#ibwhellospringday11

[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]

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.

[captainamericasbeard]

Americano

Pairing: Bucky x Reader Word Count: 1.5k Category: Fluff Warnings: None

A/N: This is my entry for Day 11 of @ibwhellospring ‘s 31 day short story writing challenge. Today’s prompt was where should we meet?  I’ll put links for each day on my masterlist if you want to catch up.

Masterlist

Bucky had been coming into the small coffee shop you own for about 6 months. He’d been gruff and shy the first time but you quickly realized it was because he didn’t know what to order.

“Coffee just used to be coffee, ya know?” He asked shrugging.

“Not really? But I’m sure we can find you something.” You give him a once over taking in his appearance. Black boots, black jeans, white t-shirt, and a black leather jacket. Hair pulled back into a low bun and that hand glinting in the sunlight coming through the window behind him. He was easily the most attractive man you’d ever seen but no, you were focusing on coffee. “How about just a black drip coffee? No frills, nice and simple.” He nods and digs in his pockets, throwing a dime on the counter. You realize he’s paying for a ‘40s cup of coffee and you kick back the giggle that rises in your chest.

You grab a  medium white paper cup with your shop’s logo stamped onto it and turn to a carafe of steaming hot, dark roast coffee. You fill it to the top and leave no room for cream. You slide a lid on it and hand it over to Bucky who has watched your every move carefully.

“Try that,” you say. Bucky takes the cup, brushing your fingers with his cool metal ones. He takes a sip and pulls a face. “Not good?” You ask with a raised brow.

“No it's not that, it's good but it’s just not what I remember. I might not remember much but I do remember coffee,” he says with a smirk and a chuckle. You let out a giggle and Bucky watches you tap your chin thoughtfully before it dawns on you.

“I know exactly what you’re wanting,” you say confidently. You move over to the espresso machine and start grinding coffee into the basket, tamping it down and brushing the excess away with the tips of your fingers. Bucky watches you curiously as you fill a paper cup with hot water and move it under the drip of coffee thats starting to stream down in a beautiful golden colour. You stop the shot as it reaches the brim and slide the cup across the bar to Bucky. “Careful, thats going to be hot.” He blows on it gently before taking a sip and his whole demeanor changes. His eyes light up and his shoulders relax. A huge grin plasters itself across his face.

“Doll! How’d you know!?” You blush at the nickname and the joy you’ve managed to bring him.

“Its what they used to make for the soldiers overseas during the war. It's called an Americano.”

“That’s it, thats my drink.” He throws another dime on the counter and gives you another smile. “Thanks doll. I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

“I’ll be here,” you say, returning his smile. As he leaves you scribble a post-it note to your employees and stick it on the register- Bucky Barnes only pays .20 for his Americano. Veteran discount ;)

________________________

It goes on like that for months, Bucky comes in most days, gets a medium Americano, throws .20 on the counter, and leaves to go about his day. And slowly you get to know each other. He learns you’re the owner of the shop and you learn about his self-deprecating sense of humour. He brings Sam and Steve to meet you and to show Steve the Americano. Sam is rolling at the sight of these two 100 year olds rediscovering a piece of their younger days. You take an extra long break that day, letting Bucky and Steve regale you with old wartime stories. And bit by bit, you fall in love with Bucky Barnes.

You’re locking up the shop one day when you first realize it. You think back on Buck and Sam that day, Sam joking at Bucky’s expense and the look of resigned annoyance on the latter’s face. You giggle and smile at the thought and a warmth grows in your belly and spreads on your cheeks. It hits you like lightening. I’m in love with Bucky Barnes. Your stomach drops at the thought and the smile quickly fades from your face. There’s no way he’ll ever like me back, you decide.

Bucky and Sam leave the shop the next morning and Sam starts up on the same old line he’s been on since Bucky first brought him there. “Man, when are you gonna ask that girl out! I’m starting to think you want me to do it for you?” Sam says with his cocky grin. “Or maybe I should ask her for myself. A girl that beautiful ain’t gonna be on the market for long.”

Bucky shoots him a murder glare which Sam laughs off. “Yeah, she’s beautiful, she’s never gonna go for me, Sam.” Bucky passively flexes his metal hand.

“I’m telling you right now, if you don’t ask her out tomorrow I'm gonna do it for you. Or for me. Depends on how I'm feeling.” Sam’s cocky glance let’s Bucky know he’s not kidding around.

“Ok fine. Tomorrow.”

______________________

The next morning you see Bucky coming with Sam and get started on their order before they can reach for the doorknob. You’re full of butterflies but you’re determined to act normal. Bucky opens the door and when his eyes land on you his face blooms into a smile. Normal. Be normal.

“Morning Bucky!”  You say as you slide 2 paper cups across the counter and hold your hand out for his change. (He’s decided that Sam’s coffee also only costs .20) He seems taken aback at your efficiency but he puts the change in your hand and hands Sam’s cup to him without looking. Sam wanders off to chat up a pretty girl sitting by herself leaving you and Bucky to awkwardly shuffle your feet at each other.

“Are you-“

“What are you-“

You both start at the same time and then fall into an embarrassed silence. It's actually painful to watch, Sam decides as he glances over. Bucky gathers his breath and rubs the back of his neck nervously.

“Um, are you working all day?” he asks.

“Yeah, unfortunately til we close at 6.” You say with a sigh as you move you hair out of your face. You pick up a cloth and begin to nervously wipe down the bar, despite having just done so.

“Do you want to get dinner after you're done?” Bucky asks all in a rush and it takes you a moment to process what he said. Bucky starts to get nervous at your silence. His heart pounds in his chest anticipating your response and he’s sure you can hear it.

“Dinner? You want to go to dinner?” You ask, a shy smile starting to creep across your features, you have to make sure you heard him properly.

“I wanna take you to dinner, Doll.” Bucky stands up straighter and looks you right in the eyes. Your breath is gone but you manage an answer.

“Yes! I mean, yes please. I'd love that.” You’re now both grinning from ear to ear and look especially dopey. It’s adorable, Sam decides as he watches from the sidelines. He’s clued the girl he’s with in on what’s going on and they’re watching the drama unfold like a novella.

“Where should we meet? Should I pick you up here?” Bucky asks, getting nervous again. He shuffles his feet and tucks an errant lock of hair behind his ear. He’s the most adorable thing you’ve ever seen, you decide.

“Let me go home and change. Do you wanna meet at the Italian place that just opened up down the street?”

“Sounds perfect.” Bucky replies. The two of you finish making your arrangements and Bucky leaves the coffee shop, forgetting his coffee and Sam in his elation. Sam chases him out the door.

“So? How’d it go?” He asks with a grin on his face.

“Yeah, I guess I’ve gotta date.” Bucky’s heart swells as Sam pats him on the back and he thinks about seeing you later that day. He realizes he’s forgotten his coffee and rushes back towards the shop just as you're following him out with his cup. You hand him the cup with a blush and he decides right there that with your messy bun and coffee stained apron, you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. He swoops down and lands his soft lips on your cheek in a chaste kiss. “See you soon, Darlin’.”

[itsbuckysworld]

HELLO SPRING DAY 11

Pairing: none but implied bucky x reader in a future maybe. Category: Modern AU. Warnings: rushed, maybe some bad words. bad writing.  Word Count: 1.7K Guest Appearance: Wanda, mentions of Sam and Steef Rawgers

Summary: You get no christmas shopping done, not when your day is suddenly consumed by Bucky Barnes after bumping into him randomly.

Day 11: Where should we meet? for my Spring Short Story Writing Event

“Where should we meet?” you asked your mother taking a sip of your iced drink. The five women stood at the entrance of the mall with their game faces on. It was Christmas shopping time and this was your plan of action year after year.

Every time, when December 15th rolled around, you, your mother, your aunt, your mom’s best friend who you lovingly called aunt, and her daughter - your best friend Wanda, attacked the season’s shoppings in one afternoon together. Except you almost never spent it together.

The plan was simple. Rendezvous at x point at x time, try to avoid running into each other or looking into bags or carts in risk of spotting your own christmas present and ruining the surprise and get at least the bigger bulk of christmas shopping over with. Should you not find something specific you could always come back, but this? This part of the shopping was tradition.

“Right there, in front of that Pretzel stand” Wanda’s mom pointed. Almost out of a spy movie the five of you looked at your watches, making sure they were if at least not in sync, close in time. “4pm on the dot ladies. 5 at the latest” and with that you dispersed.

Wanda decided to tackle her parents gifts first, they would take her the most time. Gifting you or her brother Pietro always came easy-peasy. In fact she had already ordered something for you off amazon, and was going to top it off with a gift-card to your favourite coffee shop. Instead of avoiding her mom on the men’s section of a clothing store, she joined forces to pick something for her dad.

On the other hand, your mom tended to begin with gifts for you, wanting to get the easy out of the way. She knew her daughter well.

Your aunt focused on her kids first as well. Your cousin was going into labour any moment now – not really, it was still a month to go – and that made gifting so much easier: just get the baby something.

You found yourself walking through the food court, trying to pass the time. You had spotted the stores you wanted to check out for very specific gifts and they were packed. Definitely waiting a few minutes until the craziness died down was the way to go. It didn’t matter how planned you and the other women in your life were, you always encountered dozens and dozens of people crowding the mall in December, no matter the date. At least earlier on the month it wasn’t as hectic. You had to come up with a last minute gift for Pietro two years ago when his Wanda told you that his then girlfriend had bought the thing you were thinking of. You did not want to repeat that. It still caused you nightmares.

Walking down a crowded hallway in front of a new accessories store, a body slammed into you, sending your iced drink tumbling down, fortunately not staining your shirt or the strangers. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry” they said, bending down to pick up the plastic cup, hands stretched out in an apologetic manner. You shook your hand rid of the droplets and started shaking your head to say it was no big deal when you were met with the stranger’s piercing blue eyes and chiseled jaw. “No… Uh, no biggie” “Y/N?” he said, his brows furrowing. “Yeah?” you looked confused, and a small grin started to form on his face. His eyes trailed over your features as if taking you in, and you did the same, trying to place him. The slight beard, the now somewhat familiar eyes and crinkles by them. “Oh!” you exclaimed “It’s me! James! Well…” “Bucky Barnes” you said amusedly, giving him a quick hug that he returned happily. “Wow, you… how are you?” you refrained from saying he looked different. Even though different didn’t mean worse, not at all.

The Bucky you remembered was skinnier, clothes hanging off his back almost sagging, clean shaven, and his hair was short. This Bucky? Fuck, this Bucky was strong, with a manly beard and longer hair almost past his ears, perfectly swooped backwards. Different was good, so so good.

“I’m sorry for your drink” his face scrunched up, deeply apologetic, you would think he accidentally let your dog out and it got lost, not that he’d just accidentally made you drop your drink. “Really, it’s no biggie” “Please, let me buy you another, and maybe we can chat for a bit? Catch up?” and it was really not a big deal, you were halfway done with it either way and it was icing your hand, but with that smile he gave you, how were you supposed to say no?

・‥…━━━━━━━ o ━━━━━━━…‥・

Wanda’s foot was tapping incessantly as she sat by the bench directly behind the pretzel stand, half eaten pretzel she didn’t even want to buy in the first place, in her hand. She glanced at the watch on her wrist one last time. It was 4:30. Where the fuck were you? She looked back to your mom, who looked just as annoyed, and somewhat concerned as well, with the long wait, and without question, Wanda picked up her phone and dialed your number, your mother doing the same short after when you didn’t pick up your best friend’s first call.

・‥…━━━━━━━ o ━━━━━━━…‥・

“No way!” you laughed out loud, throwing your head back and covering your face with the napkin you were using. Bucky sat in front of you, leaned into the table and resting on his crossed arms over it, trying to keep a smile at bay. “I can’t believe you and Steve did that. Gosh you’re still the same dorks as way back then” your laughter died down and you resumed your position, also hunched a bit over the small table outside a café in the food court, leaning on your hand, elbow anchoring the arm on the small wooden plank of a table. 

Your eyes looked into Bucky’s shiny ones, waiting for more of the story he was telling, and your free hand reached over for your almost empty glass of water, taking the last sips through the straw as Bucky only nodded. “What can I say? We like a good challenge” “Ok, but next time, do something a bit more… I don’t know… Modest?” “Oh, so running through central park half naked isn’t modest?” he joked causing you to burst out laughing again. He really liked that sound, his satisfied smirk was enough to tell.

Still coming down from the giggling fit, you reached into your bag, looking for your long forgotten phone that you felt buzzing a second ago. With a swift glance at it your breathing hitched and your heart dropped. Was that the time? “Shit!” you said, unlocking the device and opening your chat with Wanda where you had about a dozen texts. “Everything ok?” Bucky asked, concern painting his features, but he leaned back, not wanting to accidentally look at your texts or make you feel like he was invading your privacy, yet he stayed close enough that he could be there should you need him. “I was supposed to meet up with everyone almost an hour ago!” you picked up all your stuff in a hurry and stood up, shooting a quick text to Wanda that you were on your way and so sorry for making them wait, followed by Bucky who wasn’t sure what to do, but he understood.

You had mentioned when the two of you sat down at the table with small sandwiches and drinks that you were on a Christmas Shopping spree with your mom and Wanda and everyone else, yet the meeting time was so far away, neither of you worried much after, immediately jumping into ‘how have you been’s and ‘remember this person? well…’ “Time totally flew by, I’m so sorry! I have to go” “That’s ok. I get it” “Oh god and I didn’t even do any Christmas shopping” this caused you to laugh incredulously and Bucky joined in, scratching at his beard. “Neither did I” “I’m sorry!” you facepalmed, now guilty that you had kept him from his day’s plans. “Eh, I don’t really mind. I had a great time –” his smirk made you blush like mad – “Better time than I would have had trying to spot a gift for Steve’s new boyfriend” he rolled his eyes jokingly causing you to giggle. He had mentioned that Steve was so in love with Sam, this guy he’d met a few years ago. They were happy, and Sam wasn’t that bad, but Bucky and him had a more… Bicker-y relationship. It was all out of love, Sam was the best boyfriend Steve has ever had, and Bucky couldn’t be happier for them. “When I tell Steve I ran into you, he’ll understand” “It was so nice to see you again.” “Ditto. Hey maybe we can uh, come back, do actual christmas shopping?” “Together?” his eyes almost bulged out of his head. “I-I mean, just an idea, y-you don’t uh, you don’t have to if–” “I’d love to.” his face split into a grin, hand scratching at the back of his neck shyly. “Meet you here tomorrow? Say 10 am?” you pressed a quick peck to his cheek in form of goodbye, and he reciprocated, making shivers run down your spine at the warmth that his hand on your shoulder provided. “I’ll be here” “You better” you winked at him before rushing away to meet your family that greeted you with concerned looks and a chorus of ‘where were you’s and ‘did you not buy anything’ to which you just responded with a shrug, saying nothing had caught your eye and that you’d be back tomorrow to try and spot something different.

It was half true, nothing caught your eye besides Bucky, it’s not your fault the man held your complete attention for over 4 hours. He was that charming. That wasn’t any different than back then. The promise of seeing him again translating to chills you couldn’t contain, your smile mirroring his as he texted Steve – who had dropped him several texts asking if he needed any help picking a gift for Sam and concern to Bucky not answering them – that no, no gift for Sam just yet, but he wouldn’t guess what happened.

feedback is greatly appreciated and encouraged!!

ok so far i’ve written three reencounters lmao, and there’s a couple more to go. Hope you enjoyed this, im sorry for the poor writing!

[amoonagedaydreamer]

Perfect.

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.

Keep reading

[awlizno]

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.

Keep reading