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itsbuckysworld · 5 years ago

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Yoga 101 | pt.1

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!reader Guest Appearance: Natasha World: AU.

Warnings: fluffy, mentions of smut in the form of thinking too much about how sexy bucky is, language.

Summary: Yoga would be the perfect activity for relaxing and just letting your mind go blank, if the yoga instructor wasn’t so fucking nice and so damn hot.

A/N: written for the #omnomwritingchallenge1.1k. My word choice was yoga, so I present to you, Yoga with Bucky. AND THIS IS SO LATE IM SO SORRY @omnomsauruswrites

Smooches! xoxo L

REQUESTS ARE CLOSED until i get back in the groove of writing and finish at least half the things I’ve planned to write.

Huge huge huge thanks to @delicatelyherdreams, @caitfairwrites and @sunmoonandbucky. Through the almost a month that took me to write this, they helped me with typos, cheering me on and assuring me this was worth writing. I will forever be so grateful to them, and they are now stuck with me loving them too much so whoops. Gifs not mine

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You stepped out of your car with your brand new yoga mat rolled nicely under your arm, and looked at the text on your phone and then at the building in front of you. This was the place. You groaned slightly.

Your friend Natasha had suggested – well, more like forced you – to sign up for a yoga class. You’d argued right back that you didn’t need it and that there was no use signing up for one when you could probably download an app and do the stretches at home just fine, but she was not having it. You remember her stern stare and calm voice telling you that you definitely needed it, and could benefit from it, and something about how you just had to believe her. Plus “yoga at home isn’t the same as yoga in a class”. It wasn’t even the same commitment, and before you could protest anymore, not that she’d back off if you did have something to say back, she had pulled up the page for a yoga place that had great classes and teachers, saying she had tried it herself.

A yoga class was the last place you wanted to be today. Your day hadn’t been the best and you were still on the fence about the whole thing despite knowing deep down you needed something to help you destress. Your job was growing more and more stressful as the days went by, and your limbs ached in the mornings because you had so much pent up tension keeping you from a restful night’s sleep. On top of that, you didn’t have time anymore to fit in any other type of exercise to keep yourself active and it was starting to bother you. Even if you weren’t on top of fitness and gym trends, you liked to try and keep your body active, it was part of a healthy life and right now, your life was just work, work, work; stress, stress, stress.

So you frowned as you looked at the time slots, the classes and what not, and before Natasha had gone home from your place that night, you had signed up, quickly so as not to retract, and decided to make space for the supposedly never intrusive, always helpful – as Nat had put it – activity.

You found the room you were supposed to be in and set up at a perfect distance from the front – not too close you’d be all up next to the teacher like an eager student, and not too far that you’d miss out on what the teacher explained – and sat quietly as the room filled in.

You placed your hands on your thighs as you kneeled and exhaled, eyes closed.

You wish you hadn’t as the ruckus eased around you and next time you did glance around, there was a man setting up at the front, clearly the teacher.

To be clear, you didn’t care that the instructor was a man. What you were absolutely freaking out about – battling to remain completely calm on the outside – was that the instructor was a Greek god of a man.

“Good day class. How’s everyone doing?” All the ladies and the one other guy in the room greeted him back, but not you. Your brain didn’t know what words were anymore.

He invited the class to sit on their mats in a relaxed position, and you quietly took him in. The chiseled jaw, the lean muscles – God bless that tank top he was wearing. His hair was pushed back somewhat messily to a small bun, some strands hugging the back of his neck and a soft beard. For a moment you were so captivated by how good he looked that you stumbled from your seated position to what he called next a moment too late. He was so gorgeous you hadn’t even noticed or cared for the shining metal arm – if anything that dark metal with gold accents really suited him – but you definitely didn’t look at it. Not when he did warrior pose and showed his back muscles.

Delicious.

“And breathe deeply,” he said, his voice resonating around the room.

Breathe? Oh, right! You were supposed to breathe, and focus on the class and relax. You shook your head, doing the best you could to maintain your balance as you copied his moves and changed poses.

For the most part, you thought yoga would be simple. A couple of nice stretches and breathing exercises to clear your head and give you peace of mind – and really pop your back because, God, was your office chair a torture device. On paper it sounded delightful, but this? The truth was it was absolute torture and more than a little embarrassing.

You struggled through every pose, noticing how minimal the looks from the rest of the class towards the teacher were. The Adonis of a man would call something like Half Moon to the left to warm up, and no one would bat an eye, switching their bodies to extend an arm and a leg in the air, somehow keeping perfect balance, and yet there you were, doing the pose too late, focusing on copying the person next to you to get it right and fighting for your life to not fall flat on your face, the leg that was planted on the ground shaking with stress.

And you’d expect to move to Half Moon on the right, right? But he would transition over to whatever King Dancer on the left was, and there you were back at zero trying to figure out what the hell was happening.

You lost your footing more than once. Tried – and failed – your best to discreetly shuffle your yoga mat even further from people, because, you know, yoga mats are supposed to not slip.

You could feel your face burning red hot, not only from the physical activity that was rushing to be up to speed with these yoga freaks and fighting “Lady Gravity” for the most part of an hour, but from failing miserably at even the relaxed poses in front of everyone, specially when you locked eyes with the instructor and his lips curved into a smile, watching you struggle with the extended side angle, clearly laughing at your excuse of a yoga pose. God, why did he have to be so cute? You think you would be a little less flustered had he been a woman or anyone other than every hot movie star melted together watching you fail miserably.

Yet you couldn’t keep your eyes off him. His voice was gruff and soothing, strong and tender. He would remind everyone to breathe and you found it hard to, because he gave you chills. The way he exhaled along with some words, making your mind wander. He walked around the class at some point, observing people’s forms, correcting positions and giving tips. You were absolutely sure you’re going to have wild dreams just based on how warm his hand was when he touched your elbow, indicating you to extend your arm properly while doing Balancing Table, his voice fading away as you kept impure thoughts at bay.

As the class did final stretches he kept his eyes on you, that smile of his still there, and you could see it mocking you. You could hear it in the way there was a bit of a laugh at the beginning of his sentences, and you puffed out your cheeks with a frown. He was cute but he was an ass for laughing at you. He moved to extend a leg almost to his forehead, hands grabbing his foot and eyebrows raised at you, before talking to the whole class.

“Let’s extend into Heron, right leg up” and without hesitation everyone did so, the same pose he was showing you before.

Oh wait, was he teaching you what was coming next? It was a relatively easy pose – had it not been for the position of your other leg – and for the last few minutes of the class, he kept transitioning into poses before calling them out, looking straight at you and giving you a small smile when you did your best to copy them. Okay, a little less of an ass now, still very cute. Damn.

The room started to clear out after a few moments in Corpse – a pose you knew well – and you took your time reincorporating afterwards, too comfy to move. Then you arched your back that somehow still felt impossibly sore – weren’t you here to release that tension? Where was that desired pop? – before you stood to pack up your things.

“Hi there”

You recognised the voice behind you, the one you had been hearing it for the past 40 minutes, giving directions and huskily delivering material for you to think about on lonely nights. Another shake of your head put you in the right mindset to face him.

“Hi!” your response was a little excited, but you didn’t have energy to feel embarrassed anymore. “Sorry,” you said, and the man shook his head, chuckling slightly.

“You’ve never done yoga before, then?”

“That obvious?” He laughed out loud this time, but you knew he wasn’t laughing at you.

“What gave it away, my terrible balance or my deer caught in headlights face at everything you said?”

“I think it was more the fact that you only knew Corpse.”

You were in trouble. He was even more good looking up close. From the distance you had been at during the class, you could only see defined muscle. From arms length, he was so much more. Smooth skin. Long dark lashes that made ocean blue eyes pop like none other you had ever seen. A killer smile that made the cutest crinkles appear by his eyes, and his laugh was gorgeous. All in all, it wasn’t fair. Whatever flaw he had better come up really quick.

“I don’t really mind the stumbling, Lord knows I can’t keep Half Lotus Tree for long –” you gave him a pointed look and he clasped his hands in front of his chest – “you have no idea what that is. Right” The two of you chuckled as you danced on the balls of your feet, biting the inside of your cheek. He took a deep breath and continued, “Point is, you shouldn’t sign up for an advanced class if it’s your first time. Mainly because you could injure yourself.”

“Wait, advanced?” You blanked. “I mean, duh, of course it was advanced, but I signed up for beginner.” You fished inside your bag for your phone.

“I don’t teach any beginner classes. I don’t think we have any this time around.” He grimaced, an apologetic look painting his features.

“No, I definitely –”

Advanced Yoga, 6PM, room 505 – you read it when you pulled up the email, eyes running over the words over and over. Everything made sense now. You sigh and run a hand down your face.

“Okay that’s… great. My mistake. This whole thing was probably a mistake.” He made motion to say something but you put your hands up, waving them in front of you. “I should go. Sorry again for… that. Thanks for the class, I guess.” And with that you turned on your heel and walked away, wanting the earth to swallow you whole. Did you seriously just go in the wrong class, made a fool of yourself, and then thanked the guy for it?

It was decided. You’d call and try to get your money back, yoga was clearly a bad idea. You stepped outside and fumbled with your bag in search for your keys, huffing and puffing, blowing a strand of hair off your face. A hand is placed on your shoulder and they turn you around.

“Excuse me, miss?”

You look to find the yoga instructor again. Bucky, the email said. You had missed that too the first time reading through. If anything it’s nice to finally put a name to the face, anything to stop your brain from calling him a hunk of a man.

He’s fixing his bag on his shoulder and giving you a concerned look that warms you inside. For some reason it’s sweet almost, how he looks at you and gives you a side smile. There’s something about how welcoming his features are that you can’t quite place. “I know it’s none of my business but… please- uh, would you consider continuing yoga?”

You arch an eyebrow at him, and he takes his hand off your shoulder, taking a few steps back as he stammers through his sentence and waves his hands in front of him.

“I mean. It’s really good. I know I probably sound like the cliché yogi in movies, but… It helped me a lot, at the beginning I didn’t even want to try, but it helped so much that… That’s a story for another time I guess –” He chuckled then, scratching the back of his head with that metal hand of his and curiosity peaks inside you – “I just know, it’s a great outlet, or aid, to whatever your life is right now.”

He didn’t assume or act like he could read you, and didn’t try to sell you that you’re clearly stressed – maybe so much that people can see it from down the street – and yoga is the magical ointment that takes it all away. He’s not trying to convince you to stay because he gets paid or because he just wants more people in his class. The way he looks at you and speaks to you, he’s really sharing something that helped him for the sake of it.

You sigh.

“I don’t know. I clearly can’t stay in an advanced class. Maybe I should just try again when there’s a beginner and...” You shrugged – “I don’t know”

He bites down on his bottom lip and it takes a lot from you to not look, to not let your mind wander.

“Are you free Wednesdays and Fridays?” His question snapped you out of your thoughts – so much for trying not to get them derailed – and he cleared his throat. “I teach an intermediate class those days. Same time. It’d be easier to show you the basic moves, and maybe you could come a little earlier and I could run you through them and… get you up to speed in a way?”

You gape at him for a few seconds, his scrunched up brows and soft features, almost resembling a puppy. You won’t admit it just yet but Bucky is selling you on this yoga thing too well. A nervous chuckle escapes your lips, and your fingers play with your card keys. Intermediate wasn’t beginner, there was no way, right? The universe must be saying something and you should be listening.

“Maybe yoga isn’t the thing for me, you know? Intermediate could still be too hard for me to–” There’s a car honking by the entrance that cuts your sentence short. Bucky motions the car to wait and he turns to look at you with understanding covering his face. And yet it’s like Bucky can read your hesitation, almost tipping over to say yes, and he has one last pitch to finish selling you on everything.

“I get it. But hey, look, if you want less commitment to start –” He opens his bag and pulls out a notepad and pen. He uses his knee to scribble something, and he’s handing you the ripped piece of paper with his metal arm, the other hand busy steadying his bag back on his shoulder – “There’s this free open air yoga group on Saturdays. 4PM. I join them most times, worth a shot.” The smile he gives you has your knees feeling like jelly – you would have gotten a great use of some jelly legs back in class to do any of those twists. A little late now, joints – with a little wave and a wink added to that dashing smile of his, he’s leaving you there on the lobby, staring at the piece of paper with the address and other details of this “zero commitment” group, scribbled in his neat handwriting. You sigh knowing very well you’re not going to be coming back to yoga.

»»————-　　————-««

Damn you, Bucky Barnes.

That’s all you’re thinking as you lock your car and enter the fated park on Saturday. Damn him for being so cute, and such a fierce advocate for stupid yoga.

Natasha has this gloating look on her face as she follows you. A proud, shit eating grin. She hasn’t stopped crowing that she sold you on yoga, that you were wrong, and she was right about you ending up loving it, so much so that you even mentioned a Saturday class – one she had to tag along for. She’s really feeling like she’s on a high horse right now, and who are you to knock her off? You could live with a little mocking. Besides, the last thing you wanted was for her to know the real reason you were coming to this yoga class was that damned Bucky Barnes. Although, the moment you find him, she’ll definitely smell it off you.

Damn you, Bucky Barnes.

You didn’t want to even admit it to yourself, but after three days of looking at the stupid piece of paper, and having the time and place burned into memory, you couldn’t lie to your own face anymore; you were going to go to that stupid outside class.

As the two of you near the area where you see people set up mats on the grass, you’re not paying attention to Nat as she talks about whatever. You’re too busy trying to spot Mr. Too-Hot-For-Words in the distance.

Jesus, why are you so desperate to see him? Oh, right, he was cute and nice to you, that’s why.

When you do spot him, there’s a sudden urge, a tingle all over your body, to turn back around and go home, hide under your covers and down a pint of ice cream. Abort. There’s no way you can do a yoga class with him around! Not only are you a beginner, but you have learned in just one instance that you can’t focus when he’s there to look at. This was a horrible idea.

But just your luck, he spots you as well and your eyes meet. His beautiful, beautiful eyes. No turning back now. Damn him for looking so good in those gym shorts and fitted sports wear. Damn him for having his hair down, does he not know how he looks? Damn him for rushing to meet you, a wide grin drawn on his face, as if he’d been waiting for you.

“Hey,” he places a hand on your shoulder, “you came!” “I came.” You say shakily, cheeks feeling on fire, an awkward laugh catching in your throat and you hear Natasha immediately going silent. Not good, not good.

Bucky glances up and greets Nat with a firm handshake, introducing himself, and then returning his attention to you, with that teeth baring smile of his, crinkles by his eyes. There’s something wrong with your heart, it’s beating too fast.

He claps his hands together and clears his throat.

“I’m glad you could come. So this ‘class’–” he air quotes – “is very… What’s the word? Free?” another chuckle escapes his lips and the wind moves his hair, making him look like he’s in a commercial for something – his scent, definitely. He smells so good.

“You just join whatever little group you feel like and you all do a routine.” he waves his hand, motioning for you to follow him a little farther from the group, where his mat is placed. “I was thinking maybe you can be with me, and I can show you the basics, if that’s ok with you?”

You stutter, trying to find the words to say, and in a last attempt at some help, you turn towards Nat, hoping she’s read the situation and can help you out, but just like the little shit she can be, she’s just giving you a knowing smirk and not saying a single word.

“Sure,” you look back to Bucky. “Nat and I would love to” “Uh, actually…”

Okay, now you want to say something Natasha? She gives you a coy smile.

“I think I’m going to join that group over there, they seem more up to my speed.”

You glare at her. Of course Natasha, what a great friend, you’re basically screaming at her with your eyes and she’s just nonchalantly acting like she doesn’t know what she’s doing wrong. You begin to hate that she knows you too well, and that she’s so cheeky and mischievous you should have seen something like this coming. You should have not let her tag along for this damned class.

“You’re not new to yoga as well?” Bucky asks, genuinely interested, and Nat waves a hand in front of her face as if dismissing the idea. “Oh no, I used to go to the center, I was in a class with Ms. Potts last year.”

“Oh! Ms. Potts is so amazing!” Nat nods at him “In that case, yeah, that group would be more up your alley.”

“Cool.” In a simple skip she’s gone, leaving you with Bucky who looks straight out of a photoshoot.

Thankfully he didn’t read any of the looks shared between you and your best friend. That or he’s deciding to ignore them, which, bless him if he is; the last thing you need is any more embarrassment.

“Shall we begin?” There’s that forsaken smile again, like he doesn’t know it makes you lose the ability of speech whenever he flashes it at you. Like he doesn’t know he’s got to have lines of women fantasising about him while he does his poses. Like he doesn’t know your heartbeat is the same as whenever you jump on a treadmill and do cardio.

You’re giving yourself the pep-talk of a lifetime inside your head. You can do this, all you have to do is stay focused in the stretches and positions and, no matter what, do not embarrass yourself by letting your mind wander off to more… Bucky-related things, when you’ve literally been left alone with him under the wonderful shade of oak trees. Easy enough, right? He isn’t even that cute. You can do this, you got this. You so got this.

He grabs your mat from your hands and sets it up perpendicular to his, offering his hand to help you get down to the first seated position and making shivers run down your spine.

This is going to be impossible.

Damn you, Bucky Barnes. Damn you, Natasha.

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A/N: Hope you guys liked this! Part two will be coming tomorrow :) What did you think of yogi bucky?

Please any feedback is greatly appreciated, i was very doubtful of this piece.

Have a good day lovelies!

HERES MY ASK ||| Masterlist

xoxo, Little L.

#omnomwritingchallenge1.1k #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #fluff #yoga #yoga AU #this is so late i am so sorry #writing challenges i joined

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ofstarsandvibranium · 5 years ago

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By the Book: Part 1

Fandom: Marvel (Bookstore/Coffee Shop AU)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You love to get lost in the worlds created when you read. You go to this bookstore/coffee shop nearly every day. You come for the books, but after a new employee shows up, you find yourself more intrigued by him rather than words on a page.

A/N: This is for @caitfairwrites since she's one of the winners for my writing challenge. This will be a mini series of 3 parts, so no tagging. Sorry!

Books. What would you do without books? Books provided information, enlightenment, an escape. Books were your safe haven and anywhere that had books was where people could find you.

In the corner of your favorite bookstore slash cafe, sat you. Your nose buried in your current book of the week. The smell of paper and coffee wafted together in perfect harmony throughout the place. It was the smell of home to you.

“Y/N, your order’s up!” the barista and shop owner, Steve, called from the counter.

You slip your bookmark in and set your current read down, hopping off from the windowsill bench and towards the pick-up counter where your usual order waited for you.

“Thanks, Steve,” you cheerfully exclaimed, waving to your friend and walking carefully back to your windowsill.

You sipped your drink before setting it onto the table and picking up your book once more.

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Ever since Bucky got out of the army, he’s had trouble adjusting back to his civilian life. It didn’t help either that his new prosthetic from Stark Industries was causing him trouble. The gleaming titanium metal brought a lot of attention towards him, attention he didn’t like. It was like a magnet for trouble. That coupled with his PTSD, things weren’t looking good for him. And Bucky’s best friend, Steve, knew this.

More often than not, he offered Bucky help, referring him to the VA where his friend, Sam, worked, as well as offering him a job at his bookstore-coffeeshop. But Bucky was stubborn and he didn’t like getting help from anybody. But after three years, post-Army, he had enough.

The first step he took was going to the VA to seek counseling. This Sam guy was a piece of work, always calling him out on his shit and despite Bucky hating it, he knew that he needed it. He had to get out of the mindset that everything and everyone is out to get him, that he’s not a victim, that he can rise above this, even if it takes time. Yeah, time, no shit. Took him three years to finally admit he got PTSD, but what can you do?

“So, how’d job hunting?” Sam asked, leaning back in a metal, folding chair.

Bucky, hunched over with his elbows resting on his knees and his chestnut, shoulder length hair providing a curtain around his face, sighed, “Not good. My, uh, criminal record is an automatic rejection.”

“Criminal record from...”

“Assault. Twice. Both guys, they, uh,” he wiggled his silver appendages, “They were sayin’ shit about my arm and they wouldn’t quit. So to make ‘em stop-,”

“You had to beat them to a pulp?” Sam snorted, “Stupid, man.”

Bucky looked up, scowling at Bucky, “I asked them to stop, but they wouldn’t. What else was I supposed to do?”

“Bite your tongue and walk the other way, man. Guys like that wanna rile you up, don’t give them the satisfaction. Anyway, how long were you in for?”

He shrugged, “A couple weeks. Nothin’ bad.”

Sam nodded, “Steve owns a shop. Why don’t you work there?”

Bucky scoffed, “And do what? Making pretty lattes all day? That’s an insult to me, Wilson.”

He rolled his eyes and gave a defeated shrug, “I don’t know, Barnes, I mean, look, you keep getting turned down by all these jobs, but Steve? He won’t turn you down. You said it yourself that he offered you a job.”

“I don’t belong at a place like that. Not with the things that I’ve seen and done.”

“Steve’s there.”

“That’s because Steve is Steve.”

Sam sighed as he stood up, stuffing his hands into his pockets, “I’ll I’m saying is that you have an opportunity right there in front of you. Instead of being a picky little bitch, take it. No one said you have to work at the place until the day you die, just until you’re grounded and figure everything out. Yeah?”

He holds out his hand and Bucky hesitantly takes it, rising to his feet, “Fine.”

Sam smirks at him as he shakes Bucky’s hand, “Good, now get out. I have a group session in five minutes.”

Bucky then shuffles out of the room and towards the exit. Eventually, he’s back out on the busy streets of New York, “Guess I’ll go see, Steve.” with his jacket zipped up, hood over his head, and hands in his pockets, Bucky walks down a path to a new chapter in his life.

#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #marvel #au #bookstore au #coffee shop au #lanis2ndmysteriouswritingchallenge

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invisibleanonymousmonsters · 6 years ago

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i saw u said u read a lot of fanfic and now i'm curious, any favorite authors/fics u recall? if i trust anyone with recs, it's u!! (if u draw a blank on this don't worry ab it, i know how to find ur masterlist for all the greats :)

If you search fic rec on my tumblr, you’ll find all of my recommendations and what I’m reading.

However, these are all the writers I am obsessed with:

@star-spangled-man-with-a-plan

@captain-ariel-barnes

@wonderlandmind4

@caitfairwrites

@kentuckybarnes

@writing-parker

@moonbeambucky

@sebbys-girl

@softlybarnes

@jurassicbarnes

@sunmoonandbucky

@sarahwroteathing

Honestly, I am so, so bad at remembering people on tumblr because it’s a username and people change them all the time. And when people change their icons or layout, I’m doomed because that’s how I recognize people. So, I’m sure I forgot people. And I’m so, so sorry for that.

#writers i love #fic rec #writer recommendation #writer rec

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shreddedparchment · 6 years ago

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Man and Wife Pt.09b

Hot Fans

04/23/2019

Pairing: Bucky x Reader Word Count: 570

Masterpost Warnings: language

A/N: For @marvelszarrier who wondered what Bucky was thinking.

“Hot?”

Bucky looks the girls over as they fawn over their pictures, clustered in a small group as they take longing glances at him. He sees it now, what he’d seen once in Penny’s eyes and failed to understand.

He tries to see them as you do. They do have nice bodies. He can acknowledge that. They’re a little on the younger side. Probably late teens or very early twenties. Bodies are always nice at that age. Even the largest girl of the group has an ample booty that he finds nice to look at but other than the aesthetics, there isn’t much to see or appreciate. Bodies change.

Why do their curving figures matter so much to you?

Not one of their bodies curves like yours does. Not one of their voices makes his heart ache and sing all at once, the way yours does. Everything had been wrong about Penny--the way she’d felt beneath him, in front of him, around him--and everything is wrong about those girls because they aren’t you.

Why can’t you see how perfect you are? Why can’t he make you see how much he loves you? How much your body, and your body alone, speaks to him?

If it’s about the sex...no one’s body turns him on like yours. Your pregnancy glow is seriously fucking sexy. However there’s the other stuff about your body, the things you had before you were pregnant.

The subtle sway of your hips, the way you bite your lip, that intoxicating thing you do where you trace your lower lip with your finger when you’re deep in thought...it would be weird to try and have his way with you right now, wouldn’t it? Never mind all the trust he lost by betraying you. God, he misses the way your moans sounded sinful and magic.

It’s not like he doesn’t appreciate other figures but yours fits so perfectly in the cage of his arms. It settles against him--or it did before he fucked everything up--like it had been made for that specific reason. So that you’d find him, fall in love with him, and give him the privilege of holding you close.

It’s your heart that he wants beating in time with his, pressed firmly against his chest, your soft breasts smooshed tantalizingly against his pecs. And now with the baby...there is no one more beautiful than you in this universe.

As he looks back at you, he can see the terrible consequence of his tryst. He hurt you. More than that. He made you doubt your self worth and more specifically the worth you hold for him. You are everything. The crown jewel of women and damn him for fucking this up for you and for himself.

He must show you. He must prove it somehow. First things first. He’ll need to start somewhere, right?

“Okay.” He looks down at your sweet face and resists the urge to caress your cheeks.

“Okay?” You ask him, your eyes uncertain and full of that wretched doubt.

“Okay.” Bucky nods, assuring you that he means what he’s saying. He’ll make you see it. He has to. He must. Because he can’t go his whole life knowing that you’re wondering whether he truly loves you or if he prefers the company of other women. It’s only you. It will only ever be you. “No more pictures with fans. Female fans.”

He sees the brilliance of relief in your eyes and knows that he’s doing the right thing. Nothing else matters. Just you.

Forever Tag List @until-theend-oftheline @jessieray98 @dsakita @coldfacedwarf @just-trying-to-survive-marvel @fairislesheets @jewelofwinter @mannls @moonlessnight14 @sovereignoblivious @pandazlazykid @lilulo-12 @moli1497 @shifutheshihtzu @the-real-mary-jane @pastelxvirgo @just4muggles @vulpecula-minor @wildefire @mdgrdians @tiffanynguyen03 @shield-agent78 @i-cant-shine-without-darkness @the-wayward-robot @babytrollgirl @alagalaska @sincerelytlh @theonelittleone @sea040561 @xrosegoldwolfx @peppermintvanillaa @awkwardfangirl2014 @crist1216 @xxloki81xx @idk-random-fan-girl @romimiux @badassbaker @this-side-of-midnight5 @booklover2929 @natura1phenomenon @xlittlestarling @whosmarisaaarw @hiddles-rose @supernaturaldean67 @literallymoonshine @sebbystanlover-vk @pineapplebooboo @quokkatrash

Man and Wife @ria132love @slender--spirit @booktease21 @just-a-littlebit-of-everything @netflixa @caitfairwrites @brownlee-22 @ilysebstan @igotkatiepowers @jamielea81 @whom-the-fack @backflip-into-a-garbage-can @chuuulip @mizzzpink @nerdygirlwithacrush @chipilerendi @rainbowkisses31 @ben-c-group-therapy @lydklein1 @jamierdr @kenna-dance14

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chuuulip · 6 years ago

Text

My attempt on writing

Avengers Steve Rogers

Make My Wish Come True 💋 💄for @thatfanficstuff Chapter 1 // Chapter 2 // Chapter 3

Where You Belong 💋 💄for @jtargaryen18 Chapter 1 // Chapter 2 // Chapter 3

Light Me Up 💋 for @this-kitten-is-smitten

Vampire Steve Rogers

In My Veins for @prunes-said-bucky

Steve Rogers AU (Arranged Marriage)

Home for @stargazingfangirl18 @navybrat817 @caplanbuckybarnes @spaceodditybarnes @startrekkingaroundasgard @the-ce-horniest-book-club

Comfort for @spaceodditybarnes @the-ce-horniest-book-club @londonspidey @caplanbuckybarnes @stargazingfangirl18 @donutloverxo

The Red Sea Diving Ari Levinson

Ace of Cups 💋 for @ prunes-said-bucky

Avengers Bucky Barnes

The Lady & The Butler for @littledarlinhavefaithinme

Between Afternoon Tea for @thorfanficwriter

Could you not almost get us killed this time for @shield-agent78

All Good Boys Go To Heaven 💋 for @suz-123 Suz 1.5k challenge

By The Pool 💋 for HBC friday drunk drabble @the-ss-horniest-book-club

CEO Bucky Barnes

Inexorable Heat 💋 for @ruckystarnes

Here For A Ride 💋 Part 1 // Part 2 for @the-ss-horniest-book-club

Gale Of White 💋 for @moonbeambucky Chapter 1 // Chapter 2

Never Too Far for @marvelgirl7

I Want A Bunny In Your Oven 💋 for @buckysforeverprincess

Lawyer Bucky Barnes (Daddy Bucky and Kitten)

A Room With A View 💋 for HBC Daddy Monday @theeastiseverywhere

A Room With A View - Bathroom 💋 for HBC Daddy Monday @the-ss-horniest-book-club

A Room With A View - Skiing Ground 💋 for @beckzorz HBC Secret Seba

Musician Bucky Barnes

Favorite Record for @kentuckybarnes Hannah's 3k writing challenge chapter 1 // Chapter 2 // Chapter 3

Lance Tucker

Shaving The Gold 💋 for HBC Drunk Drabble @the-ss-horniest-book-club

Blinded By The Gold 💋 for HBC Drunk Drabble @the-ss-horniest-book-club

Charles Blackwood

Yes Please! 💋 for HBC Drunk Drabble @caitfairwrites @the-ss-horniest-book-club

Yes Please - It’s Time For Dessert 💋 I think this is also for HBC Drunk Drabble @the-ss-horniest-book-club

Chase Collins

The Fool HBC Choose Your Own Seb Character @theeastiseverywhere

TJ Hammond

Three Of Swords for HBC Drunk Drabble @the-ss-horniest-book-club

Four Of Swords for @littledarlinhavefaithinme on HBC Drunk drabble

Chris Beck

Worshiping A Star 💋 for HBC Drunk Drabble @the-ss-horniest-book-club

Brock Rumlow

A Kiss From A Rose To The Grey 💋 for @shield-agent78

Hidden Portfolio 💋 for @cametobuyplums

Hannibal Lecter

Aria - The Opening for @venusdemonroe

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beckzorz · 6 years ago

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12, 23, and 49? 💜

Thanks so much love!!! xoxo

12) Who is your favourite character to write for? Why?

Bucky Barnes, obviously XD

23) Do you prefer listening to music when you’re writing or do you need silence?

It depends? If I have a song or playlist or genre that goes well with the story I’m working on, that is really handy... but if I need to work through dialogue, I tend to do so out loud, and music is a bit distracting for that.

49) Can you remember the first fic you read? What was it about?

Nope! It was a Harry Potter fic in like 2002 or something, so I don’t even remember which characters it focused on hahaha. Maybe the Marauders? I do love book 3 >>

Fanfic Writer Asks

#caitfairwrites

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itsbuckysworld · 5 years ago

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Yoga 101 | pt 2

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!reader Guest Appearance: Natasha World: AU.

Warnings: fluffy, mentions of smut in the form of thinking too much about how sexy bucky is, language.

Summary: Yoga would be the perfect activity for relaxing and just letting your mind go blank, if the yoga instructor wasn’t so fucking nice and so damn hot.

A/N: written for the #omnomwritingchallenge1.1k. My word choice was yoga, so I present to you, Yoga with Bucky, part two. @omnomsauruswrites

Smooches! xoxo L

REQUESTS ARE CLOSED

-------------------

PART ONE HERE

a recap:

Your best friend Natasha leaves you, to fend for yourself and try to survive an open air, one-on-one class with Bucky, the hot yogi you’re crushing hard on, that you met by pure mistake in your search for a stress relieving activity.

»»————-　　-————««

Your hands are trembling when Bucky walks you back to your car. Natasha is nowhere to be seen and you don’t know if that’s good or bad.

He taught you the basic movements, keeping it simple yet entertaining. This time around you did feel a bit more relaxed after the session. There was a lot of learning involved and a lot of long sighs when a stretch felt like it was doing its job, even at a beginner level. Bucky would grin at you every time, making your cheeks feel warmer and warmer, not only from the afternoon sun, but because he was Bucky, and that was enough to have you hot and bothered to begin with.

Bucky made jokes here and there, as if it wasn’t hard enough for you to focus on the task at hand. Each time he switched positions, he had to run a hand through his hair and you’d be lying if it didn’t make you feel some type of way – horny, that’s the type of way – but you had to give yourself a medal for keeping it cool despite the long looks he’d throw at you and the husky voice he would speak in when giving you directions.

As you neared your car, you were a little sad the afternoon was coming to an end. As hard as it was to make sense of the english language when he was around, you wanted to spend more time with him. He was funny, kind, nice, gentle, and hot. Honestly a dream come true. A man like that doesn’t come by easily. But another little detail the afternoon had brought to your attention was exactly that. A man like that didn’t stay single for long; there was no way he didn’t have someone waiting for him back home – you could only hope you were wrong to think that.

“Well, I hope to see you again soon” his cheerful tone snapped you out of your thoughts and you spied Natasha leaning against your car as you approached. Her all knowing grin was still there, perfect teeth and silently mocking, as usual.

“Uh, yeah, maybe. I feel a little better now, thanks for today.”

“I’m glad you do. And I’m here to help, anytime.” the warmth in his eyes was almost as unbearable as the summer sun: too bright, too consuming, too much to handle. You’re thanking the universe that you are close enough to your car to get support, because once more, this man has turned your legs to jelly with a single phrase.

“Hmm, fun session?” Nat interjected, her tone filled with mischief and playfulness, the smirk now twisting upwards and you could smell trouble. “Say, Bucky, We’re going for coffee now, would you like to join us?” She throws her arm around your shoulders very casually, her perfectly manicured nails tapping at your arm while you fisted her shirt on her back, trying to get her to stop.

Did you want to spend more time with Bucky? Sure. Did you want it to be with Natasha around playing mind games? Hell to the no. As much as you loved her and knew her glances and smirks seemed harmless – to Bucky at least – you knew her looks are a double edged sword, and you wouldn’t survive getting coffee with both of them. Not when Bucky is a little sweaty and looking very, very good; and Natasha has some sort of unknown plan she’s dying to set in motion, that you don’t want any part of.

To your relief Bucky is quick to chuckle and shake his head, excusing himself.

“That sounds wonderful, but I have some business to attend to.”

“Oh well –” Nat’s dismissal is cheeky, you know her too well –“some other time” There’s another pinch to her side, a warning to stop right now, and you give Bucky a tight-lipped smile. “Some other time” He nods and waves goodbye “Hope to see you Wednesday, Y/N?” he says as he begins walking away, still facing the two of you.

“We’ll see,” you tell him back jokingly, and he rolls his eyes at you in mock annoyance.

“Don’t make me beg, please.” he laughs and shoots you a wink, before finally turning around and being on his way.

Your brain is stuck processing what just happened. Between the one on one time with him, the friendly banter, Natasha and her schemes and that wink. Specially the wink. How come someone looks so hot when winking? Damn this man.

You’re too busy replaying that in your head – and saving it to daydream about during your break at work – to hear the beginning of Natasha’s teasing. She’s holding you by your shoulders at arms length before you know it.

“I never understood the concept of hot yoga, but I think I do now.” You shrug off her hands and open your car door, getting all your things inside and sitting on the driver’s side. Nat is quick to run around and hop in, eager to continue messing with you, you assume.

“Shut up.”

“No way! Here I was thinking I had sold you on yoga when in reality Mr. Amazing-Ass was the one to rope you in – oh, wait, you’d like that”

“Oh my god!” You bury your face in your hands at her words. She’s unbelievable. Note to self, never tell Natasha about any fantasies, ever again. “That’s not it!” “Psh, you’re going to tell me you’re not considering yoga anymore?” You remain silent. “You’re seriously going to pretend you’re not going to class on Wednesday to see his fine ass?” She clicks her tongue and her eyebrows arch in that ‘you can’t fool me’ way of hers, her nails tapping over the console, annoying the hell out of you – not the nails, but the fact that she knows she’s right.

“Ugh, whatever,” you mutter, setting the car into drive and pulling out of the parking space and into the not so busy roads.

“Ok then. I’ll let Scott know you’re not making it to his dinner on Wednesday”

You open your mouth to protest, to bite back, anything… But who are you kidding? You’re going to that class.

»»————-　　————-««

You were resting in Corpse as the last few minutes of Wednesday’s class went by. It had been three full weeks of coming to Bucky’s intermediate classes and Saturdays at the park and your progress was incredible. Not only were you learning poses by their name, you felt more relaxed, well rested and flexible – back ache be gone!

Natasha tagged along for a second Saturday, the teasing strong as ever, but she’d thankfully skipped last time. You hoped it would stay that way, there was only so much you could take of her cunning tone. Good thing you didn’t have to deal with her sassy grin at the center on Wednesdays and Fridays. No, those were the days you got Bucky all to yourself… And another 9 people.

But for a moment before class, at Bucky’s request, you and him would go over poses and your progress, so yeah, you did get him a little bit to yourself here and there, and it was both joy and sorrow.

Time with Bucky was great, he just kept adding to the “reasons this man is amazing” list you had started in your head, with his jokes, and his kindness, and, his warm, inviting smile. All of those things were also incredibly hard to ignore, thus making you crush on him harder, which lead to you always stuttering in his presence. Seeing him so much meant more chances to embarrass yourself. A tricky feat for sure.

The class finished up, people filtering out of the room and spilling out into the lobby feeling refreshed. Any other day and you would have waited for Bucky a little longer – discreetly though, always discreetly – but today there were… Some distractions.

He had let his hair down again, oh what you’d give to hold on to it, and his beard was a little trimmed, making him appear stronger if that was even possible, and he’d decided to wear a tank top, showcasing his arms; tempting, mouthwatering, lean muscle. Neither of those could be good for your blood pressure, or your way too imaginative mind.

Besides yoga poses and breathing exercises, you’d also learned, these past weeks, how to shift your focus from Bucky’s body to something else, but just like with your Camel Pose, you still had to practice more to get it perfect.

Thunder and rain greeted you when you walked outside and stood at the entrance. People opening umbrellas and skipping to their cars to get back to their daily activities. You could have sworn the weather app on your phone said sunny, so your umbrella was nowhere to be found, no matter how many times you rummaged your bag in search of it. You groan, right as Bucky walks out and whistles, surprised at the rain. He’d put on a zip up jacket – thank heavens – no hoodie in sight, though.

“Jeez, my phone said it’d be sunny,” he stands there, hands on his hips as he takes in the environment. It’s not too violent of a storm, but definitely strong enough to know you’d be drenched before you made it to your car. A small laugh escapes your lips at his comment.

“Yeah, mine too. Liars.”

“Looks like it’ll be a while…” Bucky says, reaching a hand out of the cover under the entrance of the rec center, getting the tips of his metal fingers wet under the rain. He smiles at the sensation and you’re entranced by how ethereal he looks. The juxtaposition of his hard metal edges, and his soft flesh curves; his chiseled jaw, and tender looks; the authoritative husky voice, giving soft commands... Bucky Barnes was a living poem you wanted to devour.

A shake of your head to get rid of your thoughts, and you wrap your arms around yourself, as if trying to keep all of that in your chest, warning it not to go anywhere without your permission.

Bucky looks at you, and then past you, the smile on his face growing, the now familiar crinkles by his eyes making their grand appearance, and he lifts his chin, as if pointing. There’s a café in the plaza across the street, about half a block away.

“You mind getting a little wet?”

More than I am? You think, and are quick to scold yourself; this is not the time for such thoughts, Bucky just asked you to get coffee with him.

Wait, what? Bucky had asked you to join him for a coffee? You blink, drawing a complete blank. You should say something, and not just any thing. You should say yes. Why are you not speaking?

“Uh, it’s fine, sure,” you eventually spit out, praying the silence wasn’t awkward while your brain rebooted to answer his simple invitation. If he notices your nerves, he doesn’t mention it, instead he shakes his hand, ridding it of the rain droplets, and walks up to you.

Like two teenagers, giggling and hopping over puddles, you huddle under your bags – now makeshift rain covers – rushing to cross the street, and you’re very focused on not slipping and cracking your skull with how clumsy you can be.

No one gets injured in the venture, and you and Bucky enter the warmth of the quaint café, shaking droplets off your hair and shirts on the welcome mat. He bellies up to the counter when it’s your time to order, his hands busy putting his hair up in a bun, and then they rest on the marble, all veins and yet so delicate – you fight away memories from times he’s helped you into positions, his warm hands touching your arm to remind you to straighten or bend it. The coffee shop suddenly feels a little warmer.

He bites his lip as he studies the menu, your eyes running over his side profile. From the tip of his brow bone, down the curve of his nose and the dip of his lips, you follow a single raindrop as it disappears down its course over his cheek. When his azure orbs settle on you, meeting yours, you’re not so gently reminded that staring is creepy, and you should snap out of the trance he puts you in.

Orders are placed, you insist on splitting the bill, and Bucky laughs as he agrees and guides you to a booth. For a while now, all your one on one interactions happen with a heavy chant of a mantra: “focus on something other than Bucky”.

This time around, it’s different.

Sitting in front of him, at a café, really sends you for a loop. There’s no space for any distractions, all that’s left is focusing on Bucky, and with good reason, because before you know it he’s talking, asking about your day and getting to know you, and you’re surprised at how well you manage the nerves and bat away images of him in that tank top doing Crane – you’re going to categorise that as a crime. That man doing anything resembling that pose, is an actual felony.

The rain continues to fall outside, whenever you need a breather from looking at Bucky’s pretty face, you turn to see the cars whizz by, the droplets racing down the windows of the café, and then you stare at your hands, wrapped around a warm beverage, mimicking his hands.

You don’t know how long it’s been, but it’s after endless rounds of jokes and questions, two mugs of something warm for each, and a slice of pie, when you dare ask more about him. So far he’s been doing most of the asking, with you throwing the same question back at him or laughing at his stories. More specifically, you wanted to know how it all happened.

“So how did you end up here? Teaching yoga, loving it so much, tricking me into joining...”

He laughs at that last part, putting his hands up after he places his fork down, tongue poking out to collect crumbs of pie, and you’re almost spiraling. “Hey, no trickery.” There’s that soft smile of his again, his body leaning in, elbows anchoring over the table and he looks adorable with his cheek smushed against his palm when he rests it there. “Well, I guess I have to tell you about this guy,” his flesh hand points to the metal appendage. Black shiny hardware and delicate golden lines. “So, when I was around 20, I joined the army.”

Your eyes widen at the thought.

Bucky is so gentle, so soft and chill. He’s like that jock in college that, despite looking strong, you might find him with a butterfly perched on his index finger as he tells you he’s actually an english major who writes poetry before every game. Maybe that’s an exaggeration, but regardless of that, Bucky is just… Not the type you could see fighting a war, handling guns and having to witness or cause terrible bloodshed on the field.

“It was… Chilling. Wrong place, wrong time kind of thing. A moment of hesitation, and before I knew it… Well, long story short –” he coughs a bit and shifts in his seat – “I got sent back home with less limbs and more confusion than when I left.” He pauses, trying to find the right words, but instead he chuckles and shakes his head, licking his lips. You feel bad for even asking, and reach out an arm to stop him, tell him he doesn’t have to say anything else. His metal hand covers yours on his forearm.

“Bucky…”

“It’s fine, really. I was lucky. A friend of a friend knows the Tony Stark, got a sweet arm and, well… Yoga helped… a lot.” He smiles then, squeezing your hand before letting go. You can sense how the mood shifts, now more relaxed, his shoulders drop back down and his hand isn’t almost clenching into a fist. The smile on his face seems more genuinely happy, and now that you know what not-so-happy Bucky looks like, you can tell with certainty that happiness is your favourite look on him. “It helped me relax, it helped me re-learn my body, this black and gold intruder. I fell in love with it, with how good it could make me feel physically and mentally.”

“That’s why you want people to try it so badly?” he nods.

“I don’t mean to act like I know everything about you, but you looked tense,” he shrugged nonchalantly, “and if anything yoga sets out to do, is remove tension, so I just pushed, and I’m glad!” The two of you laugh at that, you finally let go of his forearm, but it’s not long before Bucky reaches out himself, to grab your hand again. There’s goosebumps raising all over your skin and his smile lets you know it’s all okay.

“I’m glad as well. I really like it, and I can’t lie… It’s helped me a lot.”

He shrugs casually. “Then my job has been done”

“Done? Are you breaking up with me?” You place a hand on your chest, faking offense and his head throws back in laughter at this.

“Never! There’s still a lot more for you to learn. You can’t leave until you can hold King Pigeon for 20 seconds.”

“Gee, I can barely do Table for 10, take it easy, soldier.”

He bursts into laughter again, and now the mood has truly changed.

»»————-　　————-««

You’re glad it keeps raining for another 30 minutes, and that they sell drinks other than coffee at the shop, because you and Bucky are ordering smoothies and chatting away until the sun is almost gone and the puddles on the road are the only proof that there was ever any rain.

Bucky walks you back to your car, still in the middle of a story about his best friend Steve and their college roommate Sam, the first time he saw Bucky with his prosthetic. Your belly aches, maybe because of the butterflies, maybe because of the long time spent in Plank back in class, maybe it hurts of laughter, from your afternoon with Bucky. Either way, it’s a pleasant little burn that you’re taking home with you to dream about, along with images of Bucky biting his lip, and having whipped cream from his coffee, on the tip of his nose.

It’s your turn to bite your lip, when you finally reach your car and it’s time to part ways. After a day like this, it almost hurts to say goodbye, but the day has been too perfect to complain.

“Hey, so… Got any plans Saturday?” He asks, leaning his body over the side of your car. It’s not the best moment to think about how he looks like a model, but the thought runs through your head at the speed of light, too fast to catch it before it makes a ruckus.

“Uh, not really–” you giggle, remembering – “Oh well, duh, yoga. At the park.” Bucky laughs along with you, a hand coming up to scratch the back of his head as he stares at his feet. It’s a little dark but you can see a faint tint of red cover his features.

“Well, yeah, I just…” he stumbles over his next words, and you don’t mind one bit. Seeing him a little flustered, when it’s always you scrambling to find words to say, it’s a nice change of pace, though you can’t imagine why he would be flustered. “I was thinking, maybe I can take you up on that offer for coffee after class next Saturday? Like your friend said? I just- uh… You know, j-just us?”

It’s suddenly hard to breathe. None of the techniques come to mind now, and the belly ache is definitely because of the butterflies, because they are wild right now. Out of the blue they have multiplied to thousands and thousands.

“Sure.” You’re 100% sure that your smile reaches from ear to ear and it makes it hard for you to pronounce the short word properly, but Bucky seems to have understood whatever you chirped, and there’s a smile of his, mirroring yours.

“Cool… Uhm, well, see you Friday?”

You nod eagerly. “See you Friday”

You had gotten used to a certain kind of proximity from Bucky. Either because of a pose you weren’t holding right, or had just learned and he was there supervising, or from moments like today, when you somewhat held hands over the table as you sipped your drinks. But none of that compared or could have prepared you for the close proximity that was Bucky leaning in to kiss your cheek. His warmth suddenly almost suffocating, his scent filling your nostrils, the slight stubble tickling you in the most delicious of ways, and the chills running up and down, and up and down your spine.

Soft pink lips, warm and tender, pressing a gentle peck to your cheek, the tip of his nose caressing your face – that’s a memory you want burned into your brain.

It’s over way too quickly, but you’ve registered every detail, and it costs you a lot not to hop on the balls of your feet right there and then. Bucky is waving you goodbye, walking over to his own car, parked on the other end of the lot and you fake cool as you open the door and slide inside.

You wait until the door is closed and allow your brain and your heart a few moments to process what just happened – not just this last bit, the entire afternoon – before you let out a scream, a kick, and a squeal, praying to the world Bucky didn’t see that.

In your thrashing about you almost miss his silhouette punching the air in celebration before he gets in his car as well.

All in all yoga had been a wonderful decision.

Fin.

»»————-　　————-««

Hope you guys liked this! Hnnngg isn’t yogi Bucky the absolute sweetest? You’re welcome to sound off about how you think their coffee date went, I wanna hear your ideas.

I want to hear what you thought of this in general! Please, pretty please, let me know, anything counts! Call me beep me if you wanna reach me.

Have a good day lovelies!

HERES MY ASK (please don’t be rude) ||| here’s my Masterlist

xoxo, L.

#yoga 101 #part 2 #bucky barnes x reader #yoga au #fluff #au #bucky barnes #my writing #little l masterlist #fanfic #Yoga

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