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Hiii

Just read your weighted blanket fic and absolutely loved it….Do you also write for Steve rogers?

Hi there, I'm so happy you enjoyed the fic!! It's gotten a lot more attention than I expected but I'm definitely pleasantly surprised by all the positive feedback! 🥹

Unfortunately though I don't write for Steve Rogers, I've never felt confident enough to pin his character down accurately 😅 I do however write and take requests for Bucky and Loki, as far as Marvel characters go, so if I can offer you one of them instead, I'm happy to write for you!

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i was craving toast for breakfast this morning but i dont own a toaster. my boyfriend asked me why i wanted toast and i said i didnt know but it sounded really good. this lovely man didnt respond but he grabbed a pan, googled how to make toast without a toaster and made me breakfast. he also kissed me a bunch in between. ladies i am blessed

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Weighted Blanket-Boyfriend

Bucky Barnes x reader

Word count: 596

A/N: @kilibaggins hey! So it's been ages since you requested this on my previous account, @shaynawrites23, and I'm so sorry for the wait! I've been on a long life-hiatus and decided it was time for a fresh start. I don't know if you're still active on here but if you are, I hope you enjoy it! Hope you're doing well, my friend 💚

“Curse these stupid curtains,” you groan, flopping back face-down on your bed after your nth attempt to close them in a way they block out all the sunlight. But the previous tenant of your apartment was the type who enjoyed things that looked fancy or expensive but weren’t as effective as the cheaper version. These curtains were one such example–they were designer brand, according to the gold embroidery somewhere along the bottom, but they were slightly too small to cover the windows entirely. The previous tenant must not have minded, but today you decided you did.

Especially with your pounding headache.

You can’t help but groan again at how your attempts to sink into complete darkness by burying your face in the mattress, the pillow, or the blanket each prove unsuccessful. Even the slightest fraction of light feels like it amplifies the pain in your head, and the painkiller you took an hour ago has yet to take effect.

“You sure you’re alright, doll?” Bucky stands in the doorway of your bedroom, expression filled with concern and holding a glass of what you can only guess is more water for you. 

“No,” you grumble, now trying to cover your face with both your hands, but holding them there simply requires too much energy to allow you to nap and sleep off the headache. “Too much light and my head is killing me.”

“‘m sorry,” he murmurs sympathetically as he places the glass down on your nightstand and touches a hand–his cool, metal hand–to your forehead. “This help?”

It does, slightly. The cool sensation is just enough to ease the headache by a fraction, but it’s not enough relief for you. “Yeah,” you sigh, grabbing his wrist to keep his hand there. “But I know what would help more. Will you come lay on top of me?”

His brow furrows. “You mean lay with you? Sure, I can do that.”

“No, on top of me.” Batting away his hand, you lay flat on your back and open up your arms to signal exactly what you want. “Like a weighted blanket, or something. Please? It’d be comforting.”

Bucky Barnes, six foot hunk of a super-soldier, can’t decide whether to gently tell you he shouldn’t, out of fear he’d squash you like a bug on accident, or give in because you seem to really need it. But then you look up at him with the most pleading, puppy-dog eyes he’s ever seen, and all protests die in his throat. 

“Okay, darlin’, but if I get too heavy or you can’t breathe, you gotta tell me. Just push me or somethin’ and I’ll get off, yeah?”

You nod, eager to experience weighted blanket-boyfriend before he changes his mind. He’s got one arm on each side of your head as he lowers himself onto you, and not only do you get to enjoy the comforting way his body presses yours into the mattress, but the way his arms encase your head envelops you in the darkness you’ve been seeking your respite in for so long. He shifts slightly, just enough to hug you to him with an arm sliding under your back, but you don’t protest; you only need to bury your face in his shoulder to keep the light out. Your arms wrap around his waist and you sigh in contentment, whispering a muffled thank you as your eyes flutter closed.

“Anytime, doll,” comes the reply as he presses a soft kiss to the crown of your head.

And that’s how you finally drift off to sleep, in Bucky’s embrace.

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Pizza and a Comforting Embrace

Cary Agos x reader

Word count: 588

A/N: @littlebirdygirlywriting hey! I know you requested this almost a year ago on my old account (@shaynawrites23) and I'm so sorry I never got to it before now. It's been a long hiatus with a lot of life things, but I miss fic writing and definitely for Cary, so here you are! I'm still stretching my writing muscles again after my long break, but I hope it's a little bit like what you had in mind. Hope you're having a lovely day/month/year yourself! 😊💛

Cary Agos knows a bit about what it’s like to have a… tense relationship with one’s parents. There are times, however, that he has to wonder if having absent parents might be better than what you have. And this evening, finding you in tears upon his return to your shared apartment after work, is one of those times.

“Hey, hey, hey.” Cary is by your side in moments, briefcase forgotten by the door that he barely remembered to shut properly before the concern took over. Kneeling in front of where you’re hunched over on the couch, a tissue balled up in your hand, he takes the other and looks up at you as his thumb strokes your wrist. “What’s wrong?”

“I just-” You’re cut off by a sniffle, and a hiccup that sounds too close to a sob for Cary to like it. Instead, you just nudge your phone in his direction, silently encouraging him to open it and see for himself.

When he does, he’s certainly not pleasantly surprised by what he sees. A litany of texts from your father in tones ranging from neutral to upset to outright angry. He calls you unpleasant things in them too–things like stupid, ungrateful bitch–and heaps blame upon you for the tension and the distance, the lack of communication between him and you. It’s like an emotional outburst, but one directed entirely at you as he throws a fit about how you clearly want nothing to do with him, how you should just tell him if you want to go no-contact so he won’t take up any more of your precious time. Cary doesn’t bother reading the rest of them, simply tossing the device aside onto the couch cushions and gathering you into his arms with a sigh.

You can’t help the sob that escapes you upon feeling the warmth and love of his embrace. Cary truly does love you, he loves you in all the ways you’ve ever dreamt of, and him showing you as much during these emotional moments is almost more than you can bear. The contrast between his affections and the lack thereof from your father has you in more tears than before your beloved lawyer came home, but at least they’re tears from being comforted. 

“I love you,” you gasp out against his shoulder between sobs. “I love you so much, Cary.”

“Love you too,” he murmurs into the crown of your head, not letting go for even a moment. He knows how much you need to be held right now. His hand runs gently up and down your back, and you melt further into him, arms wrapping tighter around his midriff. “And forget your dad, he’s being a prick. You don’t owe him anything. Just do what makes you happy, yeah baby?”

“Okay,” you sniffle. “Thanks, Cary.”

“Always.” You know he means it; Cary is always there for you no matter what. “Now how about I get us some pizza and your favorite soda, and we can spend the rest of the night doing things that make you happy? I’ll watch that show with you, the one you’re always talking about.”

“Okay.” Your voice is softer now, more even and relaxed, but your face remains buried in Cary’s now tear-stained white button-up. No matter, he needed to do laundry anyways. “Yes please, that sounds nice.”

And as Cary picks up the phone to call your favorite pizza place, you know in your heart that as long as you’re together, everything’s going to be okay.

[littlebirdygirlywriting]

Awwww, this is so sweet. 🥹 And thank you thank you THANK YOU for writing the request!! You totally didn’t have to, so I appreciate it so so much, and I’m so glad to see you back—I hope life is treating you better now and that you get to write to your heart’s content. 🫶🏻

If you’re ever in want of Cary requests, let me know! I can definitely give you more, but only if you’re wanting. 🥰 Thank you so much again for this!

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Omg of course, it was my pleasure!! I know requests are no pressure, but once the burnout properly faded, inspiration struck for yours so fast, I had to write it! I'm so happy you enjoyed it 🥹

And I would love more Cary requests actually, yes please! I love his character so much and ngl I'm determined to populate the cary agos x reader tag even if I'm doing it entirely by myself 😆 So definitely, please feel free to send in anything you'd like to see written!

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Pizza and a Comforting Embrace

Cary Agos x reader

Word count: 588

A/N: @littlebirdygirlywriting hey! I know you requested this almost a year ago on my old account (@shaynawrites23) and I'm so sorry I never got to it before now. It's been a long hiatus with a lot of life things, but I miss fic writing and definitely for Cary, so here you are! I'm still stretching my writing muscles again after my long break, but I hope it's a little bit like what you had in mind. Hope you're having a lovely day/month/year yourself! 😊💛

Cary Agos knows a bit about what it’s like to have a… tense relationship with one’s parents. There are times, however, that he has to wonder if having absent parents might be better than what you have. And this evening, finding you in tears upon his return to your shared apartment after work, is one of those times.

“Hey, hey, hey.” Cary is by your side in moments, briefcase forgotten by the door that he barely remembered to shut properly before the concern took over. Kneeling in front of where you’re hunched over on the couch, a tissue balled up in your hand, he takes the other and looks up at you as his thumb strokes your wrist. “What’s wrong?”

“I just-” You’re cut off by a sniffle, and a hiccup that sounds too close to a sob for Cary to like it. Instead, you just nudge your phone in his direction, silently encouraging him to open it and see for himself.

When he does, he’s certainly not pleasantly surprised by what he sees. A litany of texts from your father in tones ranging from neutral to upset to outright angry. He calls you unpleasant things in them too–things like stupid, ungrateful bitch–and heaps blame upon you for the tension and the distance, the lack of communication between him and you. It’s like an emotional outburst, but one directed entirely at you as he throws a fit about how you clearly want nothing to do with him, how you should just tell him if you want to go no-contact so he won’t take up any more of your precious time. Cary doesn’t bother reading the rest of them, simply tossing the device aside onto the couch cushions and gathering you into his arms with a sigh.

You can’t help the sob that escapes you upon feeling the warmth and love of his embrace. Cary truly does love you, he loves you in all the ways you’ve ever dreamt of, and him showing you as much during these emotional moments is almost more than you can bear. The contrast between his affections and the lack thereof from your father has you in more tears than before your beloved lawyer came home, but at least they’re tears from being comforted. 

“I love you,” you gasp out against his shoulder between sobs. “I love you so much, Cary.”

“Love you too,” he murmurs into the crown of your head, not letting go for even a moment. He knows how much you need to be held right now. His hand runs gently up and down your back, and you melt further into him, arms wrapping tighter around his midriff. “And forget your dad, he’s being a prick. You don’t owe him anything. Just do what makes you happy, yeah baby?”

“Okay,” you sniffle. “Thanks, Cary.”

“Always.” You know he means it; Cary is always there for you no matter what. “Now how about I get us some pizza and your favorite soda, and we can spend the rest of the night doing things that make you happy? I’ll watch that show with you, the one you’re always talking about.”

“Okay.” Your voice is softer now, more even and relaxed, but your face remains buried in Cary’s now tear-stained white button-up. No matter, he needed to do laundry anyways. “Yes please, that sounds nice.”

And as Cary picks up the phone to call your favorite pizza place, you know in your heart that as long as you’re together, everything’s going to be okay.

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First Lemonade

Bucky Barnes x reader

Word count: 360

A/N: Based off the prompt 'Lemonade' off of @juniebjonesin's July event list! I had to spin the wheel because there were too many fun prompts 😂 And my first venture back into the world of fanfic since I left my old blog a couple years ago, so what better way to come back than with some Bucky fluff!

In all your years knowing him, you have never seen James Buchanan Barnes look as flabbergasted as the way he’s currently looking at you. It’s a good thing he’d already set his box of cereal down, you think, since otherwise you predict there would have been a non-zero chance of somebody needing to clean spilled Fruity Pebbles off the floor. 

“What?” you ask, blinking twice at him as he gapes at you.

“You’ve never had lemonade-?”

“Never,” you confirm. Reassured it’s nothing actually serious, you attempt to move past him to start the kettle for your cup of morning tea, but he stops you with a hand on your arm. Gentle, just like he always is with you.

“Doll, I don’t believe you understand the gravity of what you just told me. You are in America - the United States of America - and you have never had a cool, refreshing, heaven-sent glass of lemonade?”

“Nope.” At this point you’re biting back a smile. This big, buff, beefcake of a man who has crowds instinctively parting to let him pass just because of his stature, this soldier who has seen more horrors and inexplicable mysteries than you could fathom, this is the same man who can’t comprehend how lemonade seems to have evaded you up until now. “See, it wasn’t really a thing where I’m from. Typically people just drank iced tea or soda.”

“Iced tea is good,” he affirms, and you take this moment of relenting as your chance to actually start the kettle. “But you still can’t live here and never have had a traditional American lemonade. Hell, you can’t be dating me, an American and not have had American lemonade. You know what? Darlin’, make sure the pitcher is clean. I gotta go to the store and when I’m back I’m making you lemonade.”

He’s halfway to the door before you process it. “Bucky? What are you getting from the store?”

“Lemons and sugar, doll!” he calls back, and not a moment later you hear the door latch shut behind him.

Can’t help loving him, you think to yourself with a smile. Even if he is a dork sometimes.

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Masterlist

Bucky Barnes

First Lemonade

Weighted Blanket-Boyfriend

Cary Agos

Pizza and a Comforting Embrace