#marvelwritingchallenge

[nekoannie-chan]

Annie’s 1K Kitties Writing Challenge

Hi everyone! I’ve been on Tumblr since 2007, and finally, I reached 1K followers, so I wanna celebrate it with my second challenge hosted.

English and/or Spanish speakers can join, I wrote the guidelines in both languages (first in English, then in Spanish), and after the guidelines are the prompts you can choose. Please, read the guidelines carefully.

»»————-　♡　————-««

¡Hola! He estado en Tumblr desde 2007 y finalmente llegué a 1K de seguidores, por lo que quiero celebrándolo con mi segundo reto de escritura.

Personas que hablan español e/o inglés pueden participar, escribí las reglas en ambos idiomas (primero en inglés y luego en español) después de las reglas están las frases. Por favor, lee con cuidado las reglas.

English/Inglés

 This time the dynamic is different from the previous challenge. So read carefully the guidelines.

Here are the guidelines/rules:

 💜 You don’t have to follow me but I’d appreciate it.

💜 Please reblog this post.

💜 Send me an ask with the prompt and the character you choose.

💜 Please, no Real Person Fics and no social media AU.

💜 No underage characters, pedo, underage, bestiality, incest, A/B/O.

💜 One prompt per person (first come, first served). In case all were taken I have more to add. Prompts are below the cut.

💜 Min 500 words, no max but if it’s more than 4000 words make it a series, and please use ‘Read More’.

💜 Reader insert only.

💜 Must be posted on Tumblr.

     ⁎⁎If you also post it on AO3 and/or Wattpad and/or ffnet, let me know to add it to a collection, read it and comment it⁎⁎

💜 Drabbles, one-shots or series are fine, but can’t be part of previously published or existing series.

💜 If you write smut or dark fic, the writer must be +18.

💜 If you have any questions, don’t hesitate to ask me.

💜 In Author’s note put the prompt you chose, please.

💜 Tag all the warnings and triggers.

💜 If I don’t comment and reblog your fic in 48 hours, send me a message, sometimes dumblr doesn’t notify me, and I’ll add your entry to a masterlist.

💜 Deadline: March 18th, 2023.

💜 Tag me when you post it and use the tags #Annie’s 1K Kitties Writing Challenge.

💜 The steps are following:

Choose the character from the list (5 people per character)

Choose a prompt from option A (the dialogues are bold), or from option B or option C. ⁎One person per prompt⁎ 

⁎⁎If you choose a prompt from option B, I will answer your ask with a song (it maybe be in a language different from English) ⁎⁎

Español/Spanish

 Esta vez la dinámica es diferente respecto al reto anterior. Así que lee cuidadosamente las reglas.

Las reglas son las siguientes:

 💜 No tienes que seguirme, pero lo apreciaría.

💜 Por favor rebloguea esta entrada.

💜 Mándame una “pregunta” con el personaje y la frase que elegiste.

💜 No fics con personas reales o actores ni social media AU.

💜 No personajes menores de edad, pedo, menores de edad, bestiality, incesto A/B/O.

💜 Una frase por persona (quien primero llega, primero elije). Creo que hay suficiente, pero sino, aún tengo frases para agregar. Las frases están después del corte.

💜 Mínimo 500 palabras, no hay máximo, pero si es de más de 4000 palabras, hazla serie y por favor usa “Seguir Leyendo”

💜 Únicamente que sea por lectora o lector.

💜 Deberá de ser publicado en Tumblr.

      ⁎⁎Si lo publicas en AO3, Wattpar y/o ffnet, dime para poder agregarlo a una colección, leerlo y comentar.⁎⁎

💜 Drabbles, one-shots o series están bien, si es una serie, que sea el primer capítulo y etiquétame en todos los subsecuentes.

💜 Si se quiere hacer un Smut o dark fics, el escritor debe ser de +18.

💜 Si tienes alguna pregunta, no dudes en preguntarme.

💜 En la nota de autor pon la canción que elegiste.

💜 Etiqueta todas las advertencias.

💜 De preferencia escríbelo en inglés (o en ambos idiomas si gustas) para que más personas lo puedan disfrutar; si tienes algún problema con el idioma, puedo ayudarte aunque me tardaría un poco, ya que también estoy haciendo varias cosas en la vida real.

💜 Si no comento y reblogueo tu fic en 48 horas, mándame un mensaje, a veces dumblr no me notifica, tu fic será agregado a una masterlist.

💜 Fecha límite: 18 de marzo 2023.

💜 Cuando postees tu entrada etiquétame y usa las etiquetas #Annie’s 1K Kitties Writing Challenge.

💜 Los pasos a seguir son los siguientes:

 Elige a tu personaje (únicamente 5 personas por personaje):

Elige alguna frase de la opción A (las que están resaltadas, son diálogos) o de la opción B o de la opción C. ⁎Una persona por frase⁎

⁎⁎Si eliges una frase de la opción B, responderé a tu “pregunta” con una canción (puede estar en un idioma diferente al español).⁎⁎

Prompts and characters are below the cut!

Characters:

 ✬ Brock Rumlow (2/5)

✬ Ororo Munroe (0/5)

✬ Lorna Dane (1/5)

✬ Clarice Fong/Ferguson (0/5)

✬ Ana/Satana Helstrom (0/5)

✬ Logan Howlett (1/5)

✬ John Proudstar (0/5)

✬ Steve Rogers (5/5)

✬ Michael Morbius (1/5)

✬ Janet van Dyne  (0/5)

✬ Johnny Storm (0/5)

✬ Dottie Underwood (1/5)

✬ Sue Storm (0/5)

✬ Jack Rollins (1/5)

✬ Nico Minoru (0/5)

Option A:

 1.     “You can’t make me forget you.”

2.     “All right, don’t call me ‘sweetie’. You can’t hold a person prisoner and then call them ‘sweetie’!”

3.     “I’m not evil or anything.”

        “I’ve heard that one before.”

4.     “In case you didn’t get the memo. I’m not one of the good guys anymore.” @saiyanprincessswanie

5.     “Wrong things done for the right reasons still the wrong thing.”

6.     “Don’t worry. We had safe sex. A lot of safe sex.” @nana1000night

7.     “We kick evil’s ass every day.”

        “Sometimes twice a day.”

8.     “We may not be murderers, but we’re no angels either.” @azulatodoryuga​

9.     “Believe me, everything will be different now.” @unnuevosoltransformalarealidad

10.  “This whole family needs a shrink.”

11.  “Just because I protect the innocent doesn’t mean I have to be innocent all of the time.” @sweeterthanthis​

12.  “I have enough to do without worrying about who you’re torturing in the attic!”

13.  “Everything happens for a reason, remember, you told me that.” @there-goes-thefighter

14.  “Have you gone crazy again?”

15.  “Don’t worry. We’ll be safe here.”

       “Don’t say that. In horror movies, the people that say that are always the next to die.”

16.  “This is crazy. You can’t leave like this.”

17.  “Is there something that we don’t know… that we should know… you know?”

18.  “Innocents and alleys, don’t they ever learn?”

19.  “We sure did miss a lot when we were dead.”

20.  “We could sure use some cosmic help right about now.”

21.  “Yeah, well, rules are meant to be broken.”

       “Yeah, but bodies weren’t.”

       “And neither were hearts.” @galatially​

22.  “Silly Witches. Tricks are for kids.”

23.  “Don’t you think you’re being a little paranoid? “ @ghostofskywalker

24.  “Everyone’s treating me so differently. I’m still me. There’s just a whole lot more of me going on.” @delorita

25.  “Did you get my flowers?”

       “Yeah. ‘Sorry, I tried to strangle you’, probably not a card the florist gets to write every day.” @azulatodoryuga

Option B:

 1.     'Cause, I feel like I'm the worst, so, I always act like I'm the best.

2.     Six months passed and you said goodbye to me.

3.     I don't belong to anyone. I guess you could say that my life's a mess

4.     Your hands still shake if you hear me talk.

5.     Underneath it all, we’re just savages.

6.     Don't you hear me when I say I'm lonely?

7.     I would have the courage to walk up to you and ask you your name.

8.     You’ve stolen my innocence through all your shams

9.     Do not need a reason for you to return to me.

10.  That everything can happen to you and suddenly you’re very lonely.

11.  Love one another, live for each other.

12.  You’re the one that I need, I’m the one you loathe.

13.  I know that it's already late and I’m sorry our love ends.

14.  That's because I'm afraid of getting hurt. @azulatodoryuga​

15.  Somebody save me and answer my please.

16.  You never told me what it was that made you strong

17.  And I kept it for me.

18.  I’ve lost my dreams and my love, lashed by the rain.

19.  Your face is like a melody.

20.  And everything is perfect when I feel you.

21.  As every night I woke up thinking of you

22.  Why is it so painful to touch you?

23.  I’m breaking my heart.

24.  Save yourself and let them suffer.

25.  Am I no longer in your heart now?

Option C:

 1.     “I can't change what I've done, but I can start trying to be a better person today.”

2.     “Failure is not an option.”

3.     “It’s Halloween, I guess everyone entitled to one good scare.”

4.     “Whatever you do, don’t fall asleep.”

5.     “Because you liked my poem. Only I didn’t write it. Someone else did it.”

6.     “I can smell your filthy soul.” @talia-rumlow

7.     “It’s the water! Wherever you are, don’t drink the water.”

8.     “No, I’m the real thing.”

9.     “Can you imagine what happens to us after death? Be doubtful.”

10.  “Sometimes hatred can even give unbelievable power to people”

11.  “Only pain and suffering will make you realize who you are.”

12.  “I was born to breathe... But I wasn't breathing just because I was born.”

13.  “Why not kill? Everyone has their issues.” @fluffyprettykitty​

14.   “Delusion is a lie that tells a truth.”

15.  “There's something more to this place. Our cell phone don't work. Neither does the T.V. Or radio. We're isolated.”

16.  “This is a secret operation. No one should know, neither you.”

17.  “Oh, great. Valium. Not only will we be able to go to sleep, if we get attacked in the middle of the night, we won’t even care.”

18.  “I’ll see you soon.”

19.  "That woman deserves her revenge...And we deserve to die."

20.  “You know, I may have never liked you. Point of fact, I despise you. But that shouldn’t suggest I don’t respect you.”

21.  “Welcome to the witching hour.”

22.  “Okay, here's your motivation. You're lost, you're angry in the woods, and no one is here to help you.”

23.  “You're so much smaller than I remember.”

24.  “I ought to drag you out there and FEED you to those things!”

25.  “Live or die, make your choice.” @crushedbyhyperbole

[robertdowneyjjr]

memories turn into daydreams become a taboo

written for the random words, random characters challenge on @marvelwritingchallenge. character: tony stark; words: memory, complex, suffering.

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

Tony hasn’t been back here since the funeral. He hadn’t been able to bring himself to do so, back then, instead opting to stay at a hotel after the service so that he wouldn’t have to return to a cold and empty mansion that was no longer filled with the warmth of his mother’s laughter.

But now, after Siberia, after finding out the truth, Tony feels like it’s finally time --- if for nothing else, then closure.

He steps through the front doors and takes a deep breath. The air is stale, which isn’t surprising. Tony has a cleaning staff come through once a month to dust off all the furniture and air out the rooms, but otherwise there hasn’t been any signs of life in the place for over twenty years. Despite the sun shining bright through the windows, the house feels haunted. The floors need polishing. The curtains have yellowed. The flowers in the garden have long wilted and never bloomed again.

Tony takes his time touring through the mansion, slowly getting reacquainted with the place he grew up in. He visits every room, letting memory after memory wash over him in each one.

Not all of them are happy. He remembers falling and scraping his knee in the garden and running to Howard for help, only for him to tell Tony to get out of his sight. He can still see, clear as day, the tears in Jarvis’ eyes as he had to physically drag Tony from the foyer to the car when Tony screamed at him, crying at the top of his lungs about not wanting to go to boarding school. And he’ll never forget all the times he had curled up in bed, trying to tune out the world as his parents brought the house down with their explosive fights, arguing about Howard’s alcoholism and workaholism, arguing about Tony, and their frosty behavior towards each other that would last for days after every quarrel.

But he can still fondly recall brief moments of happiness that happened in this very house. Sunday mornings Tony spent with Ana and Jarvis in the kitchen, trying to help with mixing the pancake batter only to end up making a mess of things instead. The little blue box he kept hidden in the back of his closet filled with bits of circuitry and machinery that his mother would regularly snag for Tony from Howard’s lab. Bringing Rhodey back home the summer after their first year at MIT, introducing him to his mother and seeing her eyes light up at the sight of Tony finally making some friends.

No, Tony didn’t have the best childhood, with no peers his own age and an absent father, but there were still a handful of memories from his early life that he will cherish forever. His experiences made him the man he is today. Tony wouldn’t trade that for anything.

He’s been wandering around for almost two hours by the time he gets to the last room of the house. He had saved it for last, because he had known that he wouldn’t be able to stay in the mansion for much longer after seeing this room again. Maria Stark’s favorite area in the entire house. The place Tony last saw his parents alive and well, his mother singing her heart out. The music room.

Tears well up in Tony’s eyes the minute the door swings open. He quietly sniffles and blinks them away quickly before shuffling forward to take a seat in front of the piano.

Everyone knows that Tony is a gifted pianist. Howard used to make him play during parties hosted at the mansion, saying that if Tony insisted on such frivolous hobbies, he might as well put his skills to use entertaining Stark Industries’ investors. In the years following his parents’ death, Tony had never performed in front of anyone again, though he does make sure that each of his residences has a spot reserved for a grand piano. Guests are welcome to play when they are invited over, but Tony himself has always waved away requests for him to show off his talent, claiming to have stage fright, of all things. No one calls him out on his bullshit and he’ll always be grateful for that. Even when he’s alone, Tony only ever plays twice a year --- once on his mother’s birthday, and once on the anniversary of her death. And he rarely does so without a few drinks in his system first.

Today, he’s remarkably sober and it’s only June, but he figures exceptions can be made when it feels like life has turned completely upside down.

He flips the lid of the piano open and starts to gently peck out a C scale to warm up his fingers. He mindlessly runs his hands up and down the keys for a bit before shifting to the first strands of a complex tune that his mother had written and taught Tony for his eighth birthday.

As he plays, Tony closes his eyes and thinks back on what he knew about his mother. She was always poised, exuding elegance with every step that she took. She held her head up high but never looked down on anyone, never thought that she was too good or too important for other people. When she went out into the public, she always had a smile ready, though it rarely reached her eyes.

She wore her masks well --- something that Tony had learned from her early on. “Smile, mio bambino,” she always said. “The world can’t hurt you if you just keep smiling.”

Maria Stark was the strongest woman that Tony had ever known. She never let the world see her as anything but perfect, even through the silent suffering that came with being Howard Stark’s wife.

Tony finishes the final stanza of the song and takes a moment to stare down at the keys of the piano as the last note rings out across the room. His left hand is shaking and his breath gets caught in a gasp.

There are splashes of water on the keys. He hadn’t realized he’d started crying.

It takes a while for Tony to collect himself. His knees feel weak as he stands up from the bench, but he keeps his head held high as he walks out the door and into the hallway. Just like his mother would have done.

Taking one last look at the mansion before getting in his car, Tony realizes that he’s not ready to let go of this place yet, not when it’s filled with some of the best memories he has of his mother. But he also knows that the house can’t stay empty any longer. It doesn’t feel right, and his mother wouldn’t have wanted it to go to waste like this. The house needs some upgrades. A bit of renovation, new furniture. A new life.

The September Foundation is looking for a home. He’ll start from there.

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

also on ao3

[handsoffreindeergames-blog]

Hide and seek

My turn on the Random Words, Random Characters Challenge by @marvelwritingchallenge . My character was Hope van Dyne, my words arrogance, sand, heal. Warnings are tagged.

It wasn't that Hope was really empathetic.

She had learned a long time ago that it was best to lock her emotions into a cage and to just open it if it was desired or necessary. When it was needed, when she knew she could bear it. There had been too many missed birthdays and broken promises in her childhood to handle emotions like other people, whose lives had been carefree and had left nothing else to wish for.

She wasn't arrogant, although many people thought she was. Arrogant people thought they were better than anyone else. They thought the world owed them something. And in most cases, they had a terrible cost to pay for it. Arrogance was for beginners, she had experienced enough bad things without even showing the hint of this trait. She was perfectly capable of ruining her life without it. And although it was easier thinking the world owed her something, she knew better. Nothing on the planet was free, everything had consequences.

Right now, however, she could finally relax, show her feelings of joy.

She knew the cost of getting her mother back. it had been years of experimenting, of heartbreak and distance between her and her father. It had taken her innocent childhood, her optimism, but she didn't care anymore. Right now, at this moment, her mother was there, standing in front of her with a soft smile. The smile she had had when they had built sand castles in California. They had always fallen apart, every single time, and nevertheless, both of them had still worked on them, watched how the waves took it with them. A soothing memory for every time she had felt alone and isolated in boarding school.

"Look how you've grown." Her smile made up at least half of the things she had felt in the past thirty years. Hope couldn't take her eyes off her mum. She couldn't stop looking at her face, her steel blue eyes, her hint of a smile. Everything felt so real. It was real. Her mother was back. She didn't cry. Hope hadn't cried since she was ten years old. Instead, she pulled her mother into a hug, finally feeling her again. Whatever would happen now, it would be fine again. She was sure the world could turn upside down and she wouldn't care. Not in the least. She looked into the eyes of her father. The man she had held a grudge on for almost her entire life. A man that had finally found the love of his life again.

It hadn't been his fault that she had disappeared, Hope knew that now. Her mother was as stubborn as she was and given the choice, Hope would have gone to the quantum realm as well. Without the shadow of a doubt. Without hesitating. Van Dynes weren't people who were scared of consequences.

"You have changed as well." she smiled, when she heard the chuckle of her mother. She had forgotten how much she had loved her laugh at a child.

"I'm old." she replied, not the least of regret in them. More a nervous statement.

"You're beautiful." her father replied, kissing her forehead softly. "Just as beautiful as the first day I saw you."

They could all heal now. Maybe there would be some sort of normality now. Maybe her father would finally come to his inner peace. Maybe she could, too. Maybe her mother was the missing piece that could stick this family together again. The family that hadn't been one at all without her.

"You didn't lose any of your attractiveness either, you know." he mum smirked, almost coyly staring on the floor. "And you've finally learned how to iron!"

"Don't make yourself any illusions. I ironed it." Hope interrupted, suppressing a smile. "Giving dad an iron board equals giving a toddler a lighter. It's irresponsible."

"I've missed you two so much." she said, holding both of their hands. "From now on, we will be a family again. We will be alright."

"Most certainly." her father said. It was the first genuine smile she had seen for a long time and she was more than glad for it. Everything was perfect. Right now, nothing could destroy this moment. They were a family again. She had both of her parents again. Everything else was not important anymore.

But if Hope knew anything about life, then that such beautiful moments never lasted for long. The universe was a cruel and unemotional place where empathy was not only undesired but also dangerous. So when her mother frowned and her molecules slowly turned to dust, she said nothing. She didn't scream, she didn't cry. Everything she could do was stare at the dust that remained while her father was falling on his knees, sobbing and screaming her mother's name. She could only look at him, her eyes widened. She didn't know what happened. She had no idea if this was a side effect of the quantum realm but if it was, she was sure that they could cope. She and her dad had done it once, so why not twice?

She clung to this hope until a few seconds later her father started to dissolve himself too. He stared at his hands, frowning. "What is this? I don't under-" Ashes. Both of her parents. She didn't understand what just happened, she didn't understand how this was possible. Slowly, she dropped on her knees, looking at the floor, hoping someone would explain. She didn't care if it was Scott or the government or Tony Stark himself. She needed to know what was happening. She needed to know how to bring them both.

This was when she started to feel weird.

She knew something wasn't quite right, but she couldn't name it. Looking at the spot where her parents had stood only a minute ago, flirting with each other and wrapping their arms around each other. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, remembering the times she had played hide and seek with her mother. It was like she could hear her voice in her head.

"3... 2... 1... I am coming!"

[sologxlaxies]

When it Rains

Masterlist

Marvel Writing challenge: @nataliarxmanxva (formerly @buckyslion) vs. @pymparticlez 

Prompt: Singing in the Rain

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: 

Out of all the ways you’d imagined you’d get to spend quality time with Bucky Barnes, being trapped in a coffee shop with him was never one of them. “Well, If you insist on walking under the rain and getting hypothermia, at least let me get you another coffee first.”

Word count: 2529

Warnings: Slight humour, ALL THE FLUFF, one or two curse words

A/N: I’m so incredibly sorry for posting so late, but I had a little *accident* earlier today and just came back from the hospital… Still, hope you guys like it as much as i do! 

Have a great week!

The first time Bucky comes back after a mission, he locks himself up in the gym for hours.

It’s been two months since he was released from Wakanda, and even though they deemed him free of HYDRA’s mind control, he cant shake the feeling that something is going to go terribly wrong.

The fear, the paranoia, they accompany him throughout the mission, visible in the tense set of his shoulders and in his clenched jaw. They keep him permanently on edge so, when the mission is over and the quinjet finally lands on the Avenger’s compound, Bucky runs into the gym, and tires himself out until he’s exhausted enough to get some sleep.

After the first few missions, he runs out of punching bags. Most of them completely destroyed or covered in patches where his hand tore through, but the need to shake of the stress is still there. An itch going through his spine and spreading all through his body that he can’t seem to relieve.

The moment Steve suggests to go for a jog, Bucky snorts and shakes his head in disbelief. He’s sure he’ll get recognized or, even worse, that he’ll lose control around people, but Steve manages to calm him down, reassuring his best friend that it will be fine.

A few weeks later, Bucky is running tirelessly through the city. His feet pounding over the sidewalks and his lungs on fire, the stress from his previous mission slowly ebbing away. He runs for what feels like hours, until he’s exhausted and panting, droplets of sweat rolling down his back and forehead.

And that, is how he finds the coffee shop.

It’s a small place, almost hidden between two apartment buildings, with a few potted plants scattered near the door and a tacky sticker on the window. The inside is warm, with a big sofa in one corner and plush chairs surrounding a coffee table, the big coffee machine on top of a bar stool right behind the counter.

It’s a strange place, the complete opposite of the vast and elegantly furnished coffee shops the team likes to visit, but the smell of roasted coffee and blueberry pancakes makes him feel at home.

There’s a nice girl at the counter too, with a permanent smile and strands of hair that always escape her ponytail, who always gets flustered whenever she takes his order.

Every time he orders a coffee, she’ll write an old movie title on his cup. Raging from Casablanca and Some Like it Hot to Great Expectations and Psycho, she writes them all down in the rim of his cup. Little black scribbles written in messy handwriting.

Bucky writes them all down in his journals, using every spare second he gets to watch them. He’s thankful for the familiarity of them, little details scattered all over each movie that remind him of his life in the 40’s, a bit closer to his own timeline than other movies he’s seen with the team.

After a while, he starts visiting more often. He finds himself frequenting the little coffee shop at the early hours of the morning, or late at night, not just when he’s stressed. He likes the smell of coffee that reminds him of his home in Brooklyn, and the soft sounds of music playing in the background. But most of all, Bucky likes the peaceful aura of the place; the calm that seems to envelop him whenever he sets a foot on the wooden floor and lets himself rest in one of the bean bags.

It’s solace, and he ends up finding it in the most unlikely of places.

You know who he is the second he steps through the door of the coffee shop.

Even despite the navy blue cap and worn leather glove, you still know who he is, shocked at the prospect of having none other than James Buchanan Barnes, former Winter Soldier walking into the coffee shop you work on.

He seems troubled, you notice, his posture evidently tense and his jaw firmly clenched, his back slumped. But as he approaches the counter, the man seems to change right before your eyes, his back slowly straightening with every breath and his jaw relaxing.

By the time he reaches the counter he seems like an entirely different person, and the second he takes off his cap you can´t seem to look away from his eyes, icy blue orbs framed by a few strands of dark hair.

“Hello, (Y/N)” he greets, your name slipping from his lips as if he were greeting an old friend, completely amazed before you remember you’re wearing your nametag. The slight huskiness of his tone makes you both swoon and startle, almost dropping the cup you were holding. “I would like some coffee please. Black, no sugar.”

You immediately rush into action, setting a clean cup under the machine and pushing buttons until it starts to whirr, signaling that the coffee is brewing. As you spare one small glance towards the man at the counter, you find him staring intently at the small television screen on one corner, where an old movie is playing.

His eyes are set on the scene playing before him, brows slightly furrowed and you can practically see the wheels turning in his head, so you decide to take a chance. If what they say about him is true, and he has lost most of his memories, as well as being kept frozen, he’s definitely missed this movie.

Taking a deep breath and praying that he is who you think he is, you take a black marker and scribble a few words on the rim of his coffee cup, right before handing it to him.

“Mary Poppins”

He comes back after a few days, the cap nowhere in sight, and this time, Vertigo is playing.

Bucky –you’ve figured out his name now- approaches the counter, his small smile making something flutter in your stomach. As he waits for his coffee, you write down the title of the movie and hand him his cup, nearly tripping at the sight of him brushing his hair back.

The man becomes your most frequent costumer, amongst the few who actually visit the coffee shop, always showing up at different times, usually covered in sweat and short of breath, which turns you into a stuttering, blabbering mess whenever he’s around. You try not to pay attention to hi, but it becomes harder for you to ignore the perfectly sculpted body beneath his sweat soaked shirts, especially when he’s always brushing his hair back or scratching the nape of his neck, which exposes a small silver of skin that both makes your eyes widen and your mouth to gape.

He’s amused by it, you can tell. And you notice how he starts getting more bold each time, wearing less and less clothing and casually leaning against the counter when he orders his coffee, shooting you a smile from time to time and smirking at the blush creeping on your cheeks.

It’s obvious from his behavior that he was a ladies’ man, back in the day, probably using his charms to woo the girls and get in their pants. Besides, Winter Soldier or not, he is definitely getting his confidence back, even showing up with his metal arm on display, metal glinting in the sunlight and a few droplets of sweat running down his face from the scorching weather outside. When he asks for a black coffee, again, you can’t believe he’s seriously drinking warm liquids in the middle of summer, so the title on his coffee cup ends up being unintentionally fitting for the situation.

Your heart skyrockets when you see him laughing as he goes through the door, catching his smile as he reads what you’ve written.

“Well, Barnes,” you say to yourself “I guess some people, do like it hot”

The next time you see him is completely unexpected. It’s almost midnight, and the rain is pouring heavily outside, the sudden storm taking you by surprise and forcing you to stay inside, because you sure as hell are not walking home in this weather.

He comes into the coffee shop, water dripping from his clothes and his eyes slightly red; shoulders sagged as he approaches the counter, although he tries to hide it by leaning against the counter.

“The usual, please, (Y/N)” he says, flashing you a bright smile, and you’re torn between asking him what’s wrong and just handing him his coffee, which is becoming harder by the second considering his wet clothes are clinging to his body, drawing all your attention to his sculpted chest.

“O…of course! Yeah, the coffee…Right. It’ll be ready in a second.” You stutter, fighting the urge to bang your head against the wall. Damn this incredibly handsome man and your hormones.

Your hands, shake a little as you hand him his coffee cup, your mind only registering the fact that it’s still raining outside when he’s about to go through the door.

“Hey!” you scream out, making him stop dead on his tracks and look at you. “It’s still raining, are you sure you’re going outside? You’ll get soaked,” you say, pointing out to the curtain of water falling just outside the coffee shop.

He turns around, smirk on his lips and one hand pushing back the wet strands of hair, fully aware of the effect it has on you.

“Well, doll, If I remember correctly, you don’t exactly seem to mind,” he says, winking at you. That cocky bastard!

However, before you can react, Bucky slams face first against the door, the coffee cup flying from his hand and the dark liquid spilling everywhere. But you’re too busy laughing to really care about the stain on the floor.

“Holy shit” you cackle, almost doubling over “That was-“ you wave a hand, motioning to him now sitting on the floor, his coffee spilled –“that was amazing! I can’t believe this is actually happening, are you alright?” You clutch your stomach as you walk towards him, pausing only to help him up and marveling at the blush in his cheeks.

“Fine,” he mumbles, right before moving towards the door again, before you tug as his arm, preventing him from going outside.

“Wait, you can’t go outside in this weather.” You motion towards the window, where big droplets of rain roll down the thick glass.

“I have to. My friends are waiting for me,” he answers, sounding even less convinced than you are at his pathetic excuse.

“Well,” you sigh “If you insist on walking under the rain and getting hypothermia, at least let me get you another coffee first. It’ll ease the guilt at letting you die.”

He laughs heartily at your joke, making a new wave of blush creep into your cheeks. It’s a nice laugh, you notice. You’re surprise you hadn’t heard it before.

Bucky seems to relax, letting his head rest against the back of the couch and allowing his eyes to close, until you return with his coffee in one hand and a blanket in the other.

“It’s… Your clothes. I figured… ugh.” you rake a hand through your hair, trying to focus “Here” You give him the blanket motioning for him to wrap it around his shoulders. “Your clothes are soaked, so I thought you might want the extra heat. There’s a drying machine here, so I could dry them for you, if you want.”

“Wow doll” he says “It’s what, the second conversation we’ve had? and you’re trying to get me naked already? I must say I’m impressed.”

There he is, the cocky man you have gotten so used to. Honestly, you would’ve probably hit him if it weren’t for the playful glint in his eyes.

“Just drink your coffee before I regret everything” you tell him, heading for the small stove behind the counter. “I’ll be back with some pancakes in a minute to pick up your clothes.”

As you turn around, you try to focus all of your attention on the pancake batter, trying to ignore the sound of wet clothing falling to the ground. Thankfully, by the time you’re back with a plate stacked with blueberry pancakes, he’s covered himself up with the blanket.

You leave the plate in front of him and head towards the back, throwing his clothes in the drying machine and waiting for it to start, a voice making you jump as you come back to the small living area. “So, no movie today?”

“Goodness Barnes!” You say, clutching a hand to your chest “You scared the shit out of me.”

“Sorry” he tells you, raising an eyebrow at his unanswered question “So…the movie. What happened?”

“Right! The movie.” You walk around the table, plopping down on the couch beside him and grabbing a pancake for yourself. “Singing in the Rain. Seemed quite fitting, don’t you think?”

Bucky laughs a little, taking a bite out of his pancake. “I haven’t seen that one.”

“Well…” you draw out “It may or may not be my favorite movie and I may or may not have in in my phone, in case you want to watch it.” You say, adding a little shrug at the end, fully expecting him to turn you down.

Instead, he leans a bit closer, his body warmth seeping from beneath the blanket and for a second there, you forget that he’s only wearing his boxers.

“Wait, are you serious?” you ask in disbelief, raising your eyebrows.

“As a heart attack. Might as well do something nice while it rains.” He retorts, making himself at ease, his arm brushing yours as he accommodates himself on the couch, pressing himself closer to get a glimpse at your phone screen, where the movie starts playing.

After a while, when the cold starts to seep into your bones, you find yourself huddling in a blanket beside Bucky, crawling closer to him to see if you can snatch a bit of his body heat for yourself. He chuckles, silently lifting his arm and wrapping it around your shivering frame.

You stay like that until the movie ends, and even then neither of you moves, waiting for the rain to stop. When the downpour finally becomes a slight trickle, you tear yourself from his grasp, retrieving his dry clothes from the back room and giving him some time to dress.

“I don’t know how this will look like (Y/N) but, can I ask for your number?” Bucky asks, zipping up his jacket, looking hopefully at you.

“Tell you what, Barnes,” you propose “you come here and perform that dancing sequence to me, and I’ll give you my number. What do you say?”

He seems to think about it for a second, smiling at you and putting his hands in his pockets, every bit the charming man. “You might be surprised, doll.” He answers, giving you a final wink. “See you next time!” he says, pushing past the door and into the street, spinning around on the nearest lamppost and eliciting a laugh from you.

“Indeed, James Barnes” you say to yourself, a small smile on your lips ���Until next time.”

Tags: @marvelwritingchallenge @buuuckybarnes @your-worry-home @browneyedwierdo @the-silver-iris @fluentflash @that-sokovian-bastard @bvchvnvn @wearemadeofstories @rapturousromanoff-deactivated20 @shamvictoria11 @mangosoldier @john-the-panda @bovaria @poe-also-bucky @re2d2 @bucky-plums-barnes @bucky-trash-bash @bxckyfxcknbxrnes @mellifluous-melodramas @imhereforbvcky @wingtaken @buckygolucky @whatsbetterthanfantasy

Let me know if you would like to be added/removed from the list!

[redgillan]

Noodle

Marvel Writing Challenge: redgillan vs. princess-basket-case

Prompt: Spaghetti Kiss scene from Lady and the Tramp

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader

Word Count: 1,706

Tags: Fluff, Dogs and more fluff.

It was a casual Friday night and instead of going to some bar with the other Avengers, you stayed with Steve to watch a movie in which two dogs tried to find their owner. It was a chilly evening, you were wrapped in your American flag blanket that Steve had bought you for your last birthday.

It was like him, fluffy and warm, and you absolutely loved it.

“We should get a dog,” Steve said, leaning forward to get another slice of pizza.

“Oh, yes!” you beamed, then turned to look at him. “Do you think Tony would let us?”

Steve chuckled, wiping his mouth with his paper napkin. “I know he acts like it, but he’s not our father. Plus, I think it would be good for the team.”

“I agree.” You nodded, making a mental note to visit the animal shelter the next day.

You smiled at each other and kept eye contact when Steve leaned forward. Your stomach flipped, you really thought he was going to kiss you. He raised his hand and dabbed at the corner of your mouth with his napkin.

“You had a little something,” he said with a smile that almost made you swoon.

“Oh, thanks,” you muttered, trying to hide your disappointment.

You both returned your attention to the film. Steve shot you a sideways glance, his heart beating like thunder in his chest. Truth was he really wanted to kiss you, but he misread the look on your face and quickly tried to find an excuse.  

Natasha and Clint witnessed the whole exchange from the kitchen. They were always so discreet that you didn’t hear them coming, or perhaps it was because Steve monopolised your thoughts.

“We need to do something,” she whispered to Clint while looking at the both of you. “It’s getting ridiculous.”

“Don’t get involved, Nat,” he warned her.

“Just trying to help.” She smirked.

The next day, you went to the animal shelter with Steve, Sam and Bucky. Pretty much everyone was on board with the whole dog thing.

You and Sam were playing with the cutest beagle puppy in the world. Steve looked at you with an adoring smile, which made Bucky grin.

“Why don’t you talk to her?” He placed his hand on Steve’s shoulder, bringing him back to reality.

Steve turned his head so fast he nearly lost his balance. “W-What?”

Bucky snorted. “You guys spend all your time together, I’m sure she wouldn’t mind going on a date with you.”

“No.” Steve shook his head. “We’re colleagues and friends, there is no place for romance in my life.”

“Steve,” Bucky sighed, throwing his head back. “Your life desperately needs romance.”

You stood up, smoothed your clothes and walked over to the super soldiers. “I have to make a phone call. I won’t be long.” They nodded and you were gone.

The boys continued to play with the dog until they heard peals of laughter echoing faintly. Intrigued, they followed the sound and found you playing with a big Bernedoodle. The dog took you by surprise when you tried to leave.

The black and white dog was trying to climb on top of you. You giggled when he started to lick your face. The sound of your laughter and the look on your face made Steve’s heart beat faster than any heart should.

“How old is this one?” Sam asked the old woman who owned the shelter.

“Seven,” she replied with a sad frown. “He’s been here since he was a puppy. No one wants him. It’s a shame he’s the friendliest dog I have, but he’s too big for most people. If no one adopts him, we’ll have to... well you know.”

“We’ll take him,” Steve said and four heads immediately turned to him.

“Really?” the old lady asked with tearful eyes.

“Yeah, Steve, really? It’s a large dog.”

“We have a large estate.” Steve shrugged.

“Oh, Sir!” the old lady said with a quiver in her voice. “You are a wonderful man.”

Steve smiled to himself. He saved the dog and pleased you at the same time. It was a win-win situation. And if taking the dog meant that he’d get to hear your lovely laugh again, then this dog was perfect.

Steve heard an excited scream before you wrapped your arms around his waist, hugging him tight. He hugged you back and closed his eyes, nuzzling his nose in your hair as the smell of your shampoo hit him like a jab to the stomach.

A lot of paperwork later, you were returning home with Noodle. The dog was beyond excited. He put his head out of the window, his tail wagging as you scratched his downy fur.

Once Sam opened the door, Noddle started to run across the lawn towards the main building. He stopped in front of Natasha, sniffed her and continued to run.

“That’s a pretty big dog,” she said, watching Noddle chase a bee.

“They were going to put him down,” steve replied, standing next to her.

Natasha and Steve watched you, Sam and Bucky play fetch with Noodle. The dog followed you everywhere, making you laugh as you tried to escape him.

“Looks like you have competition, Steve,” Natasha teased him.

“Natasha,” Steve sighed.

“You like her,” she singsang with a knowing smirk.

“No, I don’t.”

“Yeah right, someone should tell your face,” she scoffed.

*

Noddle got along pretty well with the rest of the team. A few weeks later, you were sitting on the sofa, ready to watch a movie with Steve when Noodle jumped up in your lap. With a heavy sigh, Steve entered the living room.

“Need your blanket?”

“Thanks, but I already have something to keep me warm,” you chuckled, feeling Noddle’s warm breath hit your thin shirt.

Steve grimaced childishly at himself as he threw the American flag blanket on the kitchen table.

“Hey, put Lady and the Tramp. Noodle loves that movie,” you said, petting the dog’s head.

“Of course,” Steve mumbled. He pressed play on the remote and sat back on the sofa.

Natasha and Sam were ready to leave when they saw you, Steve and Noodle in front of the television.

Noodle tried to grab Steve’s attention, but the latter purposely looked away. Steve had been rather cold lately and Noddle was desperate for his affection.

The dog nudged his little wet nose under Steve’s hand and whimpered for Steve to pet him. With a pout, Steve gave in and Noddle scrambled onto in his lap.

You felt suddenly cold without the big ball of black and white fluff. You brought your knees to your chest and curled up closer to Steve who grinned to himself. He petted Noddle’s head affectionately.

Bella Notte played as the two onscreen dogs shared a plate of spaghetti and meatballs.

Noddle barked and jumped off Steve’s lap to sit in front of the screen. He turned his big woolly head and looked at you and Steve as if to say ‘That looks yummy. Give it to me, now!’

Natasha looked at the two of you laughing softly and smirked, mentally preparing for her next move.

“I know that look,” Sam scoffed, poking Natasha’s cheek. “You just got an idea.” He grinned when she nodded.

*

You were going back to your room when you noticed that someone had left Noodle’s toy on the ground. It was a very long, sort of, skipping rope. You briefly wondered what it was doing here and picked up the end of the rope.

You pulled on it to make the other end come back to you, but it didn’t move. With the rope still in hand, you decided to see what was blocking the other end of the string.

Little did you know that the other end of the skipping rope was in Steve’s hand and he, too, thought that the rope was stuck somewhere behind a door’s edge. You turned the corner and crashed into Steve’s cement-like chest, making him drop his end of the skipping rope.

“I’m so sorry!” Steve cupped your face and examined your eyes for any sign of pain. Your nose felt a little sore. You slowly opened your eyes, smiling reassuringly at him until you noticed how close he was.

Your eyes were fixed on his lips, they looked so soft and lush. His bottom lip was plump and looked absolutely delicious. You wondered what it would feel like to kiss him, to nip at his bottom lip with your teeth.

Suddenly his oh so desirable mouth split in a cheeky grin. Wait, did you just say that out loud?

“Do you really want to find out?” he asked, rubbing his thumb over your cheekbone. Yep, you said it out loud...

You let the rope fall to the ground and fisted his shirt, yanking him closer as you crashed your lips against his. To say that the kiss was eager and desperate would be an understatement.

He turned you so that your back was pressed against the wall, his fingers tangled in your hair as you kissed the living daylights out of each other. He was so close that you could feel the muscles of his abdomen contract.

You sucked his bottom lip between your teeth, making him growl deep in his throat. He pulled away, struck dumb by the kiss. It took you several seconds to catch your breath.

“Wanna watch a movie?”

He hummed in response, burying his face in the crook of your neck. “That would be a good background noise while I kiss your neck.”

“Oohfuck!” you whimpered when he found the spot that made your knees go weak. He smirked against your skin, definitely pleased with himself.

You caught his hand and led him to your room. Natasha was hiding with Noddle behind a wall. She bent down to rub the dog’s furry head.

“We’re a good team, Noddle.” The dog looked in sheer bliss as she tickled his ear. She straightened up and took a step towards the kitchen. “Come on, you earned your meatballs.”

The dog practically jumped at the sound of the word meatball, which was probably one of the only few words he knew.

fin

if you’ve enjoyed this story, please consider supporting my work by buying me a Ko-fi

[rebel-author-chick]

Into The Woods (A Clint Barton x Reader One-Shot)

Here’s my entry for the @marvelwritingchallenge‘s September writing challenge though it is a bit last minute and kind of short. 

Topic: Hiking  

Partner: @stevergxrs

Rating: K+

Warnings: None

     You weren’t sure how Clint had convinced you to take a vacation away from the other Avenger’s but here you were. When the car Tony lent you let you out, you had to hike up a hill to reach your destination. Unfortunately, Clint didn’t tell you about having to take a small hike before getting to your vacation spot so you were inappropriately dressed for the trip.

     “This place had better be worth it, Clint.” You told him between deep breaths as the two of you climbed the hill.

     Clint laughed, “We haven’t been walking for ten minutes yet and your already tired? I though you were supposed to be a trained assassin.” He poked one of your sides before giving you a quick kiss on the forehead. “And trust me, it is.”

     You gave him a glare and walked ahead of him until you reached the top of the hill. Clint was telling the truth. In front of you stood a small wooden cabin that sat in the middle of a forest with tall trees that seemed to go on forever. You dropped the bags you were carrying and looked up to the sky, the sun peaked through the few red, orange, and yellow colored leaves that still clinging to branches while the majority littered the forest floor. The cabin itself wasn’t much, but it looked cozy, it had two stories and was made out of a dark stained wood with a large wrap around porch.

     “So, what do you think?” Clint asked as he wrapped his arms around your waist and placed his head on your shoulder.

     You looked up at the cabin in front of you and sigh. “It’s perfect. Where did you find it?”

     “I had a little help from J.A.R.V.I.S., I figured we could use a break from the craziness of New York.” He placed a gentle kiss to your temple before releasing you and grab the bags from the ground. “Shall we go inside?”

     You give him a smile and grab your backpack before following him up the porch steps and into the cabin. The interior was just as cozy as the outside with a fireplace in the middle of the right wall surrounded by two large bookcases that reached the ceiling. A rug sat on the floor between a couch and two recliners in a small circle around the fireplace. The back wall opened up to a quaint sized kitchen with wooden cabinets made of the same wood of the outside walls and stone countertops while to the left of the room sat a wooden staircase that led to the second floor. While you stood admiring the cabin, Clint had taken the luggage upstairs, changed his clothes, and came back down within five minutes. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pressed a kiss to his lips as he placed his hands on your hips.

     “What did I do to deserve you?”

     “I think I should be asking you that question.” He replied as he pressed his forehead against yours and drew small patterns on your jean covered hips. “You’ve put up with me for three years, most of which we’ve spent on undercover missions, fighting aliens, a mind controlling god, and a psychotic robot hell-bent on destroying the human race, and yet here you are, still with me after all the crazy shit the world has thrown at us.”

     Clint took a small step back and grabbed one of your hands in his, his eyes never leaving yours as he got down on one knee and pulled a small box from his pocket. You could feel your eyes start to water as you realized what he was about to do and placed your free hand shakily over your face.

     “(Your Full Name) would you marry me?” Clint pulled a ring with a small (Birthstone) gem in the center and you could just barley see something written on the inside of the ring. You dropped to your knees and flung your arms around Clint’s broad shoulders, knocking him flat on his back.

     “Yes,” you cry into his shoulder. “Of course I’ll marry you.” You could feel his smile against your shoulder before he pushed himself up and kissed you.

[girl-next-door-writes]

‘Team Building’

Written especially for the amazing @marvelwritingchallenge.  This is my very first Marvel fic so I hope it doesn’t suck. Thank you and much love to @yxllowumbrella for reading this and generally being wonderful when I throw my writing at her.

Characters: Steve, Bucky, Sam, Tony, Wanda, Vision, Reader, mention of Nat and Clint.

Summary: Turns out Tony’s idea of ‘Team Building’ is frustrating but he may be on to something.

Word Count: 1112

Prompt: Corn Mazes (paired with @redgillan)

This was definitely not how you wanted to spend your day but Stark had been so adamant, so desperate that everyone play a role in this one there was no way you could have refused.  So here you all were, standing like a bunch of teenagers on some boring field trip, waiting for the great man himself to appear.  The sound of a helicopter nearing had the team looking up, scanning the sky expecting the dramatic arrival of their benevolent host. A woman in office attire made her way shakily across the field in highly inappropriate footwear.  Coming to an abrupt halt she regained her composure and opened an ipad turned the screen and pressed play.

“Oh, hello, didn’t see you there,” The dulcet tones of Stark rang out of the device as the image of him sat, rather smugly, at a table filled with a range of unimaginable treats.  “As you can see I have rather an impressive picnic here for you, all you have to do is make it through the maze.”  His words elicited a range of groans and protests as well as a few choice expletives.  “But we all know that would just be far too easy so, in the name of team work, you are to partner up, grab yourself some of the laser tag equipment in the bag Marcy is about to hand over to Rogers and whichever pair makes it to me, in the centre, taking the least amount of fire wins the coveted prize of not having to join in any more ‘team building’ for the next three months.”  

Whatever Tony said after that was lost as people scrambled to pair up and grab the kit.  The sooner this thing started the sooner it would be over.  “Me and you Steve.” You shouted over to your friend and he nodded just as Sam grabbed his arm. “Hey! I already called Rogers, get your own team-mate Wilson.” Not waiting to hear his protests you grabbed your gear and Steve’s hand, dragging him to the entrance of the ridiculous corn maze.  

Sam looked around.  Nat and Clint had partnered up and were heading towards the maze as were Wanda and Vision.  He closed his eyes and sighed as he realized that his only option was Bucky.  “We’d best win this.” He huffed throwing a laser tag vest as his unwilling team mate.

You were beginning to regret partnering up with Steve.  Between him ‘accidentally’ shooting you a few times while he figured out the gear and him being so cautious at every damn turning you were sure that Nat and Clint had probably already made it to the middle and would be sat smugly with Stark eating strawberries.  

An hour later and you were both totally disoriented, not that Steve would admit that.  He put a finger to his lips, his stern expression telling you to tread lightly as you made your way down yet another twisty, dusty pathway flanked by the ten-foot green walls on either side with just a strip of blue sky above.  You were internally cursing Stark for his ridiculous task.  How the hell was this building team moral?  You had tried several times to peer between the stalks but it did you no good. You could have sworn you occasionally saw a flash of something or someone but the silence was driving you crazy. You were growing impatient when you heard voices and a broad grin broke out on your face.

‘I swear man, stand on me one more time, I dare ya.’

‘Shut up Wilson.  You want another Barton ambush?’

‘Make me.’

‘Fight me.’

There was a loud crash as the stalks on one side gave way and the ball of fury that was a Barnes vs Wilson scuffle landed virtually at your feet. Already on high alert Steve span round as you began to rapidly fire.  Your eyes met Buckys as Sams chest plate vibrated indicating a barrage of direct hits, and the look of hurt on his face when he realized it was you doing damn near broke your heart.  There was a brief pause as you all looked at each other before Rogers pushed you behind him and whispered ‘run.’

Sprinting through the maze’s many twists and turns, the sound of your heavy breathing and Bucky quick on your heels had you so focused that you ran straight into Wanda as you turned the corner.  Knocking her to the ground you shouted out an apology and shot Vision a look of contrition as you continued to run.  You felt bad, hoped she would be okay but there was no way you were about to let Barnes catch you.  Just as you were about to round the next corner a force you would say similar to that of being hit by a freight train hit your side, launching you through a thick wall of corn knocking the breath out of you leaving you lay flat on your back gasping with your eyes closed tight.  The weight on top of you shifted slightly and a whimper escaped as you mentally assessed the damage to your body.  

“You okay?” the sound of Starks concern made you open one eye only to see him standing over you, a glass of something expensive and incredibly alcoholic in his hand.  Shifting your gaze you were met with familiar grey eyes filled with a look of apprehension. Bucky was still lay on top of you after that spectacular tackle and from his facial expression you could tell he was terrified that he might actually have hurt you.  “If you could possibly, you know, get off me Barnes that would be great.” You winced as he moved and offered his hand to help you up. Tentatively getting to your feet you smiled at Buck, “Thought you were a super solder Buck, that all ya got?”  He huffed in amusement and relief watching you carefully as you made your way to a lawn chair.  “Well congratulations you two,” Tony said glancing down at his tablet, “Looks like you win.”

Confused you look between Bucky and Stark “What? Steve’s my partner. How can me and Buck win?”  

“I just said the pair who took the least hits and that would be you two.  Looks like there’s quite the firefight going on right now.”  Showing you the screen the numbers next to Sams name shot up every few seconds causing you to giggle. Yeah, there was no doubt about it Wilson was gonna be pissed but knowing you didn’t have to take part in these ridiculous tasks for the next three months somehow made it hard to care.

[robertdowneyjjr]

i can’t wait for u guys to sue me after i post my @marvelwritingchallenge fic lmao

[abovethesmokestacks]

Made To Fit

Marvel Writing Challenge: @abovethesmokestacks vs. @sebbytrash Prompt: sweaters Pairings: Bucky Barnes x reader Word Count: 2.7k Tags: so much fluff

This fic can also be found on AO3. It is not to be reposted anywhere else without my express permission.

There’s a package on his bed.

Bucky has been standing in front of his bed, staring at the wrapped parcel for nearly ten minutes, as if his quiet presence would intimidate it into revealing what it is, why it’s there, and most importantly: who put it there. Deliveries are usually left at the private access on the first floor, or taken up to the common area for the Avengers to pick up. Their rooms were supposed to be secure, only accessible to the tenant. His first instinct was to check the door for signs of a break-in, but found the locking mechanism to be untouched, the keypad outside his door in pristine condition.

”F.R.I.D.A.Y?” he speaks, not taking his eyes of the package.

”Yes, mr. Barnes?”

”Has anyone been in my room?”

The AI is silent for a second. ”There has been no unauthorized access to your quarters, mr. Barnes.”

”Then why is there a package in my room?”

”Sir, per the guidelines set for the private floors of the tower, there are no cameras-”

”…in the rooms,” Bucky finishes grimly, crossing his arms over his chest.

His mind whirls, spitting out scenarios, each as unlikely as the next. It all boils down to the same thing: someone has gotten inside his room without leaving any digital trace. For a second, Bucky considers calling Stark to report the breach and complain about how someone could get past his supposed top-notch security, but decided against it. Until he knew what was in the parcel, he might as well keep the breach on the down low.

The object in question is as plain as it can get; wrapped in plain brown wrapping paper tied with white string, it looks to be something soft, the edges rounded and slightly indented here and there. Cautiously approaching, Bucky strains his ears to listen for any suspicious sound that could come from the package, but hears nothing. A swift poke confirms that it was something altogether soft, his right index finger meeting little resistance. Can’t be anything dangerous, right?

He tentatively reaches for the string, pulling at it to unfurl the neat little bow. As soon as the string is loosened, the paper gives way, and Bucky nudges the parcel over, unfolding it fully. He can only stare when the content is revealed. Far from any threat, any kind of danger. Resting on the wrapping paper is a crisply folded  knitted sweater. Bucky lets out a breath, feeling a bit ashamed for getting so worked up over a sweater. The mystery of how it got into his room still remains, but at the very least it’s not someone trying to kill him.

Bucky gently picks up the sweater, shaking it loosely to unfold it. There’s a cable knit-like pattern starting at the shoulders, snaking down the arms to the cuffs, while the rest of the shirt is plain. The colour, not quite blue, but not quite grey, is soothing to him, and he thumbs the exquisitely soft material between the fingers of his right hand. With a simple toss, he grabs hold of the hem, poking his arms in until they peek out of the cuffs. Another tug and a duck of his head, Bucky pulls the sweater over his head. It feels… good. Looking down at himself, the sweater seems perfect.

”F.R.I.D.A.Y?”

”Yes, mr. Barnes?”

”Is there any way to, I don’t know, make the windows… into mirrors?”

Apart from a small bathroom mirror, he doesn’t have a mirror, and what he has is not enough to give him a full size view of himself. He’s loath to look at himself, at the arm, to linger on the man staring back at him in the reflection, but for this, he’ll make an exception.

”Certainly, mr. Barnes.”

The floor-to-ceiling windows lining the furthermost wall start to cloud, seamlessly shifting from transparent to opaque to reflective. His room takes shape in the mirrors, and he soon catches himself coming into focus. Instinctively, he bunches the cuffs to cover the hand of his bionic arm, give himself one thing less to fret over. Bucky can’t help but give himself a one-over before settling on the sweater. His hair is getting too long, too unruly again. There are shadows under his eyes that would benefit from more sleep, and he should probably shave before someone calls the authorities to report a Bigfoot sighting in the middle of Manhattan.

He lets out a defeated sigh, casting his eyes downward to the gift. It fits like a glove, hugging to his muscled form but with enough elasticity to become just the right amount of oversized with use. The sleeves are long enough to allow him to hide his hands if he bunches the cuffs, but the cuffs are tight enough that they won’t cause the arms to start hanging like monkey limbs anytime soon. The colour, aside from the soothing quality, also brings out the blue in his eyes, making them shine from behind the curtain of hair hanging in front of them. Bucky smiles softly. He really should get a haircut.

Reaching back, he prods around the neckline for a tag, only to realize there is none. Brows knit together in slight confusion, he sheds the sweather and looks again. No tags, no trace of them having been cut off. Someone made this for him, from scratch. Someone put precious time and effort into crafting a sweater for him, to his physical specs. Someone… who didn’t want to be known, skilled enough to avoid detection. Luckily for him, he’s a master spy.

Or so he thinks.

He wears the sweater throughout the week, anytime he can, carefully analyzing reactions and comments, keeping a running tally over who is most likely the secret knitter. Bucky only succeeds in realizing he knows very little about his team mates, because he keeps faltering between completely dismissing and more or less confirming them. When Steve quirks an eyebrow at him, he’s sure. It’s the punk, who else would knit him a sweater. But then- how the hell would Steve have learned to knit a sweater? When you and Wanda make a comment about his sweater looking nice, he zeroes in on the two of you. You’re girls, you probably know- He has to stop himself right there and give himself a mental smack on the head. It’s a different world from the one he grew up in, he shouldn’t make assumptions like that. The only one he’s fairly sure he can disregard is Tony. There is no love lost between them, and unless this is some new, weird way for the eccentric billionaire to make amends, then Tony Stark is definitely not the mystery knitter.

Seven days in, and Bucky is not closer to solving his little riddle. Sam, Steve and Wanda are out on a mission, Stark has been tied up in business meetings for the past couple of days. It’s been him, you and Nat, and he’s barely seen the two of you either. You always seem to be leaving whenever he sees you, and it feels like he hasn’t spoken to anyone in days. It irks him. He still wears the sweater, reluctant to take it off. He doesn’t strictly need it, the serum ensuring his core temperature adapts to his surroundings, but he likes the sentiment, the feeling of the knitwear against his skin.

He’s still having trouble sleeping, unable to get more than a few hours in every night, so Bucky’s usually the first one up in the morning. Sometimes he waits it out, watching the city slowly come into light through his windows, other times he joins Steve on his morning jog. It’s not always nightmares anymore, but more of a sense of restlessness, as if his body knows it’s been immobile for large periods of time and can’t take more than a few hours at a time of it now. Today he doesn’t feel like running, but he’s too wound up for simply sitting around, so he pulls on a pair of sweats and the sweater, making his way down to the common room for breakfast.

It’s all routine, nothing special. Bucky feels like he should at some point become tired of scrambled eggs, but it hasn’t happened yet. Pushing up the sleeves of the sweater, he sets about preparing, putting a skillet on medium heat, cracking an obscene amount of eggs into a bowl, mixing in cream and salt and pepper, whisking furiously to combine.

”Jeez, Gaston, save some for the rest of us.”

He flinches, sending a spray of whisked egg flying across the counter. Unless there’s a mission or an early meeting, you’re not one for voluntarily crawling out of bed a 6 am. Bucky sets down the bowl to turn around, ready to ask what the hell you’re doing up, but his words hitch in his throat when he sees you. Shuffling along the floor in a pair of fuzzy socks, legs bare and slightly prickled from the cold, a pair of cotton sleep shorts barely visible under a-

”Where did you get that?” Bucky finally manages to choke out, pointing to the very familiar-looking sweater you’re wearing.

There’s a soft smile, something like relief gracing your features when you hastily look down to pinch the arms of the sweater.

”I made it.”

”You… made it.”

”Yeah.”

Silence. His gaze flickers between your sweater and his own. Same general design, same intricate cable pattern over the shoulders and down the arms. The only difference is that yours is a soft, off-white colour, set off beautifully against your complexion.

”So you…”

”Yeah.”

Bucky hesitates, tries to think back to the past week. Should he have suspected you? He can’t come up with anything, no extra smiles just for him, no prodding questions or comments apart from the one where you concurred with Natasha when she said the sweater looked nice.

”Why?” he finally asks, because apart from the identity of the knitter, this is what’s been bugging him all week.

”Why not?” you shoot back, but heave a sigh when Bucky only stares back imploringly. ”Because I thought you needed one, okay? I know, Steve said you don’t really need one, that you’re like him, but you walk around looking so sad sometimes, I just… I wanted you to have something good. So I knit you a dumb sweater.”

”Wait, Steve said?” Bucky furrows his brow, scooting the bowl to the side, planting both hands on the counter.

”Well, yeah. I tried eyeballing your size at first, and that went about as well as you can imagine. So I… brought in the cavalry.”

”Steve?”

You nodded, wrapping your arms around you. ”And Tony. And Nat.”

”You consulted Tony on this one?” Bucky looks down at the sweater, expecting guns and lasers to pop out from the stitches at any second.

”He has access to your medical records. Height, weight, that kind of thing. I didn’t snoop around your file, I just asked if I could get a couple of measurements to know which size to make. Then I used Steve as a general model. You guys have pretty similar build, so he got to be my mannequin for a while. He was very cranky about it.”

”And Nat?” He peers at you as you’re picking at the cuffs, avoiding his gaze, legs crossed so that your fuzzy socks almost meld together.

”How do you think I got the sweater into your room?”

Of course. No one else in the tower but Nat has the technical expertise to hack Stark’s system. Maybe this has been his mistake in all of this, assuming only one person was responsible. Well, ultimately, only one person is, and his heart does a strange little twist in his chest that feels oddly pleasing. He can feel the corners of his mouth tug up into a smile, and he can’t bring himself to try and stop it. You made him a sweater, you took time to make sure it’d fit him and you knit him a freaking sweater. So much of his life has been one cruelty stacked upon another, and there have been so few kindnesses come his way since breaking off from HYDRA. This gesture, this gift, it’s more than he feels he can ever pay you back, but he feels he has to try.

”You want breakfast?”

That gets your attention, your eyes snapping up to meet his in slight confusion. Bucky does his best to look calm and inviting, hoping like hell you’ll stay. You hesitate, and he’s about to go pleading on his knees, when you give a coy nod, inching closer to the counter until your right there in front of him. Bucky smiles and gives a little nod, returning to his scrambled eggs. While they cook, he makes a couple slices of toast, a whole packet of bacon and puts on a big pot of coffee, rummaging through the fridge for juice and fresh fruit. Say what you want about Stark, but he keeps his kitchen well-stocked.

He lets you have first pick, watching carefully as you scoop up eggs, maybe feeling a little self-conscious when he makes his own little mountain, topped with bacon and two slices of toast. You eat in silence, the sound of forks against plates creating a nice little morning symphony. It’s good, he thinks, he could get used to this. Breakfast together. Watching you through his lashes, there is still something slightly guarded about you, as if you’re not entirely convinced by his actions.

”It’s not dumb…” he murmurs, shoveling more scrambled eggs into his mouth.

”What?”

”’S not dumb,” he repeats, mouth full of food, and you can’t help the titter that spill from your lips.

Bucky wants to hear it again, wants to see you smile again.

”The sweater, it’s not dumb. It’s- I- It was a really nice gift. I l- I really like it.”

There it is, another smile. It is soft, barely discernible, but so sincere in the way it reaches your eyes. Bucky almost wants to reach out and touch your face, drag his thumb over your lips, memorize the way it looks and the way it feels under his touch.

”That’s… Thank you. I’m glad you like it.”

He gives a little nod, and for a while you’re back to eating in amicable silence, wordlessly communicating. Yes, more juice would be good. No, please no more bacon. Save me a piece. It’s nice and domestic, and by some miracle you both make it through without spilling anything on your sweaters. You help each other clean up, putting things back in the fridge, loading up the dishwasher, and Bucky desperately wants this little moment to go on, and so he blurts out the only thing he can think of.

”So… Who is Gaston?”

The way you stare at him gives him a feeling that he should know, even with his history. Shrugging his shoulders shyly, he waits for your reaction, keeping his fingers crossed it will buy him more time with you.

”You can’t be serious,” you utter, sounding way more scandalized than he thinks is possible.

When he doesn’t contest you, your mouth falls open, and you let out an indignant sound. Before Bucky knows it, you’ve grabbed onto his arm, fingers curling decidedly around the cuff of his sweater, pulling him with you. He could say no, could stop dead in his tracks and not move an inch, but he doesn’t want to. He lets you pull him away from the kitchen to the nearby media room, where he’s all but pushed onto the plush couch while you fiddle with the controls to select a movie.

”A cartoon?” he asks in disbelief when the screen flickers to life.

”Shh,” you hush him, plopping down next to him, warm body so close to his. ”I think you’re really gonna like it.”

Bucky looks down at you. There’s an excitement on your face that he hasn’t really seen before, something that looks almost innocent to his eyes. You’ve curled yourself into his side, and his right arm falls almost naturally around your shoulders, bringing you in even closer. He was right. He’ll never be able to repay you for the sweater. Not when it leads to this.

”Yeah…” he whispers, turning to the screen where a castle has just come into view. ”Yeah, I think so, too.”

[likemewhenimangry]

Jitters

Marvel Writing Challenge: likemewhenimangry  vs.  fics-4-all  Written By: Penny, likemewhenimangry Prompt: Coffee (September challenge) Characters: Tony Stark, Pepper Potts, Bruce Banner  Pairings: Pepper/Tony  Rating: PG (language) Word Count: 4471 Tags: Humor, Friendship, Science Bros, Pepperony, Hulk hijinks 

Summary: The Hulk isn’t angry today. A little wired, perhaps, but not angry. Tony and Pepper aren’t sure that’s any better. (Takes place between The Avengers and Iron Man 3.)

Excerpt: 

“Tony, oh my god,” Pepper moaned as the Hulk lost interest in him and closed in on her, boxing her against a wall. He curled over her, sniffing at her hair, and Pepper made a noise like a slowly deflating balloon.

“You’re fine, honey, he’s just-- he’s never met you, and he’s curious.” Tony kept a cautious distance, hoping to avoid putting Hulk on the defensive. “Just tell him... just tell him hello.” “He-hello,” Pepper said woodenly, and the Hulk began jumping up and down while she screamed at full lung capacity. “Hello!” Hulk chirped back at her in his thunderous baritone, dancing from foot to foot. He glanced over his shoulder to make certain Tony was observing. “Hello! Hello!” ”Hello, hello, oh my god, hello!” Pepper nearly sobbed in return, crouching low on the wall and shaking her head back and forth.

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

“An abomination,” Tony declared, but he poured the pumpkin spice creamer into all three mugs anyway. It looked like liquefied orange plastic as it bled through the black coffee, swirling together into a rust-hued pallor, and Tony grimaced. “I don’t want to see this garbage in my fridge again, Banner.”  “Look, when you’re stuck with decaf, you get your kicks where you can. You might like it,” Bruce said, reaching around him to snag his mug from the kitchen counter. He paused, hand hovering over a handle until Tony confirmed it was the lone cup of decaf with a nod, then took a careful sip. His eyes closed in appreciation.

Tony huffed out a rueful sigh. It was difficult to begrudge Bruce when he referenced his restriction on caffeine. Tony had to admire him for the little compromises he made in his life, finding ways to replace those things that were off-limits to him in light of his condition. Tony wasn’t certain he’d fare as well under the same circumstances. He told himself his respect for Bruce was the reason the coffee wasn’t entirely unpleasant when he finally slurped at the rim of his cup, finding a rich balance of spicy-sweet that somehow warmed his throat beyond the temperature of the beverage.  But Bruce was watching him, so Tony made a show of crinkling his nose in disgust. “Godawful. Repulsive. Literally the worst thing I’ve ever put in my mouth, and let me tell you, I’ve put some--” “You like it,” Bruce said, his knowing little smile prompting Tony to smirk at him in turn, eyes rolling in defeat. 

Bruce shook his head and gathered his tablet and clipboard under one arm, bearing his steaming mug in the opposite hand as he headed for the elevator that would take him to the lab. “Let me know later what Pepper thinks of it,” he called as he punched in his floor. Tony waved his acquiescence and waited until the doors closed, barring Bruce from sight, before he swallowed another long draw of his pumpkin spice coffee. The fragrance began to bloom as the cream melted, infusing the kitchen with the scent of cinnamon and nutmeg. Tony felt his toes curl up with pleasure, and though he was alone now, he was glad his traitorous feet were hidden inside his shoes. 

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

Running an international company required the occasional paperwork, regardless of Tony’s objections. He understood the necessity of financial meetings-- truly, he did. It didn’t prevent him from bemoaning the situation each time Pepper forced him to sit down with her and pour over quarterly reports, however.  He slumped back into his armchair, fingers pressed into the bridge of his nose. 

“Stop being a baby,” Pepper chided him, stretching over the sofa arm to swat his thigh. “We’re almost done. You should be grateful I agreed to work here in the living room instead of going to the office.” 

“I am,” he assured her. “I just have a headache, that’s all.”  She glanced at him over a chart she was marking, looking skeptical. “You just drank a big cup of coffee,” she pointed out, gesturing to their almost empty mugs on the coffee table. “The caffeine should’ve knocked out any headache you have.”

“Hm, yeah. Maybe I picked up Bruce’s decaf by mistake.”  “Probably,” Pepper said, continuing to shuffle through files. Tony kneaded his temples. He could use a proper cup if that were the case, but the remaining coffee would be stale by now. It’d been an hour or two. Maybe he could make a new pot, if Pepper were willing to drink more--  His spine went rigid as he sat upright, eyes flying wide open, and beside him, Pepper’s gaping mouth indicated that she’d reached the same realization in time with him.  “You gave Bruce caffeine? He drank caffeine?!” she whisper-shrieked, launching to her feet. She looked overhead, expectant, as if Bruce would come crashing through the ceiling at any moment. Hell, as far as Tony knew, he might. “How could you do that?! Oh my God. Tony, you idiot--”  “It was an accident! I got distracted by all the autumn-spice-apple-pumpkin-bullshit and-- and, honestly, it’s Banner’s fault, it’s his fault, really, and stop hitting me!” He snatched at Pepper’s wrists, but she continued to pummel him in the ribs. “Just relax! Maybe it won’t affect him. Maybe it’s like a placebo thing, you know, where if we don’t say anything about it, he’ll never even know.”  Pepper drew in a shaky breath. “Maybe. Yeah, okay, maybe.” She nodded to herself, turning away from Tony and pacing as she appeared to weigh the potential outcomes. Her eyes were tight when she finally stopped and met Tony’s gaze again. “I’m sorry. Look, you know I love Bruce, and I’m glad he’s living with us.”  “I know.”  “And it’s not that I’m scared of him, but it’s just-- it’s a delicate situation, Tony.”  “I know,” he said again, opening his arms, and Pepper hesitated only a second before walking into them. He rubbed her back through the soft cotton of her cable-knit sweater. “It is, and I’m sorry for being careless. It won’t happen again.”  He could feel the taut muscles in Pepper’s shoulders beginning to relax when he noticed the remnants of their morning coffee, shallow liquid trembling in the mugs. It shivered in time with the thud of heavy footfalls somewhere overhead, resounding like distant thunder and steadily drawing closer. Tony sucked in a sharp breath that Pepper didn’t miss, and she turned to follow his line of sight. “Oh hell no,” she hissed, stumbling backward toward no particular destination. Her eyes scanned in every direction, wide and wild. “I did not come this far to become a casualty in Tony Stark’s production of Jurassic Park!”  “No one’s going to die!” Tony said, but he found himself screaming the reassurance. There was a screech of metal as the elevator apparently crashed to the bottom of the shaft, and Pepper began wailing in earnest. The elevator doors groaned as thick, green fingers thrust between them, prying them apart.  “You gotta be calm, honey, okay? It’s fine, honey, it’s fine,” Tony babbled, hurling aside papers and half-empty mugs and whatever the hell else in his desperation to reach the suit chamber built into the lower deck of the coffee table. He mashed the thumbprint-activated button, over and over, though he knew it did nothing to hasten the process as armor wound its way up his arms and down his thighs, whirring and clicking into place, providing him with what he recognized to be a foolhardy sense of security, but better than nothing, against--  The Hulk lumbered free of the demolished elevator shaft, announcing his presence with little snorts and grunts that made Tony think of a snuffly bulldog. The shredded vestiges of what were once Bruce Banner’s neatly pleated khakis clung around the massive trunk of his body. He spared a moment to look Tony over, and Tony knew the Hulk recognized him, knew he identified the red and gold of his armor as his helmet locked into place. “Hey, pal,” Tony greeted him, trying to sound casual. “What-- uh, whatcha doin’ here, today?...”  “Tony, oh my god,” Pepper moaned as the Hulk lost interest in him and closed in on her, boxing her against a wall. He curled over her, sniffing at her hair, and Pepper made a noise like a slowly deflating balloon. 

“You’re fine, honey, he’s just-- he’s never met you, and he’s curious.” Tony kept a cautious distance, hoping to avoid putting Hulk on the defensive. “Just tell him... just tell him hello.”  “He-hello,” Pepper said woodenly, and the Hulk began jumping up and down while she screamed at full lung capacity.  “Hello!” Hulk chirped back at her in his thunderous baritone, dancing from foot to foot. He glanced over his shoulder to make certain Tony was observing. “Hello! Hello!”  ”Hello, hello, oh my god, hello!” Pepper nearly sobbed in return, crouching low on the wall and shaking her head back and forth.  Tony took advantage of Hulk’s frenzy to wedge himself in front of Pepper. “It’s okay, it’s alright! We’ve been teaching him to talk. He’s just excited. Hey, that’s good, buddy, that’s so good,” Tony crooned, making a placating motion with his hands.

The Hulk took the cue to settle down, thankfully, but his mouth was still split in a toothy grin. His meaty fingers twitched at his side, like he wasn’t quite sure what to do next, and his pupils were dilated into round black saucers. 

“Got a caffeine buzz there, huh?” Tony chuckled to himself, and even through his plating, he could feel Pepper rise from her crouched position behind him to punch him in the back of the head.  “This is not funny, Tony Stark!” she hissed, kicking his shin for good measure, but she kept him in front of her, her hands planted firmly on his shoulders. “You did this to Bruce. You fix it right now!”  “Alright, relax.” Tony made a kissy-noise at her through the helmet, but she slapped the side of it, effectively redirecting his attention to the big green problem at hand. “We just have to wear him out, and then Banner will take over.”

“We? I don’t have to do anything,” Pepper said, and she edged out from behind Tony to slowly creep across the room. “This is a 100% you problem. You get him out of here and don’t come back until he’s a shy little scientist again.” 

“Fine.” The Hulk was bouncing on his toes, watching Iron Man with an air of expectation, and Tony knew that disappointing him was in no one’s best interest. “What do you wanna do, pal?” he asked, and he pointed beyond the large picture windows, wanting to be clear that any activities would have to take place at a safe distance from the house. “You wanna go smash something?” The Hulk scowled and shook his head, to Tony’s surprise. He began gesturing, swinging his barrel-like arms and croaking disconnected syllables, his voice straining around desires he clearly didn’t know how to verbalize. It struck Tony with a pang of sadness, to think of his incalculably brilliant friend, of the razor-sharp acuity that lit Bruce’s eyes whenever he routed a new equation or unraveled a string of troublesome code, and how it all somehow was locked away, inaccessible, as the Hulk struggled to express a simple thought.  Still, he’d been learning, and he finally managed to say, “Tree.”  “Tree,” Tony repeated, thinking. “Okay. We can go see some trees. The park’ll be too crowded at this time of day, though, and, no offense, you won’t be a welcome picnic guest. We can head out of the city, though, find a big field and maybe scare the hell outta some cows--”  The Hulk cut his hands back and forth, head shaking again. Tony could tell he was getting frustrated, which wasn’t good for anyone. “Tree!” Hulk shouted, pointing at Pepper, who had made slow and careful progress toward an escape route. She halted when his attention refocused upon her, poised like a statue in front of the staircase.  “Why does he think I’m a tree?” she gritted without turning her head.  Tony shrugged, eyes rolling. “I don’t know. You’re tall.” “No, I’m not, not really. You just think I’m tall because you’re short.”  “Yeah, alright, wow. Do you have a list somewhere? Neatly organized bullet points that outline the surest ways to damage my ego? Because, honestly, honey--”  “As a matter of fact,” Pepper began, but that’s as far as she got. In the next second, the Hulk had swept her up, bodily, clutching her tight to his chest as he plowed toward the wide expanse of windows on the far wall.  “Tony!” Pepper gurgled, flailing uselessly in her captor’s hold. “Oh my god, stop him, Tony, Tony--!”  “Hold on! Put her down! You put her down right now!” Iron Man ordered as he stumbled along in pursuit, holding one hand aloft with the repulsor glowing hot. He had no intention of actually shooting the Hulk, which would do little more than agitate him at any rate, but sometimes the visual of a disgruntled teammate was enough to dissuade him from carrying out his current impulse.  This wasn’t one of those times. Hulk merely repeated “Tree!” in a voice brightened with giddy energy, and he crashed through the pane of glass with Pepper in tow. 

They must’ve been a sight, Tony thought, as they tore through Manhattan, the Hulk gleefully rebounding across rooftops and cranes, Pepper belting one long, unending scream of “Tooooonyyyyy!” from his arms, and Iron Man soaring along after them while unleashing a torrent of obscenities. The audio receptors in his helmet provided feedback from the civilians below as he passed over: strangled cries of “What the hell!” and “I hate this goddamn city.” and “Aw, shit, Hulk’s gonna eat that girl!” They finally came to a stop in Central Park, and the joggers and families gathered there were just as displeased as Tony had suggested they might be. Everyone seemed to freeze in place for a long second when the Hulk’s massive feet first touched ground. And then pandemonium erupted at once, people screaming and gathering their children and abandoning picnic blankets and bicycles and ice cream cones as they fled in every direction. “Sorry, everyone!” Tony called after them. “He just wanted some fresh air! He doesn’t mean any harm, really! I think,” he added under his breath, more to himself, but no one was listening, anyway.  The Hulk released Pepper, letting her tumble to the grass, and immediately set off to inspect the nearest tree.  “Shhh, it’s okay, you’re okay,” Tony murmured as Pepper stumbled into his arms, still dizzy and disoriented from her unexpected transport, But she was in control enough to strike him in the chestplate with both fists, and to begin ranting at him in that prim-but-livid tone she used that Tony liked to call “polished demon.” 

“One normal day!” she seethed. “That’s what I want, Tony. One normal day with you, one that doesn’t involve men with electric bullwhips, or you carrying a goddamn nuke into outer space, or a monster dragging me across Manhattan--”

“Honey, you know I’d give you anything in the world, but I can’t give you that. Come on now,” he added, turning her around to watch the Hulk. “That monster is our friend, and he just wanted to play. Look how careful he’s being, aw.”  The Hulk was peering up at the tree that drew his attention, fingers outstretched to touch a cluster of dappled green-and-yellow leaves.  It was tender, almost, the way he seemed to ponder the delicate branches. Then he ripped the entire trunk free of the ground, and hefted the tree overhead, roots dangling past his shoulders.  Pepper choked out an indignant note, and Tony sighed. “You can’t do that, buddy,” he admonished, and the Hulk frowned at him as he lumbered closer. “Not nice to kill a tree. Trees are friends, right?”  “Tree,” Hulk grunted, and Tony wasn’t sure if it was in agreement or defiance. He lowered his burden close to Pepper, so that the leaves brushed over her face and hair. She batted them away, fighting to disentangle herself from the long branches that hovered around her like a makeshift cage. 

“I see the tree! Yes, I see!” she promised, as if she thought it would encourage the Hulk to remove it from her proximity. And he did just that: his mouth and brows curled down with some source of displeasure, and he hoisted the tree far overhead before flinging it aside. It crashed into a pedestrian bridge that crossed a shallow stream, concrete and plaster crumbling into the water.  Tony clicked his tongue, hands planted astride his hips. “That’s coming out of your paycheck, Banner,” he mumbled, but the Hulk was already stomping off in pursuit of whatever else had caught his eye. He and Pepper could do little else but watch as the Hulk circled another tree, glancing at Iron Man before plucking one small limb.  Well, that was better than uprooting the entire thing. “Good job, bud,” Tony praised him, and the Hulk carried his branch to Pepper once more. It was covered with dark red maple leaves. Pepper gave Tony a skeptical look as the Hulk held it out to her. “Mmhm, so pretty, okay then,” she crooned, sputtering when the Hulk pushed it too close to her face. He looked at the leaves, then her hair, and frowned again. 

“No,” the Hulk said, dropping the branch and seeking out yet another tree.  Tony elbowed Pepper in the side. “You weren’t enthusiastic enough,” he reproached her in a whisper. “You hurt his feelings!” “I am trying my best here!” she grated out. “I didn’t realize I was going to be babysitting a two-ton green toddler today!”

“No arguing in front of our son,” Tony said, hand held out to silence her when the Hulk returned to them once more. He presented Pepper with a limb of amber colored leaves now, autumn sunlight filtering through them to sparkle like burnished gold.  “Oh WOW! Oh my GOODNESS! These are the most beautiful leaves EVER!” Pepper stage-gasped, and though Tony appreciated the effort, he murmured for her to take it down a notch.  The Hulk didn’t seem terribly invested in Pepper’s reaction, however. He was engaged with some experiment of his own as he held the leaves close to Pepper’s face again. The results must’ve been satisfactory because he brightened and began bouncing at the knee. “Tree!” he told Tony, finger shifting between the leaves and Pepper’s hair. “Tree, tree!”  It took Tony a second, and then he laughed. “Oh, I get it. The leaves match her hair. Aw.” And they did blend in nicely against her strands of red-gold, the russet leaves just a shade darker when the Hulk clumsily tucked the branch behind her ear. Tony whistled lowly.  “Look at there. Our beautiful fall Pepper-tree. That’s nice, pal, good work.” 

Pepper gingerly touched the foliage threaded into her hair, her smile soft and full of wonder as she looked up into the Hulk’s expectant face. “That is nice,” she agreed, and Tony could tell she meant it now. She reached out, still a little cautious, and touched one of his broad hands. “Thank you, sweetheart.”  The Hulk looked down at her small hand, lain across two of his fingers. “Sweet-hurt,” he fumbled over the endearment, and Pepper and Tony laughed. 

A gentle breeze wafted through the park, wreathing the Hulk in a whirl of dancing leaves. He was tickled by it, clearly, turning from Pepper and Tony to chase after the colorful spiral as the wind carried it away. 

“Not so bad, is he?’ Tony said, letting his faceplate roll back into the helmet so Pepper could see his the smug twist of his mouth. 

She planted a light kiss there. “He’s not,” she agreed, and her blue eyes sparked as she watched the Hulk clap airborne leaves between his hands. “I have an idea. Here, put me up on that branch, and call Bru-- uh, call the Hulk over.”  Tony lifted her and placed her atop the limb she’d indicated, a sturdy protrusion that extended from the trunk of a towering sweetgum tree. It was blanketed in a spectrum of jewel-toned leaves and was one of the tallest trees in the park, high enough that it extended over the Hulk’s head when he answered Tony’s summon. He looked up into the branches, mouth pursing in bewilderment and brows crushing down as he spotted Pepper overhead.  “Tree? Sweet-hurt?” he inquired, utilizing the whole of his limited vocabulary to find out exactly what she was up to. “No? Hello?”  Tony heard Pepper giggle from where he hovered on the periphery, prepared to swoop in and catch her if she fell. She answered him by shaking the branches around her, loosening an array of foliage to descend over the Hulk. The leaves floated like feathers around him, deep purpled scarlets and flashes of burnt orange settling into his hair and along the wide shelf of his shoulders, and he stretched his fingers wide as he spun through the current of color.  He actually laughed, something Tony hadn’t heard before, gasping out deep peals of “oohoohoo!” Tony thought it sounded a bit like Jabba the Hutt, but with less malevolence behind it.  And Pepper was laughing, too, eyes crinkled at the corners, fully dedicated to her task of showering the Hulk with a flowing stream of leaves, watching him dance and play below her with such joyful tenderness that Tony breathed out, “God, you’d make such an amazing mother,” without even realizing he’d spoken aloud.  The scatter of leaves hitched for half-a-second, as Pepper stilled and her bright eyes caught Tony’s gaze. She tucked her chin with a coy little wink in his direction before rattling the branches again, but there was a heavy thud from below as the Hulk dropped to the seat of his pants amidst the piled leaves. He groaned and pressed his fists into his eyes. 

“What’s wrong?” Pepper called down to him, but Tony understood, and he gathered Pepper up to carry her to the ground. “Caffeine crash,” he said, the two of them touching down nearby and settling on either side of the Hulk. Tony rubbed one of his arms. “It’s okay, pal, go to sleep, that’s it.”  The Hulk put up only a nominal fight before succumbing, eyes drooping closed and shoulders slumping forward. His skin began to lighten and his musculature shrank, the stretched remnants of his pants falling away as his body returned to its smaller form. The gradual transition continued until Bruce Banner took his place, sitting naked between Tony and Pepper on a bed of autumn foliage.  “Unnnh,” he groaned, scrubbing at his face with both hands, and his eyes squinted open as he adjusted to the early afternoon sunlight. Bruce took in Iron Man and Pepper beside him, the empty surrounding park, the cushion of fall leaves. “Well,” he said, politely confused, “This seems more pleasant than usual, at least.”  Tony wrapped an arm around his shoulders, and Pepper hopped up to fetch one of the nearby picnic blankets that had been abandoned. She seemed to reconsider for a second before snatching up the cooler that sat alongside it, too, and returned to the boys.  She and Tony worked together to stretch the blanket around Bruce’s back and drape it over his lap. He thanked them, but didn’t appear overly concerned, and Tony knew he was far too accustomed to waking up naked by this point. He did seem happy to accept the apple juice box Pepper found in the cooler though, nursing it thirstily while Tony perused their pilfered lunch.  “You remember what happened?” Tony asked him, discovering a cut peanut butter and jelly sandwich and passing half of it to Bruce.  Bruce shook his head as he inhaled the sandwich. He always seemed to be starving after he came down from a transformation. “No, but my head is killing me. Weird. I don’t usually wake up with a headache.”  Tony and Pepper exchanged a knowing look. The caffeine shock and subsequent withdrawal would be pronounced in someone like Bruce, who hadn’t consumed caffeine in over a decade. Tony silently begged Pepper not to rat him out. He felt some things were best left unsaid, the current thing being that Tony had accidentally drugged Bruce and unleashed a hyperactive Hulk. That was definitely on a need-to-know basis, and, really, did Bruce need to know? 

Bruce was looking between them both as he drained his juice box, a glimmer of suspicion touching his dark eyes. “What? What happened?”  Tony could read Pepper’s face just as clearly as she could read his, and he watched her weigh the two options, wavering between truth and whatever gentle white lie they might cook up together. Come on, it’ll be fun, Tony wordlessly encouraged her, fully at the mercy of their mental telepathy here, and when she closed her eyes above a soft sigh, he knew he’d won her over. 

“A light fixture in the lab came loose and hit you in the head,” she told Bruce, brushing her hand through his curls in a show of sympathy that Tony knew was actually an apology for the fabricated account she was telling on his behalf. “Your... friend didn’t care for it.”  Bruce’s forehead crinkled as he tried to recall, but he shook his head again. “Huh. I can’t remember any of that. Last I knew, I was checking the experiment I ran last night, still drinking my morning coffee.”  Tony and Pepper grimaced at each other, but Bruce seemed to be reminded of something.  “Hey, Pepper,” he said, fishing around in the cooler after something else to eat. “How’d you like the pumpkin spice creamer?”  Pepper kept her eyes fixed on Tony, and Tony recognized in the hard line of her mouth that he’d be subjected to her wrath once they returned home and Bruce was removed to a safe distance. But her tone was warm, belying none of her concealed irritation, when she told Bruce, “It was great, thank you, sweetheart.”  Pepper rose and brushed leaves from her sweater as she retrieved her phone from her pocket, calling for a car to come pick them all up. But Tony watched Bruce where he remained frozen, one arm still in the cooler, brows lowered while his mind processed an unexpected bit of data. “Sweet-heart,” he repeated in a whisper to himself, enunciating each syllable as if speaking the word for the first time, and his mouth curled up with the satisfaction of learning something new. 

[coffeenfun]

Leaves

Marvel Writing Challenge: Oneshot-shit vs Creatorofwritings

Prompt: Leaves

Pairings: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 2100+

Tags: Angst, Canon, Civil War spoilers, The Winter Soldier is mentioned too.

A/N: I am open to writing a part 2 if this gets enough notes. (*gif not mine)@helllaellla @bovaria @marvel-ash @marvelfanfichq @givebuckyhisplums2k16 @starstar1012 @fairy-frills  @emilypkuzu  @annadier @buckystories @shamvictoria11 @totheendofthelinepal @thelazyorange  @creatorofwritings 

Key: italics if flash backs and notes.

Stays (sequel)

A knock on your door had seized you attention from the meal you were preparing. You put the knife in you hand on the counter and wiped your hands on the apron you always wore when cooking. You walked through the apartment to find out who had knocked. There were two locks on your door but you only kept one locked during the day. When you opened the door you were faced with none other than Captain America.

‘You’re.. You’re Captain America!’ Having never met a superhero before, your voice was slightly higher than normal and your body was stiff.

‘Yeah, but call me Steve’ he smiled for a second. Then it was gone. ‘Do you mind if I come in?’

‘Not at all’ you moved your body to the side to allow his large frame into your hallway. He walked into the living room and you followed. ‘Please, take a seat’. You re-entered the kitchen to take off your apron. ‘Would you like something?’

‘Some water would be fine’ his voice was flat, it sounded as if he was grieving. You handed him a tall glass of water, he sipped from it then proceeded to place it on the coffee table in the centre of the room. You sat opposite him.

‘So, is there a reason why an Avenger is in my apartment?’

‘I understand you knew Bucky’ his name still made your heart race. He hadn’t known, but even the mention of his name you make you smile. ‘He wanted you to have this.’ The blond held out a light blue book with a black binding. It had a thin, red ribbon holding it together. The fabric around the corners had frayed showing it had been used frequently. The pages were separated and creased, as if they had been caught in the rain. You took the book into your left hand and used your right to feel the cover, it was bumpy. You stared at it, eyes not moving once. ‘He also said he was sorry’.

Bucky was in front of you in the line of a coffee shop. he was scanning the menu and looked unsure of what to get. He was wearing a baseball cap and had long, brown hair tucked behind his ears. The front of his cap hid most of his face. He was mumbling the menu over and over to himself.

‘Normally, I go for the latte’, you spoke quite loudly to get his attention.

He turned to you after hearing your voice. The new angle and change of light showed how blue his eyes were.

‘Sorry?’ His voice was soft, his lips barely parted when he spoke.

‘I like lattes. Sometimes a mocha, if I’m treating myself’, he was still very confused as to why you were talking to him.

‘What can I get you, sir?’ The barista grabbed his attention and his neck snapped to face her.

‘Umm. A latte.’ When he said his order he turned to you, you nodded at him reassuringly. ‘Please’.

‘And for the girl?’

‘The same’, he spoke a little louder now, he had more confidence in his order this time.

‘Coming right up. Will you be paying together or separately?’

‘Together’, he beat you too it. You began to protest but he cut you off. ‘You recommended the drink, the least I can do is pay for yours’

‘Thank you, I appreciate it. My names Y/N.’ You held out your right hand and he took it. His handshake was firm but hesitant.

‘Bucky.’ You thought about the odd name.

‘2 lattes’, you were dragged out of your thoughts but a man holding two paper cups and facing you.

‘Seems our drinks are ready.’

‘Yes, they are.’

‘What do you mean “wanted”?’ You finally looked up at the Captain, never meeting his eyes.

‘Well he must have thought that you would like it’, he put a crease in between his eyebrows to show his confusion.

‘No. I mean past tense. “Wanted” not “wants”.’ There was a desperation in your voice. Your mind jumped to every possibility, every conclusion as to why the dark haired, blue eyed boy you met in a small coffee shop was getting Captain America to hand deliver a book to you.

He sighed, then took a deep breath to speak.

Bucky and you had got very close in the past few days. He told you his real name was James Buchanan Barnes but called himself Bucky. You had learnt that he had lived here when he was younger and just moved back. He lived in Russia most his life, for work. He’d tell you he worked for the government but never expand, you assumed that it was a boring job so not worth explaining. You had also learnt that he was 26, he lived in an apartment near yours and needed more friends. So you introduced him to your closest friends.

‘Quite the looker you’ve brought, Y/N.’ Your best friend, always a flirt. ‘Are you like dating or something?’

‘No. No. Nothing like that. Bucky’s new to the area and doesn’t know many people.’ You brushed off her comment. ‘And stop trying to get me to date someone!’

‘Hey, I’m just trying to find someone to itch that scratch of yours’, you Murmured something about how you could “scratch it yourself” that earned a giggle from her and Bucky. ‘Anyway, I’m Nichola and this is my boyfriend, Steven.’

‘Nice to meet you.’

‘Whatever Bucky told you about his past, it wasn’t true. I know you might think that he lied to you, but it was to protect you.’ His voice was understanding. His posture became more relaxed, his elbows rested on his thighs and his hands held each other.

‘But what do you meant “wanted”?’ You still wanted to know if what you had thought was true.

‘Y/N, this isn’t going to be easy to understand but remember it wasn’t Bucky’s fault.’

‘What wasn't’ you hated that Steve had drawn out his explanation. You just wanted to know.

‘He was forced to assassinate people, for hydra.’ At that moment everything you once believed melted away and you were left with nothing. ‘He was my best friend growing up, he was kidnapped in the war and I saved him. made him a howling commando, he was my sniper. He had saved my life more than anyone else, before the serum he was practically my body guard.’

‘Yeah, I heard you never backed down from a fight’. You stopped his speech, there was only so much information you could take about the man you had thought you knew in such a short time.

‘Right. But he fell off that train and somehow survived. He lost his arm but Hydra replaced it with a metal one.’

‘His arm was metal? That’s why he never took off his glove’, he nodded in reply.

‘He was brainwashed and his memory was wiped. He was given the same serum as me and made to kill for 70 years. He didn’t have any choice in this, he doesn’t want any of this.’

‘So you like plants?’ Bucky had pointed out the obvious after you entered a botanical garden. You decided to show him all your favourite places around the city.

‘Yeah! I love them. See this one? This is an Acanthus Plant. Ancient Greek legend says that after a young girl’s death her possessions were placed in a basket and it’s leaves engulfed them. They inspired the leaf pattern you see in so many Greek buildings.’

You looked over to see him staring at you intensely. Listening to your every word. It made your heart warm that he enjoyed learning about plants.

‘And what else?’

‘I don’t know anything else about this one, but I do know about this.’ You walked over to a group of leaves poking out of the ground. ‘They’re called mandrake. So many cultures have different views on it.’ You looked over to him for permission to continue, of which he gave. ‘It can make you sleepy but lots of civilisations link it to sexual behaviour. For example, in the book Genesis, Jacob’s wife, Leah, gets its roots to become pregnant. Arabs think that it’s evil because sexual behaviour is wrong in their culture. Some Christians associated it with devil worship. Witches apparently made images of their victims from its roots. Other people used to believe that when pulled out of the ground its roots scream.’

He soaked up all the information like a child on the first day of school. He asked you more about the plants you saw. You gave him all the information you had, you were so excited that he had this interest in common with you.

Every time you were with him and saw a plant that you had some information about you told him. It slowed your travels and made you late to meet people more often than not. But you loved talking about it, and you loved that he let you.

But then one day he had to leave. Said he was leaving the country and it was for your safety. You didn’t want to let him go but you couldn’t do anything to get him back. His mind was already made up.

‘So he’s a prisoner of war, who was torchered and forced to do things against his will, that’s what you’re saying?’ He nodded at your answer and smiled at your view of the situation. ‘But how is he so young?’

‘He was cryogenically frozen for most the time he was with them. He only woke up for missions and training.’ You still stared at the book never looking at him in the eye. The red ribbon tickled in between your fingers as you played with it. ‘That’s where he is now, in cryo. That’s why I used past tense’, even though you heard him you faced downward. ‘I should leave you alone, see what’s in that book. If you ever need to talk my number’s on this card. You were the only person he mentioned, he must have really liked you’. At some point he had got up and left.

You looked at the table to see a small, white card with the name ‘Steve Rogers’ in bold and a number. Then your attention went back to the thing that Bucky had given you. That book.

You sat on your bed cross legged like you did with him. And slowly untied the ribbon. The fabric moving over and under itself was agonisingly slow and when you finally had undone it it took just as long to turn to the first page.

On there was a dried out leaf, from the first plant you ever taught him about. The Acanthus. Under it was its name, the date and a small note that read: Today Y/N took me to a garden and taught me about plants. This one is in Greek mythology.

The next had a leaf too. It was camomile. The date was the 22nd of July and the note was: Today Y/N wore that red dress, the one she was wearing the first time we met. It made her cheeks look rosier.

The next also had a leaf, a name, a date and a note. This one read: Y/N wore her hair up in a bun today and suggested I should do the same. Her neck is so long and elegant. I wonder how soft it is.

Each page, each leaf, each note made you long for him more and more. More than you thought was possible. More than you thought you were capable of.

The second to last note made tears fall from your face uncontrollably, you were careful not to get any on the book as not to smudge his handwriting.

I think I’m in love with her, I love the way her eyes light up when she talks about plants. I love the way she drinks hot coffee, even in the summer, and eats ice cream in the winter. I love that she hasn’t asked about my arm. I love that she cooks with me. I love that she lets me choose what I want. But most of all, I love that she’s taught me to love.

But it was the last instalment that made you drop everything and weep for him.

She can’t love me. I’m a monster. And they’re going to find me soon. If they hurt her I don’t know what I’d do, if they made me hurt her. I have to leave her. I don’t want to, God knows I don’t, but I have to. I’m in love with her.

You desperately flicked through the rest of the book to find no more leaves. No more dates. No more notes.

Except for the final page where a single word writing in black, shaky handwriting sat in the middle of the page. 

Sorry.