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🫧welcome to neo’s dreamscape
↳ most of my fics are 18+, therefore I am not comfortable with minors interacting with my work
↳ I give no permission for any person(s) to copy, repost, or translate my work on tumblr or any other site without my disclosure. I love writing, and plagiarism sucks the life out of my confidence in posting on tumblr.
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..who are you dreaming of today?
⋆｡°✩ steve grant rogers
⋆｡°✩ james ‘bucky’ barnes
⋆｡°✩ thor
⋆｡°✩ natasha romanoff
⋆｡°✩ stucky x reader
⋆｡°✩ clint
⋆｡°✩ bruce wayne
⋆｡°✩ avengers
⋆｡°✩ carmen berzatto
⋆｡°✩ miguel o’hara
⋆｡°✩ ari levinson
strictly neighbours series masterlist
beginnings;
incorrect mail and interrupting neighbours
the big hefty middle;
june
endings; a lovers morning
A lovers Morning ~ b.barnes
bucky x fem!reader
summary : you and bucky enjoy a morning together basking in the warmth that is your love.
warning : hints of nsfw/ smut if you squint, otherwise pure and utter fluff (srsly enough to stuff a grown man) pls tell me if i’ve missed anything!
notes : first fic! equal parts excited and equal parts terrified lol. kind of a first instalment? hints of fics within this fic so ask away if you want them! Probably not qualified to call myself a “writer” but who cares, enjoy darlings x
Mornings were never my thing, always sore from sleeping positions, always irritated to be woken from my eternal slumber. I never truly understood the essence of mornings, the culture of rising with the sun, when instead one could sleep until the moons of the day, only woken by the bustling nonsense of taxis being hauled and disgruntled pedestrians murmuring amongst themselves. Truly, the sea of people, of life, instead was what woke me. I was content in the way I had lived my life like this, sticking to routine, finding comfort in the way in which my mornings and afternoons, gliding into each other.
That was until I had met him. My brunette lover. In some wicked way, the universe had dealt the cards of my destiny, and in that he was the man I would lie with. The beginning had begun, with our mails being mixed, my large boxed packages of makeup, clothes, folder notes filled with work I’d procrastinated while his were handwritten letters and books tied with string.