#whotheeffisbucky writing challenge

[hellomissmabel]

A thirst for whiskey and gold (7)

MASTERLIST

Pairing: Lance Tucker x photographer!plus size!reader

Warnings: Mentions of suicide following a war trauma, PTSD, suicide is not described in a graphic way but still explicitly worded how. Foul language, talk of sex.

Word count: 4k

Summary: Soulmate AU where people see their whole life flash by before their eyes when they first kiss their soulmate. After Y/N receives word of her husband James’ death, she moves to Ohio where her best friend Karen has just given birth to a baby girl, hoping to find some piece of mind. Karen has asked Y/N to be the godmother and it just so happens Lance is the godfather to this little bundle of joy. One night, Lance gets drunk with some of his friends and they play ‘truth or dare’ which leads to an unexpected discovery.

A/N: Written for @whotheeffisbucky

Series masterlist can be found here

There’s a Greek myth you’ve always loved, about how soulmates were reportedly created. At first, a human being consisted of two people merged as one. They were completely, unconditionally happy. But Zeus grew jealous of their happiness and decided to cut all of them in half.

Once he split every human in two, these humans were no longer happy or complete. On the contrary, they would search their entire life for that same feeling of being complete again in the arms of their loved one, their soulmate. Some found their other half, others didn’t, but when they found their soulmate they’d forsake all nourishment in favour of that feeling of being complete again.

But they would never feel the same again, never be as complete as when they were still one unity, one body. So Zeus started to feel sorry for the humans and felt bad for what he had done to them. He decided to fix the damage and give the humans the ability to love and make love to one another.

Love was a substitute for being complete again, as love would never allow the same level of unity. Therefore the act of making love was introduced, to at least let humans experience this level of unity again in the same bodily way, just like before they were torn apart.

Making love for the first time, with your soulmate, it changes everything. It changes the way you feel, the way you think and act, maybe even the way you see the world. You slept with Lance Tucker and you have no idea how to feel about that.

After what happened at the gym between you and Lance, you didn’t talk to him for another two days. You didn’t know what to think of it, your thoughts jumbled and your feelings making your insides churn. Karen was getting increasingly worried as her NYE dinner was only one day away and you and Lance are supposed to go together.

He’s a cocky bastard and you’ve never been one to be seduced by the bad boy type. You prefer your men to be good guys, sweet guys, adorable dorks with a heart of gold. You don’t want a womanizer who spends his spare time chatting up girls in bars and getting laid on the premise of his former glory – and his notorious tattoo.

Your phone didn’t light up with missed calls from Lance. On the contrary, it stayed eerily quiet. Even when the day came round that you and Lance had scheduled your photo session. Albeit dragging yourself out of the house, you picked up your camera equipment and headed to the gym. You were early, very early, and so you waited on one of the benches while playing with your settings a little.

Soon girls started to flow in and you felt increasingly uncomfortable. If these are the girls Lance trains with, you don’t stand a chance, soulmate or not. You were beginning to realise what he saw in Mimi, spending his days around these gorgeous, lean girls with a perfect figure. When eventually Lance walks into the gym with his usual swagger, you straighten your back and get up to meet him halfway.

His face exhibits clear signs of shock as he did not expect to see you here. “Hi, Y/N!” Lance swings his bag to his other hand so he can give you a small hug, but you take step a back and smile apologetic. Fortunately he understands you’re not a big fan of physical contact at the moment.

“So are you ready?” He nods and tells you he’s just going to change into his work-out clothes in his office. There’s no cheeky smile or a sexual innuendo that follows, he just goes into his office with a sad look in his eyes. A pang of guilt follows and you have to calm your heart before it jumps out of your chest.

Once Lance emerges from his office, he calls all the girls around him and it’s back to business. You take photographs of the girls’ routines and of Lance correcting their figure or showing them how it’s supposed to be done. Sometimes your eyes linger a little longer on Lance, especially when he effortlessly demonstrates a triple backflip. At the end of practice, your memory card is about half full and you thank all the girls for being so professional about it.

Some ask when they can see the photographs and show genuine interest in your work, though others don’t show the slightest interest, bidding goodbye to Lance with a flirty grin.

“So… I’m next?” He scratches the back of his head with a shy smile. It’s the first time you actually see him with a blush on his cheeks and an insecure look in his eyes.

“Yeah, just show me a couple routines that you normally do and maybe a previews of what you wanna do at the Olympics?”

“Alright, I can do that,” he chuckles softly, pulling his shirt over his head and catching you off guard.

“What on earth are you doing?,” you snap at him with a slightly horrified look on your face as you take in his chiselled chest.

Lance just shrugs and it looks like he’s back to his old ways. “I’m sweaty,” he replies casually, taking a swing at the bars first, flexing his arms and though you don’t like to admit it, much to your entertainment he makes a little bit of a show out of it, grunting and groaning while he perfectly delivers his routines.

Once he’s finished, little beads of sweat are dripping over his chest and you lick your lips at the sight. Although you try to be subtle about it, Lance catches you gazing anyway and struts towards you, shaking his hips as an imaginary song plays in his head. It makes you laugh, the sound freeing you from the chains of insecurity that caused the distance between you and Lance to become almost unbearable.

“When do you think I can pick you up tomorrow?” He figures you’ve danced around each other for long enough, going straight for the kill.

You stutter a little at first, thinking of how much time and effort you’re gonna have to put in editing the photographs before they’re ready to be send to your editor. “Maybe around seven?”

His face instantly perks up now you’ve confirmed you still want to go to the party with him. In his happy daze, he quickly and unexpectedly pecks your lips. Once he realises what he’s done, he curses under his breath and walks away.

You have half a mind to follow him to his office and stop Lance before he can go inside. “Hey, Lance, it’s okay.” Resting a hand on his arm, you give him a reassuring smile before you drop your hand again. “I’m not saying I didn’t… like that,” you confess gingerly, “But it’s too soon after… you know…”

Lance bows his head and hums a quiet ‘yes’. You don’t want to end on such a low note and press a chaste kiss to his cheek, Lance’s hand smoothing over the skin you just kissed when he gazes up at you with a boyish smile.

He doesn’t have to say thank you as you can already see it in his eyes, a little grin tugging on the corners of your lips as you walk backwards to the exit. You only turn around when he gives you a small wave and you’ve woven back.

“What is Lance going as again?,” Karen disrupts your thoughts as you’re zipping up your dress before she returns the favour. Karen is dressed as the Goddess Hera to Ethan’s Zeus, as Karen is the one that planned the event in the first place and Ethan arranged the venue.

“The self-proclaimed God of Gymnastics apparently,” you shake your head as you reply, rolling your eyes at Lance’s humour. “Well, at least he’s got the abs of a Greek sculpture.” Your comment makes Karen cackle in hearty laughter, and you’re happy that the mood is so light considering Mimi is also coming to the ball.

“The self-proclaimed God of Gymnastics and his Goddess of Spring.”

Karen makes you twirl around and gives you a nod of approval. You’re all set and ready to go. Some of the guests have already arrived at the venue, waiting for Karen to assign them their seat at the dinner table, but she wanted to steal a moment of your time first to talk about something important. She has yet to tell you what’s so important.

“Hey, it was you that picked out the theme! Gods and Goddesses of New Year’s Eve,” you bounce back with a laugh, bubbling up from deep in your chest with genuine feeling.

It’s been too long since you’ve felt this kind of light-heartedness, the joy of simply living life instead of just existing. You have no idea what changed, but maybe it’s Lance’s dozen of roses he got you when he came to pick you up. Or maybe it’s the good news from your editor that your pictures are outstanding and she’ll publish them first thing next week.

Karen rolls her eyes and agrees. “So… what I wanted to talk to you about…” She leaves a dramatic pause, scanning your face for the truth about what she’s going to ask you. “Are you and Lance officially together now? Like, a proper couple? Boyfriend and girlfriend? Dating?”

You gaze down to your hands, fumbling with the roses of your dress. “No, we’re not. We are…” You mull over the words in your mind, hoping you’re not overestimating Lance’s feelings for you. “Weighing our options.”

Melinda rushes inside just in time to hear those final words, dressed as the Goddess of Wisdom Athena, pumping her fists in the air in victory once she registered your sentence. “Weighing your options? That totally means you’re dating, Y/N!”

“No, it doesn’t!,” you pipe up, your voice a pitch higher than usual. You thought you were doing a pretty good job at hiding what you and Lance did the day after the snowstorm. So far, you figured nobody suspected you and Lance had sex and you made Lance swear he wouldn’t boast about it to anyone, not even his best friend Ethan.

Humming her words, Melinda goes on to speak about how Hope saw you head inside the gym yesterday with your camera. “You did go through with the photoshoot, right?”

“Please tell me you did. You have to think about the soul mark, too, Y/N,” Karen joins Melinda, her brows furrowed.

“Yes, we had the photoshoot. But I can’t exactly force myself to love him, now can I?!,” you defend yourself against your two friends, getting agitated by them probing around in your love life.

They mean well and you know they do, but somehow you’re more on edge when talking about him. It’s like you feel the need to protect him and defend yourself towards others because they’re so quick to judge.

“I know I have to think about the soul mark,” you whisper gloomily, “I know that it can disappear and I know that will mean we are no longer soulmates. But I am trying to accept Lance as my soulmate.”

Ethan peaks his head around the corner, alerting Karen that more guests have arrived and that her presence is required. “You can’t rush love. It’s already a big step for you to let someone else in after… James,” she smiles warmly as she squeezes your hands in hers.

“I heard from Mike that Lance told the guys the mark is brighter again, so that’s a good sign.” Melinda sits down next to you and her voice takes a softer tone, as if she’s about to handle you with velvety gloves. “Mike also says Lance was a bit reluctant to talk about the night you got snowed in. That he was very vague about it. Did something happen, Y/N?”

Locking eyes with her, you know you can’t keep this a secret for much longer. If Mike is already asking question, Mike who is always oblivious to the most obvious of things, then surely Ethan and Oliver have already picked up there is something going on. “I slept with Lance,” you suddenly blurt out.

“NO WAY!,” both women exclaim in unison, eyes going back and forth between you and them. Then they just gasp while scanning you from head to toe as if they can’t believe you actually did sleep with Lance.

“How was it?,” Melinda is the first one to ask.

Shrugging with one shoulder, you try to brush off the subject as quickly as possible. “The date was super romantic, the sex not so much. It was –“ Pursing your lips as you’re trying to find the right word, you then decide on “Hungry.” With a nod, you confirm you statement one more time. “Hungry, sweaty sex.”

“The best kind,” Melinda agrees with a girly giggle, prompting a baffled laugh from Karen and you, too. The girls don’t ask you any more questions, just leave the subject there for you to pick up again if you wanted to or felt the need to talk about it.

“I just gotta touch up my make-up a little and then I’m ready to roll,” you tell your friends when they join their soulmates and already head downstairs. You check your eyeliner and hairdo, deciding to adjust your lipstick and add some more blush before following them.

Suddenly there’s another knock on the door and you figure it must be Lance, wondering what’s taking you so long. You tell him to come in, only to see from the mirror it’s not Lance but Mimi. Snapping your head in her direction, you lock eyes and immediately ask her what she wants.

“Nice dress,” she comments, seemingly unimpressed. “The Goddess of Tulle and a fat ass, hm?”

Mimi is dressed in a black, luscious yet see-through dress that leaves little to the imagination. When she notices you’re scoffing at her choice of attire, she flips you off and tells you she’s the Goddess of Night. “I bet Lance will love it.”

“Don’t be stupid, Mimi. What you and Lance had was a fling.” Standing up from your seat, your dress elegantly flowing from your curves, you walk past Mimi to the door and not so accidentally bump your shoulder to hers.

“And you’re a fat cow!,” she yells at you in frustration. She really can’t take it when people talk back, even though she’s the one that started the argument in the first place. “You don’t deserve Lance. Just like you didn’t deserve James.”

It’s as if you’re frozen in time and nailed to the spot. You’re absolutely sure Karen never told her sister about James. She swore it on the life of her future child that she would never, ever tell anyone but Ethan, who was James’ best friend and buddy in the army.

With a menacing look, you turn around and point a stern finger at the girl. “What did you just say?”

There’s victory in her eyes as she notices she’s hit quite a sensitive nerve. “What do you think Lance will say or do when he finds out what happened to James? It’s your fault he’s dead.”

Mimi bats away your hand and you react instinctively, striking her hard across the cheek to punish her for her audacity. “You have no right to speak his name. You have no right to accuse me of his death.”

Despite looking scandalised, you can’t wipe that triumphant look off her face. “He came back from the war with severe PTSD, and you did nothing. You let him kill himself.”

A series of flashbacks violently resurface, most of them from the day you found James in your bedroom, with no pulse and a bullet through the head. You vividly recall the blood spatter and how your hands were stained red when you cradled his face in your hands in disbelief.

“I loved him, in sickness and in health, till death do us part.”

Clenching your jaw, you contemplate whether to slap Mimi again, or keep your anger to yourself and not give in to her bullying. She’s obviously trying to lure you out and frankly, it’s working. “James was a broken man when he returned. He saw young, small children blow themselves up because their parents are dead and the regime fed them lies, telling them it’s for a noble cause.”

“You have no idea of the horrors he saw there. You have no idea and how could you? You’re just a foolish girl who’s jealous and envious because a boy she likes doesn’t like her back.”

Mimi’s face is aw shite as a sheet, intimidated by the darkness of your words, your voice deeper than usual as you recall the images James had stuck in his head, the stories he told you that still haunt you to this day.

When you think you’ve said enough to stop her childish actions, Mimi surprises you once more. You’re almost out the door, your back turned to her again, when she delivers the final blow, plays her last card in the hopes of bringing you down with her.

“Lance ‘the fucker’ Tucker,” she rushes out in one heavy breath. “We fucked, you know, two days ago. He was at the bar, we were both hammered and started making out. He took me back to his place and we fucked. So it seems he isn’t as loyal to you as you think.”

When you see Lance waiting for you like a prince straight from a fairy-tale, or more likely a god straight from mount Olympus, your heart does that weird little dance move again. Once downstairs, he takes your hand in his and instantly intertwines your fingers, as if he wants to show everyone that you are in fact his.

“Your highness,” he chuckles playfully into your ear as he kisses your cheek.

“I’m not a queen, Lance. I’m the Goddess of Spring. Persephone, remember? I told you the Greek myth in the car.”

“Well,” Lance winks while jokingly pinching your ass. “We did other stuff in the car as well. Can you blame me for not remembering your lecture on Greek mythology.”

You immediately press a finger to his lips to silence him, afraid someone might be eavesdropping on your conversation, sending him a dirty look as well for being so talkative. “We kissed, that’s all.”

Lance wiggles his brows suggestively. “A French kiss,” he replies with a shit-eating grin and you playfully slap his arm in your defence.

Karen is busy assigning seats so you figure you will find your spot by yourself, searching for Ethan’s name since Karen must’ve placed the four of you together anyway. But much to your surprise and disappointment, your name isn’t anywhere near Ethan’s.

Instead it’s at least two tables away and next to three empty seats, two of which don’t have a name tag, just a card that says ‘reserved’. But luckily there’s Ben and Hope sitting right across from you, Hope dressed as the Goddess of Victory.

“You know who these seats are for?,” you ask Hope to see if she knows who the mystery guests are.

Holding up the card next to Ben, she mumbles Mimi’s name. “Can’t believe Karen seated her on our table,” she scoffs and Lance joins in on her discontent, humming in dismay.

You only chuckle nervously, Mimi’s confession still fresh in your mind. There’s a part of you that wants to believe she’s lying to you, because it could just easily be another trick to get back with Lance. But a part of you is nagging and itching and scratching at you. There’s a part of you that believes Lance would easily succumb to his old ways if he thought you’d turned him down.

Your smile never quite reaches your eyes when Lance bites his lip, looking about ready to devour you. All you have to do is get through the night and avoid repeating your earlier mistakes. No hot ‘n heavy make-out session and certainly no sex. Just innocent teasing and light flirtations, so he doesn’t suspect a thing.

“Yeah, what is wrong with Karen?,” Lance groans as he remembers Christmas Eve and how childish she acted, not just towards him but also towards you. He already expected Mimi to throw all her shit at him for cheating on her with Hope, but that Mimi would do anything to discredit you, that’s taking it a step too far.

Ethan takes the microphone and thanks everyone for coming, passing along the microphone to Karen who begins her speech. You only listen half to what she’s saying, enraptured by the man sitting next to you. There’s way too much gel in his hair and it’s too sleek for your taste since you like a little bit of fluffy hair you can card your hands through. It does make him look regal, you have to give him that.

As Karen is nearly finished with her speech when the doors behind you creak open as the final guests arrive a modest fifteen minutes late. All the heads turn in their direction and Karen even interrupts her speech to see who dares to walk in now when she’s almost done. You’re glaring daggers when you see who is the first one to strut inside but soon it turns into a panicking gaze when the other two mystery guests finally show their face.

In walks Mimi and behind her is Irina, ironically dressed as the Goddess of Love, Aphrodite. However, holding Irina’s hand is her little girl, Lance’s daughter Adriana.

Here are the dresses I used as inspiration (pics found on pinterest, so I don’t own them!)

Karen’s dress:

Mimi’s dress:

Hope’s dress:

The reader’s dress:

Irina’s dress:

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[justsomebucky]

After Words

Summary: Bookshop AU. Reader finds a book with some handwritten notes inside and sets out to find the person responsible.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word Count: 6,690

Warnings: language, fluff, mentions of anxiety, one mention of PTSD, mentions of mental health issues, I love italicizing things, and I make fun of people calling other people snowflakes

A/N: This is for @whotheeffisbucky​‘s AU Writing Challenge. Thanks for letting me participate! Sorry if it’s a mess!

Your first Friday night in Queens wasn’t very exciting.

Maybe that’s just how adulthood was. Maybe adulthood was rushing around and paying bills and feeling generally tired all the time.

“I know,” you repeated, switching your phone to the other ear as you wandered into the living room of your new apartment. A few floorboards creaked under your feet as you stepped gingerly around some discarded bubble wrap. “My door is locked, Jane. I’m fine.”

“You don’t sound fine,” Jane insisted, using her motherly tone. “You sound overwhelmed. Maybe I should come visit.”

Well, okay, you could admit that Queens wasn’t exactly as glamorous as Manhattan or as popular as Brooklyn, but you still loved it.

Your new apartment was very, very small, but it was really all you could afford right now. Your editing internship at The Village Voice didn’t pay very well, but without experience, you knew you’d be worse off. Besides, you had some freelance work on the side that helped pay for groceries and some of your student loans.

Not everyone you knew was quite so willing to settle. Your best friend in the whole wide world, Jane Foster, was a super genius headed to Switzerland to do her own freelance gig for the European Organization for Nuclear Research. She wouldn’t be back until after Christmas.

The two of you grew up together and this was your first time being separated for any length of time, but maybe this was the step you both needed. You were so very different.

Naturally, she was more concerned with you and your safety than her own, even though she was going to CERN to smash up some sub-atomic particles (which seemed pre-tty dangerous to you).

“Visit me? Are you kidding?” You shook your head, even though no one was there to see your astonishment. “You don’t have time with your big trip is coming up. You need to prepare for that all your science-y stuff.”

“I’m not going to have any fun changing my field forever while knowing my best friend is alone and scared in a new place,” she replied flatly.

You rolled your eyes. “I am not alone and scared.”

“Fine, who’s with you right now?”

Jane just didn’t get it.

Your eyes darted around the room, which was dimly lit by the Ikea lamp you’d purchased before moving. There was a small couch and end table, a TV mounted to the wall, and a lot of unopened boxes. It was going to take some work, but it would feel like home soon…hopefully.

You moved forward and flopped down on the couch, kicking your feet up onto the arm rest.

“I’m surrounded by millions of New Yorkers, and my neighbors are super loud, too. There’s no way to feel alone here, Jane.”

She scoffed. “Y/N…”

“Jaaaane,” you mimicked, closing your eyes. “I have work to do. It might be a freelance piece, but there are still deadlines. It’s due in two weeks and I haven’t even begun to research.”

“What’s it about?”

“The stigma surrounding mental health care and problems.”

“Good luck. You’re gonna need it.”

Your eyes popped open and you stared straight ahead, noting that the ceiling could really use a paint job. “Why do you say that?”

“Because you’re going to be up against those morons who call people snowflakes for getting help. Not that they should take a minute of your time, but…”

“But they’re going to comment, as all internet trolls do,” you finished lamely. You could practically see the comment section now. “I did think about that, Jane, but I’m writing this piece anyway. I’m anxiety’s posterchild and I wish people talked about mental health more openly.”

“Me too. Hey, I have to get going, Y/N, but send me a draft, okay?”

There was no way she’d have time to read it, but you appreciated the sentiment. Best friends were considerate like that.

“Will do. Love you.”

“I love you, too. We’ll Facetime soon, yeah?”

“Yep. Bye, Jane.”

“Bye, Y/N.”

You pressed end on the call, then set your phone on the cushion beside you with a deep sigh. Things had to change, that was something impossible to avoid, but did they have to change so abruptly? You’d barely graduated from college before accepting this internship.

Was it the right move for a successful future? Absolutely.

But that didn’t get rid of the tightness in your chest or the tears that appeared in your eyes every time you thought about home. Sometimes it hurt so much, and all you wanted to do was pack up and head back the way you came.

You turned your head and eyed the unopened boxes all around you. Maybe unpacking some more of your things would help.

At the very least, it might provide a temporary distraction.

Saturday brought a new adventure for you: the New York transit system.

Taking the subway made you feel like a real city girl, or maybe an explorer in new territories searching for something yet unknown. More precisely, you were wandering aimlessly, trying to get a feel for the system as you ended up in new corners of the city.

When you accidentally ended up at Coney Island, you decided to stop and start walking for a while. The amusement park looked fun, but you weren’t much for going on the beach in chilly weather, nor did you want to go see all the people having fun with their friends, since you hadn’t acquired any new ones yet.

It’s not that the people at work weren’t nice, they just…didn’t feel familiar like the people back home. You weren’t on their sociability level yet. And yes, you knew it was silly to cling to feelings of home in a new city when you were trying to make a fresh start, but you just couldn’t help it, not yet at least.

Each block in Brooklyn looked the same for a while. There were houses on every street that had big concrete steps out front, blocked in by wrought iron fencing. Trees lined the sidewalks, though they didn’t cast much of a shadow since it was so cloudy out.

Eventually, you reached a new street that was lined with shops and bustling with people. Each place had a different eye-catching storefront, some artsy looking with huge window displays, while others had fairy lights or bright awnings. They were most likely trying to stand out from the Starbucks and other well-known franchises moving in on their territory.

It was just as you were passing a bookshop that the clouds opened up and the rain began to pour.

With no umbrella and no desire to become soaked to the bone, you ducked into the shop as quickly as possible, cringing when the little bell on the door smacked against the wall with more force than you intended.

There was a man behind the register, and even though you came crashing in and disturbed his peace, he still offered you a smile.

“It’s really coming down out there now, isn’t it?” he asked, casually turning to look out the plate glass window. You noticed a small sign hanging next to the counter: new and used book donations accepted.

“Yeah, sorry about barging in,” you apologized, shaking off a little excess rainwater. “It started kind of quickly.”

“Oh, it’s fine. You can duck in here as long as you need to.” The man turned back to you, his brown eyes warm.  

There was something more to him, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. It was almost like he had an old soul, and the weight of the world was making him stay in his cozy little bookshop.

Maybe everything outside the door was too much, but in this shop he could be himself.

You looked away, not wanting to creep him out by staring. “Thanks.”

The shop itself was small and cute, with rows and rows of shelves. Beautiful ivy was hand-painted on the shelves, continuing along parts of the wall and around the front doorway. Fairy lights cast a soft glow around the ivy, giving the room an otherworldly feel, as if there was a bookshop in the middle of an enchanted forest somewhere.

Was it possible to be smitten with a store? Was love at first sight possible given how freaking magical this place seemed?

You moved closer to one of the shelves, gently running your fingers over the spines of each book and glancing at the titles. Some of them looked new, but some were worn, with little tears around the edges of the covers. Some had lines where the spine had been bent back dozens of times. It was easy to see that some of these books had once meant a lot to their former owners.

“Let me know if you need any help,” the shopkeeper called from the counter.

“Thank you!”

You browsed for a bit, grabbing a travel guide on Prague, a book about the women of World War II, and a romance novel just for the sake of mindless entertainment (because who really believes in those scenarios, anyways?), before you came across the modest self-help section.

To your amazement, nearly every book was worn in some way. You carefully set your other books down on the floor before moving closer.

“’Anxiety and You: A Guide to Coping,’” you murmured, pulling the book out a little to examine the cover.

That one would be right up your alley if it offered any insight.

There were some nights, especially since moving to Queens, where you felt like you were about to crawl out of your skin, though you weren’t always sure why. Sunday nights were especially bad. It was like having that feeling of dread that you used to get before a new school year, only it happened weekly.

You shrugged a shoulder and carefully added the book to your pile.

After deciding that four books would suffice for now, you shuffled to the front of the store and set your selections down on the counter.

“Ah, found some things I see,” the owner commented. He rolled up the sleeves of his green button down and set to bagging your books. When he noticed the anxiety book, he picked it up, as if inspecting it. “Tell you what, you can have this one. It’s pretty worn.”

“That’s all right, I’m okay with paying for it,” you countered, shaking your head.  How could he possibly continue to operate a business if he gave all his merchandise away?

“I insist. It’s a recent donation, and I almost didn’t even put it on the shelf.” He nodded at you. “Besides, if it can help you, it’s worth it.”

You couldn’t really argue with that sort of kindness.

“I’m Bruce, by the way.” He offered you his hand, and you shook it gently.

“I’m Y/N.”

Bruce nodded again, giving you a knowing look. “You’re new to the city, aren’t you?”

Was it that obvious? Heat rose in your cheeks as you wondered just how out-of-place you seemed. “I just moved to Queens.”

“I can always tell,” he said, taking the money from your hand to get your change. “Newbies always have that wide-eyed look of wonder.”

Did you? Probably, you decided, especially after finding this shop by accident.

After handing your newly purchased bag of books over, Bruce gave you another smile. “Come back soon.”

“I’m sure I will. I’m a fast reader,” you chuckled, adjusting the bag in your grip as you turned to look outside.

The sun was shining again.

It took you a few days to get through three of the books (though the Prague book was mostly filled with pictures). You saved the anxiety book for Sunday night, figuring that you would need it most then.

It was unseasonably warm in New York for October, so you had a big fan sitting in the window as you sprawled out on your bed, book in hand. Soft light spilled from the lamp on the table beside you, and once you found a comfortable position, you opened up the book.

“Anxiety and me is right,” you muttered, flipping past the dedication page and stopping on chapter one.

There wasn’t much to set this book apart from anything you’d read about anxiety on the internet. It was full of basic knowledge, like counting to ten, taking deep breaths, finding a hobby, talking it out, etcetera…

But somewhere around chapter four, you started noticing that certain phrases or words were underlined. Some of the pages were dog-eared, and some of the margins had sloppy hand-written notes like ‘I remember this’ or ‘picture the ocean.’

You kept reading, because suddenly you felt like someone was in this fight with you, as if they were trying to reassure you through all these scribbles and messages that you were going to be okay.

The sections that were highlighted all seemed to have to do with feeling alone. There was no name listed in the book, so the odds of you ever finding out its previous owner seemed pretty low.

You wished you could tell this person, ‘you aren’t alone…I’m here. We’re in this together.’

“Back for more?” Bruce asked cheerfully, after saying goodbye to another customer whose face was hidden by a Yankees hat. The person brushed passed you and reached for the door, muttering an apology after his elbow bumped you.

You didn’t spare a glance backwards to the man as you walked further into the shop. “I told you I would be back! And I brought three of those books back as a donation, so you can resell them.”

He took the bag from you, offering a nod of thanks. “Three? I thought you had four originally?”

“I kept one,” you confessed, picturing the anxiety book on your nightstand. It had been weeks since you first cracked it open, and it had become a comfort to you every Sunday, so you decided to hang on to it. “You were right, it helped a little.”

Besides, not that you had much hope, but you still kind of wanted to find the former owner.

“There are plenty more where that came from. In fact, there were a couple more self-help books donated today, if that’s your thing,” he informed you, laying his palm flat on a stack of books on the counter. The top book was about stress and anxiety. “I didn’t even have a chance to put them out yet.”

He laughed when you practically dove for them, reaching for the top book and flipping through the pages until you found what you were looking for.

There were more notes, more underlines, and more dog-eared pages. Whoever brought this stack of books was your mystery person, the one with whom you shared this terrible affliction.

Your eyes flickered up to Bruce’s, the book still firm in your grip. “Who dropped these off?”

Bruce shook his head. “I don’t know that it’s particularly illegal to reveal my source, but I don’t want to betray his or her trust.”

You frowned, looking back down at the book. “How many more would you say this person has donated?”

He rubbed a hand down his face, eyes glancing behind you at the shelves. “Oh, gosh…I don’t know…probably at least twenty-five. At least.”

“This poor person,” you murmured, setting the book down and reaching for the next. “Bruce, these books all have writing in them.” You showed him yet another page of underlined sentences with notes in the margin.

“I’m sorry. I can offer a discount for the damage if you want, but-“

“No, no,” you interrupted, gesturing with the open book as if that would help prove your point. “I mean, it’s not that, that’s fine with me, it’s just…don’t you think it’s a cry for help? This person is suffering and trying to sort through things and it seems like they’re doing it alone.”

“That’s their business though, Y/N. There are professionals for that sort of thing. I just sell books.” His tone held an apology, but you weren’t sure if it was toward you or the mystery person.

You felt deflated, all hope of ever finding this person gone in an instant. Without Bruce’s help, and without stooping to stalking (which you were vehemently against), you gave up for the time being.

That evening, you left the store with four more books, each of them from the stack that had been donated earlier that day, and each filled with handwritten notes.

You kept them all.

“Y/N, you’re always hyper focusing on things. I think you should start focusing on yourself instead of trying to help every person with problems that you meet!”

Jane was using her mom voice on you again, this time over your book conundrum. You had been updating her via text about your adventures, including your finds at the bookstore, but now she seemed to be over it.

“Jane, this person might really need help! My big stigma article covered all of this, which you would know if you’d read it.”

“Don’t you have new articles to research and write?”

“I finished my most recent piece,” you informed her hotly, shifting so you were sitting cross-legged on the couch. “All I had to do was point out a few recent play openings for The Village Voice. Easy fluff stuff.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line, as if she was thinking too many thoughts at once and needed to collect them properly.

“Jane? You still there?”

“Why don’t you write back,” she said finally. “Write back to the person, if you insist on meddling as usual.”

You chose to ignore her comment, tapping your chin thoughtfully. “Write back how? I doubt everyone reads The Village Voice, Jane. Unless I write something and it goes viral, but that’s such a fluke, completely unpredictable. I can’t really-“

“Write back in one of those books,” she interrupted. “As in, buy a self-help book, write in it, and donate it to see what happens.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose for a second as you mulled the suggestion over. “Someone else might pick it up and mess up the whole thing.”

“So tell the shop owner to make sure it gets to the mystery person. You said he was a nice guy. He seemed like he’d be willing to do at least that, right?”

“I don’t know,” you mused. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt to ask.”

“Exactly. Do that and let me know how it goes, okay? I have to get going, it’s super late here and I have a big meeting to attend in oh…six hours.”

“Okay. Goodnight, Jane. Thanks for listening.”

“Anytime, Y/N.”

You knew you wouldn’t need to venture far to find a good book to donate; you had plenty of books on your shelf that were used but might be new to the self-help reader at Bruce’s bookshop.

After carefully selecting one about self-love and confidence, you grabbed a pen and started underlining the passages that helped you most, stopping on occasion to write a little note in the margin.

There wasn’t much room for anything mind-blowing. You mostly kept it to little comments like ‘these feelings are temporary’ and ‘you’re worth it!’ Sure, most of the reassurances you wrote were a little cheesy, but you benefited from his comments, so maybe he needed a little cheesy in his life.

Maybe everyone needed cheesy encouragements.

Satisfied with your work, you decided to take the book that Friday, right after work.

“I think you spend more time in Brooklyn than where you live in Queens,” Bruce joked, eyeing the book you just handed him.

“I’d say it’s pretty even actually,” you replied, nodding at the book. “So, can you get that to the mystery customer?”

He eyed the book, then looked back up at you. “I can suggest it, but I’m not going to force it on anyone.”

“Good enough. Thanks, Bruce.” You gave him a firm nod. “I think it could help the person out a little.”

His eyes softened. “That’s nice of you though, Y/N, to want to help. Most people would just be angry about the writing in their book.”

The truth was, there was a little bit of selfishness in your actions.

You loved helping others, sure, but by doing so it made you feel like you were making a difference, like your anxiety wasn’t holding you back as much as you previously thought. You felt like you were taking a step toward owning your issues by trying to help others through theirs.

Whether this person had anxiety or PTSD or depression or anything of the sort, all you wanted was to make sure that they got some kind of help…that they felt like someone was listening.

Doesn’t everyone want to feel like they are being heard?

You took a deep breath, averting your eyes, as if he could read your expression and know what you were thinking.

Bruce had added some fall décor around the shop, including little smiling pumpkins. They were pretty cute. Maybe you should decorate your apartment. Maybe-

“Anyways,” Bruce continued, tapping the cover of the book. “I’ll give it a try.”

You turned your attention back to him. “Thank you. That’s all I can ask for.”

“Sure, Y/N.”

You skipped your weekly bookshop visit that next weekend.

You wanted to go, really. It wasn’t like you weren’t dying to know what happened. Had the mystery customer shown up? Had Bruce offered the book as promised? Did the person accept it?

Did it help them?

There was no way for you to find out without returning to the cute little bookshop with the fairy lights and ivy paintings. The shop was probably being prepped for Brooklyn’s trick-or-treat night in a week. Bruce mentioned that he was going to offer candy and one free book for every kid that stopped. It was the decent thing to do, he said, because not every kid gets books. Not every kid’s family can afford them.

You loved the idea. You wanted to go back, ask how Bruce was, and especially to ask about the book…but you couldn’t muster up the courage.

What if the person rejected it? You’d feel totally stupid, like you’d overstepped a line where you weren’t welcome or wanted.

What if the person loved the book and it really helped them? What if that led to them wanting more help? Were you really capable and prepared to give that kind of attention on an as-needed basis without formal training, and with your own issues?

God, anxiety sucked so much. Nothing was ever simple, nothing ever happened without a million strings of ‘what-ifs’ attached.

You remembered then what the mystery person had written on the last page of your most recent purchase:

Why can’t I be normal?

It had been underlined twice, and your heart had physically hurt to read it.

Whatever normal was, that person was probably closer to it than they thought.

Loads of people hurt these days. Anxiety was just the tip of the iceberg, unfortunately. Life was full of ups and downs and you knew that how you dealt with everything, how you trained your brain to think, well, that was the key, wasn’t it?

You had to retrain your brain before moving to New York, after all. You told yourself you were capable of being on your own (and it turned out, you were), and that you were strong (which was true, even though sometimes the fears appear when you least expect it).

Ridding yourself of anxiety might be a lost cause, but not managing it…you still had hope for that.

Someday soon, you knew that you would be able to manage it. You’d finally go to bed at night without having your mind race about everything that had ever and would ever and could ever happen to you. You’d close your eyes and not relive the day’s events (especially negative ones).

Someday soon was different than today, though.

As you slid back under the covers and closed your eyes to attempt to sleep your anxiety away, the last thing you felt was guilt for not checking in.

It took another week, but you managed to find the courage to return to Bruce’s bookshop. This time, you didn’t have any books to take back. You were out of the donation business for now, until you heard back from Bruce about the success or failure of your last venture.

Maybe it was an unconscious decision, or maybe not, but somehow you ended up going back on trick-or-treat night. Halloween was on a Tuesday, so all the events were happening the Saturday before.

Bruce greeted you with another one of his warm smiles, and thankfully didn’t ask about your absence. Instead, he put you to work handing out candy to little kids.

“I wish I would have worn a costume,” you lamented, eyeing his green Hulk outfit. He really got into character with it, too, and most of the little kids you’d seen so far loved him. There was one kid who got scared, but as his mother explained, he was a DC fan.

Whatever that meant.

Anyways, you were spending your Saturday sat on the counter handing Milky Ways and Reese’s Cups out to the kids, while Bruce…sorry, Hulk…helped them pick out a free book.

“If I had known you were going to show, I would have gotten you something,” he said, his voice muffled from his mask. “A funny hat or whatever.”

“It’s all right.“

The two of you turned as the bell rang and a figure moved into the doorway of the shop. This time, the person didn’t have a little kid with them.

“Bucky,” Bruce greeted, lifting his mask to the top of his head. “Hey, how are ya?”

“Fine,” the man answered, clearly a little bit uncomfortable. He started backing out when he realized you were sitting on the counter. “I didn’t mean to interrupt something, I can come back tomorrow, I’ll-“

“No way, man,” Bruce laughed, motioning for Bucky to come in. “We’re handing candy out to little kids, but it’s been slowing down.”

Bucky frowned for a second, seeming to consider this. “I don’t want to get in the way.”

A million alarm bells started going off in your head. You’d read that phrase at least twice in the books you’d purchased, written by none other than the mystery customer.

Could it be?

This guy had to be that mystery customer.

“Come on in,” you added softly, offering a small smile while willing yourself to remain calm. “I could use the company while Bruce entertains the kids.”

Bucky turned to you fully then, and you got a great view of his piercing blue-grey eyes. He still looked unsure of himself, so you held up the candy bag.

“Come to the checkout desk, I have candy,” you joked, feeling your face heat up again. Shit, why were you so awkward?

Deep breaths.

To your surprise, he actually cracked a smile. “That’s a little creepy, but…I guess I can stay for a little bit.”

Your whole body stiffened as he moved behind the counter. You knew the strategy well. It was far enough from you to not make things even more awkward, but close enough to not cause uncomfortable feelings of rejection or distance.

Or maybe that was just you overthinking again, as usual.

Bucky accepted the bag of Reese’s cups from you and turned toward the door expectantly.

You couldn’t help but stare at him a little. He had a handsome profile, with a strong jawline. You were always a sucker for those types.

Bruce ducked toward the back to pull more kids books out, leaving you alone in the front of the store with Bucky. If Jane had been in the room, she would have pulled you aside to tell you to start your investigation. Questions bring answers, she always said.

Social interactions were freaking exhausting.

“So Bucky, do you come here a lot?” You cringed almost immediately; that sounded like a bad bar pickup line. “As in, do you like to read?”

Nope, that somehow made it worse.

Bucky thankfully didn’t seem to be put off by your oddball phrasing. “Yes, I visit this shop a lot. I read all the time.”

“Me too.” Time to go for the kill. “I actually ended up here by accident one day. I ducked in here because it started pouring down rain, but I keep coming back.”

“Oh?”

You could tell by the way he was averting his gaze that you were talking too much, or maybe too fast, or maybe just generally annoying him, but you couldn’t stop now. Maybe you should just be honest?

“Yeah. So anyway, I have really bad anxiety, and when I get anxious I keep talking and talking until I get a satisfactory response, so I’m sorry.” You bit your lip and looked down at the Milky Way bag, silently praying that a black hole would form in the floor so that you could jump into it.

Who does that? Who confesses all that at once? Maybe you had no clue what normal was, after all.

You heard Bucky clear his throat. “I, uh…I get anxious sometimes, too.”

Your head whipped up at the quiet confession. There was no laughter in his eyes. He wasn’t mocking you at all. He seemed to be offering some common ground.

He was trying to set you at ease!

Was this the mystery customer or not?

You felt your mouth open and close a few times. “I…”

Words were failing you, a writer…a freaking writer who was paid to use the right words.

“I have some PTSD, too, since we’re being so honest.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I was in the military, and…” Bucky shook his head in disbelief. “I can’t believe I’m telling this to a stranger.”

You were just about to reassure him that it was okay when a fairy princess and a kid dressed as a hot dog came into the shop. You and Bucky both gave them candy, then sent them and their guardians over to Bruce for a book.

It was time to broach the topic.

“I, uh…I don’t really get to talk about it – my anxiety, I mean. I stopped going to therapy because I was nervous to find someone new in New York. I just moved here,” you told him, glancing his direction.

He nodded thoughtfully. “I stopped going recently, too. I just…I don’t know. I found other ways to cope, I guess.”

“Oh? Like what?” You shook your head, feeling like you were prying again. “If you don’t mind telling me, that is. If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s okay too.”

Bucky shifted to lean against the wall, his fingers messing with the plastic of the candy bag. “Well actually, I started reading. There’s a section in the corner back there with all kinds of…well I guess you’d call them self-help books, but really, they’re more like how-to guides to me.”

You watched as the little princess and hot dog shuffled out the front door, each clutching a new (at least to them) book.

“How so?”

“I write in them. I, you know, put my thoughts down. Try to reason things out.”

You nodded, but stayed silent, hoping he would continue.

Bruce chose that moment to come back to the front instead. “According to my watch, trick-or-treat time is up, guys. I think we’re done here. Thanks for your help.”

You slid off the counter dejectedly as Bucky set the candy bag down and said goodnight, slipping out the door faster than you could react.

He didn’t even bother to accomplish whatever brought him to the shop that night.

You went back the next day, unable to stop yourself after sleeping a mere three hours the night before. All you could think about was this man, Bucky, and how the light in his eyes faded the second he brought up his issues.

After he left the shop, you stayed a little bit longer to help Bruce clean up (and to swipe some of the leftover candy, let’s be real). You flat-out asked Bruce if your hunch was right, if Bucky was the mystery customer, but he refused to cave and tell you one way or the other.

That was before you noticed the book on the counter behind where you had been sitting. You knew for a fact that it hadn’t been there before.

That confirmed it. Apparently Bucky had accomplished what he’d set out to do that evening after all.

He wanted to return the book!

Even better, he wrote notes in it!

You grabbed it, took it back to your apartment, and poured over each and every new notation in Bucky’s handwriting. There were points and counterpoints, and in some places he’d merely written ‘thank you.’

Did he know it was you who had offered the book? Probably not, you decided. You hadn’t written your name anywhere inside, and you highly doubted that Bruce would say anything, given his current stance on privacy.

This was enough for you. At this point, even if Bucky wasn’t the mystery customer, you still wanted to see him again.

You were sure it was him, though.

You felt a connection to this man, one you had never felt with anyone else before, not even your family or friends, and while you couldn’t explain it, you had to pursue it.

So yeah, you went back the next day hoping to see Bucky.

You weren’t disappointed.

The bell on the door announced his arrival, and you quickly ducked to the corner self-help section.

Your heartbeat picked up a little as you heard Bucky’s warm voice greeting Bruce.

They chatted for a few minutes about the weather, about baseball, about whatever…you stopped listening when the ringing in your ears from your high blood pressure grew too loud.

Basically, you were just hanging out, palms sweaty, heart racing in anticipation for the second you laid eyes on Bucky again.

There was no game plan involved. You had no practiced speech, no preparedness at all.

Your anxiety was taunting you, telling you that this wouldn’t work, that he would think you were a creepy, over-bearing, nosy weirdo or something…

Meanwhile, your heart was telling your brain to shut the hell up.

When the chatter stopped, you heard light footsteps getting closer and closer. You stood rooted in place, staring at the shelf in front of you as you tried to think of something to say.

A light tap on your shoulder made you whirl around, nearly falling into Bucky as he stood beside you.

“I’m sorry,” he said sheepishly, hands in the air. He quickly shoved them into his jacket pockets. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I just wanted to make sure…well, you said you had anxiety, so I wanted to make sure you were okay?”

What? Was this guy even real?

You could absolutely relate to putting your own issues aside to try to make someone else feel better, but you’d never encountered someone else like that before. Not Bruce, not your family members, not even Jane put your needs first.

At least you didn’t have to break the ice. “I’m fine. Thanks for asking, though.”

Bucky nodded, eyeing you carefully. “So I take it you got my responses, then?”

Wait…

Had you heard him right?

“Your responses?” You were pretty sure you knew what he meant but you wanted to make sure, just in case.

The corner of his mouth lifted a little. “Yeah, I managed to con Bruce into giving up your identity when he gave me the book.”

That little shit!

“He wouldn’t tell me who wrote the notes in the first place.” You frowned in Bruce’s direction, but he didn’t seem to notice.

“To be honest, I never thought anyone would care about the notes. Or if they did, maybe the notes would help them.”

Your gaze flickered back to his. “They helped me. And yes, I’m the one who left the book for you.”

Bucky nodded, fidgeting a little. “I haven’t seen you around. I’ve been sort of, uh…checking back each day to see if you were back yet before I returned the book. That’s why you saw it yesterday.”

“You’re so sneaky,” you exclaimed. “I didn’t even see you put it on the counter!”

“I know. You looked like you were having fun handing out the candy and I didn’t want to bring you down, so I sort of crept behind you and set it down.”

“And so you let me sit there and act like I had no idea while you explained your self-help book collection to me?” You could really use that black hole in the floor again right about now.

“I didn’t- what I mean to say is-” Bucky ran a hand over the stubble on his cheek for a second. “I just wasn’t sure if I was ready to talk about it directly. It sounds stupid when I say it out loud now, but it’s how I felt. I’m sorry.”

Well, you knew all about avoiding things. That’s like rule number one of how to cope with anxiety: just avoid things.

"Bucky, stop apologizing. I get it.” You couldn’t look away from him. “So now what?”

You realized as he smoothed his hair back from his face that he wasn’t wearing the Yankees cap. Without it, his brown hair seemed even longer. Really, was there anything that wasn’t attractive about this man?

“I was thinking, if you were up for it, maybe we could go get some coffee?” His lips lifted into a genuine smile. “Maybe we could discuss books, or, you know…anything…”

Your instincts had been right, which meant that your heart was smarter than your brain sometimes.

“Do you want to go now?” you blurted out.

Okay, so maybe your brain would have kept that under control, but it was too late now.

His smile wavered a little as a look of uncertainty flashed across his features.

You instantly felt stupid and clingy, and all the things your anxiety makes you feel. How would this even work when you both were so damn awkward? You instantly wished you would have suggested a more reasonable time and date, one that wouldn’t make him feel so-

“I’d love to go now,” he replied confidently, interrupting your self-deprecating thoughts. “There’s a place just around the corner that I go to almost daily, if you didn’t have anywhere in mind.”

Your heart was racing. This could work. You could do this.

“Great. I’m glad. I think- I mean…” You cringed as you awkwardly stumbled over your words.

Was there any easy, non-weird way to tell someone you barely knew that you couldn’t stop thinking about them? That you wanted to make sure they knew they were loved and worth it and that all you wanted was...

Might as well say it.

“I like you very much, Bucky.” You stared at him, awaiting his reaction.

It didn’t take him long.

Bucky gave you a blinding smile, his eyes bright. It was the happiest you’d ever seen him in all the weeks you’d known him.

“I like you too, Y/N. And not just for the book, or for your kindness. You’ve been on my mind a lot, and...well, I want to get to know you better.”

Wow. Just…wow.

“Shall we?” You motioned toward the door, and as your hand was falling back down to your side, Bucky grasped it in his gently.

“You know, I wasn’t sure how to ask,” he said quietly, as the two of you made your way past Bruce (who pretended not to notice). “I’m really awkward when it comes to this stuff.”

“Me too,” you admitted. “But I think that’s pretty normal.”

And that pesky little voice in the back of your brain that always said you weren’t good enough, that he’d never like you, that you weren’t doing this right, well…

It finally shut the hell up.

[supersoldierslover]

Possible Future

Summary: In the middle of the night, Bucky shows up in your house with his son in his arms looking for someone to talk to.

This is my submission for @whotheeffisbucky AU Writing Challenge! . My choice was single parent au

Paring: Bucky x Reader

Words:1775

Warnings: Fluffy, so much fluff.

Thank you @drinkfantasy for beta this for me you are amazing. 

credits to the gif owners

It is a beautiful Saturday night, the weather is warm, the stars are shining and your apartment smells like fresh baked cookies. What else could a girl want? You are almost falling asleep on your couch when you hear your doorbell ring. Who would visit you at 8 p.m on a Saturday night without previous notice?

When you open the door, you are not surprised to see Bucky with his son, Grant, in his arms on the other side. If someone was going to show up at your house without being invited this someone would be Bucky Barnes. Not that you mind, you loved to spend time with him and his little boy.

The toddler is almost sleeping with his head on Bucky’s shoulder “Hmm, cookies, I want cookies.” Grant says without lifting his head from Bucky’s shoulder “He really is your son.” You say coltish, letting them get inside.

It was impressive how much they looked alike, they share the same deep blue eyes and brown hair, you don’t doubt that when Grant grows up he will look exactly like his dad.  You notice the backpack that Bucky has with him “You usually call when you need a babysitter.”

“You hurt me, can’t I just visit my favorite girl? And by the way I don’t need a babysitter per say, I just want to spend the night in the company of an adult. You know drink wine or beer, eat some pizza while the kid is asleep… You know basic stuff.” You feel the butterflies in your stomach when he calls you his favorite girl, but all you can do is laugh and kiss the toddler’s forehead.

You are only friends and this is all you two will ever be, your life is complicated and Bucky’s you can’t even start on how complicated his is.

 “Are you sure that you come to the right place? I am always down for pizza and wine but the adult part I'm not so sure.” You pick Grant from his father's arms; you can’t believe that in a few months he is going to be 3 years old. It seems like it was yesterday that he was just a baby.

You and Bucky knew each other for almost 3 years now, you two met in a supermarket and it was a mess.

Bucky was busy trying to figure out what was the best baby formula for his baby boy, while his phone was ringing and Grant was crying. You offered help, feeling sorry for the baby and the father. He was so grateful for your help that he invited you for a coffee as a thank you and you two have been being friends ever since.

“I missed you, it feels like centuries since the last time we talked." You nod agreeing, it's been 6 weeks since you both sat down and had a conversation. He was busy with work and raising Grant while you were dealing with the problems of your daily life.

There was no denying that you missed him a lot, as much as you texted during these six weeks it was not the same. Before you can answer him, Grant starts to be restless in your arms and rub his eyes. “I think this little guy wants to sleep.” 

You take him to your bedroom, with Bucky following you around. “You are so good with him, he adores you.” Bucky says as you lay the toddler in your bed making sure he was not going to fall. “Stay, mommy, please… please, daddy.” You freeze when he calls your mommy, but you don’t let them see your reaction, you just start to play with Grant’s hair while Bucky tells him a story.

 Neither of you had the heart to say no to Grant and his baby voice. How could you? He was adorable and such a great kid. You are never going to understand how anyone could abandon him, especially his mother.

It doesn’t take long for Grant to fall asleep, in less than 10 minutes you two are leaving the bedroom being careful to not wake up the toddler.

“I'm sorry, darling.  I don’t know where Grant took this idea of you being his mom. Sure, you babysit him a lot and he always asks about you…” You watch as he runs his fingers through his hair, trying to calm himself down “… sorry I'm rumbling… Just… I'm going to have a talk with him when he wakes up.”

You nod, starting to feel bad about how nervous he is “Bucky, it's ok, like you said I spent a lot of time with him. Just talk to him and explains that I'm the cool aunt but don’t worry about it, ok?” He nods, you smile before continuing “So, Grant is officially asleep, what do you want to do? The sky is the limit.”

“You are going to laugh at me.” He says fetching the wine he brought and opening it. “Bucky, you know me, I only laugh about videos of goats on YouTube especially if they are falling and stupid jokes.”  He laughs, you are glad that the tension disappeared “Ok, I just want to sit with you and talk. Maybe watch some movie that is not Moana or Wreck it Ralph or anything that comes from Disney.”

You want to be playful and sarcastic with your answer but when you look at his face you can’t. He looks exhausted, you wonder what was the last time he had a full night of sleep and the answer was obviously not since Grant was born.

Bucky was lucky, he had a lot of help with Grant.  You often babysit for him, he had his best friend's help and his parents were absolutely the best, but being a single parent wasn’t easy. “Sure thing, Bucky. The TV is yours for the night.”

In the leaving room, he puts a movie while you order the pizza “Do you want to know a secret?” He asks as you sit by his side, he lays his head on your lap and you start playing with his hair. You look at your TV screen, you hate horror movies. “Of course, I love secrets.”

“Steve and Sam invited me to go out with them tonight.” You stare at him for a few seconds, why he is here then? And why he is telling you this? You feel yourself getting hotter. Of course you would be blushing, especially for the way he is staring at you. 

“Why didn’t you go with them?” You ask putting a string of hair behind your ear, hoping he doesn’t notice your flushed cheeks. “I was going to, I was ready and just waiting for my mom to watch over Grant for me. When I told him that he was going to spend the night out, he started asking for you… He missed you and so did I.”

He gets up from your lap, sitting next to you. He runs his fingers through his hair before continuing. “I didn’t want to spend the night with the guys, I love them but I didn’t want to go to a loud bar, spent the whole night worrying about Grant and wishing I was somewhere else. I wanted to spend the night with you, it doesn’t matter what we were going to do… I just wanted to see you.”

He holds your hand playing with your fingers, you don’t know what to say to him. "They are just trying to help, and I bet you would have a lot of fun drinking beer, talking to them and maybe find someone to go home with you.” You wink at him, you didn’t want him to go home with anybody else but you wanted him to happy.

Still playing with your hand he closes the distance between you two with his look focus down. “I don’t want anybody else.” There is a moment of silence before your eyes meet his and then he kisses you. The kiss is slow and soft. Bucky tastes like wine, sweet and soft. He deepens on the kiss making you lay on the couch, his hands are on your hips while you hug him by his neck.

His hand goes under your shirt, caressing the soft skin of your hips “Wow.” You say breaking the kiss and catching your breath. He smiles at you kissing your forehead “You don’t have any idea how long I have been waiting to do this.”

“Really, how long?”  You ask playful, giving him a peck on the lips “Since that day on the beach.” You arch your eyebrows, giving him a playful glare. “Because you saw me in a bathing suit? “

“That too, you looked amazing in that swimsuit. But wasn’t only that, you were so amazing with Grant that day.  He wouldn’t stop crying, nothing was calming him down but then you held him and started to make silly faces and he stopped . Of course he was clinging on you for the rest of the day, but you didn’t care you just started playing with him and building sand castles.”

You smile but you can’t help but feeling a little insecure, does he like you or the way you fill up a place his son's life? The wife and the mother, you love both of them but you are not ready to step up in this roll. 

You two are friends for so long, you lost count on how many afternoons you two have spent watching movies on your couch and eating popcorn. Or how many nights you two spent on the phone talking. He was there when your boyfriend broke up with you, he was there when your grandmother passed away and every time you were sick.

You are so confused right now.

He must have sensed your confusion state because he holds your hand. “Sweetheart, I can hear your thoughts. Talk to me, please.” You take a deep breath “What do you want from me? I like you, Bucky a lot, but I don’t think I can be what you want.” Your voice is so small and fragile you hate how you sound right now “I want you to be you, the only thing you need to be is you.”

You nod, kissing him .You have your doubts about how the relationship can work, you know that Bucky has a lot more of responsibilities and that Grant is always going to be his priority. But in the end, you are in love with Bucky and this is enough to make you try “This I can do.” 

Please leave feedback, it makes me happy and i am dying to know what you guys think of this fic.

[sebbies]

brewing attraction

Prompt: Coffee Shop AU for @whotheeffisbucky‘s writing challenge Note: it’s short and huge thanks to @rotisserierogers for correcting it thanks boo

“Iced Latte Macchiato for Y/N!” the barista, named Bucky, shouted as he placed the cup on the counter. Your head snapped up and a confused expression overtook your face. What the fuck? That was definitely not what you had ordered.

“Excuse me, but I ordered an Iced Caramel Macchiato,” you said when you stepped forwards to the counter, the barista still focused on brewing the next order.

“Oh, you did? I’m sorry, let me fix that for you right away.”

You can’t help but snort in response. Fucking asshole always knew your order, you come in everyday and ordered the same thing and yet everyday you got the complete opposite of what you ordered or your name was spelled wrong and sometimes he didn’t even put a name on the cup. How Bucky hadn’t been fired yet for wasting inventory and messing with you was beyond you.

If this coffee shop wasn’t so close to your work, you would definitely gone to another one a while ago. What also made you stay was the fact that the barista was cute.

You spent your entire lunch break googling the Starbucks menu in search for a new drink that you could possibly be in to. You smirked as you took a screenshot of the drink that you would order tomorrow.

You had an extra hop in your step as you walked into Starbucks and having done your research beforehand, you ignored the menu boards above the baristas as you inched closer to the front. As silly as it was your heart started to speed up and your hands began to get clammy.

“Hi, what can I get for you?” Bucky asked behind the cashier.

“Grande White Chocolate Mocha for Y/N please,” you smoothly replied the words you memorised.

“Oh,” Bucky looks up in confusion and you just give him the sweetest smile, “kay.” You skipped over to the pick up counter and watched as the barista busied himself with mixing different ingredients together.

“One Iced Caramel Macchiato,” Bucky says as he carefully places the cup on the counter, keep eye contact with you. He looked away as you came closer and began making another drink.

“Thank you, but this isn’t what I ordered.”

“I know,” Bucky replied with a smirk, looking up from his task, his clear blue eyes twinkling in the lights.

“Of course you did,” you said and gave him a quick wink before grabbing the drink and exiting the shop, fully aware of the barista staring at your back.

tags? idk? : @soldatbarnes @captainpunk @capbuckybuchanan @aubzylynn @sebashtiansatan @4theluvofall

[salimahbicharara-comun]

Glitter & Gold

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Ancient Mythology AU. There is a limited number of encounters between gods and mortals.

Word Account: 5.424 (holy shit)

Warnings: mild mention of non-con, blink and you missed it. That’s all, I think.

A/N: This is my contribution to @whotheeffisbucky‘s challenge, because apparently I only write for writing challenges. And yeah, I created my own mythology, sue me. Ao3 link here.

I give my eternal thanks to @brightlycoloredteacups who was my beta with this one, and who also is a sweetness and an actual angel.

I think is painfully obvious that english isn’t my first language, so if you see any mistakes in the narration is because of that. Please let me know what do you think! The credit of the gif goes for it’s respective owner.

Part Two here.

The days like these were the longest, when the sun shone high in the sky of Ballynoe and the breeze had gone far to relieve the suffering of someone else. Those who could stay at home on a day like this were lucky, protected from the heat and the hard work. But you weren’t one of those people, so you sighed, rolled up the sleeves of your dirty dress, and got to work.

Your knees sank into the ground as your hands did the same among the green leaves of the lush bush, ripping the weeds and putting them to the side. The task of collecting food in the field was not exactly the most desired job among the young people in your village, but it provides you with enough money to support you and live comfortably with your brother in the small cottage just outside the village, in the edge of the forest and near the river.

Even so, spending days in the hot sun of summer, getting dirty, was not exactly your idea of ​​pleasure. It was dirty, messy and on more occasions than you would like, wet. Your favorite days were Thursdays, when you went to the orchard to take care of the orange trees, peaches and apples, looking for signs of a plague and counting the days until the fruits were ready to be harvested. Your least favorite days, however, were the mornings after rain, when every step felt like quicksand, and you tried to keep your beloved plants from drowning.

However, you didn’t complain. Your work could be a little messy at times, but it paid for your food and kept a roof over your head. Your brother came out every day from your home with his bow and arrows, ready to hide among the forest plants to wait for your dinner, or that of some villager with enough silver coins.

Even so, not even the profits from both jobs together was enough to cover a whole month of food. You weren’t in crisis, but you couldn’t relax and afford a luxury either. Once or twice, perhaps in the hunting season or when the fresh grapes were swollen and juicy, you would bring home a new dress that wasn’t discolored and torn, or your brother would buy new arrowheads and shiny leather boots that didn’t have the cords hardened by mud.

Sighing in defeat, you removed a lock of hair from your face and left a stain of dirt behind, but you didn’t move to clean it. You took another carrot from the ground and threw it carelessly in the basket next to the other ones that you had already taken before; you'll clean them later. For now, you just wanted to finish the carrots and move to the potatoes.

You took vegetable after vegetable from the earth for another hour, stopping every now and then to dry the sweat of your forehead or to sit on your heels and look around. A couple of people were with you in the orchard, cultivating, watering or harvesting, but all are a good distance from you. That way you could cover more ground, although the task of taking care of the food made you want to bury yourself in the maize plants.

You stood up and walked slowly all the way to the stream not far from your work zone. You dragged your feet wearily on the dirt ground and lazily held the basket full of vegetables against you. Today had not been a particularly productive day; There have been times when you have harvested up to four entire baskets. Today, however, you had hardly filled more than half of one. Old Coulson was not going to be very happy about it, but what could you have done? Not all the plants had finished growing, and you couldn’t do anything to speed up the process.

After what seemed hours in the sun, you finally reached the edge of the stream. The sound of the water running down the rocks helped to soothe your grumpy mood a little. The stream was one of your favorite places in Ballynoe, and you are grateful to have it so close to your home and your work.

Putting the basket at your feet and sitting on your heels, you began to wash vegetable behind vegetable and when they were all clean and kept in the basket again, you allowed yourself to lie back for a moment and rest. In this part of the stream the trees were tall and their leaves were thick, leaving you in the shadows of the hot day, lying on the fresh grass. You let out a sigh of relief and let a small smile curl your lips. Gods, you were tired.

You could feel the intensity of the sun diminish, and you frowned slightly. Of course It wouldn't be so hot just when it didn't bother you anymore. The gods were conspiring against you today, surely. Twisting in a more comfortable position, you let your eyes close. You were going to take advantage of this rest as much as you could. Nobody would look for you for a while.

The sound of the birds singing and the wind stirring the leaves of the trees soon made your will to rise disappear more and more. You had always been a heavy dreamer, and with how tired you were, you knew it was only a matter of time before you fell asleep right there, your feet buried in the water and your hair tangled in the grass.

Just as you were on the verge of falling into the land of dreams, a loud crunch disturbed the tranquility of the stream. You jumped at the sound and your eyes flew open. The sun had diminished to a bluish glow. How long had you been asleep? It must be past four o'clock. Oh, Amer, you were in trouble. Your brother must be furious.

A second creak made you sit up and slap your gaze at the source of the noise. A man was sitting on the ground a few feet away from you, leaning against the tree that had given you your long-awaited shadow just a couple of hours ago. A black horse was drinking from the stream behind him, his dark fur gleaming with the last rays of the sun.

You backed away from the stranger. The man looked like no one you had ever seen before. He was tall, you could tell by the length of his legs and arms. Extremities that looked so muscular under the clothes and skins that covered them, shoulders as wide and firm as the tree on which he was leaning.

His blue eyes watched you analyze him slowly. He didn’t seem to have a problem with you looking at him so closely, there was even a slight flash of amusement hiding behind the piercing blue of his eyes, as if he didn’t wanted anyone to know what he feels or thinks. You felt like seeing that little emotion dancing in his expression was an honor for you, something that with another person or in another situation would not have been allowed.

Your head felt blurry and your train of thought was drifting away, and you could no longer hear the birds sing or the river run, although you were still very aware of the cold water on your feet dipped in the edge and the fresh grass against your hands, moistening your palms.

His appearance wouldn’t have jolted you so much if it had not been for the aura emanating from him. Never in your life you had been around anyone who made you feel this way. Your head was spinning and you felt like your mind was moving further away from you, like in those dreams that you only have when you fall asleep feeling safe and sound. The man's eyes stared at you without embarrassment, following every movement you made meticulously.

The black horse behind him had stopped drinking and had moved until he was a few feet away, his nose buried in the grass and eating without paying attention to the exchange his master was having with a confused peasant.

The man followed your gaze and looked behind him at his horse, letting the corner of his lips rise in the slightest of smiles as he looked with unmistakable fondness to the animal. You felt like an intruder watching this stranger undress his emotions so naturally before you. He was undoubtedly the most handsome man you'd ever seen, with those sky-blue eyes and dark hair framing his face like a portrait, tucked into the back of his head with a strip of leather. You couldn’t help feeling like you didn’t belong there, a mortal among the most divine beings you can imagine.

That had to be, you thought. There is no person on earth with an appearance like that, there are no mortals with such divine essences that make your knees feel weak and make you forget everything else. Like he was inside your mind, the man turned his head in your direction again and looked straight into your eyes, and smirked.

It has to be, you can not be wrong. No mortal could look into your eyes like that and make your stomach jump back. You resisted the urgency of run away and squeezed your hands in your lap, dragging a little further away from the man.

Encounters between mortals and gods didn’t end well in most cases. The most divine beings that exist wouldn’t descend to the world of evil for anything. There is only a limited number of reasons for a deity to appear before a mortal, and almost all were a bad omen.

An avalanche of memories hit you from nowhere. You remembered the stories that your mother had told you about the gods when she was still alive, those days at the entrance of your home on the grass, when she stroked your hair and told you legends of the most powerful beings in this land and another far away.

She told you about Amer, the great god of justice and truth, king of heaven and of the honests. He was a good deity, the god that true believers deserve and worship.

Amer was the one you prayed to when you were desperate, when you could not bear the thought of continuing to live one more day in misery, that time your mother finally let out her last breath, and for the first time your brother and you faced the world alone, without money and without jobs. Amer had answered you.

You let out a gasp when your sight cleared. For a second, you had been there again, lying on the grass with your head in your mother's lap, listening to her tell you about the power and generosity of the gods, hearing as your brother threw wooden arrows at the targets carefully scattered by the trees that surrounded your house and laughing when he cried out with pure joy whenever he hit one.

You took a deep breath and threw yourself back, watching as the man dropped his head to the side, looking at you with a small smile on the curve of his lips. He had done it, he had submerged you in a trance, in a spell, in a memory. You stared at him with your mouth hanging open, trying to catch your breath even though you had not moved since you woke up.

You were trying to find the strength to talk, to move, to scream, but you couldn’t. You are petrified by the presence of this deity, by the evident power he has over you.

It was then that you heard the creak that awoke you again.

The man–no, god, had one of your carrots in his fingers, playing with it while chewing on the bite he had taken. He smiled with obvious mischief when he realized that your gaze was leaping between his mouth, the carrot in his hand and the basket that still was at your feet.

Your voice was hoarse when you spoke for the first time in hours, "That's not yours"

The man stopped chewing and looked at you, raising an eyebrow with curiosity, and you couldn’t help the mortification that you felt. His hand slowly lowered to rest in his lap, the half-eaten carrot still tangled between his fingers. The deity leaned back, leaning against the trunk of the thick tree and allowing himself to relax. There was no way in this world that you were a threat to him. The only weapon you had was your tongue and your recklessness.

"You cannot blame me," he said, his deep voice sending shivers down your entire body. The way he spoke, as the words slipped from his tongue into the void of air, made your head feel blurry. He was smirking again, that little curve of his lips that made you feel like he was making fun of you. "You left them there like nothing. They looked so tempting "

You opened and closed your mouth like a fish out of the water. What were you supposed to answer to that? You couldn’t find anything to say or do. This man, this god, was talking to you for no apparent reason, making fun of you. This is not how you imagined yourself spending your afternoon when you woke up that morning.

You didn’t know which answer was correct, so you went with what you tell your brother every time you find him stealing something from the collected.

"My employer does not like it when the rations are incomplete," you murmured, refusing to take your eyes away from his, even though his eyes on you made you tremble. The stranger chuckled, shaking his head as if he couldn’t believe what you were saying.

You forced yourself not to look away when he stopped laughing, attaching his incredible eyes to yours, the same glow of pleasure that you had seen before was still there. Then, without taking his eyes from you, he took another bite of the carrot in his hand.

You didn’t know what possessed you to act like that, but you couldn’t help but speak the way you did, "I'm serious!" You raised your voice. The man just laughed at you and crossed his arms over his chest, giving you a clear expression of 'And what will you do about it?' "Old Coulson has an inventory meticulously–"

"Old Coulson will forgive you for this time," said the god, swallowing the piece of carrot before throwing it aside. Both watched as the vegetable fell in the water with a wet noise, quickly disappearing with the flow of the river. The man returned his gaze to you when he could no longer see the vegetable again. "I'll make sure of it"

You were sure he would, there was no doubt about it. But that didn’t make your mistrust fade. He was playing with you, mocking you like a hungry beast hunting his prey. With each passing second you felt more and more suspicious. You could no longer hear the birds sing, or the leaves fly in the wind. Only the slightest whisper of the wind in your ears and the water of the river becoming colder and colder.

The god could sense your suspicion, you could tell. The gleam of mockery in his eyes was still there, but now it was mixed with something else, something you couldn’t decipher, not being so submerged in the divine influence of this deity. His smile wavered, but he held it as he stretched out towards you. You stepped away from him instinctively, away from the water and into the bushes that surrounded the stream.

You seemed to see a flash of pain in his eyes, but it disappeared as fast as it came. Who was this deity? At times he undressed his feelings before you and then closed them abruptly. The gods were usually jealous and arrogant beings, most wouldn’t let a mortal like you see their souls exposed.

But then most gods wouldn’t even be here with you, playing like their new toy.

The god didn’t let your mistrust discourage him and he advanced towards you again, stopping so close that you could feel his breath. The nearness sent shivers down your spine, but you refused to keep moving away.

The man felt your submission, and with a soft smile he bent over you. "I've been watching you"

Your heart skipped a beat at the confession. Your breath caught in your throat at the thought that came into your head. Memories of the stories of gods captivated by mortals, too submerged in the spell of lust to think of the consequences of their actions.

Was that what this deity was here for? You didn’t know what to feel at such idea. Not in all these stories the mortal was willing to fulfill the whim that had so consumed the god, but that never stopped them. The bitter feeling of fear was slowly taking hold of you, flooding your stomach and climbing up your back.

The god felt your change of emotion and frowned, all trace of fun fading. He raised a hand and cupped your cheek, and he didn’t move it away when you trembled and closed your eyes.

"I'm not going to hurt you, Y/N" he whispered, so close to your face that you could feel his breath against your nose. You opened your eyes to see him in front of you, his face still wrinkled in a grimace of concern, but his eyes send you security. He knows your name.

You don’t even know what to think; there are so many gods, so many myths. Some are good, benevolent, generous, the gods whom you pray in times of weakness and suffering.

Others, however, are cruel to mortals. They cheat to gain their trust and take what they want afterwards, usually taking lives with it. Only people with dark souls worshiped these gods, and you were scared of the amount of power that a few followers could give to a deity that had no interest in the good.

You still weren’t sure which one was the god in front of you.

The man called your name, moving his thumb gently on your cheek, the movement sending a wave of tranquility through you. It was a light, friendly touch. It couldn’t be someone who wanted to hurt you.

It felt like your mother's caresses, like when she taught you to plant flowers and shrubs in the yard of your house and wiped a spot of dirt from your cheek, the same soft, loving touch that you were feeling right now.

Your mind is swimming in a sea of ​​darkness and you cannot see anything but the smile of your mother. He is doing it again, immersing you in a memory of the past where you were happy, where you felt calm. He's trying to make you feel safe, you thought. Using your own memories to his benefit. You were confused and disoriented. One thing is clear: he doesn’t want you to be afraid.

"Look at me," you hear the soft voice of the stranger, just a word carefully whispered against your face, and suddenly you can see and hear everything again. The sky has darkened to a shade of pink and red, the last rays of sunset illuminating the river that is now freezing the tips of your toes. With a small jump you remove them from the water and bend your legs under you. Some birds sing in the distance, but it's just a whisper of farewells. The black horse of before still is eating grass, but now lazily, like waiting for the moment when he can leave.

Even the wind moving the branches of the trees and the air you breathe makes you feel so aware again, back in your senses.

The god had laid you on your back, the wetness of the lawn wetting the back of your dress. He had laid down on his side, leaning his face over yours and holding his weight with one hand, while the other removed the hair of your face.

His blue eyes drank every detail of your face and body, and the look of concern of before was now replaced by one of fascination and curiosity.

"You are Winter" you let out with a sigh, so low that he would not have heard it if he weren’t so close to you. "Master of memories and will." His eyes went up at yours, and a small smile curved his perfect lips again.

"You're such an interesting creature," he said in the middle of a laugh, caressing the side of his face with tenderness. "I knew you would find it out for yourself, but it took longer than I thought"

"What are you doing here?" You asked him, and you allowed yourself to feel proud that your voice didn’t shaked as doing so. "What are you doing with me?"

"What do you mean?"

"Gods and mortals don’t cross paths often. And when they do, usually it doesn’t end well”

The corner of Winter's mouth curled in a gesture of bitterness, and for a moment you wondered if you'd said something wrong.

"My people are not always the most pleasant, you're right" he said after a few seconds with something that sounded like annoyance while playing with the collar of your dress. "But I'm not here to hurt you or anyone else," he said, returning his eyes to yours. His gaze on you still made you shiver, but now in a different way. Winter's smile tinged with sadness as he whispered his next phrase, "Maybe just myself"

Winter's story was heartbreaking, to say the least. When he and Amer were still mere mortals they participated in a war older than your people. Winter and Amer were heroes in their day, defeating army after army of their enemies, but were unexpectedly betrayed by an alleged ally, and it was Winter who suffered the consequences.

It is said that he was tortured by the souls in pain of the soldiers who had chosen the path of evil and had joined the troops of Hydra, an evil deity that fed on power and fear. Winter was brave all those years; where an ordinary mortal would have surrendered after a short time, Winter persisted and endured all the punishments that his captors gave him. But someone can only endure a certain amount of suffering.

Over time, Winter lost his soul to the pain and torture, and memories of her mortal life with Amer and his loved ones disappeared. Hydra used him for centuries to torment those who opposed him, stealing the power of his choices and forcing him to harm innocent people. But it was not until Amer learned the truth that Winter was finally able to return to his side as his right hand and rest in peace.

When he became a god, his memories returned and his ability to choose his destiny forged his divinity. No one with the blessing of Winter would be manipulated to do anything against their will. In times when believers felt lost, Winter would return their most precious memories to keep going and not give up. Winter was the god of those who died a little inside and were born again, like the first ray of sun after a storm.

Winter was a good deity, one that would not harm an innocent in the way he was harmed. He wasn’t here to hurt you.

"If you're not here to hurt me, then, for what?" Any trace of fear had faded from your voice, now that you knew who your companion was. The small smile that adorned his lips was bright, affectionate. Like he has known you all your life. But then it became that mocking smile you'd seen before, a almost flirtatious flash appearing in his eyes.

"I've wanted to talk to you for a while" he pulled away from you a little, giving you back your personal space. You were grateful for that; his presence in itself was overwhelming without having him so close to you. His hand stayed in your stomach, however, a slight weight on the base of your belly. "I couldn’t find the right moment, until my friend over there forced me to come and greet you." He gestured at the black horse behind him, which had stopped chewing and is looking at you two disapprovingly.

"Who is it?" The question came out of your mouth before you could stop it. You didn’t want to push the limits with personal questions.

But Winter just laughed, shaking his head and giving the horse a look of amusement, "That's Sam, doll. He is getting bored and wants to go home. But I still have something to finish here." Winter felt your confused look and caressed his hand up and down your belly. "I think you know him as Falcon, if I'm not mistaken"

Your breath caught in your throat. You met two gods in one day, two gods who have apparently been watching you for a while.

Winter gave you a few minutes to recover before talking again. He was no longer smiling with that gleam of mischief and mockery, and instead his eyes returned to that look of curiosity and admiration. His hand continued to run up and down your stomach, the heat of his palm penetrating the fabric of the dress and leaving a pool of fire in your belly. "Your eyes are bright with this light," he whispered a few inches from you, his face so close to you that you could see his eyelashes and the shade of gray in his eyes. He had a slight stubble of beard, like the one that your brother grows when he spends several days without shaving.

You vaguely registered the sound of wings fluttering in the wind, and the back of your mind told you that Falcon –Sam– finally was gone. But your head was elsewhere, concentrating on keeping your pulse from sounding so loud that Winter could hear it over your breath.

He leaned over you, his nose brushing your own in a soft touch, light as a feather. The hand in your stomach moved to rest in the curve of your neck, his callous fingers caressing the sensitive skin within reach. With each passing moment your eyes felt heavier and heavier, and you couldn’t think of anything other than his lips so close to your own.

The hand on your collarbone moved to rest on the nape of your neck, cradling the back of your head as like holding you up. Winter's expression was difficult to read and at the same time so open, so clear. No one had ever looked at you the way he was doing it, as if you were a divine creature, something too fragile and gentle to be mistreated. You had never felt like someone undressed their soul before you, with all his desires and intentions.

And the intentions this god has with you made your legs tremble in anticipation.

Winter leaned closer still, as if that were possible. His beard tickled your cheeks, his breath mixing with yours. Your heart was beating so hard in your chest that you were afraid it would run out of it. Winter stroked your scalp gently, like he felt your nerves. "I want to remember you until our next time"

He didn’t give you time to think about what he told you. His lips brushed yours in a soft touch, doubtful, like he was asking for your permission. It took a few seconds to react, but then you moved your lips against his.

Kissing a god was definitely an experience to remember. Her lips felt soft against yours, his kiss chaste, almost timid. You haven’t kissed many people in your life, but you knew this kiss was different. His mouth moved in sync with yours, like he knew exactly what you were going to do next. The hand on the back of his neck had moved higher up, sinking into your hair and clenching his fist with softness in your hair.

You savored the kiss as much as you could, taking your hands to the furs that covered Winter's chest, holding him like an anchor that kept you on the ground. Your lungs screamed for air, but you couldn’t heed them. It was too good, too pleasant. The power of this man over you, the strength of his hands in your body, all over him consumed you like burning fire.

Winter pulled away from you with one last movement against your lips, leaning his forehead against yours and taking deep breaths. You didn’t know gods needed to catch their breath, but damn if you did. "Winter ..." you whispered breathlessly.

You heard his laugh and you felt his happy mood without having to open your eyes. "Call me Bucky," he whispered against your lips, his name sliding into the air with a trust worthy of his person.

You smiled for the first time in what felt like years, "Bucky"

Your heart pumped blood furiously into your ears and your chest rose up and down sharply. The soft brush of a hand against your swollen lips made you open your eyes slowly.

"Keep this memory until our next time" he whispered, running his thumb over your lower lip, a smile of happiness decorating his. You closed your eyes when his hand moved to your hair, caressing it away from your face and behind your ears. You hadn’t felt so calm and safe in years, since your mother died.

The hand in your hair slowly backed away, and when you opened your eyes to see his, Bucky was gone.

***

"Y/N!" Your brother shouted when he saw you approach the entrance of your house. The knot of nerves in your stomach loosened when you saw that your brother's expression was more relieved than furious. In a few seconds he was in front of you, the dust of the ground flying behind him, squeezing your face between his gigantic hands. "By all the gods, where have you been? I look everywhere for you, I thought a bandit- "

"Clint" you called his name, squeezing your hands in his and pulling them away from your face. It was past five already, and the sky had darkened; the stars and the moon had led you safely home. "Forgive me, brother. I fell asleep in the stream, and when I woke up it was late" you said with your best puppy eyes, begging him not to ask you any more questions. You didn’t want to lie to him, but you didn’t know whether it would be wise to tell him about your encounter with Bucky.

Clint frowned and gave you his 'You're in trouble, young lady' look. You knew you were, but you could not help but feel happy that you were. You still could not believe what had happened, what you had felt. And you would never have done it if you had not Fallen asleep several hours ago.

"I brought you carrots!" You hurried to add when Clint opened his mouth to continue to berate you, surely. You raised the small basket where you had hidden a few vegetables as a consolation prize, now that you knew Old Coulson didn’t know how many you harvested.

Clint opened his mouth to protest but closed it when you discovered the carrots, washed and clean. "I ..." he stammered, looking at the vegetables with longing. He took one of the basket and you smiled at your victory, knowing that you had tamed it. Clint noticed your satisfying smile, and as he took a big bite of the carrot in his hand, he tried to put the most serious and intimidating expression he could with his mouth full of food, "We haven’t finished this discussion! You are in serious trouble, Y/N"

"Yes, of course I am," you said mockingly, passing one side of him and walking towards the entrance of your cabin. "Hurry or I'll eat them all by myself!" you called for your brother behind your shoulder.

Clint ran after you towards the house, and before you could react he took the basket from your hands and fled to the safety of your home. "Clint!" You shouted, rushing behind him.

A/N: Ballynoe is the name of the village the reader lives in, and, in case you didn’t figured it out by yourself, Amer is a diminutive of ‘America’ which makes it obvious that yes, Amer is Steve. Sam is the god of the sky and the loyalty, and also is a shapeshifter, because that’s cool.

Also, the agriculture in this isn’t exactly accurate, but then I thought to myself ‘Fuck it is my own universe and I can plant whatever I please’ so yeah, ignore the potatoes.

I wanted to introduce waaay more god characters, but it was getting too long, so it didn’t happened. But I could always make a second part (oh god Salimah no you already have too many series ideas) if you guys wanted me to. As always, leave a comment of what you think and let me know if you see any mistake. 

[alohabucky]

Book Out Below!

Pairing: Bookshoper!Chris Beck x Reader (Third person POV)

Summary: Bookshop AU. Reader has never been into reading books, but until she entered very speical bookshop.

Words count: 719 

(A/N): Well, hello there! This gonna be my first drabble ever written down for @whotheeffisbucky‘s Writing Challange!! Nice feedback would be appreciated. Hope you’ll enjoy it  (✿◠‿◠)

@chrisevanshh - thank you. For everything.

(Y/N) (Y/LN) does not usually go to bookshops, or libraries, or anywhere you’d reasonably expect to find books. This isn’t because she has an issue with books— except, she totally does, paper is inefficient, she’d much rather use a tablet. Books as an idea, she has no issue with; just, the paper that goes into making it. 


So, (Y/N) does not usually go to bookshops, and so it’s entirely not surprising that the universe chooses to mock her the one time she does.


(Y/N) stares up at the book she needs, resting so unbelievably close and yet so far, the spine just visible on the top shelf. She’s not short, okay?! She’s not, but the book is so clearly out of her reach and she hasn’t slept in two days and kind of wants to stamp her foot and demand the book come down right now. Unfortunately, (Y/N) can’t yet use the Force, but not for lack of trying, and the book stubbornly remains out of reach. Why does the unvierse hate me, she thought, pouting. 


“Where’s a sales assistant when you need one?” she mutters grumpily, glaring up and down the aisles. (Y/N)’s just contemplating scaling the bookshelf, and picturing all the epic music and efficient hair-ruffling wind that would accompany such a stunt, when she’s abruptly saved. A pale arm, attached to a bicep about the size of (Y/N)’s head enters her field of vision and effortlessly plucks her prize from the shelf. (Y/N) follows the arm to equally impressive shoulders, a head of brunette hair that sits schockingly higher than (Y/N) own head and then, blue — sapphire blue eyes. Eye contact is a dangerous thing. But lovely, oh so lovely. His jawline, fluffy au plain chocolate locks, those bicesps. Man, he’s gotta be Adonis himself. And a NASA sweatshirt…? This makes him a hundred times more adorable and hot.


(Y/N)’s brain short circuits a little, and she stares dumbly as the tall, chocolate haired, perfect prince offers her the book with a bashful little smile that is astonishingly adorable.


“Here, you look like you needed a hand.” He says, all warm charm, and there’s a light blush on those pale cheeks and (Y/N) just wants to lick him.


“Uh, thanks, yeah, these shelves are just…yeah. I mean, I’m not short, I’m perfectly average, so these shelves must have been built for like, Vikings or something I don’t know.” (Y/N) rambles, coughs a little to shut herself up. 

Blue eyes crinkles into another adorable smile, and then finally seems to notice the book he’s just handed (Y/N).


“Oh! I love this book!” He enthuses, and his grin is so bright (Y/N) feels like she’s been given a gift. “It’s an excellent series, don’t you think?” (Y/N ) blinks, and then looks down at the book. In all honesty, she’s never read the series, never cared to, and she wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t the perfect birthday present for her friend Natasha, and she hadn’t accidentally called the guy she ditched saying she want to meet with him again. But she doesn’t want to admit, and (Y/N) flounders a moment. She can lie with the best of them, she knows she can, but faced with that blinding grin (Y/N) feels hopelessly, embarrassingly tongue tied.


“Uh, yeah! The last book just had me on the edge of my seat.” (Y/N) pretends, and blue eyes stares at her for a moment before his grin drops a little, and suddenly those eyes are twinkling at him slyly.


“You have no clue, do you?” He asks, and (Y/N) slumps her shoulders

.
“None.” she admits with a sheepish smile and beet red cheeks, but blue eyes doesn’t seem offended, just laughs in fact.


“My name’s Chris. Maybe I could transform you to a reader over coffee?” And the bashful smile is back, and (Y/N) is done for.


“(Y/N), and I think it’ll take more than coffee for that to happen.” (Y/N) laughs easily with another lightning grin. Chris smirks, and his eyes go dark, and there’s a promise there and (Y/N) can’t wait to find out what it is.


“Challenge accepted.” Chris murmurs, and (Y/N) decides there and then that bookstores are the best.

[grandmascottlang]

The Heroes of Our Kingdom (Captain America x Reader Royalty! AU) P1

Hi guys! I know that I don’t normally write fanfiction (I wish I could write them more often, I’m just very busy with school), but I wanted to start doing it again. I’m so sorry that this came out so late, this is just one hell of a month for me. I wanted this to be for @whotheeffisbucky   ‘s writing challenge, but with my idea, I wanted to make this a miniseries. I hope that you like my first ‘real’ post on Tumblr!

MASTERLIST

Once upon a time, there was a kingdom named Aelmere filled with happy and joy-filled citizens. The queen who ruled over the prosperous land was a just and kind ruler, and her subjects loved her for her warm personality and her perseverance to get important tasks done for the kingdom, and more importantly, her people.

Queen [Name] of Aelmere was a strong, dedicated woman to her kingdom; after her parents died when she was only sixteen, she had to mature quickly to rule over a nation with over a million inhabitants. She had to learn how to rule justly along with how to create laws, but the most important lesson that she had to learn was how to train an army and prepare a country for battle.

To her people, she was one of the strongest rulers of the nation, surpassing her parents and many other former rulers due to her involvement with the kingdom’s military and her knowledge of the law and the monarchy’s government system.

Unbeknownst to her, an attack was coming. In fact, it was the largest and most destructive attack the kingdom would ever see.

“Your Highness, you’re needed in the Board Room,” Captain Steve Rogers announced, alerting the queen that there was something strange going on in the kingdom.

“Steve, you know me better than that!” [Name] laughed, slapping him lightly on the shoulder, trying to lighten the mood. “We’re best friends! Even closer than that! From now on, I demand that you just call me [Name].”

Even through his stoic face, [Name] saw the Captain smile, an unusual occurrence with him. “Very well.” His smile immediately faltered when he reminded himself of the situation. “[Name], I’m serious. It’s urgent.”

[Name] was never one for the big, fancy, bountiful dresses that she owned. She rarely wore them, only when she was at an event or addressing the people.

She had never been more thankful in her life that she hadn’t worn a dress that day.

She ran all the way from her throne room where she was talking to a few citizens of the kingdom about some minor robberies (many of these robberies included crops) and asked for her advice on how to deal with them. Steve interrupted her meeting with the news of an unannounced board meeting.

They both got to the room in record time, adrenaline pumping through their veins.

“Your Highness.”

“What the hell is going on?”

[Name] was briefed on the events happening in a neighboring kingdom, Aelmere’s main ally, Newmere. Newmere was being attacked by the kingdom of Woodloch, who was ruled by the evil king, King Brock Rumlow.

“How did this happen? I thought that I had sent some troops to take down Rumlow’s dictatorship!” [Name] was infuriated thinking about the evil deeds that Rumlow has done.

“[Name], you need to calm down, it’s not your fault. The troops went in and…” Steve started, quickly being cut off.

“And what Captain? Did they never come out? Is that what you were going to say?” [Name] sighed, releasing her pent-up anger from the thought of 300 innocent men and women dying at Rumlow’s hands.

Steve didn’t respond, know that keeping his mouth shut was the best option in the tense moment.

“Your Highness, we need to think about this logically. There are two options: we get involved in Newmere and get Rumlow’s troops to run back to that hellhole of a place, starting an unofficial war by doing so, or we can declare war on them and attack them both directly and run them out of Newmere,” Captain James Barnes, or Bucky, laid out on the sand table. Both laid out military patterns had their own distinct pros and cons, but [Name] knew what she wanted to do.

“Howling Commandos, tell your men we’re preparing to go to war.”

Part 2

[rxdonmyledger]

We are Assassins.

Author’s Note: So, okay, basically I’m a huge nerd and when I saw @whotheeffisbucky ‘s challenge I couldn’t stop myself from doing this Assassins Creed/ Marvel AU. I hope you all like it! And tell me what you think!

Warnings: Language, Angst, Fluff.

Words: 2,666.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader.

AU for @whotheeffisbucky Writing Challenge.

“Our job is not to live in the past,” Natasha said with a sharp tone in her voice, her elegant and slim fingers flat on the table while her green eyes scanned the room. Steve pressed his lips on a thin line and sighed, sitting down. His face was a mask that covered every emotion the man could feel. “We are in danger, Rogers”

You witnessed their verbal exchange and wished you were in your bedroom, far away from the tense atmosphere there was inside the meeting room. Tony was unusually silent with his gaze on his hands, biting his lip.

“It’s not…” Steve started to say, only for Nat to reply abruptly, her green eyes flaming with anger. Her hand landed on the table, startling all of you. Bruce exchanged a look with you and made a grimace, making you to smile faintly.

“We are in danger and you know it. Our members are declining. You know that…”

“I know, Natalia!” Steve roared. His face was blushing as his blue eyes shone with rage. His tall frame was towering the table and all of you and you heard Tony sighing, lifting his hands.

“Okay, Cap. It’s okay. We are all tired. We need some rest. Let’s have some and we’ll discuss this later”

Natasha stormed out the room and Steve rubbed his forehead as Sam patted his shoulder. You sighed hastily and stood up, taking your dossier with you as you walked towards your own bedroom, hearing Natasha’s voice as she shouted to some novices. You knew her perfectly and you preferred to stay away from her in those moments in which she could kill you only with her glares.

You groaned and let your body fall on the bed, bouncing before covering yourself with the duvet, making you a tired burrito. You closed your eyes and tried to relax your tired muscles, recalling your last mission.

You had been infiltrated inside a worldwide famous company that belonged to Hydra, the powerful monetary group that belonged to the most elitist group around the world. Obviously, it was a hoax. A cover. Hydra belonged to the Templars, the oldest enemy of the Assassins, the organisation to which you belonged.

The Assassins found you after you whole life running away. Your mother had been an active member, a prestigious one and she was found dead. You were around fifteen. After what happened, you ran and learnt to survive on your own, becoming a shadow in broad daylight. After years undercover, the brotherhood found you and Tony took you under his protection, teaching you what the Assassins had been fighting for ages.

At first, you refused to listen to them. You had found your mother dead on your shared apartment and you didn’t want to be related to something that had taken your only family away from you. Tony didn’t push you. He told you to leave the compound whenever you felt like doing it, but he also warned you that you would be in danger, and that the Assassins only wanted to protect you. You had kept your belongings inside a bag and had left, finding a job on a bar. Weeks passed and you started to relax, thinking you were safe and you would be able to develop a life as an ordinary citizen.

But, oh, you were so wrong.

One night, you arrived to your apartment only to find several Templars waiting for you. You tried to resist, but they were stronger and better prepared than you were. You wished you had listened to Tony and his warnings and there you were almost kidnapped by an ancient group that believed God knew what.

One of the agents towered you and you closed your eyes, waiting for him to hit you when a grunt startled you. You fell on the ground and looked around you, noticing the bodies by your side and the frame of Steve Rogers staring at you.

“We must go. Now” He said sharply and you nodded, taking your few belongings in a bag and frowning as he stood on the window’s frame, staring at you.

“You must be joking”

“Follow me. And don’t worry, I don’t let you fall”

You muttered curses under your breath and took his hand, following him to the roofs, where he started to run with an agility that reminded you to a cat. You were astonished. He did it effortlessly while you struggled to keep balance and not to crash your head on the pavement.

“Over here” Steve said, jumping to the next roof and you stopped at the edge, looking under you.

“No fucking way, Rogers. I’m gonna die” you blurted out, feeling dizzy at the sight of the city beneath you. The blonde man sighed and looked at you, opening his arms.

“You won’t. Trust me”

“Fuck you!” you shouted, terrified of both the heights and the possibility you were being chased. Steve raised his eyebrow and grinned, shrugging.

“Okay, then. See ya!”

You jaw fell open as you saw Steve jogging over the roof, as if he was planning to leave you there. He couldn’t, right? Probably Tony had sent him and he would kill him if you were…RIGHT?

The man started to disappeared and you cussed, going backwards and taking a deep breath. You muttered something about Rogers’ ancestors and ran, jumping once you got to the edge. You felt like flying, the city under your feet, before you landed on the other roof, breathing shakily. Steve stared at you and grinned, clapping his hands.

“Good job, Y/N”

“Fuck you, Rogers”

Once you were in the compound, Tony told you the changes between the Templars and the Assassins, and how the first ones wanted you. They were aware of your abilities and wanted you to fight by their side.

“I don’t have any abilities,” you had shouted, moving your arms. “I didn’t know how to even jump that roof”

Finally, you started to train, noticing the changes in yourself, both physically and psychologically. The story you were told had started to leave a mark on you. You started to understand what your mother fought for. The ideology and what the Assassins stood for.

Things had been smooth for now. At least, as smooth as it could be, taken into account you were immersed in an ancient war. But everything had changed the moment a new Templar had been taking down your basements and killing your agents.

The ones who survived called him The Winter Soldier.

Your hand went to the scar that went from your shoulder to your arm. You remembered that mission. You had been sent to dismantle one of the Templar basements and he was there. He hurt you with his knife and Tony found you barely alive. The doctors were not sure if you would survive. You had been bleeding terribly.

But you did. You survived and focused on finding that man.

Due to your cover, you accessed to Hydra’s database only to discover the files related to the infamous Winter Soldier, who was James Buchanan Barnes, Steve’s best friends and old mate. The moment you read it your heart had stopped, knowing this information would break his heart.

You sighed and took your sweatshirt with the hood, opening the window and climbing to the roof. The compound was in the middle of the city and still, it was unknown for the common citizen. The buildings of New York embraced it and protected it from the Templars’ attacks.

You covered your head with the hood, taking a deep breath while observing the city, your eyes going every building and light that caught your attention. You felt free for once. Far from responsibilities and the menace of your enemies. Far from the fear of having a gun on your temple. Far from the Assassins.

You heard his footsteps before he even got to the roof. You couldn’t avoid the smile creeping on your lips and put your hands inside the pocket of your hood, waiting patiently. You sat down and let your legs hanging from the edge of the building. During your time inside the brotherhood, you had managed to stop being afraid of heights. Sometimes, you even enjoyed your rides over the roofs, jumping and hiding. It was somehow liberating.

“What if I pushed you from this roof?” A deep voice filled your ears and you smiled wider, licking your lips before replying.

“Your problems would be solved, I suppose. Well,” you added with a mocking tone. “At least one of them. Because if you kill me, you will face the rage of the Assassins”

“As if they didn’t hate me yet,” the man replied with a tired voice before sitting by your side. You didn’t even turn. You knew he would be wearing his black hood and his gloves. Always his gloves, even in summer.

“It wasn’t your fault, James”

“They don’t care” he spitted with a harsh voice as his hands clenched. He bit his lip and you felt your heart sinking down at the sight. “They only care about the creed. Like the Templars did”

“We fight to protect humanity and the artefacts from the hands of the…”

“They think the same, Y/N” Bucky said, looking at you, his blue eyes observing you as if they could go over every spot of your soul. You swallowed hard and he sighed, shaking his head before smiling faintly. “I’ve missed you every day”

You closed your eyes and smiled, your mind wandering to the moments you lived with him in Romania. The moments in which the world didn’t matter, because your world, was between the arms of the other.

Romania, several years ago.

“Доброе утро, принцесса” You smiled at the raspy voice but ignored him, feeling the tip of his fingers brushing against the soft skin of your sides. The mattress shifted under his weight as he approached you, his mouth blowing air behind your ear. Bucky chuckled and his fingers dug on your skin, his teeth grabbing your earlobe.

“Don’t even try…I know you’re awake”

You grumbled and covered yourself with the covers, not watching him as he rolled his eyes and shook his head. Bucky smiled at the sight of your body as it became a burrito and moved, biting his lip to muffle his laughs. You groaned in pain when he used his heavy body to crush you against the mattress.

“Move away, bastard!” you shouted, kicking your legs in the air in order to free yourself. Bucky roared in laughter and rolled to the side. You took advantage and straddled him, smiling triumphantly. He smirked and placed his hands on your hips, biting his lips.

“I didn’t know you wanted to wake up like this”

You hummed and purred, scratching his chest with your nail, hearing him hissing. You laughed and started to tickle him, making Bucky to jolt and growl, trying to free himself from your weight, which, to be honest, was not a difficult task. His large hands grabbed your hips and raised his body from the mattress, his arms around your body while his nose rubbed against yours. You smiled and touched his long hair, caressing his cheeks. Bucky leant against the hand, smiling at you.

“Look what have you done to me…” he muttered before kissing your digits, looking at you with his blue eyes. Your gaze softened at the meaning of his words. You knew what we had been before. He knew your story and you knew his. And still, you were together. “Just when I thought nobody would love me…”

“Shhh…don’t talk about that. Let’s enjoy the moment”

Bucky nodded and pressed his head against your chest, closing his eyes as he listened to your heartbeats. He felt home between your arms, as if the outside world did not exist. In that room, it was just the two of you, nothing else. You peppered kiss on his forehead, muttering loving words and whispering a lullaby as he hugged you tighter.

“Thank you for being with me” he muttered, kissing you and falling on the mattress, bringing you down with him. You screamed and laughed aloud, Bucky observing you in awe. He didn’t understand how an angel like you could have felt something for a man like him. His fingers played with your hair and you bit your lip, smiling at him. “What?” he asked, frowning. You chuckled and straddled him.

“Nothing” you replied with an innocent tone in your voice, making Bucky to shudder. Your hands were playing with the hem of his shirt, which you were wearing. He bit his bottom lip and hissed, large hands grabbing your hips.

“Doll…”

Time later you’d be watching him taking his belongings. His sad eyes observing your features as you were leaning against the doorframe. The sun surrounding your figure as if you were really an angel that had come to be with him.

“Do you have to?” you had muttered with a fainted voice, swallowing the lump that had formed inside your throat. Bucky nodded and pressed a kiss on top of your head, trying to control his sobs until he could be alone. He couldn’t break if he wanted you not to cry.

“We’ll meet again, Y/N”

“Do you promise?” You lifted your head and locked your eyes with his, watching his reassuring smile.

“I swear. As long as I breathe, I’ll find a way to come back to you”

He did.

It didn’t mind the mission or the country he was in. Bucky always found you. Goodbyes were hard and left you with a broken heart. Especially when you joined the Assassins. Where was your loyalty? It was known inside the brotherhood that the artefacts were more important than anything else.

“We serve a higher purpose, Y/N.” Tony had explained to you one night. And in a way, you had believed him.

But with the brotherhood trying to capture Bucky, an old member of the Assassins, captured and brainwashed by the Templars, the Winter Soldier, but also the man you loved, where were you standing with? Your heart? Or your brain?

“I must convince them” you spoke, surprising Bucky, who stared at you. His heart melted at the idea of you fighting for him. For you two. But he was clever enough to not allow that.

“You can’t. Do you really think they will forgive me?” He took your hands and covered your face with soft kisses, whispering against your skin. “I won’t let you risk your life for me, Y/N. Whatever is about to come, is more important than I am.”

“I thought you didn’t believe in the creed.” you retorted ironically, watching as he sighed before smiling faintly, cupping your cheek. You leant against his touch, staring at him.

“We work in the dark…” he started, speaking at the same time you did. “…to serve the light.”

“We are Assassins.” You finished, looking at Bucky and his blue eyes sparkling with emotion. He pressed a kiss on your lips, tears running down his cheeks. “Stay with me”

“I will. One day, I’ll come back, when the creed allows me to. When I don’t need to run anymore.”

Bucky helped you to stand on your feet, gazing at the city lights that shone around you. He covered his head with the hood and you mimicked him, taking a deep breath. Your fingers found his and you squeezed them, noticing his thumb caressing the back of your hand.

“I love you” you muttered, feeling your phone vibrating inside your pocket. Bucky smiled and kissed you again, whispering a Go before moving away from you. You walked and took a deep breath, jumping to the next roof, feeling James’ eyes fixed on your figure.

“I love you.” He replied, not sure if he would be able to see you again, watching you disappearing in the darkness before he did the same, running, escaping again.

You were Assassins.

[stupidsweaterwearingdumbdorks]

Red

Alternately, Red Lipstick

Characters: Bucky Barnes x fem!reader

Summary: Reader wears red for a reason.

Warnings: Fluff. Anxiety/confidence issues? Angst if you squint.

A/N: Hello! My name is Belle and this is my first time posting my writing on any kind of platform ever. I’m actually super nervous about it. I love reading fanfiction and up until now I only ever wrote for my personal enjoyment. Please leave feedback if you can! 

Masterlist

***My writing is not to be reposted except with my explicit written permission. Reblogging is fine***

Confidence wasn’t something Y/N had acquired easily.

Leaning over her bathroom counter, she could feel the confidence that had coursed through her earlier that morning begin to dwindle, replaced with an anxiety that had nearly immobilized her to her bed. But then Bucky Barnes had come home, the love of her life, all smiles for his favourite girl, and she knew she wouldn’t be able to let him down.

Last week Bucky had cheerfully informed her that there would be a dinner put on at the Avengers Tower, a sort of celebration that the team had stayed- and grown, albeit- together. It wasn’t often they got to be all in one place at the same time, and for once, Bucky had actually been excited to attend such a gathering of people. They were his friends, his family, and nothing was more important than that.

Except Y/N.

Which is why it was so important to him for Y/N to come to this function. Although they had been dating for close to eight months now, she had yet to meet his team members. Their relationship had been taken slow, both because he hadn’t wanted to drag anyone into his dangerous world and because he wasn’t sure if he would be ready for someone like Y/N to be let into his fragile heart.

But, there they were, spending more time together than they did apart, and in just a few short hours, Y/N was about to meet the Avengers. Which was why, at this very moment, she was fixated on her image in the mirror, delicately applying red lipstick.

To say she was nervous was an understatement. She wasn’t like any of those gods, those heroes that Bucky called his friends. She had no powers, no special skills. She was just Y/N, an ordinary girl who just happened to fall in love with a super soldier. And that’s why this occasion warranted for red lipstick.

Actually, she had not only chosen the colour red for her lips, but she had chosen to wear it, too. A midi-length, satin red dress that looked more like a slip than it did a dress that went well with a good pair of black heels, to be exact. For Y/N, the colour wasn’t just any other colour on the spectrum. Instead, it represented a confidence and a power she didn’t believe she had most days. When she wore the colour red, it was to show everyone around her that she was strong, comfortable with her personality, and ready to take on the world. Wearing red meant business. And tonight, she would be taking on one of the most difficult challenges she had yet faced: meeting her boyfriend’s best friends.

Had she psyched herself up for this too much? Yes. Even as she inspected her handiwork in the mirror, smoothing her dress and fussing with her hair for the millionth time, she suspected she probably could have taken in down a notch. But Y/N didn’t take the phrase fake it ‘till you make it lightly. It was exactly what she intended to do: fake the confidence long enough for her to actually be confident.

“Baby?” Bucky knocked on the other side of her bathroom door, checking his watch.

“Are you almost ready? We should leave soon.”

Y/N took a deep breath. She could do this. Everything would be fine. “Coming right out!” she called softly.

Taking one last look in the mirror, she slung her purse over her shoulder, pocketing the tube of lipstick within it so she could reapply later, and opened the door to where she knew her boyfriend would be waiting patiently.

Bucky Barnes was sitting on the edge of her bed, hands folded across his lap, wearing a tailored jacket and slacks, a dark red dress shirt visible beneath it. The top buttons were undone, almost casually, so just a little bit of chest hair peeked through. When she saw him, her jaw had dropped open.

A similar effect had overtaken Bucky.

Y/N, light of his life, had dressed up for the occasion. Her dress, although loose in places, fitted her form so perfectly that he instantly wanted to tighten his hands around her hips. Her hair had been neatly styled up off her neck, letting her face be the first thing you focused on. Her lips had been painted a brilliant shade of red Bucky couldn’t remember ever seeing on her. His mouth salivated a little; he stood up to walk towards her.

“You look…” he began to say, but no words could be used to describe what she looked like.

“You too,” she beamed, clasping her hands nervously in front of her, smiling tentatively. She wondered if she had lipstick smeared on her teeth.

Bucky placed his hands on either side of her hips, squeezing lightly. “Y/N, you look beautiful. Scratch that, gorgeous. No, scratch that too...you look hot.”

Y/N giggled, her anxiety dissipating under the gaze of her beloved, who could barely get any words out like it was their first time meeting. She placed her hand on his cheek, rubbing the nicely trimmed scruff there. “You clean up pretty good yourself, Barnes.”

He leaned down, lips puckered, looking for a kiss. She stopped him, her hand smooshing his cheeks together, and his eyes widened with surprise at her refusal to his kiss. “Oh no you don’t Buckaroo, you’re going to wreck my lipstick.”

He laughed and she let go of his face, laughing with him. He settled for a kiss on her cheek instead. Then he let go of her waist and took her hand, walking them slowly to her door.

“You look good, baby,” he hummed, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. “Are you sure you’re still okay with this? I know you’re a little nervous.”

She smiled at his concern for her. Sure, meeting the Avengers was nerve-wracking. Even more so was trying to keep lipstick from smudging. But reminding herself of the reason she wore red tonight, and the fact that her loving boyfriend would be there with her, Y/N didn’t feel so scared anymore.

“I’m wearing red lipstick, Bucky Barnes. I can do anything.”

(tagging my fave writers/followers [i love all of you though])

@softlybarnes @captainrogerss @whirlybirbs @redgillan @buckyforbreakfast @irndad @captain-ariel-barnes @bucky-plums-barnes @abovethesmokestacks @whotheeffisbucky @lovelynemesis @buckyywiththegoodhair @barnesrogersvstheworld @romanianseabass @captain-asthmatic @alternateafterthought

[saergentdaddy-moved-blog]

Move On and Let Go (Bucky Barnes)

Summary: There’s something about your past you can’t forget.

Warning/s: (mentions of) blood, death of parents, nightmares

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

A/N: this was supposed to be my submission for @rotisserierogers‘s halloween writing challenge but then i realized halfway through writing that this was not the basis of my prompt (my prompt was distanced clapping) and had a better idea for it. bUT I DIDN’T WANT TO SCRAP THIS BECAUSE THIS WAS THE ONLY FIC THAT HAD A DECENT ENDING OK I LOVE IT

The gym felt empty.

It’s 2 in the morning. Reality has become altered, like everything around you has stopped breathing, but was still standing. The city lights of Manhattan were still on, but you know the city was asleep, like it didn’t want to sleep without the lights turned off. 

You sit on a bench in front of a big window that faces the city, letting your eyes wander around the glowing skyscrapers that littered the streets. Your coffee is beginning to cool in your hands, so you take a sip and savor its bitter taste. You shiver under your blanket and tug it closer to your chest area. Why did you even change into a sports bra and leggings? Maybe it’s because you were awake at such an ungodly time and you weren’t thinking a little too well.

Why you were in the gym at 2 A.M. was beyond your understanding. It wasn’t like this was your first time being awake before your mental clock. Nightmares don’t always occur, but when they do, you don’t get up and change into your workout clothes and go to the gym. Nightmares of your past, coming back like a ghost made out of the reminders that you’re not what you seem.

Images of dripping blood plagued your mind like a fast-reacting infection, like water splashing all over your body. Dead bodies littered your memories like an abandoned cemetery, worms made out apologies and bugs made out of pleas feasting on their rotting, unapologetic flesh. Screams of the innocent ring in your ears like clumsy church bells, reminding you that you’re sleep-walking on an ocean of freedom from your past you cannot baptize yourself in.

You shiver again, but it wasn’t from the cold.

The anger you felt from the days you served HYDRA was indescribable. You were young, you were stupid, and you wanted to avenge your parents, like some idiot with no back-up plan. You wanted to find who murdered your parents, you wanted to slash their throat and tell them to fuck off because it gives you the validation you want, because it just seemed to be the right thing to do.

You were so busy looking for their murderer that you didn’t realize you were turning into a murderer yourself.

How you gave in to missions that churns something in you, how you participated in disgusting activities just to make HYDRA proud. It was toxic, but it was also intoxicating; the sense of power that surges through your veins when you successfully finished a mission, the bloodlust that you feel when you finally kill the target you were assigned to, the sound of the loud, audible splatter of their blood on your uniform and on the floor. These used to be addictions, obsessions, like drugs out of your reach. But as soon as you killed half of the HYDRA agents as a declaration that you were quitting, the act of killing the innocent has become disgusting to you.

Now you were working for the Avengers. Nothing too special; you were just a regular agent-assassin like Natasha. You didn’t feel the bloodlust that you felt before while on missions. You didn’t feel the sense of validation when you killed your target. It just felt like you’ve done something small but right for the world. Killing a corrupt man who has the potential to destroy the world seemed a lot better instead of killing an innocent man that posed as a future threat to an already powerful organization.

But intrusive thoughts always clouded your mind. Thoughts about how you miss that bloodlust, how you long for the morbid satisfaction you get when you force a knife into a human’s chest. Thoughts about wanting to repeat the disgusting actions you did before.

Thoughts about how good it felt to be a murder machine.

You can never outrun your past; you can never overlook what you’ve done. It will always come back to you, to remind you that you were not and will never be a good person. It’s fascinating to realize that you can’t forget about your past when it’s filled with the most horrific things. This is why you can remember every accident you’ve been in, every mistake you’ve made, every mishap you’ve encountered. Pain has much more value than happiness.

You have finished your cup of coffee.

You glance at your wrist watch; it was 2:28. You place your cup down on the bench and take off your blanket. You stand up, stretching a little bit, before walking to the nearest heavy bag.

You stare at it, intently.

You imagine the heavy bag as the face of your parents’ murderer. It was just a blank head, with no nose, no pair of eyes, and no mouth. It was just a blank human with only one thing in their mind; merciless slaughter.

Anger begins to bubble up in your veins, remembering just how pissed off you felt when you saw your parents on the floor, swimming on a huge pool of their own blood. You knew, in that moment in your life, that you were going to set your heart into looking for who was responsible for their deaths. At 12 years old, you already knew what you wanted to be when you grow up.

You roughly kick the heavy bag, grunting gruffly when it didn’t fall over to the floor like you expected it to. You gave it an uppercut, as if it had a jaw.

But you also remember how you dropped your school bag in shock when you saw your parents’ bodies in the living room, how you dropped to your knees and let out a wretched sob. Anger mixed with sadness was like five glasses of Jack Daniels; a melancholic hangover and a mind filled with memories of last night’s bad decisions. You were so inspired by your depression that you thought the only thing that could make you happy again was to kill this person, this insolent and heartless bastard, who murdered the only people who cared about you.

You relentlessly kick and punch the heavy bag, your grunts turning into angry screams each time you land a hit on it. Hot, fresh tears are streaming down your face and your vision is blurred. With one particular hit, though, the heavy bag bounced back and hit you on the face, forcing you to topple onto the ground. You land on your butt, but you don’t get back up. Instead, you just let yourself sit there and cry it all out.

You missed your parents. You missed how they always greet you when you come home from school. You missed how they ask you how your day went. You missed when you came up to them when you had a really bad nightmare. You just missed how they loved you, how they cared for you. But some jackass had the nerve to take it all away from you, take the only people you loved and cared about.

You don’t understand what it’s like to move on and let go. You still don’t understand it, but the concept of it is beautiful. How to let go of your past, how to let go of the people you love, how to let go of the people that don’t deserve you. It sounds like the most refreshing thing ever.

You don’t know how you’ll ever move on from your parents’ death. You don’t know when you’ll ever move on from their murderer. But you know, you just know, that you’ll eventually forget about the grudge you’ve been holding onto since you were 12, and move on.

Faint claps reach your ears, and you whip your head around to see Bucky clapping at you. You never knew Bucky on a personal level. (Working back at HYDRA doesn’t count, because you simply co-existed with each other.) You only had a few conversations, and that was it. Seeing him awake at 2 in the morning didn’t really come as a surprise to you, but seeing him in the gym surprised you.

“B – Bucky?” you stutter out through your sniffles.

“Nice form, doll. I’ve never seen anyone fight that passionately before.” he comments. He walks over to you and lends you his metal hand. You shiver when you held the cold metal plates in his palms as he helped you up.

“What’s got ya all worked up?”

“It’s – it’s just –“

You want to speak up, to tell Bucky how you feel about the thoughts you were having. He seemed to be the perfect person to talk about this, too. “I had a b – bad nightmare. Like a really bad one. That’s why I’m here, just punching and beating up my anxiety and stress away.”

Bucky pulled an apologetic face, saying how he had woken up with the same reason. He began to sympathize with you, stating his personality aspects that make him feel more recognizable. When you looked at Bucky, it felt like you were looking at a mirror. You saw so many similarities in him that you had. You identified yourself within him. It made you feel like you weren’t alone. That someone understood you.

That someone was there for you.

Taglist:

@rotisserierogers, @beyondbarnes, @barnres, @whotheeffisbucky, @capsbuchanan, @captnbarnesrogers, @papi-chulo-bucky, @buckyywiththegoodhair, @fvckingavengers, @fvckingsteverogers, @marvelous-fvcks, @bucky-plums-barnes

[themcuhasruinedme]

I Need You Tonight

[Summary]: You and Scott knew each other since you were kids; playing together in the kitchen, hide-n-seek in the royal gardens, summers spent on the beach that was near your father’s kingdom. But you were a princess and Scott? Well, he was the kitchen boy. And as you two grew up together, the feelings between the two of you blossomed. But once you found out that your parents had an arranged marriage for you, you wanted nothing more than to be with Scott for the rest of your life.

[Pairing]: Scott x reader (mentions of Steve, Peggy and Tony)

[Warning]: A bit of “sexy time” (but it’s over pretty fast)

[Word Count]: 3,564 words (OMG, what did I do???)

Tagging: @bovaria @marvel-ash @just-call-me-mrs-captain @dividedwecantfall @buckysmetallicstump @mellifluous-melodramas @avengerofyourheart @buckyslion @metalarmproblems @marvelingatthewonder @beccaanne814-blog @mcuimxgine @capsbuchanan @imagine-assembling-the-avengers @that-sokovian-bastard @hellomissmabel @abovethesmokestacks @maybe-mikala @violentlyfarts @hymnofthevalkyries @after-avenging-hours @buckys-shield @buckysberrie @callamint @redgillan @whotheeffisbucky @candyrogers @tragicalchemist @marvelous-fvcks @professionally-crazed @thetalesofmooseandsquirrel @fanfic-shiz @i-dont-know-how-to-write @iwillbeinmynest @theassetseyeliner @lilasiannerd @aubzylynn @viollettes @sgtbxckybxrnes @marvelatthepeople @raegan-darling @iamwarrenspeace @marvelrevival @pufflethehuff @alwayshave-faith @magnitude101999 @oh-my-chuck-you-assbutt

A/N: BSB gif was made by yours truly! Yep... yet another fic using Backstreet Boys as the inspiration... I have no shame in this [x] This is for @sgtbxckybxrnes’s “AU Writing Challenge”. Prompt is in BOLD. I’ve never written an AU before, so this was a really interesting experience for me. I really enjoyed it, so I might be writing some more AU’s in the future :)

Scott and you were the best of friends growing up; You played together and caused mischief for the cooks in the kitchen. Played hide-n-seek in the gardens. Scott taught you how to catch a fish with your bare hands in the pond. The two of you would spend your summer days at the beach.

The only thing that seemed to separate the two of you were your social circles: you were a princess and Scott? Well, he was the kitchen boy. 

You see, his mother and yours were both pregnant at the same time and gave birth only a couple months apart, him being born before you. His mother was a kitchen maid and, as crazy as it sounds, enjoyed her work in the kitchen. The King and Queen thoroughly enjoyed what would be served from the kitchen, not knowing at times it was her own family recipes handed down to her from three generations.

That still didn’t stop the two of you when you were children from playing together. You two enjoyed each other’s company. And sometimes, Scott’s mother allowed him to spend the night in your room where the two of you would tell each other stories, have pillow fights and make a fort from your blankets but would make sure he was back in the kitchen before sun up.

Queen Peggy didn’t really like the idea of you spending time with him but she figured since you were little and there was nobody else around for you to play with, she would allow it. And she allowed Scott to stay and take over his mother’s place in the kitchen when she had got really sick and passed away. After all, how would an eight year old fend for himself?

As the two of you got older, you both started to see each other in a different way. Scott had grown into a very handsome young man and you found him to be more attractive, sometimes having those butterfly feelings when you were with him. And you? You had grown into a very beautiful woman that Scott couldn’t help but stare at when he was with you. It seemed like the two of you were meant to be, even if you came from total opposite ends of society.

It was during a beautiful summer night where Scott finally got the courage to tell you how he felt and kiss you while the two of you sat on the beach, right in the surf. Those butterfly feelings had happened even more than usual that night and you told him you felt the same. He held your hand and you placed your head on his shoulder, both of you feeling like everything was falling into place. The two of you started taking about the future and being married, even though you knew the family would look down on you for this. Or worse, lock Scott up so you couldn't see him again. Or even worse than that: banish him from the kingdom.

But when you found out that your parents had planned an arranged marriage for you, you lost it. Even though this may not have been the appropriate time to say it, you had already made your decision on who you wanted to be with and marry. You let your secret relationship out of the bag to your parents.

“But I want to be with Scott!” you yelled. “Scott and I want to be married!”

King Steve’s face turned as red as a tomato. “You, young lady, are a princess and will be marrying royal blood. I will NOT have my daughter marry some... some... kitchen boy!”

“I knew I should've stopped this friendship from going any further as you two got older. Are you willing to put shame on this family by marring him? He’s nothing! At least meet Prince Tony. How can you say you don't want to marry him? You haven't even met him yet. And besides,” Queen Peggy said. “That was how your father and I met, from an arranged marriage.”

Tears started to collect on the brim of your eyes. “But... but..”

“I will have none of that, young lady! You will meet Prince Tony tomorrow and I don’t ever want to hear about this kitchen boy ever again. Do I make myself clear?” King Steve said.

You never responded. The tears broke freely and you ran to your room, throwing yourself on the bed. You wept for hours, not wanting to see anyone or even eat anything.

When you had ran from the room in tears, King Steve called on his servant to fetch Scott. He was in the middle of peeling the potatoes for that night’s dinner when the servant came over to him.

“His Majesty, the King would like to see you.”

Scott swallowed hard. It felt like a boulder came out of nowhere and dropped in his stomach. He was hoping it wasn’t about him wanting to marry you but his gut told him otherwise.

He followed the the servant and entered the King’s chamber. It almost felt like he was walking to the guillotine. When he stood in front of the King, he bowed so low that he felt like the ground was sinking beneath him.

“So, you’re Scott?” King Steve asked.

He nodded, tiny beads of sweat already forming on his forehead. He wasn’t sure if it was polite to wipe them off in front of the King but he did anyway.

“What is this mockery I hear of wanting to marry my daughter? You’re not of royal blood. You’re just a kitchen boy. I won’t stand for this.”

“If you please, your Excellency, I um... want to marry your daughter because I love her.”

King Steve roared with laughter. “You?! A worthless kitchen boy in love with a princess? I can’t believe my ears.” He paused and looked at Scott, who was looking down. “No. You are no longer allowed to see her. She is being wed to a prince and there will no longer be contact between the two of you. Your relationship with her is now over. And now for your punishment.”

Scott looked up at the King, his face hot and trying to hold back the tears as best as he could. The King sat a minute and thought about what to do with this lowly kitchen boy standing before him. He stroked his beard a few times and pondered.

“You are hereby banished from the palace. You are now to live amongst the people. I will be generous in this though; I will have my servant find you a house. But you will never be able to see [Y/N] again.”

The tears were let go on that last sentence. Scott couldn’t bear the thought of not being with you, the love of his life. There had to be a way that the King could see how much the two of you meant to each other. 

The servant led Scott back to the kitchen and let him pack the few things he had. He then led Scott outside the palace walls and into the town where he asked around about a spare house. Some folks couldn't say if there was one but luckily, one peasant did. She led the two of them to a small shack.

“An elderly couple had lived here and they have both passed on. It’s been vacant for so long that most people have forgotten about it,” she explained.

The servant thanked her as she walked away and turned to Scott. He bowed and said, “You will be staying here then. You are no longer permitted to have contact with Princess [Y/N] any longer from this moment on. Farewell, sir.”

Leaving him in a somewhat empty shack, Scott went and laid on the bed that was left, and cried himself to sleep. 

When you got word the next morning that Scott had been banished, you went to see your father about reconsidering but was greeted by a sight of Prince Tony talking to your parents.

“Ah, [Y/N]. I was just going to have the servant come and get you. This is Prince Tony,” the King said.

You tried to make yourself look somewhat presentable and curtsied. Tony bowed at you, took your hand and kissed the top of it.

“The pleasure is all mine, dear Princess. You will make a fine wife for my kingdom.”

You smiled a crooked smile, trying to hide the disgust in your face. Arrogant men were such a turn off for you. You slowly pulled your hand away as Tony kept kissing it but moving up your arm.

“Father, I must speak with you privately,” you said, turning towards him.

Your father looked at you, knowing exactly what you wanted to talk about. He shook his head ever so slowly so only you’d be able to notice. You couldn't believe what was happening to you. The one man that you truly loved and wanted to marry, now banished and in his place was a sutck-up, arrogant snobby prince that you wanted nothing to do with. There had to be a way to let your father allow you to marry Scott.

A couple days after Prince Tony’s arrival, you had just about enough of him. But you had promised your mother that you would have at least one dance with him. And that dance couldn't come soon enough.

When the ball finally arrived, you stayed close to your parents and watched the people dance and mingle. You were all smiles as you watched everyone and admired the dresses the women wore and the fancy suits the men wore; that was until Prince Tony came over. He bowed to the King and Queen, wished them a good evening and came over to you.

“Good evening, Princess,” he said.

You smiled a weak smile as he took your hand and kissed the top of it several times.

“May I have this dance?” he asked.

You quickly glanced at your mother, who nodded and practically wanted to push you on the dance floor with him. You nodded, curtsied, gathered your skirts and went to dance with him.

It was the most miserable five minutes of your life. You swore to yourself to never have it happen again. After it was over, you excused yourself and stayed in your room for the rest of the ball.

The next morning, you couldn't take it any more. It had been a week since you saw Scott and needed to know where he was and if he was ok. And you knew just who to talk to: the servant that saw him out.

You found him standing outside the meeting room that the King was in; apparently there was a big diplomatic meeting going on today. You stood next to him and smiled. He looked at you with suspicion behind his eyes.

“Yes, Princess [Y/N]? Do you require your father’s presence? He’s in a meeting.”

“No,” you playfully answered. “I just need a small tidbit of information from you.”

“And what information are you requiring?”

“I think you already know. And if I don’t get what I want to know, I have some information on you that father would be shocked to hear.”

His eyes widened and a small bead of sweat had formed on his forehead. He tried to keep his mouth shut but it slipped. “He’s living in a small little shack in town now. That’s all I know.”

“Thank you,” you said and gave a small smirk, blowing a kiss to him as you walked away.

You sat down at your desk and wrote out a letter to him

My Dearest Scott,

I miss you terribly. There is not a day that goes by that I don't think of you.

The prince they have here for me is an absolute wretched thing. Arrogant, stuck-up and very self-centered. I cannot stand being around him. Just the thought of being married to him makes me sick to my stomach.

I would love to find a way to see you. I miss seeing your beautiful smile and hearing your laugh. I miss everything about you. I still need you in my life. I will find a way to see you. I must.

I hope this letter finds you in good health and that you’re doing ok.

Love you with all my heart,

Princess [Y/N]

You put the letter in an envelope and placed it under your pillow, waiting until everyone had went to bed to find the servant again, standing at his post outside the King’s bedroom.

“Princess [Y/N]! What are you doing up at this time of the night?” he asked when you came over to him.

“I need you to do me a favor again.”

He looked at you and shook his head. “No. No more favors. I feel as though I betrayed the King already for what happened earlier.”

“Please?” you begged. “Or I will let father know.”

He sighed and said, “Fine. What do you require of me this time?”

You pulled out the envelope and handed it to him. “I know the cooks have to go out to the market tomorrow. If you could tell them where Scott is living and have them drop this off at his living quarters, I would very much appreciate it.”

He took the envelope from you and stuck it inside his shirt. “Yes, I will,” he said.

“Thank you,” you said, gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and walked away to go back to sleep.

“The things I do for that girl,” he thought to himself.

When a soft knock came on Scott’s door, he was surprised. He didn’t think anyone knew he was there. But when he opened the door and saw no one there, he was a little curious about who knocked. And then he noticed it; an envelope sitting on the ground in front of the door. He picked it up and looked at it, immediately recognizing the handwriting on the front. He opened it so fast, he’s surprised he didn't get a paper cut from it.

He read it and in the first time in weeks, had the biggest smile on his face. His heart felt like it was going to explode from reading your precious words, except for the part about how horrible the prince was. He sat down and started to write back immediately.

My Sweet [Y/N],

Seeing your letter has filled me up with so much joy. I am beyond words to express how my heart feels right now. I too, think about you all the time.

I am a bit saddened to read what you are going through with this prince they have picked for you. I wish nothing more than to get back there and free you from marrying him.

I would also love to see you. I miss seeing your beautiful face and those beautiful eyes that sparkle in the sunlight. There must be a way that we can see each other.

Just know that I am doing ok and that I am perfectly fine.

Yours forever and always,

Scott

He looked at it and smiled, proud of the words he just wrote out to you. Now the question was, was how is this going to get back to you. He thought and thought and it finally hit him: the cooks! He knew that they came into town to get food because he had did it a few times to help out. They must’ve been the ones to drop the letter off. The cooks would surely recognize him when they came back into town to stock up on food again.

And sure enough, that’s what happened. When the cooks came back to town a couple days later, Scott was in the market with his letter to meet them. The one recognized him instantly and they hugged. Then he took out his letter and handed it to them.

“Please make sure that this reaches Princess [Y/N] safely,” he said as the one took it and hid it in his jacket.

“We will,” the one had said and with that they had paid for their supplies, said their goodbyes to Scott and walked back to the palace.

The King’s servant had inconspicuously slid the letter under your door and you retrieved it at the speed of light, clutching the letter to your chest and a smile appearing on your face. You read it and couldn't be more happy to know that Scott was fine and doing ok.

Knowing that he wanted to see you too, you hatched a plan in your head right away to sneak out of the palace in the middle of the night to see him. You just knew you had to. It was the only way. You were done with this arranged marriage your parents had for you and that Scott was the one you should be with. You didn't care if it was wrong or right. You just needed to see him that night.

That night when everyone was asleep, you had put on one of your dark cloaks and snuck through the palace. Luckily, the King’s servant wasn’t around and you were able to get out without anyone noticing. You crept through the gardens and made your way to the palace wall. Heaving yourself up and over it took a few tries but you were able to do it.

You weren't sure where Scott’s place was so you had to take quick peaks through the windows of each house to find him. Luckily on the third home you looked in, you found him. You had to cover your mouth from the loud squeal that wanted to escape. You went over to the door and softly knocked, yet still tried knocking loud enough so he could hear. 

You waited a minute and when he finally opened the door, he couldn't believe his eyes! He rubbed them and stared hard at you, then rubbed them again to make sure he wasn't dreaming.

“Hi Scott,” you whispered.

He reached out his hand and placed it on your cheek, his thumb rubbing against your soft skin. He then pulled you into him and as your lips met, you practically melted into him. He carried you to his bed and laid you down, caressing your face and staring longingly at you.

“Scott,” you whispered. “I need you tonight. I need you right now.”

He looked at you with desire behind those green eyes, always wanting to utter those exact same words to you. He took his shirt off and helped you take off yours. The passionate kisses had started immediately while Scott’s hands roamed all over your body. Your hips grinded against his and you could feel your entire body start to get hotter, the sensual desires starting to take over. It was a night you would never forget.

You had made your way back to your room just in time before everyone else started waking up. You plopped yourself on the bed and had last night’s events replay in your mind. You wanted to do that again with Scott so bad tonight too. You wanted to be with him, to marry him and live the rest of your life with him. 

Your thoughts then traveled to your parents. Obviously they would be appalled if they knew what happened between you and Scott last night. For all you knew, they’d lock you in your room and never have you leave. Or worse, have you marry Prince Tony that day. And that was not a life you wanted. You went on with your day like as if nothing special had happened to you and avoided Tony like the plague he was. It was hard but you knew the places to go to escape him.

When night fall came, you snuck out once again and went to see Scott. He was more than thrilled to see you again but was worried about if someone would catch you while you were trying to sneak out. Or worse, if someone caught you with him.

“We could get arrested for this,” Scott said, after another exhilarating night of passion. “Well, maybe not you, but definitely me.”

“But that’s what makes it more fun,” you giggled, laying your head on his chest. “This whole secret relationship thing makes me feel like I’m not a princess anymore. Like I’m a regular person, if this is the sort of thing regular people do. And I like that feeling.”

Scott looked at you and smiled. “You sure about that?” he asked.

You nodded and then told him about the plan that you came up with for running away with him.

“I’ll write a letter telling them I’m leaving. That I’m through being a princess and that I’m running away with you. I’ll leave in the middle of the night again and by the time they find the letter, we’ll be long gone into the country side, starting a new life together.”

Scott thought about it a minute and kissed your forehead. “I like it. We’ll finally be able to be together, like we always were.”

You snuggled closer to him and wrapped your arms around his waist, starting to plan out your new future together and knowing what you had was so right time.

[shelvesandwhelves]

11-11-11

Answer 11 questions, tag 11 people. write 11 questions for them to answer.

Thanks to @yourbuddy-bucky for tagging me!

1. If you could travel to anywhere in the universe, where would you go and why? I’m gonna twist this question a bit and say Europe overall. :-) A tour of the cities: Paris, London, Naples, Rome, Athens, Lisbon, Berlin, etc. But if I were to chose only one place, it would have to be New York.

2. What is your most used emoji? 😂

3. Describe your perfect weather- What temperature is it? What does it look like? Feel like? Smell like? Sound like? it would be a rainy day: late 60’s degrees F, a soft pattering rain, smells clean and fresh, and enough rain to have downcast grey clouds but not completely dreadful.

4. Favorite food to eat? any pasta or greek food

5. If you could meet any famous person, dead or alive, who would it be? I always struggle with this question. Hmm. Amelia Earhart, because she was childhood figure. And I also want to talk about her challenges, travels, motivations, and where she was after the crash.

6. What song makes you feel happy whenever you hear it? Perfect Places by Lorde, ironically about recovering from broken relationships. Or Supercut, also by Lorde.

7. Do you have a favorite quote? If so, who is it by? (I also have a lot of favorites..) “The future belongs to those who believe in the beauty of their dreams.” -Eleanor Roosevelt

8. If I told you I had an extra ticket to any event in the world (concert, Broadway show, sporting game, museum, etc.) what would you want it to be for? probably lorde’s melodrama tour :)

9. Are you a morning or a night person? totally a night person. I seem to be more awake and motivated.

10. Would you rather be friends with your favorite superhero and not have any powers yourself, or never meet your favorite superhero but have whatever powers you want? Uhhhhh. This is really hard to choose, but I think I’ll go with being friends with my favorite superhero(s) and not have any powers. Also I feel like being in a world with powers gets quite complicated and stressful.

11. Are you a one-pillow sleeper or a multiple-pillow sleeper? multiple pillow sleeper. I like being warm and comfy.

I would like to tag… @biblioxmia @inevitably-iris @daisyskyed @lovely-star-dust @whotheeffisbucky @linahsmdalmau @jcnesloan @hotelsweet @babyy-bird.. and anyone else that wants to this tag

My 11 questions are:

1. What is something that you are looking forward to? 2. Would you rather live in New York City or San Francisco? 3. What is your favorite book? 4. If you were chosen to give an idea for a movie to a well-known director, what would that idea be? (Also, the movie is exactly how you want it to be interpreted.) 5. Favorite season? 6. Describe the perfect day. What’s the weather like? Who’s with you? What are you doing? Where are you? 7. What is your favorite motivational quote? 8. Would you rather see a sunset or sunrise? 9. If your house was on fire, what 5 non-living items would you grab? 10. Midnight blue or sunset pink? 11. Fuzzy socks or slippers?

[lepetitmondedeju]

WIP Challenge

I was tagged by @after-avenging-hours, I’m sorry I’m only doing this now.

Post the last sentence you wrote (original works, fanfic, anything!), then tag as many people as there are words in the sentence.

So this for the Seb bday fic I’m writing.

Barely a minute later, he steps outside of the suite's bathroom, with James, our two and a half years old son.

So I tag : @hellomissmabel, @amrita31199, @emilyevanston, @totheendofthelinepal, @jarnesbrnes, @asirenscalling, @jurassicbarnes, @nenyakj, @howlingbarnes, @sexylibrarian1, @sgtbxckybxrnes, @buckyisthebest, @bionic-buckyb, @sugardaddytonystark, @denialanderror, @whotheeffisbucky, @whothehellisbella, @papi-chulo-bucky, @caplanbuckybarnes, @arawynn, @mrshopkirk

[thefanficfaerie]

Weekly Reading List 14

Weekly Recommendations get posted every Thursday. All stories are character x reader unless otherwise stated.

Star Trek Leonard McCoy Save the Last Dance by @imoutofmyvulcanmind Overwhelmed by @atari-writes Dui-Guee Style by @angryschnauzer NSFW On the Futility of Revenge by @bkwrm523 NSFW Messy by @kaitymccoy123 Make A Wish by @littlecarowrites Home by @theysentushope The Great Divide by @imoutofmyvulcanmind Worm by @randomlittleimp Pavlovian Boner by @atari-writes Save the Last Dance by @imoutofmyvulcanmind OverWhelmed by @atari-writes There You’ll Be by @imoutofmyvulcanmind​

Jim Kirk Considering by @imamotherfuckingstar-lord ...Take Me Back To When by @whereno1701hasgonebefore Lost Days by @kaitymccoy123 Loot by @enterprisewriting​

McKirk The Road to Enterprise? by @thevalesofanduin A Hypo For My Heart by @thevalesofanduin Primum Non Nocere by @thevalesofanduin

Avengers Steve Rogers Just Ask by @softcorehippos If You Go in by @whotheeffisbucky That’s A Really Big Cat by @writers-square Looking for Love by @buckyisthebest Philophobia by @vibranium-ass Splash by @atari-writes NSFW Untitled by @goodnightwife Thanks, Steve by @pleasecallmecaptain I’m Here to Pick Up a Fossil by @imagine-assembling-the-avengers Dirty Laundry by @itsanerdlife Workout Clothes by @officialheroesofolympus​

Tony Stark From this Moment by @writers-square The Other Stark by @meganlpie How Whiskey Feels by @travelwithwords Sundays by @brucxbannxr​

Law and Order: SVU Rafael Barba .76 by @svu-stories Bad Idea by @fanfictionforsvu NSFW Allergic to Valentines by @mrsrafaelbarba Late Night Desires by @minidodds NSFW .77 by @svu-stories Haunted by @mrsrafaelbarba

NCIS Tony DiNozzo The NCIS Team Comes to Watch You Play Soccer by @silentwaters4

Criminal Minds Aaron Hotchner All Dogs Go to Heaven by @imagicana Telling Stories by @profiler-in-training Where You Are by @kaunis-sielu Birthday Blues by @of-badges-and-guns

Tropes Soulmate AU Heart Skip by @after-avenging-hours Steve Rogers  I’ve Got You Under My Skin by @outside-the-government  Leonard McCoy Born Again by @itsanerdlife Steve Rogers

Daddy!Character Daddy’s Little Girl by @It-sammi-matthews John Kennex  Cinderella by @becaamm Tony Stark  Tea Party for 9 by @itsanerdlife Steve Rogers  Mini Matchmaker Bonus Scene  by @avengerofyourheart Steve Rogers  Good Cop, Bap Cop by @mrsrafaelbarba Rafael Barba  Delirious by @lazydoodlesandfanfic Tony Stark 

Misc Fandoms In Good Hands by @itsanerdlife Sam Wilson x Reader (Steve’s Wife)  Imagine starting a secret relationship with Frank Reagan by @svubloods Frank Reagan Robb Stark x Reader (The Smut To End All Smut) by @angiebeth-0616 NSFW She’s in Love with the Boy by @meganlpie Clint Barton Three Little Words by @writingdayandnight Jaime Reagan 

Chris Evans Imagine Chris taking you to Rome for a romantic getaway by @ohevansmycaptain

Birthday Challenge Updated

Star Trek Fairytale AU Updated

My Requests Updated

@thelawschooldiva @annalisehartmann

[grandmascottlang]

The Heroes of Our Kingdom (Captain America x Reader Royalty! AU) P2

Hey guys! I know that I’m posting this really late at night, I’ve been busy these past few days. Anyways, let the story continue!

Summary: Getting some insight into [Name]’s and Steve’s relationship

Part 1

MASTERLIST

Warnings: None

Words: 494 (I’m sorry that it’s so short.)

“[Name], please!” Steve yelled, catching up to her as she stormed out of the board meeting.

“I can’t right now, Steve.”

“[Name]…” Steve trailed on, trying to stop her by putting his hand on her shoulder.

“Captain, leave me alone! That’s an order,” [Name] pushed the captain’s hand off her shoulder, hurrying away to her quarters.

[Name] opened the double door to her quarters and immediately, she collapsed on her bed.

“I hate having to make these decisions,” she thought aloud. She looked up to her ceiling, thinking about the events that happened that day. How is someone as young as [Name] supposed to tell an entire kingdom that the nation is going to war?

She sighed as she heard a knock on her door. She looked over to her door (which she left open, as she was in such a rush from all of the day’s hardships) as saw Steve.

“I thought that I told you to leave me alone,” [Name] muttered, returning her eyes to the ceiling.

“I know, and I’m sorry, I was just worried about you,” Steve said, walking further into her room.

Steve walked over to the side of her bed, leaning slightly over [Name]. He smiled when he saw the hairs covering her face. He pushed the hairs back behind her ear. She looked at him and she couldn’t not smile looking at his face.

“Thank you, Steve. I’m sorry too because of the way I acted,” [Name] uttered sadly, looking away from him.

“You know that I could never be mad at you. What’s going through your head right now? Do you want to at least talk about it?”

She sat up, thinking about how to respond to Steve. Steve was the nicest and most considerate guy that [Name] had ever met, and on the military side, he was the most tactical and strategic military man in existence. He was made to be in the military and he deserved the rank he had.

“I can’t let my people down. Since I’m the sole ruler of Aelmere, I’m required to make all of the tough decisions. I would like to take the easy way out and not start an official war, but if we don’t, Rumlow is going to kill and torture more innocent lives and I can’t let him do that,” she took a deep breath in and breathed a sigh out. Talking about how she felt to Steve eased away the stress of ruling.

Steve sat down next to her on her bed and began to rub small circles on her back. [Name] looked into his crystal blue eyes and smiled. He returned the gesture, looking deeply into her [E/C] eyes.

“You know, that’s one of the reasons that you have us, that you have me. You don’t have to go through this alone. The Howling Commandoes will never let you down. You can count on us, or at least me. I love you, [Name].”

[coffeenfun]

Valentine's Writing Challenge

Plz let me know if you haven’t got your prompt/quote yet.

 Join here

@likochkah @avengedwritings @whotheeffisbucky @buckys-shield @buckywiththegoodheart @missrainbow15 @formyfandoms @captain-purpledino @james-bionic-barnes @helllaellla @canumoveyourseatup-no @sexylibrarian1 @shamvictoria11 @fanlove-fandomlife @fics-4-all @hellomissmabel @serzhantjamesbuchananbarnes @marvelfanuniverse @unified-multiversal-theory @loriwrites