#ibwhellospringday12

[ciarawritesmarvel]

the grand old oak tree - bucky x reader

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 3.8k

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

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

Prompt: childhood memories

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

 ---

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

“Asleep?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

You and Bucky shared a look.

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

“Would one more story help, Gracie?”

A nod.

“Which one would you like?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The voice was hushed, but still very much audible.

“...765, 766, 767…”

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

You decided to take a chance.

“Hello!”

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

“Up here!”

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

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

“What are you counting?”

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

“Steps.”

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

“What for?”

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

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

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

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

“What about me?”

“Why are you up a tree?”

You scoffed, because it was obvious. Of course.

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

“No.”

“Never wanted to climb this tree?”

He paused.

“Well-”

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

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

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

“Worth it?”

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

“Yeah. Worth it.”

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

“After that fateful Sunday, the little girl-”

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

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

Summer had suddenly become slightly more interesting.

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

But now, he had you.

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

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

“Cloudgazing?”

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

“About what?”

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

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

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

“Yeah, I know but-”

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

“Yeah, I know but-”

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

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

It was his turn to interrupt her.

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

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

“Then let’s be best friends.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You decided to change the script.

“That’s never good.”

“No. It isn’t.”

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

“What’s going on?”

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

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

“You’re my best friend.”

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

“Let me finish.”

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

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

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

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

“-what’s your thing?”

You perked up at his question and grinned at him.

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

He didn’t hear the rest.

And he didn’t show the next weekend.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The voice was hushed, but still very much audible.

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

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

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

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

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

You decided to take a chance.

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

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

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

“You never finished the story.”

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

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

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

“You’re insatiable, Bucky.”

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

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

“They lived happily ever after.”

[beckzorz]

It’s ridiculous, really. Ostentatious. Bronze, with an epic pose. More abs than humanly possible, shield hefted high.

Steve would’ve rolled his eyes. He’d probably groan out loud. It’s an unnecessary addition to Prospect Park, that’s for sure.

Bucky just rolls his eyes. No need to call attention to himself.

You, on the other hand, are gazing up at the statue of Captain America with a thoughtful expression.

“It seems kinda silly that they’ve got a statue of Steve and not you.”

Bucky snorts. “Not really. He was always the public face of things. I did the dirty work.”

“Well…” You scratch your head. “I mean, the stories and museum and stuff set you two up as a unit.”

“I think it’s just the alliteration,” he says. His lips twitch as a crease forms between your eyes. “‘Bucky Barnes’ is a great sidekick name.”

“Bucky.”

You glare at him. It’s cute how defensive you are. He tweaks your nose before you can bat his hand away.

“Trust me,” he says, grinning, “I don’t feel the least bit bothered. You think I want people staring at my ugly mug when they’re trying to enjoy a walk in the park?”

“Oh, fair point. I don’t think I could stand having to look at that face of your in two places at once. Gross.”

“You know you love it.”

You stick your tongue out at him. Bucky just laughs. He reaches up to tweak your nose again, but you duck away. He settles for wrapping an arm around your shoulders instead. You snuggle into his side and let him steer you back to the lake to look at the turtles.

“Did you come here a lot?” you ask.

“Nah, not that often. Well, sometimes.” Bucky grinned. “I remember when the zoo opened, Ma took us. Never’d been to a zoo before. Saw all sorts of crazy stuff. My sister damn near fainted when a seal barked at her.”

You giggle. “Bet you laughed at that.”

“Sure did.”

Bucky glances down at you, smiling softly at the swell of your happy cheeks. It’s nice. Here, with you, sunshine dappled through the trees and your arm snaked around his waist.

It’s nice.

Written for @itsbuckysworld‘s Hello Spring writing challenge. Prompt: childhood memories. Hope you enjoyed! Let me know what you think xoxo

[itsbuckysworld]

HELLO SPRING: DAY 12

Pairing: Bucky x reader basically. Category: College-ish!AU Warnings: SO FLUFFY!  Word Count: 1.6K Guest Appearance: mentions of Steeef and Nat, a lot of made up names.

Summary: Y/N will never forget her first kiss and her first crush. Specially not now. 

THIS IS Y/N’S POV OF THE PROMPT FOR DAY 9 FIRST KISS

Day 12: Childhood Memories , for my Spring Short Story Writing Event

 Y/N had been there since very early, fidgeting with her hair over and over again in front of Stephanie Johnson’s mirror, and deciding to apply some of her glittery makeup just because. The party wasn’t even close to starting, neither was she the host or the one getting in trouble for throwing a party when her parents were out, but she felt nervous. Over the summer Steve Rogers had gotten hella cute, but to be completely honest, Y/N always thought Bucky Barnes was the cute one of the pair. And tonight, they would be there.

At least she hoped. Stephanie had invited Steve, and Steve never went anywhere without Bucky. Maybe she would try talking to him. She didn’t have a plan, it was not like her 12 year old brain could plot more than “run casually into him and start a conversation” which was definitely all her plan consisted of – truth be told it would be easier to talk to him in Chemistry or Math, but for whatever reason she never had the courage to give him more than a small wave and a warm smile.

Ugh, stupid Bucky Barnes. Why did he have to stick to the walls all night long? So far she tried twice to run into him, and both times proved incredibly difficult given the young boy stuck to corners and spaces far away from the crowd. Plus Stephanie’s house was too big, if she had a smaller living room then maybe people would be closer to each other, making it super natural to bump into people, but right now? It was impossible.

Eleanor Torres had started a game of Seven Minutes in Heaven, and even though there was probably a one in a million chance that Bucky even joined the game, let alone be the one to kiss her, Y/N added as casually as she could, that maybe they should extend an invitation to Bucky who looked close to a fish out of water the more time passed.

Her hands were sweaty as the first few rounds went, and when Aaron Carter and Leonard McGuire got paired to go in the closet together, Y/N was too busy trying to avoid staring at Bucky to even care. Before she even knew it, it was his turn, and Gina, Y/N’s best friend at the time, pinched her arm, knowing full well that her friend had a minor – actually more like medium, edging on the brink of major – crush on the dark haired boy with sparkly eyes. It was maybe too much for her to wish it’d land on her, but she hoped. As long as it didn’t land on snobby Christina Watson, she’d take about anything.

The bottle slowed to a stop, the shiny cap dead center on Y/N and she fought the butterflies and blush threatening to spill over. When he remained there, almost frozen on the spot, she tried her best not to think it was because he didn’t want to do this with her, so she got up, deciding to cut the awkward tension off and offered Bucky a hand, before leading the two of them into the closet.

He turned on the light, and there was laughter on the other side of the door as the lock clicked in place. The seven minutes started now, and Y/N would need more than an hour to figure out where to even start.

“Hi. I-I’m Bucky” he said adorably and she couldn’t help the giggle that followed, giving him a handshake like strangers meeting for the first time.

“I know. I’m Y/N” she followed along. Maybe this would make things more at ease? Less stuffy? Whatever. Except the silence reigned for around 2 minutes, but it’s not like Y/N was counting.

Except she was because if there was something she knew was that she wouldn’t mind one bit if Bucky Barnes was her first kiss. In fact…

“A-are you… Do you want to kiss me?” the words blurted out before she could stop them, but after having them out there, she decided maybe it was better. Unless he said no and then she would never live down the embarrassment, Oh god what had she done, why did she blurt that out like that- her rambling was stopped by the sight of Bucky slowly nodding his head. She gave him a tender smile, one filled with relief, and well, she had started it, so it made sense she leaned in first, pursing her lips and closing her eyes, waiting for Bucky to perform the next move. Your turn Barnes.

And he delivered, the warmth of his body felt closer and closer until finally, slightly rough inexperienced lips touched tender inexperienced lips. Soft, shy, goosebump inducing, the tensing of the chest. It was all things she could never describe, but everything that felt good.

He pulled away first, and she found it normal. Kisses had to end.

“I’m sorry” came out like a train from his lips, lips she now knew. “I’ve… I’ve never… Uh” his stutters were cute.

“Me too” she said, feeling the warmth take over her face, admitting he was her first kiss wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, in fact she was glad to know they both shared this, in a whole new level. Wherever life took her Bucky Barnes would always be her first kiss, and she would be his.

Kisses had to end to restart again, right? Separating was easy, not because she didn’t enjoy the kiss, despite not knowing what she should have been enjoying in the first place, but because she wanted to gain her breath and press another kiss to his lips, this time maybe a little differently, less childish, with hands ghosting his arms before retracting in fear that was not where they were supposed to go, now busy playing with the hem of her shirt, and his fingers slowly touched hers before retreating as well, but the chills remained.

Timid and inexperienced kisses were shared. Maybe they didn’t learn anything from it, but it was nice, as nice as a shy first kiss in a closet could get. Their last moments together in the confines of the closet filled with bashful pecks characteristic of their age. And then for good measure, something different just to see what it would feel like, as she opened her mouth a little more, inviting him to do so, and she understood why grown ups did it. It caused even more chills.

She could only stare at him when they separated for the last time, processing everything but unsure of what to say. The door was opened on the seven minute mark, and the party-goers found them standing there, and she was sure she was so red there was no need to kiss and tell on a girl’s sleepover that weekend, she was sure everyone knew, but she didn’t care. Her friends scooped her away before she could even formulate a sentence, express her gratitude, did you even thank people for kissing you? She didn’t know, but she felt as if she owed Bucky something, anything, for sharing so much with her. For making a memory that would last for eternity.

 ・‥…━━━━━━━ o ━━━━━━━…‥・

She does a double take when her brain thinks she’s spotted something unusual. Like she wasn’t expecting it to rain outside and suddenly there’s thunder, that’s how encountering Bucky Barnes 7 years later feels like. She’s rushing into the kitchen of the frathouse where he’s stood, stuck in place much like the first party she ever saw him in way back when, he looks almost exactly the same, except he’s oh so different. Different yet still familiar.

“Bucky?” the words feel foreign in a way, maybe she was making a mistake, but his face told her otherwise “Bucky Barnes?”

“Oh, god” he says before there’s laughter shared between the two of them and Y/N finds herself wrapped in his arms. The arms of the Bucky Barnes, her first kiss and first crush. Could have been her first boyfriend too but Chris Beck had asked and then she had moved and she hadn’t heard about either since. “Y/N, it’s been… wow”

“So long! You go to MIT too?” it was the only logical explanation, a clear magical coincidence

“Yeah, you go here?” his disbelieving eyes – still oh so blue and sparkly and filled with emotion – were fixed on her.

“I do! Art and design” she presented “sophomore year”

“Civil Engineering major” there’s a short scoff from him “sophomore year!” And there it was, the confirmation that he was so close all along.

“What? Oh my god! It’s so nice to see you! You look great” His slight bear suited him so well, and the new hair? The black semi translucent shirt with little daisies dotted all over, and that top button undone, wow that must be a crime to look so– she stopped her thoughts, worried she would become too flustered.

“You too!” there’s a blush taking over her cheeks at the way he takes her in from head to toe.

“Steve is here too?” She looks around, the two of them worked like a packaged deal, maybe he wasn’t far away and she would be able to calm the butterflies in her tummy that were slowly coming back alive if Steve was there too, it would feel more casual and not at all like she was imagining him there because she wanted it so badly.

“He’s…–” Bucky looks around, Y/N takes the moment to really take him in. Bad choice, more butterflies– “around, lost him long ago” he shrugs and before you can say anything else, there’s a hard tug on your shirt, with a quick glance you see Nat beckoning you over, right, the two of you were on your way to find Nat’s boyfriend and his friends for something or other. Y/N is quick to announce that she’ll be right over, deeming more important to make sure Bucky isn’t gone forever once more.

Her heart races as she begins her goodbye. “Hey, tell him I said hi, and, here” her phone is quickly on her hand, initiating the motions to add a new number “We have to meet and catch up” 

Bucky Bucky Bucky was the only thing on her mind right now, and she would love to see him again and again and again. Definitely because he was an old friend that brought with his sole presence a sense of being at home, and not because suddenly she was warm, even more so when his fingers brushed hers in the phone exchange. Definitely not because she found him really really handsome.

“Definitely” He says with a grin, and she loses the battle against her common sense, finds herself pressing a loud kiss to his cheek as a goodbye and disappearing into the party, before she can catch a single ounce of rejection on his face.

Fuck, seven years. Seven years and she finds herself falling for his cute face and adorable personality all over again. Seven years but he feels just the same in her heart.

  ・‥…━━━━━━━ o ━━━━━━━…‥・

feedback is greatly appreciated and encouraged!!

THE OTHER END OF THE REENCOUNTER?!?!?!? CHECK! I told you he was her first kiss too! And she’s definitely not crushing on him pshhh no, it’s been seven years, there’s no way… right? ;)

[absentmindeduniverse]

This is so sweet and the take on how to tell the memory is so awesome. You know it's bittersweet for him but it just stays sweet because of Reader. And I love that 😊.

It’s ridiculous, really. Ostentatious. Bronze, with an epic pose. More abs than humanly possible, shield hefted high.

Steve would’ve rolled his eyes. He’d probably groan out loud. It’s an unnecessary addition to Prospect Park, that’s for sure.

Bucky just rolls his eyes. No need to call attention to himself.

You, on the other hand, are gazing up at the statue of Captain America with a thoughtful expression.

“It seems kinda silly that they’ve got a statue of Steve and not you.”

Bucky snorts. “Not really. He was always the public face of things. I did the dirty work.”

“Well…” You scratch your head. “I mean, the stories and museum and stuff set you two up as a unit.”

“I think it’s just the alliteration,” he says. His lips twitch as a crease forms between your eyes. “‘Bucky Barnes’ is a great sidekick name.”

“Bucky.”

You glare at him. It’s cute how defensive you are. He tweaks your nose before you can bat his hand away.

“Trust me,” he says, grinning, “I don’t feel the least bit bothered. You think I want people staring at my ugly mug when they’re trying to enjoy a walk in the park?”

“Oh, fair point. I don’t think I could stand having to look at that face of your in two places at once. Gross.”

“You know you love it.”

You stick your tongue out at him. Bucky just laughs. He reaches up to tweak your nose again, but you duck away. He settles for wrapping an arm around your shoulders instead. You snuggle into his side and let him steer you back to the lake to look at the turtles.

“Did you come here a lot?” you ask.

“Nah, not that often. Well, sometimes.” Bucky grinned. “I remember when the zoo opened, Ma took us. Never’d been to a zoo before. Saw all sorts of crazy stuff. My sister damn near fainted when a seal barked at her.”

You giggle. “Bet you laughed at that.”

“Sure did.”

Bucky glances down at you, smiling softly at the swell of your happy cheeks. It’s nice. Here, with you, sunshine dappled through the trees and your arm snaked around his waist.

It’s nice.

Written for @itsbuckysworld‘s Hello Spring writing challenge. Prompt: childhood memories. Hope you enjoyed! Let me know what you think xoxo