringdayX with the number of the day’s prompt. 

This is zero commitment! I'll try to reblog all the ones i spot on a sideblog for this event to keep this one more marvel centered (@ibwhellospring) just have fun and practice your writing!

PROMPT LIST UNDER THE CUT!

Reencounter after 3 years

Stroll

Goodbye letters

“____ is lost! Help me find it/them”

Starry night

Photograph

“are you in?

hiding in the closet, he/she found…

First kiss/ Last kiss

Allergies

“Where should we meet?”

Childhood memories

Bloom

When they met again

“That’s it! We’re going for ice cream”

Last December

Good luck/ Bad luck

Sunrise

Betrayal

Favourite pie

End of fall

Lost and found box

“Isn’t this dangerous?”

Library

“Who are you?”

A night in (insert country)

White party

What if

Subway

Contest

Flashbacks

HAVE FUN SEE U IN MAY! OR IF YOU WANNA START RIGHT AWAY GO AHEAD! OH AND SHIPS ARE ALLOWED! NO INCEST AND NO PEDOPHILIA!

[captainamericasbeard]

Ice Cream

Pairing: Bucky x Reader Word Count: 800 Category: Fluff Warnings: we beat around the PTSD bush in this one. 

A/N: This is my entry for Day 15 of @ibwhellospring ‘s 31 day short story writing challenge. Today’s prompt was “That’s it! We’re going for ice cream”. I’ll put links for each day on my masterlist if you want to catch up.

Masterlist

It was past midnight when you finally wandered up from your office in Avengers Tower to the common room and flopped down on the only available bit of couch. The movie was almost over, Clint was asleep with his arms crossed and his mouth open. Pepper had dragged Tony to bed some time ago and Sam was out on a date. It was just Steve, Nat, and Bucky left watching the second installment of The Lord of the Rings. The trilogy had been on Steve’s Need To Watch list.

Bucky seemed antsy and his face clearly said he wasn’t enjoying himself. His leg was jiggling and his arms were fully crossed. He was watching the screen with pursed lips and a furrowed brow.

“You ok, Buck?” You ask quietly, trying to avoid drawing the other’s attention. He looked at you with a haunted expression. You look at the screen to see the Battle of Helm’s Deep in full swing, men and elves dying in droves. It's a war movie and understanding hits you like an anvil.

“That’s it, we're going for ice cream,” you whisper. Bucky lifts his eyebrows questioningly.

“Where are we gonna get ice cream at 12:30 at night?” Bucky whispers back.

“It’s New York City. Come on.” You stand up and extend your hand which, after a moment’s questioning look, he accepts. You haul him off the couch and head off toward the elevator, leaving Nat and Steve to the movie. They exchange a glance and a small smile once your backs are turned.

The front door spills you out into a humid summer night. It’s relatively quiet, with a few cabs driving around searching for a fare. One slows in front of you but Bucky waves him off as you set off down the sidewalk. You head in the direction of the corner store in silence.

“So,” you start tentatively, “you didn’t like the movie.”

“No.” Bucky’s response is short and gruff and you’re happy for him to leave it at that. You walk on in silence for a while longer but you can feel his tension building. You chance a glance at his face to find the same haunted look from before. You reach out and touch his arm, bringing you both to a stop.

“Buck,” you say softly. He glares at you but you meet his gaze. You brave his scowl for his sake. You’re here for him, no matter what he has to say.

“It was too… familiar,” he finally says. And his brooding glare turns into something much more broken. “It was really like that, ya know. The guy next to you was there one minute and then…”

You swallow thickly. You’ve never heard Bucky talk about the war. It was hard for him to remember anything before hydra and what he did remember wasn’t pleasant.

“Steve was the golden boy, ya know, the symbol. Me, I did the dirty work. I was on the edges taking the shot no one else could take. It’s just,“ he pauses to gather himself, “it’s hard to see it like that. Offered up for entertainment.”

You nod your head in understanding and you both start walking again.

“I don’t know what to say Bucky. I’m really sorry you went through that.” He looks at you again and this time his eyes are soft.

“It’s ok darlin’. Don’t worry about me,” Bucky says with a sad smile.

“But I do, Bucky. I do worry about you.” You’re in front of the corner store now but Bucky stops and looks at you with an expression you can’t read. You watch each other for a moment while your stomach squirms under his gaze.

“Come on, Buck. Ice cream, remember?” You take his hand briefly and lead him into the shop, to the little, blue cooler with the sliding doors plastered with pictures of different frozen treats.

“What’s it going to be? Coronetto or Choco Taco?” You ask turning to look at Bucky. You’ve finally pulled a smile from the corners of his lips and your stomach swoops at the sight.

“Coronetto. Always,” Bucky replies, sliding the door open.

“Me too.” You pay for the treats and the two of you begin your stroll back to the tower. Your hand brushes up against Bucky’s a couple of times. After the third time you realize it’s deliberate when Bucky takes your hand and weaves his fingers into yours. You look down at your hands and then up at Bucky who’s looking at you with a timid hope in his eyes. You smile at him and give his hand a firm squeeze in reassurance. You walk back to the tower like that, hand in hand, ice cream dripping down your fingers.

[countess-rosegold-blog]

Best for My Girl

Characters: Scott Lang x Reader

Warning/s: Fluff, language

Word Count: 1,795

Note/s: This challenge just got real! I’ve missed two days now, but that’s no excuse to stop. To the anon who requested more Scott Lang smut, I wanted to write that so bad for this prompt, but as this went on it didn’t feel right. Still, I’ll be writing that in the future for sure. 

If you happen to read this and/or leave some feedback, thank you! Enjoy. 

Prompt: Day 5: Starry night from @ibwhellospring ‘s Spring Short Story Writing Event

You sit in silence as you watch the city lights warp into dark silhouette of trees outside your passenger window. The windows of the 1963 Chevy pickup are rolled down, a slight chill from the night breeze soothing your face and brushing your hair aside.   

You have no idea where you’re headed, or where Scott got this old truck or why he’s in such a mood, but you don’t miss the way he’s purposely trying to ignore you.

It’s a moonless night and it’s dark out, the last sign of life was from opposing traffic you passed twenty minutes ago. You’ve been in the road for almost forty.

Your stubbornness to match his cold shoulder wears thin.

“Babe, please. Can you just tell me why you’re mad? Or at least where we’re going?” Or why and where in the world would you get this vehicle for a late night drive? You’re dying to know the answer to the last one but it may irk him more, so you keep it to yourself.

His grip tightens around the steering wheel and he shifts slightly in the driver’s seat. “I’m not mad, Y/N.”

You sigh in frustration and run a hand down your face. Right. Not mad. But also not baby, not sweetheart--just Y/N. You bite back a remark. You’ve been wracking your brain for whatever led to this bizarre situation. You come up empty.

Today was like any other and it could easily blur into the thousand other days of your life. You started the day with a run, attended a briefing with Hill at 9 a.m., then worked on your station the rest of the day. Average day. Mundane.

Your thoughts are interrupted when you notice Scott take a right turn toward a steep hill. It’s pitch black save for the headlights but the darkness doesn’t last long.

You emerge in what appears to be the summit of the hill--a clearing--and it offers a striking view of the city from a distance. Yellow and red spots twinkle in the night.

You cast a surprised glance towards Scott who slows the truck down to a stop, but not before he makes a 180 turn--robbing you of the view. With the truck facing the dark path you came from, he turns off the engine and leans back in his seat.

This place is… unexpected. Beautiful. But he still seems mad.

“Scott?” You whisper as dread begins to creep in your chest. Oh, God. Is he gonna break up with me or something? The thought barrels into you like a freight train and you gasp out loud despite yourself. Tears blur your vision.

He finally looks at you, astounded. “Wha--? Sweetheart, why are you crying?”

You barely register what he says because your thoughts bombard your mind. I can be quite emotional, you think. Maybe that’s why he needed to get me away from the Compound. To avoid eyes and ears when I break down.

Suddenly your top feels constricting, the air in the vehicle stuffy. You take time taking off the safety belt but when you’re free of it, you open your door and climb out. Somehow you underestimate the drop to the ground and pain greets your ankle when you land.

“Oh for fuck’s sake!” You hiss into the night. This makes you more vulnerable and you sob as you drag yourself towards the back of the truck. You hear Scott’s door open and close and he’s right beside you.

He wraps his arms around your waist and helps you upright. The warmth of his body does not ease the dread.

“Sweetheart, what…?” He struggles to complete the sentence, confusion laced in his tone.

You hold up a hand to stop him as you gather yourself. “So it’s sweetheart again,” you mutter under your breath.

You lean on the side of the truck and face him.

“You didn’t have to bring me all the way here to--” You wince. You can’t even bring yourself to say it.

You take a deep breath and try again. “The truck, the view? It’s all beautiful, Scott. But I’d rather have you done it at the Compound than go through all this trouble just to soften the blow.”

He looks at you, brows furrowed and dumbfounded.

You continue, “What I’m saying is, I think I know now why you brought me here.”

Then the sobbing continues.

An exasperated sigh escapes him and he tilts his head towards the sky before looking back to you. “Okay, baby. Just breathe.” He caresses your arm and touches your cheek. “But with that speech and all the tears, I don’t think you have any idea why I brought you here.”

His hands settle in your waist again and he brings you closer to him. You’re pressed together, your hurt foot positioned awkwardly away from you. He kisses your forehead and smells your hair, then tilts up your chin so you’re face to face.

“You’re not breaking up with me?” You croak.

“That’s what you thought?” Scott asks in disbelief. “Oh, baby. You may be the brains of the Weapons and Tactics Division, but you’re my idiot.”

You glare at him through remnant tears and he chuckles.

“I’m not breaking up with you, silly. To be honest--and don’t freak out--I can’t imagine a future where I break up with you.”

You feel a burning in your cheeks. “Really?”

Amid the dark, his signature goofy grin lights up his face. “Really.”

It’s a first-time feeling and it washes over you. I can’t imagine a future where I break up with you. The feeling licks your skin, like warm milk trailing your body. Your breath hitches and you close the distance, sealing his lips with yours.

He’s surprised for a second before he melts into you, mouth exploring your own. He grips your lower back and softly pins you on the side of the truck. Your hands find his neck and kiss him deeper.

He suddenly breaks away, breathless. “Okay, Y/N sweetheart,” he holds up a finger and moves to open the backseat of the truck. The upper half of his body disappears into the vehicle as he reaches for something. After what seems to be a little bit of struggling, he emerges with a huge transparent zipper bag with something inside and what appears to be a black vacuum insulated tumbler.

Scott looks giddy as he showcases the things in his hands. “It was pretty last minute but I came prepared.”

You inspect the thing in the bag. “Mr. Lang, is that a comforter?”

He grins mischievously. “That is correct.”

You bite your lips to suppress a smile. “And what’s in the tumbler, if I may ask?”

“A little yorsh for m’lady.” He dramatically bows.

You can’t help but laugh.

He hands you the tumbler as he sets the bag down and unzip it. He wiggles the fluffy comforter out and the waft of fresh linen fills the air. He hugs the rolled sheet and hurls it inside the back of the truck.

“Wait here,” he instructs as he rounds the vehicle to open the back of the pickup. He climbs and there’s some shuffling before he jumps back to you.

“How’s your foot?”

“Better now.”

“Yeah? I think we should still take precautions,” he stalks toward you then before you could register what he’s doing, you’re already off the ground, tucked in his arms.

“Hey!” You giggle as he settles you in the comforter he laid out. He settles beside you, propping his body with one arm. The back of the truck gives a breathtaking view of the city below.

It’s a standstill moment; there are many things you want to say but you form no words at all. You stare at the view but also very aware of Scott beside you. You bask in the familiar scent of baby powder and watermelon, breathing him in.

“I know this night may have been a weird one for you,” he says. He’s suddenly looking shy as you look up at him.

You grin. “Maybe a little bit.”

He chuckles. Then he clears his throat. “I’ve been meaning to bring you here for quite sometime now.”

You smile up at him but wait for him to go on.

“I know we’re still kind of new; we’ve only been together months,” he says and take your hands, clutching it in his chest. “But everytime I look at you, I see tomorrow and the days to come and I know you’ll still have my heart then.”

And in that moment you know what he’s going to say, why go through all this plan, because it’s also how you feel.

“I--” overwhelmed, you try to speak but stop yourself. This is his.

He kisses your hand.

“I love you, Y/N. I’m deeply in love with you.” He proclaims. “I’ve been for a while now, but every other instance I wanted to say it didn’t feel right.”

Tears form at the corners of your eyes. “This moment couldn’t be more perfect.”

You kiss him then and it’s a kiss like never before. You revel in it, Scott tasting like salt and honey. The slight stubble in his jaw caresses your face.

When you take a pause and your faces inches apart, you look up the night sky full of stars. “You remembered,” you whisper to him.

“Profess your love under the stars and you’ll have my heart forever,” he quotes. It’s been a joke, a long time ago, a time when you and Scott weren’t even together.

Since the Weapons Regulation and Supervision Initiative, Stark and Fury tasked you with overseeing the management of weapons and any other paraphernalia needed for assignments. Gone were the days when agents and the Avengers get to equip themselves with whatever weapon they wanted. Leveling of threat assessment and collateral damage projections are considered before deployment. The enhanced weren’t affected much, but the humans took issue. And so the badgering and bargaining began. The more persistent ones tried to woo you into giving more of what was allowed to them. It’s been a running joke for some of the guys to declare words of love just to get what they want, and you’d retort with the quote.

“Well it is a starry night. I know I had to give the best for my girl.” He winks and you chuckle.

You look at him, eyes roaming over his features. You get it then--what he said about looking at you and seeing what lies ahead.

“I love you too, Scott Lang. I’m deeply in love with you,” you mirror his words.

He’s shocked and he’s teary-eyed and he smiles the biggest smile, and you kiss again under the million twinkling lights.

[supernaturallymarvellous]

Starry Night

Author: @supernaturallymarvellous

Characters: Tony Stark x Reader (mentioned: Steve Rogers)

Word Count: 495

Warnings: None

A/N: I’m taking part in the Hello Spring 31 Day Fiction Short Story Event being hosted by @itsbuckysworld.  The prompt for Day 5 is “Starry Night”.

Tag Lists are also open for this series of fics - Marvel fandom, characters to be decided as I get inspired by each prompt. 

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The flash from the cameras of the gathered press was incessant, had been ever since your feet had hit the pavement when you stepped out from the limo and took Tony’s arm.  Another evening, another glamorous event to attend alongside billionaire philanthropist Tony Stark.  Heaven only knew why people still obsessed over getting a photograph of the two of you; you’d been together for over five years so his playboy image had long been shed.

You manoeuvred your way up the steps of the Museum of Modern Art, stopping occasionally to smile as the paparazzi captured yet another picture of you and your husband dressed to the nines.  You were here because Stark Industries was sponsoring an exhibition for artists who had all drawn inspiration for their work from Tony’s arc reactor design.  Tony was giddy with excitement, so happy to have a chance to focus on something as joyful as art for even just a few hours out of his usually hectic schedule.  

As the evening continued and Tony found himself at the centre of attention, you were more than happy to step away from the limelight and seek out some of the Museum’s other exhibits.  You spent as long as you could walking around the near deserted building, popping into various rooms to get a private look at the amazing collections of art that the staff had carefully curated over the years.  There was however one painting in particular that you wanted to see, your favourite work by your favourite artist – “Starry Night” by Vincent van Gogh.  Knowing that it was housed in the Collections Gallery on the fifth floor, you jumped in the elevator and made your way to spend some time with the artwork that had captured your heart so many years previously.

And that was where Tony found you almost an hour later, sitting on a bench in front of the piece, champagne glass long drained of its contents.  

“Well, fancy meeting you here!  I missed you, honey.”

“I’m sorry Tony.  I just couldn’t resist coming up here while it was so quiet.  This place….well the gallery is usually heaving, so full of people that you can barely get close enough to see the incredible brushstrokes and the amazing swirls!  I just love it.”

Tony chuckled.  He knew exactly how much you loved Starry Night.; it was the lock screen for every electronic device you owned and you even had a huge print of it hanging in your office.  And as much as he hated to pull you away from something that made you so happy, he knew that he could at least try and put a smile on your face as he did so. Standing up, he took one of your hands in his and pulled you to your feet.  Walking towards the gallery exit, he whispered into your ear:

“You’ve seen the remake of The Thomas Crowne Affair, right?  You think we could pull off an art heist?” 

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Tagging:  @ibwhellospring  @waywardimpalawriter    @zepppie     @helvonasche  @xxloki81xx    @redlipstickandplaid   @iamskyefox

[beckzorz]

Crash (one-shot)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Words: 1650 Summary: Kree attack. Ruined vehicle. Broken comms. You’re lost, and then, you’re found. A/N: Day 11 of @itsbuckysworld’s hello spring writing challenge. Prompt for today was “Where should we meet?” // Hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think xoxo

“Hello? Is anyone there?”

Silence on the comms.

“Fuck,” you say.

The canyon is silent. Hazy smoke clouds the air. A breeze tickles your skin, and the gash on your thigh.

You’re standing, at least. It was an impressive fall, but you’re still standing. What was it that Bucky had said, last month in training when you’d sprained your ankle?

“Takes more’n that to keep you down.”

Well, he was right. Right now, you’re sporting a cut on your leg, a dislocated shoulder, a bump on your head. And disabled comms, by the sound of it. Not to mention a downed hover bike, smoking and crackling some fifty feet back.

You can’t remember the last time you made such a mess. Maybe that time in second grade, where your teacher had thrown a hissy fit at the crayon drawings you’d made halfway up the walls. Or the time you blew up a container of soup in the microwave, and also the microwave.

A chuckle bubbles out of you. Yeah, that was funny. Even if Happy had thrown a fit.

You glance back at your bike, no more than a pile of scrap now. This… isn’t funny. The real fight had been miles away, but a lone Kree scrapper had driven you away from your team until you’d crash-landed in the canyon. You’d managed to shoot the Kree down before you fell, but that’s a small consolation considering the fact that you’re alone, virtually unarmed—the pistols strapped to your body are no match for alien tech, not like the cannons on your bike. Your ruined bike. And from how things looked when you’d last been in the fight, there was no saying whether the first person to find you would be SHIELD or Kree.

Enough dawdling.

You start walking away from your bike with a grimace. If it’s Kree who come, they’ll go to the crash site first. No point in lingering in the open.

Your arm is at an awkward angle, but you know better than to try and reset your shoulder before you make it to safety. That always sends you into a daze. Of course, who knows what kind of safety you’ll find at the bottom of a gorge.

Sand crunches under your feet as you trail along the canyon wall, looking for a place to hide. Every so often, you try to reach the team again, but no luck. Probably busted in the crash.

Eventually, when the shadow of the canyon’s edge is higher up the wall, you find a crack in the rock tall enough for you to hide in but nearly invisible from eye level. Lying down feels like a bad idea, but you’re running out of steam. Better to hide and shoot their legs than be surrounded in the open.

Getting down hurts like a bitch, but by the time you slide under the rock and fix your shoulder you’re relieved more than anything else. Kree tech is advanced enough that they would’ve found you by now.

If the fight had ended. If the Kree even cared to look, given your crashed bike.

Well, hopefully someone would come look for you. Two ration bars aren’t going to last very long.

—

It gets cold fast.

The shadows are so long the whole world is black. If you wiggle out of your hole, you can look up at the stars. There’s a million more here than you can see in upstate New York.

It’d be beautiful, if it didn’t mean you were stranded in the middle of nowhere.

The cut on your leg is itchy. There’s not much you can do about it, not with your first aid kit burnt up with the rest of your bike miles away. Your mouth is itching too, but that’s from dehydration. It’s not hot, never really was, but god, it’s dry.

Dry, and lonely. You switch on your comm again, even though all you can hear is a whisper of static.

“Well,” you murmur. “Might as well talk to myself.” You prop your chin on your arm and gaze out across the canyon floor, listening to the skittering of creatures coming to life in the night.

“I think I prefer when they don’t look like us,” you continue. “It's still weird even when they look like fantasy elves. Or whatever. Cause in all those movies they’re played by human actors.” You chuckle. “I suppose a Kree could get a sweet gig for SyFy or whoever. No prosthetics required.”

Bucky would’ve laughed at that. He always at least grins at your little quips. But there’s no reply, laughter or otherwise. You sigh.

“It’s okay, Bucky, I can imagine you laughed. Not quite as nice as the real thing, though.”

You roll over onto your back and slip out from your hiding spot to gaze up at the sky.

“I bet you’ve seen starrier skies than this,” you say. “I wonder where.”

A stream of sand falls a few feet to your left. From above, the scrape of a boot against the canyon wall.

You swear under your breath and slide as silently as you can back into the crevice and twist onto your stomach. Out comes your gun. You feel rather than hear the click as you turn the safety off. A pebble bounces on the sand. Another scrape on the wall, another stream of sand, and then there’s a thud as someone drops the last few feet to the floor. Boots crunch closer, closer.

SHIELD, or Kree? Friend, or foe?

Safety, or death?

You clench your teeth against nervous shudders. This is the tightest spot you’ve ever been in, and not just literally.

“Starriest skies I ever saw were in the arctic circle,” Bucky says.

You nearly drop your gun in shock. His voice isn’t coming from your ear; it’s coming from out there.

Still, you don’t move. Is this a trick?

“Where you hidin’?” Bucky says.

He walks slow, closer and closer until you can imagine him turning in place, looking for you.

“I did laugh, by the way,” he adds. “You make me laugh a lot. Guess that’s how you could imagine it, huh?”

He’s chatting, just chatting. You tuck your chin against your arm, close your eyes, and listen.

“We could hear you, but I guess you couldn’t hear us.” Crunch. A foot in the sand. Scrape. A hand sliding against the canyon wall. “Sam found your crash. Signal got a little wonky, so he went north. Glad I got to go south, cause I know you’re close.” He chuckles, low and delightful and so warm you can’t feel the chill of the evening. “I can hear you breathin’. Hear your heartbeat, too. It’s a good one.”

Your lips curl into a smile. Usually, you’re the one who does the bulk of the talking. It’s a pleasant change of pace, really. He has such a nice voice.

Soon, you’ll go out, but for now, you just listen.

“Won’t you come out? You know it’s me, right?”

For the first time, he passes in front of your hiding spot. You can’t help the stutter in your breathing as the shadows darken behind his legs.

He drops down. You freeze, hold your breath. You will your heart to stop beating. Why did he have to stop talking? It was so nice to listen to him for a change…

A light shines in your eyes, and you yelp, throwing your arm over your face.

“What the fuck, Bucky!”

The light goes off, but the bright haze is still clouding your eyes when you lower your arm to glare.

“Sorry, sorry,” he says. He holds out his hand to you. You sigh, tuck your gun away, and let him help pull you out and to your feet. You wipe the sand from your front as Bucky looks you over, and then he crushes you against him in the tightest hug in the history of the world.

“Fu—I can’t breathe, Bucky,” you gasp.

Bucky lets go just a little. “Don’t do that again, okay?” He switches his comm—off? On? You don’t know. Then he does the same to yours. Off, you guess.

“Listen,” he says, eyes bright under the stars. He cups your face in his right hand, his skin warm against yours. Your heart pounds; he swallows thickly. “Please don’t do that again.”

“I’ll try,” you tell him. You wet your dry lips and try to make out his in the darkness. “But there’s no promises in this job. You know that.”

“Yeah…” He sighs. “I guess I do.”

“But I’ll try,” you repeat. You hold up a hand, pinky out. Bucky slowly hooks his pinky in yours, eyes blazing on your face. You squeeze your finger. “I promise.”

“Good.” He tugs you closer and presses the barest hint of a kiss to your brow.

You’re frozen again, but this time it’s not out of fear.

This time, it’s wonder.

For all his lips had been on your skin for barely a moment, you can still feel an echo, an imprint where they’d been.

There’s a link between you now, isn’t there? And it’s different than before.

Bucky switches his comm back on, his pinky still linked with yours.

“Got her,” he says. A pause, where he gazes at you, expression indecipherable. “Where should we meet you?” He looks away. “Okay.”

“Who was that?” you ask. It’s the best you can do with your skin still tingling from his touch. From his kiss.

“Sam,” he says. “This way.” He tugs you along, shifting his fingers until you’re holding hands properly.

It’s not the frantic drag that usually comes with his hand around yours on a mission. It’s gentle, warm; familiar, yet strange.

“Bucky…”

He pauses, glances back at you. “Hm?”

“I’m glad it was you who found me.”

Bucky smiles and squeezes your hand. “Me too, love. Me too.”

[ciarawritesmarvel]

the grand old oak tree - bucky x reader

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: Maybe some swearing? You guys know me and I’m not gonna check. A sprinkling of angst in a whirlwind of fluff.

A/N: Welcome to Day Twelve of Hello Spring by @ibwhellospring! Yes, I am still doing this, thanks for asking. I planned all these bloody oneshots and I am sure as hell going to write them. This one is a personal favourite, but you know I loves a flashback! And I also love you! Yes, you, whoever you are reading this. I bloody love you! <3 [i can’t add a gif right now but I will!]

Prompt: childhood memories

masterlist is in my bio and tags will be in the reblog - please do drop me an ask to be tagged in bucky, steve or hello spring pieces! enjoy!

 ---

You heard soft footsteps descending the stairs and turned to the doorway of the living room expectantly.

“Asleep?”

He nodded with a smile as he shut the door behind him as slowly and as quietly as possible before making his way over to your sofa and plopping himself down beside you with an exaggerated exhale. You put down your book, carefully putting the bookmark in it and placing it on the side table and then scooted back over into his arms, which were already held open and ready.

You snuggled into his side, as his arms came to rest around you and he kissed the side of your head chastely, nuzzling into you.

“She was desperate for a second story,” Bucky murmured into your hair and you hummed.

“It’s because it’s nearly Christmas. She’s so giddy all the time she can hardly go to sleep,” you explained quietly, closing your eyes as you relished in the peace of the moment with your husband.

You got many amazing moments with your husband each and every day but it would be tough to call any of them peaceful.

As if on cue, the door creaked open and a small head peered around the side, eyes narrow and sleepy.

You and Bucky shared a look.

“Can’t sleep, sweetheart?” you asked patiently, silently wondering how on earth Bucky could’ve thought she was asleep just a minute beforehand. Grace shook her head slowly and you smiled kindly at her, gently peeling yourself from the embrace you had been all too happy to be tangled up in. You took her much smaller hand in yours and led her upstairs, sending Bucky a wink through the crack in the door. He merely grinned at you.

“Would one more story help, Gracie?”

A nod.

“Which one would you like?”

“Make one up,” she said vehemently and then quickly, “Please.”

“Oh I don’t know, honey, it’s a little late-“

Her prominent pout cut that train of thought before it started even taking shape. You sighed.

“Okay then. But only if you promise to snuggle down and close your eyes while I tell you. Deal?”

“Deal,” she nodded eagerly and you squeezed her hand once before she cuddled under the covers and closed her eyes, indicating she was ready for you to begin.

You wracked your brain for something you could tell her, some myth about mermaids with long dark hair or explorers with funny hats or pixies with a mischievous smirk. None of them gave you quite the inspiration you were looking for however. Suddenly, an idea formed in your mind, one that you weren’t sure would work, but once thought of could not possibly be ignored.

“Once upon a time, there was a young girl, only 11 years old, and she was sat on a tree branch, just high up enough for her to feel like she was on top of the world…”

The sun was oppressive. The air felt sticky and humid, with heat beating relentlessly onto your back and a thin layer of sweat building up on the back of your neck as you ran through the field. Had you any sense, you might have slowed down and walked instead, just to ease the conditions a little, but your mind was made up on exactly where you were going and that made it impossible to slow down.

Allowed to finally go out on your own for a little while into the fields behind your house may have seemed like a small responsibility to any other, but to you it was a huge deal. Finally you were able to run up to the grand old oak you’d been eyeing up for two years straight and climb as high as you could, with no pesky grown ups to tell you to ‘come down now’ or to be ‘careful not to climb higher than I can reach’.

You reached the tree quickly and climbed it even quicker. A foothold here, a branch to pull yourself up with there and soon you were high enough to see your small cottage in the not so far distance and the large fields of yellow wheat spread out below you in swaying lines of colour. You grinned to yourself and sat down on the branch you’d reached. You eased yourself outwards just a little, tiny hands still just in reach of the trunk and swung your legs with miniature glee.

“...and just when the little girl began to get bored and was about to begin the arduous climb down, she heard a voice nearby and she strained to listen…”

The voice was hushed, but still very much audible.

“...765, 766, 767…”

You looked down below you, the height not bothering you in the slightest as you watched a boy wandering past slowly, probably around the same age as you, counting, it seemed, each and every step that he took.

You decided to take a chance.

“Hello!”

The boy stopped. Looked around. He was clearly confused.

“Up here!”

This time he looked up and his eyes widened at the sight of the little girl high up in the tree.

“Hello?” it shouldn’t have been a question and yet it was and it made you smile.

“What are you counting?”

He paused, as if trying to work out what your motive for asking could possibly be but then answered as if he’d realised that maybe you were genuinely curious. You were the tree climbing sort after all.

“Steps.”

You rolled your eyes but only because you knew he couldn’t see you do it. To him, you remained patient.

“What for?”

“I wanted to see how many steps there were between my house and the ice cream parlour.”

You nodded as if that were a perfectly reasonable way to spend a Sunday afternoon.

“I hope I haven’t made you lose count,” you joked and he grinned then, you could see it clearly. His chest puffed out just a little with a tinge of pride dusting his cheeks.

“Never. I’ll remember,” and then, as he remembered what his mother and sister had taught him, “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Why are you up a tree?”

You scoffed, because it was obvious. Of course.

“You’re telling me you’ve never climbed this tree?”

“No.”

“Never wanted to climb this tree?”

He paused.

“Well-”

“Come on up!” you shuffled even further along the branch and patted the space beside you losing the stability of the tree trunk in the hopes of gaining a friend. A fitting trade.

The boy looked unsure. If you didn’t know better, you might have said uneasy, but the glimmer in his eyes told you all you needed to know about how much this boy wanted to climb the tree. Those pesky grown ups were getting in his head.

As such, it took him a few moments to say yes, but once he had, he was far quicker climbing the tree than you had been, though the scratches and grazes on his knees were enough to tell you that you had been a far superior climber in technique if not in speed. Once he was beside you, he swung his legs over in a similar fashion to you.

“Worth it?”

A pause. A grin as he surveyed the land spread out in waves below them.

“Yeah. Worth it.”

You heard a chuckle behind you and turned to find him stood there, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed tightly over his chest and his fond smile directed at you. You grinned cheekily at him, turning your attention back to your daughter, who had one eye open but closed it quickly when she saw you looking. You shook your head.

“After that fateful Sunday, the little girl-”

“I think it’s time to hear about the little boy for a while, don’t you pumpkin?” Bucky interrupted you, wandering into the room and sitting down on the other side of your daughter’s bed, his hand sliding over yours that was resting on the covers. You gave him the side-eye as Grace nodded her head eagerly but then seemed to remember she was supposed to be asleep and gave a little half-snore. You rolled your eyes.

“After that fateful Sunday,” he imitated your voice and you stuck your tongue out at him, but he continued undeterred, “the little boy decided to return to the tree the next day, and the day after that, and the day after that and…”

Summer had suddenly become slightly more interesting.

It wasn’t that he wasn’t enjoying it anyway, the days away from the oppression of school and spent doing whatever it was he chose to do were lovely, but he missed his friends and living too far away from them to walk to their houses meant that summer just happened to be rather lonely. With Rebecca away at some camp for six weeks and his parents at work from nine to five, he had no transportation and no other people.

But now, he had you.

You were wonderful. Not a word he used often, but it was one he thought his mother might use to describe you and it seemed that thought had stuck with him ever since he’d first had it. You were wonderful. You climbed trees and you made up fun games and you saw the world in a way that made him want to see more of it with you. You were hilarious and you listened to him and overall, you were his new best friend.

He hadn’t told you this yet, but you were.

He walked along to what was now your ‘friendship tree’ (your words, not his, but words that he just so happened to love anyway) no longer bothering to count his steps because there was nothing of significance for him at the ice cream parlour anymore. He just wanted to get to that tree.

He was early, but you were still sat up there already, lying down this time, back against a branch and eyes fixed on the sky above. He began his climb.

“...this day was slightly different to the rest of those 86 days of summer had been, he could tell before she even said a word, but the boy paid it no mind and rested himself on a branch adjacent to hers, lying on his back…”

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

No exciting news to share. No new game to play. No ‘grown-ups’ problems to be talked through and complained about. A sinking feeling settled in his stomach as his head lolled to the side to look at you. He gave you a few moments to speak before he filled the silence for you.

“Cloudgazing?”

“No,” you said shortly and then, as if regretting it, “Thinking.”

“About what?”

His question was met with a heavy sigh as you tore your gaze from the sky and it landed on him.

“You know we go back to school in a few days, right?”

His brow furrowed. He hadn’t even thought about that. It hadn’t crossed his mind. And now that it had and his mind was working in overdrive he had an inkling as to what you may say next.

“Yeah, I know but-”

“We go to different schools. We live on opposite ends of the village. We have no mutual friends. Our parents are too busy to help us meet up,” you paused for emphasis but the boy had already got the idea, “Do you see what I’m getting at?”

“Yeah, I know but-”

“But what? You’re my best friend and now I’m not going to see you again,” your bottom lip was quivering slightly, almost imperceptibly but of course he could see it. He held his hand out between the branches and you took it, gingerly, a loose grip but a grip nonetheless.

“Let’s meet here,” he began and he talked over you when you tried to interrupt, “Every Sunday at four o’clock we can meet at this tree.” “But what if-”

It was his turn to interrupt her.

“No buts. You want to be best friends?”

Her hand was still in his as she nodded and he squeezed it lightly.

“Then let’s be best friends.”

Your gaze rested on your joined hands on the bed and you gave Bucky’s a tiny squeeze, to which he stopped talking just to look at you. You had a shy smile on your face, not quite meeting his eye and he chuckled: twelve years of marriage hadn’t changed a single thing.

“You know, I think I was in love with you even then,” Bucky whispered to you and you fixed him with a withering look, “I’m serious!”

“We were 10 years old James Buchanan Barnes, you were not in love with me.”

“I was! I might not have known it yet but I definitely was.”

“How can you be in love with someone and not even know it yet? And at 10 years old? I’m sorry, my love,” you taunted him, “but I’m just not buying-”

“Keep going,” Grace cut in softly, eyes still closed but grin firmly planted on her face and the two of you glanced at her then back to each other with a silent chuckle. It seemed responsible parenting had gone out the window as you made to continue.

“So that’s exactly what the little boy and the little girl did. They met up every Sunday afternoon, four o’clock exactly, only missing it for serious emergencies. That is, until they were eighteen...”

You pushed a particularly long patch of grass out of your way as you made your way to your favourite spot in the world, a smile on your face and a spring in your step. You’d worn your favourite skirt, the one that flared at the waist and didn’t quite meet your knees. Of course, you had thick tights on underneath it and a large coat wrapped around your frame because it was the middle of winter, but there was something about seeing him that made you tug the skirt over your head this morning regardless of the weather.

Eventually you came to the tree, with magic in its branches and footholds carved out from years of being climbed by two special people in particular. With a grin you began to climb, but stopped briefly when you saw a shadow in the tree already. You blinked.

He was never earlier than you. It had become a running joke, your earliness and his penchant for being exactly and completely on time to the very minute. But he was early. You weren’t sure whether to expect something good or something very very bad.

“They say that seeing is believing,” you began lightheartedly as you reached his branch and swung your legs to sit next to him, “But I’m still not sure I believe this.”

His lips curled just slightly into a half-smile but it didn’t reach his eyes, which hadn’t turned to you from their position fixed on the sky above. It was already getting darker, the sky a deeper blue, the clouds overbearing and imprisoning. Your heart dropped into the ground below. So it was bad then.

“Cloudgazing?” you asked, reminiscent of a conversation you still remembered vividly from that first summer.

“No,” he said, catching on and finally looking at you, “Thinking.”

You decided to change the script.

“That’s never good.”

“No. It isn’t.”

You let the silence sit there for a little while, just until it was about to suffocate you and then you surfaced for air.

“What’s going on?”

A pause. A deep breath. One that was shaky and all together just not him.

“You see, Gracie, the not-so-little-anymore boy had finally realised that he’d developed some feelings for the not-so-little-anymore girl and that because of them he couldn’t be happy being her best friend anymore. He resolved to tell her all of this, before they went off to college in a few months time and his chance was lost...”

“You’re my best friend.”

“...I know. You’re my best friend. Sweet of you to get so emotional about-”

“Let me finish.”

You reared back away from him, stung by the harshness in his words. Your defences were up instantly.

“Can we not do this today?” you asked with a sigh that made him look back up at the sky, “I was really looking forward to seeing you this afternoon because I have huge news that I have been wanting to tell you for days because it won’t feel real until I tell you and-”

“Hey, hey,” he soothed, his face resembling him back to normal again, although there was still something off about the look in his eye, “I’m sorry. I’ll say my thing afterwards-

“...as he was trying to buy himself some time to calm his nerves. He’d been all ready to tell her exactly how he felt...until he saw her, of course...”

“-what’s your thing?”

You perked up at his question and grinned at him.

“I have a boyfriend! Oh wow, I didn’t realise how excited I was to tell you about this, his name is-”

He didn’t hear the rest.

And he didn’t show the next weekend.

“After three weekends with no boy and no message to explain why left in the tree, the girl was heartbroken-”

“She was?” Bucky asked you and you shook your head at him exasperatedly.

“Yes, she was, I have told you that I- that she was many, many times,” you said to him with a pout and he brought your hand to his lips in way of an apology, a cheeky glint shining in his eyes.

“I know,” he admitted, “I just love hearing you say it.”

“That I was heartbroken?” you accused, forgetting the charade of the story and ripping your hand from his grasp, “You love hearing your wife telling you about the time she was utterly heartbroken?”

His eyes were blown wide as he stuttered his reply and you revelled in the sight.

“NO, no no no, no no, no, that- that is emphatically not what I meant. I just mean, the fact that you cared so much even back- I meant the way-”

You decided to put him out of his misery and took his hand in your own this time, bringing it up to your own face and holding it against your cheek, turning just slightly to press a feathery kiss to his palm. You gave him a knowing look and he breathed out a sigh of relief.

“After three weekends with no boy and no message to explain why left in the tree, the girl was heartbroken,” you continued, letting your joined hands drop down into your lap as you shuffled closer to one another on the bed, to the point where you could drop your head comfortably onto his shoulder, “She realised just how much the boy had meant to her, something she hadn’t been able to see when she had been taking him for granted for all their years of friendship.”

You were crying again. It had become a weekly occurrence it seemed, as you were able to keep your sunny disposition and shining eyes all week but when it came to four o’clock on a Sunday afternoon you lost all resolve and broke down yet again. It had been a few months. She knew the exact number of days, but she didn’t want to torture herself with that anymore.

Sometimes you went to the tree. Just in case. This seemed to be one of those days, you felt that need to go, even though the spring air had a frosty chill in it and you hadn’t thought to grab your coat. Your hands were working their way up and down your arms as you walked, tears dried against cheeks but eyes still shining. Everytime a particularly cold wind blew you slowed down to brace for it, then continued walking.

You got to the tree. Nobody was there, but you’d known there wouldn’t be before you’d set out. Still you climbed it, less nimbly than before, with shaking hands and nearly numb fingertips. You swung your legs over your branch, like you had a thousand times before and yet nothing like those thousand times at all, really.

You sat for a while, looking out over the view. There had been a few changes in eight years, the fields now sporting potatoes instead of wheat, which were not nearly as pretty. There were a few more houses in the distance and a few less trees. The world had grown up too, you realised.

“...and just as the girl was about to get too sentimental and begin the climb down, she heard a voice nearby and she strained to listen…”

The voice was hushed, but still very much audible.

“-long time no see- no that’s wrong, all wrong-”

“-hi, how are you? Yeah, of course you should greet her like you’ve not been a dickhead for months you-you dickhead-”

“-so I’m in love with you and- jesus christ what is wrong with you?-”

Her heart fluttered. And her mind calmed. And her tears were back with a vengeance, just pooling in her eyes as she listened intently. And before she knew it he’d emerged from the woodland and he was walking right underneath her just passing by the tree.

So you decided to do exactly what you’d done on that fateful Sunday afternoon eight years ago.

You decided to take a chance.

The soft sounds of deep breathing, with just a sprinkling of a snore, echoed in the bedroom. You peered over the covers to see little Gracie’s face finally asleep, snuggled into her pillow and her cuddly white wolf that she couldn’t sleep without. You let out a soft sigh.

Signalling to Bucky, you both stood from the bed carefully and tiptoed out of the room, closing the door behind you with a soft click and walking down the hall to your own bedroom. Storytelling had been long and just a little tiresome, and you both knew without words that it was bedtime.

When you arrived in your room, however and shut that door behind you, Bucky encircled your waist with his arms and turned you to face him, letting you fall against his chest as he pulled you inwards. You smiled at him fondly, tilting your head.

“You never finished the story.”

“Our daughter fell asleep,” you chuckled, “And the story was for our daughter, wasn’t it?”

“Oh I don’t know. I think we were kind of telling that story to each other too.”

You shrugged in his hold as best you could and he tightened his grip, swaying you softly in his arms a little before picking you up firmly and falling onto the bed with you, landing side by side, noses touching and hushed giggles sounding throughout the room.

“You’re insatiable, Bucky.”

“How does the story end?” he pressed and you shook your head, letting your forehead rest against his as you leaned into him. You closed your eyes and his seemed to involuntarily flutter shut at the contact.

“As all good stories do,” you whispered against his lips, kissing him briefly before pulling away only slightly to murmur the words you knew he wanted to hear.

“They lived happily ever after.”

[notimetoblog]

Photograph

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Category: fluffy

Warnings: nothing but fluffy fluffy fluff!!

Day 6: Photograph from @ibwhellospring ‘s Spring Short Story Writing Event [hosted by @itsbuckysworld ].

 “You look like one of those male models that are on the picture that come with the frame,” you laughed, not even trying to hide the way you let your eyes rake over Bucky’s figure.

  He was in a suit that was entirely unfair. In a deep navy-blue suit and a black shirt that made his eyes stand out so much it was impossible to tear your gaze from them. As if that wasn’t enough, he had the audacity to send a smirk your way as he took in how flustered you seemed.

  “Don’t look at me like that, Barnes,” you playfully hit his arm, something he took advantage of by grabbing your hand, pulling you close to him.

  “Like what, doll?” he said in a husky voice that made your knees buckle.

  “You know exactly how. With that little smirk of yours.”

“Can’t really do much else when you throw such a nice compliment my way,” he said, breath now fanning across your neck as he gently kissed his way up to your jaw, peppering kisses there too. It took everything in you not to push him back into your bedroom in the hopes he forgot all about the event he was scheduled to appear in.

  “You’re not playing nice,” you giggled, letting your hands get tangled in his hair. “You’re kissing me but you’re leaving in a few minutes and that is just not fair.”

  “You wanna know what’s not fair,” he chuckled, his lips searching for more places to kiss. “The fact that you’re not coming to this thing with me.”

 “You know I can’t go,” you pushed him back a bit, laughing as the distance caused him to pout.

 He could be way too adorable for his own good.

  “Yeah I know,” he sulked. “Guess this male model is going to have to go alone.”

  “I really shouldn’t have said that,” you said throwing your head back to laugh. “Your ego is big enough as it is.”

  “You love me and my gigantic ego,” he teased. “Wouldn’t have me any other way.”

  “Is that so,” you giggled.

  “Absolutely.”

  Checking his watch, he begrudgingly left your side, picking up a few things Steve had asked him to let him borrow for the event. Taking advantage of him being away from the living room you quickly raided the closet looking for that instant camera you had gotten him a few Christmases ago.

  “Alright, doll, I gotta go,” you heard him approaching the living room once again. Tossing the camera aside you went up to him to give a quick peck on the lips.

“Have fun, love,” you said with a smile.

  “I’ll try,” he said returning your kiss.

  As he made his way to the front door, you quickly grabbed the camera once more, before following him to the door.

  “I’ll see you later, “ he called out, his back to you as he opened the front door.

  “Hey Buck,” you said, camera ready.

  As soon as he had turned just enough to face you, you snapped the photograph, the flash catching by surprise.

  “There,” you laughed, getting the picture, “now you really will be the male model that comes with the frame.”

[daenyara]

spilled | danyara

pairing: Daenerys Targaryen x Yara Greyjoy (highschool AU); implied Sansaery

words: 1.5k

prompt: white party (day #27 of @ibwhellospring​ )

synopsis: Dany has an interesting encounter at a party.

a/n: I’m blaming @polar-biscuit​ and this absolute work of art

Missandei’s eyes lit up with excitement as she grabbed her best friend by the hand, trying to convince her to get away from her laptop. “We should go! Oh, it’s gonna be so much fun, and everyone’s going to be there.”

Daenerys pursed her lips, trying not to sigh. She didn’t want to let Missandei down, but still, the last things she needed right now was a distraction. Not with all those college interviews coming up. 

“I don’t know... I still have a lot to do, and-” she tried to reason, but she was immediately cut off by her friend. 

“Aw, come on!” Missandei stared at her with pouty lips, and Daenerys cursed to herself, knowing that nothing she could say or do was going to be enough against those dark puppy eyes. “Dany, you’re my best friend. I hate seeing you like this. You’re exhausted and you haven’t left your room in two days,” lamented Missandei, and behind her pleading, Dany could see that she looked quite concerned.

She wasn’t lying, of course. All the extra assignments she was working on had kept Danerys pretty busy, those last few days. But she couldn’t give up, not now that she was so close to realizing her dreams, or her ‘vision’, as she liked to call it. Dreams were for children, after all. What she had was a plan to make the world a better place, and to do that she had to be perfect. It didn’t matter to her that she had to sacrifice a party or a comfortable good night sleep, she knew it was all gonna pay off, in the end. The hard part was explaining it to everyone else, especially her friends.

Dany took a deep breath. “I need that interview to go well, Missandei. It’s Harvard we’re talking about! I don’t have the time to think about parties. I have a goal, I can’t just expect things to turn out well on their own.”

Missandei’s expression melted into an encouraging smile. “And you’ve been working hard since forever to achieve those goals. You deserve some time to enjoy yourself, don’t you think?” She could see the hesitation in Dany’s eyes, so she gave her a little smirk. “It’s just one party, not the end of the world. Tomorrow you’ll go back to being a wonderful warrior queen.”

Daenerys finally let out a laugh, her silver hair fluttering as she threw her head back. “Maybe you’re right,” she admitted, right before glancing at the glass vivarium on her desk, where three full-grown crocodile skinks were sleeping peacefully. One of them – the biggest one, with black and red scales – cracked one eye open and stared back at her with interest. Dany smiled. “I earned a bit of freedom, didn’t I?”

The lizard chirped, on cue. Missandei clasped her hands together, giggling.

“See? Even Drogon agrees.”

“Fine, then. But if the party isn’t as amazing as you promised...” began Dany, pointing a threatening finger at her friend.

Missandei nodded eagerly, before concluding the sentence for her, “...We’ll leave and you will go back to your flashcards and college brochures.” With that she jumped on her feet and grabbed the purple box she had brought, handling it to Daenerys. “Here.”

“What’s this?” asked Dany, eyeing both her friend and the box in suspicion.

“I took the liberty to pick an outfit for you.” Missandei flashed an innocent grin at Dany. “Didn’t I mention it? There’s a pretty strict dress-code... We’re going to a white party!”

*****

Dany huffed, smoothing the creases of the fabric with a nervous motion. She had to admit it, Missandei’s fashion eye had been impeccable as always. The dress she had chosen for her was simply perfect. Elegant with a bold twist, but still it didn’t make it seem like she was overdressed. And most importantly, it was of the same shade of pearly white as her hair. Somehow, wearing it made her feel powerful – and dangerous.

“They really went all out, huh?” she commented, raising an eyebrow while she gazed at the giant pool where people where sipping cheap bear with their clothes still on.

When there was no reply she turned with a frown, just in time to see Missandei’s eyes falling to the ground, blushing. Following her gaze, Dany saw a cute guy with dark eyes and a brooding expression that seem to melt away every time he glanced in their direction.

“Missandei?” called Dany, a mischievous grin spreading across her face.

Her friend quickly raised her head, looking startled. “Y– yes?”

“You should go talk to him.”

“Talk to- Who?” marvelled Missandei, but when she saw the glint in Dany’s eyes she realized there was no point in hiding it. She exhaled, suddenly sad. “If he wanted to talk to me he would’ve done it by now.”

She didn’t even know the boy’s name. She had heard his friends calling him ‘Grey Worm’, though she wasn’t sure how he got to deserve such a nickname. All she knew was that she frequently caught him glancing at her from a distance whenever they were in the same room, quickly averting his gaze as soon she noticed. They had two classes together and he still hadn’t talked to her.

“Excuse me? Have you seen the way he looks at you? In my book, that usually means he’s interested,” chuckled Dany, knowingly. She had her share of romance and boyfriends, and although she hoped that Missandei would be luckier than her in that department, she sure could read that guy’s expression. “Trust me, boys are easy to read,” she sighed, almost with disdain.

Missandei chewed on her lip, pensive. “Isn’t it too forward if I make the first move?”

“Love rewards the bold ones,” shrugged Dany, before nudging her friend jokingly. “Go, or else I’ll push you into the pool and then he’ll have to save you.”

They both laughed. Missandei raised her hands in defeat. “Okay, alright, I’m doing it. But can I at least drink something before? ”

“Let’s go find you some liquid courage, my friend,” said Dany in a mock pompous voice, as she locked her arm with her friend’s.

They had just grabbed two cups of kombucha and were heading back to the pool, when someone suddenly collided with Daenerys, spilling a drink over her dress.

“Hey!” she shrieked in protest, scowling as she looked down at her ruined clothes.

“Fuck, sorry! I didn’t see you there,” she heard a voice saying, and she looked up with a furious frown.

“Well, then maybe you should watch where you’re go-”

Dany’s words died on her lips as she sized up the girl in front of her. 

She was way taller than her, towering over her petite figure, and her ocean blue eyes sparkled with mischief. Clearly, she wasn’t one to stress over dress code, and her black t-shirt stood out beautifully in the sea of white all around. She was pretty, maybe a couple of years older than Dany – even though she could’ve sworn she had never seen her at their school. Dany’s eyes ran down from the girl’s arm, hovering over her sleeve tattoo of what appeared to be a Kraken tearing a ship apart. There were some words written right below the creature, but Dany couldn’t make them out. 

Daenerys blushed, realizing she had been staring, and gazed up to the girl once again, who was checking her out appreciatively. She offered Dany a sheepish smile and a napkin.

“Here. Wouldn’t want you to ruin your pretty dress, would we?” she said in a velvety voice, and Dany couldn’t quite decide whether she was teasing her or not. Nevertheless, she grabbed the napkin and started drying her dress.

“Thank you.”

From the other side of the back yard, a guy called, “Yara, you coming or what? Robb just challenged me to a beer pong tournament, I need you on my team so we can wipe the floor with his ass.”

The guy, noticed Dany, looked a lot like Yara. They had the same cocky grin and eyes like salty water. Next to him stood a tall, pretty girl with auburn hair, who was glaring at Daenerys, and – sitting in her lap – a cute brunette with rosy cheeks and an amused smile.

“Coming,” yelled back Yara, her eyes never leaving Dany’s face. “Everything okay, princess?”

The pet name shook her out of her daze and she cleared her throat, her brows furrowed. “It’s Daenerys.”

“Heh. Princess suits you way better,” shrugged Yara with a wink, before turning on her heels to leave. “See you around, gorgeous,” she shouted, waving her hand.

“Oh. My. God!” hissed Missandei in excitement when they were out of earshot. She handed her drink to Dany. “Take it. You need it more than I do.”

Daenerys stood there in stunned silence, her eyes set where a moment before she had seen Yara’s back disappearing into the crowd.

[itsbuckysworld]

HELLO SPRING DAY 6

Pairing: Teacher!Bucky x Teacher!Reader Category: Teacher AU! Warnings: fluff bomb! Two idiots in love acting like preteens with crushes. Word Count: 2K i went sooo ham. Guest Appearance: Steef and Sammy

Summary: It’s picture day at their Middle School. Mr. Barnes is wearing his best definitely not to impress Ms. Y/L/N, and Ms. Y/L/N is wearing her best, definitely not to impress Mr. Barnes.

Day 6: Photograph, for my Spring Short Story Writing Event

YOUR OUTFIT \\\ /// MR.BARNES

Bucky fixed his small bowtie with a wide grin as he looked at the kids walking in, being dropped off by smiley parents, and wearing their absolute best. It was picture day at St. George’s Middle School, and his class had won both first and second place at the state science fair, so besides taking individual photos, the kids had earned their own page on the yearbook, a photo congratulating their success and their teachers’ as well, so he’d insisted they come dressed to the nines and ready to have fun, promising them he would come in his best outfit as well.

He got chuckles and comments from Sam and Steve, his coworkers, when he walked into the teacher’s room early that morning in search for coffee, but he kindly reminded them that only teachers with award winning classes got to dress as fancy as him. “Ya sure that’s the only reason you’re spiffed up as if you’re going to the met gala?” Steve commented with a slight raise of his eyebrow, half ignoring Sam’s confused glance at his choice of words. “Spiffed up, it means well-dressed” “Don’t use complex words in front of Wilson, you know how he gets” Bucky mocked, trying to avert the focus of the conversation off of him. “I understood, what I don’t understand is why you and Y/N haven’t jumped each other bones yet”

Ah there it was, Bucky rolled his eyes over the rim of his coffee mug.

Y/N the newest addition to St. George’s teacher council, a science teacher, been there for a little over a year and had already won his kids the top spots at the competition last month by being the catalyst for their newfound love for science. Ever since she had accidentally spilt her coffee all over him during a lunch period, back when she was only two months into teaching at this school, Bucky had been smitten, but that’s something he didn’t want anyone to know, more specifically Steve or Sam. So he evaded every Y/N talk with his two friends, at all costs.

Except Steve could read him too well, and he wasn’t able to keep the secret from Sam, who wasn’t blind either, and so the teasing was always present. Specially when he was so easy to read, exiting the teacher’s room as soon as her name was mentioned, setting way to greet his students coming in.

Was he extra dolled up for his photo with both his class and Y/N? Maybe, but he was not going to admit it out loud.

“Good morning Mr. Barnes!” claimed little Harrison, giving him a high-five as he was coming in. Bucky was just finishing answering the young boy when he heard Steve call his name barely above a whisper from down the hall. His blue eyes shot up, only to find his childhood best friend using his head to point not so discreetly to his right. As Bucky straightened up and looked, his breath was knocked out of his lungs.

There you were, coming in the school grounds with your books clutched tight to your chest, the characteristic blue pen you always kept behind your ear. Your blouse was adorned with butterflies, much like the ones fluttering in his tummy, a flowy summery yellow skirt complementing the outfit and you looked so young and bright and beautiful that he’s sure his heart is not going to be able to contain itself in his chest.

You walk down the hall, wiggling your fingers in his direction as a hello, and giving him your brightest smile. It’s not until you’re almost walking right past him that he shakes his head and blurts out an excited “Hi! Morning!” to you. Your giggle is like music to his ears and watching your figure walk away down the hall is all he can do – that and try not to drool – as he sees the swish of the skirt with each step you take, your hair free and bouncy as you say hello to everyone you encounter down the hallway. His eyes meet Steve’s knowing ones when he stops looking at your distant frame, and he’s smacked back to reality, clearing his throat and shrugging at Steve – as if saying “pshh, I was not staring at her, im totally cool” – and fleeing his best friend’s intense stare when the bell rings.

He has the reddest cheeks when he begins his morning announcements.

Steve and Sam’s banter doesn’t end, it only resumes as they stand in line waiting to get their picture taken for the yearbook, it only subsides when you walk in and join them, talking about anything and everything. Even though they are not verbal about his huge crush on you, he can feel it in their glances and their inside jokes that keep coming up now and then. His contributions to the conversation are minimal and space-y. It’s difficult to make whole sentences when you’re around. How did he become a teacher again? He’s supposed to know how to fucking talk. “Now best dressed award goes to you Y/N” Sam implies, smiling over at Bucky all too knowingly. You blush slightly and laugh, fanning your face jokingly. “Why thank you, Mr. Wilson” “Looking to impress anyone?” Steve continues and it takes everything in Bucky not to step on his friend’s foot and shut him up. “Hmmm, maybe, maybe not” you say and the glance you give Bucky has his mind reeling. Did that mean anything? No way, no fucking way. He stammers, but the coy glance is over before he can fully register what just happened. “We’ll see” you say and walk over to the table with refreshments to get yourself a bottle of water.

He can’t get it any harder even if he tried. You already had your photo taken and of course you look amazing in it – he has yet to see it, but he just knows – and now here you were making light conversation with him as you waited for the kids to take their photo. You don’t have to, but you like his company and he’s weak at the knees when you tell him so, thinking back to that look you spared him. He really does try his best to maintain a logical conversation that doesn’t showcase how lovestruck he is over you, but it’s so damn hard. He’s sure he’s complimented your outfit a good three times in the course of the day, but each time he does, he wins one of your giggles and it’s worth it. He also takes note that you didn’t giggle the same way when Sam had told you you looked cute and he has to almost slap himself to not look too much into it.

His class walks in, all of them in an organized line, all prim and proper, two of them holding onto the trophies they had snatched and it feels his heart with pride. You grab his arm and squeal, equally happy they’ve done such an amazing job, and his heart flutters in his chest. That’s got to be some medical condition he needs to get checked, but at the same time, you two look like proud parents at their kid’s graduation and the image doesn’t go over his head.

Breathe Bucky. Breathe, he tells himself as the two of you stand behind the posing kids, shoulder to shoulder and you decide to wrap your arm around his for the photo. “Mr. Barnes should hold the trophy for one photo!” one of the children says and he’s quick to retract. “No, no. This is all your effort. If anything, Ms. Y/L/N should hold one” your hand tugs at his when he finishes his sentence that has caused the kids to debate up a storm on which adult should hold what. He looks back at you. “No no. I agree with Mr. Barnes” you say and he’s always adored how you say his last name, probably more than when you call him by his first. “The trophy is yours guys” “Miss, we want you to hold it for a photo, you too Mr. Barnes” Morgan, one of the preppiest and smartest in the group speaks over everyone else, and they all agree as they place one of the trophies in Bucky’s hand, the other on yours.

You give him a shrug and a quick wink, and all he can do is stare with a dumb grin on his face, but you’re looking right back at him and he really likes it. He could look at you for hours, his eyes dancing over your features, memorizing them, appreciating them. “Could we get the teachers looking at the camera?” the photographer adds, snapping you out of your trance, getting you to turn to look at the camera. He stammers and chuckles nervously through an apology, and your giggle is in his ear, causing him to have trouble breathing.

He’s got a tight grip on your hand as he helps you down the stacks placed to organize the kids on the frame and not have anyone covered by someone taller on the front. The kids are all laughing and murmuring, their pitter patter fading in the back, exiting the gymnasium and on their way to the next class. You trip slightly and his hands rush to your waist to stabilize you, the apples of his cheeks red as they have ever been and the sight is endearing. “Thank you” your voice is barely above a whisper as he slowly lets go of you, but remains close, at half arms reach. His blue eyes find yours. Your smile mirrors his, shy and nervous. Flirty. And in a quick spurt of confidence, you stand on the tip of your toes and press your lips to his cheek, a millimeter away from the corner of his mouth.

Ok, now his cheeks are redder than ever. Warm and fuzzy is how he describes the feeling that small peck gave him, from the tip of his toes to the last strand of his hair.

The two of you stand there, for who knows how long, because time is irrelevant right now as Bucky processes and rehearses something to say. Meanwhile you beat yourself up in your head. So awkward, so awkward so awkward! You have ruined everything!

The school bell cuts the moment short, making him almost jump a foot away from you and you both clear your throats. “I should… I-” he points over his shoulder making a silly face and dancing on the balls of his feet. “Yeah, yeah, sure! I have uh…” you laugh nervously. “Class and, and, and-” “Exams to grade!” you hum in agreement, raising your arms and looking at the ceiling as if saying sooo many exams “And, you know…” he chirps in, clapping his hands awkwardly and rubbing his palms together. You sway to and fro, playing with the hem of your skirt and nodding obsessively at nothing. “Totally! Me too” he starts to walk away, cursing himself under his breath. What in the world was that? No, fix it Barnes, fix it now.

He’s halfway the distance to the door when he does a 180 and returns to stuttering, his hand nervously and furiously scratching at the back of his head. “Hey so…” “Yeah?” the response is too quick for your liking, how silly of you, why are you such a mess when he’s around? “Uh, maybe we- we could… you know grab some coffee after? And grade! Grade those assignments” “Yeah! Grade ‘em! Of course!” “Yeah, it’d be easier, right? If we- If we” “Got it, yeah... I’m free” “You are?” you nod frantically, cheeks blazing hot. “Good! Good, good” he stares at the patterns on his shoes “Great” “Awesome”

Bucky bites at his bottom lip, hands sunken down deep in his pockets and you’re no different, fingers intertwined behind your back to keep yourself occupied. In a few short steps, Bucky’s regained the distance he put between the two of you, pressing the quickest peck on your cheek before rushing back away, he clears his throat, letting somewhat of a laugh escape, and then is out the gym with his shoulders up to his ears.

He feels like a schoolboy once again, and you’re not far away, swishing your skirt from side to side, your lip between your teeth and a coy giggle deserving of the schoolgirl with a crush award, hand on your chest as you sigh in relief. Oh, finally.

feedback is greatly appreciated and encouraged!! I WENT HAM WITH THIS AND OH THE FLUFF. I ALSO EXPECT TO WRITE MORE TEACHER!BUCKY IN THE FUTURE. Be it college, high school or middle school teacher, I have a lot of mr. barnes inspo, and Ms. Y/L/N as well. 

Hope you enjoyed it!

[captainamericasbeard]

Communication Skills

Pairing: Bucky x Reader Word Count: 800 Category: Fluff Warnings: None

A/N: This is my entry for Day 14 of @ibwhellospring ‘s 31 day short story writing challenge. Today’s prompt was when the met again. I’ll put links for each day on my masterlist if you want to catch up.

Masterlist

Bucky had been acting strange all week. You’d caught him staring at you with his murder glare multiple times. He made it a point to sit next to you in meetings and at meals. But he was yet to say a word to you. And there he was again, the murder glare all through movie night while you’re sandwiched on the couch between Nat and Steve. You rested your head on Steve’s shoulder as you started to get sleepy and he abruptly left the room. Your head snapped up as your eyes followed him out and you turned to look at Nat questioningly. She gave you a shrug and a sly smile and turned her attention back to the movie.

You made a snap decision and untangled yourself from your blanket, following Bucky out of the room. You catch up to him in the hall outside your bedroom. It almost felt like he’d been waiting for you.

“Hey!” you call out. Bucky stiffens at the sound of your voice and you sigh audibly. What are you even trying to accomplish here? “What’s going on Bucky?” He turns and looks at you and there’s a thunder in his expression that stops your steps.

“What do you mean?” he asks gruffly, avoiding your gaze for once.

“You just left. And you’ve been acting weird all week. Did I do something? Did I offend you somehow?” you ask, not realizing it had been worrying you until now. You and Bucky weren’t friends but you didn’t want to hurt him.

“No. No, nothing like that,” Bucky says, his voice is almost a whisper.

“Then what?” You’re not letting him off the hook right now. You take a few steps closer and reach out your hand to give his a reassuring squeeze. He stares at your hands, your fingers wrapped around his and then looks you in the eyes. His expression is unfathomable and you realize what it means a moment too late. He steps forward confidently and reaches his free hand up to the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair, slowly pulling your lips into his. You gasp but do nothing to stop him. He drops your hand and moves his to your waist, pulling you closer to him as you lightly rest your hands on his chest. His mouth moves around yours, his tongue swiping at your bottom lip and you let him in. Your brain is a fog and before you realize what’s happening he’s broken the kiss and is stalking away, his hands clenched at his sides as he disappears into his bedroom. You bring your fingers to your lips as your brain and heart start to implode.

You quietly step to your bedroom door across from Bucky’s and go inside, the rest of the movie forgotten. You change into shorts and a t-shirt and climb under the covers with your mind still spinning. Bucky kissed me. Bucky kissed me and I kissed him back. Bucky kissed me and I kissed him back and I think I really liked it. You were busy screaming internally when there was a soft knock on your door. You said nothing but the door opened a few inches anyway and Nat popped her head in.

“You ok?” Your friend asked coyly. Eyes wide and covers pulled up to your nose, you just shrugged.

“Barnes finally make a move?” She asks knowingly. You nod.

“What are you gonna do about it?” You shrug your shoulders

“OK well, let me know how that goes.” Nat says and closes your door behind her.

It was a very long night.

You met again at dawn. You couldn’t feign sleep any longer so you kicked off your covers and opened the door. You took the few steps across to Bucky’s room and raised your hand to knock only to have the door open for you. There stood Bucky look just as well rested as you in a pair of low slung grey sweats and a tight t-shirt. Your stomach clenched at the sight.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky said without preamble. “I-“

“Don't be!” you say, cutting him off.

“Yeah?” He asks, his head snapping up and his eyes locking on yours.

“Yeah,” you say, offering him a shy smile.

“I just- I just didn’t know what to say,” he says, dropping his head and trying to tuck a stray bit of hair behind his ear.

“Yeah, I mean we definitely need to work on your communication skills, but we can focus on that after coffee.” You smile at him more confidently this time and he smiles back. You take his hand and weave your fingers into his, pulling him toward the kitchen for coffee. Coffee first, communication lessons second.

[frekydeki]

Returned

A/n: I’m terrible because I haven’t posted for the @ibwhellospring writing event in like six days... But I’m gonna catch up while I can, and since I’ve finally had time today to sit and write, I threw this together. Generally speaking, this is a fluff, but me being me, it ends in angst. Please enjoy! :)

Prompt: First kiss/ last kiss

Pairing: (Bucky X reader) at this point I guess it’s not really a surprise I’m just such a hoe for Bucky

"So this is the weeks dame, huh?" Is sighed next to the soldier. He removed his eyes from his brunette date and put them on the red lipped woman next to him. Her eyes turned up to his, egging him on for an answer but instead closing up his throat; boy she was poison to him. "Now what's that supposed to mean?" He barked down to her, leaned closer to her in that booth, and grinned at the spark he saw snap into her eye. Instead of rewarding him with the smack of her exceptionally well chosen words - she'd always had a tongue sharper than anything he could think of - she returned her eyes to the small form uncomfortably lingering next to the woman and her red haired friend. "I'm just wondering if she'll beat your record, Buck." The girl sighed as she put her drink down and rested her empty hands on her lap. "Not that it'd be the hardest thing to beat. I mean, the longest you've kept a girl by your side's been what? A week and a half, two at most?" "Don't you make me sound to be a player! She'll up and leave me faster than that floating car broke down earlier!" He had to really strain his ear to catch the soft, wind chime of a giggle that came from his friend next to him. "Well shouldn't you be up there with her, then? Now if I were ever taken on a date, I'd be darned if he wasn't spending time with me!" Bucky, at that, let out an exasperated sigh, smacked his lips, and flicked his wrist at the girl. "I couldn't leave you alone at the table." He flicked his head in the direction of the greasy haired man that'd been eying his friend the entire time they were there, "I wouldn't want the vultures swoopin’ in, lookin for a meal." 

"He couldn't say a word to me over this music no matter how hard he tried Bucky. I'm deaf as a doorknob here!" She whined, patting her hand over her pretty locks of hair. He smiled warmly at the pout the girl wore while she was in that joint... He knew she hated to be in such loud, crowded places, but Bucky just couldn't stand it if he didn't spend his last day in Brooklyn with his best friend and the girl he adored more than his mother's pies on a summer afternoon. A tray slapped down onto the table, filled with fries and every other type of ungodly food, and one little thing of ranch and carrots for the tiny framed man scowling at the two; both smiled warmly and sweetly up to him. "Bucky, you bring (Y/n) and I along to the most expensive diners in town to impress these girls you like to swing around with and frankly I am quite tired of it. It's eating us out of house and home!" Steve cried, motioning to his wide eyed sister. She merely laughed and pulled her older brother down by his sleeve. "Stevie don't you worry about something so measly as that! Tonight is the last night we get with Sergeant Barnes before he's off to be a hero, so we best make the most of it! Now hand me those fries I feel like I'll pass out if I go any longer without food." Her brother shoved them to her, lecturing her about how unhealthy they were to eat. "You alright there, doll?" Bucky asked the red cheeked girl, evaluating everything that was off about her that night. He'd been taking notes since he first laid eyes on her from that staircase all the way up to that moment, when it'd become too much for him to ignore anymore. Her lips were pulled down at the corners rather than resting lazily in a smile... Her eyes kept getting lost in thought while staring at nothing in particular. She'd take up her skirts in her fists or clench them together until her knuckles were white in her lap. Her shoulders were slouched when she'd usually hold them back in a confident manner... And he just couldn't help that knocking on his gut that (Y/n) just wasn't feeling well at all. In response, the girl hesitated before popping the fry in her mouth. Her eyes were kept on her hands for an alarmingly long time, and neither of those men failed to catch on to that. After she swallowed that fry, however, she beamed up to him with a smile brighter than any sun, and one that was even faker than any plastic he'd seen; it made him sick to his stomach if he was honest. "I'm dandy as a dandelion!" Steve's skin crawled with the cold lie that came from her lips. "Please don't lie like that, Y/n... It makes me uncomfortable." Bucky sighed with a smile. Her lips pursed in disappointment. "I've been just fine, right, Steve?" She looked to her brother expectantly; his answer less than satisfied the girl now glaring at her brother after the words, "No, Y/n, you've not been. A moping mess slouching around the apartment is what you've been." Came out of his mouth mindlessly. Bucky laughed heartily at the betrayed look that came from his friend. Silfishly, his thoughts began roaming about what could be knocking her so off the mark... And he ventured that perhaps it was him bringing yet another girl with them - she'd always acted a little like that when he did, but never so drastically - and even worse than that, he thought it may have to do with him leaving tomorrow in the morning. Silence rang between the three figures at the table, one carelessly snapping away at carrots, one taking preoccupied, nervous sips of her drinks, and the last staring very intensely at the other. "It's gotten pretty stuffy in here." Steve commented. Y/n nodded in agreement very quickly. "Let's go for a walk, then." Bucky suggested to the two, who gladly began gathering their things to get out of there as fast as they could. "I'll go get-" "They left. Said something about having a curfew, and told me to tell you they had a good time and would write ya." Bucky's mouth drew into a thin line. That was- "How rude!" Y/n screeched as she snatched her purse from the leather booth and stormed between them directly towards the door. "Any person with even a little bit of decency would've said goodbye themselves! For shame! Those young ladies were a bad pick on your part Barnes! And don't you say I didn't tell you so!" She was on a rant just a little ways in front of the two meandering men, both offering her warm smirks. She was a rather passive woman, until someone lit her wick and she exploded like the firecracker she was. "Say, Buck... When're you gonna tell her?" Steve leaned closer to his friend and kept his voice low so the woman in front of them couldn't hear. "Tell' er what?" Bucky stuffed his hands into his uniform pockets and looked back to the flailing woman in front of him. "Tell her that you like her?" His feet stopped moving, and so did his lungs. Like her? Like her! His wide blue eyes turned onto his friends, his mouth open and looking for the words to say to him. "I... I have no idea what you're talking about!" He coughed as he moved to catch up to Steve. A nice laugh left his friend. "Well, I just thought that maybe since you invited her everywhere, watched her every little move, smiled at everything she did, stood so close to her, found random excuses to touch her... Ya know, that you'd maybe like her... Maybe..." Steve raised his eyebrow at him before continuing his interogation, "Love her even?" "Even if I did, Steve, nothings gonna turn of it." "Why?" "I'm off to war. She's here. Plus... Y/n's your little sister. I'd hate to offend you." "Offend me! You? You're my best friend!" Steve rammed his boney elbow into Bucky's rib cage. "There's not a better man I know, and no one I'd trust her more with. Besides... There's not a man she loves and treasures more than you, Buck." Silence rumbled between the two. One having a revalation, the other painfully tired of watching the two love birds dance around each other and avoid every chance to make a move. "Other than me, of course." The blonde added. Bucky let out a loud laugh. At that, the girl locked her fiery eyes on the soldier. "Something funny, Barnes?" "Not at all!" She remained in her spot while he stepped dangerously close to her; instead of backing down she remained firm in her spot, raised her chin, and narrowed her eyes playfully. "You might not be a Sergeant mister but I'll still take ya!" She challenged. Bucky grinned as he leaned down a little closer to her. "Yeah? What'll you do about it, doll?" She was going to bite back at the brunette but Steve called down to the two from the doorway. "I'm going in. I'll catch a cold if I dilly out here much longer. I'll see you in the morning, Buck. Come inside soon, Y/n, can't have you getting a cold either." With that, his small frame was gone from view. The girl stepped up the stairs a little while Bucky stared in wonder; did she truly love him? She must've felt his eyes on her, because she snapped around and leaned to catch his darting blue eyes. "It's everything alright Bucky?" "Peachy!" She raised her brow as she tightened her folded hands on the handles of her purse and watched him intensely. "It's cold out!" He blurted nervously, messing with the hat on his head. "You got assigned to day, right?" Her voice had taken on a much softer chime. Bucky let out a loud breath through his nose. He nodded as he tried to ignore the burning beginning in his upper abdomen. "107th." He answered. "Steve got in too... Special circumstances he says." She quietly mumbled as she kicked the toe of her black heel on the step. It didn't take much examining for Bucky to notice the glazed look taking over in her downcast eyes. Bucky, without thinking much - he never did when it came to Y/n - took a few steps up to her and put his hand on her chin. "I'll protect him with everything I have, Y/n. Always have. Always will." She stared up at him, and he could see she was trying to steel her quivering lip. She nodded and sighed after she gazed into his eyes a little longer before she took her chin from his grip and walked the rest of the way to her door. But she stopped, and Bucky was still there watching her go. "And what about you, James?" She quietly asked. His chest was swarmed with warmth; because of anxiety about the morning or the concern dripping from her eyes, he didn't know. She brought her eyes to his again, "Who will protect you? Will you come back to me, James?" Her voice cracked. It broke his heart to see how petrified she was to see both of them go in the morning. "I promise I'll make it back to you, and with Steve right next to me." She clenched her jaw. "You better, James Buchanan Barnes. You better." She grabbed the door, but hesitated again. He didn't have much time to react other than to draw in a quick breath as she descended the stairs and pressed her lips to his gently. He felt the tremble in hers. Faster than it started, she pulled away... It was a shame he didn't have time to pull her closer. "You make sure you keep that promise. Good night, Bucky." She whispered before she scrambled into her apartment with red cheeks. He stood on those wet steps, staring at where Y/n was, until the cold of the damp night began to shiver in through his sleeves. He'd prayed several times since that night that it wasn't the last time he'd see her beautiful eyes or feel those soft lips - even though she'd chew on them when she was nervous or stressed, he noticed - and carried her picture in his pocket during every battle. He'd come to terms with forgetting everything else about Brooklyn, but not her. He'd forget the sound of dance music, or the echo of music from a cars radio as it passed by, and even the taste of seasoned food... But not Y/n. Her eyes were locked in his mind forever, until they scrambled his memories and finally took her away from him after twenty years.

He let out a sob that was dangerously close to a scream. His friend, the one he only just reunited with, was trembling; it's so out of his character that even Tony zips his mouth shut. Steve clenches his jaw, still trying to comprehend what's standing before him. Y/n should be older now. With white hair and laugh lines, grandchildren dancing around her, apple pies steaming on her counter. But still with those vibrant green eyes, still waiting for them to come home with a smile on her lips. So why are her eyes so dull? Why is her skin wrinkle free, her pink lips in a frown, hair dirty but still deep with color. Why is there a gun in her hand? Why is it pointed at Steve's chest? On her uniform - black and tight on her strong body - burned a symbol that made Bucky want to vomit... "Y/n..." Steve whines, not thinking -maybe even not strong enough - to raise his shield to her; his little sister would never hurt him. Falcon has to step between the blonde and the storm of bullets Y/n’s letting loose from her gun. One set of blue eyes fall vacant, and the other venomous with rage; Steve has lost his final comfort of believing that at least his little sister had a chance, and Bucky can't stop asking himself that same damn questions: How long was she tortured in the same building, in the same way as him? How many times did she cry for him? For Steve? How long did it take for her to break? If he were stronger... If he fought back, could he have saved her? It rattled him to the core that she had endured such horrors, and all of it done just under his nose. Bucky blocks a small punch from the small girl - discovering her to be considerably strong - and searches to catch her eyes. He shamelessly lets his lip contort as he watches those vacant eyes, searching his in confusion; will he ever be able to get her eyes back to the one's he loves?