#suncatcher cluster

[follyglass]

Follyglass : Riches

Mrs. Kipp’s morning routine was upset when she noticed a man standing in her cutting garden, knee deep in her cosmos. She peered out of her kitchen window and watched him as he just….stood, eyes closed, softly swaying, hugging a small bundle against his chest with one arm while his other hand gently twirled the sun-catcher that hung from her birch. It threw arcs of spiking rainbows around the garden, ricocheting off of the glass-stack flowers her sister had made, and spiking from the gazing ball to her neighbor’s properties.

Her mouth thinned.

This wasn’t a public art installation. It was her own little paradise, curated with the rare flowers and objects that bloomed a ‘wow!’ in her mind, driven by something she had once read long ago – only have things in your home that you find beautiful and/or useful. While Mrs. Kipp did have many useful things, they were vastly outnumbered by her sparkling trinkets, so much so that her little house had become a bit of a local whimsical landmark, even earning a name: the Googaw Gardens.

As such, she had garden intruders. In her mind they were teenagers who dared each other to visit the witch’s house, not that she had ever seen them, but she noticed the rare occasion when small sun-catchers were missing, or there was a beaten down trail through her pansies leading to the gazing ball. Sometimes, the gazing ball was knocked off its pedestal. Until this morning, Mrs. Kipp had never caught anyone. As she strode through her back door and out onto the porch, she was steeling herself to verbally lash the man standing in her garden.

The screen door slammed. He popped his eyes open in alarm, then made a face equally steely and pleading, then darted his eyes to the bundle he cradled and back to her.

His obvious concern halted her march, and softened her jaw. She wondered at how long he had been trying to get his baby to sleep, and how old the baby was, and what did he name the baby? Then she wondered what it was with parents thinking that the mere act of having a child seemed to wring them of their common courtesy and traipse through someone’s cosmos. She bit back this thought when she noticed the man making frantic eyes at her and then quickly darting his gaze to her hostas, which were trembling.

A rabbit, probably.

But then Mrs. Kipp saw the triangular ears of a cat. One of the Donaldson’s finch-killers, then.

The man stayed focused on the quaking hostas while he continued to spin the suncatcher, sending colors and light skipping across the daisies. The cat paused, lowering its head, then sprinted at the man, scrambling up his leg and hissing at him while pulling viciously at his bundle with its little hands.

Hands. What kind of strange creature was attacking this man?

Mrs. Kipp covered half the distance to help the man (how she could offer assistance she didn’t rightly know, but there was that whole incident with the raccoon where she was a clear victor), when he pleaded with her to stop. “It’s ok,” he said gently. She didn’t know if his utterance was meant solely for her, or for the cat-thing that now crouched on his shoulder, pupils blackened and a snarl jittering across its mouth.

“It’s ok, it’s ok, it’s ok,” he said in a singsong.

She watched in shock as the man carefully ruffled the baby bundle open, and the cat-thing stared intensely, longingly, with huge green eyes at the baby. Mrs. Kipp could now see the baby, too. It wasn’t human. It was, however, the ugliest baby that she had ever seen, so much so that she was now worried about the state of the milk in her refrigerator, for the baby was so sour-faced that she feared the whole bottle curdled.

After inspecting the bundle, the cat-thing on the man’s shoulder produced what looked like an obscenely large old diamond cluster earring (from where, Mrs. Kipp didn’t know, as the little monster was not decent enough to wear clothing), shoving it against the man’s face with one hand while grabbing for the baby with the other.

Ah. A trade.

The man then slowly offered the baby to the cat-thing, which the cat-thing cautiously took and held fervently to its thin chest while still pushing the bright diamond cluster against the man’s cheek. Gently, delicately, the man took the earring, and only then did the cat-thing jump from his shoulder and ran through the cutting garden, the baby still clutched closely to its chest. They disappeared into the shadows under the rhododendrons.

After a moment, the strange man set the gemstones down on the edge of the birdbath, then gingerly stepped out of her cosmos and towards Mrs. Kipp. Only after her daisies stilled and she was absolutely sure the little creatures were gone did she say anything. “Aren’t you going to take your payment?” She gestured at the diamond cluster he had left on the birdbath.

“Oh. No. I’m not actually going to take it. I just needed to know that he was the child’s actual father.” He raised his brow in a can-you-believe-this way, “Other goblins would’ve just stolen the baby. Parents, however, will offer riches to recover their heart’s treasure. It’s just rhinestones, but it means a lot to goblins.”

“Goblins?”

“Yeah. I had found the goblin baby two lanes over, and ran over here.” He shook his head, “Sorry for trespassing, but I knew Googaw Gardens was my best shot at getting the baby back to its father.” He glanced around at all of the sparkling glass ornaments nested among the green, then addressed Mrs. Kipp again, “I’m guessing by your expression that you didn’t actually know your house is a goblin’s dream?”

“Until today, I didn’t even know that goblins existed, nevermind that they dream.”

“Well. Now you know. And now that you know, are you going to take all of this down?” He gestured around at all of the glass and color.

Mrs. Kipp never did take down her sparkling trinkets; her suncatchers and her gazing balls and her whirly-twirlies stayed, and she even put up more. When she thought of it, Mrs. Kipp even put little rhinestone bracelets on the birdbath as an offering. They were often gone within a night. Goblins existed. Her home was magic. And she could respect anyone that found great joy in something as simple as sparkle.

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[crushedbyhyperbole]

Some Like it Saucy

Summary:  Cooped up in the compound while the team conference with Secretary ‘Toss-pot’ Ross, you decide to cook and decorate.  What better way to fill the team’s hearts and bellies than a Marrakech-themed evening with Bucky’s favourite food - Moroccan tagine.  He’s got other ideas for the perfect dessert though.

Words:  1.7k

A/N:  Written for @buckybarnesbeans​ leap year challenge filling the dialog prompt:  “Which one of you Bollocks thinks my chicken is dry?  You? You?”  (In bold).  This is a Bucky/Reader fic using my Suncatcher reader character... yes the one whose power is rainbows XD  Thank you @sassy-pelican​ for giving this a read to check for fuck-ups <3

Warnings:  Bad language.  Tiny bit of light smut / non-graphic smut. Light on reader insecurities towards the end. 

The living areas of the compound were quiet and hollow; the whole team was gone and you were left alone.  It felt eerie. Like the rest of the world had vanished and you were the sole inhabitant of a world once teeming with life.  You shivered at the thought of such endless solitude.

There were remnants of their existence, of course.  The alluring yet comforting smell of Bucky’s soap in your bathroom this morning, a half-drank mug of coffee on the common room table, a messily folded newspaper with a half-completed crossword puzzle, and an open packet of Tony’s favourite trail mix hidden in the magazine rack.  It wasn’t like they had been snapped out of existence or anything, they were all at a conference with Secretary Ross.

Dickhead, you thought.

Ever since that mission in London where you picked up some amusing English insults that you later took pleasure in using on Secretary Ross, your absence at debriefings and conferences involving him had been, let’s say, strongly advised.  Needless to say, Secretary Ross didn’t appreciate you calling him a wanker and telling him that he talked a load of bollocks.

It had been a fun mission though.  The team had been brought in to help MI5 foil a plot to steal the crown jewels and reunite the nine pieces of the famous Cullinan diamond, which occult conspiracy theorists say was a stone of great power.  Cullinan I, in particular, was an exquisite stone. Housed in the majestic sceptre with the cross, it had piqued your interest purely for its unusual refractive index; there was something about that stone, you could feel it with your powers as you pushed your influence through the security case to interact with the stone.

Goosebumps broke out across your skin and you shook yourself free of the memory.  The eeriness of the compound seemed to have increased since invoking the feeling of the power of the stone but you cast it aside as best you could, latching on to the annoyance you felt that Secretary Ross was robbing you of a lazy morning in bed with Bucky.  Tosser!

 Boredom made your bones itch.  You needed to do something other than going back to your room to masturbate until everyone came back, so you decided to cook dinner.  Moroccan chicken tagine. It was one of Bucky’s favourite meals, and since everyone was suffering the presence of Secretary Toss-pot, you figured they deserved a reward.

 Delicious smells of savoury meat, fragrant spices and sweet apricots filled the kitchen as the team emerged from the elevator.  You were finishing up by adding a handful of chopped coriander leaves to the tagine, humming a tune while you worked, when strong arms snaked around your waist and a beardy kiss pressed against your temple.  You’d know the feel and smell of Bucky anywhere.

“Hey, baby!”  You smiled and pressed back against him.  “How is Secretary Tosser?”

“You didn’t miss anything good.”  He chuckled in your ear, smooching down your neck only to pinch your skin between his teeth playfully.  You adored that you were both still very much in love after years of being together. “He finally fired that P.A. who wrote that you called him a wanker into the meeting transcript that time.”

“No!”  You gasped.  That woman was a legend in her own right.  “That’s fucking terrible -oooo! I hate that man!”

“Relax, Rainbow Brite,” Tony appeared beside you, “I hired her this afternoon so she’ll take notes for all of our meetings with Ross when he’s here.”  He beamed, lifting the lid of your tagine and groaning with pleasure as the steam rose. “That smells amazing.” 

“Thanks boss.”  You grinned, feeling the fuzzy warmth of his praise and the dark satisfaction that Ross wouldn’t be able to bully that poor P.A. anymore.

“You made this?  Should I be worried?”  Tony feigned horror. “Barnes is still alive so your cooking can’t be all that bad-oof!”  He grunted as you flapped the back of your hand into his gut, hard. 

“Stark!”  You growled in warning.

“Okayyy, good talk.”  He bolted with a cheeky grimace.

Bucky held you tight to his chest so you couldn’t give chase and assault Tony with your wooden spoon.  “Easy, tiger.” He turned you in his embrace and pressed a needy kiss to your lips, knowing just how to calm your fiery temper.

 The team came together for dinner and you all sat on floor cushions around a low table to eat.  You had enlisted the help of Vision to create your Marrakech themed night and you had both outdone yourselves.  Cannibalising one of the conference rooms had been a stroke of genius and, in your opinion, it was a far better use for the room than boring meetings.  The dim glow of the ornate iron lanterns and the holographic fire courtesy of FRIDAY, the makeshift marquee made from brightly coloured fabrics, the smell from the food you’d made, and the soft but authentic music made you feel like you’d stepped through a portal into a souk lounge in the heart of Morocco.

“Next time, let’s not invite the others.”  Bucky murmured in your ear as he leaned in to give you a kiss after you had all settled and began to eat.  “I want you,” his voice husky with need, “right here on these cushions.”

You swallowed hard, looking around to see if anyone had caught his words, excited by his brazen proposition.  Chatter and laughter continued around you, oblivious to your rising blush.

“Naked and wrapped in colourful silks.”  His lips brushed the tender skin below your ear and you shivered, setting a short-lived prismatic display of your power against the fabrics hanging around the group.  You felt his smirk, he was doing this on purpose. “Satin skin under my hands, hot and needy as I love you so painfully slow.”

“Bucky…”  You sighed wantonly as the imagery overtook you.

You could almost feel him stroking his hands up your legs as they parted for him, silk kissing your skin as he bared your body to the air.  Goosebumps despite the warmth of a real fire, and the golden glow mirroring the fire in his eyes. Each gasp. Each sigh. They were percussion to the music he played with your body.  Sweat-slicked skin adhering you two together as hips rolled and pleasure filled you to bursting. His hands, both firm and gentle, exploring and worshiping you like you were Aphrodite herself.  Never truly allowing you to come down from the heights he drove you to, never relenting his most devoted worship, not even when the names of other gods spilled from your lips and you cried out in ecstasy so loud you could split the sky.

 “Miss Sun?”  The words feel foreign; soft but still plenty sharp to snap you back to reality.

You’d eaten with the team, smiled at them when they’d thanked you for making a wonderful dinner, and had been clearing away dishes in a complete daze.  Across the kitchen, Bucky smirked at you from where he was piling plates into the dishwasher. That little shit knew exactly what he’d done.

“Miss Sun?”  Vision looked concerned as he laid a hand gently on your shoulder.  “Is everything alright?”

“I’m good.”  You mentally shook yourself, making a mental note to torment Bucky later.  “I’m aaaalll good.”

Vision nodded curtly, pausing a moment before he addressed the reason he’d approached you in the first place.

“I’ve taken the liberty of suggesting an amendment for your tagine recipe, to increase the sauce to meat ratio while leaving the delicate balance of flavours intact.”

“Why?  What’s wrong with my recipe?” 

“Nothing is wrong.”  He smiled warmly. “A comment was made that more sauce would have been welcome.”

“More sauce, huh?”  You slid your tray of crockery onto the nearest counter and picked up a tray of baked spiced orange pastries and mint sugared pineapple pieces.  “I’ll take it under advisement.”

 When you delivered dessert and settled on your cushion next to Bucky, he squeezed your thigh reassuringly as the chatter quietened while the team tucked into the delicious moist pastries.  He was about to tell you he was proud of you for not allowing your irritation to flare but he didn’t get the chance. He knew you were insecure, underneath the foul mouth and the bravado was a girl who needed reassurance that she was more than just good enough.

“So…”  You cocked your head as the eyes of the whole team fell on you.  “Which one of you bollocks thinks my chicken is dry?”  You pointed your spoon around the table starting at Sam.  “You?” He was always the first to talk shit, even if it was just a joke.  “You?” Natasha fell under your gaze.

“No one said it was dry, sweetie.”  She smiled kindly, seeing your outburst for what it was – you really needed to know you’d done a good job.  You’d felt useless being stuck at the compound while the rest of the team had meet and greets with officials.  No matter how boring they really were, you felt left out. You’d had Vision for company but he didn’t share your feelings. “I just said I’d kill for more of that awesome sauce and Vision, being the pragmatic type, figured he’d save lives and help you update the recipe.”

You huffed a little but relaxed as Bucky laid his arm across your shoulder.  “You know she likes things a bit saucy, babe.” He chuckled.

“She’s not the only one.”  You whispered and elbowed him in the ribs playfully, earning a wink from him.  “Earlier you said something about silk and sex, and I expect you to deliver.”

Bucky was up on his feet immediately, pulling you up and slinging you over his shoulder while you squealed in protest.  “If you’ll excuse us,” he addressed the room, “we have a recipe to discuss.”

“Sounds like a recipe for buns in the oven.”  Sam scoffed around a mouthful of pineapple.

“Don’t tempt fate.”  Nat scolded.  “They haven’t multiplied yet.”

Bucky snagged one of the silks that made up the make-shift marquee and waved the red and orange material like a flag as he carried you giggling from conference room Marrakech.  He was a man of his word and you could expect nothing but exquisite adoration.  Your skin tingled with anticipation.  The silk.  His hands.  His lips and tongue.  You moaned lustfully.

As the door of your room closed firmly and you were laid gently on your bed, the love in his eyes engulfed you whole.

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[trashfor-imagines]

How I Met Your Mother Father: Haikyū Edition! | 3

Ft. Daichi / Sugawara / Asahi / K. Ukai

Summary: How you met your husband-o! This is also the last part. Let me know if you’d like to see any dating / wedding / married life scenarios with any of the boys I featured in this HIMYMF series. I’m also not afraid to write something a lil spicy spicy dirty for these boys either, you just have to reply / message me what you want. ;) Warnings: None. Sorry for any typos. I’ll be going back and editing. :)

Part 1: Ft. Kuroo / Bokuto / Akaashi / Yaku Part 2: Ft. Oikawa / Iwaizumi / Ushijima / Tendo / Semi

-

Daichi Sawamura

A shove from behind sent you flying forward onto the ground, rolling your ankle on the way down. A cry escaped your lips from the pain and tears pricked at your eyes as you felt your knee get skimmed from the sidewalk.

A series of shouts became louder and were fast approaching. Glancing up, you watched as the person who had knocked you over scramble to his feet.

You tried to move out of the way quickly as a police officer tackled them back down. Another officer slowed to a jog, kneeling beside you while a third went to help the first officer make the arrest for petty theft from what you could tell.

“I’m Officer Daichi. Are you alright?” he asked, resting a comforting hand on your shoulder. He had sweet brown eyes and a kind smile on his face. Looking him over, you felt your mouth go a bit dry.

Hot cop.

You were today years old when you realized that men in uniform could do it for you.

“I... my ankle hurts,” you managed to say.

His eyes widened and he looked at your feet. He asked for permission before checking out your ankle. The hiss you made when he barely touched you told him it was most likely a sprain.

“Let’s get you to the hospital. Since you were injured, I’d like to get a statement for some paperwork. Is that ok?”

You nodded, allowing him to help you up. He was extremely thoughtful and careful with you as he took you to the hospital, holding your hand and making sure you didn’t place too much weight on your injury.

He stayed with you, even after he was done with his paperwork, and the two of you conversed.

Conversation with him was so easy and felt natural. He was quite enigmatic and mature, but every once in a while he’d let his silliness slip, telling jokes to make you laugh.

You talked about everything from your childhoods, your likes and dislikes, beliefs and motivations, work, and honestly no topic felt out of bounds.

When he offered to walk you home, you knew he was doing more than just his civic duty, but you couldn’t say anything other than yes.

You wanted more time with him.

“Miss (Y/N),” he spoke, taking his uniform hat off and holding it in his hands. “I don’t want to abuse my position, but could I freely call you and take you to dinner some time?”

And that was how you and Daichi Sawamura met, confidently marrying a year and a half later.

Sugawara Koshi

It was your first day of school.

Teaching that is.

You moved to Miyagi for an open teaching position for the First Grade.

Last year you were a teaching assistant, however the school didn’t have a classroom for you or a position teaching First Graders so you had to look elsewhere for work.

Invigorated by the excitement of your future here, you were all in and threw yourself into your lesson plans completing them within the first month before school began.

When you saw your classroom, you spent a two days decorating the ceiling of your classroom to reflect the solar system, hanging homemade planets and sticking glow-in-the-dark stars carefully so if you looked closely you could see the constellations.

You had 30 students, so you purchased picture frames, planning for the students to paint or draw something so you could hang them up on the blank wall. You had other art projects for the kids so they could decorate the classroom throughout the year, like making suncatchers and growing their own plant.

On the chalkboard, you wrote out the aisatsu (morning greeting) you wanted your kids to learn, as well as their homework for the first day: “Good morning. If we try, we can do it. Let’s do our best today.”

With your classroom organized how you liked and prepped for tomorrow, you headed to the teacher’s room to review your lesson plans.

The teacher’s desks were grouped in fours and personalized in their own ways. On your desk were a couple of succulents, textbooks for your classes, a cute twin bell clock, an architect desk lamp, and a framed photo of you and your parents the day you graduated from university. Your office supplies were neatly locked away in your desk drawers.

“Hello, you must be (Y/N) Sensei. Welcome,” sounded a kind voice across from you. “I’m Sugawara.”

Looking up, you watched as a man with light grey hair, hazel-brown eyes with a beauty mark under his left eye, and a gentle smile, set his things down on the desk in front of you. Quickly you stood, bowing politely before extending your hand. “It’s so nice to met you, Sugawara Sensei.”

“Just Sugawara will be fine,” he laughed, shaking your hand.

You smiled sweetly. “(Y/N) is fine for me as well.”

“First Grade as well then?” He motioned to the cluster of four desks you were a part of. “We get grouped together by year.”

You nodded, sitting down when he also made a move to sit. “That’s right. I’m really excited. I can’t wait to meet the other teachers.”

“Well between us,” he pointed at the desk beside you, “Yamasaki’s much older than us and usually sleeps at his desk.” He then pointed at the desk beside him. “And Nakamura is also older than us and I’ve noticed she doesn’t get along with other women.”

Your lips formed an O, surprised at this insider information. “Thank you for the warning.”

“We’ve got to look out for each other,” he replied, tidying a few things before picking up his briefcase. “See you tomorrow, (Y/N).”

You could hardly sleep that night, excitement refusing to let your mind rest. When morning came, you were a bit early to school, a coffee and variety of pastries in hand. Dropping your things off at your desk, you left a note on the pastry box, letting Sugawara, Yamasaki, and Nakamura know they should help themselves, before dropping a few things off at your classroom desk and heading to the school gates to line up with the rest of the teachers.

“(Y/N)! Over here.” Looking around, you spotted Sugawara waving at you, that same gentle smile on his face.

“Good morning, Sugawara.”

“Good morning. I hope you have a great first day.”

“Thank you! You as well.”

You enjoyed greeting the students as the filed in through the school gates. They were so cute with their bright yellow bucket hats and wide eyes. It was almost too easy to tell who were first graders.

“Cute, right?”

You glanced at Sugawara and matched his happy smile. “Absolutely!”

When the gates closed, Sugawara asked to walk you to your classroom. It turned out his class was right next to yours.

You went through the morning routine with your class before helping them get settled in and assigning cubby holes and desks.

“Okay students, let’s get along, ok?”

“Okay (Y/N) Sensei!” You almost swooned at how sweet they were.

“The best way to get along is to get to know each other right?”

“Right, (Y/N) Sensei!”

“Today we’re going to go outside and learn how to make friends. Then at the end of the day, you’ll vote on your favorite person to be the class representative. Does that sound good?”

“Yes, (Y/N) Sensei!”

Lining your students up, they quietly held hands and walked in a straight line as you directed them to the grassy school yard that your classroom over looked, a volleyball in hand.

Having them form a big circle with you, class began with introductions around the circle consisting of their names, age, what was a dream they had for their future, what their favorite food was, and what was their favorite hobby.

Sitting in the grass, you started a game where you rolled the volleyball to a student and you would ask them a question about themselves, then they’d roll the ball to someone else and ask them a question. This game went on for a few hours and they were having so much fun, laughing and getting along.

Glancing up at the school building, you thought about how lucky you were to have such a sweet and well behaved class. A figure in a window caught your eye. It was Sugawara. He had opened the window and was leaning against the sill, grinning down at you.

He made a gesture down to you and your class, as if asking “What are you doing?” You bit your bottom lip as you smiled, throwing your hands up and shrugging back at him. Shaking his head, he ducked back inside his classroom, the smile never leaving his face.

Soon, the class went back inside and had lunch. Nap time was after that. Finally at the end of the day, you had them draw pictures you could frame and hang on the wall, and held a class election.

When school was over, you reminded them to do their history book reading for tomorrow and said goodbye to each student individually as they left the classroom, allowing them to hug your legs and say goodbye while you gave them a gentle pat on the head and told each one they did great today.

Leaning against the door frame, you sighed softly, smiling as the last of them disappeared.

“They’re great aren’t they?”

Glancing over your shoulder, you smiled as Sugawara approached you, leaning on the door frame opposite you, the toes of your shoes touching. “They really are.”

It was the end of your first week and the day ended the same, with each student hugging you goodbye and you telling them they did great. And just like every day this week, Sugawara leaned on your classroom’s door frame and chatted with you.

“You really have a special way with them.”

“Yeah?” You tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“It’s true. Even the other first grade students have started whispering about you.”

“W-What? Really?"

He began to list off the whispers he’s heard. “(Y/N) Sensei’s so kind. (Y/N) Sensei’s so fun. (Y/N) Sensei’s cool. (Y/N) Sensei makes me feel good. (Y/N) Sensei’s the best.” He paused, glancing up and meeting your eyes, “(Y/N) Sensei’s beautiful.”

Your heart skipped a beat, a faint blush staining your cheeks. “Oh.”

“I’m inclined to agree with our students,” his voice dropping low so no one could overhear.

And that’s how you met Sugawara and began dating, marrying two years later.

Asahi Azumane

“Who’s that guy?” you asked your friend who was the project manager running this photoshoot. You adjusted the settings on your camera, eyes dancing between the numbers you were programming and the man in question.

He was insanely tall and physical build was quite intimidating. You wondered if he was a delinquent in school as you snapped a series of test photos, using him as your subject.

“Asahi Azumane. He’s the apparel designer. He created the line you’re shooting today,” she responded, barely glancing up from her phone. “And don’t even think about it.”

“What? Are you worried about me? Is he a bad boy?” you asked, wiggling your brows at her in jest.

She paused and looked you in the eye seriously, before bursting into a loud fit of laughter and walking away. “Let’s get this started already!”

An irritated expression settled onto your features before you cast Asahi another glance, snapping a few more candid photographs of him.

The shoot was long. Drama with the models. You weren’t concerned though. Your rate was hourly and they were paying you big yen for this spread. No, you were more concerned with the tall babe hanging out at the snack table.

Adjusting your camera strap like you were wearing a crossbody purse, you moseyed over to the refreshments, picking up an assortment of things before standing next to the man casually.

“So you designed this line?” you asked. You almost dropped your plate when he jumped in surprise.

“Aha... Sorry, just, you’re asking me?” He smiled awkwardly, clearly embarrassed of his reaction.

You looked at him incredulously, before laughing, gently bumping your hip against the spot just below his own. Good grief he was so much taller than you. He was absolutely your type.

“Yeah. I don’t usually get to talk to the designers when I do these types of shoots. It’s usually an assistant, project manager, or a marketing rep, so this is a really cool moment for me.”

He smiled with more confidence, relaxing visibly.

“So... Tell me about what your vision for this whole line is.”

Just as he became fully confident and the two of you had finally gotten the conversation flowing freely, it had been thirty minutes and it was time to wrap up. You kept in mind your conversation with Asahi and used your knowledge and skillset to capture what it was he envisioned.

Unfortunately, you didn’t get to speak to him again.

You didn’t reach out to your friend to bother her about Asahi; you just weren’t that type of girl. Instead you resigned yourself to sighing thoughtfully as you daydreamed about him every once in a while, staring at the photos you’d taken of him in secret.

It was a week after the shoot when your friend called you to meet at her office to pick up your check. You were wondering if you should dress to embarrass her or not when you realized that you might run into Asahi in the same building. Fashionable it was; you even added heels.

You walked confidently into your friend’s office building, slipping into the elevator and pressing the button for her floor.

Glancing up as the elevator sounded, you sighed - someone was just getting on. You wore a bored expression as the doors opened, but the person standing there immediately changed your attitude.

He looked at you with realization and smiled as he stepped in. “Miss Photographer,” he spoke, his voice friendly and kind.

“Mr. Designer,” you greeted cheekily.

“It’s good to see you again.” He pressed for the floor above your destination. “I saw the photos you submitted. I really loved them. The pictures were exactly what I was hoping for. And I heard marketing is really impressed with your work. I might have overheard them tell the project manager she should hire you again.”

“I think you should give yourself more credit,” you spoke, leaning your head back against the elevator wall. “I wouldn’t have changed my approach if I hadn’t spoken to you.”

Asahi blushed and the two of you started to banter, but you were an observant person and you almost wondered if this man realized he was flirting back with you.

He gravitated closer to you, also leaning against the wall beside you. You watched from the corner of your eyes as he shifted closer and closer before his arm finally touched your own.

Bingo.

The elevator bell pinged your stop and you quickly pulled a business card from your purse and slipped it into his front pants pocket bravely.

“Call me and ask me out, okay? Or I’ll come down here looking for you,” you teased, walking backwards out of the elevator.

“W-What?” he floundered, blushing as he watched you with wide eyes.

You sent him a wink, “Don’t let me wait too long, okay?”

The doors closed and you were absolutely pleased with yourself.

And that’s how you met Asahi Azumane, going on a date two days later and marrying three years after, but this time, you didn’t have to ask.

Ukai Keishin

“Excuse me, do you have-”

“We’re out,” was the dull and bored cut off reply from the employee, his feet propped up on the counter and his face hidden by the newspaper he was reading.

Are you kidding me? Aha!

You snatched the bandaids and alcohol wipes off the shelf, walking up and setting the items on the counter. Your voice was monotone as you spoke, “Found it. Thanks for your help.”

He lowered his newspaper to peek at you before bursting out in large gestures, scrambling to his feet. “Is, uh, is this it for you?” It was almost cute how he was trying to be cool.

“A pack of Cherry cigarettes,” you replied, pulling out your coin purse.

“You know... it’s a bad habit,” he said, grabbing a pack and placing it on the counter.

“Says the man who reeks of smoke.”

“Touché,” he replied, staring at the counter and realizing he definitely messed up his shot.

With a sigh, you brushed your hair behind your ear, “They’re not for me.”

“Oh...” He tried to peek at you inconspicuously. “Boyfriend?”

“If you must know, they’re for my father.”

“Oh!” he visibly perked up at that. You had to restrain yourself from laughing at him.

“So what’s my total?” you asked when he hadn’t said anything for a while.

“Right. It’s 950¥.”

“Thank you,” you replied, pulling out some coins and bills.

“Keishin! Keishin, is that a young woman I hear?” a voice from the back room called out. There was some shuffling of footsteps and the man behind the counter visibly stiffened. “Keishin! Is she single?”

“Mom! Please!” he yelled back.

You bit your lip, trying not to laugh, but you couldn’t stop your lips from stretching into a smile.

“Keishin! Don’t yell!” An older woman poked her head out, her eyes landing on you, “She’s beautiful!” She quickly beelined to you around the counter, bowing deeply to you.

“Oh... thank... you,” you froze, unsure of what was happening. You glanced at the man behind the counter - Keishin, you assumed - who looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him whole.

“Young miss, my son looks rough, but he’s really a good man. He’s not the smartest, but he’s very strong and has a good heart. He’ll treat his future wife very good. Please consider him.” She stayed bowed and it was getting extremely uncomfortable.

He leaned over the counter and whispered, “She won’t get up unless you give her an answer. Sorry about this.”

You observed the way he looked at his mother and it struck a heartstring. He didn’t look mad or annoyed, or anything of the sort. You could just see that he loved his mother very much.

Turning back to older woman before you, you sighed softly, resigned, and bowed to her in return. “Ma’am, I will consider him.”

The two of them looked up at you in shock.

“WAIT YOU WILL?!”

And that’s how you met Ukai Keishin, marrying exactly one year later.

[ultraswissarmywife]

Hi Ultraswissarmywife - hope your weekend has been great! What about #28? Or if you don't feel like answering that one, #2?

Hiya @tacoguy1166!  My weekend has been lovely, thank you.  And I’m going to go ahead and answer both of your questions!  

28:  What Makes You Happy?  Oh, so many things!  A few examples are music, rainbows and light through suncatchers, bacon, wind chimes blowing in the breeze, fresh bread, long walks in the woods, tacos, hugs, watching someone light up from the inside when they talk about their passions, stickers, pizza, seeing people succeed when they weren’t sure they could, and artwork that touches my soul.  

2:  Do You Have Freckles?  I do!  I used to wish I had the kind of freckles that are like sprinkles, covering huge swaths of skin, but alas.  I have small clusters instead, which I’ve grown to appreciate as their own kind of beautiful. 

Thank you so much for the great ask!  I’d love to know your answers, too, if you want to play along.  

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[crushedbyhyperbole]

Good Ole Stuffing

A/N:  For @xxloki81xx​ ‘s 2019 Xmas writing challenge, filling the song prompt:  It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas - Michael Bublé.  Thanks for organising this badass challenge

This is a Bucky Barnes x Reader w/ powers fic where their relationship is established.  The story is set a couple of years after another of my fics, Disco Ball Diva.  I think I might make a cluster of fics with this reader character because she’s hilarious and sassy as fuck.

Read Disco Ball Diva  |  Main Masterlist  |  Mobile Masterlist

Words:  3.3k

Warnings:  18+ only please... Smut, threats of bodily harm, and terrible terrible language.

Summary:  The early arrival of Christmas and a prank courtesy of Sam ‘turkey boy’ Wilson ruins your super-chill fall vibe.  Bucky makes it up to you, and let’s face it, his recipe for stuffing is right up your street.

November 1st.  You sighed blissfully.  This day always felt so peaceful, like all the tension that built up over the course of a year just seeped away leaving behind a fresh, crisp, new-feeling world much like the old one but lighter; unpacked and unburdened.  This was one of the things you loved about Halloween, aside from the dark occult connotations, and the child-like excitement that came with this holiday, All Saints Day had its own special feel; everything felt cleansed.  Except your mind – that was always filthy.

Halloween at the Avengers compound had been an evening garden party with a bon fire, a haunted house marquee, carnival games and spooky themed circus acts.  It was more for the families of all the Avengers and Stark Industries staff (families with children), but you but you loved every second regardless.  Kids in costumes running around excitedly with candyfloss, completely hyperactive on sugar and E numbers.  Adults in costumes running around excitedly, completely hyperactive on alcohol.  But that had been later in the night, after all the kids had gone and all who were left were those of your who lived in the compound.

This year, you and Bucky had done the couples thing.  Collaborating costumes for the first time had been fun and your adaptation of Sweeny Todd and Mrs Lovett had gone down swimmingly, especially since you actually baked pies for the party; apple and blackberry, made to look like a bloody filling. Delicious.

It wasn’t the first Halloween you’d had together, you’d been together 2 years now and things were going great.  You’d danced around each other when you’d first joined the team but as time grew on you came to realise that you truly cared for the man formerly known as The Winter Soldier, and learned that he felt the same.  And boy, did he!  Bucky poured his heart and soul into you, giving life to the aching hope you cherished, that one day all the tension between you would evolve into something amazing. And that he’d fuck you senseless.  Phew!  That man was passionate on a whole other level, even the thought of him was enough to get you going.

Sweaty and in desperate need of a different kind of release, you quit the gym having worked through your hangover, and hit the showers.  If you’d have told yourself a couple of years ago that you’d be an exercise-loving badass Avenger with a badass Avenger boyfriend, you’d have told yourself to suck a dick.  You’d come a long way since Tony Stark picked you up, back when you were a hotdog seller whose superpower was simple prismatic projection.  Now you were a fully-fledged Avenger whose power could both protect and harm, as well as look snazzy as fuck.  Your Avenger name was Suncatcher, which was a hell of a lot better than Rainbow Brite - the name Bucky first called you when you joined up.  That asshole! 

The communal area in the compound had a different feel altogether.  Not the calm you loved about All Saints Day, but something glowing and bright and-.

“What the fuck is this shit?”

Your gym bag was heavy as you toted it the final few steps into the lounge where you observed a kind of carnage you’d never seen before, not even in the aftermath of battle.

 Bucky’s head snapped in your direction, his glitter-covered hair fanned, sending sparkling dust everywhere. There were fairy lights wrapped around his metal arm, plugged in, no less, and he had baubles on the floor all around where he knelt.

“Hey sweetheart.”  He was at your side in seconds, having ditched the lights and come to give you a hug and a soft peck on the cheek.

“Where’s the Halloween shit?”

Bucky’s mouth flapped in surprise at seeing your deep scowl, and he thumbed over his shoulder at his friend.

Ahh yes, the other culprit. The Falcon.

Sam had been knelt by Bucky, hidden from view when you’d entered.  Now he was out in the open, exposed, and he was struggling to stifle his mirth.

“Well, this ain’t happenin’.  Hell fuckin’ no!”  You stood in front of the partially assembled Christmas tree, hands on hips, bristling.  “I will fucking fight you both.”  You were sure you looked fierce.  Amazon queen that you were.  

“C’mon, Rainbow Brite.” Sam smirked.  “Tis the season to be jolly.”

“Fuck that!”  You gripe indignantly.  “It’s Halloween until December 24th and not a day before.”

“You tolerate this woman?” Sam jibed at Bucky, rolling his eyes with a long-suffering groan.

“Get stuffed, turkey boy.” Your irritation was only half serious, you loved talking shit, especially to Sam.  “I light up his life like the glorious disco ball of sexy bitchin’ badassery that I am.”

Bucky pulled you in for a hug, chuckling against the top of your head.  “Speaking of stuffing.”  He murmured.

“Oh baby!”  You moaned salaciously when his hands slid down to your ass.  “You know I love me some of that 100 year old sausage meat stuffing.”  You cackle with glee at the disgusted noise Sam made.

You were sorely tempted to push Bucky down on the sofa, straddle him and make a scene of dry humping him just to get Sam to flee the scene.  Bucky would let you do it too, he’d long since stopped being embarrassed by your exhibitionist behaviour.  But you wanted this man to fuck you senseless and that called for the soundproofed bedroom in which he slept.

Nightmares.  It was for the nightmares, alright.  But it certainly served your needs.

“If I’ve got to tolerate this Christmas bullshit before the corpse of Halloween is even cold then you,”  you paused to poke his pec playfully, “robocock, are going to make it up to me.”

With a grin, Bucky tapped your thigh and bent down a little.  Jump up, his eyes said.

No sooner were your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck, were his lips on yours in a searing kiss and he carried you away.  Somewhere in the background Sam was muttering something about being scarred for life, counselling needed and some other lame ass complaint.  You didn’t care.  Bucky had you and he was going to take you.

 There was no preamble once his bedroom door banged shut against the frame.  Bucky threw you down onto the bed and tugged down your yoga pants, knickers and all. He knew what you needed from him, he was great like that, reading your mood and desire like you were an open book. It had come with much practice, but it had come.

You were yanked by your ankles to the edge of the bed and Bucky was inside you immediately, where he stilled, eyelids fluttering as he allowed you both a moment to adjust.  You were tight, even after all this time as his lover.  More so because he hadn’t warmed you up beforehand, but you were great.  Perfect, in fact.

You grinned at his sharp intake of breath at the purposeful flex of your pelvic floor, teasing him, goading him to fuck you sore.  To leave you with that burning throb that reminded you for days of the feel of him buried deep in your cunt.

“Lose the shirt.”  You commanded with a sly smile and he obeyed instantly.  “I’ve been thinking about you naked all damn day.”

“Yeah?”  He threw your legs over his shoulders folded you in half, leaning over you until his hair tickled your face, swaying as he started a slow rhythm.  “Been thinking about my cock too?  I bet you have.”

You groaned deep as he slammed into you hard, once twice, three times.  “What girl – doesn’t love – vintage – accessories?”  Your grin was taunting and your hit your mark.  You loved it when he talked dirty.

“I’ll give you vintage.” He growled, dragging your hands up above your head to pin you down, his hands locked with yours.  “You’ll feel this tomorrow, for sure.”

It was brutal.  The depth and force of his thrusts, and the angle he achieved by forcing your knees down onto the mattress by your ears using his weights as leverage.  You could hardly breathe, but that was half the thrill.  Gasping and keening, dizzy but exhilarated, you took every inch of him as he drilled you down into the bed.  Paying rent, you called this.

“You gonna come for me, huh, sweetheart?”  Bucky read the violent flush blooming on your face and décolletage with an arrogance smirk. “Gonna let me feel that sweet little pussy flutter?  Yeah, you are!  I’m gonna fuck you until you come around my cock.”

You had no words for him, only grunts and gasps made of what little air was in your lungs.  He didn’t mind, he was giving you this, fucking you how you needed.  It wasn’t always brutal like this, sometimes you couldn’t bare anything more than the softest touch, when you asked him to make love to you instead of fucking you into oblivion.

“Feel that?”  He slammed into you hard and ground against you for a few beats, his pubic bone wreaking havoc with your clit, before resuming his punishing rhythm.  “I’m gonna destroy that gorgeous hole of yours so bad you won’t sit right for a week.”

He was so close, straining to hold back until he pushed you over the edge.  Impossibly he picked up the pace, pounding you ruthlessly until your eyes rolled back into their sockets.  You practically drooled on yourself, groaning as you crested the huge mountain of intense pleasure he built for you.  The wave crashed, destroying what was left of your self-control. You cried out, tears undammed as they spilled forth.  It was exquisite, the sharpness of your climax and the painful burn where you were stretched so perfectly around his swollen prick.

The first violent contraction of your cunt dragged him with you, his cock twitched almost painfully as the pressure between his hips exploded.  The air around you grew heavy to the point where he couldn’t draw breath, and as he filled you to brimming with his jism small flecks of multi-coloured light erupted all around.

He slowed and sat back on his knees, prolonging your orgasm with slow deep strokes until you began to relax.  The light show was spectacular, undulating spectrums layered over one another, growing in size until you came back to yourself.

Bucky stroked his hands up and down your thighs gently, watching as your breathing settled and your eyes cracked open to meet his.  Your shock was temporary, followed by guilt and suddenly he could breathe more than short shallow breaths.  You hadn’t realised you’d used your power; it was a reaction to the intense emotions you’d felt.  The first time it happened, Bucky panicked, but now he knew to ride it out, and sometimes it added to his pleasure.

“How was that?”  he whispered, lowering your legs to the mattress and curling himself against your spine.

“Best stuffing, evarrrr…” You spoke quietly but with a smile, blissfully worn out and on the verge of unconsciousness.

“Not bad for 1940s vintage, huh, sweetheart?”  He pressed a kiss into the hair at your temple and pulled you closer, feeling you relax back against his chest.

“They don’t make ‘em like they used to.”  You mumble and Bucky chuffs a soft nasal chuckle, rubbing his stubbly cheek in your hair as you succumb to complete peace.

It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas

Everywhere you go…

Take a look at the five and ten, it’s glistening once again

With candy canes and silver lanes that glow…

 You stirred from sleep, grumbling at the infernal racket that was threatening to ruin the amazing dream you were having about Bucky kissing every single inch of your body.

It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas

Toys in every store…

But the prettiest sight to see is the holly that will be

On your own front door…

 The muffled vibrating that accompanied the horrendous tune pulled you further from sleep and made you crack an eye open like a sleeping dragon.  A phone.  Someone’s phone was ringing.  Some Christmas-loving heathen’s phone.  Ughh!

A pair of hop-a-long boots and a pistol that shoots

Is the wish of Barney and Ben

Dolls that’ll talk and will go for a walk

Is the hope of Janice and Jen

And Mom and Dad can hardly wait for school to start again…

 You were soon bolt upright, slightly woozy but too grumpy to care.  You scoured Bucky’s room for the source of the annoyance and fixed, confusedly, on your gym bag.  What the fuck?  Hands frantically searching, you pulled out your phone to find one missed call from ‘Fist of Victory’.  Bucky must’ve called you to wake you from your nap.  Blissed out as you were, he must’ve left you to sleep while he ran some errands and did some chores, like bringing your gym bag from the common room.

The screen flashed and the voice of Michael Bublé piped up once more.  Bucky again.

It’s beginning to look a lot like-

You killed the call and, with an irritated nasal sigh, you delved into your settings to undo whatever heinous crime had been committed on your phone.

It’s beginning to look-

“Nope.”  You swiped the red button, growing more annoyed by the second.  Your phone asked you for a password but your pin didn’t work.  “Don’t do this to me!”  You groaned, trying everything you could think of short of factory restoring your device.

It’s beginning to-

“What the actual fuck?” You raged.  It was no use.  Some bastard had set your ringtone and locked you out of your own security.  “Fuck Christmas!”

Dirty yoga pants pulled on in haste and phone in hand, you raced from Bucky’s room towards the common room where you hoped to find your beau or at least someone who could fix this travesty.  Micheal Bublé’s voice chased you down the halls until you were about ready to flush your phone down the nearest shitter and call it quits.

Shoving through the door of the lounge, you were faced with 4 pairs of eyes around a dinner table laden with food; Bucky, Nat, Sam and Steve turned to look at you.  Bucky’s smile faded when he saw the state of you, dishevelled and panting, pink thong over the top of your inside-out yoga pants; furious.  You froze, cringing as the song continued uninterrupted in your hand.

It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas

Everywhere you go…

There’s a tree in the Grand Hotel, one in the park as well

It’s the sturdy kind that doesn’t mind the snow…

 There was confusion from three of the four, Bucky included as he ended the call, but Sam – oh that bastard!  You lunged for him and almost got to him too, before a solid metal arm wound around your waist and pulled you back.

“You!”  You struggled hard against Bucky’s strength, but even if you got free Steve was ready to stop you before you could hurt yourself, and it would hurt, but it would be worth it to punch that smug parrot in his weak-looking jaw.  “I’m gonna fucking pluck you, roast you and feed you to the homeless.”

The amused glint in Sam’s eyes goaded you further but you succumbed to the calming effect of Bucky’s arms tightly gripped around you.  You dropped your head against his chest and groaned.

“C’mon, y/n!  Get into the Christmas spirit.”  Sam chuckled and you flipped him the bird.

He knew he’d won this round but you’d find some way of paying him back.  Maybe you’d set fire to his tree on Christmas Eve so Christmas Day would have that vibrant bonfire smell that reminded you of Halloween, which was only yesterday.  You huffed.

“Is this why the tree is up so early?”  Nat said judgingly with a slight roll of her eyes.  “You should probably fix her phone.”

“Hell no!”  Sam snorted around a mouthful of food.  “This is too much fun.”

“Suit yourself.”  Nat hid her smirk behind the rim of her coffee cup. “I’m not going to save you when she chokes the life out of you, Darth Vader style.”

Coughing and choking preceded grains of rice spluttered into a napkin as Sam’s wide eyes flitted between you and Nat.  “She what?”

“Wanda has been working with her on expanding the range of her powers so she can effect larger areas further away from her body.”  Steve chimed in.  “It’s impressive.”

“The air gets thick and suddenly you can’t breathe.”  Nat cocked a brow.  “She doesn’t even need to touch you and you’re choking to death.”

“From over there?” Sam pushed his chair back a few inches, like that would make a difference.

Steve and Nat nodded deliberately, solemnly.

You grinned, projecting a light show worthy of your wrath.  Sam was out of his seat and backing up before Bucky turned you and positioned himself between you and your target.  Sam didn’t know you couldn’t reach him and it was fun to make him squirm so you tried, like, really tried to stretch your power outwards at that winged menace. The air grew heavy and it seemed like everyone held their breath, everyone except you.

Bucky stroked his hand into your messy hair and tilted your head ready for his kiss.  You knew he was trying to distract you, and it worked. Lips and tongues eagerly danced until you were moaning into his mouth and pressing yourself against his growing arousal.  The room relaxed as he ravaged your lips, forgetting you were not alone.  Your tummy growled aggressively and broke the spell, bashful giggles followed.

“Looks like I’m going to be making it up to you again, darlin’, on behalf of that bird brain.” Bucky kissed the tip of your nose.

“Well…”  You drawled.  “If you’re going to fuck me every time he pisses me off then I might sign him up on a contract.”

Bucky smeared his lips against yours in a passionate but tongueless kiss before swiping a plate full of food from the table and shoving it into your hands.

He swept you up bridal style and spun you around once for good measure.  Nat caught your eye and you mouthed ‘thank you’ to her.  She winked subtly with that pursed lop-sided smirk she does when she’s highly amused.  Steve was looking elsewhere, seeing his childhood friend head-over-heels in love and so confidently displaying his emotions was a moment of awkward pride for him.

Sam was forgotten as Bucky carried you back to his room with a grin on his face that already had you weak. Your phone was forgotten, turned off in your hand, and as you disappeared down the hallway, those in the common room would swear they heard you humming a tune.  A tune that fit with the words now playing in your head.

 It’s beginning to look a lot like sex-mas

Several times a day

Take a look at that perfect bum, and that juicy pair of plums

And the cock that’s going to fuck my cares away

 It’s beginning to look a lot like sex-mas

Get the toys and stuff

If I’m still walking straight, and not with a funky gait

Then he hasn’t truly boned me hard enough

 A pair of nipple-clamp bells and some lube that smells

Like cherry and not something yuk

A straining hard cock that gives my ovaries a knock

And I’m gonna give it a suck

And when we’re done, we’ll watch some porn until we’re ready to fuck

 It’s beginning to look a lot like sex-mas

Fingers tease me slow

When he’s giving me metal three and working them ruthlessly

Until I’m screaming and I’m ready to explode

 It’s beginning to look a lot like sex-mas

And we’ve ruined Bucky’s bed

We’ll take it to the floor or stood by the door

Where I’m on my knees so I can give him head.

 It’s beginning to look a lot like sex-mas

He’s gasping as he comes

Filling me to the brim and holding me close to him

Rubbing my cheeks so tender with his thumbs

 I do love Bucky’s plums.

If you’ve enjoyed this, why not try my other Suncatcher fic, Disco Ball Diva.  Same sassy reader character, just earlier on in her Avengers career.

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