Summary: All Bucky wanted was you and the snow. Missing the love of your life at Christmas is hard.
Characters: Bucky x Reader Warnings: Pretty much fluff. Little bit of sad, but then a bunch of happy
A/N: Holidays are hard sometimes, especially when you’re missing people or can’t make it home. So no matter what holiday you’re celebrating, or even if you’re not celebrating a damn thing and are just missing someone, this story is for anyone who’s wishing for a little miracle now and then.
The fresh snow crunches under your boots as you wander
slowly down the sidewalk, hands tucked deep in the pockets of Bucky’s blue peacoat.
It was far too large, hanging nearly to your knees, and you had to push the
sleeves up every time you needed your fingers, but it was soft and warm and
smelled like his cologne. Dammit, you missed
A/N: So I just finished writing a one-shot. Pretty shit. Haha, yeah. I decided to move out of my comfort zone and write an actual one-shot instead of a headcanon. I was inspired by Sam’s Instagram story that he posted yesterday of a Spider-Man cake and the fact that the Holland brothers are very competitive against each other. I hope you enjoy!
Warnings: Light swearing
It is February 13, and you are mentally preparing yourself for what may or may not be a traumatizing experience. You see, every year your boyfriend, Sam, and his twin, Harry, have a competition on their birthday. Who has made the better birthday cake for their brother? It is a vicious and yearly battle between the 2 boys, and as of right now, Harry is in the lead by 1 point.
The entire Holland family (including Harrison because he is an honorary Holland) decided that Harry’s cake was better than Sam’s camera design. So yes, Sam is super bitter. You had not been able to cast in a vote because you are incredibly biased towards your boyfriend of 3 years. And no one better tell Sam this, but you are kind of glad that you were not allowed to because you would have chosen Harry’s as well. Shhh!
But this year Sam decided to bring out the big guns- you. With your super-mega-awesome baking skills (Sam said it, not you) and your literally-oh-so- amazingly-amazing artistic talent (you can quote Sam on that too), you were going to help Sam win this thing.
It had taken a lot of groveling on his part before you finally crumbled. Honestly what really sealed the deal was when he was pressing gentle kisses up and down your neck. He should not be allowed to do that because he knows how that turns your brain to mush! The nerve…
But here you are now, tying an apron over one of Sam’s shirts that you had stolen some time ago. You really hoped that you could help him win this year. The reason that you had been so reluctant to agree in aiding Sam was because you didn’t want him to be disappointed in you if you couldn’t help him succeed. Of course logically you knew that he would never be because Sam is the most loving boyfriend of all time but still.
As Sam strides into the kitchen with his long-ass legs, he dons his own apron. It was going to get messy in there. “Harry is at Tom’s flat right now making my cake so he won’t be bothering us for the rest of the day (mind you it is currently 9:35 am).
“Great!” You swiftly pull Sam down by his neck to kiss him square on the mouth. When you pull away just as quickly, Sam whines slightly as his lips chase your retreating ones. “Nuh uh, mon ange. We need to start baking.”
With a small pout, Sam’s freckled face settles into a concentrated one. He is skimming the old recipe book that is laying on the counter top. Your partner had asked you to bring it because you would be making the chocolate ganache cake that you had once made for Sam when he was having a series of bad days. He had been instantly enamored with it, and he was sure that it would score some major points with the Holland judges.
“While you start baking the cake, I prepare the icing, fondant, the piece that we had backed yesterday, and the tools we need to decorate this,” Sam informs you authorially. You roll your eyes because even though your babe is a total sweetheart, he practically becomes a different person when it comes to making these cakes. His competitiveness with his brother is extreme.
After 30 minutes of combining ingredients and getting every measurement just right, you finally place the 10x12 pan in the oven to bake. You sigh as you lean against the counter to rest for a second. Sam had been very no-nonsense for the last half an hour, and it was quite tiring. You knew that he just wanted to beat his younger twin, but you had been kind of hoping that this could be a fun coupley activity. But then again, you had also been expecting to be traumatized.
Speak of the Devil, and it shall appear. Sam seems to materialize out of thin air, and you jump a bit as he comes behind you and wraps his long arms around your waist. He places a smooch onto your shoulder blade before resting his head on yours. “I’m so sorry, love.”
You frown in confusion. “What are you talking about, darling?”
“I know that you aren’t having a lot of fun, and I also am aware that I’m being a bit of an ass.”
You quickly turn in his arms and bury your face into his chest. “It’s ok,” you mumble.
“No it’s not, sweetheart.” He takes ahold of your chin to tilt your head up. “I’ll chill out.” He then proceeds to press kisses all over your face. Cheeks, nose, eyelids, chin, forehead, lips. No part of your face goes un-kissed as he smothers you.
You giggle in delight and smush his face against your hand as you push him away. The oven timer then goes off. Perfect timing! Quickly grabbing the oven mitts, you bend over to collect the freshly baked cake. From behind you, you hear your lover groan.
“If you weren’t bending over a hot oven, I would totally smack that ass.”
“Sam Anthony Holland, you get your ass to the table so we can decorate this cake! What a little shit…” you finish mumbling.
You carefully walk over to the table where Sam had set up everything you need to decorate the cake while you had been making it. As you two chatter quietly to yourselves, you cut the cake into different shapes and attach them together with icing while looking at the reference picture as your boyfriend starts almost water coloring the fondant that covers the base of the cake. You two had made that piece yesterday, as it would have been impossible to complete the entire cake in one day.
When you finish constructing the object, you begin to carefully write the dainty words onto it…
5 hours, 1 flour, and 3 ½ icing wars later, you have completed your masterpiece. Good God you are exhausted! You better freaking win because if not, you are going to take this beautiful piece of art and shove it in everyone’s’ faces.
You lean on Sam heavily as he drapes his arm around your shoulder. He’s kind of hanging onto you because he is just as tired. Who knew decorating a cake could wear you so much? You situate the cake in the middle of the platter that the Holland family had gotten the boys a long time ago specifically for these cakes. With the help of Sammy boy you cover it with the lid. Tomorrow you will find out the results.
You are startled awake when Paddy jumps on you and Sam. Both you and your boyfriend groan in pain.
“It’s time! It’s time! We are going to vote now,” Paddy rushes to speak before sprinting out of the room. A few seconds later you both hear his footsteps scampering back, “Oh, and happy birthday, Sam!”
You just look at each other in amusement and start to shuffle out of bed. “Happy birthday, mon ange,” you whisper to him as you kiss him sweetly. You then proceed to bend down to grab the oddly shaped present that you had hidden under the bed.
Sam stares in aw, but refuses to take it. “No, love. You already helped me make Harry’s cake. Plus, just being with you is present enough.”
You wrinkle your nose at him and grin. “As sweet as that is, babe, just accept it.”
He sighs in defeat. “Fineee,” he says dramatically before quickly tearing it open. He gasps in excitement. “It’s us! In a book!” he cutely exclaims.
“Haha, yes my love. It’s a photo album.”
Sam takes you by surprise when he lunges at you. You two fall onto the bed because of the momentum. As he starts kissing you, Paddy arrives again.
“Ew, guys! I told you to come on already,” he whines before leaving once more.
Both of you giggle together as Sam aides you in standing back up. “Let’s get this show on the road then,” you egg Sam on as you walk together down the hallway into the dining room.
In said room, every Holland is looking a little bit fatigued but very excited nonetheless. It looks like Christmas day all over again.
In the center of the table lies both cakes covered with their dish covers to not ruin the surprise. You don’t know about Harry’s cake, but you sure are glad that the Holland parents had gotten these boys such ginormous platters because damn, the one that Sam and you had made was extremely large.
Paddy is practically buzzing with excitement as he waits for Sam and Harry to stand behind the cake that the other twin made for them.
The moment the cakes are unveiled, it seems like all of the air in the room is sucked out. Everyone except for you and Sam had gasped in amazement as they gazed at your cake.
Their eyes are glued to the realistic looking camera and suitcase. Attached to the beige bag is a blue passport, and there are special printed edible pictures adhered onto it with frosting. And perching on top of the case was the camera that you had baked the day before. It is quite the sight if you may say so.
Paddy breaks the unnerving silence. “Welp I choose Sam’s. Harry’s is cute and all with that La La Land themed, but it’s got nothing on Sam’s! How did you even do that?”
Everyone murmurs in agreement. “Y/N helped me,” your boyfriend boasts. “Try it! It’ll be the best you’ve ever tasted,” he continues to brag while you try to shut him up.
You’re blushing when you say, “It’s just an old recipe that I have. It’s really nothing.”
Tom, who had come home for a small break in his hectic filming schedule, starts moaning then. “Dis is da befst frukn thig eber,” he states. When your boyfriend’s family all agree, you blush.
“Okay everyone! I think it’s time to vote,” Sam rushes.
In one minute all the votes are cast, and Paddy finally makes the announcement. “We, the Holland family, have pronounce that the winner of this year’s Sam/Harry Twin Cake Duel-Off is… Sammy “Mon Ange” (at least according to Y/N. I still don’t know that it means) Holland with a 4 to 1 vote! Just saying, Harry, it was mum, and I’m pretty sure that she only did it out of pity.”
You all laugh at the end, and the whole lot congratulates Sam and you. Sam simply won’t shut up about you! The bragging is never ending with that boy, is it?
You turn to observe Harry and notice that he looks slightly glum. When you walk over you say, “Aw, Harry. Don’t feel bad about losing! It’s beautiful.”
Harry nods. “Yeah. I’m honestly not really mad or disappointed about it. Yours is really amazing. Thank you for the cake. I hope Dad took a picture before it was cut into.” Harry gives you a sweet hug
“Of course, dude! You’re like my brother! I’m glad you liked it. And I’m pretty sure he did. If not, Sam and I took quite a lot yesterday.”
Sam strides over to you and leans some of his weight on your side as he slips his arms around you. “Let’s try some of that scrumptious cake that you made.”
You snicker at him. “Scrumptious? Who says that? But yes, let’s. I’m also definitely trying Harry’s though too.”
Your partner nods his slightly red head. “Yeah! Thanks for the cake, man. It looks really nice.” His arm leaves your body when he wraps his arms around his twin. Sigh. How cute!
When they untangle from each other, Sam seizes your hand to pull you to the two baked goods. While he cuts a piece of the cake that you had baked together you collect a slice of Harry’s. It really is pretty.
You and your lover proceed to sit down at the table with the rest of the loving Hollands, but you too are in your own little world. God. You love him so damn much. And helping him out wasn’t so bad. You too had such a pleasurable time doing it together in the end.
In the enchanting bubble you and Sam had made with the love and affection for each other you and your loving boyfriend feed one another pieces of delectable cake. Sam blushes and giggles as you try to wipe the frosting that he had accidentally smeared on you. When you can’t seem to find it, Sam leans in and kisses the frosting away (that was apparently on the corner of your mouth) before moving to your lips. It is sweeter than any cake you have ever eaten and decide right then and there that there is nothing lovelier than the tender kiss of your soul mate.
this was kinda a request, I just elaborated and added a bit more. Idk how I feel about this one, but I hope you guys like it!!
The Man Across The Street
The sun shone heavily on your back causing warmth to spread through your entire body. It felt nice after spending eight hours in your air conditioned office space on the twelfth floor. You gripped your briefcase tightly in one hand and stretched your neck side to side before settling in a consistent stride.
You focused on the ground in front of you, watching as your shadow mimicked your poor posture and flat feet, until something else caught your eye.
The man across the street walked at an almost identical pace. You recognized him immediately as the guy who held the elevator door for you just minutes prior. You’d seen him around the building other times, as well; in the hallways, on the stairs, by the coffee bar on the main floor. That bright pink hair was painstakingly recognizable.
You pretended to ignore him the entire way home, only throwing glances out of the corner of your eye, until you stopped in front of your building. You watched for a moment as he continued down the street, one hand in his pocket, the other clutching a beige bag, never looking up from his feet.
- - - - - -
The cool autumn air gave rise to goosebumps all over your body. You wrapped your sweater around yourself tighter and continued down the cobblestone sidewalk. You kept your head up, marveling at the infinite shades of golds and reds that had taken over the city.
Leaves crunched under your flats, making an auditory note of every step you took. It covered up the sound of your breathing, which had grown heavier from the cold air shocking your system.
The man across the street paid no attention to the crunching leaves beneath his feet. You watched briefly as he kicked a few of them around before continuing on his way.
His hair matched the pink sunset overhead, bright and bold and beautiful.
It was the last thing you noticed before walking into your apartment for the night.
- - - - - -
Heavy snow fell from the sky. The street lamps lit up the sidewalk, illuminating the thousands of large flakes around you. You made a mental note to start wearing heavier boots to work for nights like this.
You tucked your gloved hands underneath each of your armpits and trudged home, trying to pay attention to each step you took so as not to fall.
The man across the street had a scarf, hat, and mittens on. You were jealous of how prepared he seemed to be for this snow storm. You made another mental note for yourself to start checking the weather before leaving for work each morning.
The man walked faster than you. His winter boots clearly had better traction than your dressy ones. As he got further ahead, you noticed the back of his hair poking out. Except, it wasn’t pink, it was yellow.
You trudged on and used it as your guiding light through the storm the whole way home.
- - - - - -
Spring had always been your least favorite season. Snow and ice melted with no boundaries, leaving traces of mud all over the sidewalk. You stomped your bulky boots through scummy puddles and tried not to splash remnants of it everywhere.
It wasn’t dark yet, which made you feel hopeful that this dirty weather wouldn’t be around for long.
The man across the street walked without a hat for the first time in months. You smiled seeing his yellow hair in full for the first time. It was bright and flashy. The kind of thing that demanded attention. It reminded you of blooming flowers and sunshine, infinite growth and beauty.
You walked home, your strides aligned once again. And as the sound of snow melting from building tops covered up the sound of your boot’s heavy stomps, you couldn’t help but notice his bright hair out of the corner of your eye the entire way home.
- - - - - -
The first thing you noticed upon leaving work was how freeing it felt to be outside once again without a heavy jacket weighing you down. You had brought one, just in case, but it lingered in your arms, unneeded and more of a burden than anything as you started your walk home. Summer was just visible in the horizon, but the weather still fluctuated between sunny and warm and breezy and cool, so it was impossible to ever be fully prepared.
The second thing you noticed upon leaving work was that the man across the street wasn’t there.
He’d been particularly easy to spot in the last few months with his yellow hair, but as you scanned the other side of the road, up and down, he was no where to be found. Your heart sunk a little, which surprised you. But you justified your disappointment as normal. He had become a part of your routine, just like eating a peanut butter and fluff sandwich everyday was. Your heart would sink if you opened your lunchbox to bologna, just as it did in the man’s absence. Nothing strange or unusual about being effected by a disrupted routine.
You frowned slightly before deciding it was time to head home. You walked for less than a minute before you heard rapid footsteps behind you and felt someone grip your elbow.
“Hi honey, how was your day?” A man’s voice asked.
You instinctively tried to jerk your arm away, but the grip was too strong. When you turned to look at who was grabbing you, you were shocked to see the man with yellow hair.
He leans down, close enough so that you can smell him, and whispers in your ear, “Someone’s following you.”
Once he’s confident you’re not going to shove him away, the man loops his arm with yours, leading you down the road en route to your apartment. He casts a couple glances over his shoulder, subtly trying to see if the person following you had gone. On his second glance, he sighs a breathe of relief and loosens his grip on your arm.
“He turned around.”
You automatically let go of his arm.
“Who was it?” you ask.
“I didn’t recognize him, which is what made me nervous… I’d never seen him before.”
You nod, exhaling the anxiety that had been building up inside of you. “Well, thanks. I appreciate it”
You were relieved to see you apartment building just over the hill. You didn’t feel much like walking alone the rest of the night.
The man nodded and extended his hand, “I’m Josh, by the way.”
You smiled, taking his hand in yours and shaking it, “Y/N.” you introduced.
“It’s nice to finally meet you,” he grinned.
You thought about his comment later that night as you laid in bed. You found yourself wondering if Josh had noticed your presence on the opposite side of the street as much as you’d noticed his.
- - - - - -
You felt slightly paranoid walking home the next day. You immediately noticed Josh across the way, which felt increasingly comforting, but you couldn’t help feel like someone was lingering behind you as you made your walk down the sidewalk.
You kept casting glances towards Josh. You found yourself wondering things about him, like which floor he worked on or what his inspiration for his sporadic hair colors were. Every time you would gaze for too long, he’d glance over and you’d quickly look away in response. You really had to work on your staring problem.
After three different occasions of awkward eye contact with Josh, you watched out of the corner of your eye as he looked both ways, then started jogging across the street.
“Hey,” he called, as he hurried to catch up to you. You stopped, of course, baffled and unsure as to whether or not he was talking to you. “Mind if I walk with you?”
You froze then, wondering immediately if the same person was following you again.
Josh noticed the fear on your face and put his hands up, “It’s okay to say no…” he says.
You lower your voice and try to whisper loud enough for just him to hear, “Are they following me again?”
“What?” Josh asks, confused momentarily before understanding what you were referencing, “Oh… no! No, no. I just thought maybe we could walk together tonight.”
You sigh a breathe of relief before smiling, “Yeah, that would be really nice. I’d like that.”
The two of you walked, side-by-side, step-by-step, all the way home.
You asked about his hair. The burning thought that had been on your mind for so long was finally set free. It turns out, Josh was bored by routines, but his hair was one thing he could be spontaneous about. The pink was an after-effect of a wild red. The yellow brightened his gloomy winter.
“What color is next?” you had asked.
“Only time will tell,” he says, his eyes shimmering.
Josh walked you right up to your apartment door before saying goodbye. You were so intrigued by everything he had to say, and had to admit you were disappointed to be at your doorstep. It was the first time you’d ever wished your walk home was longer.
- - - - - -
Every day in the weeks to follow, Josh was waiting outside of the building by the time you got out of work. His face always breaks into the same, huge smile when he sees you walking through the double doors, and you can never help but reciprocate.
You talk the entire way home, learning about each other. Likes, dislikes, pet peeves, funny childhood stories. Josh was a man of infinite laughter and curiosity. You looked forward to walking home with him daily. It was, often times, what got you through until five o’clock.
“How was work?” he asks, one evening, extending his arm for you to take.
You’re surprised by his gesture, but ultimately flattered. You latch on, and start walking with him down the cobblestone.
“It was long,” you respond. “How was yours?”
“Also long, equally boring. Why do we work these jobs?” he asks.
You shrug, “Gotta pay rent I guess.”
“I’m serious though— I mean. I hate my job, I don’t get why I do it.”
He’s silent for a moment, like he’s thinking hard. “What would you do—“ he finally says, “if you didn’t have to worry about rent or bills? If you could do anything?”
You furrow your brow, thinking about his question, “I suppose I’d travel.”
“Europe, I think.”
“Have you ever been?”
You shake your head. “No, I mean, I have work…”
“I think that’s a crime.”
You frown, “What do you mean?”
“That’s your dream, right? To go to Europe. And you’ve never been because of some dumb job you don’t even like.”
“Yeah,” you agree, “But I have responsibilities. I’m committed to my job. People count on me.”
“To what? Fax papers for them? It doesn’t really mean anything. Neither of our jobs do.”
You frown at Josh’s remark, offended by his blunt tone.
“I don’t understand what you’re getting at,” you say honestly.
He shakes his head, “Nothing. I’m just… bored.”
The two of you walk the rest of the way in silence.
- - - - - -
Josh isn’t waiting for you the next day. He’s not across the street either.
You walk the entirety of the way home without any pinks or yellows to brighten your day.
You hate how much it bothers you.
- - - - - -
You accept Josh’s outstretched arm, “Where were you yesterday?” you ask.
“Just a personal day,” he says. “Stayed home.”
“Oh… Well, I missed you.”
“Aw, you flatter me.”
“I mean it!” you say, “Walking home with you is my favorite part of the day.”
Josh stiffens beside you. You try to gage what he’s thinking by his face, but it’s too stoic.
“See?” he says, “How pathetic is it that a walk home with me is the highlight of your day?”
That was definitely not the reaction you were hoping for. You let go of his arm and step away from him.
You can’t really think of a response or defense, but it was clear that Josh didn’t feel the same way.
“Your life is boring. Just admit it! It has no meaning behind it. No passion. You do the same thing everyday, hoping that eventually, you’ll be happy. Or satisfied, or whatever it is. But you’re lying to yourself.”
“You don’t know anything about my life,” you say back sharply. “I like my job, and I like my life, just the way it is. Not all of us need radical hair colors and spontaneous life choices to be happy. Get off your high horse and don’t pretend like you know what’s good for me.”
Josh bites his lip, but has no response, so instead, you shake your head before picking up your pace, leaving him behind.
You ignore him as he calls after you.
- - - - - -
You make an effort to rush out of the building the next day, hopeful that you won’t run into Josh. Luckily, you’re out a solid ten minutes quicker than usual, and by the time you’re turning the corner on the cobblestone steps, he’s nowhere to be seen.
You walk the whole way home alone.
- - - - - -
This pattern continues until Friday when you’re forced to stay until five o’clock on the dot. You try not to think about seeing Josh outside as you ride the elevator down to the main floor, but as soon as you push through the double doors and look to the street, you see him. If he hadn’t been standing right by the lamp pole, you probably wouldn’t have recognized him. His hair was no longer bright or flashy. Instead, it was dulled down to an off-brown color. It didn’t catch your attention by any means and you frowned at the sight of it.
You almost skipped right over to him, before you remembered that you were mad for insulting your “boring life”. You huffed a little before walking down the steps and turning the corner, hoping to avoid his attention.
You should be so lucky,
“Hey!” he calls, rushing up behind you.
You ignore him and keep walking.
“Wait up!” he hollers. “Y/N, stop!”
“What do you want, Josh?” you snap, whipping around to face him.
He stops dead in his tracks, clearly taken aback by your harsh tone. The look on his face makes you feel slightly guilty for being to abrupt, but you hold your ground.
He scratches the back of his neck, looking anxious. He takes a deep breath before speaking.
“I just wanted to say goodbye.”
Your angry frown turns to confusion as his words sink in.
“Goodbye?” you ask, your tone civil again.
“Yeah, I quit.”
“You what?” you gasp.
“I quit my job. Just now actually.”
“Wh— what? Why?” you sputter.
“The only thing keeping me going, was the idea that everyone else was just as miserable as I was doing what I did. But not you. You’re happy. And you were right… I shouldn’t have judged you. I was wrong to assume that everyone was as depressed as me. But… I just.. It made me realize that I needed to get the hell out of here.”
You listen to his words, letting it sink in that he truly meant it. He was leaving. You shouldn’t be as upset as you were. Selfishly, you were mourning the infinite number of walks you thought the two of you had in the future. But hearing Josh admit to his misery made you logically ignore the voice in your head begging him to stay and instead ask him a question.
“What happened to your hair?”
He smiles, looking up to his forehead, as if he could see it in his peripherals.
“I don’t need interesting hair anymore, cause I’m going to have an interesting life.”
- - - - - -
Summer fades fast and the warm, humid air is replaced by a brisk breeze. You crossed your arms across your chest and shivered as the night set in. You were grateful to be wearing a hat on top of your head and a scarf around your neck. You let your eyes scan your surroundings, marveling at the infinite shades of golds and reds that had once again, taken over the city.
Leaves fell, crunching and blowing every which way, as autumn swept through, clearing out the old and making room for the new.
You stopped dead in your tracks at the turn with the cobblestone steps and gazed adoringly at the melted sunset in the horizon. The pouring pinks and blistering yellows caught your eye, reminding you of the man across the street and being your guiding light all the way home.