all words are made up

Pairing: Thor x fem!reader

Summary: “The kind of smile that would be cruel not to kiss.” (A prompt I saw on Pinterest and uhhh wrote a thing.

Words: I honestly don’t know but it’s definitely a drabble lmao

You notice the smile from across the room and it’s like seeing stars poke through gloomy clouds and light up a dark sky. He’s chuckling at something dumb Sam and Bucky are doing and the deep rumble sends goosebumps dancing across your skin.

The scraping of plates become quiet clinks in the background and the constant banter between Sam and Bucky morphs into muted echoes.

It’s as if the world slows down to watch him smile.

Somehow, when he catches sight of you across the room, the smile grows into something even more breathtaking. You start to mentally plan a route to the medical bay so that you can get your heart re-started.

That small twitch of his lips is brightness and beauty and hope and you’re suddenly positive he could empty the sky of clouds if he tried. Ironic, really, as the God of Thunder.

You drag your feet through the kitchen, maneuvering around the bench towards Thor’s towering figure. His hair is ruffled and messy, remanents of the night before and his eyes are slightly droopy, still weighed down by sleep.

He pushes off the bench though, wandering towards you and picking up a mug on his way, leaving Sam and Bucky to their daily argument. His smile is still on his lips when he reaches you, placing the coffee on the bench beside you.

His love for the bitter liquid had never faded, and he makes it his life mission to brew a brilliant coffee every morning, hoping it brings you the same joy it did him when he had that first sip so many years ago.

“Good morning, my love.” The words are mumbled quietly when you’re close enough to hear them, and his free hand finds your waist, urging you closer.

“Mornin’ baby,” you whisper back, pressing a kiss to his bare shoulder. Your arms wrap around his neck almost instinctively and that smile never falls, not even for a moment. You wonder how, before him, you lived your life without it.

When you pull back slightly, you find his ever-present smile waiting, his eyes trained on yours. You’d never met someone that radiates joy like Thor – after everything he has been through, the hardships he has been forced to face, he still finds a reason to smile, a reason to spread happiness. You have seen him at his worst, and he at yours, but the two of you always remained in each other’s arms, making each other smile.

And so, you push up on your toes, press your lips firmly to his smile. You feel the chuckle rumble through his lips and the way his fingers tighten on your waist. You taste the coffee and the joy on his lips and you never want to pull away.

When you do, the smile is still there, but it’s changed slightly – it’s softer, and his eyes shine with something new. Maybe he’s surprised by your sudden burst of affection, maybe he’s amused by how ridiculously in love with him you are, or maybe he feels the exact same way. Maybe he can’t help it when you’re around. Maybe the smile will stay on his lips for as long as there’s one on yours. Maybe you found your happiness in each other.

You pushed up again, pressing another couple of chaste kisses scattered across his chin and jaw to ensure the smile would last. You never wanted him to stop.

Maybe, with you in his arms, he never would. 

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: Falling asleep beside someone has never felt so good. This is basically a very fluffy drabble.

Words: 970

Warnings: mutual pining and fluff

A/n: There isn’t much dialogue in this which scares me. Also, I’ve had a lot of caffeine so this MIGHT be trash, who knows lmao. Steve Rogers is the actual love of my life and no one will ever beat him. So, enjoy that.

Thanks @evanstar and @sweetboybucky for encouraging my addiction to Sleepy-Steven™ This is partly your fault.

7am

You were never a fan of waking up beside people. It was generally an uncomfortable experience – sweaty skin pressed against sweaty skin, hair tangled together, twisted clothes and the constant worry that you were too heavy. Numb arms stuck underneath heavy torsos and a sore back for three days because you were cramped into a less-than-satisfactory position.

At least, that’s what you used to think.

Today was a very different experience.

You woke up to the sun – bright rays shining through the large window, brightness filling the darkest corners of your sleepy mind and dragging you back into consciousness. You woke up confused, unsure of where you were and unable to recall going to bed the night before. Your head felt heavy and tinting back was an effort, but you pressed on, retracing your steps.

You remembered eating dinner alone, downing a few drinks and opening a bottle of wine. You remembered the knock on the door and Steve’s gentle smile as he entered your apartment. You weren’t expecting him, but you were happy to have the company. You remembered the two of you sitting on the couch, singing along to ‘Princess and the Frog’ and ‘The Lion King.’

Summary: Your life as an assassin for the mob has always been an easy one – find the target, kill the target. Simple. Everything changes when you fail to kill your new target – Bucky Barnes. 

Pairing: Eventually, Bucky x fem!reader 

Warnings: Violence, blood, death (wow, a bit different to my usual fluff)

Words: 3.5k

A/n: I’m posting this now – I don’t know when I’ll post the rest of this story because I’m kind of stuck with my plan for it, so if you have any ideas/wanna chat about it, I don’t mind! Though, this is just set-up – the Avengers become a bigger part of it next chapter, you might need to read that before you start speculating lmao

 I just really wanted to post this and see what you guys think. Let me know!

Chapter One

Stay low, go fast

Kill first, die last

One shot, one kill

Not luck, all skill

Inhale.

The air entered your lungs slowly, your chest rising ever-so-slightly as you closed your eyes. You were grounding yourself in the moment like you always did. Your entire body was still – practiced in the art of not being seen. You crouched in the empty sandwich shop, your rifle rested on your shoulder, your hands tight around the cool metal of a 300 Winchester Magnum as you begun your process – the habitual movements you followed before pulling the trigger.

Exhale.

You opened your eyes, staring across the road at the bank. You had trailed your target here and set up shop in the restaurant across the street – emptied out by the commotion. A robbery –– hostage situation –– in the bank across the road. At first, you thought they were your target – the masked idiots who attempted to rob a high-security bank with nothing but a few pistols and masks. Turns out, your target was someone else – the man that came to stop them. The Winter Soldier.

Inhale.

This time, your eyes stayed open, watching carefully as he landed a punch on one of the robbers, consciously withholding the metal arm – the one that would do more damage.

You squinted through the sight, adjusting your aim to make sure you were on-target one last time and swallowing carefully.

He wasn’t fighting to kill, just to subdue. The criminal fell to the ground and the Soldier’s partner –– a redhead with skills comparable to yours –– zip-tied his wrists. He was the last one to go down.

Pairing : Chris Beck x Reader

Summary: Heavily pregnant but very tired, you still insist to go out for your usual date night with your boyfriend.

Words: 2.1k

Warnings: Disgusting amount of fluff, soft space boy being soft. 

A/N: Okay so I’ve been dying to write Chris Beck again for a while now. And after talking with my sweet @the-canary I got inspired and I couldn’t help myself. I hope you’ll like it! This has not been proodread yet, I’m sorry about the typos you’ll encounter!

I Main masterlist I

When Chris followed the huffing and whining coming from your room, a amused crept up his lips when he saw you standing in front of the closet. Hugged in a pair of leggings, the only pants you were willing to wear lately, you were angrily tugging at the grey NASA sweater, but the fabric refused to go over you prominent bump. Your hair was sticking out in every direction and your breathing was obviously more labored from the useless efforts you were putting into fitting in your favorite piece of clothing.

Reluctantly, he looked away to walk back in the living room and reach for his bag. He was back in the room less than thirty seconds later, hands behind his back. Hearing the ruffling of his soft sweatpants, you let your arms fall heavily on each side of you.

“I am a whale,” you sighed, defeated, “soon I won’t even be able to walk through the door.”

Bucky can’t sleep.

For several reasons, he thinks, as he shifts onto his back and half heartedly kicks the thin blanket covering him off his frame.

It’s hot, for one. The sticky Sao Paulo humidity clings to his skin and settles heavy on his chest. Makes him wonder what kind of privileged life he’s been living so recently that’s caused him the inability to handle a room without a quality AC.

He’s still clothed, for another. Pajamas aren’t exactly at the top of the checklist while preparing for a stakeout; his standard operating sleep-in-the-nude procedure disrupted by the fact that he isn’t alone in the room. And that, despite all actions that may imply otherwise, he’s pretty damn self-effacing.

“I’m going to die of suffocation.”

And that’s a problem, too. His hyper awareness of you, lying mere inches away from him in the dark. The circumstances of your mission putting you both into the situation the beats frenzied consciousness against his chest. 

He could tell by the pattern of your breathing that you, too, had been lying awake; his restless shift across the bed serving as permission for you to voice your unrest.

He’d laugh if not for the fact that he agrees. That the sweltering heat is perhaps, in the smallest way, making him reconsider his extreme aversion to the cold.

The mattress shifts beneath him as you move, and he watches with peaked curiosity as your silhouette advances around the bed in the dark. Hands push back curtains filtering city light from your room, casts it in beams across your body as you shunt the window behind them open.

The breeze isn’t everything. But it’s enough to draw Bucky from the bed to join you. To press shoulder to shoulder in front of the small opening and breathe in air that doesn’t feel so stuffy.

The city is active, even so late at night. The muted laughter and chatter on the streets below louder without the glass barrier. Somewhere close by, swoony jazz pipes through the air.

And just for a moment Bucky settles into a time long gone.

You sense it, he knows, feels the way you shift beside him and regard him with interest that pulls his attention from the streets below and onto you.

“Dance with me?”

The words sound foreign on his tongue. Unspoken for so long they pelt surprise against his chest as he realizes he wants to. That something in the air, amidst the chatter, in the dark, makes him want to dance with you.

And if it’s too out of his normal character, you don’t voice it. Your mouth simply curves into a smile that makes him reconsider all the strongly worded feedback he planned for Tony Stark as he tossed around earlier in the sweltering dark.

When you take his hand, he feels done for. Feels the beginning of the end as he hopes muscle memory serves him right.

“Fair warning,” you say, “I’m a real sucker for boys who know how to dance.”

“Then fair warning,” he answers back, voice lilted into a tease that’s more confident in the dark, “try not to fall in love.”

“No promises if you spin me.”

He chuckles as he draws you near.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 1120

Summary: Bucky Barnes socialises without goats.

Warnings: Death by fluff.

A/N: This is a request from this brilliant kissing prompt list for anon - thanks for requesting lovely! 💗 The prompt was “17. height difference kisses where one person has to bend down and the other is on their tippy toes.” ✨ I took this height thing in a slightly different direction.

Reader is adopted.

Masterlist here. If you’re cool waiting 84 years for it to be fulfilled, send me a kiss prompt request.

———

Bucky Barnes was distracted.

Lazing in the chair too small for his broad and steady form and fiddling with the wooden cutlery. Eyes shaded cocky grey and burnished blue, almost enamoured at the vision before him.

You.

Sitting across the makeshift table of the street stall, ravaging the dimpled bread amidst the garden of napkins you’d collected. Lips dipped in hot sauce and determined to see through the impulsive hunger that had come barrelling through the night.

Bucky’s own meal was a smaller match to yours. Coffee. A small portion of fried sweet bread. Sensible.

Yet it sat before him, steaming and forgotten. Too preoccupied in observing your deliberate attempt to inhale your midnight supper.

“You eatin’ that, Barnes?”

He was staring and you knew it.

Pairing : CEO!Bucky x Reader

Summary: Tired to wait for the man you had had a crush on for years to see you as more than his secretary, you sign up for a matching app that showcases talent. Without seeing your face, WhiteWolf17 finds himself falling lured by your voice. But getting your boss out of your system is more easily said than done. (Modern AU, Little Mermaid inspired AU)

Words: 2.2k

Warnings: None, just fluff and a bit of doubts. 

A/N: Yeah, things are about to get real, I guess? This is my entry for @ciarawritesmarvel Disney AU 1K celebration challenge

I Part 1 I Part 2 I Part 3 I Part 4 I Part 5 I 

I Siren Song Masterlist I Main Masterlist I

Hectic, that was how you could describe the past couple weeks. And, to be perfectly honest, you were quite happy about it. You had had the past week off work to be able to fully focus on Peggy’s wedding, suddenly not cursing her so much anymore about having her entire family living in Europe. Anything not to be at work right now. Although your professional conscience didn’t keep you from checking your emails and adjusting Mr. Barnes schedule from afar, but at least you didn’t have to see him. At least not until today.

WhiteWolf17: I bet you look amazing today. Well, I bet you look amazing everyday, but especially today.

You chuckled at your phone, allowing yourself a short break while Peggy’s mom was helping her into her dress. You looked at your own gown, the long shimmery emerald dress was certainly not something you would have ever thought of, but the bride knew better, as usual. The color was surprisingly flattering for your skin tone and the mermaid shape did wonders highlighting your figure in the best way. It had been a long time since you had felt so good.

Now-- goSH this chapter is such an emotion roller coaster!! One minute I'm suffering the slow burning angst from both our reader and Bucky (honestly the heartache is so real I swear I choked at some point), next minute I'm squeeling by their cute flirting text and how they make each other happy IT'S MAKING ME REALLY CONFUSED LET'S BE REAL-- I looooove the chapter so much and this is the first time we got a glimpse from Nat's side too? With her cheeky comment and gosh I love her too--

“Babe, I really do love spending time with you, but –”

“But, what? A guy can’t vent to his lady for a bit?”

He’s reclined on the sofa in your office, hands behind his head and ankles crossed. Sam Wilson shoots you a look – one that he’s honed in the months you two have been seeing one another. It’s too good, and it spurs a smile onto your face that is hard to battle in moments like these. Sam’s chest puffs a bit in pride as he swings his legs over the edge of the couch. 

You hate that he’s so damn handsome. 

It makes standing your ground all the more difficult. 

“Sam.”

“Mhm.”

“You know there are other patients I have to see during this time block.”

“Who? Barnes?” a sneer, “Summer Soldier can wait. I think I’m more important – me, you’re handsome, caring, devoted boyfriend.”

He’s off the sofa now, sauntering towards you at your desk. You drop your head back, watching him with an amused gaze as he leans and his hands cup your cheeks. Sam gives a little squeeze and you laugh – and that’s enough for him to drop down and steal a lingering kiss.

You’re both a little too preoccupied to hear the door to your office swing open, but Bucky’s voice is enough to cut through the moment.

“Somehow I’m not surprised.”

Sam’s grin is cheeky as he passes Bucky out the door.

“See you later, baby.”

“I’m not your baby.”

“Sam –”

“Don’t you Sam me.”

Sam’s posed in the door way to the locker room, arms crossed and eyes dead set in a skeptical glare. He looks huffy – and he is, because there’s no way in hell he’s just going to let you spar with Natasha. 

You knew Sam was protective – he’d shown it in small things like controlled forms of affection in front of the team. But this? This was a little out of hand. You can tell his tone is light and playful, but the evident worry knotted across his brows has you grinning.

“She’s going to kick your ass,” Sams says, raising a pointed finger, “And I am not going to be held responsible.”

“She’s – no she’s not, Sam,” you say, stepping forward and giving him a playful shove. He battles back with an equal shove and a sly grin, “She offered to teach me some basic self-defense moves is all.”

“You’re our team psychologist! Why would you need self-defense?”

You cross your arms and deadpan. Sam throws his arms. “What? Stop looking at me like that – it makes me feel mean.”

“It’s a good skill to have!” you say, moving to fake jab at his waist.

“You have me for self-defense,” Sam chirps, hands knocking yours away as he tugs you into a smothering hug. He whispers the next part, emphasizing his point, “Plus, she’s crazy. And then, when you think you’ve reached the bottom of the crazy, there’s a crazy underground garage.”

“I think this violates my patient-practitioner privacy policy,” you laugh, wriggling in the Falcons grip as he laughs. It’s deep and warm and you love it, “And crazy isn’t a bad thing – she knows her stuff!”

“I’m not letting you –”

“I think you’re just afraid I’ll finally be able to kick your ass, Sam.”

“Yep,” he chides, hauling you up over his shoulder as you laugh brightly, Sam’s grin is toothy and bright, “That’s it, baby girl. I’m the only superhero in our household and I plan on keeping it that way.”

“Sam!”

What if Steven Grant Rogers didn’t grow up sickly and frail? What if he grew up in a different era with technology and treatments that could have helped his various ailments? What if Steve didn’t need the serum to get his sculpted body and incredible strength?

Steve has asthma. He had scoliosis as a kid, but it disappeared with age. He had a few bad illnesses, chicken pox, bronchitis, but nothing that ever kept him down for long.

He’s a late bloomer. While most guys his age were hitting growth spurts, he’s stuck in his small body willing the puberty gods to bless him already. He watches his best pal Bucky grow into his new body and Steve can’t figure out if he’s jealous or in love. He definitely appreciates his friend’s new figure, that’s for sure.

Puberty hits him hard one summer in high school. He shoots up to a whopping 6 feet, loses his scrawny frame and begins keeping weight. He gets back to school in the fall and it’s like he’s a new student. Where he was invisible before, he’s the shiny new toy now. Girls and guys alike can’t seem to hide their attraction to Steve and while he’s a little nervous under all that attention, he’s able to adjust to it.

He loses his ma during his junior year of high school. He’s helped through it by Bucky, of course. “I’m with ya ‘til the end of the line, Pal,” he had said. Steve moves in with the Barneses officially.

He spirals. He starts fights because he’s angry and can’t harness it any other way. He’s pissed off ay the world and he sees someone bullying someone else and he sees red. Sees his version of god bullying him and taking his ma away. Punches and punches and punches until he can’t anymore. He takes whatever he can get his hands on to help with the pain- both physical and emotional. He says it’s not a problem but it’s definitely a problem.

Bucky intervenes. Bucky breaks up a standard Steve fight in an alley behind the movie theater but instead of punching the opponent, he punches Steve; hits him square on the jaw. Steve stumbles back and Bucky follows, looming over him as best he can with the limited height difference. “Fix your shit Rogers. This ain’t you. You’re turning into exactly what you hate. Maybe take up boxing to get your agression out but cut the bullshit right now or we’re done.”

Steve cleans himself up and takes on boxing. He’s actually pretty good. It turns into an obsession and he excells into an actual ring. His coach and his gym supporting his matches and beaming with pride when he gets the knockout. He always gets the knockout.

He saves his winnings and gets his own apartment. Nothing against the Barneses but Buck was right and Steve DOES need to fix his shit. He starts therapy and goes at least once a week. With that and boxing and the help of his friends, Bucky especially, he works through the grief. Gets through the pain. Stays clean. He is good.

His boxing coach suggests he check out some other forms of fighting. Even suggests Tai Chi. Steve gets into the calming martial arts. Does yoga. He loves yoga.

He gets a dog. Adopts her from the shelter. Loves her and spoils her and treats her like a human child. Names her Petunia and calls her Petey for short.

Guys nights are a thing. They go to the bar and shoot the shit, discuss their weeks and their lives and it feels nice to have normalcy. They get hit on a lot too. Steve doesn’t drink, but he gets drinks bought for him by women all the damn time. He passes them along to Bucky and Sam, but thanks each woman who sends them regardless. He dances. He has FUN.

He meets you at the bar during one fateful guys night. Another woman had bought him a beer but you watched and saw him pass it to the man on his left before tossing the other woman a quick wave. He must not drink you realize, and you order him a water with lemon. You deliver it yourself. He’s practically in love with you from the moment he realizes what you had done, the simple observation meaning more to him than you could understand.

It’s not a one night thing. It’s a couple nights that turn into a couple more then an every night kind of thing. He’s the BEST boyfriend. Your mom loves him. Your dad loves him. He’s kind, considerate, thoughtful, and he does all the laundry. You want to marry him.

You marry him. It’s beautiful, and there’s even an extra chair left open for Sarah, who’s presence could be felt throughout the ceremony and throughout the day. It was perfect.

Steve liked to sit outside on the porch thinking and drawing from time to time. It’s one of those nights, with sweltering heat and the melody of the crickets, when he realizes how far he’s come in his lifetime. He’s proud of his life and the work he’s put in to obtain it. He whispers, talking to his ma. “Thank you,” is all he says.

Tagging: @jamesbvck, @sweetpca, @red-wallflowers, @akamaiden, @thisishowdynastiesareborn, @captainrogerrsbeard, @murder-daddy-bucky, @seasidespecter, @jaamesbbarnes

I know I forgot people- I’m on mobile sorry! If you want to be tagged, tell me here.

pairing: steve/reader summary: in which you and steve have a turning point in your relationship with a simple touch. A/N: feedback is always welcomed. @jamesbvck @captinsmarvels @rvmanova @noshitstark @infxnitywar @infinitywahrs @odinsion @thefalconsam @starrk @starkparker @bcharestbarnes

It transpired with an innocent gesture toward him; a light brush of his arm when you had laughed at a joke he made. Steve wasn’t one for clichés, but he could not fight or argue the feeling of a shock that ran through his entire body when he felt your fingertips brush his elbow. To Steve, that precise moment altered something for him. To Steve, it was in fact, life changing.

You always admired Steve and his ability to befriend the majority of the people he’d meet. He was charming, and polite; kind, and helpful. He was respectful and funny, courageous and brave. Surely with these qualities, you couldn’t help your feelings for him. You had always wondered what it would be like for Steve to look at you in the same light in which you saw him. You tried to push the thought out of your mind, but you were helpless, really. 

You were seated next to Steve and Sam, a conversation blossoming between the two which you paid no mind to. As you sat there, all you could do was focus on Steve’s face as you watched a smile appear on his lips and sparkles appear in his eyes. To say the least, it was a breathtaking sight.

You had only confided in one person regarding your feelings for Steve, and that was Clint. Clint was unlike anyone else you had ever met before. Similar to Steve, however, he attributed some of the same qualities which you liked so much. But Clint, Clint was just different. You couldn’t exactly explain it with words; it was just something you felt. And to you, feelings had a stronger message than words anyway, so you completely trusted your initial gut instinct when it came to Clint. Clint had caught you that day looking at Steve, smiling. He dared not say anything in that moment, but let you have your moment of bliss. He waited until you were alone and the others were nowhere around before he approached you.

something that helps bucky feel a little more at ease is establishing a routine, which he tends to follow kind of religiously.

wake up, run, eat, train, eat, free time, eat, sleep.

on tuesdays and thursdays, he sleeps in and boxes late with steve & sam. wednesday’s are for laundry. on friday nights, he gets pad thai takeout — same place, same order — and watches whatever’s on the history channel until bed.

on days when his schedule changes, even minutely, he struggles. there’s a nagging sense of being out of control and he hates it. it plunges him into a mild panic most of the time and bucky tries his best to right himself on track lest his whole world just…. crumbles, he guesses.

when you come into his life, the adjustment leaves him grappling with the fact that his daily routine and romance just… don’t mesh. at all. being spontaneous brings on a panic like no other with fear of breaking his comfort zone.

so, you settle on the small things. he always sits to your right, always holds your right hand. when he kisses you, he kisses you twice. he has his spot on the couch, his side in bed. wednesday nights, you help him fold his socks. he memorized your pad thai order by heart, has it bought and laid out for you by the time you make your way over to his apartment on fridays.

and sometimes, he doesn’t sleep in. he wakes up early and you two roll in the sheets, locked in bliss and the break in routine isn’t so terrible. he kisses you more than just twice in a row.

one day, he skips boxing to take you to the movies and he’s glowing — he smiles and laughs the entire time and you wonder if he realizes it’s a tuesday.

slowly, bucky is no longer bound to routine. he forgets what it’s like to break down when he loses track of time, he forgets the panic associated with living.

The heat rose to your face as you sat across from the big and muscular man, his arms crossed on the table and head on his arms as he stared at you. He was smiling at it made butterflies erupt in your stomach.

“Stop staring at me,” you said, the heat spreading from your cheeks to your neck. 

“Why?” Thor asked, propping his head up on a hand and leaning against it. He looked like a big puppy and you just wanted to cuddle him, but you two were at a table in the middle of the park. 

“Because.”

“Because why?”

“Because–” you leaned back, forcing your eyes away from his gaze. He was like the sun and you were in his rays. It was flattering but you weren’t going to tell him that. You bit your lip. “Because.” 

“But you’re so beautiful, it’s hard not to.” He smiled wider and you rolled your eyes, shaking your head as you tried to hide your smile. It wasn’t working.

You give him a look, and you can tell he knows exactly what he’s doing as he bites his own lip. You cross your arms and lean your head on them, gazing into his beautiful blue eyes. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

He leans forward and kisses your nose before he mimics your position. Then he grabs your hand and laces your fingers together, giving them a squeeze. 

      —— i think about steve rogers in this shirt a lot & i love when he’s happy so here’s a sappy dumb steve x reader fic about a captain america birthday card. 

You love him.

Steve smiles when you present the card, his chest shifting with the warm timbre of a laugh that you feel in your toes. He smiles like starlight and it burns life into the darkness of your apartment.

“You didn’t need to get me a card, y’know.”

“Well, I did.”

He moves to lean on his elbows, settling himself across your kitchen island and you shift on the bar-stool you’ve perched yourself on. He takes his time, pushing aside the take-out left overs you’d walked out of dinner with. His glass of wine is ignored in favor of the small, red card.

Steve looks at you one last time, blue eyes flicking across your face, before he settles into ripping the red envelope open. You have to sit on your hands; you’re eager to have him open it. He chews the inside of his lip, opting not to comment on your palpable excitement.

When he pulls the red, white, and blue card from it’s stock, he laughs again – you’re lovesick at the sound. Steve drops his head back, eyes shut in a soft sense of glee as he chuckles. His Adam’s apple bobs and you smother the sudden want to kiss him and taste the happiness on his smile. 

“You – ha – you… You know it says Happy 3rd Birthday, right?”

You grin at your knees, bouncing them. Steve watches you like you’re a holy relic. You shine with a bashful sense of belonging. You catch the look in his eyes and feel like you’ve been hit by a bus.

It’s love – he doesn’t have to say it and you don’t either. It comes in stride, sometimes suprising. It’s easy with him. You’re happy with him.

“It’s you,” you say, finger darting to press into the card stock, “It’s you on a card.”

He’s in his uniform, throwing his shield across the Birthday card. They got his ear-wings wrong, but you don’t say anything. You just smile, big and proud, and Steve’s knees feel a little bit like goo.

“I love it.”

And he loves you.

“Read it.”

Fingers push the card open, blue eyes jumping to the scribbled words along the store-bought card. Your words are pretty and kind and loving and Steve doesn’t realize he’s reading out-loud until his voice hitches on the last line and he has to remember to breathe.

“ – To my best guy; to my Captain, O, my Captain. I love you. Happy Birthday, you’re really old.”

You’re looking down, face ridden with a mild sense of embarrassment with those parting words – it feels heavier when he says it, when it’s written in ink and not unspoken between late night kisses after brushes with death. 

Steve places the card down with a gentle hand, palm brushing the granite counter top as he rounds the side to sweep you into a sturdy kiss – it flows like lava into your chest and lights you on fire and you smile. He feels it. 

He smiles, too.

“I love you,” he says finally, standing between your legs and his fingers fisted into your dress, “Thank you for the card.”

“Even if it says you’re three years old?”

Steve laughs out loud, nose pressing into your cheek. “Yeah. Even if it says I’m three years old.”

Pairing : Bucky x Reader

Summary: After a rough mission, you and the team go to Coney Island for some fun. Still injured, you can’t go on the rollercoaster with the others so Bucky decides to keep you company and to make your day as memorable as possible.

Words: 3.9k

Warnings: All the freaking flooff, soft Bucky, mention of injury

A/N: Yeah so I was at the fair a couple weeks back and inspiration struck. I’ll be back soon for the next chapter of Siren Song but I had to get this out of my mind. I hope you’ll like it!

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It was not secret that being an Avenger was more than stressful and, sometimes to your dismay, rare were the opportunities for leisure. So, when Tony had clapped his hands in the middle of lunch, cutting all conversations to bring the attention on him and declared that you were all going to Coney Island for the afternoon, nobody really rejected the idea.

The weather was magnificent, sunny and warm but not so much that you would be melting, just enough to trade your workout clothes for fluid pants and a light, short-sleeved blouse that allowed you to move freely.

As you got ready and climbed in the car drove by Nat, you couldn’t deny you felt like a child. Excitement was bubbling in your system to the prospect of spending an entire day at the amusement park. The delicious smell of popcorn, cotton candy and other sweet treats filling the air, the light and joyful atmosphere, the happiness radiating off people’s faces, spending time with the people you love. There was nothing like it.

Squeezed between Sam and Bucky at the back of the sports car, you almost didn’t mind the endless bantering between the two teammates that made it difficult for you to keep up your conversation with Steve and Nat at the front of the car. You were laughing at Steve’s shocked face as he heard on of The Weeknd’s not so subtle songs playing on the radio when you received a hard nudge. The sharp pain combined with the surprise tore a whimper from you.